Hi! I'm so sorry for a two month absence. My only explanation is that life happens and it has been an incredibly busy two months AND my laptop is still broken...which make everything harder because I no longer have access to my original drafts.

This chapter is admittedly clumsy, but it's something. I hope you all enjoy.

I don't own GoT.

Chapter 10

She was in the Red Keep, once again standing in front of the Iron Throne. The roof of the throne room appeared to have collapsed, yet the throne still stood, unmarred by the chaos around it. Through the gaps in the walls, she could see the streets of King's Landing. All around her buildings fell and bodies smoldered in a sticky mixture of mud, ash, and burnt flesh. The air was thick. The smells choked her. Fire burned, but the wind was freezing and smelled of death.

Unlike before the throne did not melt into a molten pool at her feet; instead the throne appeared to be made of ice. Her hand shook as she reached out to touch the frozen chair. As her fingertips made contact with the glassy arm, the throne shattered into a thousand icy fragments, and disappeared in a puddle on the floor.

Snow and ash began to fall from the sky in dense flakes covering the ruins of the city, snuffing out the fires, and hiding the gore under a layer of pure white.

She heard footsteps behind her, and as she turned to see who it was she felt an abrupt pain shooting through her chest. Gasping, she grabbed wildly for the area which now bloomed with blood. She stumbled and fell to the ground. She searched for her assailant but they were no where to be found. The world around her faded to black, and she heard a dragon scream over head...

Daenerys woke with a start. She had dozed off while reading by the fire in her chambers. She looked towards the window and the sky told her it must be late afternoon, almost evening.

She needed to get out of this room.

She was trembling as she tied her dressing gown around her waist and exited her chambers.

JORAH

Standing outside her door, Jorah felt like a coward. He hesitated to knock, wanting desperately to spend a little more time in the memory of their night together- this union which had taken so long to manifest and now would be over before it could really begin. He had avoided her all day by keeping himself busy in the barracks, but he had promised to join her again this evening and could no longer delay the inevitable.

He loved her. She said she loved him. Was that really such a terrible offense? He knew he was an unwise choice. He had thought it himself this morning. And it was true that Sansa Stark felt no warmth for Daenerys, and the North could be a powerful enemy. But was Daenerys' love for him a true threat? She had taken the throne against impossible odds. Could loving a man below her station truly be enough to inspire unrest?

In his experience love was unpredictable and often fleeting. This, too, might pass. And even if it did not, he believed he could make her happy. Didn't she deserve some happiness after everything she'd been through? Why should he and Tyrion assume her intentions? Neither of them knew what her true plans were. Then again, perhaps that was the problem.

It seemed that he was not simply a bad option, but that Jon Snow was the only option to preserve an alliance with the North.

So, there he stood at war with himself.

He took a deep breath, raised his arm, and knocked.

There was no answer.

He knocked again.

Again, there was no answer.

He tentatively pushed the door to her chambers open.

"Khaleesi?"

She was not there. The only light in the room was the evening sunset which cast pale orange and purple shadows through the window.

He was the captain of her Queen's Guard. He was responsible for knowing her whereabouts at all times. If he had not been notified of her location, it was because she did not want to be followed. He feared she may have taken Drogon to fly when she was no where near well enough. If she had tflown and lost her seat...

He rushed to the window to see if he could see them in the sky.

To his relief, there was no dragon in the sky, but there was one sleeping in the outer yard...

He knew then where she had gone.

He pushed the great door to the throne room open and saw her standing at the foot of the steps leading to the Iron Throne, looking up at it in a mixture of wonder and fear.

"Hello there," he said gently.

She didn't respond. She continued to look forward in a daze. He moved toward her, quietly.

"Khaleesi?"

He stopped slightly behind her. He didn't want to startle her. Her hair was loose around her shoulders and she wore her dressing gown over her night gown, her crutch tucked under her arm, and a book held tightly in her right hand.

She glanced back at him, "Jorah?"

"Are you alright? I hadn't expected to find you here."

"I've never been in here. In all of the weeks I've been in the Keep, I'd not set foot in this room...but I've dreamt about it." She turned her eyes back to the throne.

"Is it as you had imagined?"

"It's smaller than I thought it would be. Years of yearning, fighting, loss, betrayal, and bloodshed...all for this. And now, standing before it, I can't bring myself to touch it."

He stepped forward and began to place his hand on her shoulder, but he stopped himself. He took a step back and clasped his hands behind his back. She turned to face him when she heard his footsteps. An emotion he couldn't identify written on her face. She looked almost frightened.

"I've heard it's dreadfully uncomfortable." With this her face softened into a light smile. "What have you got there?" He nodded towards the book in her hand.

She held up the book and showed him the cover, "The Histories of Westeros- some recommended reading from Tyrion."

"Ah yes. I suppose it is important to know the history of those you are to rule," he gave her a half smile, but her face fell, and she looked at the floor.

"Yes."

He had not intended to make her feel insecure, but rather encourage her to keep going. "Your ancestors feature heavily in the founding of Westeros. Things have finally come full circle."

"Few Targaryens seem to have ruled justly."

"On the contrary, many ruled quite well by the standards of their time."

"Conquered."

"What?"

"Aegon the Conqueror conquered Westeros. Targaryen's throughout history have conquered lands, prompted war and rebellion, married their siblings, and hatched dragons. Fire and blood indeed."

With some effort she sat on the bottom step, and patted the spot beside her in a silent request for him to join her. He adjusted his swordbelt and sat beside her.

"Jaehaerys the First ended the Faith Militant Rebellion and ruled through one of the most prosperous eras in Westerosi history."

"And for every Jaehaerys I, there has been a Maegor the Cruel, Baelor the Blessed, or Mad King Aerys II." Her voice was hollow.

"You will not become your father. I know you've had nightmares about this chair and the power that accompanies it, but it's just a symbol. This grotesque piece of furniture is not what makes you Queen."

"So you've said. What does? Oh yes, my gentle heart. Many Targaryens seem to have had long reigns without such sympathy." She gave him an incredulous look.

"That coldness is not reserved for your ancestors alone. Robert Baratheon was negligent at best. It seems Joffrey was an utter terror, and you know what Cersei was capable of. A gentle heart is something these kingdoms have not seen in centuries."

"Will I also rule with the constant threat of civil war or rebellion?"

"No. I will do everything in my power to ensure that nothing threatens you ever again..."

Including me.

He looked at her. If he was truly going to protect her, he knew what he had to do.

Daenerys sensed the change in his mood and shifted to place a hand on his cheek. "What is it, my bear?"

He flinched and turned away from her palm as it grazed his skin. "I can't."

"Oh, not this again. I'm afraid I don't have a sheet to drop this time." She gave him a coy smirk and reached for him once more.

"No, Your Grace." With this he stood, creating some distance between them, and turned to face her.

"Your Grace?" Her smile faded.

"We cannot continue down this path."

"Gods, you really mean it." She looked at him with piercing eyes.

"I do."

She shook her head, "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I want what's best for you."

"Ha!" She stood with an exasperated sigh.

"Because it's safer this way. Easier."

"Easier? Easier for whom? Whose idea was this? Yours or Tyrion's?"

He didn't know how to answer. Her eyes searched his for answers he could not give her.

"I see. And who do the two of you suggest in your place?"

"...Jon Snow."

"You can't be serious," she scoffed.

"You love him."

"I loved him once."

"You love him still. I've watched you love enough men to know the difference."

She flinched as if his words had struck her. It was a cruel thing to say. He hadn't meant to say it, but now he could not take it back.

"Jon no longer loves me." Her voice was barely a whisper.

"He will do what's best for his people."

"Must the two of us be condemned to a loveless marriage because it's what is best for our people?"

"You still love each other. Perhaps not romantically, but he would never hurt you. It is a powerful alliance. A necessary alliance."

She tried to move past him, but he caught her arm gently. It was the first contact they'd had since he kissed her goodbye this morning. Now she responded like his touch stung her.

"Let me go, Jorah."

"Dany-"

"Don't."

He released her arm, "This is what's best for you. For the security of your reign. For the Seven Kingdoms."

"I am so sick of men deciding what is best for me. What if-" she stopped herself and considered him for a moment. A flicker of resentment and sadness passed across her face. "What if I am not best for the Seven Kingdoms? Shouldn't I be allowed to make that decision for myself?"

"If you're not, then who is?"

"A great many people, I imagine."

"This is your destiny."

"Destiny? After all of the terrible things we've seen, you still believe in destiny? Is it my destiny to never be allowed to be with the person I love? Was it my destiny to watch two of my children, Drogo, and you die? Was it destiny when Missandei was murdered on the city gate? When I burned men alive for my own advancement, was that destiny? The Masters of Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen, the Khals, the Tarly's, Varys...that's quite a high body count for the sake of my destiny."

She spat the words at him.

He took a step towards her.

She took a step away from him.

"All of those men would have done worse to you given the opportunity."

"And when I wanted to burn this city to the ground killing thousands of innocents, what would that have been?"

"You weren't in your right mind. What Varys did-"

"WE CAN'T KNOW THAT!" She took a moment to collect herself and continued, "We can never know if that's true."

"Everything that you have done and will do, everything that you have seen, has led you here. You are meant to rule this country, and Jon can ensure that you do so without further threat. If you are tired of fighting, Jon is your best option."

"And you? Where does this leave you?"

He hesitated. Where did it leave him?

"As your Lord Commander. As an adviser."

"It could never be that simple between us. It never has been." She crossed to him then and placed her hands on either side of his face. "Look me in the eye and tell me this is what you want for us. Tell me you don't love me."

Looking into her eyes, all he wanted to do was tell her he loved her.

"You know I can't."

"Then why do this now when we're so close."

They stared at each other in silence for what felt like an eternity.

"It is my duty to serve you."

She dropped her hands and backed away from him. "Your duty?"

He could see that of all of the words they had thrown at each other, this had caused her the most pain. He hated himself for it.

He had never served her out of duty. He served her because he loved her.

Tears filled her eyes and she turned her back to him.

"Tell Tyrion I will consider his suggestion. In the meantime, he is not to proceed with his plot until I have made my decision." Her voice was measured and cold.

All he wanted to do was go back to last night. He wanted to hold her close and feel the warmth of her breath against his cheek. He was sorry. So profoundly sorry.

"Khaleesi-"

"Goodnight, Ser. You have made your point and done your duty. You are dismissed." She did not turn to look at him as he left, and he couldn't help but feel that she had just banished him once again.