Hello !

Two important things : I'm French, so please, forgive any mistake you might find (fortuntely, I know a good online translator that helps me winning some time) and this is a hundred percent Dany/Jorah story!

This takes place during season 7, it is a complete rewriting, even if you'll see I will keep some dialogues from the show.

Have a nice reading.

It was like being in a cradle. The world was rocking. The rocking was regular, the wood creaked and groaned with the movements of the sea. Although childhood memories were distant and almost erased, the sensations persisted. They were all the stronger because of the excitement mixed with nervousness.

On the lower deck of the ship that was taking him to Dragonstone, Jorah Mormont was trying to relax, his eyes closed, lying as best he could in the small hammock that had served as his bed since he left Oldtown. Although he was completely cured of the greyscale and not contagious, his body was still in pain. His wounds had healed, but his skin was still sensitive and the slightest friction was uncomfortable.

A hand jerked at his leg.

"Hey!"

The knight opened his eyes and sat up quickly.

The man who had roused him from his slumber recoiled. Jorah had been around him more than he would have liked. He was the captain's right hand. He was neither pleasant nor friendly. Short of money, the knight had been unable to pay for his trip, so in exchange he had offered to work. The captain had accepted, having quickly recognized the sailor that was Jorah. The man, too happy to give orders to a knight, had treated him with ridiculous disdain and smugness.

Usually, one look from the knight was enough to calm him down immediately. So, for a second, Jorah felt greatly satisfied as he saw the fear light up the sailor's dull, glassy eyes. The dagger clutched in the knight's hand was the cause. After months without fighting, he was relieved to see that he had not lost his warrior instincts.

Fully awake, he watched the man regain his composure while tucking his weapon into his boot.

"We'll be right there. Hurry up, get your things and get on deck," the sailor growled in a voice made hoarse and greasy by the abuse of various liquid courage.

Annoyed, Jorah merely stared tiredly at a point beside him. He waited for the man to leave before moving. As he buckled his belt around his waist and fastened his cloak, he wondered how he'd made it all the way without killing him. Literally.

The knight stepped onto the deck and was greeted by a sudden gust of wind. Hypnotized by the sight before his eyes, he walked to the rail. The sea was rough and the sea birds were flying low, very low. A few miles away, the island sat in the middle of the sea, imposing with its steep limestone cliffs. From the boat, he could see the rocks of the cove where he was going to land tapered by erosion. The Targaryen stronghold was a grey and unattractive but impressive silhouette. Above the towers, three shapes hovered nonchalantly.

The knight swallowed hard, overcome with nervousness and emotion. Finally...

"I should have asked you more questions."

Jorah turned to the captain who had approached him.

"A penniless knight asking for work in exchange for travel happens, not all the time, but it happens. But a penniless knight who arrives on this cursed island looking at dragons as if he already knew them, that's not very usual."

The knight felt himself smile involuntarily.

"This is the first time I've seen dragons, and they're still far away, but they just make me want to shit my trousers! I'm not gonna get any closer, especially with the Unsullied about to greet us. You don't seem to be afraid of the dragons or the Unsullied. Who are you, really?"

A ship from Daenerys' fleet had anchored very close to the merchant ship. Close enough for them to talk.

"What are you doing in these waters?" the Unsullied captain shouted in Valyrian.

The captain turned to Jorah, his eyebrows furrowed.

"I am Jorah Mormont, returning to the service of Queen Daenerys."

In front of him, there were movements of incomprehension. The knight forced himself to remember his Valyrian. He repeated the same words in his Queen's language. This time he knew they understood him. It seemed that one of them even recognised him. Captain Unsullied then beckoned him to come aboard.

Relieved, Jorah went to join Daenerys' soldiers under the curious gaze of the man who had been his captain for a time. The knight didn't pay much attention to the rest of the journey, his eyes glued to the dragons. More shaken than he expected, Jorah felt his eyes fogging up despite himself. As he had promised Daenerys, he still remembered the first time he had seen Drogon, Viserion and Rhaegal, smaller than cats. Seeing them fully grown filled him with both pride and melancholy.

The knight only really got back to reality when the boat scraped against the sand and stopped. He was greeted on the beach by Dothraki. The Unsullied Captain explained the situation to a tall warrior who looked down on Jorah. The knight bet that he was a member of Daenerys' personal guard.

He introduced himself again, in Dothraki.

"I am Jorah Mormont, I serve the Khalessi and... I am her friend."

The warrior raised a smug eyebrow, before beckoning Jorah to follow him. They climbed a never-ending staircase before reaching the top of the island. In the distance, Jorah saw her white, fully braided head and dark figure. He felt his old heart racing and his blood pounding furiously in his ears. It took all his strength not to let his emotions overwhelm him further.

Daenerys had not seen him yet. She was not alone, in the company of a man he guessed was young, perhaps as young as she was. The young woman stood straight, haughty, and he recognized the cold expression she wore with anyone outside her intimate sphere.

When they reached her, the blood rider was careful to stand between Jorah and his Khaleesi, and the other warriors also moved closer to the knight.

"This man says he is your friend, Khaleesi."

Daenerys turned as she heard the voice of the Dothraki who stepped aside to reveal Jorah. The young woman's face fell. For a split second, the knight feared she would reject him. But she blinked several times and her mouth opened as if she didn't dare to believe it. He recognised the shadow of a smile that passed over her face.

"He is my friend," she replied in the same language, in a voice full of emotion.

Jorah stepped forward and knelt before her surprised eyes.

"Your Grace".

He rose to his feet and could not help but stare at the stranger at his queen's side.

"Jon Snow, this is Ser Jorah Mormont, an old friend."

The young man's gaze had the severity of an older man's. Jorah thought he recognized the sigil on the breastplate of this Jon Snow's armor. A northern bastard, of House Stark. Ned Stark's son.

"I served under your father. He was a great man," the young man said in a voice as deep and as stern as his gaze.

Jorah felt his legs tremble. Jeor Mormont would always be a sensitive subject. Daenerys' voice brought him back to the present.

"You look strong. You found a cure?" she asked with concern.

"I would not be here if I hadn't. I return to your service, my queen, if you'll have me."

"It would be my honour," she replied with a smile that reached her large eyes.

Without daring to believe it, Jorah watched her approach him as if she had never been angry with him, as if she had never banished him. Bewildered, the knight did not dare to move. She looked him straight in the eyes, truly happy. The young woman hesitated a second before drawing him to her.

In shock, Jorah was unable to respond to her embrace. Daenerys was stingy in showing affection, and given their tumultuous past... He didn't see the look of relief that crossed her face when she rested her chin on his shoulder, her eyes closed. He did feel the gloved hand that caressed the back of his neck before she released him.

Their gazes locked as before, with complicity and intensity. For a second, he felt as if it was just them and the rest of the world did not exist. Jorah realised without surprise that his feelings for her were as strong as ever.

However, when the knight looked up, he saw Jon Snow's eyes moving from Daenerys to him with incomprehension, distrust. Completely unaware of their staring match, the young woman stepped back with that smile still on her lips.

After an uncomfortable silence, to which she seemed insensitive, Daenerys raised her voice again.

"I said you look strong, but the journey to Dragonstone must have been long. You look exhausted."

Jorah pursed his lips.

"No, Your Grace. I am well."

The young woman squinted and clasped her hands together in front of her. Her smile became a mocking one.

"I know you, Jorah. I don't believe a word of it."

The knight looked down as he felt himself smile. Daenerys' gaze shifted from Jorah to Jon.

"I've just come back from a long journey myself," she said. "I'm starving."

If Jon Snow had relaxed after meeting Drogon and talking to her alone, the young man had just closed up. The young woman pursed her lips as she realised this. Daenerys was trying to figure out how to lighten this oddly heavy atmosphere when Jon found the best diplomatic answer.

"If you'll excuse me, your Grace, I must return to supervise the obsidian extraction."

"Of course," she replied with a smile.

Jon exchanged glances with Jorah again, whose blue eyes did not waver. This did not escape the young woman's notice. Jon walked away after a brief nod. When the knight turned to his queen, she had her head cocked slightly to one side, her eyebrows raised.

"I don't think I got the whole exchange."

Jorah looked down, embarrassed.

"I think... I think Jon Snow recognized me."

"What do you mean?"

"I think he knows about my past, and the sentence that was passed by his father..."

Daenerys rolled her eyes and moved closer to her friend.

"It was years ago, Jorah. You sold slaves, but since then you have freed some and you have made amends. So, I will not let Jon Snow, or anyone else, come after you."

The young woman's smile returned and Jorah felt himself losing his nerve. She took his hand and put gentle pressure on it.

"I am glad to see you. Truly," she said in a voice that was almost covered by the wind.

Daenerys released him, and with a wave of her hand, invited him to follow her. Together they walked to the fortress, while above them the three dragons danced in the wind. Jorah couldn't help but stare at them in wonder.

"They are regal."

"I know," she replied with a touch of pride and tenderness. "Long gone are the days when they were holding in my hand."

In a peaceful silence they walked back to the castle. The dragons carved into the black stone were impressive. There was no doubt that this was the home of the mighty Targaryen. A few steps behind Daenerys, the knight allowed himself to observe her without her noticing.

The many silver-blonde braids that covered her head were elaborately intertwined. A long braid whipped her straight back and her shoulders widened by the shoulder pads of her cloak. Daenerys had not lost the habit of wearing leather trousers, which must have helped her not feel the cold so much. Her new look was very martial, far from the lightness and sensuality of the cities of Essos. Seeing the gloves on her hands, and the fur protruding from her collar, the knight found it hard to hold back a smile. The elements were raging around this island, but they were still far from the harsh weather of the North.

Daenerys ushered Jorah into the castle through the front door. Excited to show her oldest friend her family's castle, the young woman kept turning to him to see his eyes widen. The knight's piercing eyes were everywhere, but they often came back to her.

The young woman was walking faster and faster towards the throne room when she heard Jorah's footsteps slowing behind her. Daenerys turned as she was about to climb the flight of stairs to her throne.

Suddenly, the knight seemed hesitant, his hands clasped in front of him. He was staring at the ground with a deference that she found unusual. Jorah had always been respectful, but he had always walked only a few steps behind her, or even beside her, with the same ease. Daenerys did not recognise this lack of familiarity.

"Jorah?"

The man's head snapped up. The young woman thought he looked like a child about to be reprimanded.

"Your Grace?"

The smile on Daenerys' face flickered. Where did this terrible distance come from? And this " Your Grace"? Jorah had been the only one to keep calling her "Khalessi". That title meant many things. From the day they had met, when Jorah had made his choice between serving the unstable and dangerous Viserys, or serving the touching and unexpected Daenerys. Of all the difficulties he had helped her overcome. Of their friendship that had withstood everything. No, almost anything...

In the Great Pyramid of Mereen, the young woman had said many harsh words during the trial of Jorah's treason, which she had forgotten but now regretted. On the other hand, the knight had obviously not forgotten.

Daenerys approached him as she thought about it. She understood that despite her welcome, he did not entirely trust her. Their eyes met. For long seconds they stared at each other. The young woman felt her throat tighten. Finding the situation stupid, she decided to break the ice between them after discreetly clearing her throat.

"Jorah, do you want to ask me something?"

"Yes, Your Grace. I wish to renew my vow to serve you."

Daenerys frowned.

"But you already did that when you arrived."

"I want to do it properly, my queen," he insisted with a determined look.

Blinking, the young woman merely nodded. She returned to the throne where she sat, her hands clasped nervously in her lap. Jorah approached, drawing his sword from its sheath. The knight hesitated for a second before climbing the few steps that separated her from him. He placed the sword at her feet before straightening up. Daenerys didn't miss his pained grimace as he dropped to one knee.

Finally, Jorah looked up. His gaze was so serious that the young woman felt compelled to stand even straighter.

"Your Grace, I offer you my services once again. I swear an oath to shield your back, to keep your council and to give my life for you. I will be your liege. My sword and my heart are yours."

Jorah had never been so formal. But he had said it. He would be her liege. Completely devoted. Only death would release him from his oath.

"I will never betray you again. I swear it before the old Gods and the new," he added even more seriously.

Daenerys had to take a deep breath to ward off the wave of emotions that suddenly overwhelmed her. It took her a few seconds to remember the right answer.

"And... I vow that you should always have a place by my side, in my home and at my table. I will not ask any service of you that might bring you dishonour. I swear it before the old Gods and the new..."

Her voice had trembled and when she saw Jorah's eyes glistening with tears that seemed difficult to contain, the young woman could not hold back the one that ran down her own cheek.

"Arise, my friend."

The knight sheathed his sword and obeyed his queen's command. When he looked down at her, Daenerys saw that the distance had disappeared from his eyes.

"Thank you," he whispered.

The corners of her lips turned up in a shy smile. She expected him to take her in his arms. She could see in his eyes that he wanted to do so. And Daenerys wouldn't stop him. But the knight did nothing of the sort.

Unable to bear his stubborn reserve any longer, the young woman reached out her hands. They took hold of hers. Despite their gloves, Daenerys could feel the strength of his hands that had always made her feel safe. They were together again. Queen and liege. Friends.

All that remained was for their wounds to heal.

Daenerys smiled more frankly, more confidently. Yes, they were together again. Home.

"Welcome to Westeros, Jorah."

So, what do you think? This is rather short for me, I usually post much longer chapters.

Next time, you'll see how Jorah truly live his return beside Daenerys and her council before the meeting for the capture of the wight.

See you.