Here it is! This entire chapter is just fluff, essentially. Nothing too explicit or smutty. Enjoy!

I do not own Game of Thrones.

8/24 - No update. I just edited a typo that was bothering me.

CHAPTER 6

Jorah

The next several days passed without incident. When Daenerys' fever broke and Sam assured him she was out of danger, Jorah moved into his own chambers.

As she grew stronger, Daenerys began to hold small council meetings in her chambers- they typically included Jon, Tyrion, Grey Worm, Sam, Ser Davos, and himself. Tyrion had done much in the way of rebuilding efforts and organizing relief for those in the poorest conditions. Grey Worm was named her Master of War- a position they all hoped would be honorary and unneeded- and charged with organizing the Unsullied and Dothraki into a cavalry and Queen's Guard of sorts, with Jorah as her Lord Commander. Ser Davos was named Master of Ships and tasked with reopening sea trade.

"It seems we are still missing a Master of Coin, a Master of Law, and a Master of Whisperers," she looked to Tyrion.

"I will compile a list of names for your consideration and get it to you shortly."

"Thank you. You all may go. Tyrion, one last thing - and Ser Jorah, would you stay for a moment?" The two men nodded, and the others left the room.

She addressed Tyrion first as Jorah moved to to the corner of the room, "Tyrion, has there been any word from the great houses?"

"The Starks, Yara Greyjoy, Edmure Tully, Robin Arryn, Gendry Baratheon, and Quentyn Martell should arrive within the month. In lieu of a Tyrell, Samwell Tarly represents the second most influential house in the Reach, and I- much to my dismay- as the last surviving Lord of Casterly Rock, represent the Westerlands. Together with yourself, we represent the nine provinces."

"Thank you. Please let me know of any changes. That will be all." Tyrion gave a short bow and exited the room.

She sighed heavily. Jorah wanted to know why she had sent for representatives from the great houses. They had pressed her to make arrangements for her coronation, but she had refused saying she would wait until she had met with the other lords and ladies of Westeros. It seemed a reasonable enough request, but Jorah knew she was planning something.

Still, he did not push her.

Her ribs and ankle would not be fully healed for at least another 3 weeks. And although she had taken to walking short spells with a crutch and the grey tinge had faded from her skin, she seemed to tire quickly.

After a long silence he said, "Did you need something from me, Your Grace?"

Her crutch caught the corner of the table as she turned to face him, and she stumbled slightly. Jorah moved quickly to take her arm.

"Are you alright, Khaleesi?"

"Yes, just clumsy," she grimaced as he helped her sit in a chair near the fire.

"What can I do for you?"

Her face flushed slightly, "I was hoping you might join me for supper this evening?"

Jorah was surprised. He couldn't remember the last time they had a meal together, just the two of them. "I'd be happy to."

She smiled back at him, "Until this evening then."

Daenerys laughed freely over supper, as he regaled her with stories of growing up on Bear Island and tourneys long since forgotten. Jorah couldn't help but laugh with her. He had not seen her smile this much since before Drogo died. He had missed this Khaleesi.

She looked as she had when he first met her. Her hair was pulled back into one simple braid, save the few rebellious strands that framed her face. In her recovery, she had taken to wearing simple gowns that were easy for her to put on. She had yet to take on any handmaids, so she dressed for function rather than fashion. Tonight, she wore a pale lavender frock that tied at her hip. He couldn't help but think the simplicity and color of her dress further highlighted her natural beauty.

"More wine?" She held up the pitcher.

"No, no, unlike Tyrion I'm out of practice with these sweet southern wines. They turn my head."

"I think I should like to see that," she smirked and refilled his cup.

"As you say, Khaleesi."

She sat the pitcher down with an unsteady effort and returned to her chair.

"Khaleesi…not anymore," she looked wistful.

"You will always be a Khaleesi to me."

She smiled at him, "I remember the first time we rode through the Dothraki Sea. Seeing the landscape for the first time. I couldn't imagine anything more beautiful…"

"There's nothing like it in the Seven Kingdoms."

"Do you ever miss it?"

"It doesn't serve us to look back, Khaleesi." The truth was, he didn't know. He often struggled to separate the memory of that time from everything that came before and after.

"You told me once that you prayed for home. Now what do you pray for?"

You.

"Your long and happy reign."

"Do you ever wonder what things would have been like if I'd never walked into the fire? I'm sure it would have been a simpler path."

"Perhaps, but I've never put much thought to it."

"When I was a little girl, after Viserys and I were smuggled out of Westeros, we came to Braavos first. We lived in a house with a red door. I could see a lemon tree from the window of my bedroom. People were kind…I think it's the happiest I've ever been." She let out a sigh as she stared into the fire, "When was the last time you were truly happy, Ser?"

"I can't remember the last time I was as content as I am now." It was true. So much of their recent past had been an unending onslaught of regrets, challenges, wars, and death. There had been moments of rest, but they had always been fleeting.

She looked at him skeptically, "There must have been one moment in all these years. Tell me."

He sighed. He didn't know how to tell her that every happy moment he'd had since meeting her was because of her. He thought of all the times she had withdrawn from his touch and pushed him away for getting too close, or seeing her too clearly. He was afraid what he had to say would ruin this moment..but she had asked, and he could not deny her anything.

He considered his answer for a moment, "When I was cured."

"How did Sam do it? You've never said."

"It's not a pleasant story."

She had grown quiet and was looking at him very earnestly, "Go on."

He rolled up his sleeve and showed her the remnants of the disease, "Sam had to remove the infection and treat the flesh underneath."

In a tone laced sarcasm, she said, "You were skinned alive and that's your happy memory?"

He smirked at her reaction, "They had given me one day to live. Any cure seemed preferable to death." It was an attempt at a joke- he was trying to lighten the mood, but she had grown very somber.

She looked at him intently, as if she were making an important decision.

She stood then with shaky confidence and crossed the short space between them. Jorah stood and offered her a hand to steady her.

"May I see them? The scars. All of them," she said.

Jorah searched her eyes in disbelief.

He began to protest, "Khaleesi, it's not-"

"Please," she said with a finality he could not argue with.

He nodded and began to remove his cloak and vest. When he reached his tunic, her hands stopped his own.

"Let me." She took a small step back, creating just enough space between them so she could start unlacing his tunic herself. He assisted her in lifting it over his head when she couldn't quite reach. She gasped slightly when she saw the puckered scars that covered most of his torso and abdomen. He searched her face for any sign of fear or disgust; he found none. He saw only remorse written there.

"One day… I never knew it had come so close. I could have lost you and never known." She worried her bottom lip with her teeth.

"No, I wrote you a letter. I would have said goodbye somehow."

"A letter? Do you remember what it said?"

Jorah looked at her for a long time. He did remember.

Khaleesi,

I came to the Citadel in the last hope that the maesters could treat me, as you ordered. Even with all their arts, I am beyond any cure but the grave. I have had a longer life than I deserved, and I only wish I could've lived to see the world you're going to build; standing by your side.

I have loved you since the moment I met you...

"That I was sorry I wouldn't get to live in the world you would create," he said, afraid to say more.

Her face was serious as her fingers lightly grazed his hand, arm, shoulder, neck, and face. It was as if she were committing every scar to memory. The scar on his neck from Qotho's arakh all those years ago, the now barely visible scars on his face from the fighting pits in Mereen, the angry wash of greyscale scars that covered much of his body, and finally, the deep purple scars from the wounds that had killed him- each one taken for her. Each seemed to haunt her more than the last, until tears fell down her cheeks.

Her small hand came to rest gently on the scar over his heart, "I never thanked you for saving my life. Not once."

He covered her hand with his own, "There is no need. I swore you my sword and my life years ago. Do not punish yourself for the sacrifice's others made on your behalf- certainly not mine. Serving you, seeing you succeed; that is what makes me happy, Khaleesi."

It was another declaration of love, and they both felt it.

Jorah looked at the floor, waiting to be dismissed as he always was when he revealed too much of himself to her.

But she did not dismiss him.

"You've given your life away for me countless times. Why?" She reached up and placed her hands on either side of his face

He looked deeply into her eyes, wanting to say so much, "You know why…I would do anything for you, Daenerys."

She kissed him then. Fully and gently. Jorah's hands instinctively went around her waist to support her. But he did nothing more, not quite believing this could possibly be what she truly wanted.

They seemed to remain like that for a very long time; holding each other with the desperation of two people who thought the other might vanish at any moment.

She moved her mouth to the shell of his ear, "Take me to bed."

He took her face gently in his hands, "Look at me…Are you sure? You owe me nothing. I accepted that you couldn't love me a long time ago. I've made peace with that. I don't want you to regret this."

She shook her head and leaned in close to kiss the scar on his chest. "There are times when I look at you and I can't believe you're real."

They were the same words he had said to her in Quarth; the words he had said when he didn't have the courage to tell her he loved her. Now she said them to him.

He kissed her deeply then, pulling her small frame flush with his own.

Daenerys stepped away from him to loosen the string at the front of her dress. It fell open and she shrugged it to the floor in one seamless gesture. Her pale skin seemed to glow in the firelight. Only the bind that Sam had wrapped around her chest to protect her injured ribs remained. Her fingers moved to untie the bandage, but Jorah stayed her hands.

"Leave it."

"Don't you want to see all of me?"

"I do, but if I were to cause you further injury, I would never forgive myself. It will be a reminder to not take things too quickly," he leaned down and kissed her cheek.

He pulled the end of her braid over her shoulder and removed the tie. She looked at him questioningly. He smirked and ran his fingers through the braid, shaking out her mane of silver hair.

"Beautiful," he said.

Jorah picked her up in his arms and carefully reclined her onto the bed, sure to keep his body lifted as to not put too much of his weight on her. His instinct to protect her was not lost even in the heat of the moment.

"You must tell me if I hurt you," he said.

She nodded

He leaned his head into the hollow beneath her ear and kissed a trail to her cleavage- barely visible from beneath the bandage that protected her ribs. He let his breath warm the fabric over her breasts, then moving lower, he kissed the soft skin of her belly. Her fingers wove through his hair, pulling it slightly with each new sensation. Her hips rocked against his own, providing the friction they both craved. He lightly slid the fingertips of his right hand down her body, causing goosebumps to rise on her skin. Gently, he rested his hand between her thighs, and slowly pushed two fingers inside her.

"Please, Jorah," she moaned and pushed her hips more firmly into his hand.

"Soon." He moved back to kissing her neck as he caressed her with his fingers. Her breath hitched.

Slowly he kissed her lips, eyes, and temples. Savoring ever piece of her.

"I want you," she pleaded.

He couldn't keep her waiting any longer. He rose on his forearms and positioned himself carefully between her legs. His mouth claimed her lips as he thrust into her.

She sighed his name as her nails slid down the tender skin on his back, causing him to shiver involuntarily.

Their bodies melted together, filling one another until wave after wave of pleasure consumed them both.

He couldn't believe he was in her arms. He would have loved her in silence for the rest of his life, but tonight at least, she was choosing him.

This chapter was much harder to write than I had anticipated. For some reason, writing intimacy between these two makes me feel like I'm intruding on them. Anyway.

Just so you know, posts will probably happen on Fridays from this point on as I have used all of my prewritten material.

Thanks again to everyone who has consistently read and reviewed. This story has gotten 10 new follows since Monday, which is insane to me. You're all the best.