This is it...the final chapter! The end is nigh.

This chapter is probably the longest one I've ever posted, so I hope that's alright. I had much to write. There are actually some parts I cut out or re-wrote (I may release deleted scenes later? If that interests the people? Say aye?)

This story has been super fun to write and the support has been amazing! So thank-you to everyone who has taken the time to read this lil fic. My nerves always attempt to get the best of me, but your enthusiasm propels me forward!

I'm in the process of writing another Jorleesi fic, but I want to complete it before I post anything. Be on the look out.

As always, I apologize in advance for any/all errors. I am but a wee mortal.

I adore all of you.

"This may sound foolish-," Tyrion sighed and leaned back in his chair, swirling the contents of his goblet mindlessly.

"As opposed to most of your other advice?" Daenerys supplied with a smirk.

"Ha, ha," Tyrion's sarcasm was his true gem. "As I was saying...it may sound foolish, but you have to court Mormont."

"Court him?"

After having explained her romantic dilemma to her Hand, his advice hardly seemed helpful.

"Yes, woo him, pursue him, however you want to phrase it," Tyrion shrugged.

The Queen continued to stare at him wordlessly.

"Clearly Mormont does not believe your affections for him are true-" Tyrion started, but he was cut off by Daenerys once again.

"We've been over this already. Jorah knows I would not deceive to him."

"He believes that you believe you are telling the truth."

Daenerys fought the urge to roll her eyes.

"Now that is foolish," she countered.

"It wouldn't be the first time a person has tricked themselves into believing they are in love with someone, when they are not," Tyrion commented, his tone shifting into something far more bitter.

Daenerys' gaze softened sympathetically.

"That may be true, but this is not a decision I have come to overnight. It has taken me far too long, but I am certain of my feelings for Jorah."

Tyrion seemingly pulled himself out of his thoughts and smiled at his Queen kindly.

"Sometimes it is easier to love than be loved, Your Grace. In loving you, Mormont may be setting himself up for pain, but as long as his affections are not returned, he never has to worry about hurting you," Tyrion stated with a thoughtful tilt of his head. "Some believe it is more noble to give love than it is to receive it."

"I assumed you would be against the notion altogether," Daenerys stated.

"You could have set your eyes on a far worse man. If recent success indicates anything, you do not need to wed for power or profit. Truthfully, I have always abhorred political marriages. Nothing brings more treachery than two people forced together with selfish fantasies swirling around the backs of their minds."

There was a brief silence between them as they both considered Tyrion's words.

"How do I court him then?" Daenerys sighed, reaching for her goblet and taking a gulp of wine. Tyrion mimicked the action.

"It is quite unconventional for a woman to pursue a man so boldly, especially given your status. Not to mention, Mormonts are notoriously obstinate...but if you're sure..." Tyrion included a theatrical pause long enough to earn a glare from Daenerys. "Alright then, let's start with orchestrating some alone time for the two of you..."

Daenerys smiled as Jorah entered the dining hall with a bewildered expression. He glanced around, clearly surprised there were no other advisors present in the large room.

"Were you expecting someone else, Ser Jorah?" Daenerys teased from where she sat at the large, oak table.

"No, I was just-," Jorah studied the room again. "Tyrion informed me there was a small council meeting, Your Grace."

Daenerys eyes glittered with mischief, but her knight did not seem to notice.

"Did he? He must have been mistaken," she feigned shock and ignorance.

Jorah nodded, but suspicion narrowed his eyes. He studied her for a moment and she had to fight to maintain an innocent smile.

"Come, sit and enjoy a meal with me, Jorah. It has been far too long since we have been able to enjoy each other's company."

Jorah seemed to relax beneath her warm welcome and he approached the table without caution.

Her knight released an amused huff once he noticed the deliberate placement of his prepared bowl and goblet beside hers. The intent was clear and he was forced to take the seat closest to where she sat at the head of the table.

Daenerys did not attempt to hide her watchful gaze as she may have in the past. She allowed herself to be completely unfiltered in her emotions and actions towards Jorah, hoping it would garner his attention.

"I'm honored, Your Grace."

Daenerys could sense his lingering confusion, but chose not to address it. Instead, she poured her knight some wine and shifted a little bit closer to him.

The dinner was more pleasant than any she could recall in recent moons. She laughed and smiled so much that within an hour, her cheeks ached.

Following her soft request, Jorah shared stories of his life on Bear Island and rare tales of his time as a sellsword throughout Essos. She found herself completely fascinated by his life, as she always had. He had interacted with more cultures and history than any other person she knew and still he remained humble and generous.

The Queen couldn't tear her eyes away from her knight. Her attention bounced between his smooth voice and bright, intelligent eyes. She placed her elbow on the table and rested her cheek against her fist while listening intently to each word Jorah spoke. He seemed oblivious to her spellbound state and she found it incredibly charming.

The entire night reminded Daenerys of their shared past across the Narrow Sea. Those days where she had relied so heavily on Jorah for guidance and support. It almost made her laugh when she recalled her younger, more ignorant, self. Back then, she had believed it was Jorah's wealth of knowledge that she was drawn to, but she now understood it was far more than that.

Daenerys drank little of her wine, but refilled Jorah's goblet more than once. She was already far too distracted by his proximity. It was only fair he be equally inhibited.

She had rarely seen Jorah indulge in any form of wine or ale, but he seemed to be handling himself quite well. The only true indication of an inebriated state was the rosy tint to his cheeks and his slightly more animated expressions.

Her knight's demeanor was more relaxed than it had been in some time. He sat with his body turned towards her and his long legs extended alongside the bottom of her chair. One of his arms was perched on the wooden armrest of his own chair, while the other lay on the table between them...just close enough to touch.

Daenerys kept her eyes on Jorah's face as the fingers of her free hand slowly edged towards him. She gently traced her fingertips along the outside of his hand before playing with the ring encircling his index finger.

Jorah's eyes softened at her touch, but he did not pull away.

Their conversation continued.

Daenerys did not know how much time had passed, but she found herself not wanting the night to end. Every time the conversation between them lulled, she would find a new memory to prolong the inevitable.

Early that same day, Daenerys had decided to drop all expectation for the evening. She did not want to appear to have ulterior motives. The last thing she wanted was for Jorah to feel pressured or uncomfortable when alone with her. The goal was for them to spend time together and build upon the solid foundation they had already formed.

A few more days passed by slowly before Daenerys was able to enjoy Jorah's company again. She found herself craving his presence more and more each day and while it was a thrilling feeling, it often left her crestfallen when political obligations got in the way.

Most days Jorah stood at her side, but more recently, he seemed to be managing small skirmishes in Flea Bottom or beyond King's Landing. This not only made her worry over his safety, but also limited their interactions to brief passes and greetings.

Daenerys was grateful when she received word from Ser Davos that Jorah had returned from Flea Bottom. Eager to see her knight, she headed down to the stables in search of him. Jorah always spent time after a long journey tending to his horse and equipment. He was predictable in his kindness.

Sure enough, Daenerys smiled as she spotted Jorah's familiar figure silhouetted against the far stall. His back was to her and she was still far away enough that he had not heard her approach. Daenerys took advantage of the quiet moment and watched her knight carry out his tasks.

Jorah had already removed the black stallion's saddle and bridle and offered a bucket of water. While the horse was preoccupied with drinking, Jorah gently ran his hands down all four of the stallion's legs, checking for any cuts or swelling. Seemingly satisfied, he began to brush the animal.

"Long day, huh, boy?" Jorah murmured softly as he watched the horse's heavy breathing level out.

Daenerys leaned against the stable entrance with a dream-filled sigh.

Jorah had always been sweet to their horses and there was something almost exotically soothing about watching him tend to the animal. Every movement drew her eyes to his hands, which moved with such effortless grace. Less innocent images swirled around the Queen's mind and she pondered rough hands on soft skin.

Daenerys' brain was pulled from its pleasant wandering when Jorah bent to retrieve the water bucket. Instead of straightening naturally, Jorah's body hitched and he uttered a pained gasp.

His name tore from Daenerys' lips and she moved to his side quickly.

"Your Grace," Jorah greeted her in surprise. He made to turn in her direction, but she stopped him with a gentle hand against the small of his back.

"You're hurt," she moved in front of him to survey him for injuries.

It wasn't a question and they both knew Jorah would not lie to her. Daenerys hated that if she had not witnessed his pain, he would have attempted to keep it hidden.

The only outward sign of injury was a shallow cut below his temple, but she knew his pain came from wounds hidden beneath armor.

"Only minor scrapes and bruises, Khaleesi. Nothing a good night's rest won't cure," Jorah reassured.

Daenerys' palm slid across her knight's back to settle resolutely against his chest, preventing him from moving forward.

Jorah observed her through wary eyes.

"Prove it then. Show me I have nothing to be worried about," she demanded, peering up at him determinedly.

Jorah's face dropped and twisted into a faintly visible cringe.

"Your Grace, it would be highly inappropriate for a Queen to be caught in the stables with her Lord Commander half-dressed."

"I don't think our friend would tell on us, do you?" Daenerys nodded her head to indicate the horse beside them.

"Khaleesi-," Jorah warned.

A thought struck Daenerys suddenly and she silently debated her approach.

"If you insist that rest is all you need, then come with me," she instructed, dropping her hand and turning for the door. She knew her knight would begrudgingly follow.

Daenerys smirked as in confirmation, Jorah's footsteps fell close behind her.

"Thank-you, Missandei," Daenerys stated. She shared a grin with her handmaiden before the other woman departed the room.

The Queen's chambers now smelled of lavender and roses. Missandei had drawn what would be a routine bath. The only difference was the hot water was not for the Queen, but for the Lord Commander.

Jorah had looked both embarrassed and apologetic when Daenerys summoned Missandei to draw the bath for him, but the handmaiden shook off his concerns. She was just as insistent as Daenerys that he deserved a little luxury and relaxation.

Now that they were alone again, Daenerys turned towards Jorah with an impish grin.

"Do you need help removing your armor?" she asked innocently, noting her knight had yet to move.

Jorah's eyes brightened with amusement.

"I think I can manage, Khaleesi."

Although his movements were stiff, Jorah successfully pulled off his armor without her assistance. Free of the heavy metal, he was left in only black breeches and a dark green tunic.

"Is this the part where I turn around and close my eyes?" she asked.

Jorah's amusement stretched to his lips, where it settled into the ghost of a smile.

Daenerys made a show of closing her eyes and turning around.

Fabric brushed flesh and her heart thundered in her chest. The distinct sound of clothing falling to the floor carried across the room. Warmth crept upwards and pricked at her cheeks. She pondered reckless thoughts. It would be far too easy for her to turn back around, open her eyes, and reach for Jorah before he had time to get in the bath.

The sloshing sound of water pulled Daenerys from her wicked scheming, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't wipe the grin from her face.

"I suddenly understand your fondness for scalding water, Khaleesi," Jorah murmured, his voice trailing off with a content sigh. Daenerys took his words as permission to open her eyes.

"I had Missandei lower the temperature for your Northern blood," Daenerys japed and she turned towards him.

Her mirth was cut short when her eyes landed on him.

"Oh, Jorah," Daenerys whispered. Her heart clenched at the sight of the dark bruises covering the right half of his chest. The blue and purple coloring disappeared close to his neck, but it was no wonder he was in pain.

"They will fade within a few days, Khaleesi," Jorah murmured, leveling her with doting eyes.

"That's not the point," she stated sternly and moved to sit on the bench directly next to the bath.

Jorah did not seem bothered by her nearness. The soapy cloudiness of the water kept everything but his torso hidden from view. Even his face was partially obscured from view by the shadows of candles flickering nearby.

"I don't like seeing you hurt," Daenerys confessed.

The vulnerability of the moment was not lost on Jorah, who swallowed thickly, and reached for his Queen's hand resting on the edge of the tub. Daenerys' breath hitched as he brushed his thumb across her knuckles. He raised their joined hands and kissed her skin tenderly.

Daenerys squeezed her knight's palm encouragingly; she was pleased with his open affection.

"I could apologize, but we both know I will always do what is necessary to keep you safe, my Queen," Jorah murmured.

"You could have any position within my council, Jorah. There are other ways to serve your Queen."

There was a desperate plea cowering in her voice.

"Protecting you gives me purpose. Official titles aside, I would never be able to stand by and watch harm befall you, Your Grace."

Daenerys squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head, frustrated with him and herself. She knew there was truth behind Jorah's words. As long as danger confronted her, he would be there to stand in its path. The evidence of that was not only clear in recent bruising, but in the various scars that covered his body.

Her eyes traced unfamiliar, faded marks along the sloping muscles of his arms, but her gaze seemed drawn to the bold scar close to his heart. The memories of him nearly dying during the Long Night lunged for her teetering emotions, but she shoved them away.

Daenerys opened her eyes, ignoring the sudden burn of tears. She lifted Jorah's hand, which still cradled hers, and pressed a reverent kiss against his fingertips. The action matched his earlier affection...just as her heart mirrored his devotion.

"It was worth a try," she sighed, her lips curving into a weak smile.

She couldn't change him anymore than he could change her. She didn't want to. The acceptance of flaws was unspoken and natural between them.

"Valiant effort, Your Grace."

Daenerys liked the distant mischief dancing in her knight's eyes, despite the melancholy nature of their discussion. Something about the flowery scent in the air and the quiet intimacy of the setting made all somber thoughts fade from her mind.

She scooped a handful of foam from the water's surface and brushed it under Jorah's chin, giggling lightly as suds clung to his golden beard.

There was no point dwelling on the sorrowful possibilities of life when she had such pleasant company.

A few weeks later…

If he wasn't so charmed by the Queen's behavior, Tyrion would have rolled his eyes.

Daenerys walked ahead of him with Ser Jorah a half-step behind her. Her hands were clasped behind her back in the same fashion as her Lord Commander's. The subtle imitation did not go unnoticed by Ser Jorah, who released a barely audible chuckle.

It was the first time they had all ventured out into Flea Bottom in some time and the escape outdoors was invigorating.

The Queen was wonderful with her people and their support was displayed as beaming faces and excited waves. The welcoming behavior allowed Daenerys to interact with the commoners more openly than previous rulers.

Although there had been no recent attempts to harm the Queen, her Lord Commander was always close by and vigilant.

Tyrion believed Ser Jorah was largely responsible for increased security throughout Flea Bottom as he personally handled minor disputes before they grew into larger issues. His ability to resolve problems diplomatically was admirable and prevented unnecessary bloodshed. Proactive planning kept the Queen's enemies at a distance, with a sea of followers between them.

Even then, while others let their attention slip with the pleasantness of the warm afternoon, Ser Jorah remained alert. His eyes constantly scanned the crowds of people and the rows of shops around them. Tyrion found the constant influx of sights, sounds, and smells overwhelming, but somehow Ser Jorah was able to filter through it.

Jorah was happy to be outdoors and in the presence of his Queen, even though her playful grins threatened to distract him from his duties.

She had been doing a lot of that lately – smiling at him and looking as though her love extended just as far as his.

Jorah forced himself to refocus on the present. It would be far too easy to become swept away by Daenerys' frequent attention. He couldn't allow his focus to be on anything but her safety. The crowds of Flea Bottom were unpleasant most normal days, but especially when the Queen was present. It was good to see so much support, but it made protecting her more difficult.

Jorah's eyes scanned faces and buildings until he grew weary of clothing patterns and repetitive expressions. He noted a nearby argument between a traveling merchant and a farmer. One man was angry at the other because of the horse and cart that blocked his shop. The merchant hadn't even bothered to properly secure his horse before engaging the other man.

Jorah's gaze then roamed over a blacksmith preparing to forge a dagger and a child escaping her mother's grasp to toddle after a drifting flower.

The daily activity seemed simple and harmless. So much so, that he almost smiled when the first strike of the blacksmith's hammer startled the merchant's horse. Without a tether, the terrified creature tore away from its owner and ran through the street, heavy cart in tow.

Catching the incident quickly, Jorah glanced further down the street. His stomach plummeted as he observed the child lingering in the dirt path. She had finally caught up to the flower, but she stood directly in the horse's path.

Instinct urged Jorah forward.

"Mormont, what in seven hells-," Tyrion sputtered, temporarily knocked off balance as Ser Jorah pushed past him and into the street. The knight moved quicker than one would think possible in weighted armor.

The sudden movement caught the attention of most nearby, including the Queen, who called out after her knight in confusion.

Tyrion followed Ser Jorah with his eyes and saw the cause for alarm. His blood ran cold with panic. A small girl stood in the middle of the street, alone except for the horse and cart barreling towards her.

Time stood still long enough to leave space for Ser Jorah. He caught the child in his arms and pushed her to the ground, throwing his body over top of hers.

There was no stopping the startled horse as it galloped forward and although the animal stumbled sloppily to avoid the knight, the cart kept a straight path.

Ser Jorah and the little girl disappeared beneath a cloud of dirt and dust.

A choked gasp sounded from beside him and Tyrion glanced up into his Queen's terrified eyes. She lurched forward, but Tyrion reached out a hand to stop her.

The entire commotion drew the attention of everyone nearby, but no one seemed to breath.

The air cleared slowly and through the dust, Tyrion saw movement. Relief took the place of fear as Ser Jorah pulled himself to his feet. The little girl clung to the knight, but appeared unharmed except for two thoroughly scraped knees and bloodied elbows.

The child's mother rushed forward, tears tumbling down her cheeks. Her relief spilled forth as muffled sobs. Ser Jorah passed the girl into the woman's waiting arms. Feeding off of her mother's emotions, the child began to cry in earnest. Pain and confusion had caught up to the poor girl. The woman thanked Ser Jorah repeatedly and touched his arm with shaking hands.

The crowd remained silent. The only activity came from further down the road, where several men had the sense to wrangle the horse.

All eyes watched Ser Jorah with a mixture of shock and awe. Their Lord Commander brushed the dirt from his armor and without a word, stepped to resume his position at the Queen's side.

Daenerys' hands immediately reached for him, dozens of emotions visible in her expression.

"I'm alright," Ser Jorah murmured, his head inclined towards her discreetly.

The Queen did not look convinced and Tyrion wasn't sure he was either. Ser Jorah seemed unharmed other than a cut across his nose and chin, but it was difficult to know if the wheels of the cart or the horse itself had grazed him. The poor man was covered in dust and injuries often hid well behind shock.

"I think it's time for us to return to the castle," Daenerys stated. There was an unmistakable quiver in her voice.

The crowd remained suspended in silence as the royal party departed. Tyrion couldn't blame them. Ordinary people expected ordinary days and they had just witnessed the extraordinary, a moment of true valor.

What struck Tyrion as most significant was that Ser Jorah acted without thought. Men could summon up the strength to be heroic, but often only when given enough time to call upon courage. Ser Jorah hadn't taken such time. His natural instincts were selflessness, bravery, and kindness weaved into an entirely different quality...one so rare that the Gods were only able to pour a few drops of it onto fated men.

"You're angry," Jorah stated, watching Daenerys pace back and forth in the War Room.

Once they were inside the Red Keep and it was clear Ser Jorah was not seriously injured, the Queen had dragged him into the closest room.

He was lucky, so very lucky, that the wheels of the cart had been spaced far enough apart for him to fit between them. His armor had suffered the scraping damage of the wagon's bottom surface and he escaped with little more than an abrasion or two.

"I am not angry" Daenerys denied, her elevated tone and hostile expression contradicting the statement.

You certainly seem angry.

Jorah did speak the words aloud, but his expression relayed the message. His nonchalance infuriated her.

She whirled on him, her eyes flashing dangerously.

"I'm not angry, I'm furious!" she shouted, stepping towards Jorah with a finger outstretched in accusation. "You were reckless and nearly got yourself killed!"

Jorah watched her closely, but his demeanor remained irritatingly calm. Hadn't she admired that about him not so long ago?

"Khaleesi-."

"No, don't say a word. Don't try to rationalize the possibility of your own death."

"It was a child. I couldn't stand by and do nothing," Jorah argued.

Daenerys squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her fingertips to her forehead. She knew he was right and she despised him for it. He was a brave man and while it was one of the reasons she adored him, she knew it would eventually be his downfall. The thought burned her in a way no flame ever could.

Footsteps trekked across the floor beneath her and Jorah's tall shadow appeared in front of her. He gently tugged her hand away from her face and held it in his own calloused palm.

Daenerys opened her eyes, but her vision swam with tears. Everything around her appeared blurry except for Jorah's bold, cobalt eyes.

Her fear always lingered too close to her anger.

"I-I'm afraid of losing you," she whispered, her voice breaking in the open air.

The words had barely escaped her before Jorah pulled her forward and wrapped his arms around her shoulders securely. Her knight often hesitated to initiate physical interaction between them, but never when she needed his comfort. His embrace was never far away when she felt herself searching for steady ground.

Daenerys closed her eyes again, but more contently than before. Her cheek pressed against Jorah's chest and she nearly disappeared in his arms. She relished the feeling.

Her knight rested his chin against her temple and ran a hand up and down her back soothingly.

"I would never abandon you," Jorah murmured, his voice vibrating against her skin.

"What if you're not given a choice?"

"The Gods have allowed me to remain by your side for this long, Khaleesi. They are aware of my stubborn nature."

Daenerys smiled lightly, but didn't respond. She tightened her arms around his waist, holding him closer in case he tried to pull away too soon.

When they finally did part, Daenerys held onto Jorah's hands and studied him closely. She admired the near constant warmth of his eyes and the strength stretched along the lines of his shoulders. Every time she looked at her knight, she found more of him to cherish.

"If you could see yourself as I do, you would never doubt your worth," she stated softly, dropping one of his hands to caress the elegant edge of his cheek. She couldn't stop touching him.

Jorah's eyes closed briefly, as though he were warring against himself and her now obvious affections. Denial was no longer an option for either of them.

"Jorah," she needed his full attention.

His eyes opened slowly and met her gaze again.

"I've tried to be patient for quite some time now, but that's your talent, not mine," she huffed.

An amused expression crossed Jorah's face. Past experience made him very aware of her impatience.

"I remember when Kraznys mo Nakloz accused me of being a beggar queen. At that time, it was a title I found repulsive and unfitting, but recent revelations have forced me to reconsider," Daenerys stated.

Confusion split across Jorah's brow, but she continued.

"For you – for us, I am willing to become that beggar queen, Jorah."

Daenerys meant it too. She would plead with him – beg him to accept her love before they lost anymore time. She needed him to look beyond the mistakes of her past rejection and see the strength of her resolve.

Jorah reached for her hand and removed it from his cheek. She half expected him to shift away from her, but he stepped closer instead. His palms gently cradled her cheeks. Daenerys almost gasped at the vivid emotions dancing across his features in the form of adoration. Her heart skipped on a hope-filled beat.

"I would never ask you to do that. You shouldn't devalue yourself for anyone, especially not me," he stated firmly.

Daenerys shook her head against his hands.

"Only you, Jorah. I would do it to prove to you how much I want us to be together."

"You don't have to prove anything to me. My heart never doubted yours, but my mind has been a bit slow."

Daenerys bit back her smile, which also buried the cheerful tears threatening to obscure her vision once again. She wanted to see him. She wanted to see him as clearly as he had always seen her.

"I want to be your strength, Khaleesi, not your weakness," Jorah's voice split at the edges. His thumbs brushed her cheeks with the faintest of touches.

You must be their strength.

"As you are mine," Daenerys whispered to the ghosts of memories formed long ago.

She couldn't be sure who pulled who closer, but suddenly there was no space left between them. Daenerys' fingers pressed into Jorah's armor and she was momentarily frustrated by the lack of fabricate that could be used to leverage him even closer.

Jorah's hands continued to cup her cheeks as he lowered his face to hers. His breath tickled her skin and without thought, her eyes fluttered closed. He lowered his head until their noses grazed against each other. There was one final moment of hesitation before his lips pressed against hers.

He kissed her with an infinite tenderness. A gentle sweep of his lips. A brush against hers that was enough to send her heart fluttering towards ideas of a paradise together.

Jorah's kiss told her of shared walks along garden paths, long nights curled up alongside each other, and smiles stolen between dark corridors. It felt like things she never believed possible. A promise of eternity and more.

Daenerys released a sound that could have been mistaken for either a moan or sigh of pleasure and melted into Jorah.

Her knight's hands dropped from her face to settle on her waist. Daenerys took the opportunity to loop her arms around his neck and deepen the kiss, demanding more.

Jorah parted his lips and matched her passion. He was never one to deny his Queen.

Everything about the kiss was potent. Soft lips brushed away the scratch of his beard and the scent of pine and rain consumed her. His touch was strong and her legs felt weak, but she didn't fear falling.

Jorah ended the kiss far sooner than she would have liked. She felt torn from a satisfying fantasy.

"The others will come looking if we are gone for too long, my Queen," he murmured through half-lidded eyes.

Daenerys slid her arms from his neck to secure them around his chest. She pressed her smile against his armor and tucked her head under his chin.

His Queen – she liked when he called her that. It wasn't meant as a possessive title, but one of complete honor.

To him, she was more than the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. She could have nothing and still be his everything.

For him, the title of queen was more than power resting upon an iron throne. To be his queen was to be the woman he cherished above all others.

What Daenerys felt in her heart could never be fully expressed in words. She could easily recount every other emotion she felt – sadness, joy, pain – but her love for Jorah was impossible to describe. It was too exciting; too complete; too consuming; too rare.

Glancing up at her knight, Daenerys thought of how she would would like to spend the rest of her life whispering words of devotion to him.