Title: Sworn Loyalty
Characters/Pairings: Jorah Mormont and Daenerys Targaryen
Author's Notes: I've only read part of the first book, so let me know if I've made any errors.
Disclaimer: I obviously don't own A Song of Ice and Fire series or the Game of Thrones TV show. If I did I'd actually have money, I probably wouldn't spend my time writing fanfiction, and Ned Stark would be alive and well. Darn those Lannisters.


Sworn Loyalty

Death.

It filled the air around Jorah Mormont. He watched as the funeral pyre was built up and looked over at the khaleesi, at Daenerys Targaryen. He wasn't sure what to expect. Tears, sorrow, weakening resolve. He saw none of this. It seemed like the more that was taken from Dany, the stronger she became. He was impressed by this realization and continued to ponder her. Perhaps she wasn't the child he had once thought her to be.

Her eyes never left the prye. The thought of the flames made her eyes shine brighter with a vengeance and regality he had never seen there before, it was as if a fire were burning behind those purple irises. He instantly knew what she was about to do, what she planned. Something changed instantly. The lies burned within him. Everything, all he had told her from the day he had first laid eyes on her, had been lies. He had always been good at lying.

But now as he watched her order the dragon eggs into the pyre, he saw that he had become too successful at lying. He had told her he would fight for her, die for her, and for the first time he recognized these lies as the truth. He would not watch her burn for the Dothraki. He would rather die a thousand times over than see her youth die in flames and smoke. He had gone a lifetime lost and alone, isolated from anyone who gave a damn about him. But Dany had given him purpose. To lose that, to lose her… He had sworn his sword for her, and he could not stand by and allow her to kill herself.

"Is that what you fear?" she asked when he protested.

Her question took him off guard. Fear. Was it fear he felt? As a knight, fear was one emotion he should not feel, especially not for someone he was sworn to protect. Why would he fear the death of someone who had hired his sword? It was bizarre to have a mere child be the one to point this out to him. If anything, he should be the one comforting her, allaying her fears. He felt his throat tighten at the thought. Dany needed no one to comfort her. She had more bravery than most men he had known.

He felt her eyes, smoldering with the fire that would soon consume her, burn into him. He didn't dare look away. He stared at her as she leaned toward him, drew his cheek to her lips. All it took was one breath for him to realize. The moment her lips touched his skin he knew he was wrong. She was a queen. She was his queen. Damn Westeros. Damn the Starks and the Lannisters and all the other royal families fighting for table scraps that would never sate their hunger for power. Daenerys was the only one that mattered now.

When she drew away he found that he could no longer look at her. He dropped his gaze and moved aside. How had she done this to him? How had she made him fall in love with her so easily? Because that was all it could be, Jorah realized. He swallowed shallowly and felt his heart clench as she lit fire to the pyre. He quickly looked to her, a question in his gaze. Would she truly go through with this, willingly let flames consume her? He wanted to beg her not to, but it was not in his nature to beg. A pained silence filled the air between them, blocking out the screams of the dying sorceress and the crackling of the flames. Dany turned to him briefly, her face calm and determined. He almost reached out for her as she walked toward the flames but he knew what he had promised, and he could not allow Dany to see his fear.

He watched in amazement as she walked deeper into the pyre in silence, until the flames burned too brightly for him to see. Hours passed yet she did not emerge. He waited and watched. The Dothraki fell victims to fatigue and many fell asleep on the ground as the pyre slowly burned itself out. Jorah did not. He stood beside the pyre and silently, desperately willed Dany to survive. He did not allow his gaze to waver from spot where Dany had disappeared into the flames. And in the morning, when the pyre had burned itself out, he went to two of Drogo's trusted bloodriders and awakened them with a quick kick from his boot. He didn't even bother to use their language. All he said was "Daenerys," and they were on their feet and following close behind him as he led the way to the pyre.

He walked slowly, carefully, his eyes taking in the burnt remains scattering the sand. He didn't feel fear anymore. Like the pyre, his fear had burned itself out. All that was left now was the bitter taste of hopeless hope. Not dead, not dead, not dead, he repeated to himself as he maneuvered through the ashes to the center where Drogo had lain. Black, acrid smoke curled from the charred wood, but he didn't dare cough. Instead he stopped short at the sight that greeted him, his body going numb. Dany, as nude as a newborn, was crouched in the ashes and three creatures were crawling on her soot-covered skin. Dragons. By the gods, dragons. Dany lifted her face to him, her eyes holding no triumph, only calmness.

He let his breath out in a sigh of incredulity, relief, and disgust. Disgust in himself for being so blind, for allowing himself to betray and spy on her for Westeros. He shook his head and quickly dropped to his knees. No more lies. He would be her knight. He would no longer play the part that had been dealt to him. It was his choice and if that meant allying himself with the Dothraki, so be it. Dany was not a child exile trying to play the game of thrones, she was a queen of her own rite. And he would stand by her through it all. He lowered his gaze and murmured dutifully, "Blood of my blood." This time he meant every word.