A little Dany/Jorah oneshot.
He wanted what he could not have. She was as untouchable as if she were surrounded by an army. And, he reminded himself, she soon would be. But for now he rode beside her. He looked at his Khaleesi's face. Once burned in the sun, it had grown dark, and he wondered at what a different woman she was now than she'd been on her wedding day. He had felt sorry for her then – a delicate girl traded by her brother to a man who looked as if he could crush her with one hand. All in the name of power.
But now she was the one who sought power. A dead brother, a dead husband. No one but herself to count on. Or at least, he knew that's what she thought. But it wasn't true. He would always be there. He'd made the promise once because he had to, but he would make it again now if she asked because he wanted to. His loyalty was to her alone. She was a remarkable woman, and he knew she would be a good queen. She would be perfect. His eyes wandered along her figure, unbidden. He wished she were not so flawless. Wished she were not so untouchable, because if he could he would touch every part of her, and he would revel in it.
"We should stop soon, Khaleesi," he said, partially to drag his own imagination back to reality, "It will be dark soon, and this has been a difficult day."
She gave a single nod, and he commanded the remaining Dothraki to set up camp for the night. Dismounting, he offered a hand to help her down from her horse. He half expected her to swat him away, impatient with his attempts to treat her as though she was delicate. But she accepted, swinging down gracefully. He allowed his hands to graze her hips just for a moment, under the guise of ensuring her balance.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
"You're welcome."
And for a few seconds they looked at each other, and he saw a veil fall away from her eyes. She was looking at him not as a queen, but as Daenerys. A woman so much younger than she seemed. A woman who was surely frightened and uncertain, but still so strong. So beautiful. He took a breath to say something – anything – to make the moment last a little longer. To keep her his. Because surely, right now, she was.
But then she turned away, and once again she was a queen. Commanding her people, putting their concerns first, walking further and further away from him.