Interlude V—Season Six

Halfway through the day, Daenerys has a headache. It's something she will gladly bear for the privilege of her position, but sometimes it can be onerous listening to problem after problem and delicately balancing her decision without upsetting this group or that.

Jorah is here today.

Court has never been his forte—he chafes about the backstabbing and the simpering every time—but he is her consort as well as her lord commander and his presence is required sometimes whether he likes it or not.

It brightens her day to have him so close to her, stoic and steady; a glance in his direction is all she needs to reassure herself that she is doing the right thing. That's one thing about Jorah: he's never been able to hide his emotions from her, good or ill.

I need you by my side.

Those words echo through the years. They had been true even before she uttered them aloud.

Where would she have been now without him? If he'd perished on the Long Night? During the Last War?

She can't bear thinking about it. That dream she'd had in Winterfell still haunts her.

Dracarys!

My dreams come true.

Had that been a premonition averted?

Tyrion clears his throat, giving her a pointed look. Dany straightens, refocusing. They are worries long gone. Naught but smoke and shadows. Jorah is by her side. Real, solid.

Touchable.

Had they ever believed he would be again? When she'd set eyes upon the grey, cracking skin of his forearm, had she truly believed she would see him again?

If she's truly honest with herself, no.

But he'd fought to return to her. Even when she had banished him. He had followed her into the depths of the Dothraki Sea. Was there at her second rebirth, the return to her roots.

There could be no anger after the stubbornness of his persistence. Just an exhausted acceptance.

An inevitability of sorts.

She should have paid heed to that. Dothraki omens were revered.

Court continues. She listens to the concerns alongside Tyrion.

And Jorah stays quietly by her side.