Chapter Nine

A/N: Thank you to . 10 for reviewing the last chapter.

Jorah could hear the songs and chants echoing all through the camp, as the khalasar celebrated the recovery of their khaleesi. It had been a couple of days since Daenerys had awoken and the people, weak and hungry though they may be, had never been more lively than now. It brought a smile to his face each time the music swelled once more; through all of their hardships, it was Daenerys that gave them hope and happiness.

However elated he felt, though, the knight did not join in the festivities, choosing instead to stay by the queen's side as she recovered. She was gaining in strength with each day that passed, but still she was not yet back to her full strength. The dragons seemed to be helping her- Jorah had them brought to her bedside as often as was possible- and they shared their strength with their mother. 'With their help,' Jorah thought happily. 'She should be back to the fire-filled woman she was before the moon's turn.'

He had not eaten properly nor had he slept through the night since Daenerys had been taken ill, but found it far easier to remain awake once the woman had recovered the ability to hold a conversation. It was such a relief to hear her voice that the knight found himself guffawing at every joke, agreeing with every political insight and generally hanging on the young woman's every word. It embarrassed him greatly to react in such a way, but he could not help himself. Besides which, the queen did not seem to mind.

Having taken half an hour away from the khaleesi to ensure the guards knew what they were doing, Jorah hurried back towards her tent, as if he feared that his instructions had failed just moments after they were issued and she was in danger once again. Within a few moments, he was back inside the tent again and breathed a sigh of relief to see that Daenerys was safe and well.

The queen was lying on her bed, wrapped in layers of blankets despite the heat of the air outside. Her eyes were closed and her head had fallen to the side. 'Oh no.' thought Jorah, for she looked very much like she had done the night he had found her, poisoned in her bed.

Instinctively, Jorah ran to Daenerys' side and shook her firmly by the arm, willing her to wake from her slumber. 'After all I've come through to make her well, I cannot have failed her now.'

It seemed like hours, even years, before the khaleesi stirred and when she finally did, Jorah felt his heart soar with joy. For that awful moment, he had thought he had lost her again, just now that she had been returned to him. But she was fine and well, and there was nothing to fear any longer.

"Ser Jorah?" Daenerys asked, her voice heavy with sleep.

"My queen." he answered, his own voice no louder than a whisper. He had still not quite managed to regain his breath.

Drowsily, the young woman reached out her hand towards him; he tried not to be too eager when he took it in his own, though his heart soared with pride.

'She does not mean it in the way you wish she did, Jorah.' he told himself, the voice inside his mind sharp and cruel, reminiscent of the tone in which his father had admonished him for his wrongdoings over the years. 'She is lonely and hurting, and that is all you are to her. A hand to hold when the one she really wants rides in the Night Lands.'

Jorah all but winced. He thought of Khal Drogo so rarely now, even more so than when he had been alive, for now it was as if he were a bad dream that disappeared from memory soon after waking. 'He'll never disappear for her.' Jorah reminded himself, and he remembered the queen's love-filled gaze as her husband, her sun-and-stars, had promised her the throne she so desperately craved.

"I hear it was you who saved my life." Daenerys' gentle voice cut through his thoughts like the blade he kept close by his side- it always had done, truthfully, for whenever she called, he was there in a heartbeat.

"I did what I had to do, Khaleesi." he answered, bowing his head respectfully. He did not wish to take credit for resolving a situation he had also started.

"And I am grateful." the khaleesi persisted, seeming a little confused by the extent of his humility, although he doubted that she was surprised by it. "If you had not travelled so far and so fast on my behalf, then I would be dead. My people would have no leader and my dragons would have no mother. The people of Westeros would forever live under the tyranny of the Usurper, with no hope for a brighter future. All of this has been prevented by your courage, Ser Jorah, and I cannot thank you enough for what you have done."

"It was nothing, my queen." Jorah responded once more, still refusing to meet the young woman's eye. He did not wish to see the pride exuding those exquisite pools of violet that was pouring forth from her tongue, for he feared that she would see only guilt and sorrow reflected back at her.

Bowing deeply before Daenerys, Jorah decided that he would leave her to rest. After all, the more rest she had, the quicker she would be recovered, and then they could move once more through this retched desert. He could go home once more- that was all he had ever wanted. Until now.

Jorah did not know what had possessed him to do it. It was madness, treason, the most foolish action of a man so deeply in love. But the moment he reached the entrance of the tent, the knight found himself turning around once more, kneeling beside Daenerys' pallet and leaning in to kiss her.

'I do not care if I am killed for it.' he told himself, quite truthfully, as he felt his lips press against hers. 'So long as I have the chance to do this just once before I die.'

A/N: Please review!