Return

The encounter with the dragon (Drogon, Jon recalled its name was) left him shaken, yet exhilarated. The creature's skin burned hard and hot as Jon laid his trembling fingers upon its face, nearly too hot for comfort, like a stone that had sat long near a raging fire. It was fearsome to be sure and it was still difficult to comprehend that such creatures existed in the world, even after all Jon had seen in his short but eventful life. And yet the intelligence, the awareness in the dragon's eyes as it regarded him... he had not expected that. And as it turned to look at Daenerys as she dismounted, its keen awareness of her near it, and the care it took to avoid striking her down as it leapt to the sky... the whole experience reminded Jon of Ghost. In this moment he could easily understand the kinship Daenerys felt with her dragon children.

Jon forced himself to regain his composure before facing the queen. She had returned from Highgarden after a remarkably short journey, seeming satisfied with what she had accomplished. Jon didn't know what those accomplishments entailed, but he he could imagine. Their interaction was short lived before interruption. He was spared from answering her question about him taking a knife for his people. Which was good since he couldn't begin to know how to answer. She, like her dragons tended to leave him shaken as well. Yet exhilarated.

And this now was Jorah Mormont. Older, more weathered than Jon might have imagined, had he ever thought to imagine the Lord Commander's son. Sad seeming. Yet clear affection existed between this strange man and his Queen. The warmth in her voice as she addressed him and their interaction implied a long history together, though of what exactly he couldn't be sure. Friendship certainly, something more perhaps?

As Mormont pulled back from his Queen's embrace, he looked to Jon, expression inscrutable. Jon searched the man's eyes, unconsciously searching for signs of the man he had known, had respected, and felt he could see a resemblance. Despite the schism between father and son of which he knew bits and pieces, Jon felt himself take an instinctive liking to Jorah.

"This is Jon Snow... the King in the North. For now," Daenerys introduced him, hesitating before adding that last part with a wry smile, more playful than challenging. She was obviously in a good mood, Jon hadn't seen her in such good humour before. It suited her.

"You're Ned Starks' son." Jorah stated, stepping forward slightly to get a better look at him.

"I am." Jon agreed shortly.

"You defeated the Boltons, took your home back." Jorah glanced over at his Queen, seeming to gauge her reaction to the conversation before adding approvingly, "King in the North or not, I'm glad of it. The Starks belong in Winterfell."

"I did," Jon Snow agreed. "We did," He added. "My sister and the Northern houses. House Mormont among them."

"Bear Island." Jorah replied, a wistful look on his face. "I doubt such a small house could have helped that much."

"Not small in heart," Jon answered, a smile playing on his face. "Lady Lyanna especially."

"I've not met my cousin." Jorah replied, looking away awkwardly.

"Well," Jon waited until Mormont turned back and made sure to look the man in the eye before adding, "I hope someday you do." Jorah inclined his head politely, if doubtfully.

Daenerys watched this exchange, looking between the two men with interest. When their conversation stilled, she turned to Mormont. The wind had grown stronger in the last minutes, bringing a storm with it. Not snow, not yet Jon reckoned. But not far off. Probably weeks, maybe a month left before winter reached the south.

"You must be tired after a long journey Ser Jorah. I myself have also recently returned from a journey. A shorter journey than yours perhaps, but taxing. Let's go to the castle." As she started back she threw a teasing smile over her shoulder. "Shall we leave you to your brooding Jon Snow, or will you join us?" Her smile lingered on him and Jon felt his heart kick into his throat. It was a very fine thing, seeing her happy. She turned away before he could answer.

Daenerys and Mormont moved back to the castle, the Queen's guard flanking them. Jon followed, observing how closely the two stood together and tried not to dwell on an emotion that tugged at him, an emotion that felt suspiciously like envy.

Later back in his chambers with his head cleared, Jon's thoughts turned back to the matters at hand. Jorah Mormont, yet another worshipper of Daenarys Targaryan. Fiercely loyal. Loyal to a Queen who had just killed Gods knew how many Westerosi men in her war against Cersei. Men that they needed in the real war to come. She still didn't understand that the war against Cersei was irrelevant, consumed as she was by the Iron Throne. Yet in the short time he had been here, he too had seen glimpses into the kind of Queen Daenerys was. It wasn't difficult to see why they were loyal, why they all loved her. She was right, he didn't know how to feel.

This strange land and its strange politics was miles away from the North in more ways than just distance. It would be the death of him.

The door to his chambers opened and Ser Davos stepped through. "A Raven, your Grace," He said by the way of greeting as he handed him the parchment.

"Have you read it?" Jon asked as he unwrapped the roll. The seal appeared intact, but Jon wasn't a fool.

"No," Davos replied. "Although it came to me by way of Lord Varys, so you and I are probably the only people in this castle who haven't by now."

He read the note and despite the bad tidings, very bad tidings, the good news allowed him to indulge in a joy Jon hadn't felt since Sansa had walked into the Keep at the Wall. Arya and Bran. Alive, and at Winterfell. It was a miracle. A year ago he had imagined himself alone in this world, the last of his family. Now the Starks had expanded by yet two more. He suddenly itched to be home in a way he hadn't since his first day at Dragonstone.

"Good news I take it." Ser Davos remarked, observing Jon's expression. He was polite, but clearly impatient to know what was in the letter.

"No..." Jon admitted slowly. But as he looked up from the note into Davos' face, he couldn't help the wide grin from spreading onto his face, allowing himself this moment of happiness. "And yes."