The men forced Jorah to his knees. A firm hand on the back of his neck shoved his head down until his forehead was touching the stone floor. He heard the door lock and then silence. He had no idea where he was. He was still hooded and shackled, as he had been when they had taken him from the dungeon in Astapor. They had shoved him into a cramped wooden box that smelt of camphor and something else more vile, then loaded it on a cart, that had been driven over rough roads for several days in stifling heat. He expected that Varys was going to sell him to the slavers who supplied the various fighting pits in Essos.
Jorah knew there was no way out of his situation for him. He had been defeated by his own poor choices, yet again. He wasn't a deceitful or bad man, nor was he a stupid man, but he had too often given in to emotion rather than let commonsense guide him.
He had decided, after the shock and anger at his exile had past, that he would find a way to prove his loyalty to Danerys and never again let his heart rule his head. He loved her, but he knew she would never love an old man like him, especially when she could have her choice of handsome young men. Jorah just had to accept that and get on with his life. He would find a way to help her find the army she needed to take Westeros and if that gained him her pardon that that would be fine, but if not, at least he would know he had done something in his wasted life to be proud of.
Then he'd run into Varys and now it seemed likely he'd die in shackles somewhere away from his beloved Queen, the home of his heart. He had known for a long time that he would ever see Bear Island again, despite Dany's promise that she would take him there herself. He knew that even if he did make it there, one of the fierce women of his family would more than likely put a sword through his belly as punishment for disgracing the family.
Now kneeling on the floor he was expecting that the next thing he would feel would the executioners blade, but it did not happen. Actually nothing happened. He appeared to be alone in the room. He couldn't hear anyone, and the hood prevented him seeing anything. So he waited. He sat up, the prone position the guards had left him in hurt his bruised ribs. His knees were aching but he didn't dare move much further, as it was his guards would probably give him another beating for moving as much as he had, when they returned.
It seemed like an eternity before the door was opened and footsteps echoed in the room. He heard the door close and someone untied the rope holding the bag over his head. When they dragged the bag off, the light stabbed into his eyes painfully. After being in the dark for so long, his vision was blurry and tears ran from his burning eyes.
He heard a woman gasp and a man curse quietly. Someone mercifully closed the shutters on the windows in the room. Jorah groaned in relief.
"Ser Jorah?" The man asked. Jorah recognised the voice as Ser Barristan Selmy. He blinked blurrily and looked over towards where the voice had come from. Jorah nodded.
"Would you have a healer fetched please Ser Barristan." Dany asked.
"At once." He responded and headed to the door.
"And a blacksmith to remove these chains." She added. "Have someone fetch some water."
Jorah could hear Selmy's boots as he strode off down the corridor. He kept his watering eyes glued to the floor. He could not look at Dany.
She did not speak to him and stayed on the other side of the room. Jorah hadn't expected she would run to him but he hadn't expected her distance. That hurt more than any of his injuries.
Missandei appeared after a short while carrying a basin of warm water and a water skin. She looked once to Danerys and then knelt next to Jorah. Tenderly she turned his face towards her and she wiped at the filth that covered it. She gave him a smile and offered him the water skin. It hurt to swallow but her drank deeply.
"Better?" She asked quietly taking the skin from him.
Jorah nodded his thanks, and she continued to carefully dab at his bruised and bloodied face. She kept working until the smith arrived to remove the shackles.
The pounding of the hammer against the metal of the cuffs, throbbed up through his shoulders and scrapped more skin from his already raw wrists. When the smith left, Missandei bathed his hands and wrists. She smoothed healing salves on the raw skin and then wrapped them in soft linen bandages. After another tender smile she stood and picked up the basin.
She looked to Dany who was still standing against the far wall.
"Thank you, you may leave us." She dismissed her handmaiden.
Jorah looked up and gave Missandei a weak smile.
"Thank you." He managed to croak out, as she bowed her head and hurried out of the room.
Dany was staring at him when Ser Barristan arrived with the healer. They helped him to stand and led him from the room. Dany still had not said a word to him.
