Author's Note:

I seriously have no control over these two anymore. Originally, I thought I'd have them talk out their feelings in this chapter but just look what happened instead…

Thanks for reading! Your faves/comments always make me smile :)

Daenerys

In winter, dawn came late to Bear Island. The northern reaches hid from the sun in dark and cold corners, shivering and crouching in frost and snow. When the sun appeared, it stayed in the southern horizon, not adventurous enough to travel further north, where its pale rays might freeze solid, lashing it to the earth with glass-like bonds. But even timid, light is resilient and bleeds through the darkness, ripping tears in the black fabric of night.

It was still hours before sunrise, but a shade of indigo light was filtering in through the upper windows of Jorah's bed chamber. The beeswax candles had burned down to stubs in the night and the fire, while still lit, cast only a dull glow on a crescent portion of the stone floor before it. The light from the earliest hours was faint…but it was enough.

It was enough for Daenerys, as she lay against Jorah, to softly trace the marks she found on his chest with her fingertips. She had woken only a few minutes before. Jorah was still sleeping soundly, his breathing pattern following an easy rise and fall. They had fallen asleep entangled, her legs hooked around his, his arm looped around her waist, the top of her head tucked beneath his jawline, nestled against his shoulder.

She traced his old scars with care. She didn't want to wake him. Their coupling had lasted into the deepest pockets of night. Once begun, they couldn't stop, both giving in to every impulse of fevered desire, again and again. Only sweet exhaustion drove them finally to sleep, and Daenerys found herself drifting into dreams on the contented sigh of Jorah's soft endearments whispered quietly at her ear.

Upon waking, the afterglow of passion still simmered within her and she bit her lip gingerly, suppressing a sudden curve of smile at what had passed between her and her bear knight in the darkest hours. His chest remained bare except for where waves of her silver blond hair spilled over him. Those same scars that had captured her interest in that cabin in the charred ruins of the Wolfswood were still written on his skin. She had held her hands back before but this time, he was hers to explore. All hers.

The idea sent her pulse racing. She found her fingers were now acting of their own accord, tracing letters on his skin, spelling out the words of love she hadn't yet said aloud. Afterwards, she laid her palm flush against him, closing her eyes briefly, restful, listening to Jorah's steady heartbeat.

She must have fallen back asleep, for when she opened her eyes again, the light in the room had grown a shade or two lighter. Still not yet dawn, but ever closer. She almost wished it would delay its coming, as she was content to linger in this particular night for a while longer.

Daenerys felt Jorah's body shift slightly beneath her. She lifted her gaze and found him awake, looking down at her with a tender grin that acknowledged a hint of mischief. She answered with her own smile, one that spoke of playfulness and shared secrets.

"Good morning," he rasped quietly. His voice was well suited to the hush of those hours before dawn. The arm that he'd looped around her in the night wandered, his hand moving up and down her soft curves languidly. She turned into the caress, shifting closer until she was nearly sprawled over him.

"Good morning," she whispered back, wondering how those two little words had taken on such grander ambitions. For as she said the last syllable, she found herself biting her bottom lip again, vainly trying to suppress that transparent smile that refused to abandon her features. Jorah laughed quietly at her futile efforts. Daenerys loved the uncommon sound of his laughter and her smile only deepened as the quiet laugh rumbled through his chest.

They should talk, she knew. There was much to say. Much to untangle and discuss, about the past, about the future…

But she was already kissing him again, and he was kissing her back. Not the insatiable kisses of the night before, but slower, more careful kisses, more appropriate to the early hour. She played at the corner of his mouth, the stubbled whiskers of his beard tickling her lips pleasantly. He brought her back from the edges by teasing her tongue forward, until they both fell into the kiss once again.

He gathered her up and she found she fit snugly against him, the contours of her body perfectly shaped to fit with his. She liked to feel him near…though how inadequate a sentiment that was, when compared to the feelings swirling and sparking throughout her body and soul.

Jorah had always been there, she knew, by her side. And she had never wanted it any other way. Not from the moment she met him. From the beginning, she needed him close and never felt at ease unless she knew he was there, at the door, in the room, watching over her, guarding against the entropic whims of a capricious world.

She just hadn't known why.

She knew others had thought her cruel and selfish. They thought she took advantage of Jorah's obvious devotion, without giving him much in return. But it wasn't that. She would swear it before all the gods and mean it too. The distraction of war and conquest had made it impossible for her to confront her own feelings with any clarity. All she knew was that she wanted Jorah near. She remembered that well enough. His absence, above all the others, had filled her with such hollow emptiness and dread.

She hadn't known, not until that terrible, terrible moment in the Pyramid at Meereen when she snatched her hand away from his and then watched him walk away…perhaps forever. The anger of a dragon kindled so quickly, burning so fast and hot. But it cooled quickly too, in an icy blast of winter-frost, and she remembers the dread-worn feeling that rippled through her breast as he left, as if she'd cut out half of her heart and thrown it at his feet.

But she had to be strong. She had to be a Queen.

Queen of the ashes and a doomed country of dead men…

She supposed it was just as well. If she had reconciled her own feelings sooner, if she had dared let herself fall for her sweet bear sooner, would her dragons have been born? Would Slaver's Bay have been liberated? Would the Night King have been defeated?

No, I would have run away with you to the edge of the world. Everything else be damned.

Later, she would wonder what might have happened to them if she had. She would imagine living with him in a small cottage on a sapphire sea, with lemon trees sprouting up in lush gardens surrounding a house with a red door. Would the snows, when they finally came, have been able to reach so far?

Maybe. She didn't know and, presently, she didn't care. Even with all the past mistakes and missed chances, she was currently in his arms. And as it was, there was no other place in the world she'd rather be.

Jorah broke their kiss for a moment, those blue eyes searching hers with unspoken thoughts of his own. The way he looked at her made her cheeks bloom with color and her body go weak with anticipation. He adored her. It was written all over his rugged features. He reached up his free hand and traced the side of her face gently, brushing against her cheek bone, cupping her chin, his thumb running over her swollen lips softly, before being replaced with his own lips once again.

There was something in his kiss that excited her beyond rational thought. Sure, some part of her could still recall that this was Jorah Mormont. Her most trusted advisor, her most valued general, her dearest friend. He knew her better than anyone else in the world. And she knew him the same. They could trade ten thousand shared memories. But somehow, in this bed, she was discovering him for the first time.

And gods, she liked what she found.

Her feeble efforts to repress her present desires were quickly overruled. Her pulse quickened and the inside of her thighs went as damp as hours ago. He felt the unspoken need, as he moved down her throat with a line of kisses, coming to rest near the jumping vein at her collar bone. She couldn't manage a word, but they were speaking through senses and he answered her silent request with pleasure.

With that same bear strength that always thrilled her, he shifted them again, changing their positions smoothly. She had her arms wrapped around his neck, burying her head against his shoulder, as she knew she might call out his name before they were finished and certainly didn't want to be responsible for breaking the austere dignity of House Mormont.

Not at such an early hour.

Jorah didn't keep her waiting long. The frenzied passion of last night gave way to a deeper, after-burn ardor that had Daenerys grasping at coherence blindly, her body moving of its own accord, rhythmic and ravished, filled with the same pulsing energy that might fuse two stars together. Where he began and she ended, she couldn't say. She knew nothing but the scent and sensation of her lover and she succumbed to it, most willingly.

In the meantime, violet dawn finally crept over the horizon, signaling the beginning of a new day.