Notes:

And finally, Part III. With 5,000 words it's the longest of the three parts. (I know, I am obsessed with word counts.)

Slight warning: There is one scene in Part III which is on the border to explicit. A lot is implied, but the explicit stuff is left to your imagination.

This three-part chapter started out very chaotic and all over the place. But I am quite happy with how it turned out in the end. Let me know what you think.

Thanks to angel897 for the review! Much appreciated.

Tyrion was waiting for Jorah outside the great hall. Daenerys had already returned to the feast.

"You two were outside for quite a while," Tyrion remarked when Jorah approached.

Jorah simply regarded Tyrion with annoyance.

"You are one lucky bastard to spend tonight with the most beautiful-"

In one swift movement, Jorah pulled out his dagger and held it to Tyrion's throat. "One more word and you will never speak again."

Tyrion took a step back and raised his hands in defeat. "Alright, alright. Easy."

Jorah sheathed his dagger. He didn't intend to harm Tyrion. He could take his insults. But as soon as it involved Daenerys, her Hand needed a lesson. He wanted to send a clear message to Tyrion that there was a definite line between insulting him and insulting Daenerys.

"Sorry about the bastard," Tyrion said. "Of course you are not a bastard. It's just a figure of speech, you know."

Jorah moved his hand back to his dagger. His patience was beginning to wear thin.

"Your humor is the worst of anybody I have ever met," Tyrion complained.

"I'd rather have no humor than your humor," Jorah replied.

"I do respect her. You know that, right?"

"Yes, I do. But your humor…" Jorah sighed. He didn't want to spend more time with Tyrion than necessary tonight. "I'll put it down to the wine."

Tyrion grinned at him sheepishly. "That's mighty good of you." Tyrion wasn't really drunk. At least not yet. He just liked to get a rise out of Jorah Mormont. It was so easy. And it was the only pleasure left to Tyrion. He really needed to take up whoring again. If they survived, Tyrion resolved, that would be the first thing he would do. But, if they survived this, Daenerys would eventually become Queen of Westeros. And a Hand whoring around would reflect badly on his Queen. And what would Sansa think? Damn it, what was happening to him that he cared about these things? Maybe he could be discrete. Yes, discreet whoring, that was a good compromise.

"What do you want?" Jorah asked impatiently.

"Straight to the point, as usual," Tyrion remarked. "You have managed to make yourself even less dispensable than before."

"I am dispensable."

"No, you are not. Not anymore. And you better start realizing that. I know you would die for our Queen without a second thought. But unless it's absolutely necessary, don't."

"She has persevered under the most dire circumstances. She is stronger than you think." Jorah had never seen her anything else but strong. Even in her greatest desperation Daenerys had turned her anger and sorrow into a force to be reckoned with. Every setback had only increased her determination. "And she managed fine without me before."

"You weren't dead," Tyrion said with exasperation.

"You are underestimating her. People have underestimated her since the beginning, starting with her brother."

"That may be. But you mean more to her than you think."

"She shouldn't depend on me."

Tyrion laughed. "I agree. But it's too late for that now. Somehow, with your brooding and stubborn nature, you managed to conquer our Queen's heart."

Jorah stayed silent.

"I've said it before," Tyrion went on. "Our Queen needs you. Get that into your thick head." The conversation made Tyrion think back to their farewell on Dragonstone's beach. "By the way, where is that coin I gave you? Did you lose it?"

"No. But I have to borrow it for a while longer," Jorah said.

Tyrion looked at him curiously. But when Jorah didn't offer any further explanation, he nodded. "Sure."

Daenerys closed the door. Jorah was sitting in front of the blazing fire. He had discarded his cloak and even his tunic. She walked over to him and sat down on the armrest, leaning against him and putting an arm around his neck. "It's nice and warm in here."

"I thought you might be cold after your secret meeting with Tyrion up on the wall."

"A little bit," she admitted. Then she looked at him and said, "I missed you."

"I was right by your side all evening."

"Too far away."

Jorah pulled her onto his lap.

What she really wanted to say was that she would miss him terribly. That she didn't want to spend her nights alone in this room, wondering if he was still alive. It would be the last night they would spend together for a long time, probably until the Night King was defeated, or until they were all dead. "Promise me you will be careful," she whispered.

"You are the one who needs to be careful. Now that the Night King has Viserion-"

She put her fingers over his lips. "Promise me, Jorah. I can't do this without you. I need you. And I don't mean as my general."

"You can do so much more than you think you are capable of. I've seen you grow and outdo yourself again and again. There is nothing you can't do."

"Because you believe in me."

"You've achieved so much without me."

"Jorah, promise me!"

He sighed. "You know I can't promise you that I won't-"

Again, she silenced him with her fingers. She didn't want to hear it. "I just want you to promise me that you will be careful and that you will do everything you can to come back to me."

"Always."

Daenerys should have been content with his answer, but the uneasiness she felt was still there. "You have a tendency to be reckless with your own life," she said, giving voice to her innermost fears.

"Reckless? When have I ever been reckless?"

"Volunteering in Meereen to fight their champion. Fighting in the pits to get my attention."

"In the fighting pits I had nothing to lose. And offering to fight Meereen's champion wasn't reckless." He grinned at her. "Besides, don't you think I would have won?"

"Jorah, I mean it. I know you are willing to give your life for mine. But I don't want you to."

He framed her face with his hands. "Do you really think I would rather die in glory than come back to you?"

Daenerys looked at him unsure.

"Don't you know by now that my honor means fairly little to me? That you are all that matters to me? Glory, fame, I had it all. And I lost it all. When I thought I couldn't sink any lower than being banished from Westeros, I sank even lower still. If there is an ounce of life left in me, I will come back to you." Jorah pulled out the coin and showed it to her. "Besides, I still owe this to Tyrion."

"What is it?" Daenerys asked.

"A coin. Payment for our enslavement."

"You still haven't told me that story."

"I guess I have to come back to tell it to you then." Jorah put the coin into her hand and closed her fingers around it.

"You do." Daenerys placed her lips against his, holding on to the coin tightly. With the other hand she started to loosen the fastenings of his shirt. When she was done, Jorah pulled it over his head. Daenerys stood up, placed the coin on the table and took off her coat. Next, she undid her braids until her hair was completely loose. Then she undressed until she stood in front of him completely naked, reminiscent of their first time together. Returning to where Jorah was still sitting, she let her hands roam across his naked chest. She simply stood there and held his eyes. Her heart was beating fast. "I love you."

"So do I." Jorah put his hand behind her neck and pulled her down to him, firmly pressing his lips to hers. Without breaking the kiss he rose from the chair. Sweeping her hair to one side, he abandoned her lips for her neck. Jorah was surprised how much heat her skin gave off. He should take her to bed, under the covers. But they were close enough to the fire to stay there for a moment longer.

Daenerys bent her head further to the side. She moaned softly when he found that particularly sensitive spot at the back of her neck. "Jorah…," she said breathlessly. Daenerys had wanted him all evening, especially after their encounter on the wall. Taking his face in her hands, she kissed him one more time. Then she took his hand and led him to the bed.

Jorah got rid of the rest of his clothes and joined her under the covers. He was drawn to her lips, which were slightly swollen already. He kept his kisses tender. At the same time he caressed her skin, slowly tracing an invisible path down her body. When his hand traveled from her stomach even lower, she grabbed his hand and stopped him. Jorah looked at her questioningly.

"Tell me what you want," she said.

"I want you."

"That I know," Daenerys replied with a tender smile. "I want to know what gives you pleasure." At times Jorah knew her better than she knew herself. There seemed to be no secret left when it came to her body. He knew exactly what gave her the most pleasure and was always willing to give. She mostly initiated their intimate encounters. And Jorah didn't seem to mind at all. But she wanted tonight to be about him.

Jorah regarded her with a mixture of amusement and puzzlement. Wasn't it obvious that he enjoyed their encounters just as much as she did? He wouldn't change a thing. Daenerys was passionate and eager, sometimes bordering on aggressive. But he didn't mind at all. He didn't mind if she took. Her enthusiasm excited him. It excited him that she wanted him so much, that she wanted him so often. And whenever Jorah took charge, Daenerys willingly gave herself to him. He loved when she lost control. "You give me pleasure. Every time we are together."

"But what do like?"

"I like to give you pleasure."

"That's not what I mean," Daenerys started to protest.

But Jorah went on. "I love to see you come apart. That gives me great satisfaction. To be able to give that to you. To know you trust me that much. When you give yourself to me."

Daenerys smiled at him affectionately and believed every single word he said. "What do you want me to do?" Tonight she wanted to give herself to him on his terms, not hers.

"I just want to be with you, in any way. I want to see you happy. I want to see you in ecstasy, by my doing."

She rolled her eyes. "Why are you being so difficult?"

Jorah had to grin. Her inability to see how her pleasure fueled and complemented his own amused him. He leaned over her and kissed her tenderly. "I am not being difficult. I just like to touch you, kiss you." Something he hadn't been allowed for such a long time. Jorah slowly moved his fingers over her lips, down her throat, between the valley of her breasts and then over her curves, drawing circles on her hip. "I like to feel your smooth skin." He stroked the inside of her thigh. "I like to feel how warm you are." He moved his hand between her legs and whispered, "I love how aroused you are for me."

She inhaled sharply. His fingers were lightly dancing over her skin, causing the most delicious heat that radiated from her lower abdomen to the rest of her body.

"I love how your breathing increases when I touch you." Jorah continued to move his fingers unhurriedly. "I love how you look at me when I touch you like this. When you bite your lip and try to be quiet."

A moan escaped Daenerys' lips. His caress felt so good. "Jorah…"

"I love how you say my name with such passion." He kissed her, playing with her tongue, never stopping the movement of his fingers. Eventually, Jorah abandoned her lips for her neck, focusing on the area just below her ear.

Daenerys gave into his kisses and his touch. Any attempt to resist his capable fingers was useless at this point. She pushed against his hand, craving more.

"I love how responsive you are," he said. "How demanding at times." Jorah watched her face as he increased the movement of his fingers, his strokes becoming more purposeful.

Her breathing became faster. "Don't stop," she pleaded. She needed him to finish what he had started.

Jorah smiled and brushed his lips against her forehead. Stopping was the last thing on his mind. "I wouldn't dare," he replied. From experience he could tell she was close and slowed down the movement of his fingers. He was in no particular hurry to finish this yet. He wanted the look of pleasure on her face to be burned into his memory.

The gentle teasing of his fingers was driving her crazy. Her eyes begged him to give her release. "Jorah…"

"Being with you like this gives me pleasure as well. Being the only one who is allowed to touch you like this… I sometimes still can't believe it. When you give yourself to me like this, when I see the trust and desire in your eyes, it means the world to me."

The words he was whispering to her were almost enough to make her come apart. But his touch was only the softest brush against her heated skin. Completion stayed out of her reach. She needed more. "Please…"

His goal was not to make her beg. Slowly but surely, Jorah increased the pressure and brought her back to the brink.

Daenerys arched her back and her whole body tensed. With one hand she grabbed the sheet, with the other she held on to Jorah. She reached her peak, accompanied by a quiet, almost voiceless cry. Her body relaxed and she looked at him affectionately.

"I love how you look at me with half closed eyes afterwards." Jorah moved his fingers once more, coaxing another, gentler peak from her. This time, taken by surprise, she couldn't suppress a soft squeal. Jorah tenderly placed a kiss on her temple. He rested on his side, simply watching her catch her breath.

Daenerys knew he had skilled fingers. But for someone who usually preferred to say rather less than more, Jorah had a way with words. Merely thinking of what he had just done – and how – made her tingle all over again. When her breathing had returned nearly back to normal Daenerys turned her head to look at him. "You are hopeless," she said in a husky voice.

He smiled. "Yes, I am hopelessly in love with you."

Daenerys put her hand behind his neck and pulled him to her for a passionate kiss. "Earlier, when we were up on the wall," she whispered, "for a moment I wished you would take me right there and then."

Jorah pulled back to look at her. Was she serious or was she just saying that to get him more exited, if that was even possible. "I will keep it in mind for next time."

"Jorah, tell me what-"

"No more talking."

Daenerys smiled sweetly at him. "Whatever you say."

"Stop talking, beloved."

She smiled her most mischievous smile. "Make me."

Jorah moved over her and settled between her legs. "I will." Guiding her legs around his hips, he showed her exactly what he wanted.

Their joining was fast and intense. Neither of them wanted to go slow. Any patience had been used up earlier.

Daenerys wanted to tell him how much she loved what he did to her, just like Jorah had done before. But even forming a coherent thought became difficult very quickly. Remembering his earlier words to her, she let Jorah take charge and gave herself to him wholeheartedly.

Afterwards, they lay in each other's arms content and exhausted. Daenerys had already closed her eyes. Jorah tenderly brushed a streak of hair out of her face. Not wanting to leave her side even for one moment, he decided to simply let the candles burn down instead of extinguishing them.

"I love falling asleep in your arms," Daenerys whispered sleepily. "The world around us could fall apart and I would still feel safe in your arms."

Jorah was deeply touched by her words. He wasn't sure he would have been able to speak, if he had been able to think of anything sensible to say. He lay like this for a long time, with her in his arms, until sleep finally claimed him as well.

The next morning, the mood was somber. And more than a few people felt the aftermath of their excessive drinking the night before. Everything was slow going.

Jon had just returned from his scouting ride on Rhaegal. The wights were luckily still pretty far north. It seemed they were not heading straight south. So far, Jon didn't see a pattern in their movements. He thought back to his encounters with them north of the Wall. Their movements had seemed fairly random there too. Had it just been the Wall that had kept them in the North? How much had the arrival of winter to do with it? Did they need colder temperatures to survive? Was the South safe as long as it wasn't snowing there? But everything was indicating that this would turn into one of the harshest winters ever, harsher than anyone living had ever seen. And such a winter would eventually reach King's Landing and probably even Dorne.

When Jon walked through the gates of Winterfell, Gendry came up to him.

"Are you sure you want me to stay here?" Gendry asked.

"Yes," Jon replied.

"Your sisters can oversee the building of the scorpion and the replenishments. Everyone has their instructions."

"I want you in charge of it, especially of the weapons. And Sansa has enough on her hands already. I know you will get it done." Jon put a hand on his shoulder. "There will be more chances to prove you are a brave fighter."

"Ser Davos could-"

"I want you to stay here," Jon said sternly. He took a deep breath before he went on, lowering his voice. "If something happens to me… If we win, Cersei will attack. You have to protect Bran, Arya and Sansa. I know you care about Arya." Jon looked at Gendry, waiting for a reply. But Gendry simply nodded. "And if we lose… as soon as it becomes inevitable… take them away from here. Take them to Essos or wherever you think they might be safe."

"With the Night King on a dragon, nowhere will be safe."

"You at least have to try."

Again, Gendry just nodded.

Jaime, Brienne and Podrick were securing the last of their possessions and supplies to their horses when Tyrion approached. Tyrion had slept longer than intended. After talking first to Daenerys and then to Jorah he had gotten terribly drunk. But eventually the noise in the courtyard had woken him.

"Are you sure you can fight a battle like that with your left hand?" Tyrion asked his brother with a look of worry.

"I guess we are about to find out," Jaime said. He had never seen the wights. Based on what he had heard, Jaime hoped his battle skills and experience would match the ferocity of the wights. He was strong and in good shape. Jaime was certain that he would not be one of the first to fall in this war. And even though he knew that many would die, he trusted that Jon Snow would not send them to their death needlessly. Jon Snow truly seemed to care about his men. He was as honorable as his fool of a father. At least Cersei had been right about that.

"What will you do while we are away, my Lord?" Podrick asked.

"I have been put in charge of the replenishments of dragonglass from Dragonstone to Winterfell to provide the archers continuously with new arrows."

"And swords and daggers," Brienne added. "I don't trust these dragonglass swords. They are not as durable as steel. And they are too thick and too heavy. The daggers should work fine, but then you have to get even closer to the wights." Brienne was more than glad that she had a sword made of Valyrian steel. It would be a real advantage in this battle.

"If you have changed your mind, I am all packed and ready to go," Arya said to Jon.

Jon hugged her. "Take care of Winterfell for me."

"That's Sansa's job."

"She will need all the help she can get."

"One raven and I'll be there," Arya said. "I'll have your back."

"I need you to have my back here at Winterfell."

Arya sighed in defeat. She would have been surprised, if Jon had changed his mind about her coming along. But at least she had to try.

"Don't keep Gendry from his work too much," Jon said with a grin.

She looked at him with wide eyes. "You… you know?"

"I admit that it's not exactly my area of expertise, but I had a suspicion from the moment you first talked about him."

"But… I didn't even know back then."

Jon just smiled. "He's a good man. I would trust him with my life." And with my sister's, he thought. But he didn't want to upset Arya. So he just hugged her again.

"Please be careful, Jon."

"I will."

"You are still planning on returning to Winterfell in the evenings, right?"

"Yes." He had tried to argue with Daenerys that at least he should stay out there with their armies. But she had insisted on staying as well. So he had relented, at least for now. He was sure they would have to adapt their tactics anyway, depending on what the Night King would do. Jon had never felt as unprepared for a fight as for this one. If there had been time, he would have sent Sam to the Citadel to find more on the White Walkers, anything that might give them an advantage. But they had run out of time. They had to make do with what they had.

Qhono came up to Jorah. "Will you translate something for me?"

"Of course." He followed Qhono until they stood in front of Sansa.

"I will slay my enemies in your name," Qhono said in Dothraki.

Jorah translated word for word.

For a moment, Sansa was speechless. She blushed slightly and hoped nobody was noticing. "Please tell him that I thank him. And that I wish him success on the battlefield. I am sure his arrows will find their mark." Sansa realized she didn't even know his name.

Qhono nodded in acknowledgement after Jorah had translated Sansa's words. Then they both left.

"He's definitely a better catch than Joffrey," Arya said, coming up behind Sansa.

"Arya, be quiet," Sansa hissed at her sister.

"Just saying."

"I am not interested in… anyone. Besides, he's a Dothraki."

"So?"

"He's…"

"What? A savage? He sounded quite eloquent to me." Arya had come to like the Dothraki. Which wasn't surprising, considering that they shared the same interests. Fighting was all they cared about. They took great pride in their horses, weapons and battle skills.

"You have spent quite some time with them the last few days."

"Yes."

"Do you know his name?"

Arya looked at her sister and grinned. "Qhono."

Sansa wished she hadn't asked and blushed again.

"He's their leader."

"That I know," Sansa replied testily.

"See how long his hair is? The Dothraki only cut their hair, when they lose a fight."

"I'll watch out for her," Jon said to Jorah.

Jorah nodded in thanks. Naturally, Jorah was worried about Daenerys. But he was also concerned about Jon. When it came to the Night King and the wights, Jon seemed to be driven. He struck Jorah as a man prepared to die in battle. Jon appeared to be obsessed with the Night King. "Be careful out there," Jorah said. "There is another battle waiting for us after this," he reminded Jon.

"I do believe we can win this fight. I have to believe we can win this fight. But I don't think we will win if we don't give everything. We will have to risk everything to win against the Night King."

"Jon, you are too important to sacrifice yourself in this fight. Besides, I could name quite a few people who would be devastated if you did."

Jon sighed. He didn't want to leave Sansa, Arya and Bran alone. And he had just found a new family in Daenerys. But there was no choice when it came to the Night King. He had to be defeated or everything else would be pointless. "You have seen them beyond the Wall. You know how ruthless they are. Never underestimate them. Never underestimate the Night King."

Jorah nodded. "I won't."

Jon unbuckled his sword belt. "I know you don't want it back. But I want you to carry it during this fight. Your father spent his life protecting Westeros against the threat from the North. It is only right that you should do the same with his sword in your hands."

"I told you, it's yours," Jorah replied. He was nevertheless touched by Jon's gesture.

"I won't have much use for it on Rhaegal. Not as much as you."

"You need a sword," Jorah insisted.

"I do. And I have one."

Sam approached them, holding a sword in his hands. He handed it to Jon. "It's my family's sword," Sam explained. "It's made from Valyrian steel. I have no use for it in this fight."

"I thought you are coming with us," Jorah said to Sam.

"I am. But I will be in charge of the wounded. So hopefully I will have no need for a sword. Besides, I am more comfortable with a dagger anyway." He pointed to the dragonglass dagger at his belt.

"I am lending you my sword, while Sam is lending me his," Jon explained.

"I… I don't know what to say."

"Don't. Just make good use of it."

"I will."

Jorah approached Missandei. "You will keep an eye on her, won't you?"

Missandei nodded. "Of course."

"Thank you."

"No need to thank me. But may I ask you to keep an eye on Grey Worm?"

"Certainly. I know how precious he is to you."

Missandei smiled, remembering how Grey Worm had first used that word to express how much her lessons had meant to him. She would treasure that moment forever. Jorah had taught him the word.

Jorah came up to Daenerys. "I just talked to Lyanna. She is staying at Winterfell," he said relieved.

Daenerys smiled, happy for him. "Good." She looked towards where Lyanna was standing and watching the events in the courtyard. Lyanna gave Daenerys a curt nod, which Daenerys returned.

"What was that about?" Jorah asked.

"Nothing."

"Did you talk to her?"

"As if anyone could change your cousin's mind."

Jorah looked her, not quite sure what to make of this. But why would his cousin suddenly change her mind? When he had talked to Lyanna he'd gotten the feeling that her resolve to join the battle had been unwavering. "Daenerys, did you talk to her?"

Her only reply was a warm smile.

Jorah was stunned. She had talked to Lyanna. And she had done it for him. Jorah was deeply moved. Words couldn't express how grateful he was. But how had Daenerys been able to convince Lyanna? Ordering Lyanna wouldn't have worked. His cousin would never take commands from a Targaryen. But somehow she had managed to get through to Lyanna. Daenerys truly was the Queen he wanted to see sitting on the Iron Throne. "How did you…?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Thank you," he whispered.

Daenerys accompanied Jorah to his horse. She took the reins from the stable boy. "You can go," she said.

The boy looked at her with wide eyes. Then he turned around and left so quickly that he almost stumbled over his own feet.

Holding the reins gave Daenerys something to do and allowed them some small amount of privacy. She stroked the horse's neck, never taking her eyes off Jorah. They just looked at each other, determined and somber. They had said everything there was to be said the night before.

They would see each other on the battlefield. Jon and Daenerys would scout and direct their armies from above, burning as many wights as they could while waiting for the Night King to show. Although Jon and Daenerys would return to Winterfell each night, the plan was to convene regularly on the ground to decide on the best course of action. But there would be no time for personal matters out there. This was the last private moment they would get.

Jorah wanted to take her hands. But people were watching them. And he would never presume.

Daenerys would have liked to kiss him. She knew Tyrion would have a fit, if she kissed Jorah here in public. But what if Jorah didn't come back? No, she wouldn't allow herself to think like that. He always came back to her. She would kiss him when all of this was over. Besides, Daenerys could still feel his kisses from last night and this morning on her lips. But she couldn't let him go without touching him one more time.

Still holding the reins with one hand, Daenerys reached out for Jorah's hands with the other. Jorah met her halfway. They simply stayed like this for a moment.

Jorah turned to mount his horse, not letting go of her hand though. With his back to the others and shielded by his horse, he placed a swift kiss on Daenerys' fingers, before releasing her hand.

Tenderly, Daenerys stroked the horse's neck one more time. "Frakhas valad," she whispered to the horse, but loud enough that Jorah would hear it as well. Only then did she let go of the reins and stepped back.

Jorah knew the expression only too well. Touch the horizon. It was a Dothraki command for the horse to get moving. The Dothraki would usually scream the words when going into battle, spurring on their horses. But the way Daenerys had said them they sounded more like a blessing. A blessing for a safe return.

"Frakhas valad," Jorah replied softly. Daenerys would be up there on the horizon, on her dragon. And hopefully, somehow, they would be able to put an end to the approaching threat that was the Night King and his wights.