Summary:

A merrier twist on S08E03.
Daenerys witnesses a miracle, and now she knows what she wants to do with her life.
Slowly, Jorah, Daenerys, Jon, and Sansa rebuild what was lost.
Something to warm your heart if you are still crying after the episode.

Notes:

After writing a dark story, I really had to write something more cheerful.

If she had thought she had known pain and desperation before, she had been very wrong.

Her whole heart and soul were coming out of her now in unison with her tears, her sobs, and her wails, to leave her body and leave her empty.

She had been in denial for a while, despite the terrible blows she had witnessed: he kept standing up again, and fighting, after all. Maybe he wasn't badly hurt. If he were, he would not keep fighting like that…
Then, when it was over, he hit the ground heavily. The blades had not damaged his sarcastic vein, which she had missed for years: she heard him utter "I'm hurt". And in that moment she knew then that he was only still alive because he wanted to pursue his mission to the end. She knew then that her bear was leaving her for good this time.

She took into her arms for the first time, and then, just like that, it dawned upon her that this was love, that he was love, and that she had loved him back for many years - probably from the moment they had talked of going home - but she had closed her eyes to it. Jorah was her Jorah, with all his virtues and flaws, his good deeds and bad ones, with all his informed opinions and his wisdom, his sarcasm and his courtly words, his silences and his stares. Jorah was her everything.

His lips composed his last words, a soundless but clear I love you.

Then he was gone, his face still frozen in that you, his eyes now silent and empty, and she lost even the tiniest flicker of hope she still cherished, the body she cradled only an empty shell.

Even Drogon came, both to mourn the man who had made it possible for him and his siblings to come to life and the first man to seen them and be seen by them, and to comfort his mother in her loud desperation.

"My Jorah!" "My bear!" "My love!" "What will I do without you by my side?"

In the darkness, only a few fires were still burning. Drogon's embrace sheltered her from many of these light sources.

Then a weird reddish light flashed briefly, followed by a less intense but more stable light. The light tricked her into seeing Jorah inhale deeply again as if in pain, then breathing out, then blinking. Once, twice.

"Oh, my love!" she wailed in desperation, completing the sentence in her head. My mind does not want to accept that you are gone, and is tricking me

"Daenerys?"

Daenerys calmed her wails and stopped sobbing, sniffing powerfully. Was she going mad with pain already? Then she noticed how his movement and the words she heard seemed to correspond. "Daenerys? Have I failed you?"

"Jorah?"

With a tone of despair, he answered her doubtful plea: "I haven't protected you!"

"Jorah!"

"Forgive me. I failed you. You should not be here with me…"

"Oh, my love, my dearest man!" and she started covering his face frantically with kisses everywhere.

"Daen… erys… please… is this… still… the battlefield?"

Daenerys stopped, without letting his face go. "Yes, the battlefield where you protected me fiercely till the last, my bear."

"You are… alive?"

"Yes!"

After a moment of stunned silence, it dawned on him too. "The Red Priestess?"

"Lady Melisandre? What of her?"

"She was the one to bring back Jon. It only seems logic that she have something to do with my resurrection as well."

Daenerys froze her eyes and mouth wide open. "You were… really dead?"

"Khaleesi, I remember a half-slit throat and a sword through my chest, not to mention countless blows. And I remember not being able to make any sounds in my last moments. Then nothing." Not sure if her reaction was led by grief or was honest, Jorah tentatively took the chance to caress one of her hands lightly and slowly. "I… guess I could have thought I fainted, but…" and he inspected himself, "my throat feels like it's knitting back. I feel something closing up even in the rest of my body. And I really felt strange upon opening my eyes. And, well, I would not be the first man to come back." Not being sure if he had heard her correctly before, he attempted another feather-like caress. She did not remove her hand, and smiled, while still cradling his head in her hands.

With a huge effort, he lifted his other hand to touch her cheek. "Your face is smeared with blood, khaleesi."

"Blood of my blood." And she bent on him and kissed him fully on his lips.

Jorah reciprocated the gesture and took her head in his hands as well. Then, when the kiss was over, crushed her to his bloodied and armored chest, where she abandoned herself to tears of joy.

The promise of a new life for both was a welcome balm amongst the scene of destruction and desolation. But bad tidings reached them soon enough.

He, who had withstood blows and charges, fell powerlessly on his knees in front of the small body of his cousin, her chest visibly kept together only by her armored parts, by boiled leather and by her clothes, her bloodied mouth bearing witness to the painful death that had taken her away. Daenerys knelt beside him.

Later, the few witnesses from the courtyard and the battlements, including the last Bear Islander, told the entire story.

Daenerys was moved by Lyanna's death for many, many reasons: not only because she was the last of her bear's family, but also for what she had represented and for what she had done. "We will honor her. We will clean her up, and tell her goodbye together. Poor girl…" she murmured to him while taking hold of his hand. Her other hand went to stroke her still silky threads. She decided that she would cut a lock of Lady Lyanna's hair for Jorah to keep, before they set her pyre on fire. Not a braid: she deserved to go with her braids intact. She had not been defeated. Her death was not a defeat.

"My poor little cousin." For the first time Daenerys saw tears on Jorah's face, running copiously down his handsome cheekbones and his dear beard. "She was a baby when I left… then she was left alone… but she wanted to fight, she would not listen to me. Women on Bear Island fight same as the men. She went out like Aunt Maege and her sisters."

Bitterness took hold of Daenerys. "If only I were able to give you children… we could name our first girl after her."

Jorah turned to look at her. "Daenerys…"

"Shht, my bear. Maybe we can find war orphans to foster and raise as our children. I imagine there will be many, especially on Bear Island…"

Jorah could not believe what he had heard. He wondered if he had misunderstood. But there was only one possible meaning for those words. "Khaleesi…"

"We promised each other we would go home, together… "

"I remember other promises as well, about a throne…"

Daenerys stared into his eyes for a while, then said: "We have been gifted a new life, together. When I held you in my arms dead, I would have given up all my claims to have you back. Now I want to hold up my part of the bargain with fate."

"What if you regret it?"

"What if I regret choosing the throne?"

"You are not losing me if you choose the throne. Especially not if you are truly barren, since no one will want to sit by your side as a husband without the hope of having his own blood sitting on the throne in the future. But I don't understand… do you mean to stay here in the North and hope that Cersei does not attack the north?"

"Does it seem to you like the right moment to bring up Cersei Lannister and another war?"

"No, you are right."

"We will have time to talk. But… now I want you always by my side. I want us to rest in each other's arms."

No one ever learned exactly what happened. The best guess, after hearing Davos's words about Melisandre's demise, was that Jorah had left this world when her necklace hit the ground, and somehow the power that was in it had clung to Jorah. Not even Jon could tell more.

On other matters, Jon wasn't particularly articulated either.

"So, this is all there is to say about one of our issues, I suppose. You are my aunt, and you love Jorah. If only the matter with Cersei were this simple!"

Jorah, still lying in Daenerys's bed, trying to recover his strength, was incredibly amused. "I agree. I am glad we didn't have to invite Tyrion Lannister to this discussion, or it would never end. As for the other issue, I suppose in that case not only will his presence during the discussion be necessary, but the man will also revel in discussing his sister's removal from power and, well, her consequent demise."

"You don't think it is possible to take the throne without killing her, then?" Jon asked.

"Take the throne, definitely. As for keeping it, I guess I can tell you that it is usually not done. Sooner or later, something comes back to haunt the ruling king or queen, or something stirs trouble. I have first-hand experience, in this case, since it's how I got here."

Daenerys's eyes sparkled. "I cannot tell you enough how much I have missed your sarcastic remarks, Jorah. Even when they refer to chapters of our acquaintance that would be better forgotten." She turned then to Jon: "Anyway, I have pondered it long enough, and I thought that I'd much rather head to Bear Island with Jorah, if Lady Sansa and Aegon Targaryen grant us the lordship, of course."

"So, you don't want the throne anymore, and I never wanted it in the first place. What do we do now? And don't call me that."

Jorah had once again wise advice to give. "Well, you could let a Southron, one of their own kind, sit on their throne, for example. But I would also advise you both to think carefully about what you want from life. In the meantime, I apologize for putting an end to this conversation, but I would love to recover in peace. I cannot fathom how you could simply get up and feel normal after your resurrection, Jon."

Daenerys intervened: "I had never wielded a sword before, and never took a blade, not to mention that I have no experience in resurrecting whatsoever. Even when I stepped onto a pyre, I managed to survive. However, I suppose that some stabbing with daggers is slightly different from a half-slit throat, a sword completely through your chest, and several other wounds from swords and mixed weapons."

"I thank you, dear aunt Daenerys, for diminishing my experience of being betrayed and repeatedly stabbed to death by your own men."

"Jon Targaryen!"

"Snow!"

"Snow, then! I have seen my Jorah brutally attacked in every possible way by things that should have been dead. I have seen him going down and standing up again multiple times to protect me, only to cradle him in my arms as he died. Forgive me if I fail to grasp how ignoring the signs of a mutiny and falling victim to it by means of a simple stabbing should be considered equally bad!"

"I am glad we have already sorted out our relationship, because otherwise I would have to find the words to end it between us, and I might be almost as unpleasant as you are right now!"

Jorah settled for closing his eyes and ignoring the conversation.

His family's pine log longhall was almost the same as it ever was. Except that it was empty. The last time he had stood there, there were many people coming, going, and staying. There was laughter, screaming, talking, and arguing. There were weapons clashing in the courtyard. There were people coming to court.

Now, the steward and the maester presented him with a few chests containing all that Maege, Dacey, Alysane, Lyra, Jorelle, and Lyanna had left behind when going to war. His reaction was always the same: he fell on his knees inspecting the content and cried.

Daenerys knelt beside him in silence, leaning her head on his shaking broad shoulder, a small flicker of hope growing inside her.

Months later, the pine log hall was a little changed. A few small improvements, commissioned in order to give some work to the people, and generously financed by King Jon and Queen Sansa. People coming to discuss things with their Lord and Lady. Yara Greyjoy coming to visit the Mormont hall, a historical event that marked how times had changed. And that flicker of hope had grown to be the promise of a future that could make up in part for their losses.

Daenerys put her hand on her belly, and smiled remembering how she got in that condition.

For days, after that night, Jorah had felt poorly. Besides, they were perfectly content to sleep next to each other, and to share some time together and some kisses. It had been perfect in its own way: they had rebuilt their old familiarity and trust, and Jorah's kisses were sweeter than honey. Besides, Daenerys had enough time to be sure not to carry another man's child in her belly: when finally Jorah showed her for the first the last missing face of his love, the only one he had never showed her, her moonblood had already come twice after her last encounter with Jon.

And… oh, it had been an incredible surprise! Where had Jorah hidden all that passion for all these years? And… oh, he was gifted, and skilled. And hungry. She had nothing to complain about. Then, finally, the surprise: she was not barren. Had it something to do with defeating the White Walkers? Or with Jorah's resurrection?

It didn't matter. The future of House Mormont was growing inside her, their heir – they had decided that the firstborn would inherit and carry on the family name, no matter if girl or boy.

Unfortunately, there was a dispute going on with their monarchs. The Mormonts wanted to call the child Lyanna, if a girl, or Jeor, if a boy. The Starks, who were expecting a child as well, were also considering Lyanna for a girl, and although the first boy would be called Eddard, Jon had announced multiple times that he wished to use 'Jeor' for a later child as well.

"It is really not that much of a trouble. Children are perfectly able to come up with alternative names, when they play," argued Sansa.

Daenerys observed: "At least, it seems like we can make use of Rhaegar freely." Jorah nodded, smiling at his love.

Jon confirmed it: "As much as I am relieved to know that my father loved my mother, Rhaegar Targaryen never meant something to me. We never met. I never cherished his memory. Lord Stark and Lord Commander Mormont were more of a father to me than he ever was."

In the end, they all agreed with Sansa.

"Lyanna, give me back my sword!" Ned was definitely on the verge of tears. The Mormont heir, in her shiny blonde braids, had not only defeated the Prince of the North in their playful training session, but she had also taken away his sword.

"Well, if you want it back, take it back, " the tall girl taunted her shy playmate.

Sansa watched in amusement. "I cannot imagine two more different Lyannas than your Lyanna and our little Lily," she remarked.

"Oh, look, my son wants to defend Ned against his sister! I think I should call Jorah. I am not in the right condition for intervening directly, and Jon… well, he has a terrible personal record as far as these interventions are concerned."

Sansa interrupted her: "Not only when it comes to the children, believe me…"

Daenerys looked around to see if her husband was near, and reprised: "I will never understand the weird attraction to battleaxes that seems to run in this family, to the point that they had to carve a woman carrying one on the… JEOR! Don't you dare… oh, dear… I swear, those two will make their brother or sister come earlier!"

"Have you decided, then? Will this one be Rhaegar or… "

"Or any of the Mormont female names. My favorite is Dacey, but Jorah is the one who has to choose. If he prefers Maege, it will not bother me. What about yours?"

"Robb for a boy, Tanselle for a girl." Upon noticing Daenerys's surprised face, Sansa added: "Jon and I always loved the stories of Duncan the Tall and your great-uncle Aegon!"

Notes:

I used the canon names of the Mormont ladies from the books.
Mormont keep is described as a pine log longhall there. I think the show gave us a more refined version of it, but it really does not fit with Jorah's story.