A/N: Prompt: Haze.
03x05, 'Kissed by Fire'
Jorah can't sleep. It's too hot, and the dust of the desert land gets into his lungs, making his throat dry. He reaches across for his skin of water to find that it's empty.
Pushing sweat-soaked hair back, he grabs his shirt and throws it on.
The camp is silent now but for the snorting of horses; the shimmering of smoke from dying campfires and the occasional soldier on watch duty is all there is.
When he reaches their supply train he is surprised to find he isn't the only one there.
Daenerys.
She seems almost a mirage through the mist of his tired eyes, the flash of her silver hair ethereal.
She turns to look at him. "Jorah. What are you doing here?"
He holds up his skin. "The same thing you are, I suspect."
She smiles at that, moving aside to let him fill his own. "I can't sleep."
Jorah takes a swig of his water before answering. It's lukewarm, but better than nothing. "I thought we'd find you curled up like a dragon in a hot spring cave."
She giggles at that.
"Is there any reason why?"
"I suppose I'm still absorbing it all," she says, casting her hand around her. "That this is reality now."
"Well, it is. You should be proud of yourself."
"I am." She looks up at him, so unguarded in this moment, and he is struck again by how young she is, how she had spent her formative years in the shadow of that snake Viserys, taking his shit. Believing those vile words he spat at her.
How far she's come in such a short space of time. How privileged he is to have seen her growth, to serve this woman.
In the morning he'll blame that surge of affection on the haze of sleep, his heart fluttering on the unguarded smile meant for him alone. But the truth of the matter is that she disarms him so effortlessly, obliterating the wall he'd built around his heart and leaving him to pick through the rubble.
He wouldn't have it any other way.