A/n: So I've had this idea for a few days now. It has consumed my thoughts so much so that its slowing down my writing for TtFaF...please don't hate me. I find the best way to shut 'it' up, is to get 'it' out. I was going to keep it to myself, but then convinced myself that someone else might like it.
This is a Jorah x reader fic, which i've never attempted before...so this shall be a writing exercise for sure. Warning there will be some strong language, and that will hopefully make sense. And this story might, eventually, possibly, earn a rating of sexytime-M (I'm not sure yet). This takes place in canon, and Jorah will be the only main divergence. Anyhow, I'm kinda nervous about this one. I hope you enjoy :)
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Chapter One
You wake up early and just like every other morning, you eat your preferred breakfast of porridge, and head outside to begin a days work.
You are the official horse trader of Winterfell, well you were. Lord Eddard Stark himself valued your opinion, and only wanted your horses for his family. You remember each of the younger Stark children, as they came down from Winterfell all doe-eyed and excited to pick a horse of their own. It was a big day for them, so you always went to great efforts to make it special.
Lord and Lady Stark paid you more than you'd ask for each time. They liked the way you treated their children, letting them go to each horse individually, and ride and converse with every single animal. You have always had excellent patience.
But that was years ago, when you were almost still a child yourself. And when you still had many horses. Now you only have two left, the rest were recently purchased by people preparing for the battle, or for a means of a quick way to escape it. They all paid full asking price with absolutely no bargaining.
Needless to say, you are more wealthy than you've ever been. Once the war is over you'd use it to restock your stables.
You put on your brown cloak and headed out to the stables. Sanchia was your horse, you renamed her not knowing what her original was. The name meant sacred and that's what she is to you. You wouldn't trade her for all the currency in Westeros. You acquired her in Braavos, when she was a young mare who wasn't being treated properly, and you decided to take her from her owner. Who happened to be a big deal because you were hunted by sellswords shortly after. Forcing you to leave Braavos, which was fine by you, the place had lost its luster. You missed the snow and trees of the north, a place you considered your home.
Sanchia was a beautiful reddish brown, with a strip of white on her muzzle, and black that krept up from her hooves and then gradually faded back into reddish brown, right before it met her knees. Her mane was also black, and you liked to keep it long. Just in case you had to jump on her and ride away without having time to saddle.
It was a precaution you took. You lived just off of the Kingsroad, and many travelers came to look at your renowned horses. Most were honest and decent people, but some thought they could take them from a woman. You had two daggers tucked into the back of your pants at all times, and you were always ready to prove them wrong.
Sanchia nuzzled you sweetly like she always does when you greet her in the morning. You lead her out to the pastures to graze, while you went to your other horse Gus.
Gus was large. The biggest horse that you'd ever seen, and you've seen hundreds if not thousands throughout the years. He's solid black but has a few flecks of grey around his muzzle. You have no idea how old he is, or who his owner was. He just wandered onto your property one day, saddled and riderless. He jumped over the fence searching for the mare that was in heat.
You weren't afraid of many things in life, especially when it came to animals, but you were scared shitless of him. It took you an hour to rope him, and then another to tie him up. You were covered in scrapes and bruises by the end. Then it took months for him to trust you, but he did finally calm down. Mostly thanks to Sanchia. She soothed him and despite the size difference she was the alpha. They had a special connection, and though they bore no foals, they were still very much mates.
You still hadn't worked up the nerve to ride him and it had been years now. If you fell off an average sized horse, it hurt, sometimes a lot, but you were afraid a fall from him would end your life.
"Hill!" You heard someone calling from the main road.
You walked out of the fence, and around to the front of your property. "Yeah?" You called out, and then saw the familiar couple.
Bensen and his wife Ana lived about a half a league west of you. They were...nice, but invaded your space a lot. Ana pitied you for not having a husband, and you suspected that Bensen took a liking to you. He checked on you a lot. Even though you were well off on your own, and always had been.
"Have you heard the news?" Ana asked in an annoyingly loud almost singing voice.
"What news?" You took your gloves off, swinging the dirt off of them, and then looped them through your belt. Ana always came with the most wonderful spectacular exciting news, you thought already annoyed.
"Ah, see I told you Bensen! The Dragon Queen will be coming down the Kingsroad tomorrow morn." She looked so excited that you almost felt sorry for her.
Bensen rolled his eyes in an implied 'forgive my wife she's not thinking' kind of way. Ana was not thinking that they were almost on the eve of a great battle, where many people would fight and die. She was too enamored by the prospect of seeing the Queen, and possibly her dragons.
You personally didn't give a fuck about the Queen or her dragons. All of the politics and ass-kissing was something you hated fiercely. Kings and Queens never cared about their people. It was all about them, and their unquenchable thirst for power. Aerys was insane, Robert was apathetic, Joffrey was a hell-spawn demon, and Tommen was just a puppet that the current Queen used until she could retain power herself. They were all unworthy, why would the Dragon Queen be any different.
"Well that will be something." You responded, your voice lacking any enthusiasm.
"Oh (y/n), where is your sense of adventure?"
"I must have left it in Essos."
Bensen laughed and then tried to cover it up with a cough. He was a kind man. He almost died fighting in the Battle of the Bastards, now he walked with a severe limp. You crafted him a crutch out of strong wood, he was so touched when you gave it to him he teared up. So It was nice to see him laugh, even at Ana's expense.
"You and that charming sense of humor, no wonder you live here alone with no one but the animals." You knew that she didn't mean to be so blunt. She was highborn, and was used to a certain type of woman, one that you weren't. It didn't excuse her behavior but it stopped you from having the urge to push her off her horse.
The humor left Bensen's face as he turned to his wife. "Ana, you know what she's lost. Why would you say such a thing? I'm so sorry (y/n). Ignore my wife she is just overexcited."
His remark did not make you feel any better, as a matter of fact it made you feel worse. You hadn't thought about him for a while, now his face returned to your mind.
You were in love once. Elianos was Braavosi. He was older than you, but that didn't bother you at all. You liked maturity and although he was mischievous and fun, he was still well grounded. He had beautiful curly black hair, that was so thick you'd sometimes lose your hand in it. His eyes were green and expressive. You often could read his mood by a single glance.
And he knew how to handle you. You were wild at heart, and his love and nurturing helped pacify your restless tendencies.
He helped you steal your beloved mare and then helped you escaped to Westeros. As soon as you set your feet on land after weeks at sea, he asked you to marry him. You had never really considered that as a possibility for you in your life, but you did love him. He was kind and passionate, he made you laugh, and helped you forget your past.
You married quick and together you both found a perfect piece of land, and built your home on top of it. You were a hard worker, and knew enough about construction to be successful. He also worked, but he was more into the agonizing details. When it was finished you understood the importance of his madness. The house perfectly represented the two of you. It had the convenience you craved, but also the colors and flare of a Braavosi. It was the perfect size for the two of you, but also had an extra room in case you were to have a child. He stressed the importance of the room many times with a wink.
He cultivated the land and planted the little that would grow in the cold northern soil. You were a proficient hunter so relying on his crops were not a necessity, but it meant not having to go into town so often for produce, and that was something you strongly appreciated.
Then you both built a fence around the property and some stables. He had the idea of raising horses. You like the idea because of the coin, and also because without a purpose you got bored easily. He bought you your first colt on your birthday and the rest was history.
He grew very sick in your second year of marriage. You sent ravens to the best healers in Westeros, but none came, nor responded. So you decided to bundle him up, and ride into town until you found a healer.
The journey was longer than he had in him, Elianos died three days later.
You didn't allow yourself to cry often, but when you lost him you cried so hard that you thought your head would explode.
The worst part was the journey back. You couldn't keep him fastened onto the horse, and the thought of dragging him behind you made you sick. You stopped Sanchia and searched the valley for a good spot, and dug a deep hole. The ground was hard, and all you had were his fancy Braavosi daggers. So you used them to chop up the ground and then used your hands to rake away the soil. It took hours, and by the end your hands were raw and bleeding. You cursed so frequent that you grew concerned that the gods would smite you.
You buried him there, alone. The guilt made you have restless nights filled with nightmares, even unto this day. Maybe you should have just left him in bed. Even if that wouldn't have changed his fate, he would have at least died warm. And then would have been buried on his land.
"I said ignore me (y/n). I'm just very excited and my mouth is taking off without me." Ana laughed as though she had just saved the day by telling a joke.
"Its ok. I don't even remember what you said." You sounded just as dejected as you felt, then turned back to your horses, and walked away.
You didn't look back but you could feel Bensen's concerned stare.
After you took care of Sanchia and Gus, you decided to go hunting. Just a short trip to get some rabbits for a stew you wanted on this night, and the distraction would also be welcomed.
There were not too many dishes that you could make in the north. Especially not like the assortment of dishes in Braavos. But you did perfect a few meals that even Elianos loved. Stew being one of them.
Stew had the reputation of being hearty but bland, not yours. You made yours with potatoes and any other vegetables you had on hand. The meat didn't really matter as long as it was fresh. Your specialty was with the spices. There was a heat to it, the kind that made your brow sweat, but it wasn't an unpleasant sensation, especially on really cold nights. But the actual flavors are what made yours different and delicious.
You have learned a lot in your travels, and have tried many cuisines. You learned from other cultures, and brought all that experience together to make things in your life easier, and not just mouth watering flavor combinations.
If you missed anything about Essos it was probably the variety. No two days were the same, no two meals were the same, and no two people were the same. It kept you on your toes and didn't let you settle.
The north was a better fit for you now. You grew to enjoyed the predictableness of it, it felt safe. You had enough of traveling and just wanted to be left alone with your animals, or at least that's what you told yourself.
"Mud!" You called out for your dog. He looked a lot like a wolf, though a little smaller, but he acted like a domesticated dog. Well, he did until someone tried to hurt you, then he was very much the wolf he appeared to be.
He earned his name by how you found him, a pup playing in the mud. He was alone and hungry, and after you pet him and gave him some dried fish he followed you all the way home. You had just buried your husband so you probably needed Mud more than he needed you, but that didn't keep him from being loyal to you.
Mud came running to you, his paws and light grey haunches were covered in mud, and his nose which was normally jet-black was a light brown.
You didn't care that he liked the dirt, he was a dog, but you did like a clean house. And Mud got mud everywhere all the time. The floors were not a big deal, but your fur rugs and bedspread was. You tried to keep him outside, but found you missed his company.
He sat down in front of you, tilted his head to the left and then the right in anticipation for a command. "Lets hunt." Before the second word was out of your mouth he was sprinting off into the woods.
When you caught up he had already sniffed out a rabbit hole, his butt sticking up in the air as his tail wagged. "Good boy Mud!" You killed the rabbits, attached them to your belt, and threw him the smallest.
On your way back you noticed a strange horse hitched to the side of your house. Then you saw a tall-armored man looking around.
"Mud, go." Mud had just been on the hunt. His domesticated instincts had yet to return, and you didn't want him attacking the man before you knew of his purpose. Mud knew that 'go' meant freedom. He ran back into the woods to hunt down something else.
You moved your daggers to the side of your pants so they caught the rays of the sun. The sight making even the most foolish person think twice.
"How can I help you?" You assumed he was another man searching for a horse, but knew that all types of people came off the road.
"I'm Ser Jorah Mormont, the General of the Dragon Queen's army."
For the life of you, you couldn't remember how to curtsy, so instead you bowed deeply, almost touching your knees.
"There's no need for that, please rise."
You did slowly. "I'm (y/n) Hill, how may I be of service?"
He looked at you with kind blue eyes that drew you in. You couldn't help but to look him over. His armor was black and studded like you had never seen before. You made a mental note that you wanted new armor, your brown leather one seemed dull in comparison.
His hair was a blondish brown and was thinning. He had lines on his face that only men who had seen things wore. He was tall and attractive, you weren't going to lie to yourself. And with all of your dealing and trading you possessed a good judge of character, and on first instinct you liked him. You however, kept your blades out for show, you have been wrong before.
"The Queen makes her way north even as we speak. I rode ahead to make sure there was no oncoming danger." You waited patiently for him to continue. "The King of the North suggested that I stop here on my way back, to see if you had any horses for purchase." He held up a full coin purse as if to prove his intentions.
"No, I'm afraid not. Horses have been in high demand as of late." You looked over to your nearly empty stable.
"I can imagine." He turned to his stallion. "Well then, do you happen to treat horses?"
"Aye, as long as it isn't too serious."
"This horse was given as a gift a while ago. He has been all over Essos and now Westeros with me. I worry for him, he hasn't the stamina he once had."
You looked over towards the horse. He was slimmer than a horse of that size should be, and you could tell he wasn't feeling well as his hoof kicked at the ground. "I'm going to get this stew started, it takes at the least an hour, and I am starving." You gestered down at the rabbits hanging from your belt. "And then I shall examine your horse."
He almost grinned as you walked past him.
You cleaned and prepared the meat. A task that you'd done many times, but his gaze threw you off. It was penetrating and way more intense than you were used to. Men of few words tended to be more intense. Just not many people knew what to look for. He was wound tightly and yet dangerously calm. The contradiction that was only one put on by an actor, and you were almost nervous. "So a Mormont?"
"Aye. Born and raised on Bear Island." He looked distant and full of longing.
"Jeor is your father?" That broke his daydream and visabley unnerved him. You regretted it the moment it came out of your mouth. You were only around other people when you made sales, or when your friends from the west visited you. You might be a little out of practice, a little too direct perhaps.
"Yes, yes he was."
"Was? I thought he was the Commander of the Night's Watch...oh." Focusing so intently on preparing the food you had stopped watching his reactions. "Ser Mormont, I apologize. I-I am truly sorry for your loss." You stopped what you were doing and bowed your head.
"No need to apologize, you couldn't have known. He was a good man, he died fighting for what he believed in, and stood until the very end." He was speaking to himself more than to you, so you stayed silent. He came to your side, causing you to glance at your dagger placed on the counter beside you. "So stew?"
You smiled sincerely for the first time in a long time, all the nerves left your body. Silent men were also very good at deflecting. You stirred the pot and added in an assortment of spices. He looked bewildered, and a little wary at the added ingredients and strong aroma.
"I thought you said that you've been to Essos?"
"I have." He met your eyes sternly, ready to defend himself from your questioning.
"And did you not have any interesting foods there?"
The humor in your voice caused him to relax, his eyes crinkled in amusement. "Why do you think I'm so worried?"
You swung to gently hit his arm at the remark. "Presumptuous of you."
He looked a little shocked by the playfulness of the contact, and then tilted is head in question.
"Who said you could have any."
He laughed deeply as you covered the pot that was above the fire, and put your cloak back on. You couldn't keep from smiling as your back was turned to him. You reached for your daggers and you saw him eyeing them.
"They were my husbands, and his father before him." You spun them around with ease, proving to him that you were well practised. "He was Braavosi."
"Ah, I thought they didn't look much of the north."
"Good eye." You responded sarcastically.
The daggers were very sharp and shiny, and you took very good care of them. They were mostly gold, but had the silver detailing of a scorpion, the blade mimicked a stinger. The only other colors were a green and red gem, a color for each side of the handle. When you and Elianos first arrived in Westeros he brought up selling them. You told him that you'd sell the shirt off your back before he would have to get rid of them. He loved you even more after that comment. He loved his father and missed him dearly, the daggers were all he had left of him. And now they were all you had left of him.
Jorah looked regretfully at your saddened expression. He was all too familiar with the signs of a broken heart. He knew that something had happened to your husband, and that it was his fault for putting that look on your face.
He opened mouth to ask forgiveness, but you stopped him quickly. He didn't need to feel guilty about asking about them. You were practically baiting him with them, it was natural to be curious. Especially for a knight whose job revolves around weapons. "Come, let's check on your stallion."
Jorah's horse was dark and quite the specimen. Maybe one of the top five stallions you've ever seen. "What's his name?" You asked softly as you petted and introduced yourself to the animal.
"He um, he doesn't have one." He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.
You turned to look at him, squinting your eyes slightly in question. "How long have you had him?"
"Years, but I didn't want to name him. I've lost many a horse during battle, and I didnt want to form an attachment to him."
You smiled, something you've done an alarming amount of times since his arrival. "Haven't you though?"
He patted the animal firmly on his side, then lovingly rubbed his muzzle. "I suppose I have."
After you finished your exam. You pet the horse in sympathy, stood and turned to see a solemn looking Jorah. "I'm no expert at this, I raise them, I train with them, and I occasionally heal them if I'm very lucky. So I could be wrong, but my opinion is that he has colic."
He broke his gaze on you, and looked at the horse. "Ok."
He appeared unsure, and you didn't want to assume that he didn't understand, so you just went on to explain. "It's just like what befalls some infants, however, it's more dangerous in horses." You could tell he still wasn't sure what you meant. "His stomach is hurting. I think he may have a blockage, but there's nothing I can do about that. It's up to his own system." You looked at him painfully. "I've lost many horses to it."
He shook his head in acceptance. "How long?"
"I can't say for sure, but judging by his body weight, I'd say he still has days left. He's lost weight but its not dangerous yet."
"I hope he can hold on until the war is over, I need him."
You walked back to your cabin. "As long as you can keep water in him, I believe he should." When you opened the door the strong delicious aroma wafted out into the air. "So, tell me Ser. Are you brave enough to try some stew?"
He looked from his horse back to you. "I am, but I must warn you, I am not great with heat. Even in Essos I relied heavily on bread."
"Don't worry, it's not that bad."
He entered your home, and this time felt comfortable enough to look around. He paid a lot of attention to your bookshelf, and your leather armor that was hanging by your bedroom door. "Your armor?"
"Yes." You could tell that he was studying the deep tears and dents in it. And he was probably in shock that a woman possessed such armor. You doubted that the Dragon Queen owned any, and if she did it was probably unscathed.
"Have you had to wear it?" He obviously knew the answer, but was curious for the story behind it.
He watched as you prepared two bowls. The first was nearly full, but the second had only one ladle in it. You handed him the latter, not wanting to waste any if he didn't like it.
You thought of the best way to answer without saying too much. "I have, once." You didn't want to lie to him, but you also didn't want him to know you had just recently fought in the Battle of the Bastards. Ana had already called you foolish, and almost every other name in the book. Bensen begged you not to fight, but just as he felt it was his duty, you also felt it was yours.
And it was a fight that you gladly fought.
After the Greyjoys and the Boltons had desecrated Winterfell, you wanted to help win it back. It was your belief that Winterfell should only belong to the Starks. Ned and Catelyn were good people, and it broke your heart what had happened to them. If you could help protect their children, their legacy, you would.
Jorah nodded, wanting to ask more but didn't. You both sat at your table. The first time anyone had sat across from you since Elianos. It was strange, but not unwelcome.
His first bite had you on the edge of your seat. It was a win-win for you. Either he liked it and he would eat a warm meal before his journey, or he would hate it and entertain you by overdramatically reacting to it. You truly didn't know which you'd prefer.
He chewed and then looked at you surprised. "This is very good."
You smiled knowingly, then took his bowl and filled it full like your own. "I told you. It's called flavor and you should not be afraid of it."
"You have converted me." You placed the bowl in front of him, he ate hungrily but neatly, and you appreciated that.
The sound of Gus neighing loudly interrupted the meal. Gus was a very silent animal, him making noises meant something was wrong. You grabbed your daggers and ran outside.
There were three men gathered around your stables attempting to lasso Gus. A fourth man already had Sanchia roped, and was waiting on them.
"Hey!" You called out loudly running to them.
"Come on, it doesn't have to be this way. We'll just take your horses and then be on our way." He held the rope around Sanchia tightly. His other hand was resting on the hilt of his sword.
"Oh, I don't think so." Not hesitating you pulled out the daggers. These idiots were messing with the wrong person. "If you don't release her and get the fuck out of my sight, I will be the last thing you ever see."
"Sweetheart you can't stop this."
"You misunderstood me, if you don't leave right now I will cut your eyes out from your head."
That got his attention. He let go of the rope and unsheathed his sword.
Jorah ran up, and stood in front of you, protecting you. "Don't be stupid." He said to the stranger, standing tall and his voice was low and carried a danger that you hadn't heard from him before. His hand was firmly gripping his sword, and judging by his body language he was ready to fight.
By this time the other three left Gus behind and moved towards their partner. The oldest man, with scars all over his face spoke up. "Come now, you are outnumbered and backed up by a woman. Let us have the horses and no one has to..."
You threw the dagger from your non-dominant hand, it went in his throat stopping his speech as he fell to the ground dead. Everyone looked at you in shock, the sight would have been funny if it weren't so serious. Their pause in time allowed you to attack the other two. You hoped Jorah wasn't so distracted that he couldn't handle the man in front of him.
You were fast. Much quicker than most were used to. The man with ginger hair swung his sword at your side, but you easily moved out of his way. The other man was heavier, and swung with a force that would have split you in two. But his heavy swing left his back compromised with every miss. You countered and stabbed him in the back twice before the ginger tackled you to the ground.
Your grunt caused Jorah to look towards you, allowing his competitor to hit him in the stomach. You watched as he went down, the sight frightening you as you were forced to look back up at your attacker.
The ginger held you down, and started to wrap his hands around your neck as you saw the larger man coming towards you. He was powering up his swing, and then started bringing it forward, so you used all your strength and pushed the ginger in front of the swinging blade. You winced at the sound, and the spray of blood that covered you.
Tossing his body quickly off of you, you stood up and moved your dagger back and forth anticipating his slow attack. His predictable fighting style ensured your victory. He over committed, and came much too forward. You landed the final blows to his back. He dropped to the ground loudly.
You looked to Jorah just as he stepped to his left, and then skillfully ended the last man's life.
You caught your breath, and wiped the blood from your eyes. You grabbed the rope and calmed Sanchia, and brought her back to the stables while talking to her gently. Then you checked on Gus, and made sure the stable door would stay shut.
Jorah was staring at you in disbelief as you walked towards him.
You rolled your eyes prematurely, expecting him to chastise you.
"Are you hurt?" He asked concerned looking at the blood that covered you.
It caught you so off guard that you almost tripped. "N-no, it's not mine." You wiped more blood from your face. "How are you? I saw you get hit in the stomach." You walked near him to inspect his side.
"I'm fine. My armor protected me." He patted it loudly.
"I bet you are bruised terribly." You knew what that felt like all too well. It wasn't dangerous but it hurt.
He shrugged, choosing to ignore your painfully accurate statement. He rolled his shoulders, turned his neck from side to side, and then walked over to his horse. "Thank you for looking at my horse." He said while mounting. "And for the deliciously flavored stew." He tossed you his coin purse.
You caught it, but threw it right back. "Think nothing of it. Thank you for helping me deal with those idiots."
He looked a little angry with you for not keeping the payment, but you didn't need it, nor did you feel that you earned it. But then his face relaxed and looked at you differently. "You are impressive with those daggers."
You allowed yourself to chuckle. "I live alone, with expensive animals, off of one of the most dangerous roads in the north. Does it really surprise you that much that I can fight?"
He was amused but then his face grew serious. You didn't want or need his worry. He had a Queen to protect and at least two wars to win. He should focus on his own well-being, and not be concerned for yours. "Well so long Ser Mormont. Best of luck out there." You looked towards the direction of Winterfell.
He nodded his head and opened and closed his mouth twice before speaking. "Good bye (y/n). Take care of yourself." He looked at you seriously, then made a clicking sound and his horse started moving. He looked back at you after he was on the road, and you stopped yourself from waving.
You waited until he was out of sight before you released a heavy breath, and turned to take care of the dead bodies.