Author Note: I have found my people! I'm so glad there are other Jorah fans out there!
Sorry for the updates slowing down and this one being so short- I'm actually marrying my own Ser Jorah next weekend and have been a bit busy. (:
The Festival of the Narrow Sea drew thousands to the city center. People of every size and color milled past each other, exchanging curious glances. Children laughed and exotic animals called out. The people of the capital took it all in in awe. Seeing the dragons had been one thing, but now to have the rest of the world at their back door? It was more than any of them had hoped for.
Daenerys watched out her window, thrilled as Missandei finished braiding her hair and Jorah lingered at the doorway. Noise floated up to her; the crowd roaring joyfully in twenty or more different languages.
"You said I could unite the world," she exclaimed with wonder. "I was a girl. I didn't believe you. But we did." She glanced back to him. "My bear, how I should have never doubted you."
Jorah offered a lopsided smile. "None should have doubted you, Khaleesi."
"Am I interrupting?" a gruff voice came.
Jorah moved aside as Jon Snow looked into the room. "Jon. Of course not." Behind him, Daenerys and Missandei exchanged grins. Respect and custom be damned; the queen was the only one Jorah called your grace.
To be fair, Jon pushed off most titles, anyway; remaining Jon Snow although his true identity was Aegon Targaryen. "It keeps me in the gray where I prefer it," he explained. "I'm a Stark, I'm a Targaryen. I've been dead. I'm alive. I'm from the North, I've traveled south. I'm tired of black and white. I'd rather be Jon Snow."
Now wearing Targaryen red and Stark grey, Jon bowed slightly as Missandei finished the queen's hair and bid her a good time at the festival. "Might I escort my queen to the opening ceremonies?" he asked brusquely.
Daenerys glanced at Jorah. He nodded back to her. Jon Snow, though her nephew, was a good man. If he could get back on the queen's good graces, Jorah would support them wholeheartedly. Jon was young, and perhaps there was still a chance yet for them to conceive a child together, if they both wanted.
"I was hoping you'd want that," Daenerys answered with a coy smile. "Let's start this festival over, shall we? I really am pleased you're here. Forgive my harsh tongue yesterday. I was cruel. It has been a trying time. The princess is a reminder of the children I haven't yet had. And I'm certain you've been briefed on the Lannister rebellion threat. Two of their men were in the palace and tried to kill Lady Baylee."
"Is she all right?" Jon exclaimed, spinning back to the queensguard. "You didn' say anythin' yesterday. Why?"
"She's fine and her attackers dead," Jorah shrugged. "My men and the city watch have a close eye on the festivals. We've doubled the guard. With your men, it will be more than enough." When doubt crept up and his mind conjured lovely Baylee's face scared and screaming at the hand of rebels, he smashed it down. I've done all I can do. It will have to be enough.
"Why did they mean to kill your wife? Baylee, isn't it? Why should someone care about the queensguard lord commander's wife?" Jon looked to Daenerys, then squinted back at Jorah. "Why did no one send a raven?"
Jorah opened his mouth to speak, but the queen cut him off.
"Because I foolishly put her at risk," she said with very real remorse. "You'll remember my Highgarden informant? I wasn't certain I could trust Varys, so I recruited my own little bird. She was good, very good during the war." She sighed and turned to adjust her dress in a heavy, ornate mirror, careful not to catch eye contact with either of the men. The lavender fabric fell gracefully down her body; she knew she was as beautiful as the day she took the Seven Kingdoms. Staring hard into her own reflection, she continued, "Should anything happen to Lady Baylee, it would be my fault."
"You sent a lady of the court to Oldtown to spy on known rebels." Jon blinked, clearly bothered. "I can't disagree with you there, Your Grace. If a rebel gets to her, it's no one's fault but your own." He grimaced back at Jorah. "Feel free to escort your wife. I'll be with Daenerys and the rest of your men."
The idea was a relief, but Jorah shook his head. "My place is with the queen, regardless of who escorts her. Having the two of you together makes her even more of a target."
A flicker of an old rivalry passed Jon's face, but he nodded. "You're right. Lady Baylee will accompany us, then. Your place is by the queen but it's also your duty to keep your wife safe. So do both. That's a command," he added sternly.
Though Ned Stark wasn't Jon's true father, he sure instilled his values in the future king, Jorah thought. The king's sense of loyalty at any cost rubbed Jorah the wrong way, and he couldn't say why. "I'm only sworn to obey my queen," he replied brusquely.
Daenerys was smiling kindly. "We'll wait here for you. Fetch Lady Baylee. She'll be my guest."
Baylee lingered at Jorah's side in the queen's tent on the raised platform in the arena. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword; hers on his forearm. Dothraki queensguards surrounded them. Their white furs flapped lightly in the breeze. Only Jorah in his black and red armor was stationed on the platform with the king and queen.
When Baylee shifted so that she was more nestled in Jorah's side, he looked down at her. "Are you frightened, my lady? There's no safer place for you to be."
"Lady Baylee, come, sit by me," Daenerys said, motioning to the chair beside her. Jon sat on the other side of the queen, and Sansa on the other side of him. "You don't have to stand the whole time. I've told your husband a million times that he doesn't need to, either, but you can't teach an old knight new tricks." She laughed.
"Your queensguard should be standing at your side," Jon said disinterestedly. "It's an honor."
"Mmm, what is that smell?" Daenerys suddenly piped. Her lilac eyes sparkled. "Oh, those sweet sausages!" She grabbed Jon's hand. "Can you smell that? I had them as a child. When is the next act? Do I have a moment?"
Laughing, Jon shook his head. "You're the bloody queen. They'll wait for you." He looked back to Jorah and rolled his eyes in mock exasperation.
"Come!" Daenerys exclaimed, grabbing Baylee by the wrist and pulling her down the stairs. "Come, come, come. You've probably never had them, have you? They're from Essos. They're sweet, but spicy, or maybe salty? They're delicious and you'll have to try one. You've never had a sausage like this." The silk of her dress billowed out behind her as she bounded down off of the platform, as giddy as a child. Baylee laughed and followed behind. The ladies' brightly colored gowns were easy to spot in the crowd full of vendors and commoners.
Jorah followed behind them, his long legs easily matching the women's quick strides. Javo, a queen's bloodrider, also stalked after as the women strolled into the crowd.
"I used to eat there with my brother," Daenerys said. She turned to Baylee. "Do you have siblings? Or, did you?"
Baylee shook her head. "A few babes who died in childbirth were my only siblings. I was destined to be all my parents had. As you know, father died in war, and mother died of a plague that blew through."
"And now you have your lord husband," Daenerys smiled. "And all of the members of my queensguard, I imagine? I've heard tales that the lord's wife often ends up looking after the lot of them." She grimaced. "The Dothraki can be a bit much the first time you welcome them into your home, but Ser Jorah has plenty of experience with their culture."
Someone crashed into Baylee, sending her stumbling into the queen. "Hey!" she snapped.
Javo appeared out of nowhere, arakh drawn and scowl on his face. Jorah stepped forward, gently pulling Daenerys behind him. Baylee had recovered her footing and was glaring with her hands on her hips. When the aggressor turned around, Jorah's stomach churned. Lynesse.
"Well, fancy seeing you here," she chimed cheerily. "Twice in a week? Lucky me. Look at you, all done up in Targaryen colors. Quite handsome. Much better than that ugly bear you used to wear."
Lynesse was wearing a whore's dress; cleavage spilling out to the point of bursting. There was no doubt why she was attending the festival. Jorah averted his eyes. The woman was cruel and broke his heart, but she was certainly still pleasing to the eyes. Why she was whoring instead of attending to her lover Tregar Ormollen was beyond him.
"The queen is coming through. Move," he barked.
"Such authority," Lynesse giggled. She nodded to Baylee. "I'm certain you enjoy the spoils when that pent-up anger gets released, aye?" She winked. "I remember those nights. I remember them well. Anyway, where's your other lady? Sansa Stark keeping company with the likes of a Mormont!" Lynesse turned to one of her servants. "Wasn't it the Starks who chased us across the Narrow Sea?"
"And this is?" Daenerys asked Baylee as she gently pushed past Jorah.
"Lynesse Mormont, formerly," the concubine announced in a sing-song voice. "Of House Hightower. I now spend my days in Lys with a rich merchant." She sighed happily. "Back in the luxurious kind of life a Hightower deserves. It takes having nothing to truly appreciate having everything." She offered a sad smirk to Jorah.
Baylee's fingers curled into fists, but the queen jumped in before she could reply. "A Hightower?" Daenerys repeated, ignoring her jab at Jorah. "Loyal to the Tyrells and the Baratheons, as I understand. Things have surely changed since the last time you were in Westeros," Daenerys replied coolly.
"I'm quite surprised that no one has taken your general's head off. A pity, that would be," Lynesse purred, reaching up to trace her finger along his jaw. Her nose wrinkled as she smiled at the feel of his whiskers against her skin again. "All that brawn and metal, but I'm afraid your Lord Commander is hardly fearsome, Your Grace."
"Does this whore bother you?" Javo snarled. He looked Lynesse up and down and shook his head in disgust. "I cut out her insides."
Lynesse's breath caught in her chest and her breasts heaved, but she did not move away. Daenerys raised a hand and Javo lowered his blade.
The queen's dark eyebrow quirked. "You seem to think you're quite familiar with Ser Jorah. All I know about you, is that you're the wife who left him after you spent all his gold. In all my years with Ser Jorah by my side, I've neither seen nor heard about you since I granted that annulment long ago."
Baylee glanced to Jorah. His face was absolute disinterest. He glanced back at her and wondered what she was thinking. Don't compare yourself to her, he thought desperately.
"Attending the dances today, Your Grace?" Lynesse changed the subject. "You'll see some of my girls, if you do."
"I am," Daenerys replied. "And I've seen enough of your girls as it is. Come, we should get our food and be back for the show. We'll miss the rest of the festival if we stop and chat with every whore we see." With that, the queen strode away from the wench without so much as a second look.
Jorah followed in amused disbelief. The ladies strutted away in seek of the sweet sausages, tossing their hair over the shoulders and turning their noses upward.
Beside him, Javo was scowling. "Next time, I gut the pig. Your men here are too weak. She leave her alive with no punishment, she next time will talk like that again to great khaleesi." He spat into the dirt.
"Jorah," Lynesse called after them.
"Ignore her," Baylee snarled, reaching back and taking his arm.
"She's not worth a moment more of your time, Ser Jorah," Daenerys added.
Jorah heeded their advice. Striding away from the wretch, his head held high and with two fierce women in his care, Jorah Mormont knew life had turned out in his favor.