The desire… It burned in his chest like wildfire. No. It was even more… like the fire of a thousand suns.
His hand moved slowly to caress her cheek, almost shyly.
“I love you”
The words were uttered like a confession of a crime, filling the air of the strange room.
Time seemed to stop as they remained silent, and it felt like eternity to Jorah.
The faceless woman finally moved his lips, opening her perfect mouth, the only part of her face Jorah was capable to distinguish, an she let out a sigh, nuzzling into the man’s big hand. How tiny, how fragile she looked!
“And I love you too, my brave bear…” she said, stepping closer to the Mormont and brushing her lips against his.
Jorah’s heart raced, and he felt himself die of happiness. His fingers tangled in her long hair and his mouth kissed her mouth, the corner of her lips, her cheek, the curve of her neck.
Desire. Fire burning. In his chest, this time it was like if a bomb exploded. She was his… and he was hers.
But the spell broke. Jorah felt himself falling down into a dream from which he was sure he would not be able to wake up.
And the last thing he saw it was her, with a sweet motherly smile in her perfect lips: her white hair, and her pale young face.
And then, the darkness.
Jorah woke up covered in cold sweat. He sat up on his bed, his breath accelerated.
He leaded his hand to his lips, slowly touching them with his fingertips.
A dream… It had all been a dream. But something was still burning inside him, deep in his chest.
Had it been… the young Ms. Targaryen the one he had been willing to touch, to kiss, to have?
Jorah burried his face in his hands. No, no, no… Lynesse. It had always been her and she would ever be… He was not capable of loving another woman… Or was he?
Lynesse, Lynesse, Lynesse… Her name had been like a balm all this time, but now it was just like a woodden board floating in the middle of a sea, the only thing that kept him close to his past.
Lynesse… Jorah took a deep breath before he layed down, back in his bed.
But when he closed his eyes, it was the young Ms. Targaryen’s face what he could see in his dreams, and were her lips what made his heart race again like once it did.
Fire and desire. Joy and disgrace.
Jorah let himself fall on a bench in that crowded street with a sigh. The weather was not as hot as it had been the past days and the clouds sailed across the sky. He let his eyes get lost into the sea of people that walked down the street before closing them…
It had been done. Now, he was officially a bodyguard for the Targaryens… And it was a sudden change. An important change. That meant money, of course, but it also meant being loyal. He had, in fact sold his loyalty to that people… Not that he could complain about it. Not that he wanted to complain about it. It was good for him. He shall get used to that…
But he still didn’t know that girl. The girl he had to protect. Daenerys Targaryen, Viserys’ younger sister. He had heard about her, of course, but who hadn’t? He had seen her on the newspapers. She was young, just as the Targaryen boy had said. And beautiful, with that beauty the Targaryens where famous for having… But it was the beauty that only youth could bring.
Jorah opened his eyes slowly. The street was the same as it had been before he closed his eyes, a confusing mess of legs and arms. People walking in different directions…
And Jorah, that was sitting still in the bench, couldn’t help wondering what would be his.