The sound of the waves against the ship lulled Ser Jorah in and out of the only sleep he'd had in days. His beard was in desperate need of a trim, and the grime on his arms and face seemed to make him look tanner than he actually was. The sun beat down on him and the Dothraki. The heat was not nearly as bad as in the Red Waste, but bad enough to make labor hard and sleep easy. The knight leaned against a barrel filled to the brim with leftover valuables gathered from Qarth. His boots were crossed, outstretched in front of him. Occasionally he would wake with a start, seek out the Khaleesi with his eyes, then fade back into his light sleep.

She was always there, in the back of his mind. She was his first priority. Her safety, her satisfaction. Sleep hadn't come easy to him since he swore himself to her. To obey her, to serve her, to protect her with everything he had. Sleep, it seemed now, was a waste of time. Or rather a selfish act. To take his eyes off of Daenerys for one moment had him feeling guilty.

Thunk, clang!

Ser Jorah woke instantly at the sound, turning to face the ruckus. Two of the Dothraki men were standing over another barrel of gold and silver plates, tipped over and spilling its guts onto the floor of the ship.

"It is not your place!" said one man to the other in his native tongue. "This gold belongs to the Khaleesi! It is not for you to shove in your selfish pockets!"

"Would it hurt to have us all get some gold to be prepared for this land we sail to?" replied the other, his hair much shorter than the other's.

"We Dothraki do not use money!"

"We used it to buy this ship!"

The two men drew their swords, and just before they brought the steel together, Daenerys stepped out from the cabin, pushing away the heavy horse hide.

"Stop it! Both of you! How do you expect to gain anything if you kill your own people!"

Ser Jorah was on his feet, making his way to her side. She looked to him, as if she had expected him to step in before she had. "Such is the Dothraki way," he said with a small shrug, though his eyebrows were knitted together. She had her point and they had theirs. She seemed to know it was pointless to argue before stepping back through the hide sheets. Ser Jorah looked to the men, who had put their swords away, neither one of them willing to anger their Khaleesi. He figured it was safe to follow her inside.

"My apologies, Khaleesi," he said. "I should have known to step in."

She was unlatching one of the dragon's cages, and the largest one, Drogon, climbed into her hand. She turned to him once he was secure in her arms. "You were with them long before I came along. I can understand why customs are hard to break," she said, rather distractedly. She ran a finger down Drogon's neck and he almost purred. "Here," she said, stepping close to Jorah. As usual, her closeness consumed him. She lifted each of his hands and brought them together before placing Drogon in them. Ser Jorah looked from the dragon to Daenerys. His eyes lingered on her probably a second longer than acceptable before looking back to the dragon in his hands. She pulled her hands away then, leaving him holding the creature on his own. "You know my dragons mean the world to me," she said. "And here you are. Holding one of them with your bare hands. This is how much I trust you and your judgment, Ser Jorah." His heart was thumping hard against his chest. He was afraid that if he looked at the Khaleesi again, he would never be able to look away. But he took that chance. She looked up at him with a small smile on her lips. "Never be sorry for not being able to read my mind, Jorah," she said softly.

"Khaleesi…," he almost whispered.

"It's alright," she said, misunderstanding the tone of his voice. She reached over to cup Drogon in her hands, and Jorah was relieved, only to have her place the creature upon his shoulder. Drogon screeched for a short moment before leaning in to press his head against Ser Jorah's beard, running it back and forth across the scruff. Daenerys smiled widely. "He likes you," she said.

"I think it is just the beard he likes, Khaleesi," Jorah replied. He couldn't help but let hints of a smile show on his own face. A rare sight.

She smiled wider before turning away from him. She placed her hands upon a withered desk and leaned on in. "Ser Jorah," she started, suddenly serious.

"Yes, Khaleesi?" he asked, trying to ignore the fact that the dragon was chewing on his hair.

She turned, looking him in the eyes. "I know that when we land, you will truly have no reason to follow me any longer." He waited, not sure where she was going with this. She stepped back up to him and placed her small hand on the side of his face. "I ask that you please stay…"

Ser Jorah looked into her eyes, and he had to blink several times to tear his eyes away. He took Drogon from his shoulder and handed him back to the Mother of Dragons, forcing her to drop her hand. "Please, Khaleesi. You don't have to- You don't…" he sighed out heavily, trying to find the words he wanted.

"I don't have to do what?" she asked, worried.

"You don't have to play games with me to get me to do what you ask," he finally said. "You know I will always be here for you. I made a vow and I never intend to break that vow."

"Games…?" she asked. "Is that what you think I'm doing? Playing games?" she started to raise her voice, but only because she didn't understand. There he was again, hurting her because he couldn't word things right around her. All because his head blurred in her presence.

"No, Khaleesi, that's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?" she asked.

There was a long pause as Ser Jorah looked at her. Finally, he took a deep breath. "I could never go against your wishes. I may advise you differently, but in the end, your word is my law. The way you look at me, the way you speak-" he stopped, checking himself. This isn't where he wanted to go with this. But he had already started. And now he couldn't stop. "You touch my face and suddenly there is no one else in the world but you. You must know," he said. "And you don't have to take advantage of that. I would do as you ask no matter what."

There was another long silence as Daenerys looked up into his eyes. She was thinking. He could tell. He silently cursed. That hadn't been what he wanted to say at all. He was just about to excuse himself when she reached out to take his face lightly in her hands, despite his speech. "Ser Jorah. My loyal Ser Jorah… If I have caused you pain, I am sorry."

"No, Khaleesi. It is an old wound," he replied. He remembered his heart tearing on several occasions when he saw her looking at Khal Drogo with loving eyes. But he remembered even more how much he wished he could wake the man from his braindead state, just to cure the pain so blatantly written over her face. His only wish was to see her happy. His own happiness was never in his thoughts.

She seemed to understand his meaning, and ever so gently, she leaned up, pressing her lips to his. His chest heaved once in surprise, but she had pulled away before he could give her any other kind of reaction. He looked to her, understanding that it was more a gesture of kindness than mutual feeling. "You have always been here for me," she said softly. "You do everything I tell you to, but you have never been given anything in return. Please, Ser Jorah, tell me what you want and you shall have it."

Jorah shook his head, hoping she wasn't suggesting what he thought she was. He took her wrists in his hands and pulled her own away from his face gently. "Serving you is the only thing I want. Seeing you happy is the only thing I want. And knowing that, even if only a little, I helped create that happiness…"

Daenerys smiled sadly, her brows pulled together. "You confuse me, Ser Jorah," she admitted. "Part of me wants to love you as much as you seem to love me." Jorah's heart seemed to stop altogether at that statement. Daenerys stepped up to the cages once more and put Drogon back inside. After latching the door, she turned once more to Ser Jorah. Neither of them seemed to know what exactly to say at that point, and after hearing some other kind of commotion outside, Jorah decided to take his leave. He bowed low before turning on his heel, his hand resting in the familiar spot on the hilt of his sword. When the horse hide fell behind him, Daenerys stared at the spot he stood in not moments before. Her face was hot and she willed her new found feelings to disappear. But they were like the heat. Unrelenting.