A/N: Prompt word: Semantics.
01x10, 'Fire and Blood'
Jorah has never been the kind of man to believe in magic. Even growing up in the superstitious north hadn't imparted these attitudes on him.
He's seen too much in the last few months to disbelieve anymore.
This compounds it all.
Three dragons, their scales rippling in the grey light of dawn.
He'd seen the magic in Daenerys from the start.
This is something else entirely.
He falls to his knees before her.
"Blood of my blood," he breathes, unable to disguise his wonder.
Today those who remained have witnessed the birth of a goddess. This will truly be her Khalasar, her loyal followers come what may.
He is the first person she approaches. Their eyes meet. She says so much in that one look. Gratefulness for him trusting her, relief that he stuck to his words, a newfound determination sparking in her eyes. She too has been born anew amongst the fire, the fourth dragon to spread her wings.
"Here," she says, holding the dragons out to him. "Hold them while I cover myself."
The first man to do so in centuries. They're tiny, all talons and teeth. They do not seem afraid to be passed into his possession, perhaps sensing that the woman who gave them life trusts him with hers.
"I dreamed I would put them in the fire and they would hatch," she says.
"A prophecy?" he wonders. Targaryens have had visions before, or so he's heard.
"I don't know." Her small fingers close around his wrist. "But thank you for not abandoning me, Jorah."
"Never," he vows. "I am sworn to you until my last breath, Khaleesi."
That dull niggling starts again, that guilt that shadows his every step. He hasn't always been loyal.
But, he tries to tell himself, that doesn't matter now. No harm came to her. He stopped that. And he will die protecting her. Was it really betrayal?
He tries telling himself that it wasn't.
That that dull niggling is only the golden dragon's claws as they dig into his forearm and slice it open, droplets of blood blooming.