I'm not thrilled with this chapter, but it had to happen so the plot could move along. You'll notice that it's also my first divergence from Dany's POV. It feels important to me that we not know what's going on in her head for the next couple of chapters. There's also reference to what I consider some of the only redeemable dialogue in Season 8.

I promise more Dany/Jorah content in the next chapter- so just bear with me.

As always, I don't own Game of Thrones.

CHAPTER 4

JORAH

"Your Grace," Tyrion swayed slightly as he stood from his chair. "I apologize for my appearance. I wasn't expecting company." His hair was oily, his beard unkempt, and his clothes stale. Ink stained his fingers, as the various plans to rebuild the city decorated the floor below their feet. Standing in the middle of his chambers, Tyrion Lannister looked smaller and more withered than Jorah remembered him. They had seen relatively little of each other since Jorah's arrival in King's Landing. Tyrion had spent his time with Ser Jaime while Jorah had seen to their Queen. However, it was Tyrion who seemed the least surprised when Jorah appeared in the Red Keep on the day of the siege, stating that not even death could keep the man from protecting his queen.

"Mormont," Tyrion nodded warmly.

"Tyrion." He wanted to say more to the shriveled man in front of him, but this meeting was not for them. He looked to Daenerys and waited for her to speak.

As she took in Tyrion's disheveled appearance, a look of pity passed over her features. "I'm sorry for coming so late. I know you probably want some time alone," she said gently.

A tired smile came to Tyrion's face, "Not at all. I welcome the distraction; I've never been one for being alone with my thoughts." He gave a half-hearted wave towards the papers that littered the room.

"So I've heard." She smiled lightly and glanced back at Jorah.

Jorah knelt beside her, "I will be just outside if you need me."

She reached out to touch his hand, "Thank you. I will call when I am ready to return to my chamber." Tyrion had not missed the gesture and Jorah flushed as he stood. He moved behind Daenerys, giving Tyrion a warning look that said 'do not push her' before leaving the room.

As he stood guarding the door, he caught whispers of their conversation:

"I'm sorry about Ser Jaime. The Seven Kingdoms owe him a great debt."

"Yes, from King Slayer to Queen Slayer. What a legacy… My entire life, Jaime was the only one who saw me as more than I was. He saved my life more times than I deserved."

"Then I owe him another debt."

"I find it hard to believe that Mormont let you escape your sickbed to offer me sympathy. What can I do for you, Your Grace?"

There was a long pause.

"Jon showed me the letter from Varys. I need to know the truth."

Jorah was worried about her and wanted to hear what was said, but his honor prevented him from eavesdropping on his Queen and her Hand. He moved further down the hall to give them their privacy.

He had begged her to rest. She was feverish after a long day of too many truths. She needed sleep, but she insisted on speaking with Tyrion right away. Jorah hoped that he would put her mind at ease.

She was still healing from her fall, and whatever Varys had been slipping her for Gods know how long- but those were just the injuries to her body. What really worried him were the scars he could not see. The wounds she'd been nursing most of her life; the trauma of the deaths that came too quickly, the grief she had yet to face, the sacrifices, the betrayals, the mistakes she had made in her ambition, and the unknown of what was yet to come.

He had died protecting her, and he would do it again if need be. Even if that meant protecting her from herself.

Jorah sat quietly on the stone steps at the end of the corridor, the door to Tyrion's chamber never out of his sight.

TYRION

"I thought he might try to harm you if given the opportunity. It is why I turned him in." Truth be told, Tyrion still missed his oldest friend. He knew he shouldn't. The man had committed treason; he had threatened their queen. But still, Tyrion was sorry he had died a traitor.

"But you don't believe Varys poisoned me?" She seemed agitated, as one might expect.

"I cannot say, Your Grace. Not with any certainty. I wish I could. Simple answers make for clean endings. But life is rarely so accommodating." She had told him of her thoughts during the siege. Poison was possible, he supposed, but no one could ever be sure. Varys was dead, and any proof they could hope for was gone with him. To Tyrion's mind, it didn't really matter. All rulers had bloody impulses, yet she had been able to deny hers when it mattered most.

"When Bran Stark sent Jorah to King's Landing he said something beyond my control was turning my thoughts. How can I rule if I cannot trust my own mind?"

"Maybe it's not so literal?" Tyrion was tired of prophecies and cryptic messages. All that talk of princes who were promised and flaming swords; none of it had mattered when Arya Stark plunged a dagger into the Night King. "I think, perhaps, profound grief is a form of madness that changes us all; making us unrecognizable even to ourselves. You were surrounded by men who could not see your grief for what it was. That was our failing, not yours."

"What if I hadn't heard Jorah in the crowd? What if I hadn't stopped?"

He did not think it was insignificant that a boy who could see the distant past and infinite futures, decided it was more prudent to bring Mormont back from the dead rather than send a raven to the living members of her council. She needed the man…perhaps more than she realized.

"Whatever you might have done, Your Grace, it is not what you did. I don't know if you were poisoned, and don't believe you are mad. You are simply human, for better or worse. And we humans are all capable of great good and terrible evil. Perhaps the Gods flip a coin for all of us, and we must decide where it lands."

"What do you mean?"

"Well...what is it that defines us? What is it that unites us? It is not our titles, our house words, our banners, or our ambitions... it is how we use them. It is our stories. It is the stories that mothers will tell their children centuries from now. That is our legacy, not the mistakes we almost made."

"And what is my story? The Dragon Queen of fire and blood? The Mad King's daughter?"

"Before you were the Dragon Queen, you were an exiled orphan girl on the other side of the world. You came from nothing and became a Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Mother of Dragons, the Breaker of Chains, on and on. You convinced men to follow you into battle. The Unsullied, the Dothraki; they followed you, not your dragons. An orphan, a warrior, a conqueror, a liberator, and a Queen. That is your story. That is what you must hold on to."

"What of Jon's story? A bastard from Winterfell, the heir to two great houses, a sworn brother of the Night's Watch, a soldier, The King in the North. He is 'The shield that guards the realms of men.' And he is a man. Whether he wants it or not, as long as Jon lives, he will have the better claim. He is the natural choice for the people of Westeros. He is one of them. They trust him. When they look at me they see the Mad King, but when they look at Jon, they see Eddard Stark. They love him."

"They will learn to love you in time." There in her wheelchair with her silver hair falling loosely around her face, Tyrion realized perhaps for the first time how small she was. The Silver Queen who walked into flame and emerged with three baby dragons was the tiny young woman in front of him. How could they not love her?

"Should they?" She seemed to be asking herself.

"Your Grace?" She was quiet for a long moment. When she finally looked at him, it was as if she had forgotten he was in the room.

"I want you to send a raven to the heads of greatest remaining houses in the nine provinces of the Seven Kingdoms. Tell them their Queen requests their presence in King's Landing…And Tyrion, make sure Bran Stark comes as well."

The next chapter will probably be short like this one, but it will be Jorah/Dany centric.

Thank you all for reading and reviewing. It really means a lot to me, especially when looking for motivation to overcome writers block and keep telling the story.