20 Years Later
Her hand on the door, the blonde woman paused. In all of the years, she still almost forgot the most important part of leaving the manse. She donned her long green scarf, careful to wind it around her face, leaving only her eyes to peek out. The wife of a wealthy merchant was an excellent target for robbery or kidnapping.
Pale face veiled, Lynesse Hightower left the safety of the house and made her way into town on foot to stroll through the market. Despite the obvious risks of going out alone, as she preferred to do, she loved being out among the people. Commotion, aromas of lamb and herb, children playing, animals bleating. Everything about it made her feel awake in her sleepy life. Families made their way through the stalls, bartering and yelling after their rambunctious kids as they weaved their way through the crowd. Sometimes it set a pang ablaze in Lynesse's chest. She had no family, save Tregar Ormollen, her husband.
A glinting of silver caught Lynesse's eye. Some young Westerosi girl with the brightest hair she'd ever seen was marking her way past curious shoppers. Andals, as the people of Essos called outlanders like herself, were rare in these parts. Dothraki guards flanked the girl, giving her a bizarre air of importance among the tribe. That wouldn't be right. Was she a prisoner? Making sure to keep her distance, Lynesse followed the posse. The young girl seemed perfectly at ease, pausing here and there to sample a food or gaze at a merchant's wares.
Lynesse was so transfixed with the woman that she ran headfirst into a man, stumbled over his foot, and landed on the dirt. "Forgive me," she stuttered as she hastily adjusted her scarf over her face.
"No, forgive me, my lady."
Lynesse's heart nearly stopped. She held her breath. That voice. Slowly, afraid of what she might see, she dragged her eyes upward, taking in the Westerosi armor and Dothraki leathers of a tall knight before her. When she reached his face, she sucked in a gasp of air, her fingers resting at her throat. Mighty and serene as ever stood Ser Jorah Mormont.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, stooping to help her back to her feet.
His hand at her elbow was too much. Lynesse stepped away and scrambled back to her feet, this time bumping into a woman carrying a large basket of bread. The woman swore and gave Lynesse a rough shove. Jorah easily caught her and held her fast to the spot. "Easy."
"Thank you, my lord." Her voice was no more than a whisper. In the years since she fled into the night, she never expected to see Jorah Mormont. She expected to be sustained by dream and memory, not the actual man in the flesh. Sparkles flashed across her vision and Lynesse swayed on the spot.
"My lady!" Jorah easily scooped her into his arms. "Are you unwell?"
"No, no, my lord. Thank you."
"I've not been called that in years." Jorah smirked as he carried her to a makeshift bench nearby. "A Westerosi woman? Here?" He pulled a flask of wine from his belt and offered it to her.
"I couldn't," Lynesse whispered.
"Drink, please." Jorah pressed it into her hand. "This heat will make even the youngest, fittest soldier weary."
Lynesse turned away and drank, certain to keep her face hidden. Her mind raced. Should she reveal herself, or hide her identity at all costs? Seeing her husband alive and well was a relief, a surprise, and a knife to her soul all at once. He had hardly changed. The years gave his wisdom on his face and the desert sun had browned his once fair skin. Hell, she thought, he looked better now than she remembered of his youth.
"What brings you to Essos?" Jorah asked.
Her heart jumped into her throat and Lynesse worried that if she spoke, she would vomit. Instead, she simply shook her head, shruggled coyly, and drank more.
"Ser Jorah? There you are." The young girl with silver hair appeared at his side. She tried to conceal a smile as she glanced at Lynesse. "I was going to return to the horde, but by all means, enjoy your day here. We could all use a break. Grey Worm will escort me back." She shrugged suggestively and turned back the direction she came.
Jorah smirked after her. "I'm coming, Khaleesi. This woman took ill in the market before me."
"Oh." The woman called Khaleesi turned back and tilted her head slightly before addressing her. "Ser Jorah is very kind. You couldn't have chosen a better man to fall ill before." With a smile that squeezed her eyes, the young woman was on her way. Two Unsullied guards fell in behind her seemingly out of thin air.
Lynesse stared after her. Was this his daughter? Concubine? Khaleesi sounded like familiar Dothraki word she might have known decades ago, but she couldn't conjure the definition. She handed the flask back and tried not to shiver when Jorah's rough hand brushed against her fair one. "Thank you."
"Are you well, my lady?" He peered at her face, but she cast her eyes away.
"Yes, my lord. Thank you for your kindness." Lynesse got carefully to her feet and lingered briefly. "I'm afraid I can't repay you."
Jorah pursed his lips in thought, then touched her shoulder. "Don't think I didn't notice you avoided my questions. If you should need anything, we're staying in a camp just outside the city gate. You can't miss it. Ask for the Andal. They'll know who you're looking for." He released her and held her gaze before finally clearing his throat and looking back into the marketplace crowd. It was easy to spot the woman's silver hair. "Queen Daenerys is freeing slaves and breaking chains," Jorah continued. "No man needs to live in fear of a master." With that, he turned and followed the young queen. "The Andal," he called over his shoulder.
Home in Tregar Ormollen's obnoxiously elegant manse, Lynesse stared at herself in her dressing mirror. Not a day passed when she didn't think of Jorah Mormont. He pulled her from the sea when her entire house perished in a shipwreck. He wed her and bedded her underneath the northern stars. He trusted her and allowed her to learn and grow to love the rugged women and men of House Mormont. To repay him, she ran off in the middle of the night and seduced her way into Tregar's home as his wife.
Marriage meant something different in Essos. A Westerosi wife was a status symbol here. Tregar had little actual interest in her besides using her to show off his standing in the country. He had money and concubines as well as homes in several cities. Lynesse was mostly left alone unless he wanted to impress a potential buyer. Tregar paraded her out in a fine gown, revealing or not, depending on the clientele. Sometimes more humiliating things were asked of her. As a woman alone in a foreign country, she always obeyed. It was a small price to pay for her safety.
Tregar was due home in a week's time. That wasn't strange, but the abrupt appearance of her first husband colored everything differently. Her reflection was suddenly different than the woman who had looked back at her for the majority of her adult life.
The guards outside the massive Dothraki style camp just outside the city drew their spears and snarled at her as Lynesse approached. She dismounted and walked slowly toward the soldiers, the reins loose in her hands and her light brown mare lazily following alongside her.
"You bring gift? For Khaleesi?" one of the guards barked, reaching a hand out to the reins.
"Oh, no. No." Lynesse held them tighter and reached back to stroke the horse's nose. "She's mine. Sorry."
The guard grunted and drew back. Small bells in his hair tinkled as he moved.
"I met the queen – Khaleesi - in the market earlier," she explained slowly. "Might I see her?" Lynesse dropped her scarf to reveal her pale face. "She's of Westeros, like me."
The guard frowned. "You see Khaleesi?"
"Yes!" She nodded. "Please."
The guards muttered to each other, then one of them disappeared for a moment and returned with a handmaiden.
The girl, perhaps the same age as the queen, had a kind smile. Her warmth stood in stark contrast to the rugged disinterest of the guards. "My lady. You wish to see Her Grace Daenerys Targaryen? Might I ask your purpose?"
Lynesse paused. It was a fair question, and one she didn't have an answer to. "Erm, I suppose I just had something I wanted to ask her."
"Ah." The handmaiden nodded, a practiced expression on her face. So this wasn't the first time a commoner had come to the camp looking for the queen. She clapsed her hands together. "I can certainly pass her a message, if you're like. Her Grace Queen Daenerys isn't seeing anyone this evening."
Her throat tight, Lynesse nodded. It was now or never. "The Andal, then?"
"Ser Jorah?" The handmaid's eyebrow quirked upward. "You must be the woman he met in the market. The queen did mention that. I can bring you to him. Who shall I say is here to call upon him?"
Her throat dry, Lynesse swallowed hard. "He didn't know my name. The Westerosi woman from the market will have to do." She replaced her scarf. Would she reveal herself to him? She still couldn't decide. It didn't matter. She had to see him. Another lifetime could pass, she reminded herself. It's now or never.
Jorah was washing his chest and arms in a basin when the handmaiden led Lynesse through the flap of his tent. Lynesse covered her mouth at the sight. Tregar was her age, but he looked like a fat old man. Truthfully, she doubted whether he'd ever been in physical shape. And here was Jorah, fit enough that Lynesse was certain he could still toss it up with the best and youngest of them. Certainly that was why he was serving the young queen. No one ever hired a tired, spent bodyguard.
The handmaiden cleared her throat and gestured to Lynesse. "Ser Jorah, you have a visitor from the village. The Westerosi woman would like to speak with you."
His brows raised in surprise, Jorah bowed briefly. "My lady." He quickly donned his shirt and dried his hands. "Thank you, Missandei."
The maid looked between the pair before turning and pushing the tent flap back out of her way and leaving them alone. Lynesse had suddenly never felt so uncertain of anything.
"My lady," Jorah said cordially. "I'm pleased to see you. How is it Daenerys Targaryen may serve you?" He sat and gestured to a wooden crate across from him at a makeshift table on a trunk. He poured himself a glass of wine and another for her. "Forgive the accommodations. Her Grace cannot afford to stay in one place for long. There's much work to be done."
Lynesse sat and folded her hands in her lap. Her tongue was a thousand pounds, pinned down and impossible to move to speak. She swallowed, though there was no spittle to moisten her mouth. A desperate cough popped from her lips and she covered her mouth, making sure the scarf was still in place.
"Please," Jorah scoffed. "You're in no danger here. I promise no harm will come to you under my care."
"I know," Lynesse breathed. "That's why I'm here."
Jorah's eyes flickered to hers. He held her gaze for a moment. It darkened when he spoke. "The veil was clever, but did you think I wouldn't know the gaze of my own wife?"
Relief rushing back into her chest, Lynesse slowly pulled her scarf away. When it hung loosely around her neck, she took a deep breath and steeled herself.
Jorah drank in her features, eyes scanning rapidly over her face. He set his cup down heavily. "Why did you seek me out?" There was no reading the expression on his face.
"I didn't. I saw you at the market completely by accident. When I went home I couldn't stop thinking about all the things I should have said."
Jorah drained his wine and poured another before topping her glass off. "What is it you have to say?"
His utter disdain was chilling. Lynesse didn't know what to expect, but it was never this. "I'm glad you're well. You look as handsome as ever. Moreso than when last I saw you."
"When was the last time you saw me?" he asked. "Was it the night you left me? Did you even look at me, or did you just flee the moment I was asleep?" His voice had a razor sharp edge to it she'd never heard.
"I didn't want to leave. Maybe that's why I came. I can explain everything." Lynesse traced the rim of her glass a few times. "An old crone in the market-"
Jorah cut her off. "Either you're here for Daenerys's help or you're going back to your husband. I have no use for your tales." He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Which is it?"
Tears stinging her eyes, Lynesse stumbled to her feet. "I shouldn't have come. I'm sorry." Sobs were threatening to shake free of the stranglehold in her chest she had managed. Quickly wrapping her scarf over her face, she stumbled out of the tent and ran headlong into a guard. Her face crunched into his chest and she held her nose as stars twinkled in her eyes.
"She come to us! No have to look," the guard chuckled, grabbing her before she could fall. He heaved her up and looked into her face. "Andal lady. You see Khaleesi now. Come."
Lynesse blinked up at each of the guards, one at each arm. "I don't need to see her. I just want to go home."
"You see Khaleesi."
Daenerys Targaryen was sitting on a large pouf on the floor with three dog sized dragons when the guards led Lynesse in.
"So this is the Westerosi woman who came looking for Ser Jorah." She smiled and patted a pouf beside hers. "Come, sit."
Lynesse sniffled and quickly recovered. "Of course, Your Grace."
"Tell me your story, Lynesse Hightower." The young queen stroked one of the dragon's long necks, then focused her attention on her. "I want to know what brings you here to the middle of Essos. How did you come to know Ser Jorah?"
Nothing to lose, Lynesse offered the slightest shrug. "Do you believe in maegi, Khaleesi?"
"Yes." Daenerys pursed her lips for a moment, then nodded. "I wish I didn't believe in their power, but I do. An old crone cursed me. She killed my baby and my husband, then swore I'd never have children of my own." She glanced toward the balcony. "But I have my dragons. So she was wrong."
Lynesse's heart leapt. "Then you'll understand." She reached out and took the girl's hand. "An old fortune teller woman told me if I stayed with Jorah, he would die. She was terrified of me. I can still hear her screams. She said there was a darkness with me." When Daenerys nodded solemnly, her eyes wide, Lynesse continued. "My entire house died in a shipwreck. It was Jorah who pulled me from the sea. Things were wonderful for a time, but then we fell under the scrutiny of King Robert. Jorah was nearly killed by a bear. We were exiled to Essos. His man was killed right in front of me." Her heart was pounding, but the young queen was listening intently. "That was the day the crone told me something even more terrible would befall him if I stayed. I had to leave him. It was the only way. Leaving him was the only way I could save him. When I saw him in the market, after all these years I thought I might be able to explain it all to him."
"I believe you." Daenerys frowned. "I don't know that Ser Jorah will. He believes only what he can see."
"So he hasn't changed." Lynesse nodded. "After all this time, I saw him and I needed him to know."
"Rhollo," Daenerys called toward the tent flap. "Bring Ser Jorah. Please."
The guard nodded and disapperaed silently into the camp.
"Come. I was about to take a bath when I heard you were here, but you see to be more in need of it than me." Daenerys stood and offered a hand to Lynesse. "It's the least I can offer you."
A bit taken aback, Lynesse nodded and slowly removed her scarf. "That's very kind, Your Grace." A team of handmaidens appeared and helped Lynesse undress and get into the bath. The water smelled of some exotic oil she'd never experienced. The fragrance raised through the tent and Lynesse briefly wondered if there was some sorcery at work to suddenly make her feel so at ease.
Daenerys rested on the edge of the tub and Lynesse jumped in surprise. Water sloshed into her face. There was nothing like a perky young beauty to remind someone of their wrinkles and sags.
"I thought we might continue to talk," Daenerys said. "Forgive me. I'm so used to my ladies mulling about as I bathe, I didn't think you might want privacy."
"No," Lynesse said, unfolding her arms. "Of course, my lady. Khaleesi," she quickly corrected herself. "Forgive me. It's been some time since I've been among lords and ladies, let along royalty."
"What was Ser Jorah like when he was young?"
Lynesse smiled. "Brave. Noble. The same as now, perhaps a bit more sure of himself. Cocky." The tent flap opened and Lynesse flailed to cover herself once again.
"Your Grace? Grey Worm found someone in the village who-" Jorah's gaze fell on Lynesse. He trailed off, then cleared his throat and turned his eyes away. "Forgive me."
The queen smiled. "No. I sent for you. I didn't think you'd be by so quickly." She stood. "I thought we could use the knowledge Lady Hightower would have of Essos."
"Khaleesi," Jorah growled as the young girl flitted away, a wicked smile upon her face as she breezed past him and out the tent, her handmaids at her back. Jorah turned his back to the flap, then glanced briefly over his shoulder. "An audience with the queen?"
"The guards brought me here and she drew a bath," Lynesse explained lamely. "I meant to go home."
"Where is your husband?" He spat the last word with disdain.
His tone wounded her. "With a concubine," she replied. "I'm not sure which one. He won't be missing me."
Jorah slowly turned back to face her. "This is the life you wanted so desperately?"
"You don't understand."
"No," he spat. "I don't!"
"A maegi-"
"Maegi prey on weaknesses of the naive," Jorah cut her off. "They give us curses and stories to explain that which we can't accept, my lady." He took a deep, slow breath. "I've seen things that I can't explain and I've also seen those magic women spin tales to scare young girls into giving them another coin for another fortune the next week."
"I'm not a young girl," Lynesse chuckled darkly. "And I've never been naive."
"You were young when I knew you." Jorah took a few steps toward her, then leaned against the tub, facing the door. He angled his head slightly so that his voice carried toward her. "I'd do it again, you know? Going home to win you back. I sold poachers into slavery, built up my coin. I thought if I could recreate the comforts of Oldtown on Bear Island, you might come back."
"You didn't need to. I didn't want to leave."
"But you did," Jorah said gruffly as he turned to face her, "without a word. I thought you'd been killed. Kidnapped. Raped and left in a gutter. I went mad. You know how dangerous Essos is for a woman alone, especially a Westerosi woman."
She sucked in a breath and recoiled. Breasts heaving as she tried to steady her breath, Lynesse spoke slowly and calmly as she could manage. "I haven't stopped thinking of you. All these years. When I saw you in the market, I tried to go about my day but I ended up here. It was like something was pulling me here."
"I thought of you," Jorah said, facing away from her again. "What would I say if I say my wife again? Oh yes," he added. "We're still married, by Westerosi law. I could kill Tregar Ormollen with honor."
The steaming in the water tub suddenly felt cool. "He isn't a bad man," Lynesse said quietly. "He took me in."
"He took another man's wife! You're no better than a whore."
There it was, Lynesse thought. The honor Jorah so fiercely lived by. "Then slit my wrists. Run me through. Give me the punishment I deserve. We know what happens to delinquent wives in Essos." She thrust forward and grabbed his arm. "If I have wronged you for so long, please deliver the justice I am owed!"
Water splashed over the side and onto Jorah's clothes. He turned and finally beheld her, unabashedly taking in her body. They stood in silence, staring at one another. When the moment lingered, Lynesse felt foolish. It had been years since he had last seen her. Now she had the body of an old woman. The breeze sent goosebumps over her skin. The chill was uncomfortable. She gingerly covered her breasts.
"I can't kill a naked woman in her bath." He narrowed his eyes, then reached out. "What did he do to you?" His fingers grazed a spot just below her breast.
Lynesse spun away. More water sloshed over the side of the tub. "Nothing."
"He branded you?" Jorah caught her arm and forced it away from her side. The raised scars read OT. He traced them with his thumb. It brushed idly against her breast. "Rumors said you were well cared for. A spoiled Westerosi wife of a merchant. I believed that." His voice was nothing more than a whisper. "That's why I could exist in Essos and not hunt you down."
"I live in a manse and have never gone hungry. I have beautiful gowns and hand maids and-"
"Ness."
The nickname made her chest ache. "I'm lucky."
He took a step around the tub and paused. She felt his gaze on her back. There, long white scars ran from the small of her back to her buttocks. "Lashings?" Jorah stepped around the tub and met her face to face once more. "Perhaps I'll kill him after all."
Lynesse's heart thumped out of time. "Please. If you kill him, I'll-"
"Have you ever received a kind touch by his hand?"
"You don't have to go on a knightly crusade for me. I don't deserve your kindness. Please. I only wanted… I don't know what I wanted. To see you. To know that your life has been worth it."
"And you've begged me to kill you." Jorah stood with his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. "I still love you. I couldn't lift a finger against you. The man who did this to you? That's another story."
"You can't! You can't just upset my entire life."
"Why? You did it to me." There was no malice in Jorah's face. "Besides, you'd be better off without him. You'll be free. You'll inherit your manse. Throw out the concubines. Live in comfort."
"What about you?"
"What about me?"
"Jorah," she sighed. "I'm too old for these games. Either the maegi was right and I'll only bring you trouble, or I was naive and foolish. Only one of us is right about that." She drew in a breath and made up her mind. "You either let me go back to Tregar or you kill him and take me with you."
Jorah thought for a moment, gripping the tub until his knuckles turned white. "All right," he said softly. "Tell me where he is."