WARNING SPOILERS for S8E3.

Disclaimer: I write for fun, no copyright infringement intended. It all belongs to the author of the books and the writers of the show.

Bound to the Dragon Queen

Chapter One

Her body was still oddly numb as she walked out to the pyres, many already burned but there was one who she would not allow the Northerners to touch. Ser Jorah Mormont had sacrificed his life for hers, had he stayed in the castle to fight he might still be alive, but she would almost certainly be dead.

His sword, his ability as a warrior and his loyalty had been the difference in her life so many times before. For years he had been by her side, even when she banished him, his heart never left her cause; he had risked her fury to return with a valuable asset.

Today her advisors shied away even as the Northerners who were so wary of her dipped their heads as she passed; did they acknowledge the difference her forces had made in this war? As she approached the last pyre Jon Snow fell in beside her, Daenerys glanced at him; there was so much left unsaid between them. But today she did not have the strength.

She did not have the strength for what she had to do, but she could not dishonor his memory by leaving it to another. No, Jorah Mormont had been born in the North and perhaps had longed for it but he had made her his home and so she would send his mortal remains on; praying he had found peace beyond.

What was left of her forces stood assembled beyond the pyre and with them stood a small group of men, one carried a banner with a standing bear; those men had come from another pyre. And a part of her was touched that they still came to remember their former lord, had any of them known him then? Did they understand that whatever he had done in the past he had redeemed himself?

Overhead her dragons circled, their wings tipping as they dropped lower; Jorah's strength was part of the reason they were alive too. Who would have stolen them when they were just babies had she not had a noble knight by her side? When most of the people who followed her were former slaves and unable to fight there had been one man whose sword was always ready.

The only time she had lost them had been the time she sent him away, while he found her a ship their vulnerability had been used; certainly, others would have tried as well. She remembered how he had fashioned one of his shoulder straps into a perch for her children to use, Daenerys had loved that they could ride on her shoulder; it had been years before Drogon first carried her.

Drogon had folded himself around them on that battle field, her children knew what she had lost, she suspected they had a better sense of what she had lost than any other. She had chosen the blood sacrifice that allowed their birth, that brought dragons back to this world; but it was Jorah who took it to that pyre. And Jorah was the first kneel, to recognize what she was; to see the dragon within her.

The pyre was low, built in a Westrosi fashion and Jon Snow stepped close as she stared at the body of her faithful friend and advisor. She turned to glare at him, he had hardly known Jorah, but the man held out his hand. Daenerys swallowed her anger, it was a kind gesture and took his hand, climbing up to kneel beside Jorah's body.

They had washed him and fixed his armor, his eyes closed now; her heart had broken as she watched life leave those warm blue eyes. Tears welled in her eyes and as she tried to brush them back a few drops fell, striking his cheek and then his breast plate as she pulled back, she had already let many fall onto him. Embarrassed she reached out to wipe them away, though his cold skin broke her composure even more. Giving up she smoothed her palm over the armor, longing for him to stir; to call for her one more time.

"Here." Jon Snow offered her a piece of cloth, still standing behind her.

She shook her head, pressing her palm to his chest one last time; she knew she had to say goodbye. She had to lay him to rest, but she would never forget. His love and his will to see her on her throne had kept her alive more than once and his absence left a hole no one else would ever fill. Why had she not seen it before he lay dying in her arms?

Climbing down she started back to where a torch waited. But before she took ten steps Drogon screeched above and with Rhaegal landed directly in front of her; she heard the murmurs of concern from those just behind the dragons. But perhaps it was fitting, he had honored her as the Dragon Queen, and her dragons wanted to mourn him; perhaps in the only way they knew.

Jon Snow recognized what she intended and moved aside as Daenerys stood between her children, laying a hand on each before whispering the command. "Dracarys."

Twin branches of fire flew towards the pyre, quickly lighting the brush as she heard murmurs of how House Mormont was gone now, his cousin had also fallen in battle. She only closed her eyes, the North may have lost a proud house but she had lost so much more.

And then a hush fell, her dragons roared as if in triumph and launched themselves skywards; opening her eyes Daenerys gasped. There was movement in the flames, even before she could start forward she heard a scream; a shape struggling in the pyre.

Nearly tripping as she hurried forward she barely registered the cries of shock as she stepped into the pyre. His weight hit her hard as he struggled through the burning wood, Daenerys tried to pull him back, realizing the fire was hurting him and as they stumbled from the flames the uproar from those who had gathered increased.

"Lay him down. Get him in the snow." Jon and Ser Davos rushed forwards, helping her to ease him down.

Their cloaks covered him where what was left of his own was hurriedly pulled away; someone lay one over her own shoulders as well. But Daenerys could scarcely care how much her clothes were damaged, they rolled him in the snow as he struggled against them; eyes wide with confusion. But a mark on his chest caught her attention.

Where scars from greyscale had previously marred his skin only a few fresh scars remained, the ones that had killed him and another. It almost looked like a dragon in flight, red and sore but perfectly formed. She touched her fingers to it in awe, realizing the truth; her dragons' magic had done this.

...

A/N: I am still in denial, though it was a beautifully acted scene. Let me know what you think.