Sun was burning his face as he tried to open his eyes a bit wider to see. They hid quickly behind eyelids again to protect his sight from the shining star. Jorah was dehydrated. He could barely breathe. Blood ran out of the wounds like a river. He felt his sword not far away from his right hand, blade still glaring despite the blood covering it.

Jorah felt a touch. A familiar one.

He could smell her perfume from afar but she was standing so close it almost disturbed his nostrils. His bear-like senses were strong.

"Jorah?" He tried opening his eyes again, this time more successful than at first. He looked her directly in her lovely violet eyes. She was pale, like she hasn't eaten in a while. Her hand held his head.

"Daenerys." He whispered her name. Using his voice was virtually impossible. "Water." Daenerys waved to her maid to fetch water.

Jorah started recognizing the place. It was not far from the fighting pitch of Mereen, closer to the Great Pyramid. He felt the coldness of fresh water on his lips, eager to drink it all.

"Let's not rush, Jorah. You've been here for days." He nodded and had a sip before leaning back his head on her hand, too tired to think of appropriate behaviour. He wanted a bed. He hasn't slept in a while, fighting his way back to Khaleesi. Every muscle and bone in his body hurt like seven hells. His stomach reminded him how mal nourished he actually was.

He noticed two Unsullied standing beside him.

"They will take you to the Pyramid. I'll see you get proper treatment there." She wanted to move and let the soldiers carry him but he held her hand.

"Daenerys...Thank you," he said, his dry lips barely moving. She squeezed his hand to prove she understood. Jorah couldn't remember much until he woke up in his old bedroom in the Great Pyramid of Mereen.

He managed to open his eyes fully this time. And what a sight that was. His body was sunk in a bathtub, the same one Daenerys used when he was still her dearest friend. He turned his head around and saw three young girls, about Missandei's age, talking in the corner of the room. One hit the other with her elbow and they all turned to him.

"Welcome back, Jorah the Andal." The only blonde in the company had a weird sponge in her hand Meereenese used for cleaning themselves. She approached him, sinking the object in the water and soaked his chest, scrubbing the dirt off of him. He leaned his head back. A bath was rare even when he was a lord on Bear Island, let alone later on. Jorah notice his head was now laying on something soft. The blonde giggled and he knew it was no pillow. It was better.

After years of fighting and being neglected by the woman he loved, Jorah wanted a female human being for nothing more than a fuck. As harsh as it sounds, he felt betrayed by love and welcomed by lust. His desire to squeeze a pair of teats and an arse was now clearer than ever before. The girls were obviously trained to please men, the blonde's hands caressing his chest with the other two, brunettes, already taking their clothes off, kissing each other. It was inviting. Jorah felt his lust getting in a shape of a sword, and he only thanked the gods it was under water. The blonde moved as one of the brunettes took her place. Her body was even softer to rest on as he felt a hand on his manhood. The blonde climbed into the bathtub, handling his arousal and leaning in for a kiss. And it was no kiss he ever gave to Lynesse. Her tongue tasted his mouth like a cook tastes his food, massaging his tongue, before parting and licking his lips.

No words were necessary. Her hand's movements were firm but slow. He kept eye contact with her before spilling his seed in the tub.

It was only moments later, when all the girls were dressed again. They left Jorah alone with his dangerous thoughts. He closed his eyes, imagining Khaleesi touching him like the blonde did. Before wandering into even more dangerous territory, he got out of the tub and got dressed in some fresh clothes. It was a replica of his favourite yellow shirt and a pair of trousers with a kilt, beside them some fresh breeches. He'd already forgotten the feel of fresh clothes.

He decided it was best to have a lay down. He wasn't feeling himself yet, for the loss of blood damaged his body too much. Soft silky sheets covered his clothed body but he still felt the fabric caressing him. It was years since he felt them, being sent away from his beloved Daenerys. He fell asleep in a minute.

An unusual noise woke him up. It was getting darker outside and was probably after dinner. He heard a scream. Unable to make up his mind about the source or the reason for it, he climbed out of his bed, putting on trousers and kilt, buckling up his sword belt. The second noise proved the source. It was Daenerys. He became good old Jorah again, his first priority being the well-being of his Queen. He walked in the corridor, getting closer to her room. The sounds became clearer. His hand left the hilt of the sword.

She was moaning.

He turned around, about to go back to his room before someone accuses him of eavesdropping. His legs, however, did not wish to obey. They stayed there, anxious to get inside. His curiosity forced him to open up the door...

There she was, sitting on the bed – or on someone under her, more likely – looking as beautiful as ever with her silver hair flowing freely on her back. She was naked as her name day. Jorah couldn't stop staring at her. They seemed to be too busy noticing him at the door so he quickly pulled back, closing the door slowly, and got back to his room.

Devastated.

Lost.

The next day she visited him in his bedchamber. He looked much better, the wounds were healing, not counting the one she made by breaking his heart. Jorah tried to look like he doesn't know or at least, doesn't care but his face was like an open book.

"Jorah, I...I was wrong sending you away from me. I missed your counsel, your support, your..." she stopped, searching for the right word, "friendship." He lifted up his head, his eyes looking for hers. "I want you to see something."

She pulled him up from the chair. "Come."

Jorah followed her to the dungeons where Daenerys kept her dragons. After Drogon escaped, her security got tighter. She didn't let them out as much as she used to, and even on those rare occasions, she rode them so they were under her control. Drogon grew big enough now to carry two people. She unchained him.

"Climb on Drogon, Jorah."

"I...Khaleesi, bears don't fly."

"They do if they're ordered to do so." He had no choice. Slowly, he climbed on dragon's back, like it was his first time on a horse. Daenerys climbed before him and ordered Drogon to carry them to his hiding place.

"Where are we going?" asked Jorah when they flew over Mereen. He swore to himself not to show fear in front of Daenerys.

"To a place Drogon carried me when everyone thought I died."

They arrived to a cavern far away from Mereen, on the Dothraki Sea. Drogon dropped them on the beach and went inside the cavern to look for food. Daenerys wrapped her hands around herself, the self-protecting posture she always made when she felt vulnerable. Jorah wanted to get closer to her, to wrap his own hands around her tightly, make her feel loved. Yet he could not forget what she did to him. And after everything he's done for her.

She broke the silence. "I dreamt about you here." She pointed at the fields of grass beside them. "You said...you said you only did it so you could go home. Because home was all you ever wanted."

He finally approached her, still keeping a little distance between them. "You always knew I prayed for home. And I found it. To my surprise, it wasn't Bear Island." He filled the space between them. His chest was almost leaning on hers. "It was you, Daenerys. You were my home until you sent me away." He swallowed hard. "And as much as I hate it, you still are. I was sweating and bleeding in that fighting pitch but I saw you and it gave me strength to fight. I knew I was home."

Her eyes watered a little. How could she not see it? He meant it. He protected her, fought for her, killed for her, went into the sewers like a rat, for her. He loved her.

Daenerys leaned closer to him, pressing her forehead to his. She wanted to kiss him, to forget his crimes. He deserved it, deserved to be loved properly. Her lips brushed gently against his lips. She was most surprised when he broke the kiss before it even began.

His mouth travelled to her cheeks and he whispered in her ear.

"You sent me away, remember?"

Daenerys remained alone as Jorah moved away from her. He sat in the grass, holding his knees close to his chest. He saw her sitting down next to him.

"I don't want you to take me for a fool you can play with. I know it was you who sent those girls yesterday to me...to pleasure me." He looked at her. "They did." He smiled and remembered the blonde playing with his hardened manhood until he spilled in the water. "But it was you I wanted." Jorah turned to Daenerys, holding her hand. "Kiss me only if you mean it, not because you feel sorry for me, or for your past actions."

She hesitated. Her lips moved closer to his, then withdrew again. She wanted to kiss him but she couldn't come clear whether it was love or lust, or maybe even pity on her side. His strong hands around her waist told her it was no pity. She had Daario, true, but he was unruly, wanted her only as a bedfellow. Jorah was different. He wanted her on a completely different level.

Daenerys' lips crushed on Jorah's. He could barely breathe from the excitement. Her tongue wandered into his mouth with gusto, her hands were searching for the quickest way to get his yellow shirt off of him. Lust took over both of them as they stripped each other naked. Jorah let out his arousal, pressing it on Daenerys' tights. She gasped as she felt it, long and hard. She wanted him in, not just pressed like this, teasing her. She pulled him down on the grass, put her right leg over his shoulder and made some more space for his manhood to enter her.

Jorah felt a tight wet grip of her womanhood. She was lying down with him kneeling at her entrance. He pushed in gently so she could accommodate him before going in all the way. He felt a pulse surrounding his cock and it was a sensational feeling. Daenerys wanted him as much as he wanted her. She moved her legs around his waist and sat up without even removing him from her wet place between her tights. Jorah stretched his legs but remained seated as she sat in his lap. He helped her reached a rhythm as she moved herself on him.

Daenerys had a hard time catching her breath. He reached every corner of her, filling her up much better than Daario. The kiss was a desperate way to calm him down as his rhythm became faster and harder. Jorah kept closing his eyes, trying to prevent himself from spilling into her. She threw her head back in pleasure, uncovering her neck, desperate to be kissed. Jorah took the hint, raining kisses from her neck down to her breasts, teasing her nipples. Daenerys screamed and moaned the entire time before finally reaching her release.

Her secret place reacted strongly when she came, tightening the grip on his cock. Jorah moaned and looked at her. He was close.

"Jorah..." She reached her high point but she didn't mind another. Her hips rocked on his hips, moving faster on his length.

"Daenerys, I...oh gods...get...get off..." She did no such thing, remaining on him. She felt a weave of warmth as he sprayed in her...

He heard someone calling him. "Jorah." It was her. Daenerys. "Jorah!" He opened his eyes. He was lying in the grass on the Dothraki Sea.

"What...what happened?" She blushed.

"You kept moaning, ser. I think those girls may not have done a job well enough on you." She smiled, looking at his waist. He noticed his manhood pressing the fabric of the kilt. "Obviously, you dreamt of something nice." She helped him stand up. "Shall we return?"

He stopped her. "Did...did you kiss me? Was it really all a dream?"

She smiled again, playfully this time, and wandered off to find Drogon. She turned her head around.

"What do you think, Jorah?"