09x04, 'Painful Human Realities'
They stand in the council tent, debating the final war to come. Jon, Davos, Tyrion, Varys, Missandei, Grey Worm, Jorah. Not all of them know much about battles, but she's not fool enough to think that they don't have something important to contribute. They've all seen their fair share of war, one way or another.
Tyrion, most of all, seems moody and distracted, which is something that sits uneasily in her chest. The argument they have over the Kingslayer is fiery, neither wishing to back down. And this is what Dany has been afraid of most of all: that Tyrion still has loyalty to the Lannister name. Jaime, cocksure, had drawled that he would make a terrible bargaining chip now that Cersei had all but washed her hands of him, and Tyrion seemed desperate to agree. But she cannot shake the gnawing feeling that he's saying that more to protect his elder brother than anything else.
It's Jorah who breaks up the argument with quiet authority reserved for a battle commander: "I think we should leave the discussions here for tonight. We're all tired. We can continue this tomorrow when we all have clearer heads."
Left alone with Jorah, she grips the side of the war table, depicting strategies and troop movements for the clash with Cersei that is now just days away.
His hand descends on her back, comforting.
"I know," he murmurs. "I know."
She turns towards him: the half-light flickers across his face, throwing the tired lines, the sympathy, the affection into sharp relief.
It consumes her then, hotter than Drogon's flame.
The tenderness that wells up inside her is more than she has ever felt for anyone in her whole life.
She understands it for the first time as she looks upon his dear, dear features. For the first time she's truly conscious of what's been inscribed onto her heart for a very long time.
She's in love with Jorah Mormont. Her confidante, her lord commander, her best friend.
The miasma of conflicting emotions must show on her face.
"Khaleesi?"
He can't be here right now. Everything feels too big, too overpowering.
"You need to go," she murmurs.
He looks more concerned, but doesn't argue, melting away into the night.
Truly alone, she sinks to the floor, hands moving to cradle her head.
She loves him.
Could she have possibly chosen a worse time to comprehend this thing that's been between them for years? When they're about to head off into war and there's no time to properly process this momentous realisation?
What if he never comes back, she thinks, taken from her for good just like the Night King threatened to do? She had never experienced pain like it, and back then she hadn't understood the magnitude of the things she felt for him.
If he was to perish now, winning her kingdom…well, no throne in the world could ever replace him, nor would any kingdom be able to oppose her fury and grief.