Introduction: Show-verse, alternative S8 (let's just hope the showrunners don't rip the season to come off my fic, of course) The genre is more romantic than fantasy/war, and, well, prepare your handkerchiefs. Jon and Daenerys have married immediately after their first night together on the wings of passion, set at the end of Season 7. Sam and Bran's revelation about Rhaegar and Lyanna, although difficult for Jon on a personal level, hadn't changed much in their relationship: both unable to give up what they had, especially knowing that in a matter of weeks they could both be dead, the Targaryens had agreed to simply revive their House and its customs, thus making Sansa an allied Queen in her own right, not to mention their cousin. Now, preparations for the War for the Dawn are speeding up at Winterfell, since the Wall has been breached at Eastwatch and most of the garrison slaughtered. Jorah Mormont, still a faithful knight in the service of Queen Daenerys, is also one of the brightest strategist and the bravest fighters. His work as an advisor to the three allied young royals is appreciated by everybody at court, especially by Tyrion, who had always been more of a political schemer and felt lost without the gruff knight. But even in the eve of war people still think of things that keep them alive…
Notes: a) Heed the tags before reading. Also, have a look at my usual interests and ships. Prepare your handkerchiefs, because it's meant to have a lot of tragic/emotional twists. b) Looking up "Florian and Jonquil" on the asoiaf wikia could help. The title refers to the in-universe songs about them, and to the song "The bear and the maiden fair". c) This is another of my "revenge fics" (as is my "The Paths of the Fools"), in which I criticise the seventh season of the show implicitly.
He had pledged himself to her, long ago: one oath as a knight, and one oath deeper in his heart.
So here he was, watching her, protecting her, but his heart was torn. Torn between the love that made him think She is happy, and I will keep her safe in her happiness and I am so proud of her, of what she had achieved, and the sharp pain in his chest that cut him in half.
It had all happened so quickly. One day she had welcomed him back, and she did not hide anymore she loved him, despite an infatuation for the young King in the North ongoing. Then, on the day of that fateful mission beyond the Wall, in a matter of seconds he simply disappeared from her life. Daenerys suddenly cared for and Jon only, and was in love with him, needed him, only him. Jorah became merely a presence in her court and war room, albeit one esteemed by all. He was not even allowed to grieve with her and help her grieve for the dragon they had brought up together: she had chosen to mourn with Jon instead.
If deep down he had been always ready to see her marrying a highborn, he had always thought she would still appreciate and cherish his undemanding love, his friendship, his service.
But he had always been a fool, and fools get fooled all the time.
Daenerys Stormborn Targaryen was not even a queen in her own right anymore. Not that Jorah had ever cared for such details: she was his queen because she had won him over long ago, and that was all he had needed to shift his allegiance. But her husband Jon, upon discovering who he really was and what his identity entailed, had decided to pick up his true family name and his claim, despite him being a Stark in his soul, despite him not having any interest in the Seven Kingdoms: all of this so that his love could be a queen again. And so he became King Jon Targaryen, for love, and he would leave his beloved North after defeating the Night King, to give his love the throne she always dreamed of.
Jorah find it admirable, and sweet: after all, he had done the same for years, doing everything for her so that she could be a queen and create a new world. He didn't have a claim to a throne, of course, but he had a sword, his strength, and his experience, and he had used them to bring her to her own throne.
Jon was a good lad, and a great king who cared for his people, there was no doubt about that. He had already noticed he was a man to admire, and nothing he had witnessed so far had changed his mind about the Northern Dragon.
It still didn't make his pain less bitter.
He only hoped at least his last wish would be granted: dying in Daenerys' service, in the war that was now only days or weeks away from them, his body burned by his comrades to avoid being raised by the enemy, fire consuming all that had been left of him.
As it would be fit for him.
Even in the eve of war there are moments in which people have time to just be. It was especially true for Jorah, since the Dragon Queen had now a husband to share her time with outside the court and the war room, the once faithful friend and advisor faded away.
Jorah decided to walk around Winterfell, to enjoy that Northern nature he had so missed during his exile, to be by himself, to try to forget everything. The beauty of the Godswood and the almost unadulterated smell of snow ensnared him, and so he went there.
Another worried soul was there, in search of some moment of quietness, and of some strength: Sansa of Winterfell, now Queen in the North, garbed in her regal furred cloak, a few snowflakes glistening on the hair popping up from under her hood. Jorah was reminded of her mother, her beauty, and of her kindness towards him and Lynesse. He found that the daughter surpassed Lady Catelyn, especially now that he saw her here, alone, looking proud and self-assured but also enticingly beautiful in the snowy landscape that belonged to her, as the Queen.
Jorah stopped to meditate on the fact that humanity would probably owe its survival exclusively to strong, beautiful queens like Daenerys… and like Sansa, the woman who had started long ago preparing her castle for humankind's last stand without dragons, or direwolves, or advisors. The woman who - if rumours were right - had survived even direr trials than Daenerys herself, and was now here to rule as a peer to the Targaryen couple, her cousins.
He didn't want to intrude, but he lingered there, lost in his thoughts and entranced by the beautiful sight of the Queen in her Godswood, and so she noticed him. She moved towards him.
"Ser Jorah. You are a Northerner, after all, coming to seek some peace in the snowed woods" she commented on his presence there with a shy smile that reassured him she bore him no ill will. The Northerner assembly's formal conditional forgiveness was an understandable and practical-minded political and military move, but had he been truly forgiven by the Northerners in their hearts? Judging by the friendly attitude the Queen in the North showed, he might have a chance.
"Your Grace." It was strange saying it without the bitter taste in his mouth that was always there at the Targaryen court. "I hope I didn't disturb you. Yes, I… wanted to enjoy the beauty and the quietness of this place, considering it might be swarming with… less pleasant presences soon." Jorah immediately regretted saying that aloud: it was like ruining the place already. "Pardon me, Your Grace… I shouldn't have said that. One comes here to forget for a while, not to be reminded… I have always been blunt…"
Sansa's smile broadened. "Ser Jorah, bluntness deserves far more appreciation and praises than it usually gets. And from what I have heard about you, you don't lack in gallantry and courtesy either. Your knighthood is probably one of the most deserved ones, and fitting, too."
"Your Grace is too kind. I am still the man who sold poachers to slavers to pay debts, and fled justice, and shamed an old House of the North."
"Ser Jorah, from what I have been told – by you, by my cousins, and by Lady Lyanna - you are not the kind of man whose identity can be summed up like that. Didn't you sell those poachers because you wanted to give your wife all she wanted, to keep her smiling? And wasn't your wife the one who was always demanding expensive things to be happy? I recall even a few of my mother's remarks, about Lady Lynesse being unhappy in the North, and about you suffering to see her unhappy. As terrible as selling criminals to slavers is – and I am not overlooking that -, your crime tells me you are a man who does everything he can for love. And Queen Daenerys was only able to confirm this trait of yours to me. Isn't that trait one out of which songs and poems are made of? We all have our dark secrets, and our scars, Ser Jorah. There are no saints, probably not even gods. There are only men, and women, and their lives. You are a veteran of war: I am glad you are here with us, helping us prepare for the war, advising, ready to unsheathe your sword against the horror that's coming. If my father had beheaded you, we would not have dragons, or Daenerys' army, and we would not have you."
Jorah was so surprised by her opinion on him – she, the daughter of Eddard Stark - that he could only either stare at her wordlessly in wonder, or jape, and he went for the latter. "I don't believe you really talked to my cousin, then, Your Grace, if you are saying that."
Sansa burst into laughter. "She is a remarkable young Lady. Of course she is pissed: you left Bear Island when she was a baby, and one day she was left alone, all of her family dead by Lannisters' hand, to pick up the Lordship you handed down to her branch with your betrayal. She had to rule as a ten-year-old child in the midst of a terrible war: she had to toughen up. But she has accepted a formal forgiveness and reacceptance among the Northerners, and she will come around soon, I know. I never was very much attached to Jon either – I was even mean to him a few times -, but when I met him again at Castle Black, after years of being alone and suffering, I could only think he was family, the only family I had left, and so did he. And now I am immensely glad I have my cousin at my side" concluded Sansa, cleverly avoiding any direct comment on Daenerys, who rubbed her the wrong way for some reason she couldn't understand.
Lady Lyanna Mormont never shied away from her opinions, a common trait she shared with her estranged cousin, after all. She agreed that losing any right to a lordship and living as a penniless exile for so long had been an acceptable punishment, that fighting the dead was more important than anything, not to mention comparable to serving in the Night's Watch. But she had finished her speech with "And if you ever do anything against the honour of the North and of the name 'Mormont' again, I will behead you myself." He had smiled at her, and answered, "It's only fair, my lady", and he and Queen Sansa had noticed the hint of a satisfied smile on Lady Lyanna's face too.
"Anyway, Your Grace, my trait might be food for songs, but Florian was a fool. I think the songwriters might have meant to warn us between the lines, implicitly, and we never understood them correctly. "
Sansa almost answered that Jonquil loved Florian nonetheless, but she stopped herself in time.
She hadn't needed to have the word spelled out. Lord Tyrion and her cousins had been clear enough without ever being explicit. Moreover, the knight's handsome and blunt face had been an open book all along. Ser Jorah was a fool in love, but as opposed to Florian he first lost Lynesse, then never got Daenerys, and it pained him still.
"I used to like songs, especially those about Florian and Jonquil. Then I hated them for a while: I was convinced they were full of lies and deceit. But maybe there is more to them, now that you make me think about it. Maybe it's time to listen to them again, and see what they really meant to tell us."
"Songs. They can be dangerous. Prince Rhaegar lost everything, chasing for something he found in a song, apparently, according to your brother's visions."
"Prince Rhaegar and Aunt Lyanna married for love, were only separated by death, and gave us Jon, thus leaving us some hope. Remembering them for their deaths only doesn't make them any justice, Ser Jorah. And doesn't make you any justice either. It makes you sound like a man who doesn't care for love." Sansa stopped there, not wanting to say something that could hurt the unlucky knight.
"Forgive me, Your Grace. I need to explain myself. I admired Prince Rhaegar very much for what was told about him, and I never was too convinced by the version stating Lyanna was kidnapped. I knew your aunt – you see, she was enticed by Bear Island's traditions, and so she liked us Mormonts very much, talking to us every time we visited Winterfell for feasts. I was present at the tourney of Harrenhal, too, and I honestly suspected something was up. When I went to war, it was the Mad King I fought against in my mind, not Prince Rhaegar. After all, I had to follow my liege-lord, who was by then your father. I didn't dare discuss my views with him, grieving as he must have been. But I would be a liar if I denied how Rhaegar's death in front of my eyes hit me hard, how I felt sorry for him." And Jorah suddenly found an irony in the story that he wanted to share it with the Queen: "Now that I think of it, I should have known better than to name Lynesse Queen of Love and Beauty at the tourney of Lannisport and marry her. The previous winner of a tourney, who had married his Queen of Love and Beauty as well, ended up with his heart broken into pieces, and brought doom upon his House. The same happened to me later."
Sansa was impressed by the man's past, as well as by his storytelling and reasoning, but she also had another remark. "You keep forgetting, Ser. Without Prince Rhaegar – and my aunt – we wouldn't have Jon, and without you in exile in Essos we would not have Daenerys, her dragons, and her army. Maybe songs have to be bittersweet. But it doesn't mean they cannot be beautiful. And besides, there is still time to write new songs, maybe better ones."
"No, Your Grace, you are right. It's just that sometimes bitterness prevails, that's all. Maybe I shouldn't have saddened you with my sorrowful stories. You must have been so much on your mind already. Some cheerful story would have been more fitting."
Sansa observed the knight's saddened but very dignified expression, crowned by his courtly smile. She had never met a tourney winner who was able to name a Queen of Love and Beauty before. "Ser Jorah, why don't you tell me your whole story? I have become very curious about it. And I don't want you to make a song full of nothing but sorrow out of it. I am sure there is more beauty in your knightly tale than you admit. If you agree, of course. I always liked tales of knights, and now that I know there is another way of interpreting them, I would like to have a new story to put this theory to the test."
"It makes for a long story, though, Your Grace."
"But you can begin now, and continue in the next days. We cannot always be planning, or sharpening weapons, or thinking of doom, can't we? My family and my court are not exactly entertaining, right now, as you might have noticed. And…" Sansa caught herself before saying And you don't have to spend time with Daenerys anymore. "Well, I hope the enemy's march takes longer than needed. Besides, you are too valuable to be sent in the vanguard, and you don't ride a dragon either, which might buy us some more time. Please, Ser Jorah. Walk with me and start to tell me your tale."
The young queen uttered her request with a kindness that warmed his heart like nothing else had done recently, not even the hint of a smile by his little cousin. So, he agreed: he offered her his arms as knights usually do, and walked with her that day, and the following days.