Westeros had never seemed so small. In just a matter of hours, Jorah had seen nearly all of it pass under him. Lush green leaves and grasses of spring faded into frosty white and grey as the dragon rider traveled further and further north. Between his knees Rhaegal steadily flew onward, apparently sensing Jorah's urgency. The dragon hadn't slowed an iota since he taking off from King's Landing. The cold air felt good on his face. In his haste Jorah hadn't donned winter clothing, but it was exhilarating. He was of the north; Bear Island lay much further north than Winterfell, even. He was going home.
The green and black dragon pup was curled in Jorah's jerkin, pleased enough to be with him. The height didn't bother her. Occasionally she peeked out from his shirt collar and peered around sleepily before sighing and settling back in. When word from Winterfell first arrived, Jorah tried to set the dragon back in her basket but she screamed, hissed, and dug her claws into Jorah's arm. Daenerys had only watched with slight concern as Jorah hurried from the balcony in search of Rhaegal, the tiny pup clinging to his sleeve.
He imagined Drogon and Daenerys wouldn't be far behind. She'd called something after him as Rhaegal's powerful wings beat the air and lifted them skyward, but Jorah hadn't heard.
Sansa was helping Baylee wash the remaining black dye from her hair when Jorah burst through the door to Lady Stark's chambers.
"My lord," the maester's gravelly voice called after him. "I told you, the king said to bring you straight to him when you arrived! Please, my lord commander!"
"It's all right," Sansa called back, waving him off as Jorah dropped to his knees beside Baylee. "I'll take him to Jon myself. Thank you, Maester."
The maester fretted for a moment before mumbling a "m'lady" and shuffling away.
"Are you hurt?" Jorah breathed. Dark circles hung under Baylee's eyes, but otherwise she looked the image of health. He expected bruises, open wounds. The knight was somewhat surprised to find her unmaimed. Unseen injuries, invisible hurts, he reminded himself. There was a chill in the air that set goosebumps along his arms.
"I'm well, my lord," she replied coolly. "You worried that the northmen would try to woo me, so you traveled all this way? How very charming. I wondered if you might pay me a visit, but on my first day here? Well." Baylee batted her eyes in jest, then rolled them. "I've survived well enough. You didn't need to fly here."
Sansa snorted and wrung out a towel into the wash basin. Black water trickled down her wrists. "She's been a delight all day, I'll have you know," she sighed to Jorah.
"Baylee," Jorah said solemnly, his voice barely audible. "I sent you from me. You could have been killed, and our child-" He shook his head and took her hands in his. "Are you in pain?"
"No, not anymore," she confirmed nonchalantly as if he'd asked what was for dinner. "I shall have my revenge on the man who killed my baby. I remember his face." She tugged at the towel draped over her shoulders and began to squeeze a wet lock of hair. The towel came away from it black. "I'm excited to not need this disguise anymore, at least. Everyone here knows who I am, so what's the point?"
Jorah shook his head. "My lady, I'll have them all, I swear it. Each and every head shall be staked -"
Baylee turned back to him and narrowed her eyes. "Not all of these young lordlings deserve such a terrible death. Some of them are simply on the wrong side of things."
Something in her demeanor troubled him. A soft chirp in his ear distracted him from the worry. The green and black, whose name he still hadn't decided, crawled out from his shirt and was perched on his shoulder. It chirped once again when Jorah looked to it. He reached for the pup and smiled when she scuttled into his hand.
Sansa blinked in disbelief. "Daenerys let you bring a dragon here? When did she get babies?"
"I brought two dragons, actually," Jorah replied. "Rhaegal is outside. As for her? She was one of the twin eggs brought in by people Daenerys freed across the Narrow Sea. She has the sister. This one," he hesitated, "chose me."
Baylee laughed. "Chose you? As if the dragon queen would freely give her children to her queensguards." She rolled her eyes. "I've seen what happens when she has to share her men." She shot him a look. "But her dragons? I think not."
"I was the only one there when they hatched. Her sister wanted Daenerys. This one wanted nothing to do with her. She'll allow no one to touch her, save me." He stroked the dragon under the chin and she began to sing.
"Well, it seems the gods have found fit that you'll have something to raise, if not a baby," Baylee scoffed.
Only death can pay for life.
The dragon pup curled its tail around Jorah's wrist and continued its song. He watched in a stupor. The women seemed strangely cold, the dragon was surprisingly calm, and Jorah suddenly regarded them all with loathing. "No," he hissed mournfully. "No, no!" The dragonsong stopped. The green and black, sensing his rage, laid her ears flat and hissed. Sansa and Baylee tittered gleefully.
"The baby. The eggs. No." Jorah tried to take the dragon from his hand, but again, it clung to his sleeve and nipped at him when he attempted to rip it away.
"What does the baby have to do with the eggs?" Baylee asked. "You surely can't think-"
"Khaleesi. I need to speak to Khaleesi," Jorah burst, storming from the room.
All eyes snapped to Jorah when he entered the great hall. Daenerys, Tyrion, and Grey Worm had just arrived on Drogon. Jon and Bran represented Winterfell. Before the table knelt a prisoner.
"Ser Jorah," Daenerys greeted him. "How is your wife?"
"She's, she's fine," Jorah stuttered. He longed- needed – to talk to the queen about the dragons and Mirri Maz Durr's curse, but now wasn't the time. The green dragon fluttered down from his shoulder into a basket on the floor where her navy sister slept. He took his place behind the queen, mind fuzzy with emotion and disbelief. "Is this the rebel?" Jorah asked, his voice a low purr.
Remy quickly looked down. "M'lord."
"That's Lord Commander Mormont, boy," Tyrion interrupted. Jon shifted uncomfortably at the title.
"Lord Commander Mormont," Remy repeated. "Forgive me."
Jorah looked down at the young man, noting how handsome he was. He would have made someone a good husband. Now he'll meet Longclaw. A rebel though he was, the man was also naive and foolish. People had been killed for less, though, and killed because of his actions, more than likely. Jorah spoke kindly. "I understand you abandoned your men to assist my wife." His calmness caught the young soldier off guard, but Jorah continued. "Why? You know of her service to the queen in direct opposition to your rebellion."
"The Higharden spy," Remy confirmed. "I know. She was quite maddening during the war, I'm told." The young man looked Jorah square in the eye. "This is messier than I expected. I'm the son of a lord. There is no honor in those who work to overthrow Daenerys Targaryen. The festival – one of them bragged about killing a young girl and, and-" Remy shook his head. "They're monsters. I saved Lady Mormont because it was the right thing to do. Now, should I be spared the justice I know I deserve, I'll do all in my power to stop the Lannisters."
"Save but this one," Tyrion quipped. "I understand these men may be leftover Lannister bannermen, but I would prefer we call them-"
"A Lannister leads them," Remy interrupted.
"Who?" Tyrion scoffed. "They're all dead, save me."
"Tyrek Lannister. He calls himself the Lion," Remy explained.
The dwarf's face went pale. "We thought him dead." Tyrion took a long drink. "An imposter, surely." He shook his head and waved his hand, yet no color returned to his cheeks.
Remy frowned, indignant. "No. He and the blonde lady don't often join the men, but I have see him very much alive. Looks just like Jamie Lannister, but younger. And they're planning to strike the queen soon."
Jon stood suddenly, nearly upsetting the table. "You swore your service to the crown, Houses Stark and Targaryen. You will tell us everything you know. As a reward, once the rebellion is successfully dead, you'll have your freedom. I swear it. Now tell us everything there is to tell of this plot against the queen."
Hours later, Remy was still answering questions. Jorah was poring over his notes when something Remy said caught his attention and made him whip his neck up so quickly it popped. "Say that again?"
"She calls herself the Maiden Fair. You know," Remy added, "like that song, the Bear and the Maiden Fair?" The young man brushed the hair back from his eyes. "Is the blonde woman someone of interest? I know little of her, but can try to recall what I can."
Grey Worm scowled and Jon looked just as annoyed to have missed something. Tyrion, though, breathed a soft "Oh," and sat back, casting a look of pity toward the knight. "Mormont," Tyrion said slowly. "Perhaps it's not her."
The run-ins, the questions, the suspicion he had regarding Lynesse suddenly clicked. "What more of her? What does she look like? What does she wear? How does she speak?" Jorah growled. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to remain calm.
"The Maiden Fair: she's older, but beautiful. Or she was once. She speaks like a highborn, but doesn't act like one. She's quite friendly with the men. Not like ladies, you know, who keep to themselves and pretend to be so shy. She never gives orders, but none dare disrespect her or the Lion will have their tongue." Remy looked around the table anxiously. "You know her, Lord Commander?"
"Aye, I know her. I was married to her."
When the questioning finally dwindled to a close, Jorah leaned over the queen's shoulder. "I need a word."
They walked together toward their guest chambers slowly, dragons riding in their basket in the knight's arms. Jorah spoke his suspicions about the eggs and Baylee's baby, and she grimaced. "That was only in the case of Drogo. I was trying to save him. That was the blood magic. It simply could not still be affecting things." Still, she looked uneasy. "The eggs grew warm even as your child lived. We both felt them."
"As happened with your child and the first three eggs," Jorah muttered.
"An external force took your child. The dragons weren't there," Daenerys argued. Still, she sniffled and brought her fingertips to her face. "What have I done? That one choice has brought ruin to those I love." With a heavy sigh, looked into the basket in Jorah's hands. "We shall summon a maegi. We must know the truth of it. My bear, I'm so sorry."
He shook his head. "May it be you're right and it was a coincidence." Jorah looked down to the dragons. For once, the navy and green were curled up together. "It cannot be changed now." The smell of fresh baked bread rising from the kitchen cheered him somewhat. "I expected to collect my empty shell of a wife here, yet I come and find her in good spirits and learn that my former wife is perhaps key to ending the rebellion." He took a deep breath and further enjoyed the aroma. "Perhaps not all is lost, Khaleesi."
"Life will go back to normal. We'll go home. Everything will be all right," the queen promised, squeezing Jorah's hand.
"No," Jorah shook his head. "Normal, I think not. Better."