Here is just a bittersweet little scene I wrote for 8x05. It's supposed to be set in the early portions of Dany's grief. Im leaving it open to interpretation on whether or not this conversation changes Dany's actions. I apologize for any grammatical mistakes. I hope you enjoy! please review and let me know what you think!
Daenerys stared into the flames crackling lightly within the stone fireplace. She had been sitting in the same spot for hours, but she could not bring herself to move. She had neither the strength nor desire to pull herself to her feet. Hardly anyone had disturbed her silence, but she was not sure if it was out of fear or respect. She did not particularly care.
Daenerys had turned down the offered meals. The emptiness of her stomach was dull in comparison to the emptiness of her heart.
Daenerys tipped her head back and squeezed her eyes shut as another wave of grief wracked through her body. She fought the burn of tears behind her eyelids and gritted her teeth until it was painful. She had cried enough already. Her body nearly ached with the effort of battling her own grief.
Daenerys couldn't stand the sight of anyone, but also craved the comfort of those who loved her. With that desire came the cold truth that all of her loved ones were gone and they could not comfort her from the grave. She was more alone than she had ever been before.
Daenerys fought back memories of days under the hot sun in Essos. Those days she had spent surrounded by friends...her family. She couldn't live in the happiness of the past because it was too painful. She only wanted to close her eyes and forget.
With her head resting against the hard back of the wooden chair, Daenerys turned towards the small table beside her. The leather bound book that rested on the solid structure made her heart ache further. She had brought it close to the fire with the intent of tossing it into the flames, but found she didn't have the strength to destroy her last connection to a happier life. The book was the final physical representation of her greatest love.
She traced her fingers along the rough, weather-worn cover of the book and her eyes drifted shut.
"Khaleesi," her eyes flew open as the familiar rough edges of Ser Jorah's voice echoed through the air.
Daenerys' heart leapt into her throat as she stared into familiar blue eyes. She bolted forward in her chair, confused and overjoyed. Daenerys closed her eyes and reopened them in an attempt to clear her vision.
Clear as day, Ser Jorah remained crouched on his haunches in front of her. His gaze was soft with concern as he waited for her to speak. She felt a tearful sob escape her throat as she reached out to touch her knight. Daenerys' hands shook violently until they found the warm strength of Ser Jorah's face. She gently placed her palms against his scruffy cheeks.
Daenerys' vision blurred with tears as she desperately attempted to memorize each line of his face. Her thumbs caressed the rough edges of his beard. Ser Jorah watched her with a soft expression.
Daenerys' heart ached with the truth that she had never told him how much he meant to her. He had died believing he was unloved. He had died for her and now she was failing him. She felt more lost than the young girl wandering the Red Waste.
"Khaleesi?" Ser Jorah's voice pulled her from her commiserating thoughts.
"Would you advise me one last time, Ser Jorah?" she whispered, his name almost too painful to say out loud.
Ser Jorah's worried expression vanished and was replaced by warm understanding.
"Of course, Your Grace," he stated with an affectionate smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.
"What do I do?" she asked, her voice breaking. He did not need her to elaborate further even though her question was impossibly vague.
Ser Jorah pulled her hands from his face and held them gently in his own, close to her lap. His eyes shone with familiar love as he gazed up at her.
"You become the fair ruler that the people of Westeros have been waiting for," he stated.
"How?" she asked, her voice sounding like that of a lost child.
"You lean on the people that believe in you. Don't let those you hate destroy your kind heart. You are not alone, Khaleesi," he stated firmly, squeezing her hands in assurance. She could feel the truth behind his words through his unyielding confidence in matters pertaining to her inner strength. No one had ever believed in her the way Ser Jorah had. His love went beyond power and beauty and did not fade with time. She had taken his presence in her life for granted because of his devotion to her. Now it was too late.
Ser Jorah had returned to her many times before, but now not even love could bring him back.
"I miss you," Daenerys whispered, her gaze shifting to their conjoined hands. She could almost feel memories of their difficult journey together through the rough edges of his palms. She liked the way his large hands engulfed her much smaller ones. Even his hands felt like a protective shield as they covered hers.
"We should be better at saying farewell by now," Ser Jorah's soft words pulled her eyes back to his face. They were words she had spoken to him before. There was a sad smile on his lips and she shook her head in tearful denial. When she had spoken those words to him, it had been a temporary goodbye. She didn't like the permanence of the words as he spoke them now.
Unable to handle the pain of her heart breaking, she did what she had always done; she found comfort in her strong knight.
Daenerys burst forward and wrapped her arms around Ser Jorah's neck. He let out a surprised chuckle that rumbled against her chest. His arms wrapped around her back as she buried her face into the crook of his neck. She closed her eyes and held him tightly, allowing his familiar smell and warmth to envelop her.
"Please, don't go, Jorah," she pleaded in a hushed tone.
Daenerys opened her eyes to gaze at Ser Jorah one last time, but found the room empty. Her head rested on the back of the stiff wooden chair while her hand lay on the book beside her. Had it all been a dream? How could she feel the light pressure of Ser Jorah's hands around hers?
Daenerys lifted her head from the chair and noticed the fire had all but gone out and she was left in partial darkness.
Daenerys grabbed the leather book from the side table and pressed it to her chest. Although her heart still ached, she felt an emotion she thought gone forever: hope.
