She slept without dreams, a sleep so deep it seemed she might never wake and when Dany finally stirred, the weight of her slumber bore down upon her and she feared she would be unable to open her eyes. Her violet eyes, still heavy, slowly opened and she blinked once. It occurred to her briefly that she was not dead, quite the opposite in fact, and she was not sure whether she was glad for it. She was no longer in the godswood, that was certain, and as she stared at the flickering firelight cast on the wooden ceiling above her, she knew she was indoors.

She was also warm, buried beneath thick blankets soft against her fingers and bruised limbs. She should be cold but she was not and she was grateful for that, at least. Dany shifted as she heard the crackle of embers. The bed beneath her was ancient, the headrest carved in dark wood spiraled with strong designs, a crude bear's head adorning the center. The room itself was larger than her own but was clad in the same banners and tapestries, images of forests and bears and swirling lines that twisted and curled.

Dany wondered if she was dreaming, if she was still in the snow, in Drogo's strong embrace, but blinked in surprise as she glanced towards the hearth. The fire was dying, a single log glowing above a bed of fading embers, and in front of it was her shift. It was tattered, practically shredded and patterned with earth and crimson. She realized it was her blood against the thin fabric, drawn from her by the forest and by the ice. A moment later, she glanced beneath the sheets only to see herself clad in a large, simple shirt that fell down to her thighs. She was naked it beneath it and as she pulled it up over her thighs, she could see the little knicks and bruises cut into her pale legs.

A noise came from across the room and she froze, her gaze searching for it and when she found the source, she relaxed. There in the corner, clad in thin blanket, was Jorah. This was his room, she knew instantly, he had taken her here. He had dressed her in his shirt and he had laid her in his bed to save her from the ice. He slept now, his muscled chest rising and falling beneath the blanket. My bear, her eyes grew soft as she looked at him, my sweet bear has saved me again. He looked so peaceful, so content that for the first time she found herself not repulsed by the markings dug into his face. It was simply Jorah, Jorah who had loved her and who had betrayed her, dreaming of something that made him happy. I never gave him that peace, she realized, how many nights did I rob him of sleep, of dreams of his home and his family? She watched as he rolled onto his side, curling up against the chill of the room. He would have been better off had he never met me.

His shirt smelled like him, she noticed, her gaze never leaving him. It smelled like wood and earth and stone and warmth. It was a comforting scent, simple against the rich perfumes she had known for so long. She turned to get a better look at him, to try and understand how the dying firelight fell over the sharp planes of his weathered face, but the bed creaked beneath her. Jorah's eyes instantly opened and she found her own met his. It was silent then, save for the crackle of the embers.

"How did you…" Save me, she wanted to say, but she choked the words back, "find me?"

"Lyanna said you were gone. She went to find and could not. She feared she had made you uncomfortable." His gaze grew hard. "You hurt her."

As I have hurt all of you. "I did not mean such, I swear it." Dany tried to rise from the bed, "I would never hurt her, ser Jorah." She was still exhausted and as she nearly stumbled forward, Jorah was suddenly there, tossing off his blanket.

His broad arms encircled her. "You nearly died," He growled, "I thought you dead when first I found you, so pale you near disappeared into the snow. You were a fool to leave the Hall to begin with, much less in the middle of the night without so much as a warning." If Jorah knew that it had been intentional, that some part of her had wanted to slip beneath the snow and appear reborn, glistening and ivory when the sun thawed the earth beneath it, he did not let on. "Were it not for...had I not heard you talking, I would never have found you."

"But you did," She said softly and Jorah grunted, helping her once more into bed. A silence fell between them and he did not meet her gaze.

"You need your rest. You need to sleep." He finally stated. She watched him walk across the room, leaning down to pick up his blanket. The shadows of the room fell over his broad back and Dany noticed that he was stronger than ever, her bear. His muscled shoulders were proud, his chest lithe but muscled and she knew she must have looked but a child, sick and frail, in his arms. "I'll have Lyanna come check on you in the morning."

He laid the blanket over her and as his hand moved past her, she stayed it, her slender fingers resting over it. Jorah flinched but looked to her, his bright gaze murky with anger and confusion. Dany swallowed hard, her voice choked with emotion as her pain and her sorrow rose in her throat, her voice but a whisper. "Why?"

Jorah stared. "Why?," She repeated, her fingers tightening their grip on his hand, "Why did you save me?"

He ripped his hand from her own and turned away. Walking towards the fire, he stated stiffly, coldly, "I swore an oath once. I have not forgotten it."

"But your oath was broken" Dany replied, "It was broken when you betrayed me, when I cast you from my service." A pause. "It ws broken when I watched you leave."

Jorah nudged the log in the hearth. "Broken vows are not forgotten vows."

"But you swore them to a Khaleesi, ser Jorah. You swore them to a Khaleesi of the Dothraki." She did not know why she was questioning him again nor what answer she was even searching for.

"I remember my vows."

"And that Khaleesi is no more! I have no khalasar, Jorah, no bloodriders nor handmaidens at my bidding. I have no horse nor have I a braid. I have no victories." Her voice grew dark with bitterness, her hands knotting into the blanket. "I am no Khaleesi."

Jorah did not look at her. "The Silver Queen, then."

A harsh laugh escaped her throat. "And what silver is there upon my brow, ser Jorah?

"The Breaker of Chains."

"And how many will be enslaved now that I have lost the Throne? How many more will know chains to fund an army?"

Jorah growled now, his knuckles white as he clutched the mantle above the hearth. His words were slow, as if each were a struggle. "The Mother of Dragons."

"I have no dragons!" Her voice cracked. She was yelling now, but she paid no heed. "I was made to watch as they were cut down. I felt their blood against my cheek! I watched it stained my boots." Tears sprung into her eyes. "I watched as-

"Daenerys Targaryen!" Jorah finally roared, shaking with fury as he kicked the fire and a thousand embers swirled around his leg. "Daenerys Stormborn," He strode towards h34, his gaze burning, "Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen!" His chest rose and fell as he awaited her answer, his breath coming quick.

"She died," Dany finally whispered, her voice void of the emotion that had threatened to overcome her a moment ago. "She died the day her dragons were butchered and the day her Throne was stolen and the day her hair was cut." She drew a little breath, her violet eyes meeting his. "And with her, so passed the last of the dragons."

Jorah was silence and the quiet settled between them. Finally, he sat down on the edge of the bed. His hand brushed through his thinning hair and he sighed, "I would have saved you once from the flames, had you not stayed my hand, and for that I would not see you lost to the ice, Daenerys." Jorah shook his head, biting down on his lip before continuing, "Since the moment of your birth, Daenerys Stormborn, all the forces in this world wanted you dead. Robert Baratheon certainly did and half the damned Realms would have cheered to hear of your spilt blood. The Free Cities loathed both you and your dragons, the promise of fire and blood you brought. Even the gods themselves, it should seem, wished you dead and broken, Daenerys. Everything in this world has conspired against you." He looked to her, his voice tinted with anger. "It was your destiny to die along ago. Knowing this, think you that I would simply stand aside and watch you fall to your fate, even now?"

Dany could only stare and Jorah ran his hand angrily through his hair again, drawing a deep breath. "Once, I stood at your side as friend and councilor and now…now, here I stand, no matter what title may grace you or whatever crown may rest upon your brow, here I stand."

He will never abandon me, she knew then, not even at the ending of this world he will be at my side should I allow him. The depth of the realization made her tremble. Even should this world end in fire or in ice, she knew then, Jorah will not abandon me. Her bear, her sweet bear, here he stood before her, strong and soft and gentle and ugly and kind and proud.

Dany stared at him a moment longer before her resolve broke. She threw her arms around him and buried her head against his chest. He stiffened in surprise, but she heard him sigh when she whispered, "I am so sorry."

"Daenerys," He murmured and she could hear the pity in his voice, "Daenerys, you need not-"

"But I do!" She interjected, "Jorah, I…I needed you there, I needed you at my side."

"…..Daenerys, I…"

"I needed you and you were not there and it…it was my fault. I sent you away."

"I….I would not have…you offered me a choice and I did not accept it. It was my pride that tore me away from you. It was not your fault."

Something in her snapped. The mantle that held her pain at bay, cloaking in beneath thick despair was burned away in the heat of her anger and her sorrow. Her slender hands rose to rest against the sharp planes of his cheekbones. Jorah swallowed hard, his bright eyes widening as she broke against him. "They butchered them, Jorah, they cut my children down. I was made bid to watch. I felt their blood on my cheek. It stained my hair and my dress and my boots. They screamed, Jorah, they screamed and still they were slaughtered as if they were naught but cattle. I thought I would drown in it, all that blood, that King's Landing would be swept away beneath it."

Jorah shook his head. "Daenerys, you…you need not...You need not remember such, Daenerys, not for me." He tried to look away but her gentle touch stayed his gaze.

"It would have been different, Jorah," She whispered, the prick of tears stinging her eyes, "You could have saved them, somehow, I know it." Say it. Say what you have known. "…You could have saved us."

He choked back a sob, his gaze blurry with tears. Dany finally allowed herself to cry, to weep for what she had known and what she had lost. Jorah pulled her close, his calloused hands trembling as she sobbed openly against him. He pressed his lips against her hair and she felt the scratch of his beard against her forehead. She clung to him as if she was drowning and she felt she was. That great wave of sorrow, of regret so pure it burning through her veins. Admit it now, her mind screamed as her bear held her, admit it.

"This was my fault," Her voice cracked, her violet eyes closing as he pulled her head to his chest. "All of this was my fault."

"Daenerys, no….no, do not think that," Jorah was insistent now, his strong chest rising and falling against her head. "This was not your fault. All of this…all that I heard, you did not bring this upon yourself."

"But I did, Jorah! Can't you see?" She shifted to look at him, shaking as she gestured to herself, tears coursing down her dirtied face. "I deserve to die because I should never have been born. I did not want you to save me, not from the snow. Think of it, sweet bear," Dany shook her head, a little sad, smile appearing as she admitted what she knew to be truth, "How many have suffered because of me? How many were lost because my desire for that Throne and how many countless more were brought into a war they deserved not. Because of me, the Realms will suffer under that bastard, because of me Westeros has known naught but fire and blood." Her fingers reached out to brush along the lines of his face, the ink cut into his skin as she shook her head once more, murmuring quietly, "Never did I plant a tree."

Jorah grew silent, his eyes closing at her touch. "There is still time, Daenerys," he said finally, "You are yet young. There is still yet sight in your beautiful eyes and there is blood that flows in your gentle heart. You were born to rule, yes, but need you a Throne to be a true ruler? Once you were Khaleesi, you needed no crown then." His voice grew softer yet. "Plant your trees. The earth will be glad of your gentle touch. It will not turn you away." A pause. "I will not turn you away."

She trembled.

I can rebuild. Jorah will teach me how. I have brought fire and blood, I have brought death but also can I bring earth and water. I can bring life. I am no daughter of Death. From death comes life and from fire comes earth. I can renew. I live.

Dany felt the grey mantle that had cloaked her for so long finally fall away. That terrible mist that had clouded her eyes and stifled her breath and settled into her bones was burned away. A little laugh of joy escaped her lips, one she could not hope back. Jorah was startled but remained silent as he watched her. And yet I breathe on, her fingertips stroked along the lines of his tattoo, along the ridges and edges of that demon, and she smiled despite herself, there is still yet life in these bruised limbs and blood flows in my broken heart. There was a beauty in the ugliness, in the sores still yet fading from her bruised limbs and in her messied, raven hair. She had been a fool to blind herself to it for so long.

Dany looked at Jorah as she never had before. She took in the proud arch of his shoulders and the muscled lines of his broad chest. She felt the rough callouses of his hands and the lean strength of his arms as they held her with a gentleness she could never have expected it. Finally, her fingers brushed along the markings scarring his face. He inhaled softly, his eyes closing. He had never been handsome, her bear, and he was hideous now, flinchingly so, but beneath that monstrous guise, Jorah remained.

And so also she remained.

Before she knew what was doing, Dany leaned forward and pressed her lips against his. Jorah froze and she felt him tremble, nearly drawing back from the movement. But her kiss remained upon his mouth and a moment later he returned it. The brush of his beard against her contrasted with the softness of his lips, the gentle sweetness of his mouth. How had she forgotten this? How good, how right it felt when he kissed her, when she tasted the mouth of her bear?

Jorah drew back a moment later, his eyes wide with confusion. No doubt he thought she was playing some cruel trick, some woman's game. It hurt her, to see him pull away from this, but she understood. Dany knew that she had been cruel unto him, had taken his kiss and returned it for naught. "Daenerys, you…" Jorah swallowed hard, "You do not mean this."

"I do," Her fingers brushed along his jaw and his eyes closed with a deep sigh. Let me show you, sweet bear. She leaned forward once more and he returned her kiss eagerly after a pause, drawing her close to him. She whispered his name and was briefly surprise when his lips parted for her, but Dany accepted his invitation and moaned as his tongue brushed along hers as it had so very long, that night aboard the ship.

Jorah deepened their kiss, his hands trailing lightly into her hair. Yes, she wanted to be touched by him, to have her black hair and her bruised limbs stoked by those calloused hands. She wanted it desperately and as she leaned back, Jorah followed until he was resting above her. A hand went out to steady himself, his body balanced above her as they continued to kiss each other hungrily. Her fingers traveled to his chest, rubbing up and down along the slender lines of muscle, and Jorah growled against her mouth, so low and deep she took note of the wetness against her thighs.

His other hand moved to cup her face and she arched her back, desperate for his touch. Dany found herself unable to think, unable to breath as her heart beat faster and faster within her chest. As Jorah nipped at her lower lip, she moaned loudly and threw her head back. Yes, she wanted this, she wanted him, her sweet bear, she needed him in that moment. Jorah had been soft and gentle, so tender at first she feared she might weep at it, for how long had it been she had known since as this? But he was a Mormont, he was a bear and as she urged him on, Jorah's need grew rougher. They kissed and touched each other with an absolute desperation, a feral need startling in its intensity. His mouth never left hers even as his hands trailed up and down along her side, too cautious yet to touch her when she needed him most. But still, his rough fingertips were gentle against bruised skin, exploring and seeking and wanting.

Eager to now to know him as she never had, Dany moved the palm of her hand to brush against the front of his breeches. His cock was stiff, straining against the fabric, and as she began to stroke against him, Jorah threw his head back with a deep groan. His arousal twitched against her hand, so hard it must have pained him, and his hips moved in time with her motions. "Daenerys," He moaned, his eyes closing with another growl of pleasure, "Gods…..oh gods, Daenerys,….Khaleesi…."

"Take me," She whispered in reply, pressing her lips to his gently, "Take me, sweet bear."

Jorah growled loudly and for a moment she thought he might finish then and there, his strong shoulders trembling. However, he moved from her touch suddenly, sitting upright with a determined sigh. Confused, she stared and he swallowed hard, no doubt painfully of the harness of his cock, but finally managed to speak. "You…you are not yourself, Daenerys, not..not entirely."

She opened her mouth to protest, her breath still coming quick but he shook his head, "You have been through much this day and I would not let your…your grief blind you. I…I would not have you regret this."

It must have killed him to say it, to admit he feared that while she would regret taking him here and now, but above all that she would regret him. In that moment, she loved him all the more. "I do want this," Dany sat up, kissing his cheek before he could stop her. "My sweet, kind bear, I would have…have this, have this night with none but you."

"But I cannot have just this night, Daenerys," Jorah said softly in return, his fingers brushing along her cheek, "I will not be contented to lie with you, to kiss you as once I did, and know that…that it did not…"That it meant nothing, that is what he wanted to say, she knew, as it did before. She was silent then, understanding of his fear; even if it pained her he had reason to feel such.

Dany nodded and moved to the edge of the bed. She had swung her legs over the side, determined to quietly return to her own room, but was stayed as Jorah's hand gently rested against her shoulder. Still now, she closed her eyes as he murmured from behind her, equal parts anxious and cautious. "You…you need not leave, not if you would…might care to stay."

Surprised, she looked over her shoulder and he continued softly, "Stay tonight, with me." She could hear the hope in his voice. "I will see you stay warm."

A few minutes later, after she had smiled and he had kissed her gently in reply, Dany settled herself beneath the thick blankets. Already she could feel the heat radiating from Jorah's form beside her and it comforted her, welcomed her and he did not protest when she set her head on his lean chest. A contented sigh escaped his lips and an arm curled around her, pulling her close against him. Dany said nothing else as she drifted off to sleep in his arms for there was nothing to be said. There was a silent understanding between them, a hope both wanted to see fulfilled.

And as her eyes closed and her breathing steadied, Dany did not dream of blood. She dreamed not of dragons and death.