randomosity | [For Jorah] Secrets Beneath the Stars

[For Jorah] Secrets Beneath the Stars

Daenerys Targaryen had been married to Khal Drogo for some months now. She'd adjusted to the life of a khaleesi very well, but Daenerys was not drawn to her wedded husband. He was hard, unyielding and unfeeling. Khal Drogo knew nothing of softness and compassion - the Dothraki had no use for such things. While Daenerys valued a man of strength and a commanding presence, she also needed that soft touch every once in a while.

She found solace in Jorah the Andal.

He was kind, and they spoke often of the Seven Kingdoms and the world she had been forced to leave behind. The world she would retake when she returned to Westeros. Daenerys was happy to be able to have that kind of intellectual stimulation in Jorah Mormont.

But more and more lately, she found her eyes lingering upon his form longer than they should. She found herself wondering what it would be like to peel back the dusty layers of his clothing and leathers to let them fall to the sand beneath their feet. It was those times that she separated herself from him, fearful of what she might do or say. There was many a night that, as Drogo fucked her and even afterward, she thought of Jorah and what it would feel like to lie beneath him or sit atop him. But of course she was married and could not entertain such a thought - Drogo would likely kill Jorah for Daenerys even thinking of it.

So she said nothing, and focused on minor day-to-day tasks. This particular evening, Khal Drogo and the majority of his men had ridden out for an evening hunt. Daenerys sat outside her tent, and couldn't help watching with interest as Jorah sparred with one of the few men who had been left behind. She could see how his shirt was drenched in sweat and clung to his muscular form. Daenerys excused herself and retired to her tent after watching the exchange for a long while. She felt her control slipping.

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The khalassar, normally abuzz and whooping and hollering when a fight or challenge broke out, was dead silent. Drogo glared, and wasted no time slashing his blade to make an attempt at Jorah's throat. The Andal blocked the attack, but Drogo pushed against him, knowing he bested Jorah in size and physical strength. He tried to grab Jorah's dominant hand, in which he wielded a sword, to try and disarm him of the weapon. Daenerys only moves out of the way, fearful of what would become of Jorah if Drogo reigned victorious.

Jorah heard the quiet and knew that this was no normal challenge. Even his blood riders did not seem interested in supporting their Khal. Jorah easily blocked the slice from the Arakh and was not surprised when Drogo moved in. Jorah used the momentum of the larger man to flip him over his head and send the mighty Khal to the dirt upon his back. Jorah did add some strength to knock the wind from Drogo and stun him a bit. Jorah kicked the arakh away and held his blade to Drogo's throat. He said nothing as he waited for Drogo to decide his fate. Jorah would end him if he made another attack. He would not give him the opportunity to rearm himself.

Jorah had bested the great Khal Drogo. He knew the Khal would rather die than cut his braid and live a life of shame. Jorah was leaving how he died to Drogo himself.

Drogo had never been bested by another man. He was mortified that the man which beat him wasn't even Dothraki. Darkly he glared up at Jorah, enraged and humiliated. He kicked the sword up and tried to tackle the other man. Daenerys had to tumble out of the way, and cried out in surprise and horror as the men continued to fight. She knew if Drogo could get his hands around Jorah's throat, he was dead.

Jorah saw the humiliation in Drogo's eyes. He allowed his sword to be kicked away. He quickly drew a small knife and as Drogo tackled him, he slid the blade between his ribs and straight through his heart. He pulled the blade out and rolled the heavy body off of him as Drogo soasmed for a few moments before dying. Jorah slowly stood over the dead Khal and looked around the Khalassar. He was looking to see if the bloodriders would fall upon their swords or not.

Daenerys saw it all. She saw Drogo tackle Jorah, she saw the flash of metal and the red that spilled on the dirt as both men fell. She screamed, and covered her hands with her mouth.

But then Jorah rose. He stood over Khal Drogo's dead body and looked to the surrounding Dothraki. She glanced among them, unsure what to do. Slowly she rose, and called out to them in their native tongue.

"Dothraki, this man has defeated your khal in open battle," she began. "Khal Drogo died with honor, as a man should. Will you follow the man who bested him honorably? Or will you abandon him? The gods punish those who live without honor, don't forget."

Clearly there were many hesitant to kneel before a man not of Dothraki blood. But combat law was combat law. Many bowed to Jorah Mormont.

Jorah saw as they slowly began to bow in a sign of respect. He nodded as he also spoke in Dothraki. "He was a great warrior. He will be honored with fire in death." He said. Referring to the funeral pyre the Dothraki used to honor their dead. Danaerys would need to light the pyre herself. Jorah would be with her, but they would still need to be secret with their relationship until enough time had passed for it to not be considered suspicious.

Daenerys felt terribly guilty. Khal Drogo had been a good, just ruler for the Dothraki. And she had killed him. She had not put the blade in his heart, but she had been the catalyst to his killing. Daenerys watched with tears in her eyes as the Dothraki prepared his funeral pyre. She wanted to purge all memories of her marriage to Khal Drogo, so she had her servants take her dragon eggs, that she had received as a wedding present, into the pyre.

Then, dressed in a gossamer gown of lavender satin, Daenerys approached the pyre. Tears streamed down her face, but no Dothraki stopped her. To them, it was the only honorable thing to do - to have the wife of the khal end her life alongside her fallen husband's.

Jorah also felt guilty about killing the man. He was preparing himself for the funeral pyre by assisting with the building. He watched as the flames rose, but did not see Darnerys until she was halfway to the flames. He ran out to stop her and he had to shield himself from the brightness and the heat. "Khaleesi...." He said. He had done what she asked if him. He did not understand why she was going to throw it all away.

Then the tears fell for Jorah. She had been the undoing of two great men. Neither of them deserved this. She was bad for them; nothing but trouble. Daenerys looked to Jorah as she cried. She gave his arm a squeeze and leaned up to lightly kiss him. "I'm so sorry..." she whimpered before stepping away, towards the pyre. Daenerys gave one lasting look over her shoulder to Jorah before stepping into the fire.

Jorah knew that kiss was not good. He stumbled back when she walked away from him and fell to his knees. He watched as the woman he loved walked to her own death as well. Why was he destined to be tortured by the gods so? He finally thought he had found a woman he loved who truly loves him in return.

The fire burned for the remainder of the evening and all throughout the night. When the sun rose in the morning, there were chatterings and whispers among the Dothraki - at first. Those whispers turned to cries of surprise and screams of fear.

Daenerys sat up from the ashes, naked - save for the three dragon babies that cooed and growled as they rested on her shoulders.

She was alive. She couldn't believe it. Daenerys looked up to Jorah with wide violet eyes - unsure what to do, unsure if she could truly move.

Jorah hadn't slept. He had remained on his knees and in tears as he watched the flames burn. He had not heard her scream and he had hoped she had inhaled the flames and died quickly.

He had eventually stood with the intention of shifting through the ashes to find something to keep as a reminder of her. He had heard the baby dragons, but did not realize what they were. He froze when he spotted movement. His breath caught when he saw three dragons perched upon her shoulders. She was alive!

Joy and relief flooded Jorah. He fell to his knees again as he once again beheld her beauty. "You are blood of the dragon." He said astounded.

Daenerys was still dazed. She looked around and when her violet eyes fell on Jorah, she felt them well up with tears. Tears of joy and relief and the incredible satisfaction of seeing his face. The gods had spared her. She had walked into the flames fully intending to burn alongside the husband she'd wronged.

And the gods had let her walk away unscathed.

Slowly she stood, a little wobbly, like a newborn foal. But she stood. The dragons cooed, and she was a little surprised. She reached up and stroked the white dragon's head. Then it occurred to her how real they were. Real, flesh and blood dragons. She looked to Jorah and reached down, tipping up his chin to look into his eyes, and coax him to rise.

"The gods have spoken, it seems," she smiled. They wanted her to live; they wanted her to lead.

Jorah was stunned and he looked up at her with pure love and devotion. He nodded his head. "Indeed they have. I will be forever thankful." He said slightly choked up that she was indeed alive and well. "I will follow you wherever you desire to go." He swore.

Daenerys smiled and looked from Jorah to the Dothraki.

"I went to join Khal Drogo in death beyond the stars, but the gods demand that I remain here," she spoke to them in Dothraki. "Will you follow me across the great water? Will you follow the daughter of dragons...the mother of dragons?"

The Dothraki erupted into cheers and they rattled their weapons in the air.

Jorah nodded and cheered as well at her proclamation. He remained where he was until she said more or gave a command.

Daenerys turned to Jorah and approached him slowly. She was still naked, so she shivered a little. But Daenerys reached up and stroked over her Dragons again. "They're real," she whispered in disbelief.

Jorah stood as she approached. He nodded in agreement before stripping off his shirt and offering it to her as a temporary cover. "They are indeed. You are now the mother of dragons." He said.

She smiled and wrapped his shirt tighter around her. One hand rested on his arm as she looked up to him. "I'm tired, love...will you carry me to our bed?" She intended to share her bed with him from this moment on.

Edited 2016-08-18 03:21 (UTC)

Jorah immediately reached out to steady her as she moved close. His eyes filled with love and devotion as he nodded his head. "I would be honored." He said before easily sweeping her off of her feet and carrying her towards his tent. Her old tent had been prepared for mourning. He was not going to take her there.

He did not flinch from the dragons as they scampered over both of their bodies.

The dragons moved to allow Jorah to lift her. Daenerys cuddled in against his chest. She kissed his neck instinctively and closed her eyes. "Thank the gods I have you," she whispered.

Jorah smiled brightly to her as he took her within his tent and closed the flap behind him. He set her down upon his bed before quickly getting her a cup of cool water. He imagined that she would be quite thirsty. "Thank the gods you are safe." He said lowly before kissing her forehead tenderly.

Daenerys settled against the bed as he set her down. When she was settled, the dragons scurried and began to play and wrestle on the bed. Daenerys greedily drank the water, then looked up into his eyes. "I'm sorry...I went so willingly to the flames without thinking of how it would affect you..." she felt incredibly guilty.

Jorah joined her by sitting next to her on the bed and put his arm around her shoulders. "I'm just thankful that you are here." He said as he held her close.

Daenerys smiled and leaned into him. The dragons cooed and burrowed into the furs and leathers on the bed to keep warm. She buried her face against his neck and breathed deep his scent, his heat. "As am I." She brought a hand up and tilted his chin towards her so that she could lean up for a kiss.

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