Chapter 23: Moments

Daenerys opened her eyes the next morning and was greeted by the sight of Jorah's skin - broad shoulders and back, gently rising and falling as he slept.

Thinking of the night before made her grin and she indulged in a secret smile. It had been everything she hoped for and more. He was gentle but passionate and took care of her in every way. She stretched, feeling deliciously sore from their activities. After their initial coupling and whispered exchange of 'I love you's', they had fallen asleep in each other's arms and woken in the middle of the night to do it over again. Daenerys couldn't keep her hands off of him and it sent a tingle right between her legs to know he wanted her just as much. Even then, looking at him sleeping peacefully besides her, she wanted him.

But more than that, she never wanted him to leave her side. She meant it when she said she loved him. It had happened fast, but she had never felt so sure of anything – it was real.

She had the sudden urge, deep inside of her, to want to tell the world. She could so easily do it – she would be in front of cameras later that day. She could say anything – claim him right then and there. It was a strange sense of possession and pride that washed over her.

Daenerys gently reached her hand over to rub his back, feeling his warm skin and tracing her fingers along some of the scars she didn't yet know the stories to. In the early morning light, he looked peaceful and she snuggled closer to him, wrapping her arms around him from behind and resting her head against the gingery curls at the nape of his neck. She breathed him in. He smelled like he always did - like a forest after a heavy rain. But he also smelled like her now, from sleeping in her bed, and she liked that more than she could articulate.

"Good morning Princess." Jorah slowly rolled over onto his back and took in the sight of Daenerys with her arm now draped over his chest. It took his breath away for a moment to see her like that. She looked the epitome of a woman who had an enjoyable night, with her hair mussed and flakes of mascara under her eyes - and she looked genuinely happy. It made his heart soar.

"Good morning." She replied, almost shyly. They didn't need to speak to tell each other how much the previous night had meant to them. To Daenerys, it had been a dream – fantasy made reality of how she hoped she would fall deeply in love with someone. For Jorah – it was a sliver of hope, and a glistening memory he could hold onto forever if things didn't work out.

With a look that caught her off-guard and made her stomach clench in anticipation, he leaned over to kiss her – lazily but thoroughly - as they both hovered in that beautiful space right after sleep. "I need to get up."

"You don't..." Daenerys whispered when he pulled away and got out of bed. Her eyes followed his body as he bent over to pick up his pants from the ground and she pouted when she could no longer see a few of her new favorite assets of his.

"I do, and so do you. We all have another busy day ahead of us. And something tells me you'll lure me back into your bed soon enough." Jorah looked back over his shoulder at her as he buttoned up his shirt, just wanting to be presentable enough to leave her room and walk down the hallway. Daenerys liked the playfulness in his tone and the boyish smirk on his face that told her he was as happy as she was.

"Is that not something you want?"

Jorah almost gave up – wanting so badly to get back into the bed with her and spend the day there – especially when she looked so enticing with not a stitch of clothing on, "Of course I do. But you need to eat breakfast and I need to coordinate some things with Captain Lannister." His tone turned more business-like as he returned to formal titles. He still had a job to do, a job he never wanted to fail her in.

"Is it okay if I tell you that I love you again?" Daenerys asked and the sweetness in her voice stopped him in his tracks. Their exchange of those words the night before had been monumental for him, but he had also been willing to pretend like it had never happened if she was so inclined. The sudden vulnerability of the Princess made him retrace his steps and sink to his knees at her bedside.

"It is more than okay, Daenerys, if you mean them."

"I do." She nodded and he looked at the ground, bashfully, "And it scares me."

"I feel the same," Jorah took her hand and squeezed it, "But in my experience, the things that have scared me have always been the most worthwhile."

~o0o~

"I could get used to this..." Sansa raised her arms above her head and stretched, naked as the day she was born, in front of the french doors that led out to a balcony in Petyr's room. Petyr didn't spare her a second look – he knew no one beyond a few guards might see her, as that window faced the inner, private courtyard of Buckingham Palace.

And beyond that, he was angry with her. He had his nose buried in the morning paper as she headed to the breakfast spread that had been brought in for both of them, with the maid sworn to secrecy about Petyr's guest. All of the staff were so afraid of him, he knew without a doubt that his secret would be kept.

It was far from the first time Sansa Stark had stayed at the Palace in his suite, but with how he felt that morning, it could be close to her last.

"You shouldn't." Petyr snapped back, not taking his eyes off of the words in front of him.

"And why is that? I have you – and one day soon I'll be married to Viserys and this entire place will be mine. And I guess that means you'll work for me..." Sansa giggled as she bit into some fruit. Her entitlement finally caused him to fold the paper and set it down.

"I need a Stark as Royal Consort. Any Stark. And right now, that Stark is your brother." Petyr replied and her face fell. He could tell she was backtracking to figure out what she had done or said wrong.

"You promised I'd marry Viserys..."

"And do you want to marry him, Sansa, really?"

"Well...no..." she crossed her arms, hiding her breasts from him, and went to get a robe to put on.

"What is it that you do want, Sansa, because it isn't him and it isn't me...?" Petyr's jealousy came out in his tone. Other things may have been going well for him, but his love life wasn't one of them.

"What do you mean by 'it isn't you.'"? Sansa asked, now covered, and she sat down on the edge of the bed to face him.

"You talk in your sleep, Sansa. And last night, you were very vocal." Petyr sighed, his eyes boring into her. A flush came to her cheeks.

"What...I don't..." she stammered, stalling, her mind racing to come up with a good excuse.

"Oh. Captain. Mormont." Petyr spat out each work, mocking her, "I know you and I had plans, Sansa. But I also thought I meant something more to you than just a stepping-stone to your top tier royalty aspirations."

Sansa got up and went over to him, "Petyr, you do..."

He could tell she was desperately trying to fix it, and although he could tell part of her was sincere, most of it was clearly to save face. It didn't matter – he knew how to shut her up.

"What makes you think that Jorah Mormont wants anything to do with you?"

~o0o~

"Quite a moving speech in there, Prime Minister..." Lord Varys, the Liberal Democratic party leader in the House of Commons and one of Tyrion's closest friends both inside and outside of politics, said quietly with a smirk.

Their afternoon session had just let out and Tyrion walked as fast as his shorter legs could carry him, not wanting to be stopped by anyone. Varys, though, he needed to talk to.

Tyrion grumbled under his breath, "Let's wait...your office..."

They maneuvered through the hallowed halls of Westminister Palace, politely nodding to those they passed until they were safely in the confines of Varys' small office.

"Fuck..." Tyrion sighed. "Do you have something to drink?"

"It gets worse...and yes, for you and you only..." Varys moved to a small cabinet behind his desk and pulled out a decanter of whiskey as well as a glass. He poured and handed it to Tyrion who gulped it back and asked for another.

"My God, just tell me what you know!" Tyrion pleaded.

Usually the sessions within the House of Commons were lively and a forum for members from all parties to have their voice heard – about their districts and their people and the problems they deemed important. But a ripple was going through Parliament – a ripple that Tyrion had anticipated since Rhaegar's death. Conservatives, Labour, Liberal Democrats – they all brought up the same thing – abolishing the monarchy.

Their arguments were largely the same.

It was high time for a change

The monarchy is archaic!

The Targaryen's have had their day

We need a democracy

But the one that came up over and over again in every possible iteration was -

King Aerys is old. Viserys will be King soon – he'll ruin England

Tyrion was privy to every thought and argument in the Commons, but not to the House of Lords. Varys technically wasn't either, but he was unofficially known as 'The Lord of Whispers'. He knew all the important conversations and everything about everyone. Tyrion didn't know how he did it, nor did he really care – but the man was invaluable to him.

"It seems that the House of Lords has similar sentiments to the House of Commons. Of course, nothing outright was expressed when King Aerys opened the session, but after he left..." Varys sighed and Tyrion waved his hand, encouraging him to keep talking.

"Abolishing the monarchy?"

"Some..." Varys continued, "Traitors the lot of them, considering they got their positions in the first place because of the King. No – most talked about a re-structuring."

Tyrion nearly growled, "We can't fucking abolish the monarchy and we sure as hell can't bloody restructure it! What does that even mean? We have a King or a Queen and my God it works! For fuck's sake look at America..."

"The Lords have their doubts about the line of succession. Changing it was brought up. As was changing the ruling family entirely..." Varys sat down at his desk and shuffled through some papers, completely calm as Tyrion paced back and forth.

"That's never been done. And what was the reasoning?"

"That Viserys is unfit to be King. None of this would even be a conversation if Price Rhaegar was still alive."

"I know Prince Viserys is a prick. And an idiot. But England has survived worse. Baelish runs the show anyway." Tyrion could believe this with the Commons – there were always wild ideas running about there. But the House of Lords? The leaders of which knew Aerys or the Royal Family personally? It was unfathomable, "And who started the conversation about a re-structuring?"

Varys looked at his friend, "None other than Leader of the House, Lord Edmure Tully..."

~o0o~

Gendry got out of the passenger seat of the car first so that he could capture Daenerys stepping out of the backseat.

Their other visits that day hadn't been attended by the public. But this afternoon was the moment of the day that Gendry knew would be on the cover of every paper in Britain the next morning – he had to get the perfect shot.

People yelled and cheered for her. There was a guard rail outside of the building that kept the public at bay, but it didn't stop them from throwing bouquets of flowers over at her. She gave them smile after smile, even though all of them knew she was trying to hold back tears.

Flanked by Grey and Captain Mormont, the Princess ascended the steps to the entrance of the brand-new Children's Hospital in Huambo to meet some of the doctors and staff awaiting her there.

They thanked her for coming, but she insisted that they were the ones that needed to be thanked.

Gendry started to arrange the shot. He was generally quiet and spoke very little – preferring the camera speak for him. Not that anyone balked at the royal photographer – and so he positioned them all. The two doctors, the three nurses, and the Princess.

Another hospital staff member brought out the sign that they would all hold together – a large banner inscribed with 'Prince Rhaegar Targaryen Memorial Children's Hospital' in Portuguese and English. It would be hung above the entrance until it was officially etched into the stone there.

Gendry backed up to get the right framing. The light was perfect – he wouldn't need to edit anything. He was about to count down when he saw Daenerys' grip loosen on her side of the banner. She let it fall as the others looked at her and she pressed the back of her hand to her cheek to soak up a tear. He took a photo anyway.

But then she turned and Grey was immediately at her side. But it was Captain Mormont she turned to. Gendry was a few meters back, but he saw everything. His eye was trained to capture every little detail. And there were details he had been ignoring during the tour. But this one was too obvious.

"I can't". He read Daenerys' lips as she looked up at the Captain's face.

The hospital staff waited patiently, with smiles on their faces, but Gendry was too focused on the way that Captain Mormont's fingers stretched at his side, clearly wanting to reach for her hand, then recoiled. He let the camera catch it.

"You can..." he read the words easily as they fell from the Captain's lips. Daenerys sniffed and then turned back, grabbing her side of the banner. She was all-smiles again.

"Three...two...one..." Gendry counted. He took the picture that would be seen around the world. But that wasn't the most important one he took that day.