Tw: pseudo-cannibalism
"Tysha." Jorah listens as the Imp whimpers that name in his sleep, his mind travels to the Imp's family currently sitting on Daenerys throne. As if to mock him the half-nosed man lets out a content sigh making Jorah punt his foot forward letting his steel toed boot jam into the side of the sleeping half-man. Silently enjoying the pained grunt and wheeze that comes out of him.
Jorah never said he was a good man.
His Kaleesi is the only person to ever make him feel like he's worth something and be more than he has been.
Jorah loathes ever wishing for the pardon, but is so thankful for it because it paved the path of finding his purpose. His Khaleesi, for who else can be his salvation, his reason to live and the will of his blade.
"-Was that for?" Tyrion asks coughing as he holds his side, his kidney if Jorah's aim is still true.
Starring with no remorse he speaks plainly, "come on, the Kaleesi awaits," before proceeding to tug on the chain binding Tyrion as his prisoner. The light armor on his body clinks as he turns, stepping out of the stables while pulling the lead, not caring if the dwarf follows or is left to be dragged.
Jorah raises a hand squinting at the brightness of the hot mid day, "Yes, yes, you've said that plenty of times." The half-man mutters as he follows along, not that he has a choice. Not bothering with a response, Jorah makes his way towards a merchant boat he's been able to coin his way in, with no questions.
The small modest boat is able to survive the sea for shorter routes, but it suits his needs.
"Did you hear? The Meereen Queen's black beast…" he tilts his head as he catches the beginning of the conversation, but he shrugs paying them no mind, gossip is plenty when it's about his Khaleesi. Some that make him stand proud, and then there's some that test his patience, clenching his pummel, straining against his anger at their insolence against his khaleesi.
"The black beast." Jorah isn't surprised to find Tyrion catching that name, with how much the half man raves about his love for dragons.
" I wonder what they look like." Glancing at Tyrion, having to bite his tongue, the khaleesi isn't afraid to correct anyone of their assumption that dragons are mere beasts, and it's rubbed off on her most faithful. He goes for a more passive route,"they are no mere beast, they're the khaleesi's children." He says, pulling in the leash.
He's enjoying this a little too much.
He can feel the glare slaking into his back as the inp responds. "Ah, yes the Mother of Dragon's." Looking back he can see the half man rubbing his throat.
Jorah can hear the typical weariness that comes with Daenerys proclaiming them to be her children.
Not that she needs to explain herself to these lowly sheep who should be grateful to even be able to breathe in her presence.
He keeps to himself while he passes people who stall in front of shops and steps over sleeping beggars, his mind only on one thing getting to his khaleesi.
Ruckus around the corner makes him turn in curiosity only to still as Jorah's eyes latch on to the black stallion with a Dothraki man is sitting upon the steed, though it's not the man that makes his heart seize.
No, it's the three headed dragon stamped on the side of his saddle proudly proclaiming his allegiance to his Khaleesi.
Jorah watches wary as the long braid swivels as if in search of someone or something, using his height on the horse to his advantage, since nobody is brave enough to ask him to dismount. He can see that it's Jhogo even from this distance. He tightens his hold on the imp, had they tracked him down in vengeance, he wouldn't be surprised if the zealots would try to kill him for his traitorous actions.
Which he deserves.
Unfortunately before he can think to duck out of sight Jhogo's dark eyes snare him,"Jorah of the Andal!" The name makes him sigh mentally, he's a Northerner even if he's a disgraced one. He can see Tyrion watching with trepidation as the man pushes through the crowd not caring for those who have to dive or duck out of his way. Once he nears jorah the firery warrior dismounts with an elegance only those of the Dothraki can manage.
There's no expression on his face as he stops before him, his Arakh jingling by his side. Though that does little to reassure him as the next words make his aged heart skip, "Khaleesi has ordered for your return." Before he has a chance to respond he feels Jhogo's fist slam into his face, his expression never changing as he simply stares as he stumbles. Cradling his face Jorah winces at the throbbing, distantly hearing Tyrion cough out a laugh.
"I give no shits for what you did, but if you ever hurt my Khaleesi, my Blood of my Blood again, I'll drape your guts over this half-man like a necklace." At the man's stare he nods, his voice even despite the migraine building. "I'll gladly hand you my sword to do so."
Jhogo seems satisfied because he goes to hop back on his horse, his duty done, "You westerosi cunt's better keep up." He shouts in common tongue before turning on the steed and galloping away.
Just as he's about to question how he's to follow a familiar gleam of armor meets his eye as the Unsullied second in command stands where the Dothraki bloodrider flew past.
The blankness in Red Rats gaze does little to soothe him.
There's a reason the Unsullied are feared in battle. Combine that with the zealousness of their devotion to Daenerys. He pities the fool who dares to even whisper an insult of Daenerys in front of any unsullied.
He is a fool.
"Thank you! Thank you, My Mhysa." The man bowing before her repeats as he presses his head to the floor, Danny feeling embarrassed crouches to grasp his arm, "Please, there is no need for all this." She insists as she helps the older man up, giving her party a desperate look.
His tanned wrinkled hand grasping her as he brings it to his mouth pressing a kiss to it before speaking, "There's much need for it, you don't know how much you've done for us Mhysa." He insists, the grip on her hand is strong despite his frail outward appearance. "My baby boy was returned to me! And I got to pick this one- my own clothing." That makes her smile, hiding her sadness.
"I'm glad you were able to be reunited with your son." thickly, drogon flashing before her mind, mentally shaking her head she continues, "if you need anything else please don't hesitate to speak to my men, they'll see to it that it's handled. For now please allow my royal advisor to help you with a suitable contract with house Targaryen as the personal blacksmith and weapons expert." She is met with silence.
Again the old man wails falling back on his knees, "Mhysa!" He exclaims latches onto her legs. Danny waves off her guards giving Missandei an exasperated look, to which her faithful friend simply smiles before stepping towards them gently leading the man with an anvil tattoo on his cheek towards a separate room to fork out the smaller details.
Letting out a tired sigh she inquires to her most passionate of companions, "Daario, would you please bring me a glass of wat-" she stops as a cup is pressed into her hand. Danny flushes at the sultry look from him.
She's been tempted to lay with him, but isn't sure she's ready to be vulnerable like that again.
"Thank you," she whispers, letting out a laugh when he simply winks, before walking all sultry back to his position.
"I think I'll be done for today," she says feeling a little guilty for those still outside, with her energy low she feels a nap will be good for her.
"Are you alright, Your Grace?" Barristan asks with such fatherly concern it almost makes her want to cry, instead she gives them all a reassuring smile she simply states she's tired, allowing Daario to lead her to her chambers.
Eventually Daenerys finds her head tucked under Daario's chin and lets his fingers lull her to sleep as they glide across her back.
And dreams.
Of flying over an army in the dead of night using the cloak of the black sky to hide her terrifying form.
Daenerys watches as she breathes her ferocious black and red flames upon the unsuspecting sleeping camp, the screams and sounds of flames destroying tents and siege warfare hastily crafted by inexperienced men, as all the experienced freedmen are protected by the Dragon Queen.
She watches as her fire consumes every last person, leaving nothing but ashes in her wake. The screams of Maester desperately demanding their slaves to save them only for them to bow before her they scream but with reverence as her great body lands taking in the destruction she caused.
She watches as soldiers in armor flail and desperately try to pry the red hot armor off their bodies, all for naught as she feels them be silenced under her feet and claws.
The slaves showing no fear as the separate beocre her keeping their distance as she walks each step causing the ground to shake. Her maw opens and lets out an earth shattering roar, feeling powerful as she watches the few men who attempt to fight cower and if her nose is correct, pissing themselves.
If she could laugh she would, instead she settled for letting out a stream of fire above their heads.
Before the masters have a chance to think, she reaches forward and snaps her jaws around the closest one swallowing his head, this seems to ignite the sla- freedmen, as they let out a cry from their soul before stampeding the remaining forces, she marvels at their courage. They with only their hands and rocks take back what's theirs.
Their right to be free.
She wakes up with a gasp, her hand to her mouth as bile rises, the feeling of the master's head traveling down her throat replaying in her mind.
"Drogon." She whispers ignoring Daario as Jon's words of warging come to mind.
She remembers how he spoke of being Ghost and having wolf-dreams, he so cutely called them,
'No I won't go down that path.' She thinks, feeling mixed feelings when it comes to Jon.
"Daario, can you bring Missi." She asks with a dry voice, when she feels she won't throw up.
Drogo's coming home
Dull indigo eyes staring with confusion, hurt and betrayal as he watches her life's blood drip out of the corner of her mouth.
He didn't need ten years to know this was wrong.
He can see that as he watches destruction of the realm, the others might not have been a problem anymore, or so it would seem.
The realm was too bruised to settle under an unstable ruler. Jon was petting Ghost thinking of the past when he got the Raven from Bran informing him that the realm has descended into chaos with Dorne declaring independence and the Reach killing the Blackwater fellow and placing the Hightower's as their declared rulers.
The worst was word of Arya failing in her quest, Bran said her ship had been overtaken by a sea dragon.
Bran never said if she survived or not, but he'd liked to think his willful siste- cousin would be able to wiggle her way out.
Even if it's a fool's hope.
Sansa was overthrown after being fed up with her refusing to wed for an heir to stabilize her reign, a Karstark taking the name Stark through a forced marriage to Sansa to keep the name Stark alive knowing that a Stark can only hold the north without fail.
Sansa herself eventually became queen in name only, the words of Cersei being her montra as she plays with her children, "love your children for they will be all you have." Jon doesn't know why Bran added that but he can begrudgingly agree with her, even if she's a vile cunt.
He met his end wallowing in his own self pity, slowly fading from the freefolk into seclusion, the cold never reaching him, for he has been hollow and cold since he stuck the blade in his beloved's heart.
The last thing he remembers seeing was the eerie glow of wight coming towards him before he let himself be embraced by death, not caring for the people any longer.
After the way he had been discarded, after the way he discarded danny.
"So what's it like?" Jon flinches slightly at the voice of Sam, Jon still doesn't know how to feel about his friend.
The plump man returned from the citadel at his request hopefully before he found the documents of his heritage.
Why did he do all this?
Why did he cause a rift between his beloved?
Why didn't he mention the fact that his father was an oathbreaker? Jon may not like the way Daenerys uses her dragons for execution, but he can understand that Drogon is as much her sword as Longclaw is to him.
"It's, there's nothing." He lies.
He truly knows nothing, as his first love had alway teased him.
"There wasn't anything, I just remember waking on the table, the phantom pains of the blades still linger." He says pressing his hand on his chest, the freshness of the stabbing makes the way he killed Danny all that much more horrid in his mind. How could he do that to her? Even if she was lost, he should have dragged her back, like she did for him.
Jon still sees her beautiful self upon Drogo, the flames spurring the dead charging towards him and his men, who foolishly killed Viserion for a single wight.
"Ah, sounds dull." Sam says after a second, Jon can hear the dismay at how distant he has been lately, only speaking to Davos and Ghost, soaking up as much time with his loyal companion, but he doesn't have much energy to care.
"Aye, it is."
"Do you still love your family?" Jon asks after a few moments of silence turning to look at his plump moon-faced friend.
He can see the surprise in Sam as he asks,"Huh?"
"It's just," he trails off looking out towards where he knows the night king will march. "Do you still care for them, despite the fact that they let you be shipped off to the other side of the realm? In this shit shack."He asks, not judging him if he does, Jon himself still loves his family despite the rage he feels at their actions.
"Uh, sure, I mean. Even though father isn't easy to please," here his friend looked self-deprecating, "I know, I still think he loves me."
"I'm not going to amount to much, and I never wanted to be heir anyway." Here he shrugs.
"But I think I wished my mother would have tried a little harder, I wouldn't have minded giving up my heirship just to be accepted." The watery tone in his friend makes him sigh.
"I can understand." Thinking of all the times he felt inadequate against Robb. "Forget about them, you should focus on Gilly, and little Sam." He states feeling melancholy as he faintly smiles at the naive man-child.
He'll alway be grateful for the companionship Sam offered while he was disillusioned to the grandness of the wall, but knows that he'll be more cordial.
He's a northerner and we remember.
'Danny, I won't fail you this time.' He thinks passing his beaming friend, who seems to soak in his attention, no matter how minuscule it is.
A/n:
I'm not sure if I did this chapter justice.
How will Danny cope with the warging, yes I am selfishly making her a warg, sorry not sorry, but she has like 25-50% Blackwood in her with her parents being siblings and their parents being siblings.
I mean the Starks have it in them, with a (great) grandmother I think. Then there's bloodraven who got his abilities through his Blackwood mother.
Danny is just as much ice and fire as Jon, it's just jon isn't a product of incest well an incested father, but still.
So idc if the timeline doesn't fit, but Jon is of the know after being "thrown" into his younger body, or merging with his younger-self.
With Danny, Kinvara made her live out the life she would have had, so it's similar in that they're still their young self, but they experienced a life that "hopefully for both of them." Won't happen.
Don't worry, it's not all sunshine and roses, for our two favorite targs.
no she didn't sleep with Daario(well in that way) she just finds comfort in his presence.
But if you want our Danny to whore it out, I mean could give her a harem (our girl deserves it) kidding.
