08x01, 'Winterfell'

"I want to meet this man who saved you. Thank him with all of my heart for returning you to me." Daenerys squeezes Jorah's arm for emphasis, enjoying the bashful smile that fleetingly crosses his face before he smooths it away into taciturn neutrality.

They make their way through the draughty Winterfell corridors.

"You know your way around," Daenerys notes.

"Hardly. I've only been to Winterfell a few times because the Starks are our liege lords."

"It's all so foreign to me," she confesses. "And it's so cold…"

He chuckles. "You're a creature of fire. You were never going to like the temperatures."

And she's received a frosty reception from Sansa Stark and the rest of Jon's family. Even despite their earlier diversion, sharing her love of flight with the man she loves, she cannot shake the feelings of displacement. Jon pretends to understand, but he doesn't really. He loves it here. He's glad to be back. He is part of the north.

"How do you find being back?" she blurts before she can stop herself.

"It's difficult to explain. Nothing is the same, not really. Not even the faces. Half of the north was wiped out fighting Robb Stark's war, the other by the Boltons."

She doesn't know what she'd expected to hear; perhaps a selfish part of her had wanted to hear that it wasn't as wonderful as he'd always remembered, so that she would feel less alone in this vast, unforgiving place.

She's become so used to Jorah sharing her beliefs. It wrongfoots her to think that he might have different feelings, a longing that runs as deeply in his blood as the roots of the strange weirwoods.

"I'd built this moment up so much," he confides, "that I think it was impossible for it to ever meet those expectations. I've dreamt of this for so long…"

Their voices echo back through the years.

"What do you pray for, Ser Jorah?"

"Home."

"And?" she prompts gently.

"And now I'm not sure this place feels like home anymore."

Her hand closes around his wrist, a commiseration, a relief.