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The Royal Visit to Winterfell was unexpected, Jon Arryn had died of an illness, and now King Robert and his family were honoured guests of Lord Stark and his family. Daenerys was going through a hidden servant’s corridor, when she came upon Lord Stark’s study and overheard part of a conversation.

“-stop that, Viserys was the son of the Mad King, he’d been crowned King himself by his mother, it’s a good thing that he’s dead.” She had never heard that voice before, but she knew who it was, there was only one man who would speak of her brother like that.

“Regardless of his blood, he was a child and deserved better than to be slaughtered by your dog.” This voice she had heard often; it belonged to Lord Stark himself.

King Robert Baratheon huffed, “The Hound is my son’s personal sworn sword, he did his duty. But enough about that, what do you intend to do about the girl? Tywin wants her wed to his dwarf. Tyrion is certainly more tolerable than the rest of them, but I won’t hand him the last living child of the King whose crown I took.”

“I’ve been fending off marriage proposals for that girl for years now. Dorne doesn’t care about her, they care about Elia and her children, her remaining a hostage is no deterrent to anyone, but we can’t just marry her off to anyone nor can we leave her unwed forever. I have been giving it great thought lately-”

Daenerys should have left, but her feet remained frozen, her ears straining to hear the words.

Robert interrupted, “I’ve thought about it as well, and I have a solution, wed her to someone’s bastard, there are plenty of those around. Seven hells, wed to your brother’s bastard, Jon Snow. Their children will be called Snow, none of them inherit anything, problem solved.”

“Her and Jon were raised as siblings, I will not marry them, besides, Jon promised himself to the Night’s Watch years ago.”

King Robert grumbled angrily, “Bloody Night’s Watch, pain in my arse I tell you, their Lord Commander sent me a raven about gatherings of Wildings under some ‘King Beyond the Wall’. As if I didn’t have enough to worry about already.”

“You would be wise to listen to the Old Bear, Lord Commander Mormont does not exaggerate threats.”

“Mormont…,” he rolled the name on his tongue, “Wasn’t that the name of that bannerman of yours I knighted after the Siege of Pyke? The one who knocked off everyone and won the final tilt at Lannisport then had the gall to deny Hightower’s offer of marriage to his daughter. Oh, how he infuriated all the Lannisters and those snobs of Oldtown. As cold as the North that one, is he still unmarried? How loyal is he to you? Where is his seat?”

She heard Lord Stark’s chair scrap against the stone floor as he shifted in his seat, “Aye, that’s him. Jeor Mormont’s only son, the current Lord of Bear Island, it’s a large island covered in forests and more bears than people. His lady wife had died in childbirth just months before the Greyjoy Rebellion, he’s remained unmarried since. As for loyalty, he’s steadfast and true to his word, but he’s not blindly loyal. He does as I tell him to, but not before making sure I’ve listened to what he’s saying.”

“He’ll do. He rebuffed Leyton Hightower by saying that he would have no children so the marriage would be a waste. Summon him, and have Daenerys married to him. She’ll live the rest of her days on that island far away from us all.”

The North was a cold place, but the insides of the halls of Winterfell were always warm, but Daenerys had never felt so cold. She could listen no further, she walked away and sought out the people who would answer her questions.

She found all three in Jon’s room, already dressed for the feast tonight.

“Dany, come inside,” Jon stepped aside to let her in, “Are you alright? Why aren’t you dressed for the feast yet?”

Daenerys wrung her hands together, “I’ll be dressed soon, but I need to know everything you know about Lord Mormont and Bear Island.”

Theon was the first to speak, “I know of him, he called the Bloodthirsty Bear on Pyke. Anytime a ship with a Kraken banner comes anywhere near his island he sends a small boat with a few men who come prepared to torch the ships. Any Iron Islander that gets left on Bear Island during the raids is hanged and their bodies sent to us.”

Robb scoffed, “And yet you still pick fights with him. Stop trying to raid his lands, and he’ll let you be.” He uncrossed his arms and turned to Daenerys, “Lord Mormont was knighted after the Siege of Pyke for valour. His house had held faith with the Starks for a thousand years, he’s a good and honourable man. Now if there is nothing else-”

“They’re going to marry you to him, aren’t they?” Jon, who had been watching silently, asked her.

“How did-”

“There’s been talk of marriage and alliances ever since they arrived. Lord Stark will be the new Hand, Sansa is to be betrothed to the Crown Prince, Bran is to be a squire, not sure to whom, perhaps Ser Barristan? Arya might join them in King's Landing as well, meanwhile Robb is to start ruling in his father’s name.” Jon sounded just a little bitter at the last bit.

And Daenerys didn’t know what to say to all of that. She has always been keenly aware that she is a prisoner, but Lord Stark had always been insistent on treating her and Theon the same as all the Stark children. She had never known any home other than Winterfell, and the Starks were the closest thing to family she had ever had. And now, everything would change forever. She would never braid Sansa’s hair, or listen to Arya go on about Visenya Targaryen, she would never read to Rickon before bed, or join Robb and Jon in teasing Bran. And she would lose Theon’s friendship, the one person who understood that despite having no chains around their necks, they were never free. Theon who never shied away from the fact that every minute we spent here was a punishment for the crimes of their family.

Robb put a hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her out of the room, “Go get dressed, mother is waiting for you. It will be alright.”

For you, not for me. Nothing will ever be alright for me.

Whenever Jorah travelled to Castle Black, he stopped and spent a night at Winterfell. The children liked his stories, and Ned appreciated the opportunity to send a gift of some sort, or even a personal letter, to Benjen through him. While he had been respected the same as any other lord, the goodwill extended to him had risen significantly after he had distinguished himself at Pyke.

And Lady Stark had been most kind towards him since he had saved her younger son from certain death while he was climbing the walls of Winterfell. Or so she thought. Young Brandon was already in the process of pulling himself up when Jorah reached for him. The boy would have been just fine on his own, but his mother had claimed to be in Jorah’s debt all the same. It made it easier to ask Lord Stark for help when grain ran short and there wasn’t enough gold to buy some directly.

And now, what was meant to be a harmless visit, had become perhaps the most difficult and important negotiations he had ever entered into.

He had arrived minutes after Benjen had, and had immediately been led to the Great Hall where the King himself, Robert Baratheon remarked that he was impressed with his speed. Jorah had barely knelt to pay his respects when Lord Stark had grabbed him and pulled him into his study where they were soon joined by Lady Stark and Maester Luwin. By then Dacey had their prisoners (some poachers and wildlings bound for The Wall) secured in the dungeons and had joined them along with Ser Rodrik. And finally, they were told what was required.

“You want him to be the new jailor to your Targaryen hostage?”

Jorah flinched when Dacey put it so bluntly, the last thing he needed was to antagonise these people.

I should have skipped Winterfell altogether and gone straight to the Wall, he rued. 

Ned Stark however, did not bat an eye. “I don’t. Daenerys was born at the end of that war. She had no part in anything her family did, she’s innocent. I would leave her free to choose where to live and whom to live with if I could, but I cannot. She is the daughter of an overthrown king, there are many who would use her for power. I have accepted the position of Hand and so I must depart for King’s Landing. It will not be safe for Daenerys there, nor can I keep her unwed at Winterfell forever. There have been many attempts to have her either killed or taken. Bear Island is far removed from the mainland, she will be safe there, it was my intention to bring you up as a possible suitor for her, but His Grace beat me to it, and now you have arrived in Winterfell the same night. The God’s have made it so.”

Had the Gods not been invoked, Jorah might have been agreed then and there.

“Do you speak of the same Gods who took my wife and our three children? If so, then I am reluctant to do anything they will. You talk of keeping her safe, what makes you so sure I could protect her? That I would not use her king’s blood for my own gain?”

“You have our trust, Lord Mormont.” Lady Stark had been silent so far, “Many lords come to us every moon, with their sons and daughters, and lavish gifts and outlandish demands all hoping to curry some favour at court. You come in your modest clothes, often by yourself, with a small customary gift made with the bears and timber of your lands, and stories for our children. You ask for nothing except some help when your trade does not go well, only so you can feed the few hundred that you rule.”

Jorah turned his face away at this praise, he had no need nor want for any of it. “I would be a sorry excuse of a Lord if I could not keep alive the residents of a single island.”

Ned Stark clapped his hands on his thighs and stood up swiftly, “As your Liege Lord, I can order you to do as I will, but I will not force you into this. Daenerys will do you no harm and will always try to help, that is her nature. I think you would enjoy her company if you knew her.”

Maester Luwin put a hand on his shoulder, “Take the night to think, and meet Daenerys in the morning, then decide.”

When morning came, Daenerys dreaded getting out of bed for she knew what the day held for her. Lord Mormont had arrived the night prior, and had spent some time alone with Lord Stark before retiring for the night. She would have stayed hidden, but Lady Catelyn had all but dragged her out of bed and gotten her dressed in her best dress.

“Come now, I understand this is sudden, but surely you don’t intend to spend the rest of your life as an unwed maid?”

Daenerys kept her head steady as her hair was braided, “I had thought I would become a Septa and teach your grandchildren. Or perhaps take over Old Nan’s position.”

Marriage was not something she had considered, because she never thought she would be allowed to leave. She had set foot outside the walls of Winterfell only once, when Theon had snuck her out to let her see the town just outside. The Holdfast was like a village on its own, and other than the armoury, she was allowed to walk wherever she wished, but outside was deemed too dangerous for her, so the little trip outside was like a forbidden fruit. And now, she would be shipped off to a far flung island altogether.

Nothing had been set in stone, but it might as well have been. The King and the High Lord had made their decision quickly, Lord Mormont would have no more choice than she did.  

Lady Catelyn sighed, “Would it comfort you to know that Lord Mormont has a love of books to rival your own?”

That was a comforting thought, “I thought he was a knight?”

“While most men are either warriors or scholars, it is possible to be both. On his last visit to Winterfell, he told Bran several stories from his time in Essos and convinced him to take an active interest in his studies. He will treat you kindly, and in time you and him may learn to love each other the way Ned and I learnt. Besides that, his household consists of an aunt and her five daughters. You will have plenty of women for company.”

She hummed in agreement, and thought about what had been said. You may learn to love each other. She wondered what that felt like, being in love with someone. Would she even recognise love if it came to her? Would it feel like the warmth in her belly she felt when she met that mysterious man at the Harvest feast two years ago?

She had thought about that man often, she wondered what his name was and where he could have travelled, she hoped to see him again, and she did meet him often in her dreams, but he never came to Winterfell again, or rather if he did, it had been when she was hidden away.

Daenerys was supposed to be in her room, hiding away, pretending she didn’t exist, away from everyone who had come to Winterfell to celebrate. Lady Catelyn insisted that it was for her own safety, that people hated her family so much that they might harm her for it, and while that might be true, Daenerys knew that it was also to protect themselves, for she was the blood of the dragons, and though she herself was a daughter, any sons she might bring into this world would have a greater claim to the throne than King Robert.

So here she was, in the late evening, hiding behind a hooded cloak, sneaking into the library, hoping that everyone was so engrossed in the feast that no one would notice her, when a dagger embedded itself into the wooden shelf she was browsing.

She whirled around and pressed herself to the shelf upon seeing the silhouette of a man standing by the window. He walked slowly towards her, with a tankard in his hand, and in the dim light streaming in through the window, she caught a few of his features. He was a foot taller than her, and certainly weighed twice what she did. He smelled of ale, and his slow lumbering gait proved that he was drunk. His hair seemed golden, but he was dressed in modest and plain wools.

For a moment they stood there, staring at each other, she could barely make out his features because of the shadows across his face. “Hmpf… I thought you were a thief.” He bowed his head in deference, “My apologies, dear lass.”

Then he took a step forward, almost touching her, and reached beyond her to get his dagger. Daenerys glanced at his face, and marvelled at the soft curls behind his ear, and the scratchy beard surrounding his thin lips.

“So, you too prefer to read than to enjoy a feast huh?”

In one hand he had a half empty tankard of ale, in the other he held a dagger, he should have been terrifying, but all Daenerys could do was notice how he leaned on one leg while he stood. His imposing presence, and even the fact that he had thrown a dagger at her, did nothing to scare her.

“I’ve heard that people who read travel to many places without ever leaving their chair.”

The man gave her a wry smile, “My mother used to say that. Reading is wonderful, but there is something different about travelling. I would know, I’ve done enough of both.”

Then he looked over her head again, and tilted his head. He reached out a hand, and pulled out a book that would have been out of her limited reach.

“This book, ’The Knights of the Seven Kingdoms’ , my mother read this to me when I was little, I asked if I could be a knight as well, she said no one would be prouder than her if I ever became a Knight. Now, I have a Knighthood, given by the King himself, but I do not have my mother.”

Something about the grief in his voice touched her, and without thinking she reached out a hand to this man she had only just met. He did not move when her fingers brushed against his cold hands, but he did look into her eyes.

They are beautiful , she thought, he is beautiful.

He gently pushed the book into her hand, and walked away without a sound, and she might have thought the encounter a strange dream, had the book not been solid and heavy in her hand.

Daenerys was now in the solar, waiting for the Lord of Bear Island, the northernmost land except for The Wall itself, removed from the mainland by more than the just the Bay of Ice, a harsh land with harsher people, to a man who was known for his viciousness on the battlefield, a man who liked to read and had travelled to Essos, a man who refused marriage to a Hightower and had only women as his kin.

If nothing else, Lord Mormont sounds interesting, thought Daenerys.

The door opened, and Lord Stark introduced her to Lord Mormont, but Daenerys did not hear a word, because it was him. The man from the library.

He took her hand, kissed it gently, his beard lightly scratching her skin, and told her his name.

“Ser Jorah Mormont of Bear Island. It is an honour to meet you, Lady Daenerys.”

“The pleasure is all mine, My lord.” And it was, for Daenerys had spent two years dreaming of this man, and now she knew him.

Jorah, she wondered if he would let her call him by his name.

Lord Stark said something about giving them a moment alone, then left. As soon as the door closed, Ser Jorah stepped away from her and settled in a chair, crossing one leg over the other.

“Tell me about yourself, what will make you a good wife?”

People from the South often claimed the Northerners had no manners, that they were savage, the truth was that northerners simply had no interest in wasting breath. They said what they meant without dressing it up in sweet honey and flowers and that was that.

Daenerys took a deep breath and began, “I know how to cook, clean and sew. I have been taught how to manage a household and regularly assist Lady Stark however she may need. I have been taught by a Septa and know the traditions of the North as well.” She hesitated for the last bit, “And I love to read.”

Ser Jorah remained stone faced, he tapped his fingers on his knee in contemplation.  “I will not lie to you. I have no interest in taking a wife and having children.”

And it happened. Theon had warned her so many times to not hope, telling her again and again that for people like them, prisoners disguised as wards, there would be no happiness to be found. But for a moment, when she saw the man from the library again, she had hoped anyway.

“That being said, everyone has been trying to get me married. From what I understand, the same is to happen to you. If his Grace would have his way, you would be married to some poor bastard somewhere and forgotten about. However, Lord Stark cares for you and would like you to be happy. I will not give you children, but my aunt and her five daughters should be good company. Bear Island is not rich in wealth, so you will have no silks and jewels, but you will not lack for the necessities. The island is cold, but I will keep you warm. You will be under my protection and no one shall ever harm you. My library is not as vast as Winterfell, but if I ever have gold to spare, I will gladly spend it on books you would like to read. Furthermore, I swear on the Old Gods and the New, I will not force you to consummate our marriage, nor will I ever attempt to keep you chained inside my holdfast, you will have the same freedom as the rest of my people.”

He stood up and walked towards Daenerys stopping just before her, “I have been asked to meet you then decide, they will not give you a choice, but I will refuse if you would tell me to.”

She held his intense gaze, “Lord Stark is your Liege, and Robert is your King. Neither of us can refuse them.”

“They can order me to marry you, but they cannot force me to say the vows. Take a moment and think, then decide. Only my death will break the marriage should you accept it.”

She considered his words, and what everyone had said about him.

“What do you mean, when you say you will give me freedom?”

“… Freedom to do as you will, as long as no laws are broken, and no one is harmed.”

She turned her head, “Explain.”

He frowned, but answered her anyway, “For example, if you want to go for a stroll, I won’t stop you, unless you decide to go out during the night, in which case I would stop you because the forests are dangerous at night.”

“You would let me leave your Keep alone?”

“I would send a guard if you wish to walk the forests, but if it’s to the village, then yes, you may go on your own. You are not a little girl, you can go to the village and come back on your own.”

“Why are you doing this, giving me a choice?”

Something in his eyes softened, “I am bound by oaths and duty, but sometimes, in little matters, I like to choose for myself. It is liberating, even if only for a moment, I would like you to feel the same.”

Liberating, that is only a dream for a hostage. I might be called a ward instead, and while they do care for me, I have never known freedom. This man, he knows nothing of me, and yet he promises to fulfil all duties of a husband, and swears he will not have me warm his bed.

“I refuse to believe you will do all this for me out of the goodness of your heart. Tell me, what will you get in return?”

“Lord Stark promised a very generous dowry. And it will get my family off my back about my bachelorhood. You also know how to cook, sew and manage a household, so your help will be welcome. All in all, it will be convenient to marry you.”

A marriage of convenience. I would like one out of love, but my dreams do not come true. And if I refuse him, who knows where I might be sent.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, “I accept. I will wed you, if you will have me.”

Ser Jorah smiled at her, “It would be my honour.”

Chapter Text

The wedding was a small affair, the Starks and Baratheon-Lannister family were the only noble families in attendance. Other than Lord Mormont himself, only one of his cousins was present. Daenerys had not spoken to him, or even seen him, since accepting his proposal two days ago.

She was dressed in a beautiful gown of silver, but the maiden cloak she had been given was not in her Targaryen colours of black and red, but rather the same as the Stark banners. She remembered when the cloak had been stitched, she had always assumed it was for either Sansa or Arya.

For the wedding, Lady Stark had asked if she wanted something specific. The only thing she could think to ask for was that Jon and Theon be seated in the front with the rest of the family. Lady Stark had sighed but agreed all the same. Lord Stark would give her away, even though King Robert was related to her. He had tried to argue for a short betrothal of a few months, but His Grace had wanted the wedding done as soon as possible.

“Well then, this is it. You’ll be Lady Mormont soon enough. How do you feel about that?” Lord Stark smiled at her. He, like everyone else, was dressed in his best clothes for the occasion. There was to be a feast after the ceremony. A feast, in honour of her wedding. She had always sat far in the back with Jon and Theon, out of sight, but this time she would be at the Head table, and Lady Stark had promised to have Jon and Theon in the front with the others. She was nervous about the rest of her life, but, “I’m excited about the feast.”

Lord Stark laughed, “I’m glad to hear it. Come now, it’s time.”

Daenerys stepped closer to him, but didn’t take his offered arm just yet, “You fought to keep me from being slaughtered. Then you raised me among your own. I can never repay you for everything you have done for me. Thank you.”

Without any warning, and to her surprise, Ned Stark hugged her tightly, “I did not father you, but I did raise you. You were born a dragon, but you grew up with the wolves of Winterfell. We are your family, and will always love you. Remember that. Bear Island is not so far from here, never shy away from visiting. We shall only be a letter away.” He pulled away, “Now come. We mustn’t keep them waiting.”

They walked out into the Godswood, Lord Mormont stood in front of the Weirwood with his cousin Dacey Mormont. The path to the heart tree was lined with lanterns, on one side stood the Northerners, on the other were the guests from the south.

“Who comes before the Old Gods of the forest this night?” Dacey asked.

Lord Stark answered as was custom, “Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen comes here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn and of noble birth, she comes to beg the blessings of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?”

Lord Mormont stepped forward, “Ser Jorah of House Mormont, the Lord of Bear Island. Who gives her?”

“Eddard of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, who has fostered her.”

And then the last question asked by Dacey, “Lady Daenerys, do you take this man as your husband?”

She swallowed and stepped forward, letting go of Lord Stark’s arm., “I do, take this man as my husband.”

Ser Jorah did not look away from her even once, he paid no mind to anyone around him, barely even glancing at Lord Stark.

She took Lord Mormont’s hand, and together they knelt before the face of the Weirwood and bowed their heads. After a moment of silent prayer, they stood up, and Lord Stark removed the cloak from her shoulders, and Ser Jorah unclasped his bear skin cloak, and gently draped it around her. The cloak was heavy and warm, and smelled of pine and… something salty?  

When she turned, she saw King Robert looking relieved, while the rest of his party looked bored, except for Queen Cersei who smiled at her but not in a way that reached her eyes. On the other side, the Starks looked genuinely happy for her. Perhaps, she would be happy too with her new husband.

What a beautiful word that is, my husband. It sounds lovely. Would he call me his wife when addressing me? Should I ask for it? Would he even agree?

After the wedding they went to the Great Hall to feast, where Lord Stark announced that the night’s meal, a roasted bear, was provided by Lord Mormont.

“Lord Mormont tracked and slaughtered the great beast himself, and now we shall enjoy the result of endeavours. Let us raise a toast in his honour and wish him and his new wife, Lady Daenerys, good health and good fortune in the winter to come.”

The toast was raised, everyone was loud and happy, talking amongst themselves, she saw Robb laughing with his arm around Jon, who seemed beyond pleased at being allowed to sit with the rest of them in the front. Sansa kept exchanging glances with the crown prince, ignoring Arya who teased her, and Rickon seemed to be talking Theon’s ear off about something.

For herself, well, she had realised within minutes that the high table was not as glorious as she thought, she would rather be down there with the others laughing with them.

“My hall is not so large, but we sit closer and are louder. I hope that will not bother you?” Lord Mormont was leaning towards her, his full attention once again on her.

“I grew up with three boys my own age, and two bickering sisters, I can handle noise.”

He smiled, “If you can handle bickering sisters, then I will be enlisting your help when dealing with my cousins.”

“Do they fight a lot?”

He huffed, “Depends on their mood. They will either kill for each other, or kill each other. It changes by the hour and I have long since given up trying to track it.” He pointed to the remains of the great roasted bear they had eaten, “I would rather face that with no weapon than deal with the angry she-bears of my kin.”

“They sound… formidable,” will they like me? she did not ask.

But perhaps Ser Jorah heard her anyway, for he reassured her, “They are harsh to their enemies, but you are family now, they will welcome you as my lady wife.”

“Lord Mormont-”

“Call me Jorah.”

She smiled, “Ser Jorah,” he snorted at his title, but did not interrupt her, “Tell me about your family.”

His eyes twinkled in mirth, “I could spend all night talking about them, but I won’t. I would like you to meet them and get to know them yourself. I have been told that I spoil my cousins too much, especially the younger two, so my opinion on them will be biassed anyway.”

“As you wish, my lord.”

“I thought I asked you to drop the lord.”

She blushed, “My apologies, my lo- Ser Jorah.”

He took a deep breath, no doubt preparing to tell her off again, but before he could say a word, the people broke into a song.

A bear there was

A bear, a bear

All black and brown

And covered in hair

How sweet she was

And pure and fair

The maid with honey

Up in her hair

Lord Mormont groaned and hid his face with his hands, he wore a couple of rings on his right hand, and had three bells tied around his left wrist.

The song continued, Robb and Dacey, with a tankard of ale each, were leading the rest of them in the singing.

He smelled her all

On the summer air

The maid with honey

Up in her hair

From there to here

From here to there

All black and brown

And covered in hair

I called the knight

But you're a bear

All black and brown

And covered in hair

From there to here

From here to there

All black and brown

And covered in hair

He smelled that girl

In summer air

The bear, the bear and maiden fair

The bear, the bear and maiden fair

The song was not one she had heard before, but she supposed it fit the two of them in a way. And everyone had certainly enjoyed it, except for Ser Jorah that is. He whispered to her, “I should have guessed they would sing that. It’s a bawdy tavern song, pay no mind to it.”

“I liked it, it was a nice song.”

Ser Jorah just stared at her. His staring was interrupted by King Robert.

“Now that everyone has eaten and drunk their fill in wine, let’s put an end to the night. A sword must have a sheath, and a wedding must have a bedding. Come on people, grab the newlyweds so they can get to it.”

Ser Jorah stood up immediately and grabbed her hand, squeezing it gently.

And she knew then, that his promises were worth their weight in gold. Lord Stark had a chamber prepared for them, so as to satisfy the king, while also giving them privacy. Ser Jorah had pulled out a small knife from his boot, and cut his thumb to bloody the sheet a little, making it seem like he had claimed her. He had then spent the night in a chair with his feet put up, and left the bed to her. They had talked some before she had fallen asleep.

“Like I said, my lady, it is liberating to have a choice every once in a while.”

“It is, but I am nervous about keeping a secret.”

“Don’t be. What we do in our marriage with each other is no one’s business but our own. Now go to sleep, we have a long journey tomorrow.”

“Towards Bear Island?”

“We’ll go to Bear Island, but first, I have to give you a wedding gift. For that, we must make a visit to the Wall.”

Rickon clung to her legs burying his face in her stomach, “I don’t want you to go.”

She brushed back his messy curls, “I know, but I have to go. I promise to visit whenever possible.”

Daenerys was so engrossed in comforting Rickon, that she didn’t hear Dacey walk up from behind her. She received a hard slap on the back for it. Dacey swung an arm around her shoulders and leaned on her, she was almost the same height as her cousin, dark hair braided while his golden locks curled, lithe where he was broad shouldered, and much louder and open to smiling than her silent and brooding cousin.

“What are you crying about, little boy?”

Rickon pulled away from Daenerys and glared at Dacey.

“You're taking Dany away!”

Dacey swung her braid over her shoulder, “Aye, and we’ll take you too once you’re tall enough.” She glanced at Daenerys, “The boy is part of your dowry,” she bent down a bit to address Rickon, “Drink your milk, eat your vegetables, and when you are taller than two feet, you’ll be the personal squire to one of the finest anointed Knights of Westeros.”

“And I’ll live with Dany?”

Dacey smiled, “And you’ll live with Dany.”

Rickon smiled brightly, and Daenerys returned his smile, but inside she wondered what Lord Mormont had meant when he mentioned the ‘very generous dowry’, because Rickon was not a sack of gold.

Dacey moved away and gave her a little push, “Go on, finish saying your goodbyes, we need to get going.”

Theon was next, waiting quietly in a corner like always, “Don’t let the bloody bear eat you. And remind him that if he ever hurts you, I’ll drown him.”

Daenerys ignored his empty words, “They love us, you know. We don’t have their name or their blood, and they would not have raised us if it weren’t for the wars our families caused, but at the end of it all, they do love us.”

Theon scoffed, but it was more defeated than it was derisive, “Not all of them love us.”

“Why focus on them? You’re my brother, now and always.”

“And mine too.” Robb smiled at Theon, then at Daenerys, “Don’t be a stranger to us now that you’ve found yourself a handsome husband.”

“I won’t.” She sighed, “This is it then, it’s time to leave. I wonder when we all might be at the same place altogether again.”

Robb crossed his arms, “Soon enough, I hope it’ll be when you make us uncles. Have you said goodbye to the girls and Bran?”

“I did, they were bickering so I gave Bran some advice on how to separate them since I won’t be doing it anymore.”

They were still laughing about it, when Lord Mormont came to fetch her, “Come my lady, we must leave.”

Theon pushed away from the wall he was leaning on, “Treat her well or I’ll drown you.”

Lord Mormont glared at him, “Your dear uncle Euron tried it as did several other of your kin, what makes you think-” he cut himself short when Daenerys placed a hand on chest, holding him back.

He stared at her for a moment, then addressed Theon without glancing at him, “She will be treated well Greyjoy.”

With that he walked away, Daenerys following behind with one final smile.

The trip to the Wall was promising to be an interesting trip for Tyrion, largely due to his travelling companions. There was a highborn knighted lord, a Targaryen hostage -who might have been his bride if his father had his way- and a bastard of the noble house Stark. A bastard who could have been named Sand as easily as Snow since he was rumoured to be the result of Brandon Stark’s decision to dishonour Ashara Dayne at Harrenhall all those years ago. Ser Barristan Selmy had refused to accompany them to Winterfell because of it, or so Cersei claimed.

The conversation started innocently, with Jon Snow asking Tyrion why he read so much.

“My father was Hand of the King for twenty years.”

“Until your brother killed that king.”

“Yes. Until my brother killed that king, the same king who murdered your grandfather and father. And yet, Lord Stark raised that king’s daughter as his own, and married her off to his loyal bannerman, one who was, I presume, part of the rebellion that overthrew her father. But let’s not forget my dear sister who married the new king, the same king who organised the recent wedding of the woman whose brother he killed with his own war hammer. Life is full of these little ironies.”

Tyrion watched all the reactions with amusement.

Jon seemed to regret opening his mouth and Daenerys looked like she wanted to hit him on the head with a rock.

Ser Jorah however, pulled out his sword and then, to Tyrion’s relief, a whetstone. “Aye, I fought in the rebellion, and I played my part in overthrowing my Lady wife’s father. And I saw your brother that day too, after your father had sacked all of King’s Landing.”

Mormont looked straight at him with piercing blue eyes, “They laid him out next to the king he was sworn to protect, and Rhaegar’s daughter too, poor girl had lost too much blood. He was truly a Lannister that day, all red and gold. I shall be grateful to him, for before Ser Jaime perished due to the injuries, he suffered protecting Elia Martell and her children, he managed to tell Lord Stark about Queen Rhaella being on Dragonstone which spared the life of the woman I have married. Now, are we done with talk of an old war, or shall I give a detailed retelling?”

Jon Snow was quick to words for once, “We’re done, Lord Mormont, thank you.” Then he turned to Tyrion, “A father is not by blood, a real father is who raises you. And mine and Dany’s father is alive and well. We were raised by Ned Stark, and he is the only father we have ever known. Now leave Dany alone, she’s done no wrong to anyone.”

“Dany? Is that what you prefer being called my lady?” Lord Mormont was leaning against a tree sharpening his sword that Tyrion noticed just then, was made of Valyrian steel.

“You may call me whatever you wish Ser, I have no preference on the matter.”

Either the Lord was blind or simply stupid. Tyrion wondered if Ned Stark had been cleverer than he looked, because Lady Daenerys was clearly smitten with her new husband.  

“Lord Mormont, tell me, when did you and Lady Daenerys meet?” Tyrion set aside his book for now, knowing he wouldn’t focus on it for a while at least.

“We met, two days before our wedding, when Lord Stark proposed the match to me.”

Lady Daenerys seemed disappointed, so Tyrion tried his luck at poking the bear.

“It seems your wife disagrees.”

And finally, the grumpy bear raised his eyes to look at the beauty that was now his, and raised an eyebrow in question.

“Well, um... we met, briefly, two years ago, at the Harvest Feast at Winterfell. In the library.”

“I’ve met a lot of people at feasts, and I spent a lot of time in the Winterfell library this time as well.”

A brutish knight in a library? “Doing what?”, Tyrion asked.

Lord Mormont blinked at him, “The same thing you’ve been doing this whole time- reading. My ability to travel has been limited, so I scratch my itch with books of faraway lands.”

Lady Daenerys perked up, “Lady Stark mentioned that you had spent some time in Essos?”

Ser Jorah and his cousin started laughing, even Benjen smiled into his cup.

“Aye my lady. I did spend some years in Essos, do not mention it in front of my father though. He has still not forgiven me that madness.” Lord Jorah stood up and sheathed his sword. “By eight, there was no place on the island I had not seen. So, my father started taking me to his trips to the mainland. By twelve, I had explored all of the Glover Lands, Winterfell and Wintertown, and all of Castle Black, Westwatch by the Sea and the Shadow Tower. The day before my thirteenth nameday, I took a small boat, rowed across the Bay of Ice, and spent the night in the Land of Always Winter. My father, perhaps realising that my curiosity would not be contained, requested Lord Manderley of White harbour to foster me for a few years and let me travel with his merchant ships to Essos. After six months, I took Lord Manderley’s blessing, the two pouches of silver he gave me, and stepped off in Lys. A sword and some silver can go a long way if you’re clever about it.”

Benjen broke in, “Oh I remember how angry the Old Bear had been when he got the news of your adventures. He and Lord Manderley nearly came to blows in Winterfell’s courtyard; my lord father had to pull them apart like they were children.”

“Father was worried his only heir would die in Essos.”

“It was a bit more than that Jorah.” Dacey disagreed only to be ignored.

While talking Lord Mormont had washed his hands in the stream and served himself a bowl of stew. He paused to settle himself next to Benjen Stark, “From Lys, I went to Volantis, then Bravos, before coming down to Pentos. Over there I met a Dothraki horse lord. Khal Bharbo’s son, Drogo took a liking to me for some reason and allowed me to travel with them.” He held up his wrist, “These three bells are for my victories during my time with the Dothraki. When I left them to return to Westeros, Drogo had just taken over his father’s Khalasar.”

“All of that sounds very exciting my Lord.” And there it was again. Daenerys’s eyes shined when she looked at her dashing husband- and he was handsome in a rugged northern way- Tyrion acknowledged, but the lord himself ignored it all together.

“I suppose it is, I’ll tell you more, but it is time we retire for the night.”

Later that night, in their tent, Daenerys asked her husband if the little Lannister’s words had bothered him.

He sighed and turned to his side to face her, “I meant to ask you the same, you know about Robert’s rebellion, don’t you?”, she nodded, “Well then, tell me now, do you hate me for it?”

Daenerys didn’t need to think about that, she had been asked that several times by various people over the years.

“Not at all. I know enough about what happened to accept that my father was not a good man, and neither was my brother. I do feel sorry for Viserys though, he was only a boy when he was killed, but as Lord Stark told me, his death was not planned, he attacked first and in the resulting skirmish he died. I sometimes wish I could have met my mother though; I’ve heard she was very kind.”

Lord Mormont lifted a hand and brushed her hair away from her face, “If there was a kind and wise Targaryen in the world, would you like to meet him?”

“I think so, I’ve never thought about it, but yes, it would be nice to know if there was someone like that.”

“Go to sleep now, we’ll arrive at Castle Black tomorrow.”

Chapter Text

“Where are the cloaks?”

“I gave them to King Robert and his two sons to thank him for my new bride.”

“And the bear’s meat?”

“We had it at our wedding feast.”

Lord Commander Mormont grunted and jerked his head towards the inner chambers of Castle Black.

“Introduce them, then leave them be and join me for ale.”

Daenerys was not certain what kind of welcome she had expected at Castle Black, but she was quite certain that was not how fathers were meant to greet their son and his new wife. Jeor Mormont had barely even glanced at her. She was used to people ignoring her, but this was her husband’s father. He had greeted Dacey warmly, accepting a hug from her and then telling her to go show his men how to spar, but his hands had remained at his side when he greeted Ser Jorah. Although, Ser Jorah had also stayed out of arm’s reach and kept his hands clasped behind his back.

She wanted to ask him about it, but held her tongue for now as there were too many people staring at them.

No, those men are staring at me. I lowered my hood, they can see my silver hair, they must realise who I am.

Ser Jorah did not pay attention to anyone, he simply held open a door for her. She stepped in, and smiled, the room was a library. Dusty and dark and musty, but a library filled with books all the same.

A soft, almost feeble voice carried from deep within the room. “Is that you, young bear?”

Ser Jorah smiled and walked ahead, “Aye, how did you know?”

She could not see the face yet, but she heard the smile in his voice, “For a large man you walk softly. Also, your father has been talking about your visit for weeks.”

Ser Jorah frowned, but did not respond.

They reached the end of the room and stopped in front of a very old man, dressed in black Maester robes, with a heavy chain, and unseeing eyes.

“Will you introduce your companion, or am I to guess?”

Ser Jorah shook the man’s offered hand, then said, “Maester Aemon, this is my wife, Daenerys Targaryen. I believe you two have plenty to talk about, I’ll be with the Lord Commander if you need me.” With that he made a prompt exit, leaving her alone.

Either my husband is wilfully callous, or it simply does not occur to him to think of others.

Maester Aemon settled back into his chair and asked her to seat herself, “You must think him as cold and harsh as the north itself- and I cannot fault you for it, he is rather brusque, even more so when near his father. It is rather rude of him is it not, to leave you alone with a decrepit old maester without even properly introducing us?”

Daenerys seated herself, “It seems to me that you know him better than I do.”

“He visits often, but enough about him, let us talk about ourselves. I have wanted to meet you for years, I have even tried writing to you, but I was always denied. The new residents of the city our ancestors built did not want me talking to you. Although what nefarious plots a little girl and an old man could hatch are beyond me.”

“Our ancestors?”

If there was a kind and wise Targaryen in the world, would you like to meet him?

“Yes, my dear. My father was Maekar, the first of his name, my brother Aegon reigned after him when I had refused the throne, and he was followed by his son Jaehaerys, and then at last his son, your father, Aerys, whom they called the Mad King.”

“You’re… I’m… we-” Whatever she would have said, was lost when she choked back a sob. Maester Aemon reached out a hand and brushed her cheek, wiping at her tears.

“I have shed many of these, do not hold them in, let them out my dear. No one shall judge you for it over here.”

Maester Aemon would spend the rest of the day telling her stories about their family and of King’s Landing and Summerhall and Dragonstone, but for now she would only cry on his shoulder.

Jorah was seated in front of his father, a table and two horns of ale between them, though it might have been the narrow sea.

“You have married a Targaryen.”

“They are not so bad father. You and Maester Aemon have been together for so long.”

The Old Bear glared at his son, “I do not share a bed with Maester Aemon. Nor will he be bearing my children.”

“What children? Maege had five daughters, and Aly already has one of her own. The future of House Mormont is secure, there is no need for me to have children.”

Realisation dawned on Jeor, “You haven’t consummated your union.” He did not reply, or meet his eyes. “Jorah, your match was arranged by your King, how could you do this?”

“Do not lecture me, I am no child.”

“Then why haven’t you done your duty as a man and consummated your marriage? Do you think Lord Stark will take kindly to this?”

Jorah slowly took a sip of ale, purposefully making his father wait for an answer before giving one, “Lord Stark wants her to be happy but more importantly he wants her safe from whomever would seek to use her because of her blood. I will keep her safe, as for happiness, she will find it herself.”

Jeor sighed, “This is about Elena isn’t it.”

“She’s dead. Nothing is about her.”

Aye, she’s dead, the same as your mother, and neither of us have been able to get out from under that grief and guilt.

Jeor had wanted Jorah to be better than him at everything, but the older Jorah got, the more he proved himself to be undeniably Jeor’s son. Right down to how he took the grief to heart.

He had arranged the match between Jorah and Elena Glover when they were children. They were quite the opposite in some respects, but Jorah was wild and needed to be settled if was to rule Bear Island. Jeor wondered sometimes if he had been hasty about the whole thing. After his wife’s death, everything about the island was painful, but Jorah had been a child so he remained in place. When he returned from Essos, he was a man, young and green, but a man all the same. He had not objected to marriage, and so Jeor had them wed immediately.

The objections had come when Jorah had found out his intention to leave. In what was either brilliance or sheer stupidity, Jeor had asked for a spar. Jorah disarmed him within minutes, and then quietly accepted both Longclaw and the Lordship.

That silence had remained - at least once a year Jorah visited, and every single time, they ended up like this. Silent and brooding, quietly disagreeing about something or the other, never able to actually talk about anything.

“Elena was a good wife, but she is gone now. Daenerys deserves a chance at being your wife. You have married her, now make her your wife.”

“You never took a second wife after my mother died.”

“I had a son and heir. And if I had taken another, who was to say she might not have harmed you to secure the rights of any children she might have had?”

“And if you had no children of your own? Would you have done your duty and taken another wife or would you have let the Lordship pass onto Maege?”

Jeor couldn’t answer that, because to answer it, he would have to consider the possibility of a world where Jorah did not exist. That he could never do. He thought he had known happiness, but every joy he had ever felt in his life paled in comparison to the feeling of his new born son in his arms.

Jorah deserved to know that joy. He deserved to have a child of his own he could love. He deserved to raise that child with a woman who was alive instead of just wallowing in the grief and guilt from the death he had seen. And as his father, Jeor had a duty to ensure that his son would not foolishly cheat himself out of happiness.

“I would have taken a new wife, and had a child with her. That is the duty of a Lord.”

Jorah nodded quietly, but he could not hide the hurt and disappointment in his eyes.

His mother’s son indeed, try as he might to hide it, his heart is always on his sleeve, thought Jeor. His visits are the best part of my life, and yet every time he comes, I hurt him. The things we love destroy us, but perhaps we also destroy the things we love.

“That being said, another son would not have been like you. You take after your mother, and I am glad for it.”

Jorah remained silent.

What more can I say, I haven’t seen your smile in so long…

“I have many regrets in my life, but having you was the best decision I made.”

Jorah looked surprised, but when lifted the horn to drink, Jeor saw his lips twitch in a small smile, and he let his stubborn boy see his grin.

Later that night, when Daenerys and Aemon joined them for dinner, she looked at Jorah as if he had hung the moon in the sky. And when they went to the chambers for the night, she hugged him as soon as he closed the door.

“Thank you, I can’t thank you enough.” She mumbled into his chest.

After hesitating for a moment, Jorah wrapped his arms around her.

“I’m glad you liked your wedding gift. We need to return to Bear Island soon, but you may write to him as often as you wish.”

For some reason, that made Daenerys cry. Jorah, not knowing what else to do, picked her up in his arms and laid her gently on their bed. He climbed in next to her, and just held her, stroking her hair, letting her sob on his shoulder. They remained that way through the night.

Breakfast started as a lovely affair, Daenerys sat on one end of the table next to her husband- how she loved that word- and Maester Aemon was in front of her, with Jeor Mormont next to him, and Jon and Uncle Benjen further down with Dacey and the imp. They had been chatting idly, when someone called her princess.

“I never thought they’d let you out of Winterfell princess Daenerys.”

How she hated that word. She had never been a princess and she never wanted to be one either. Especially not since what had happened years ago with that cruel and terrifying lord.

She had only been a little girl, when that lord cornered her in the halls of Winterfell.

“Princess Daenerys, I am terribly sorry for your loss.”

Daenerys looked up at him, “I’m not a princess. I’m just Daenerys.”

The man knelt down to be level with her, “Is that what they tell you? They have not only taken away your birthright, they have not even told you of it. They have already slaughtered your poor brother, my princess, they will do the same to you.”

Daenerys was frightened of the man, but curious all the same, “My brother?”

“You have not been told, I’m sorry to be the bearer of such news princess, but your brother Viserys, who was a hostage in King’s Landing was killed recently. They claim it was an accident, that they only meant to capture him, but the truth is it was too dangerous to have someone of his blood alive. It will be too dangerous for you as well.”

Daenerys had been told she had a brother in King’s Landing, Lord Stark had promised to take her to visit him someday. She felt tears prick her eyes, “Viserys is dead?”

“Yes princess, soon you will be too, so you must come with me.” He held out his hand, “Take my hand, and I will make you the Queen of the seven kingdoms.”

“Lord Bolton!”

A guard of House Stark yelled out at them, he quickly ran over and grabbed Daenerys roughly, dragging her away, cursing at her, saying things about mad dragons and fire. He opened a door and threw her onto the floor. She scraped her hands and knees on the rough stone, and looked up to see Lord Stark walking towards her, the very definition of rage. She tried to back away, but he ignored her and grabbed the guard by the throat and pinned him against the wall.

“You’re a foolish man, trying to hurt that girl while I’m still alive.”

“My lord, she’s plotting treason-”

Lord Stark pulled the man towards him then slammed him into the wall with force. “I don’t care what reasons you have, you made a grave error when you hurt that little girl.” He turned to Ser Rodrik, “Lock him away.”

When they were all gone, he took a deep breath and turned to her.

She started crying harder, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I don’t want to be a princess, I’ll be good, please don’t kill me, I’ll be good I promise…” She repeated those words over and over, long after Lord Stark had gently picked her up and kept her in his arms while walking up and down the length of the room.

It took him some time and coaxing, but eventually he got her to stop crying, and was soon seated in front of a fire with Daenerys on his knee, where he told her a brief version of her house’s history from Aegon’s conquest to Robert’s rebellion, then ending with Viserys’s death.

“His death is a tragic thing, he was a little boy, and he deserved better. But I promise you, child, no one will harm you in my presence.”

And he held true to it. No one had hurt her again, and she had never been left alone to wander around. In fact, that incident was what had prompted Lady Stark to have her hide away out of sight whenever visitors came to Winterfell.

Maester Aemon’s words brought her back to the present, “She’s no more a princess than I am a prince Ser Alliser.”

“You took your vows willingly Maester, she’s been forced into it all.”

Jon stood up, “Leave her alone or else-”

“-Or else what Lord Snow? Shut up and sit down, bastard, know your place.”

Jeor Mormont set down his fork, “I could say the same to you, that’s my son’s wife you’re referring to.”

This is getting out of hand , thought Daenerys.  

“Lady Mormont.” She looked at this man, whoever he was, “I am married to Lord Mormont, as such my proper title is Lady Mormont.”

And finally, Ser Jorah deemed it necessary to join in. “Calling my lady wife something other than her title without her permission is an insult to her honour. When I am done eating, we shall settle it like men, with steel.”

Ser Alliser scoffed, “Don’t think I’ll go easy on you because the Lord Commander is your father.”

Ser Jorah smiled, “Don’t think I’ll go easy on you because my father is the Lord Commander.”

Ser Alliser walked away and Ser Jorah gave her a proud smile. “That fire of yours, keep it burning. Winter is coming, and we’ll all need that warmth to survive.”

Jorah had played off Ser Alliser’s words, but they had worried him deeply. Lord Stark had told him of all the times someone had tried to take Daenerys, or tried to hurt her, and had warned him of all the people who had written to him about it, hoping to use sweet words to get closer to her for whatever reasons.

He hadn’t expected to have to pull out his sword to defend her so soon, and certainly not at the wall. How many other Targaryen loyalists were roaming about hiding in the woodwork, waiting to pounce on Daenerys?

The spar was quick, he danced around Thorne and humiliated him soundly. His father had praised him, Jon Snow had been impressed, Daenerys was embarrassed at the whole mess, Dacey had cheered him on. But it was Maester Aemon who voiced the words he held in his heart.

“She is in danger; you need to return to Bear Island as quickly as you can. News travels fast, she’s the last able-bodied Targaryen alive, one ambush on the road is all it will take.”

It was true. Dacey and Jorah alone couldn’t protect Daenerys if twenty trained soldiers attacked them on the road. Bear island though, was well defended with its natural lack of harbours and all the icebergs in the bay. Years of raids had forced Jorah’s hand into appointing guards at the perimeter; no ship could come near the island without his will. Just a few years ago he’d had his men beat away a slave ship that had dared to wander in their waters.

And while Ser Jaime had tried, he had been unable to save Rhaegar’s daughter, and the son was left simpleminded due to a blow to the head. Rumour was the boy could not speak more than a few words, but he still remained a hostage at Storm’s End. Elia Martell was returned to her brothers in Dorne, but every year Oberyn Martell sent a request to visit Winterfell. Winterfell itself was dangerous, there were too many hidden passages, too many people coming and going all day. Bear Island had a few hundred, and all were loyal to the Mormonts, there would be no backstabbing there.

The next day, they left before dawn.

“Did you send a raven to your mother?”

Dacey paled, “I meant to do it when we reached Winterfell.”

Jorah pinched the bridge of his nose, “And now we’re on the ship heading to Bear Island with Maege none the wiser. I will be the one yelled at for this.”

“The salt waters!” Daenerys exclaimed. She saw Dacey and Jorah’s questioning looks and blushed, “The bear cloak you gave me, it smells like pine and salt water.”

“Hmm.” For a moment Jorah forgot everything, and stared at her smile. She was beautiful, and she was sweet. The nights he had slept next to her were peaceful, he had forgotten how good it felt to not sleep alone.

He didn’t know if he had it in him to love her as she deserved, but he could enjoy her company and hope she enjoyed his.

The marriage was convenient, all he had to do was protect her, which would be easy once they reached ashore, and in return, he would receive the honour of fostering the youngest Stark boy, a close alliance with the current Warden of the North and his heir considering how dearly they loved his wife, and a small trade agreement with the crown that would ensure he never went into debt to buy grain again.

But he might have said yes to the match anyway. He had lied in front of the Imp, though he could not say why. He did remember her from the library, he had almost killed her with his dagger, and then ended up sharing his favourite book with her.

“Dacey, run to the Keep as fast as you can when we dock, Daenerys and I will come slowly.”

Jorah explained to Daenerys even though she did not ask, “Maege rules in my stead whenever I come to the mainland, she needs to be informed of our marriage so that she may make preparations for our arrival. You are to be the new Lady of Bear Island.”

“She doesn’t know you’ve gotten married?”

Ser Jorah took her hand and squeezed it. “It’s not a thing to worry about, they will welcome you. And you don’t need to take over the duties right away, you can explore the island and get settled, then when you are ready, Maege will show you the ropes, and you can take over at your own pace.” He looked over her shoulder, “There she is, your new home.”

She turned around and gasped, “It's beautiful.” He smiled and put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed.

Perhaps it would not be so difficult to keep her both safe and happy, thought Jorah.

Dacey grabbed a horse and rode uphill as soon as they docked, Daenerys and Jorah took their time coming down from the ship.

As soon as everyone saw her silver hair, they stopped to stare. The normally bustling docks rarely stopped for anyone, so many times Jorah had come back from the mainland and gotten barely a couple of respectful nods from the dozens of people who milled around their main village. But today everything came to a halt. It was the same kind of staring and whispering as at Castle Black, that he had stopped with a quick glare after Daenerys entered the library. But he could not glare at these people, each and every one of them were his to care for.

“Lothar, bring everyone to the village square, I have an announcement to make.”

The village square was a clearing where he held meetings with the older villagers, and also where bonfire night was conducted. He took Daenerys’s hand and led her. Soon, most of the village was gathered at the square, they all quietly turned to him and waited for his words. The last time they had been this quiet was when he had told them of Elena’s passing. He pushed away those memories and pulled Daenerys to stand next to him instead of hiding behind as she seemed to prefer.

“This is Daenerys Stormborn, former ward of House Stark. On my recent trip to Winterfell, Lord Stark and his Grace, King Robert Baratheon, were kind enough to arrange a match between us. Congratulations to you all, Bear Island has a new Lady!”

For one terrifying moment, Jorah thought they would remain silent and unwelcoming, but they proved him wrong.

“A very pretty wife and she’ll ought to give you very pretty children, m'lord!”

A laugh went out, followed by some blessing thrown their way, a few jokes about how she’ll fit in, some talk and then Jorah told them he would take audiences starting tomorrow unless it was an emergency.

Then they made their way up to the Keep. Right at the gate, they were greeted by the sound of Maege’s yelling.

“-that daft lad! I don’t care that the king chose his wife, the wedding should have happened in our Godswood with all of us present and he’ll be hearing about it whether he likes it or not!”

“He’s already heard about it, now stop yelling or you’ll scare off my new bride.”

He could feel Daenerys stiffen up, but she bravely stepped into the courtyard while tightly gripping his hand. Hearing his voice, everyone had immediately straightened up. They stood in a line with the oldest to youngest from right to left.

Normally they tended to avoid formalities and traditions amongst themselves, but for Daenerys’s sake Maege followed them today. “Lord Mormont, welcome back, I hand over Bear Island to your capable hands.”

Jorah nodded, and began the introductions.

“My aunt Maege, she helps me with governance and acts as my right hand. You’ve already met Dacey, our heir and the best dancer on the island. Where’s Aly?”

“Sleeping, she was up all night with her baby.”

Jorah sighed and moved on, “This is Lyra, she sings and will soon be better than me at swordplay. This is Jorelle, if you want to explore the woods or anywhere on the island, take her with you.” Then he picked up their youngest. “And this is the sweetest one of us all, Lyanna.”

Lyanna Mormont glared at her cousin, and said in a steely tone, “Put. Me. Down.”

Jorah ignored her glare and smiled at Daenerys.

It was late at night, she had put the girls to bed, Daenerys was settled into the Lord’s chambers for now, Jorah had asked her to have another private room prepared or her. The evening had surprisingly been a quiet one, Aly’s daughter had kept her occupied, and Lyra and Jorelle had just returned from a hunting trip so they were tired, and Dacey had kept Lyanna busy with some reading.

So now, Maege had the opportunity to tan her dear nephew’s hide.  

She settled into a chair next to him, “Care to tell me what is really happening?”

He tossed a roasted peanut into his mouth, “I went to Winterfell, there was a Royal Visit happening, Lord Stark and King Robert offered me Daenerys, and I accepted.”

Maege nodded, “Hmm. Give me the truth now.”

He chewed some more peanuts, “You wanted me married, now I’m married. I got a good dowry too.”

“Married to the Targaryen hostage, the last living child of the Mad King, who you need to protect from the Lannisters and the Martells and Gods know how many others who would either kill her or use her. Then there is also your oath to never have children, and a fresh cut on your thumb, which means, you haven’t even consummated the marriage.”

They sat in silence for a while. Maege had no sons, but she had never needed one, not while she had Jorah. He was only fifteen years younger than her, but he was hers as much as the ones she had birthed herself. He had been a little boy when they lost his mother, she still remembered how he had come to her, poking his head in at the door, and asking to sit with her late one night.

And now thirty years later, they were still in that room, sitting quietly, her waiting for him to open his heart for a few minutes.   

It was here that he had told her how much it hurt that Jeor had taken an oath that forswore him, wondering if his father no longer loved him enough to call him his son.

He’d been Lord for less than a year when Lord Rickard was killed, and Elena had died weeks before Balon Greyjoy declared war. It was in this room where she had discussed plans for battle and plans for what to do should he not return.

It was in this room that he had told her that he felt the Gods had punished him for his sins by taking away his wife and their children.

“How many wives did I turn into widows? How children were left fatherless?”

The wars had changed him. He had become calmer, more focused on his duty, but he brooded more as well. The only times he truly smiled was when he was messing about with his cousins.

“Ned Stark asked for Lyra’s hand for his heir. He said for dowry I could give him a bear cloak and that would be it, she would be the next Lady Stark. I had to say no, because for one, I swore I would not marry any of them without their choice, and secondly, I suspect Lyra would rather take a wife than a husband.”

“Did you tell him that?”

“Only the first part. No one needs to know the second bit. I asked for his younger son instead, as a knight I can take a noble boy as a squire, and the youngest is said to be as wild as his direwolf, he'll be comfortable here. Rickon is the same age as Lyanna too, so at the very least they may become friends.”

“And House Mormont shall have the honour of fostering a trueborn Stark son.”

“The trade agreement with the crown and the one with Winterfell, will bring in enough that we won’t ever be in debt again. And we’ll likely have some extra as well.”

He fell silent again.

“So that’s why you married, to get more gold and cosy up to your liege lord? That doesn’t sound like you.”

He took a deep breath. “The gold and the relationship, will give the girls the freedom to live as they choose after I am gone. They don’t need a man on this island, but if they ever chose to leave, I will have enough to pay a decent dowry, or enough to let them travel as I did or any number of things they might want.”

“And what of your freedom? What of your choice?”

After avoiding her all day long, he finally looked at her, “I’ve made my choice. I could have refused the match; they would not have forced me.”

“Jorah…”

“Don’t tell me it’s the wrong choice when you did the same for me. I know you broke off your betrothal to Galbert Glover after my mother died so you could stay here and raise me.”

Maege turned away, “How long have you known?”

“I saw you marry him under the Wierwood in the middle of the night. I wasn’t lying to father when I told him that Dacey was not a bastard and had every right to the Mormont name.”

Silence.

“I don’t regret it. Jeor was too lost in his grief and guilt, you needed someone to take care of you.”

“And I won’t regret this either.”

Chapter Text

In the morning when she’d woken up Ser Jorah had been nowhere to be found, and Daenerys had promptly gotten lost in the halls. She came across a room with a woman sitting by an open window with a small bundle in her arms. “Hello, you must be Alysane, we weren’t able to meet yesterday.”

“Just call me Aly, love. Come, you’re Jorah’s new wife I hear? Mother told me about you, I thought he was just visiting his father at the Wall; never would I have thought he’d bring home a bride.”

Daenerys seated herself on the other side of the window, “To tell you the truth, the whole wedding affair was a quick one. We were introduced and then married two days later.”

The babe in her arms started fussing and Daenerys couldn’t help herself.

“May I?”

Aly gave her a questioning look.

“When Rickon was born, Lady Stark let me help with him. I learnt how to take care of a baby then. I’d like to help.”

Aly glanced down at her daughter, “We haven’t picked out a name yet, and she doesn’t like most people, but my arms are tired as is the rest of me, so why not. Knock yourself out.” And with that she all but dumped the baby girl in her arms.

Daenerys smiled at the sweet baby in her arms, and rocked her gently, within minutes she had fallen asleep.

Aly looked impressed with her, “Well, I’ll be damned. She likes you.” She stroked her daughter’s cheek, “The last person to calm her down so quickly was Jorah. He has a way with children, but then again, he’s practically a father to my two youngest sisters.”

“At our wedding feast, he mentioned he’s been accused of spoiling them too much.”

“That’s because he does spoil them! Have you met Lyanna yet? He’ll let that one get away with murder. Funny thing is she doesn’t really listen to anyone except him and sometimes Dacey. They drive mother up walls all day long. But somehow, I’m the one who’s been in hot water with her since I had a child, as if she hasn’t had five.”

Daenerys quietly nodded along, letting her talk.

“Sorry, you probably don’t want to hear about our family drama.”

That hurt, “I’ve married into the family now…”

Aly closed her eyes and grimaced, “Yes, yes, I didn’t mean to… ugh, it’ll take some time to get used to Jorah having a wife again. But yes, you married into this house, and you're one of ours now. Don’t ever forget that. Anyway, when are you making Jorah a father?”

Daenerys blushed, “I don’t know, it depends on him.”

“Well, he’s a stubborn man, so to deal with him you’ll have to be doubly stubborn.”

Daenerys appreciated the advice, though she wasn’t sure what to do with it. “I will. May I ask who your husband is? I haven’t seen him so far.”

Aly laughed, “Don’t have one, nor do I need one. You see, Mormont women are skin changers, my daughter was fathered by a bear from the woods.”

“Uh… what?”

“Don’t listen to her, she’s insane.” Dacey stuck her tongue out at her sister, “Come on, breakfast is getting cold. I’ll give you a tour of the Keep after so you don’t get lost with only this one for company.”

Aly smiled some more at her sister’s insult, but said nothing in response, only took back her daughter form Daenerys. She wondered if there was ever a chance of Ser Jorah changing his mind and giving her a child of her own.

A futile dream most likely, but a good one nonetheless.

Maege had refused Jorah’s request to give Daenerys her own room.

She’s your wife, go be her husband, was all she said on the matter when he tried to discuss it. For two weeks they had been sharing a bed, but that had been temporary. Now he had to deal with the task of telling that to Daenerys. Technically, as the lord he could disregard Maege and have a new room prepared for her, but disobeying his aunt required a certain amount of foolishness and courage that Jorah did not possess.

“My lady, I have some unfortunate news to share with you.”

Daenerys immediately set aside the old book about Old Valyria Maester Aemon had gifted her and went to her husband. He was worrying his rings, so he took her hands in hers.

“What is it?”

Jorah glanced at their clasped hands for a moment, “Your hands are quite warm.”

“They always are, but what were you going to tell me?”

“Ah yes, well, you see, I will not be able to give you your own separate bed chambers, you will have to remain in mine.”

Daenerys blinked; does he dislike my presence so much? she wondered. “I do not find that unfortunate.”

“You don’t?” Jorah was surprised at that; he had thought Daenerys would be upset at being forced into close quarters with him.

She shook her head, “No, I don’t. Perhaps if you were in the habit of snoring loudly or kicking out in your sleep then it would have been an issue but as it stands, I do not mind sharing a bed with you for the foreseeable future.” She paused, “Do you have any objections?”

“None.” And he truly didn’t, it was nice to sleep next to another living person instead of being alone in a cold empty bed.

He glanced down at their clasped hands again, and carefully let go of hers.

“I’m heading down to the village to discuss the preparation for our Harvest festival. Would you like to come with me?”

“I would, perhaps you could show me around while we’re there?”

“There isn’t much to see, but I will.”

Soon they grabbed their cloaks and were out the door heading down the winding path to the main village.

Jorah felt this would be a good time to tell Daenerys about the island’s residents. “The Mormonts are the only Highborn on the island, as such we have no vassals of our own, only a few hundred commoners. There are about four hundred residents in total at the moment, as such there aren’t many people who do only one job. The lumberjacks work as builders, the hunters help in farming, the fishwives weave baskets and stitch and so on. We have some dedicated people who lead the others, such as the ship captains, but most people have multiple skills out of necessity.”

He offered her a hand when she almost stumbled over a tree root, he made a mental note to have someone clear out the path before the snows set in.

“There are settlements here and there, some random cabins in the woods, but for the most part our residents are divided into two villages- the fishing village and the farming village. The harbour is in the fishing village, that’s where we docked when we came back from the mainland, it’s where we get all our trade there as well and as such it’s the larger village. The smaller farming village is on the far side of the island, a few hours ride by horse.”

“And what does the harvest festival at Bear Island look like?”, Daenerys asked.

Jorah smiled, “It’s the greatest celebration on this island. Summer is at an end, a brief autumn then it’ll be winter. Most lords hold Harvest feasts, we have an entire festival. The crops are being harvested as we speak, and our ships are returning from trade. Everyone will be on the island that day, and we shall celebrate all day long. Then at night, we shall gather the wood and other left-over things to burn, they will be kept aside, and burnt after the first winter storm. We call that ‘bonfire night’, but that is still a way off.”

They arrived at the village, the trees were evergreen, and the sun was shining for now. There was a little snow around the edges, but the paths were clear. They made their way to the village square, where people were milling about setting up stalls and lanterns around the posts.

Dacey and Lyra were helping an old woman set up a stall with scarves on display.

Ser Jorah led her towards them, “Betha, where are those grandsons of yours?”

The old lady, Betha, nodded at him, “The older has gone with the lumberjacks, he’s big enough to swing an axe now, and the younger is at the docks running some errands. But enough about them, introduce me to your new wife.”

Daenerys stepped forwards and smiled.

“This is Daenerys, she was Lord Stark’s ward.”

Betha looked her up and down, “You keep calling her that, but everyone knows who’s blood she is.”

There was an edge to Jorah’s voice, “She was raised by the Starks, and now she has joined House Mormont.”

Daenerys squeezed his hand, “I understand your suspicions, but I assure you, I intend no harm to anyone. I’d like to have a peaceful life as much as anyone else.”

Lyra finished up what she was doing and gestured them away, “I need to pick up my sword from the blacksmith, come with me.”

Daenerys pulled Jorah away to go after Lyra. She turned and saw Dacey having an argument with Betha.

Lyra reassured her, “Betha’s two sons died at the trident. I suppose she is still bitter about it. There might be others, but in time they’ll warm up to you.”

Jorah grumbled, “They should know better- had she insulted the lady wife of any other lord, Betha would have been hanged.”

Daenerys stopped and grabbed his arm tightly, “I understand you are the lord and can do as you will, but I am begging you, do not hurt anyone for my sake. I can take the words, there is no need for bloodshed.”

Jorah looked disappointed, “She insulted you to your face and here you are asking for mercy. You needn’t worry, Daenerys, I don’t kill my people over some words. I don’t appreciate this insolence but I will not kill because of it. Betha is old enough to be my grandmother, she knew my father when he was a boy, she is loyal to our family. But more than that, all the people on this island are mine to protect and provide for. I live to serve them, and I will do it even if they hate me.”

Daenerys felt embarrassed about her outburst on him, “Forgive me, I didn’t-”

He cut her off, “Let it be, you do not know me well enough yet. But you will.” He smiled softly for her.

Lyra shifted from one foot to another. Jorah rarely smiled so sweetly for anyone. She reassured Daenerys, “Give it some time, they’ll grow to love you.” Lyra did not miss the brief longing look that Daenerys gave to Jorah.

At the blacksmith’s forge, while Lyra started checking her sword, Jorah placed an order with the blacksmith.

“You know how it’s made Lothar; your new lady needs a chain and clasp for her cloak. The same as mine.”

“Aye m’lord. I’ll have it made and sent to the Keep as soon as it's ready.”

“I want it done before the festival.”

Lothar bowed, “As you wish it m’lord.” Then he turned to Daenerys and after a brief pause bowed to her ss well, “Wishing you well, m’lady.”

They walked around the village some more, Lyra telling her some random things about the people they passed or how Ser Jorah had fallen flat on his face outside one tavern, or how Lyanna had gotten into a fight with a boy bigger than her and beaten him in the square itself only to then be yelled at by her mother.

Later they had some cinnamon buns with tea before heading back to the Keep in the evening. All throughout Ser Jorah had alternated between talking to the villagers, and introducing Daenerys to life here. When two children came up to her and asked if she had silver hair because she was a hundred years old, he had laughed so loudly several passers-by stopped to look at him, while Lyra had sent the kids on their merry way.

For the next month, they fell into a sort of routine. Every night Jorah would lie next to her, and she would resist the urge to stare at him endlessly. He was handsome, and strong, and when he was near her, she felt safe. One night she decided to be bold, and placed her hand on his chest. She felt it rise and fall slowly with his breaths, and after a while, still asleep, he had placed his own hand on top of hers.  

It has become part of their routine, she would place a hand on his, and he would hold it. Sometimes she would press close to him at night pretending to be cold, and would wrap her in the furs and let her stay without saying a word.

In the mornings they would attend breakfast with the rest of the family, and after he would go do whatever was required of him as Lord, and she would follow around Maege learning how to be the Islands’ Lady. Sometimes they would talk about other things.

One particular day she let her curiosity get the best of her and asked about the girl’s father, Maege’s unknown husband.

“You’re the first person who’s ever asked me that. No one else has the courage for it.”

Daenerys was not surprised at that, one man in the village had joked that this island had no wrathful Gods, it had Maege Mormont. Even Ser Jorah had admitted that if Maege issued a command, he would obey without question.

“As for the answer, aye, I’ve got a husband. I married him alone in secret under a Weirwood in the middle of the night. We’ve never lived together because he had duties as did I, and we made the choice that I would raise the girls here, as Mormonts. Is there anything else you want to know?”

“How did you know that you love him?”Daenerys had been wondering about what love for a man might feel like since Lady Stark had mentioned that she may grow to love her lord husband.

“That’s a good question. Love is everywhere, it’s in everything. It’s being as happy to see the person everyday as you would be if you saw them once a year. It’s about wanting the best for them, for them to be happy, even if you are too far away to share their joy. It’s about not leaving them in their grief, it’s about being willing to give yourself grief for them. But above all, it takes courage- love is not for the cowardly, it’s something precious that needs to be tended to all the time so it doesn’t fade away.”

She had thanked Maege for her wisdom and gone about the rest of the day slowly realising that she was falling for her lord husband.

After lunch, he would take his cousins and spar, and she would watch while doing some minor work like sewing or listening to some tale from the island. Maege had started encouraging them to go for walks, saying they ought to do it before the winter storms lock them all inside. Then they would end up going for a walk nearby, sometimes one of the others would join them, sometimes it would be just them. Lyra’s words had proven true; the island's inhabitants had started to warm up to her. It was always peaceful, and Daenerys enjoyed the freedom given to her.

And after dinner, those were her favourite times. Ser Jorah would retreat to his study, to deal with the ledgers or accounts, and Daenerys would join him with a book. And they would talk. He told her stories of all his adventures; she would reply with all the wonderful tales from the books Maester Aemon had gifted her. Sometimes she would ask about something about the island, other times he would ask for her opinion on how something should be done. He encouraged her to challenge him, to show her fire.

Her only disappointment was that no matter how much she longed for it, he would never get up and throw her over the table and take her then and there. But he did look at her, all the time, with a slight smile, his beautiful blue eyes shining, sometimes laughing at whatever poor joke she had tried to tell.

Her and Jory had plans to explore the woods today, and true to her words, she had been woken up by her good sister at the crack of dawn. Jorah had grumbled at them both for disturbing him so early then rolled over and gone back to sleep.

Before leaving the room, Daenerys had been unable to resist and had laid a small kiss on his cheek. The lord had not even twitched.

It was after showing her almost all the wildflowers that grew on the island that Jory started talking about her cousin. “You know, everyone stopped and started laughing at him that day in the village, because he hasn’t laughed like that in ages.”

Daenerys was confused by that, as far as she could tell, Lord Mormont was almost always amused by something to the other. At least that’s what she had assumed since he always had a small smile when looking at her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean he’s been miserable since that happened,” she pointed to three little stones jutting out of the ground.

Daenerys slowly knelt before those stones. Are these graves?

“What happened?”

Jory laid some flowers she had picked before, “He was married when he was younger. Elena Glover, she was buried in the crypts of our family, but he buried their three children, none of whom lived long enough to be named, here on this hill. I’m named for them both, Jor-elle. She died the same year I was born, so I never met her, but I’ve heard enough to know that Jorah hasn’t been who he was since her death. He blames himself, he put her with child, and now all of them are in the ground.”  

So that’s why he’s refusing children with me, that’s why he hasn’t been interested in having a proper marriage.

But there was still something she didn’t understand. “Maege’s insistence on having us in the same room, Aly asking if I ever wanted children of my own, Lyra making sure Ser Jorah did not turn his attention away from me for long, you bringing me here, it’s not a coincidence, is it?”

Jory shrugged, “Ask Dacey- she told me to bring you here.”

It had taken her another week to find the courage, and the opportunity, to confront Dacey.

Dacey continued brushing down her horse, “Calm down, there’s no trick’s going on here. Your meeting with Aly was a coincidence, Lyra keeps an eye on you and Jorah because he has a tendency to get distracted whenever he goes down to the village. As for the graves, well, he was never going to tell you, so I figured I’ll have Jory show you when she takes you out exploring. Since you’re so obviously mooning after him, you ought to know about him. We do try not to disturb you two when you are alone with him, but that is the extent of it. Anything else?”

Daenerys was again embarrassed, and of all the people, it was Dacey she had embarrassed herself in front of the most times.

“Just one question- do you think he will love me?”

Dacey scoffed, “He hasn’t taken his eyes off you since he first met you, I’d say he’s halfway there already.”

He has?

“Daenerys, there you are, I’ve been looking for you, Lothar dropped off the clasp for your cloak.”

The clasp was indeed beautiful, it was the same design as Jorah’s, a bear’s head with claws on each end holding the chain. She was to use it to fasten her cloak whenever she needed.

“Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful, Jorah.” She bit her lip, “There was something I wanted to ask you.” They were alone in their bed chambers. A week from today, the Harvest Festival was set to begin. They were to go down hand in hand, playing the part of the happily married couple, but she wanted it to be real.

“You promised that you would not force me to consummate our marriage, well, it has been long enough.” She raised her chin and said with as much dignity she could muster, “I would give myself to you willingly. I am in love with you, and I want you to love me.”

“No.”

Daenerys thought she could feel the heart in her chest stop beating.

“No?”

Lord Mormont did not meet her eyes, “I’m sorry, but I cannot.”

“Why?”

“I… I just… I cannot love you the way you want.”

She felt tears prick her eyes. “Fine then.” She brushed past him, and heard him follow after a moment.

“Where are you going?”

“To ride my horse, I am the Lady of this house and I may come and go as I please.” This was the first time she had asserted herself like that, it felt exhilarating.

She rode her silver mare out onto a beaten path, Ser Jorah following closely on his stallion.

“Will you stop and listen to me?”

“No.”

Are you now regretting telling me to use my fire?

She would have turned and asked him, but her mare slipped on a loose rock. She slipped near the stream and they both fell in. It would have been funny in its ridiculousness, only it wasn’t, because Daenerys did not know how to swim.

The water was cold, so numbingly cold, the currents dragged her under, the more she thrashed trying to grab something, anything to pull her above the water, the more her body refused to obey. Water had gone into her, it filled her chest and it burned, she couldn’t see, or hear, and the last thing she thought was that Ser Jorah would not mourn her death, because he could not love her.

It had been hours since he had pulled Daenerys out of the stream, and she still lay motionless in bed, covered in warm furs, her breath rattling in her chest from all the water that went in.

She could die, and it would be his doing.

He had refused to love her, because he was scared that if he did, he would lose her, and now she might die anyway.

When she had fallen in, he had realised that despite his best attempts, he had begun to love her. In all the time she spent with him, there was always something happening, sometimes she would touch his arm, other times she would outright hold his hand, while sleeping almost every night she had found some excuse to hold onto him in some way, and he had allowed it telling himself that it was an indulgence, but the truth was he had enjoyed it. He enjoyed her company, and he couldn’t imagine what his life would look like without her when two months ago he hadn’t spared a thought to her existence.

He stood up and took off his boots, crawling into bed next to her. He kissed her on the forehead, and promised, "If you wake up tomorrow, I will be a husband to you.” He held her close, “I love you, please don’t leave so soon."  

Daenerys woke up a day later, coughing harshly, feeling like someone had taken a hammer to her head. Jorah immediately rushed to her side and helped her sit up and rubbed her back while she coughed.

He sent someone to fetch the Maester then reassured her, “You’ll be fine, I promise, I’ll take care of you.”

Daenerys shivered in his arms, “I thought you didn’t love me.”

Jorah shook his head, “That’s a lie. I lied to you and to myself, I won’t lie ever again.”

This man, sometimes he’ll be cold and callous, then the next he will be as sweet as honey, so annoying.  “Why? Why did you lie? Why love me now when you refused earlier?”

“I lied because it’s easier than admitting the truth. My father told me when I was young, that the things we love destroy us. I loved someone he chose for me long ago, and all I got for it was grief. I was too afraid that it would happen again, but when I saw you fall into that half-frozen stream, I realised I was fighting a losing battle.”

Daenerys swallowed her tears, “I’m not a fool.”

“I never said-”

“Let me finish!”, she snapped at him, she was tired of this, he had promised her freedom, to treat her equal to everyone else, he might be the lord but she was his lady wife and he would listen to her whether he liked it or not.  

“I know how dangerous life is, how dangerous it’s always been. I understand why you made an example out of Ser Alliser on the Wall, and I know why Lord Bolton approached me and I know why Lord Stark kept me hidden away as much as he could. I know I was a hostage, and I know that according to King Robert, you’re my new jailor instead of husband. But despite all of this, I was still happy in Winterfell, and I am happy here as well. I was happy because I had love. Love is hope, it is strength, it took me years to understand, but I know that its love that keeps us alive. Theon and Jon ready to kill for me, Robb reminding me to visit, Rickon clinging to my legs, Arya and Sansa wishing I could come with them, Bran coming to me for advice, there is love in all that. And you are the biggest fool I have ever met if you need me to list out all the ways Maege and your cousins love you.”

He shook his head, “I know, I know they love me, I just-” and he choked on a sob.

Daenerys sniffed, holding back her own tears, “No, you do not get to cry about it, not yet, I have plenty of complaints from you. We met at a harvest feast two years ago and you threw a dagger at my head!”

He barked a quick laugh, “Aye, I remember; I was drunk, and the next morning I cursed myself for it, Ned would’ve taken my head if I had hurt you.”

“You… you… argh! I spent two years dreaming about you, and you’re-” she gestured vaguely to all of his, “-like this!”

Jorah looked stunned, “Dreaming about me all because of that one encounter?” then he smiled cheekily, “Well then tell me, do I match up to your dreams?”

Daenerys was tired, far too tired, she laid back down and pulled him with her. “You’re more interesting, but you are also more annoying.”

Jorah laughed and held her close, wrapping himself around her, snuggling under the furs with her.

She cupped his face, “Jorah, kiss me.”

“No.”

How dare he…

Daenerys opened her mouth to protest but he covered it with his hand.

“You have a fever thank to your disastrous swim, I will kiss you and do much more, when you are better. I promise.” He removed his hand.

“I’ll have Dacey gut you like a fish if you don’t.”

Jorah just laughed, “I love that fire, never let anyone douse it.”

It was bonfire night and Jorah sipped at his cup of wine. Winter had crept up slowly upon them, the first storms came well over a year after the Harvest Festival.

All the left-over lumber that couldn’t be used, broken toys and ripped clothes that could not be reused, and who knew how many piles of dead leaves, were all gathered in the village square ready to be burnt. And while the fire burned, they would sing and eat and drink and dance, they would celebrate being together.

For years, he had been lighting the fire alone, but this year, he took his lady’s hand and they lit the fire together while the islanders cheered.

Jorah continued to hold onto Daenerys long after they had stepped away.

“You hold her like she’s made out of glass.” Lyanna scowled at her cousin.

Daenerys laughed, “I was saying the same yesterday, I’m afraid our judgement has no effect on him, Lyanna. He is going to continue to lose hair from worrying until I hand him a healthy child.”

“So, we have to watch him behave like a fool for how long?”

“I can hear you.” Jorah grumbled, only to be ignored.

“Just two more months darling, then you shall have another niece or perhaps even a nephew to play with.”

Lyanna nodded and walked away to Dacey.

Jorah rested his head on her shoulder, his arms encircling her growing belly, “You know why I worry,” he mumbled into her shoulder.

“I do know my love, and I understand your fear, but that doesn’t mean I cannot mock the ridiculous way you behave at times because of it.” Daenerys turned her head and laid a quick kiss on his lips. “It’s your own fault you know, from the first day you insisted I spend time with all the she-bears, I was bound to pick up some habits from your cousins.”

Daenerys was born the blood of the dragon, only to be raised by wolves and then marry into a family of bears. She had the sharpest teeth and claws of them all, and now they were starting to show. In her last letter to Castle Black, she had told Jeor Mormont to not even consider missing his grandchild’s birth. In turn, he had promised to be there. For the first time since leaving, Jeor Mormont would return to Bear Island all because Daenerys wrote him a scathing letter.  

“I love you, Lady Mormont,” he kissed her temple.

“And I love you Lord Mormont,” and she had him bend down so she could kiss his lips while the bonfire burned behind them.