"My bear," Khaleesi greeted him as Jorah arrived to her chambers for dinner. "You look exhausted." She had changed from her formal wear into another silk gown that reminded Jorah of their days across the Narrow Sea. Its deep purple hue made her eyes look violet and unnatural. A smile came to her lips when she noticed him staring.

"Only worried after Baylee," he replied, quickly bowing his head to the queen. He took his seat across from Daenerys and took a long drink of wine.

"How is she?" Daenerys asked, looking up at him over her own drink. "As your wife, I mean. I don't believe I ever asked. Are you happy?"

"Yes, Khaleesi. She is wise and kind," Jorah replied. "Far too good for me. I feel bad for her some days. She's young and beautiful. I'm an old worn-out knight. Boring, probably." He smiled weakly.

"Don't be so dismissive of yourself," Daenerys cooed. "You have been my strength and friend through many years, Ser." She raised her glass to him and drank the rest of its contents.

The kitchen staff brought in more food than ten men could have eaten; the feast had already been prepared when word came that the Starks wouldn't be arriving until the next day.

"Where is Missandei, Tyrion?" Jorah asked. "They could join us. There's-"

"They're out." The queen smiled coyly. "The servants will have their fill, as well – they've kept half for themselves. I'm afraid you and I will be quite satisfied by the end of the night."

The conversation was pleasant and easy as they ate. Exhaustion and angst regarding his wife's spying mission left Jorah's stomach uninterested in food, but the fine fruits and pastries charmed him enough. He unceremoniously tore a leg from the roast bird on the table and ripped a chunk off with his teeth.

"Do you miss little things like this?" Daenerys suddenly asked.

Jorah looked up and realized she'd been watching him. He hastily wiped the grease from his lips. "What do you mean?"

"Eating together. No staff, no palace guards. Just the two of us without a thousand eyes everywhere. You were always enough to protect me by yourself for years. I miss eating stale bread on some dusty cliff, watching the sun fall behind the horizon." She finished her wine and poured another.

"I could leave the stale bread," Jorah joked.

"The rest, though? Like this! I'm perfectly capable of refilling my own glass. I don't see why I need a cup bearer. So many people about all the time."

The queen rarely drank, and Jorah had already counted several glasses of wine. He laughed. "Khaleesi, Dornish wine is stronger than you might think. That is why you have cup bearers."

She waved her hand at him, rolling her eyes. "Please. I conquered Westeros, but you think I cannot hold my wine? I'd be perfectly capable of ruling the seven kingdoms with none but you by my side."

"We had more help when you took it," he countered her. "And a queen cannot rule alone. Our allies, your palace staff? They're a part of it whether you like it or not." He ate another pastry, hoping she'd move on to another topic.

"You're right," the queen nodded. "Though it's strange to get used to the world having expanded so massively in no time at all. Guards. A court. Lords and ladies. And you! I'm not accustomed to sharing you, Ser Jorah. I used to have you all to myself out in the wilderness." She popped a small berry into her mouth. "The other evening when you dared raise your voice to me in my own chambers? Well," she raised an eyebrow. "I see you must truly love your wife. Never before have I had competition for your affection. I can't say I liked the feeling."

Something new was burning in her; something Jorah had not seen. It startled him and he sat back in his chair, uncertain whether he should stay or dismiss himself. In another time. Another place.

"Ser Jorah," Daenerys offered. Her words slurred just slightly; none but Jorah would ever be able to detect it. "How many times have you professed your feelings for me? And how many times did I ignore those confessions?" She tilted her head and offered a sultry smile. "My old bear. I only took you for granted because I knew you would never leave me. But now you have!"

"I vowed to serve you. I do, Khaleesi. I will until I die."

Daenerys leaned forward, her chin on her hand. "Do you love me still, Ser Jorah?" Her food was long forgotten.

"Khaleesi," Jorah warned, his velvety voice suddenly raspy and harsh. She is drunk. These words are empty. Your love has never been a concern of hers before.

"When we met, I was just a girl. Do you remember? I remember the first time I saw you." The queen poured another glass of wine and ignored Jorah when he signaled that she shouldn't. "I was with Viserys at my wedding to Drogo." She took a long drink, delicately wiped her lips, then smiled. "You were the first knight I ever saw."

"I remember," Jorah nodded. Sweat rolled down the back of his neck. His tongue felt like it had swollen to three times the regular size and the wine wasn't helping with how dry his mouth was. She's drunk, he reminded himself. That's all. Nothing more.

"When I woke after that witch killed my sun and stars and my son, it was you who had saved me. And how many other times did you save me? And my dragons – my children - adore you." Now her eyes scanned down his neck and chest. "My bear. You have always protected me and I have given you nothing in return."

"You've given me everything," he replied in a murmur.

She rose from her chair and reached for his hand. "Come, Ser Jorah. There's something I want to show you."

"Khaleesi?" His heart pumped harder and faster.

Her hand still extended and a girlish excitement on her face, she nodded. "I want you to be the first to know."

Hesitantly, Jorah stood. He stared at the queen's hand. For the first time in a long time, he was nervous. Every time he offered his hand to Daenerys, she took it, blindly trusting him to lead her to safety, to salvation, to the Iron Throne. Yet he couldn't reach out and take hers.

Tired of his indecision, Daenerys snatched his wrist and pulled him along, deeper into her chambers. Jorah let out of small breath of relief as they passed the bedroom and instead headed to the balcony.

"They were a gift. Former slaves from Qarth traveled here to deliver them," she explained, her voice high in volume and pitch. "A man and a woman. They're lovers now, and married. She was large with child, but still they traveled here upon finding them in a market because they thought it that important."

On the balcony, a basket of blankets and cushions sat atop a table. Daenerys urged him forward. "Go see!"

Jorah uncovered the contents. A pair of scaly stones caught the evening sunset and seemed to glow. Navy blue, they sparkled flecks of purple and green. "Dragon eggs?" he exclaimed.

"Petrified, the same state as my children's." The queen was beaming and bouncing on her toes. "Twins. The same color, but different than their older brothers."

He ran a hand over the eggs in wonder. How many more are out there? He turned to the queen, but all at once, she was in his arms. Jorah stepped backward in utter surprise, but Daenerys moved with him and pinned him against the table. Her silk dress slid against his tunic as she reached and laced her hands around his neck. Before he could react, she'd stretched upward and mashed her lips against his. The kiss was everything he had ever imagined. Her lips were soft and plump even as she moved them passionately, hungrily. But after years of wanting nothing else but this, Jorah stepped away from her. Baylee, he thought in distress.

"Come," Daenerys commanded him, completely unbothered. Her grip was firm as she pulled him into her chambers to her bed.

The deep amethyst pillows and sheets on the massive mattress looked like a pool that would swallow them alive. None dare say no to Daenerys Targaryen. Jorah's thoughts spiraled, churning out likely scenarios. Denying her will be the end of my position beside her. Then what? A sellsword again? I'll lose Baylee like I lost Lynesse.

The queen turned and reached to pull him into the bed. Fleeting panic made his heart skip a beat. You cannot deny her. You cannot take her to bed. Either choice would ruin him. Instead of falling onto the covers with her, Jorah lifted her into his arms. This time, he initiated the kiss; gently, carefully. What next? something in Jorah barked. Choose carefully. You'll ruin her honor, your honor, Baylee's. You cannot deny Daenerys Targaryen, but you cannot give her what she wants.

Eagerly reciprocating the kiss, Daenerys wrapped her legs around his waist and wove her fingers in his hair. He moaned softly at her touch. The scent of her had never been this clear and the dragon queen was allegedly a wild lover, and hadn't he fantasized about her for years? Spending years of his life mere inches from her was torture, and perhaps it was about to pay off. He loved her, truly loved her, and that's more than he could assume about any of her other lovers.

One of his hands held fast against the small of her back. The other wandered to her ass and squeezed. Laughter rumbled in her throat.

"You've bested every man you've fought, but I am no man," she warned playfully. "I am a dragon."

"A queen," Jorah murmured against her lips. It was obvious from the day he saw her in person. Daenerys Targaryen was born a queen. And now she's in my arms. Excitement began to simmer, pushing away his trepidation.

Her toes brushed the floor and he set her down. Then her hands were gone from him, too. For a moment disappointment and relief fought valiantly, but both faded away almost instantly. Daenerys pulled at a sash around her neck. Violet fabric flowed off her and puddled on the floor.

The unburnt indeed, Jorah mused as he beheld her. The deep purple bed stood in stark contrast to her bare white skin. At that moment he could have sworn she was a witch in her own right, holding him speechless and spellbound. Thoughts wouldn't form and Jorah couldn't react when she reached out for him.

"It's not fair I be the only one undressed," Daenerys sneered confidently. In a flash, she'd unlaced and pulled off Jorah's tunic. "Better. For now." She again stood on her toes and stretched to kiss him.

Her breasts pressed against his bare chest and Jorah groaned. "Khaleesi," he mumbled against her lips.

For someone who ruled thousands, millions of people, she seemed so delicate. Every time he'd seen her in the buff, the same thought crossed his mind. Now that she was under his hands, he realized how wrong he was. Ribs were obvious under perfect parchment skin, but long, lean muscle lie hidden.

When Daenerys gave him a hard shove toward the bed, Jorah inhaled sharply and stood fast to his position. This is your only chance.

"Enough of this taunting," she playfully commanded, putting her hands on his chest and pushing him more. "You'll have me at last. Enough foreplay. Years of anticipation is enough, is it not?" She reached for his belt, a calm look about her as she did. "I've wondered about you. What did I nearly miss out on? What a foolish girl I was." She whipped the leather from his pants and let it fall to the floor. "And to think I didn't employ the lord's right on your wedding night," she drunkenly giggled.

Gods, help me. "Wait," he exclaimed. "Wait. I cannot."

Daenerys stroked his thigh before taking his erection in her hand. "It seems you can. So fuck me, Ser Jorah." She knelt down and grabbed the top of his pants, but he moved away from her and away from the bed.

It was far too much, but we didn't touch the bed, Jorah reasoned with himself, trying desperately to ward off the guilt he knew was about to slam into him. How many men would have bedded the queen? I never did. It was too much, but only as I tried to keep her from the bed. The image of Baylee's laughing face crossed his mind. He knew he'd done his best, but would his wife understand?

"Jorah? What are you doing?" She sat back on the bed, completely unabashed at her nudity.

"Baylee," Jorah muttered, sighing in shame and closing his eyes. Please let her understand. Please let her be unoffended. "Forgive me, Khaleesi. My wife is hours away with Lannister rebels and I vowed to-"

"You said you would always love me," she cut him off, her voice flat.

He nodded and realized his heart was racing. "I did." Back to being a sellsword when she tosses you out of her service.

"Then why do you shame me like this?" Her cheeks burned red and her queenly disapproval had returned. "Do not pretend that you don't watch me. For years I have smelled the lust about you. If I'd have asked, you would have had me anywhere, at any time. Why not now?" Her tone reminded him of a pouting child.

"I do. I did," Jorah corrected himself. "But Baylee-"

"Is a plain girl I picked for you because you deserve a wife and she a husband." Daenerys snapped. "But you said you'd love me." Her cheeks were flushed red with the wine and her eyes glimmered with wetness.

"I do, Khaleesi," Jorah breathed.

"You cannot love us both," she snapped. Wet tears finally spilled over the rims of her eyelids. "I'll keep her in Highgarden, if that's what it takes. I'll not be outdone by some lowborn Tyrell girl. If she can win your affection, why would the seven kingdoms not be won over by the Lannister faithful?"

"Khaleesi, we drank a lot of wine and-"

"Leave me." Her voice was low and dark and Jorah didn't even stoop to retrieve his tunic before obeying.