Title: Looking for His Silver Queen

Author: DragonQueenandHerBear

Pairing: Daenerys/Jorah

Prompt(s): "And in the dark,

I can hear your heartbeat, I try to find the sound,

But then it stopped,

And I was in the darkness,

So darkness I became"

-Florence and the Machine, "Cosmic Love"

Word Count: 1954

Rating & Warnings: M for extreme sexual content and references to alcohol and prostitution

Summary: Takes place the night before Jorah runs into Tyrion at a brothel in Volantis. This is his story of the night he spent with the silver-haired whore.

A/N: Written for the "Angst-a-thon" over at Game of Ships.

Wasn't sure whether to include Daenerys under "characters," since she technically wasn't in this one, but decided to include her just in case. Let me know if I should change it!

Looking for His Silver Queen

"Another," Jorah growled at the barkeep, gripping his now-empty mug.

Wine was the only thing that kept him from breaking, now that Daenerys had banished him. He had mindlessly wandered the desert for weeks before arriving in Volantis. He had not known where he was going, nor did he care. Part of him wished he had died out there. His reason for living, the love of his life had banished him, forced him from her life. She had angrily told him to go home, to collect his pardon if he still could, but home meant nothing to him anymore—not without her. She had become his home, and returning to Westeros would mean nothing if she was not with him.

As soon as he had arrived in Volantis he'd headed straight for the nearest bar—which happened to be a brothel—to drown his sorrows in wine. He was incredibly drunk by now, completely lost in his misery. He thought of Daenerys—beautiful, brave Daenerys, who he knew he'd never stop loving. He thought of Lynesse, who seemed so insignificant now that he'd known what true love was—the pain she'd caused him was nothing compared to this. He thought of his and Dany's last encounter, when he'd foolishly let his pride get in the way of his begging for forgiveness. She had been ready to forgive him, he'd seen it in her eyes. She would have forgiven him, if he'd just been humbler, if he hadn't stubbornly talked back, if he had admitted his wrongdoings and submitted to her. But he hadn't. He'd grown too used to her gentle heart. He had forgotten that she was a queen, too, and forgiving him when he was behaving so stubbornly would have undermined her authority and made her look weak to her people. He could not blame her for banishing him. He would have done the same, were he in her position. He cursed himself for his stupidity, his foolish pride that had cost him his place by her side. He had been her closest advisor, the most intimate member of her Queen's Guard—he'd even kissed her, once.

His thoughts went to that night on the Balerion—of how warm Daenerys' lips felt against his own, of how her mouth opened for his tongue, of how her nipples gave away her arousal, of the hope he'd dared to have before and after. The memory made his breeches tight, and he groaned at the feeling of his stiffened manhood.

Then he remembered where he was. He had never visited a brothel before—he found the very idea completely horrid, in fact—but his drunken sorrow and pent-up lust had become too much for him to bear. Perhaps this would relieve at least a fraction of the pain.

"Barkeep," he called out. "I'd like to hire a whore."

The barkeep nodded and directed him to the available whores he could choose from. He barely had to look at all before he made his decision—a young, slim Lyseni with long, silver hair. In his drunken stupor, she reminded Jorah of Daenerys. He paid the barkeep, took the girl to the nearest empty room and shut the door, and she smiled seductively at him.

"Should we begin?" she asked with a wink as she removed her gown in one swift motion. Jorah gulped and nodded, unbuckling his breeches and tossing them aside. She strode up to him and placed a hand on his cock, slowly stroking his length.

Jorah groaned lustfully and moved his hips to match her movements. Before long, he felt her hands replaced by something else. He looked down, and saw that she had taken him in her mouth. All he could see was the long silver hair and her lips working up and down his shaft. He ran his hands through her hair—that beautiful silver that he loved so much. He soon felt his release coming near, and gasped as he spilled into her mouth. She swallowed it all with a grin and led him over to the bed. He was still hard, and he let his lust take over as he positioned her against the edge of the bed and thrust roughly into her. She cried out in pain and pleasure as he pistoned in and out of her.

"Ohhh, more!" she cried out. "Mister, please, don't stop!"

"Call me 'Ser'," Jorah growled. "Call me 'Ser Jorah'."

"Ser Jorah! Harder, please!" she gasped.

Hearing his former title, Jorah tightened his grip on her hips and began thrusting even harder. He turned the whore over so he could see her face, and gasped at what he saw. The whore was gone, and in her place was Daenerys, looking up at him with pleading eyes and mewling his name. It was a drunken hallucination, he knew, but he did not care. He instinctively became gentler, not wanting to hurt her, and lifted her up so he was holding her while she straddled him.

"Daenerys…" he breathed, not wanting the hallucination to end. The girl knew better than to correct him—many men who visited brothels did so to re-live lost loves.

"Oh, Ser Jorah, that's so good," she cried, but then made a small squeal of pain when he gripped her too hard. He stopped abruptly and held her tight.

"I'm so sorry, Daenerys, did I hurt you?" he asked worriedly.

He was beginning to slur his words, and he could no longer tell reality from fantasy. In his mind, he was holding Daenerys Targaryen again, after all this time. The girl was shocked at his sudden tenderness, but knew to play along.

"No, ser, I'm fine," she replied, trying to be the "Daenerys" this man so wanted. She felt sorry for this man, who had clearly lost everything. If this "Daenerys" was who he wanted, she would be her for tonight. It was her job, after all, to see to the customer's needs. "Please, keep going, it feels so good."

Jorah groaned at her words and began moving again, still making sure to be gentle.

"Daenerys, I love you so much…" he whispered in her ear.

"I love you, too, Ser," she whispered back.

"Please… Dany…" he gasped, "Call me your bear… like you used to…"

"Yes, my bear," he heard her reply. Overcome, he kissed her hard on the mouth and felt a tear roll down his cheek.

"Daenerys, please, forgive me," he choked out, still moving inside her. "I meant you no harm…. I only wanted to go home… please, Dany, don't send me away."

"Never, Ser Jorah," came her response.

"I-I stopped, you know," he felt more tears well in his eyes. "Once I realized I loved you, I swore my heart to you and told the Spider I was no longer his tool. I love you so much, I would do anything to take back my past…"

"I know, my bear, I know."

"Daenerys… it hurts so badly, loving you… you're always in my head, my heart… you never let me be, Daenerys… loving you is so painful…"

"Shh, my bear, I'm here now."

"Daenerys, gods, I would do anything for you…"

"It's alright, ser, you're with me now."

Jorah fought back more tears as he gently rocked his hips against hers. He reached a hand to her breasts and began showering them with attention, making her moan in pleasure. Hearing her moan urged him on, and he felt himself nearing release.

"Nn… D-Daenerys… I-I'm so close…"
"Yes, my bear," she moaned, "come now. Come for us."

With a low growl and one final thrust, Jorah spilled inside her as she cried out his name. After taking a moment to catch his breath, he noticed the whore heading for the door.

"D-Daenerys, where are you going?"

The girl stopped dead in her tracks. She wasn't sure what to say. Usually it was customary for the whore to leave after they were finished, but this man was so convinced she was his "Daenerys," he didn't want her to go. She had never been in this situation before, so she simply responded, "Do you want me to stay, ser?"

Jorah's face brightened at that, like a gleeful child on his nameday. "Yes, Daenerys, please stay…" he said with undisguised hope in his voice.

The girl sighed. As long as he had paid, she supposed, he could do as he liked.

Jorah lay back on the bed and motioned for her to come join him. She lied next to him and let out a surprised gasp when he wrapped his arms around her lovingly.

"I love you..." he sighed into her hair.

"I-I love you too, ser," she replied, still intent on playing her role as "Daenerys."

"Do you remember when Khal Drogo died, and you walked into the burning funeral pyre?"

"I do," said the girl, wondering what the hell he was talking about.

"I'd never been so scared in my life, Daenerys… the thought of losing you amongst the flames terrified me. I couldn't imagine a life without you."

The girl stayed silent. What in the seven hells had this man been through?

"But then the next morning you emerged, unharmed, with three newborn dragons. I had to stop myself from kissing you right then and there. You were so beautiful, so radiant…"

Dragons? How drunk was this man? The girl sighed. Well, a customer is a customer.

"I would never leave you like that, my bear," she said.

She felt him shudder at her words, clearly aroused once more. She chuckled to herself. Now this was more her area of expertise. She reached down and curled her hand around his cock. His stomach hitched inwards at her touch.

"Shall we go once more, Ser?" she asked coyly. He gasped his agreement, and she mounted him, moving her hips slowly. Jorah's head leaned back and his eyes fluttered closed as he moaned in pleasure.

"Da…Daenerys…" he groaned. "P-Please… tell me you love me…"

"I love you, Ser Jorah…." he heard her moan.

"Again… please…"

"I love you, Ser Jorah…!"

"More…"

"I love you, Ser Jorah," the whore continued to cry out as she rode him. Jorah let out a sharp moan as he sat up and latched his mouth onto her nipple. The girl whimpered in pleasure as she cradled his head.

"Oh, yes, Ser Jorah, more! Please, don't stop!"

Jorah began trailing kisses from her breasts to her neck, then once more claimed her mouth in a hard kiss.

"My Queen…" he whispered against her lips. The whore was too far gone in the pleasure to hear what he was saying anymore, though, and could only moan in reckless abandon as she bounced up and down his cock.

"Khaleesi… yes… more, please… ugh…" Jorah groaned against her neck. "Daenerys… nnn, that feels so good, my queen…"

"Ser Jorah, I love you!" the girl cried out, lost in the sensation. "Ser Jorah, I love you! Ser Jorah, I love you!"

Jorah cried out as he released himself inside her, and she threw back her head as her back arched in an orgasm.

This time, the whore did not try to leave, thinking he would want to hold her again. When she looked over, however, he was fast asleep, having spent all his energy. The girl smiled sadly, carefully pulling the covers around him as he snored softly. She could tell he was a good man, and truth be told, she pitied him. She hoped this "Daenerys" would make him happy—he surely deserved it. She looked at him one last time as she was leaving.

"Goodbye, Ser Jorah," she whispered softly as she slowly shut the door behind her.