"Not meat. Other things." Could food even grow in snow? It was so cold, it seems impossible imagining anything surviving, save the trees on the ground.
She slips inside, smiling up at him as she passes, dragging her palm along his stomach. Inside is dark, but it's dark outside save the fires burning along the streets. Inside, the first holds more of an intimacy, and it's far quieter than expected. Likely because there are so few in here.
Once settled, she considers the space around them before twisting to face him, tucking a leg beneath her bottom. It allows her to lean closer to him, to keep the conversation private.
"Mn, yes. A khaleesi is expected to consume the hrazef zhor whilst the Dosh Khaleen interpret the omens." The table is tacky beneath her palm, so she rests her palms on her lap. "If she's not sickened by it, and eats it all, the Dothraki believe the unborn child will be strong."
"No, there wasn't anything else, not beyond the Wall." They might have vegetables at Castle Black, but life didn't grow once you passed into the wilds of the far north. That was the realm of the dead. "There wasn't wood to burn or anything else. We had to dig frozen shit out of the snow and use that for our fires."
He leaned closer to her, letting his voice drop into a murmur. The bartender noticed them, but was still in the middle of helping someone else. They had a few more minutes of privacy before someone would interrupt. His hand covered her, his thumb caressing her fingers, savoring the softness of her skin. It wasn't rough or harsh from cold climates, but speaking of warmth and comfort.
His smile spread, trying to imagine her devouring the heart as other women chanted around her. There was always a power and strength that exuded from Daenerys, but the image seemed like fire made flesh. No other queen would be willing to go that far, accepting her people's ways and embracing their beliefs. It's what made her far better than Cersei or any other ruler he had seen.
"What did the omens say about your child?" It's asked hesitantly, uncertain whether the memory would be painful for her or not. "Is that when you won their respect?"
That's disgusting. Her look all but announces that. Didn't matter if she'd seen the things she saw, innards and blood and fecal matter splashing onto a battlefield the Dothraki and Unsullied claimed as theirs. Burning it?
"And I thought the desert was unbearable..."
Glancing down at their hands, she turns hers from beneath his, to link their fingers together.
"I never did with some of them." Some of the levity fades from her eyes; she looks away, toward the bar. "He was to be the Stallion Who Mounts the World."
He laughs at her look. Even traveling with a Dothraki horde hadn't prepared her for the harsh realities beyond the Wall. "The smell is worse than you think. The air is cold and dry, so you smell everything. It gets into the food as well."
It was almost like comparing war stories. The two of them sharing their rough experiences, alone and surrounded by a wilderness most other Westerosi hadn't or couldn't imagine.
But quickly his smile fell, realizing that he was stepping into painful territory. "We could speak of something else, if you like?" Something to bring back her smiles and amusement.
"And you willingly traveled beyond the Wall to relive that." She clicks her tongue at him, clearly teasing. "The way you speak of it, I'm beginning to suspect you miss it."
It is a bit like sharing horror stories. Speak of stallion hearts and using shit for a flame's fuel. It almost feels normal, like the evenings in Dragonstone, where conversations with wine by the hearth were to be had amidst all their people. The reminder hurts far worse than thinking of her stillborn. Rhaego has been gone for years, but Missandei and the others? It hadn't been that long since she'd seen them last.
"There's not much else to say about him." Save his appearance and the way he died. She looks at Jon now, lifting her brows. "I'd thought saddle sores were the worst I'd face, but I think the sickness and retching while I was pregnant was far worse."
"I had two queens to convince." But only one that he could trust to rescue him when everything became dire. "It wasn't the best conditions, but there was a sort of freedom there that doesn't exist anywhere else." But no, he really didn't miss it all that much. The cold, the rancid food, the scrambling for his life. A part of him preferred this quiet existence, even with its troubles.
He had expected pain that mirrored the loss of Viserion in her eyes, but there was only a sad acceptance. He could remember how she had warned him that she was unable to have children at his bedside, in what seemed to be an attempt to offer him an out. It hadn't been enough to shake his faith in her or his desire to be with her.
He tried to picture her pregnant and on horseback, but the only image he could conjure was of her in Winterfell, wrapped in furs and carrying his child. "While on horseback?" He teased her, squeezing her hand.
"And you took one of her knights." She misses her old bear, who had seen so very much with her. She misses him like one must miss a limb. Separated for so long, reunited briefly, and now he sleeps... "Thank you for returning him in one piece. Can't say the same for you, though."
He'd survived his own trials north of the Wall, and the memory of it makes her quick to look on to other topics of conversation.
"You invite trouble with those sorts of questions, my lord." Her lips quirk. "In the mornings, mostly. Sometimes when the khalasar came to a halt and the smell of meats roasting drifted on the breeze. I couldn't lose my stomach before all my people, that's weak, you know."
He still wasn't certain what to feel about Jorah. He was a man that Daenerys trusted and held very dear to her heart. But it was hard to forget the things he had heard from the former Lord Commander and his father, Lord Stark However, they had fought together and he knew better than most, you find your true friends on the battlefield.
"You don't need to thank me. He is a good warrior. I think he would have returned without my help. He seems to do that." That was the impression he was given, at least.
"The Dothraki remind me of the Free Folk, their way of life and the way they view weakness. We had to climb the Wall once with nothing but pick axes and rope."
The lines around her eyes soften just a bit at the mention of Jorah's stubbornness. It certainly was a point of contention when she'd banished him, but it's clear he's devoted to her. That loyalty, that her old bear still fights for her and in her name, well... there were very few like him.
"I know," she softly says, "He'd been with me since the start. It's entirely likely he'd have crawled back to the wall, if need be."
And because she's stood atop the Wall, Jon now gets a look from her. "You what?"
He nodded, having seen how deep the relationship was between them and well aware of how much she relied on Jorah. There was so much about the man that confused Jon. Not only his past as a slaver, but his affection and dedication to Daenerys. Though it was his certainty and mention of children that had left Jon stupefied. There was more to the statement than a simple passing of the torch, but beyond the Wall, Jon wasn't sure what that meaning was.
"He isn't what I expected." Which was probably the only thing he could take from all of this. The stories he heard had been told by a hurt father and a warden that held honor and loyalty firmly. But life wasn't skewed so rigidly and Jorah wasn't evil, he was simply flawed.
"It was when I was living with the Freefolk. They were trying to go south and the only way they could was by climbing the Wall. We did it together."
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She slips inside, smiling up at him as she passes, dragging her palm along his stomach. Inside is dark, but it's dark outside save the fires burning along the streets. Inside, the first holds more of an intimacy, and it's far quieter than expected. Likely because there are so few in here.
Once settled, she considers the space around them before twisting to face him, tucking a leg beneath her bottom. It allows her to lean closer to him, to keep the conversation private.
"Mn, yes. A khaleesi is expected to consume the hrazef zhor whilst the Dosh Khaleen interpret the omens." The table is tacky beneath her palm, so she rests her palms on her lap. "If she's not sickened by it, and eats it all, the Dothraki believe the unborn child will be strong."
no subject
He leaned closer to her, letting his voice drop into a murmur. The bartender noticed them, but was still in the middle of helping someone else. They had a few more minutes of privacy before someone would interrupt. His hand covered her, his thumb caressing her fingers, savoring the softness of her skin. It wasn't rough or harsh from cold climates, but speaking of warmth and comfort.
His smile spread, trying to imagine her devouring the heart as other women chanted around her. There was always a power and strength that exuded from Daenerys, but the image seemed like fire made flesh. No other queen would be willing to go that far, accepting her people's ways and embracing their beliefs. It's what made her far better than Cersei or any other ruler he had seen.
"What did the omens say about your child?" It's asked hesitantly, uncertain whether the memory would be painful for her or not. "Is that when you won their respect?"
no subject
"And I thought the desert was unbearable..."
Glancing down at their hands, she turns hers from beneath his, to link their fingers together.
"I never did with some of them." Some of the levity fades from her eyes; she looks away, toward the bar. "He was to be the Stallion Who Mounts the World."
no subject
It was almost like comparing war stories. The two of them sharing their rough experiences, alone and surrounded by a wilderness most other Westerosi hadn't or couldn't imagine.
But quickly his smile fell, realizing that he was stepping into painful territory. "We could speak of something else, if you like?" Something to bring back her smiles and amusement.
no subject
It is a bit like sharing horror stories. Speak of stallion hearts and using shit for a flame's fuel. It almost feels normal, like the evenings in Dragonstone, where conversations with wine by the hearth were to be had amidst all their people. The reminder hurts far worse than thinking of her stillborn. Rhaego has been gone for years, but Missandei and the others? It hadn't been that long since she'd seen them last.
"There's not much else to say about him." Save his appearance and the way he died. She looks at Jon now, lifting her brows. "I'd thought saddle sores were the worst I'd face, but I think the sickness and retching while I was pregnant was far worse."
no subject
He had expected pain that mirrored the loss of Viserion in her eyes, but there was only a sad acceptance. He could remember how she had warned him that she was unable to have children at his bedside, in what seemed to be an attempt to offer him an out. It hadn't been enough to shake his faith in her or his desire to be with her.
He tried to picture her pregnant and on horseback, but the only image he could conjure was of her in Winterfell, wrapped in furs and carrying his child. "While on horseback?" He teased her, squeezing her hand.
no subject
He'd survived his own trials north of the Wall, and the memory of it makes her quick to look on to other topics of conversation.
"You invite trouble with those sorts of questions, my lord." Her lips quirk. "In the mornings, mostly. Sometimes when the khalasar came to a halt and the smell of meats roasting drifted on the breeze. I couldn't lose my stomach before all my people, that's weak, you know."
no subject
"You don't need to thank me. He is a good warrior. I think he would have returned without my help. He seems to do that." That was the impression he was given, at least.
"The Dothraki remind me of the Free Folk, their way of life and the way they view weakness. We had to climb the Wall once with nothing but pick axes and rope."
no subject
"I know," she softly says, "He'd been with me since the start. It's entirely likely he'd have crawled back to the wall, if need be."
And because she's stood atop the Wall, Jon now gets a look from her. "You what?"
no subject
"He isn't what I expected." Which was probably the only thing he could take from all of this. The stories he heard had been told by a hurt father and a warden that held honor and loyalty firmly. But life wasn't skewed so rigidly and Jorah wasn't evil, he was simply flawed.
"It was when I was living with the Freefolk. They were trying to go south and the only way they could was by climbing the Wall. We did it together."