I don't want to over-explain myself here, but basically the next few chapters are just going to get increasingly more fluffy. The next chapter is about 60% written so that will go up in the next couple of days. I hope you enjoy.

I don't own GoT or Jenny's Song, sadly.

CHAPTER 5

JORAH

Jorah took her back to her chambers. He wanted to ask her about her conversation with Tyrion, but she could barely keep her eyes open. He trusted that she would tell him if he needed to know. She seemed less agitated now than she had a few hours prior, but he wasn't sure if it was because she had gained some peace-of-mind or if her body had finally given out with exhaustion.

She winced slightly and seemed to wilt into him as he lifted her from the wheelchair to her bed. She was hot to the touch and a sheen of sweat beaded her face and made her hair stick to her neck. He helped her get comfortable in the bed and went to wet a cloth in the bowl on the bedside table. He was concerned about the rise in her temperature, but Sam seemed confident that it was a result of the strain of the day and not a sign of any danger. Still, Jorah would sleep in the chair near her bed tonight.

He gently ran the damp cloth across her forehead, neck, and down her arms. As he did so, she drifted in and out of sleep. She had gotten so thin, it frightened him. Not even in the Red Waste had she looked so frail. The guilt sat in his stomach like a rock. He knew there was nothing he could have done for her while he was…away. Yet the guilt clung to him anyway.

"Jorah," she whispered.

"Yes, Khaleesi?"

"Can you sing to me?" It was a simple enough request, and if it soothed her it was worth the effort. Quietly, he began to sing Jenny's Song in a low whisper.

"High in the halls of the kings who are gone…" Something about the song reminded him of the evening before the Battle of Winterfell; when the night had seemed simultaneously full of hope and dread.

"Jenny would dance with her ghosts…"

Truth be told, he had never expected to survive the battle. He was a soldier. He knew each fight could be his last, and they were about to wage war against death itself.

"The ones she had lost…"

When the wight plunged the blade deep into his chest he knew it was over, but he would defend her until the end, so there he stood.

I vow to serve you, obey you, and die for you if need be.

The last thing he remembered was her face. Her fear, her pain, her grief. He wanted to comfort her. He wanted to tell her it was alright, that he was sorry to leave her, that she would be a great queen…that he loved her. But the words did not come, and slowly the world faded away into nothingness.

"…And the ones who had loved her the most…"

There was nothing after death beyond vast darkness, but somehow, he was aware of the oblivion. It was as if he were waiting for something to happen.

And then it did.

"The ones who'd been gone for so very long…"

Suddenly there had been flashes of cold and the smell of ash; then heat and the dim flicker of candles. He had been confused. He woke on a wooden cot thinking he was still fighting. It was Samwell Tarly who calmed him down and told him as much as he knew. He explained that Arya Stark had killed the Night King and ended the Great War, and Daenerys was safely journeying south to Dragonstone with her fleet.

"Spun away all her sorrow and pain…"

Sam struggled to explain how Jorah had been brought back to life. He said they had pulled his body, unconscious but living, from the rubble of the funeral pyres. When Sam had stripped him to tend to his wounds, he had found the small red stone he now wore around his neck. Neither man knew its origin, but felt it should be kept safe, nonetheless.

The people of Winterfell had regarded him with suspicion and thinly veiled resentment. He understood their displeasure. Thousands of fathers, brothers, and sons had fallen in the battle. Why had he - a banished knight, of all people- been resurrected while the others remained dead? He hated himself for it. It made him feel ashamed- if the Queen was safe, why had he been brought back? He had done his duty. He should be dead like the others.

"…through the snow that swept through the hall…"

Then the news of the Greyjoy attack came. He had never felt so helpless. He attempted to steal a horse and leave Winterfell in the dead of night not two days after receiving the news. It was Bran Stark who had stopped him at the gate.

"You must not go to Dragonstone," the boy said calmly.

"She needs help. She needs protection." Jorah was a patient man, but he would not argue with the boy. Not about this.

"She does. But you must journey straight for King's Landing. When she takes the Seven Kingdoms, she needs you by her side, remember?"

Jorah's breath caught in his throat. "When I take the Seven Kingdoms, I need you by my side,"she had said it when she told him to find a cure.

How could the boy know?

"Ride hard for King's Landing, Ser Jorah. A power beyond her control is turning her thoughts dark and vengeful. If you do not reach her before the bells stop ringing, thousands will die, and she will be lost forever."

Sam had insisted on coming with him and Jorah had reluctantly agreed; the lad had saved his life once before, and after coming back from the dead, Jorah was unsure of his body and its limits. They rode hard and fast for King's Landing, speaking little on the way. Jorah was consumed by his need to reach her in time.

"From winter to summer…"

They reached King's Landing just as the bells began to ring.

"'Till the walls did crumble and fall…"

Jorah dismounted and ran through the streets. He had to get to her. He could see her in the distance; sitting atop Drogon she was hard to miss. It wasn't that far, but the maelstrom of small folk made the streets near impossible to navigate. People screamed, and plumes of smoke filled the air. He was getting closer, but he was running out of time. Even if he did reach her, would she see him? Could she hear him? How was he to get her attention? Any moment the bells could go quiet and all would be lost.

She will be lost forever.

KHALEESI, he shouted. It was all he could do.

KHALEESI!

Suddenly, she looked to the ground frantically searching the bodies below. Gods, she had heard him.

KHALEESI! He hoped it was enough.

He called her name again and again. He could see her searching for him in the crowd. Maybe if he could reach the bell tower she would see him- but just as he began to move towards the tower, he saw her wobble and collapse. She fell hard against Drogon's left shoulder and rolled the length of his wing until she slipped from him altogether and fell violently through the air towards the street below.

Oh Gods.

Mercifully, Drogon swooped down and grasped her in his giant claw. He landed firmly on the ground, hissing at any who came too close to his mother. Jorah approached them slowly and carefully.

"Let me help her. Please." Drogon's huge snout got close to Jorah's face, sniffing him. He could feel the dragon's hot breath burning his skin. Then Drogon let out a small whistle of recognition and gave Jorah a hard nudge. "I missed you too, boy." Jorah carefully lifted Danearys' small battered frame into his arms and carried her to the Red Keep.

"The ones she had lost and the ones she had found…"

What had followed was over a fortnight of worry and sleepless nights. They couldn't be sure of the full extent of her injuries until she woke, and there had been whispered concerns about her mental state. When Varys' letter arrived for Tyrion,Jorah told them all of Bran's message and they began to slowly piece things together.

"And the ones…"

It all seemed so long ago, but it had barely been a week since the siege. Now she lay there in front of him sleeping soundly. Safe.

"…who had loved her…"

He was grateful that no one had questioned him about the details of his resurrection. He assumed that after everything they had all seen, they simply accepted that he was there to serve his queen as he had always done.

"…the most."

He didn't realize he had dozed off until he heard her call out to him. Her eyes were closed, but her face was wet with tears and her nightgown damp with sweat. She thrashed at unseen terrors.

"I'm here, Khaleesi. You're safe." He placed the cool cloth on her forehead and took her hands in his.

She woke with a gasp. Her panicked eyes searched his.

"It's alright, lass. It was just a dream." He wiped the tears from her face. She was trembling.

"It always feels so real," she whimpered.

"Sometimes talking about our fears takes away their power. Would you tell me about the dream?" He wanted her to talk about the things that plagued her mind. He wanted her to know she didn't have to bear the weight of the world alone. "Please?"

She nodded and he helped her sit up and offered her a sip of water. He felt compelled to take her in his arms and comfort her, but he dared not. He simply gave her his full attention and encouraged her to go on.

"It's the same dream every night. First, it's you in my arms. We're in the mud at Winterfell. I try to keep you with me, but you just disintegrate into ash…and then it's Rhaegal's scream…his body falling from the sky…Then Missandei in chains on the gates of King's Landing. That's how she died. That's how Cersei killed her. After years of freedom, she was murdered in chains. They cut her head from her shoulders and shoved her body over the gate. Her last word was 'Dracarys'. She told me to burn them. But I couldn't. I didn't do anything to protect her…" her sobs were catching in her throat. She crossed her arms over her chest to stop her body from shaking.

He couldn't resist anymore. He moved to sit next to her on the bed and pressed her against his chest. She was too young to have seen such horror. He rocked her gently as she went on, wanting nothing more than to take away her pain.

"It is not your fault, Daenerys," he said earnestly, but she seemed not to hear him.

"I hear her say it in my dreams. It's always the same. I'm on Drogon's back and we're taking the city. I hear Missandei's voice, and it becomes my voice…burn them all. High born and low. And I do. Women scream over the bodies of their children and I feel nothing. Nothing at all. I burn the city until nothing stands. Ash falls from the sky like snow. Then I'm in the throne room, and as I reach out to touch the Iron Throne, it melts and starts to consume me. I call out, but no one comes because all the people I love are dead. They died for me, but there's nothing left of me…"

He cupped her face in his hands and looked into her eyes, "Listen now. You are allowed miss those you've lost, but never blame yourself. We all made our choices, Khaleesi. All of us. You did not force us to fight for you. We devoted our lives to you knowing the risks. We did it because we knew your heart. That is what we fought for. I fought and died for the girl that walked bravely into the flames. I fought for the girl who knew her power before anyone else did. That is your strength. Yes, you are the Mother of Dragons, but that is not why Missandei, me, and so many others dedicated our lives to yours. It is your compassion, your kindness, your capacity for forgiveness that I serve. It is everything you are and were before you ever sat atop a dragon."

"I've lost that girl. Jorah. The people of Westeros are afraid me. I'm afraid of me. I'm afraid of what I might have done. I'm afraid of what I could do."

Jorah had never seen her like this; so unsure of herself. He realized then the toll her quest had taken on her. She had been so strong for so long, her grief gone unrecognized for far too long. He finally understood.

"I know your heart, and I know your mind. You have done only what was necessary to get where you are. Many kings have done far worse, with far less remorse. Your legacy is not defined by what you might have done."

She shook her head, "I only stopped because I heard you."

"But you still stopped. No one prevented you from giving Drogon the order. You chose not to give it. You put your vengeance aside to listen to a voice in the crowd. I refuse to believe that is the decision of a tyrant. Your dragons may have helped you take the throne, but they are not what makes you worthy of it. It is your soul. I swear to you here and now that I will never let you forget that."

He looked at her with everything he felt for her written on his face. I love you. I will always love you.

"Thank you," she said.

Her hand came to rest on his cheek and he instinctively leaned into its warmth.

"Jorah, I…" she said, her hand still on his cheek.

"Yes, Khaleesi?"

"I…" There was something she couldn't bring herself to say. "Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?" She looked into her lap with an expression that he didn't quite understand.

"Of course."

He supported her head as he laid her back in the bed. Her fever seemed to be breaking, much to his relief. He held her hand until her breath became even and her fingers went slack. He looked at her face while she slept and marveled at everything this the young woman before him had managed to do.

I will never let you forget who you are.

Thanks so much for reading. There seem to be about 150 of you who read each chapter, if stats are to be believed. Thanks for sticking around while I figure out how to do this.

Thanks a TON to Silent Wolf Singer, poohbear319, and WolvieLover for reviewing every chapter so far. I really can't tell you how chuffed it makes me. I'm basically writing this story for you guys at this point.