AN: Apologies this one took a little longer than usual; I had to spend a great deal of time staring at a map of Westeros to make sure everything worked in their plan! If anyone spots a fault, forgive me — but I trust we're all well-versed in exercising a little suspension of disbelief after watching Season 8, no? ;-)
CHAPTER 7
-Jorah-
In the days that followed, there was little time for such frivolity as their short escapade into the snow. With numbers accounted for and the dead honoured, attentions turned to the war table once more, the pieces having decidedly lessened.
Over half of the Dothraki had been killed. As friends — no — a new family since their exile to Essos, their loss hit both Daenerys and Jorah hard. When the throne was won, Daenerys had promised the horselord survivors that their dead, who had served to protect Westeros, a nation who had given the Dothraki little but venom, would be proudly memorialised in King's Landing. The dead rode proudly with Khal Drogo, she had proclaimed, and they would be watching those left in the world of the living. They would find their victory, for the glory of their fallen. For the blood of their blood.
Many of the Unsullied had fallen protecting the retreat. Their names, their own chosen names, would be remembered in song, for they were no longer slaves, Daenerys reminded them, but soldiers and knights who defended a foreign realm and its people. They would find victory for their fallen, and they would not let chains snake across the wrists of any person their shields could yet defend.
House Karstark had fallen, as had House Mormont for all intents and purposes — as he had pointed out himself, Jorah had long since been stripped of his Lordship, and was still and exile on the run from House Stark's execution. He could not reinstate himself into House Mormont, he had told Daenerys.
"Then I will reinstate you," Dany had responded simply and curtly, only for the knight to decline.
"It would not sit well with the Northerners to have a Targaryen monarch overrule House Stark," he had explained, noting the annoyance growing in Dany's eyes. "Our allegiance is secured, but it is by no means stable. Best not do anything to tip that delicate balance."
So it was that House Mormont, for the moment at least, removed from the war table.
The discussions went on for hours, and before long Jorah could feel that sickly, prickling heat rising under his skin and through his veins. The fever had not truly let go, and every now and then it resurged in bouts of intensity, as if to remind him of the fire that now fed his very life force. A fire not meant for a mere bear, but for a dragon.
It still worried at his mind that the true cost had not been found. There had to be one, and more than a monstrous eye and a few rows of scales upon his skin.
"No. We cannot risk flying over open water," Daenerys' voice cut through Jorah's thoughts, bringing him back to the matter at hand. She was in the middle of dismissing a plan of action. "I would be reliant on cloud cover to evade a potential attack, and if the skies are clear, my dragons would be open targets for her Scorpions. I have no doubt she has had many more made, as well as seaworthy ones. Besides, my forces are ill-suited to battle by sea. Cersei's forces, on the other hand," Dany picked up the wooden icons for the Iron Fleet and the Golden Company, "are experts at it. It's too risky."
"Agreed. But we need a position by the sea in order to prevent any supplies reaching King's Landing," Tyrion commented, the story upon his face telling of that sharp mind working to unravel the problem presented to them. "We could move a portion of our forces to Harrenhal. It is currently leaderless, and there's a good chance Cersei does not realise yet that Lord Baelish is dead, or does not have time or the forces spare to take it if she does know. If so, she will not have looked towards Harrenhal for some time."
Jon moved towards the war table next, and Jorah felt himself observing the other man closely. He could not deny the underlying thread of jealousy that brought a stiffness to his jaw whenever the other man was in his presence, but prior to being brought back to life, it had simply been a natural reaction of his heart that Jorah could live with. After all, if he could separate the pain of his unreturned love for Daenerys from the joy of his reciprocated platonic love between a knight and his Queen without tarnishing it, then dismissing jealousy before it could take root in something darker was a simple task.
Or it had been, before flames snaked into his veins. Jorah tersely looked away, trying to ignore the fact he had noticed Jon had been unable to even look at Daenerys of late. Jorah had dared not ask his Queen why.
"We can send the Dothraki and Unsullied as the majority there then, as they are far better suited to travel over land, as Your Grace says," Jon agreed. "But we can't ignore the strategic advantage of Dragonstone. Some of our forces will have to head by sea. We have a handful of Greyjoys at hand, and Ser Davos knows these waters better than any of us."
Jorah kept his one, uncovered eye trained on the roaring fireplace off to the right of the table. Splitting their forces was wise enough, but it didn't solve the main issue at hand:
"With our forces stationed, then what? King's Landing will be heavily prepared for an assault, direct or not. Cersei knows we cannot risk a frontal assault, and aerial approach with Drogon and Rhaegal is out of the question here. We're not fighting tens of thousands of undead between us and a monarch this time — the false queen sits behind tens of thousands of innocent people. She will be quite prepared to let them starve to death, and no doubt has provisions stocked for herself. A blockade is pressure, but it would be costly to the common folk too."
A silence dropped across the room, though not of despair but of thought. There had to be something they were missing...not by land, by sea, or by air.
"The tunnels," Tyrion suddenly spoke, moving his hand from where it had been twisting his beard in thought as he mulled over the matter. He turned quickly to look at Varys, earning something of a disapproving look from the Spider. Clearly, this was his information and he didn't want it shared so readily. "There are tunnels under the Red Keep. Does Cersei know of them?"
"Few did, until now," Varys replied dryly, folding his hands into his silken sleeves. "And their exits are close to King's Landing itself. The furthest from King's Landing would be the exit that leads out to the cliffs over Blackwater Rush, to the south," The Spider unfurled one hand to tap on the war table at the location in question.
Jorah approached the table then, leaning to point further up the river from where Varys had.
"Stoney Sept is near the headwaters of Blackwater Rush. Last I heard, the town was under House Tully's leadership. We would be safe enough there, and even if we could not use the tunnels, it's strategically well-placed."
"True," Varys agreed in a voice like ribbons, smooth and always tangled to ensnare. "Plus, the new Prince of Dorne has voiced his support of the Targaryen Queen. We could send word to him to send forces here from the south and meet in Stoney Sept. The reinforcement of our numbers could be the key to victory."
Daenerys began to slid the pieces representing their dwindled forces; some to Dragonstone, comprising mainly of the scattered few Greyjoys that had come with Theon before the war, and a handful of Unsullied and Stark forces; some to Harrenhal, namely the Dothraki and other Northmen; and some to Stony Sept, comprising of the remaining Unsullied and her dragons. Blank tokens were placed further south in Dorne, in hopes of this potential support.
"My dragons will be safest here," she said, more to herself than to the room Jorah felt. "Stoney Sept is near the mountains. If we should endure a surprise attack, my dragons will have the advantage of mountain cover, and our enemies will struggle with the footing."
"Thought dragonscale was meant to be tougher than fucking steel," the unceremonious tones of Sandor Clegane growled from his seat in the corner, where the man had elected to make a show of disinterest until now. "How'd your however-many-great-uncle-grandfather conquer all of fucking Westeros with a dragon and you can't even take King's Landing?"
The silence that followed was suffocating, with the Dragon Queen's burning look pinning the Hound beneath it.
"I could," she answered, both words as sharp as swords and cutting down whatever intimidation Clegane had hoped to muster. "But I don't intend to be the Queen of Cinders. Only those who raise a blade against me or my people will put to fire."
Watching as Clegane got to his feet, towering over the Targaryen, Jorah felt his hand fall to the hilt of his sword at his side, foot shifting slightly to move if the man came any closer. He did not know the Hound well beyond his reputation, but that was enough.
A smirk twisted Clegane's half-burned lips, though if Jorah wasn't mistaken, something of a glimmer of respect passed over his features as Daenerys remained standing exactly where she was, moving only to crane her neck back to keep her eyes locked on his.
"And what about those who raise Scorpions? Seems to be a pretty big fucking weakness for your flying lizards if they can be shot down that easily."
Dany's brows raised, a smile breaking through her previously-unmoving mask as a mocking laugh parted her lips.
"Easily? Tell me, Clegane...do you know how many dragons have fallen to those contraptions?"
The man did not answer, remaining staring pointedly at the Silver Queen. Jorah was frozen in place not in fear, but coiled like a spring. At the slightest move, his sword would be at Clegane's throat, a fight he knew would certainly not be an easy one. House Clegane was well-known on the battlefield for utter brutality, as well as their unfiltered manner of speech.
Daenerys turned away from Clegane, walking around the length of the table to rest a hand on a pile of books that rested at the head of the table. The topmost book, Jorah realised, was the same one she had been reading the night she had brought him something to eat after he had awoken properly. In better light, he recognised the tome as one of the books of Westerosi songs and history that he himself had gifted to her on her wedding day. Its outer cover was sun-bleached and worn, as the Mormont was somewhat surprised it had survived all their travels.
"Two. During the first war against the Dornish, when a single bolt from a Scorpion brought down Meraxes. The Dornish were very proud of this kill, for it was the first in recorded history. So proud that they build swathes and swathes of the contraption, building all their strategies around this weapon, just as Cersei is doing now. The Dornish did succeed in piercing a dragon's wing after this, but little else. They had neglected the truth of Meraxes' fall. That single bolt found one of the few parts of a dragon not protected by dragonscales; their eyes. Luck was on their side that day, but it did not stay. They died in flames.
"The second did not immediately kill poor Vermax, but he fell to the ocean for its strike and perished beneath the waves. And I have seen one hamper Drogon's wing and bring him to ground. I will not risk flying over open seas. But over land, the advantage is ours."
Dany turned back to Clegane then, her gaze unwavering. "So, to answer your question — those who would raise a Scorpion to me or my people? They will die wishing they'd paid a little more attention to history so as not to repeat those mistakes. But I will not."
Jorah felt his heart swell with pride for his Queen's words. He had seen her war strategies in play before, her skills as a tactician honing from the counsel around her. How anyone in the North could yet deny her position as the ruler Westeros so desperately needed in order to rise from the ashes of tyrants was beyond him.
Clegane eventually gave a huff that might have passed as a chortle.
"Give it a week into your reign and you'll wish you had burned that shithole to the ground," he growled, but took his seat in the corner to resume his brooding once more. Jorah's hand relaxed on his sword, though his eye remained on Clegane. It was no secret why the man stayed with them — a blood score to be settled with his brother, who was within the walls of King's Landing. No doubt Clegane cared little if Daenerys burned the city to ashes, other than the fact it would rob him of his want to kill Ser Gregor. Had he pushed Daenerys to see if her anger would spark, or if he was truly safe to head into King's Landing without worry of her dragonfire hailing from above?
"We have a means directly into the Red Keep, but it won't hold an army," Tyrion brought their attention back to the table and the tunnels. "In fact, I daresay those tunnels wouldn't hold Clegane."
This earned a growl from the Hound, but little else.
"The walls closest to the Red Keep are thin as well. You can hear much from within these tunnels," Varys observed, though he still looked quite pained to reveal these secrets to so many. "But of course, the sound of many people stomping through the tunnels would be heard from within the Keep as well."
"The tunnels are still an advantage if played correctly, though a risky one," the Hand countered, his brow furrowing as he untangled the problems before them at speed. "Cersei's guards would be on alert immediately upon seeing any one of us, but the Golden Company might stay their tongues long enough to hear a counter-offer. They fight for the winning side, do they not?"
"They never break a contract," Jorah advised, his experience with the Golden Company proving this. "Or at least, that used to be so. Under their current commander, there have been whispers of the Company doing just that."
"Men are swayed more by gold than by reputation these days," Tyrion pointed out. "Is it possible we could offer them more than Cersei?"
"Nothing they would be interested in," Daenerys interjected, a darkened expression toning her voice sharp and cold. "This group was founded by rebels against my family, and whatever changes they have undergone, they remember their Blackfyre roots. My brother once tried to talk them into his cause. They merely laughed at him. They would never fight for a Targaryen."
"What about not fighting for a Targaryen?" The Queen's Hand asked aloud, the question posed to everyone including himself. "Could we offer them more than Cersei to simply not take part in the war at all?"
"You want us to hire the Golden Company to not fight for us or Cersei?" Jon reiterated, "You're paying them to leave?"
"Precisely!" Tyrion became more animated as the plan quickly and clearly cemented in his mind before their eyes. "What better offer could there be? More gold to turn around and go safely home. No war, no potential for being burnt to death, no fighting dragons, and more importantly, more money for it. They'd be mad not to."
Jorah mused over the ludicrous plan, though the more he did so, the more it made sense. Strickland was never much a warrior, preferring to lead the Golden Company by the purse rather than by the sword. It had been a point of growing unrest within the mercenaries of the company, in which Strickland's leadership fell mainly on his ancestry. Such an offer would no doubt ring well in his ears.
"Removing the Golden Company from play would certainly tilt the war heavily in our favour, even if the Dornish don't reinforce us," Varys commented, shifting the tokens for the Golden Company slightly away from the board before them with one fluid sweep of the back of his hand. It left Cercei's known forces looking worse for wear than their own to be sure.
"I suppose I ought to be part of the group heading through the tunnels then," Tyrion surmised, nodding to Jorah. "Care to join me on another adventure, Mormont?"
Jorah could feel the pain show on his face before he had chance to mask it. He made a note to pour wax into his ears to stifle the sound of the Lannister's incessant wittering before they were to leave…
The rest of the meeting was spent dividing tasks among the tri-split forces heading to Dragonstone, Harrenhal, and Stoney Sept respectively. One-by-one, people took their leave to begin preparations, and Jorah noted with some suspicion that Jon was among these people. Usually the man would stay behind after everyone else had left. But today, the Stark had quickly made his way from the room, leaving Daenerys and Jorah the only two at the war table.
He had seen the sorrow in Daenerys' eyes as the other man left, but dared not ask. But he quickly discovered he didn't need to. The Dragon Queen beckoned him to sit with her by the fire, and there, she regaled him with a story...of her late brother Rhaegar, of Robert Baratheon's love Lyanna Stark, and the truth of the wolf and the dragon. Of why the North-raised man struggled in her presence now.
How has this secret remained hidden for so long? Ser Jorah was stunned by what he heard, the truth of the current Targaryen bloodline.
"He...he is Aegon Targaryen. My...my nephew," Daenerys admitted in a half-whisper for what Jorah suspected to be the first time out loud, given the twisting of her features as she spoke them. "His claim to the throne is—"
Without thinking, Jorah leaned forward and took Daenerys' hands in his own, seeking to banish this thought before it could take root.
"—is not a threat to you, Khaleesi."
Gemstone eyes focused on his scarred hands enveloping her own, and for a moment, Jorah feared she would snatch them away as she retreated into herself for fear of this apparent claim to her throne. She didn't, but her eyes did not lift from their joined hands.
"He could assert his claim," she noted, her voice void of emotion. For all the world, what she said was true in the current world. No matter how much she had fought, no matter how much she had proven, a simple word and the system of their monarchy would end Daenerys' uprising in the eyes of the law. The wheel would turn, bringing her claim from the skies down into the ground…
"I do not believe Jon would do that," Jorah admitted. True, he fostered jealousy for the other man; what sane man wouldn't? But in equal measure, he held respect for him. He was a good man, a just man — and whatever the truth of blood, he was certainly a reflection of Ned Stark's upbringing. Jorah was quite sure Jon was one of the few men in the world who not only felt no lure of the throne, but actively rejected it. "But even if he did...it doesn't matter. Clamouring claims and tangled bloodlines are part of the wheel that has brought the Iron Throne to where it is today — the seat of tyrants. The wheel you have sworn to break and free Westeros and its people from. A rightful ruler is one who proves themselves.
"Your claim to the throne is based on more than blood, Khaleesi. It is based on your actions and your heart. You were born many places down the line of succession to the throne; the wheel has always turned against you. And yet, you were born to be Queen. No matter what house banner you were born under, Daenerys Stormborn was always born to be Queen of Westeros."
Still, she did not look up from their joined hands, though Jorah thought he could see something of a smile echoing on her lips. Nothing but a ghost of a smile though, distant and sorrowful. When she did eventually look up and meet his eyes, it was with the resolution of a Queen. She spoke from the heart, but clearly and evenly, though the words seemed to come from nowhere:
"I could have loved you, Ser Jorah. Did you know that?'
The effect was instantaneous. Jorah's heart plunged to his gut, cold and frozen, and his limbs became leaden and refused to move. He felt his jaw clench, refusing to let him reply to this most dreadful of lamentations.
But the Dragon Queen continued. "You know well that I hold a great deal of love for you. You are my most trusted advisor, my closest friend. I have loved you and hated you, forgiven you and relied on you. But I did not fall in love with you."
He knew it well, and yet, the words did not cut any less deeper in his heart for the foreknowledge of them. He had always found some solace in the fact that Daenerys had simply never fallen in love with him; the heart chose as it wished after all. But from her words, Jorah felt that the Queen was pointing out a cause that prevented this love from forming. No doubt she meant his betrayal. This knowledge pained him far more than having thought she simply never felt the same for him — that he had had a hand in this. A perfect punishment, perhaps.
He had overstepped his mark, he thought to himself, and began to lean backwards, hands sliding away from Daenerys'.
Quick as a flash, her own grip tightened, preventing him from breaking their contact. Confused, Jorah wordlessly searched her face for answers. She gave none.
"Khaleesi, I—"
"You know this. And I know why you fought your way back to me, why you endured the pain of greyscale to return once more. But you have long since earned my forgiveness and had your redemption in my eyes. You have fought for me, and died for me...even though you know your love for me will not be returned. Why?"
He knew why. But the sudden baring of this wound robbed him of his voice for a moment. Swallowing against a dry throat, Ser Jorah spoke as his Queen demanded:
"I vowed to serve you. To protect you, and to die for you if need be. I still draw breath, so...here I stand."
Minute and possibly imagining it, he thought he saw Dany shaking her head a little, incredulous of his simple answer.
"But you fight with your whole heart. You fight with everything you have for something you think you will never know. If you have made peace with the idea that your love for me will not be returned, then what do you truly fight for? No man fights with as much fire as you simply to put their king or queen upon the throne."
Do you truly not see? Jorah wondered to himself. He sighed heavily, dropping his gaze to their hands once more as he spoke.
"Because you have given me the gift of your love, Khaleesi. Though it may not be the same sort of love that I have given you, it is no less a treasure of its own. I have no intention of tarnishing it with selfish and foolish thoughts that it is not enough — any form of love from your heart is priceless, and I will guard it with my life. However many times that may be."
Now it was Daenerys' turn to look stunned, purple eyes searching over his own scar-riddled face for something. Perhaps she wanted to find pain that might prove his raw words false, or perhaps she sought confirmation of these honest words. Did his confession really surprise her so? What sort of man would discard an emerald simply because he wanted a ruby more?
"Do you know why I never loved you the way you had hoped?"
Why was she doing this to him, Jorah inwardly grieved. This was near cruelty. But he would answer her. He had to answer his Queen.
"Because...because, to my eternal shame, I betrayed you, Khaleesi," he could feel his voice tighten as he spoke of this. Jorah could not bear to meet her eyes.
"You did. The Userper promised you all you wanted in exchange for information on me. This wounded me, Ser Jorah, make no mistake. But...in time, as my anger cooled, I came to understand it. The offer was made before you knew me. And I know well that my bear prays for home. You would have been a fool to ignore his offer. And, upon witnessing my actions, you became loyal to me and rebuked the offer of finding your home. So, I ask you again: why do you think I did not fall in love with you?"
This brought Jorah to face her again, stunned and confused. But more than anything, pained. What was the purpose of this?
"I...I don't know, Your Grace. I know well I am not pleasing to look upon," he offered as a reason somewhat lacklustrely, recalling the oft-repeated words of his previous wife. "Or...perhaps you simply didn't. Must there be a reason?"
It would hurt less if there wasn't, he thought to himself meekly. Please stop this game.
Finally, Daenerys let go of his hand and got to her feet. Jorah hoped that whatever strange cruelty this was would be at an end now. He wasn't sure he wanted to know its cause or reason, for it was quite unlike anything he had seen from his Queen.
She had moved from their spot at the fireplace to look out of the window that shone opposite to the head of the war table. The setting sun emblazoned her silver hair in tones of amber and scarlet.
"I couldn't love you...because you're my knight," Daenerys admitted. "You are sworn to protect me and give your life for me. That has always been within my mind; there was always the possibility you would be killed because of me and I couldn't bear the heartache of that loss. I thought I was protecting myself. Protecting my heart," Dany turned then, the purple of her irises alight with restrained grief. "But then you did die, Ser Jorah. In my arms. And despite the shields I had placed around it, my heart broke all the same — all the more, because I had closed my eyes and turned away from the truest form of love ever offered to me. Because I could not bear to risk shattering it. And then it was gone. And all I could feel as the light left your eyes was grief. For the love I could not ever let grow. For both of our sakes."
The world seemed to pause in this moment, the colour draining in everything save for her eyes. He couldn't think. He couldn't move. He couldn't fathom what the Dragon Queen's words meant.
And for all the world, Jorah had not thought it possible for his heart to break any further.
