Chapter Text
Jorah Mormont entered the familiar surroundings, surprised to see it much busier than usual.
He’d been coming here for a number of weeks and had learned quickly that the sooner you arrived, the better seat you would get. He would be here for most of the day and it was important to him that he was able to get a good view of the beautiful gardens outside.
It was winter, but the deciduous birch and cherry trees still looked beautiful at this time of year. The groundskeeper could often be seen tending to the lawns, even in the pouring rain, determined to keep the grounds looking their best.
Perhaps everyone else had started to catch on to his plan. He grumbled to himself when he realised his favourite seat had gone. In his place sat a beautiful woman with the most striking eyes he had ever seen. Her hair was long and a luxurious shade of blonde. He found himself getting unaccountably nervous when she glanced up at him.
At a loss for what else to say, he gestured to the seat next to her.
“May I?”
She looked him up and down before a smile spread across her face.
“On one condition.”
“Oh?”
“You tell me your name.”
He let out a nervous breath, kicking himself for acting like a lovestruck teenager around this beautiful young woman.
He held out a hand to her, shaking it gently. “I’m Jorah.”
“Daenerys,” she responded and nodded at the seat next to her.
“That’s an unusual name for these parts,” Jorah responded, adjusting the legs of his trousers as he sat down.
“I’ve only been living here a year or two. I had to leave London pretty quickly…”
Her voice trailed off and he could see the pain in her eyes. He had only just met her and already he wanted to take her in his arms to reassure her and tell her that everything would be alright.
“Are you local?” She asked, changing the subject quickly.
“Aye,” he grinned. “What gave it away?”
Jorah had always hated his Edinburgh accent and had been teased mercilessly for it over the years. His youth had seen him travel to some far flung places across the world, but his time down in London had been when he’d had to put up with the worst of the ‘bantering’ about how he spoke. Lynesse and her so-called friends would often mimic some of the things he said when they thought he wasn’t listening or couldn’t hear them.
“I’ve always loved the accent,” she said as she looked longingly out of the window. “Edinburgh is a beautiful city.”
Maybe he didn’t really appreciate what was on his own doorstep, but he’d been desperate to leave the city after falling out with his father several years ago. After being made a widower by his first wife, his second had lured him to London with the promise of a fairytale life for the both of them. She had left him for another man, taking his honour and his heart with her as she fled.
With nothing to keep him in London, he’d returned to his home city with his tail between his legs, keeping out of sight of his father lest their paths should ever cross. He couldn’t bear to come face to face with him and see the look of disappointment that he knew he would find there.
He shook the painful memories from his mind as he turned to look at her. “I’ve not seen you here before.”
“This is my first time, actually,” she replied. He had the feeling that she was embarrassed to admit it.
A heavyset woman approached them, wearing an apron and holding a small note pad in her hand. “Jorah, how are you?”
He gave her a warm smile. “I’m good thanks, and you, Mary?”
She let out a small chuckle. “Oh, I can’t complain. I’m all the better for seeing your handsome face here again today.”
He felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment, knowing that Mary was deliberately flirting with him in front of his new companion.
“And who do we have here?” Mary asked, turning her attention to the young woman sitting next to him.
“Daenerys.”
Mary took the proffered hand, smiling at Jorah once more. “And what can I get both of you?”
Jorah looked at her. “Ladies first,” he offered.
“Coffee would be great,” she replied.
“Same for me please, Mary.”
“Coming right up,” Mary made a note on the pad, calling over her shoulder as she left, “You’re sitting in his seat, darling.”
He couldn’t help smiling when Daenerys held a hand to her chest, her cheeks flushing a deep red. “Oh my gosh, I am so sorry,” she said as she made to stand.
He held up a hand to stop her. “You’ll do nothing of the sort,” he said, his tone softly chiding her. “I’m more than happy here.”
She sat back down again. “I didn’t realise people were so territorial about things around here.” She shook her head.
“I’m sorry about Mary,” he said by way of apology. “Everyone tends to know everyone around here and they think it’s ok to get in each other’s business. It’s a local thing.”
“I guess I’ll just have to get used to it,” Daenerys replied. “I’m really sorry about taking your seat though.”
“It’s not my seat,” he told her. “On any other day someone else might be sitting there. It’s not like I own it or anything.”
“But you could,” Mary said as she brought their drinks over. “A man of your means should make the most of the advantages he’s been given.”
“Mary,” he growled lowly at her, although there was no menace behind it, only a sense of quiet resignation.
Daenerys stared at him and then at Mary with a bemused expression.
“Don’t tell me you don’t know who you’re sitting next to, hen?”
He could feel Daenerys’ eyes on him once more, but this time she really looked at him. She shook her head.
“Should I?’
“Have you ever read A Song of Ice and Fire?” Mary asked.
Jorah tried to sink further into his chair as he heard Daenerys gasp.
“You’re Jorah Mormont?” She asked, “The Jorah Mormont?”
He wanted to ground to open up and swallow him whole. He gave an imperceptible nod of the head, his eyes firmly on his feet.
He heard Mary let out a satisfied chuckle as she walked away.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Daenerys asked him.
He resisted the urge to look at her. “It’s not a big deal,” he shrugged, picking at some lint on his navy blue shirt.
“Not a big deal? Your books have been one of the only things that have gotten me through the past few years. You’re literally a lifesaver.”
“They’re just books,” he mumbled, his mind already going back to those dark days with Lynesse when writing had been his only source of escape from her cruel whims.
“You must be pretty famous around here.”
He fidgeted awkwardly. He was known for many things in these parts and few of them good. It had been one of the reasons why he’d run off to travel the world. No matter how far he roamed though, he’d never been able to outrun his past.
“I’m nothing special. Just a man, I’m afraid.” A shamed and dishonoured one at that.
He wasn’t particularly keen on the direction that their conversation was heading in.
“What do you do?”
He risked a quick glance at her and hoped she wouldn’t push him on the subject of himself any further.
“I’m a graphic designer. Freelance.” She took a sip of her coffee, wincing slightly at the bitter taste of the hot beverage. “Guess we’re both the creative type, huh?”
“Indeed.” He nodded, watching as the skies turned grey and suddenly opened, lashing the picturesque gardens with much-needed rain. He hoped it wasn’t a precursor to the day.
His thoughts had all too often turned to the melancholy since his return from London. He’d been a sucker for a pretty face and what he’d hoped was his dream coming true had quickly turned into a horrific nightmare with Lynesse.
It was pointless getting to know the woman sitting next to him. There was no way he wanted to risk his heart again. Lynesse had ripped it out and then stamped on it with her stilletos just for good measure. He’d picked up as many of the fractured pieces as he could, returning to Edinburgh to place them back together. No matter how hard he tried to tell himself otherwise, his heart would never fully heal from the damage Lynesse had caused him.
He should just sit quietly and watch the day go by, letting his mind wander as people milled about around him. There was solace in silence.
The young woman sitting next to him was only being polite, he told himself. She wasn’t really interested in him. It had been nothing more than coincidence that he’d found himself sitting next to her.
He told himself all of this and more and yet none of it seemed to matter. He was drawn to her like a magnet, no matter how much he tried to repel himself. There was something about her that coaxed his reluctant heart into wanting to know more about her.
His heart had been a poor judge of character in the past. In his mind, he knew that he would probably never see her again after today. Yet his head had yet to win a battle against his heart and he knew today would be no different. If today was all they had, he would make the most of it. He knew all too well how limited time could be.
“What are you here for?” He asked her as Mary returned with a tray, he winced as the needle entered his arm. He had always been unable to watch it go in.
“Breast cancer,” she said quietly, watching Mary hook a bag on the pole above his head. “You?”
“Testicular,” he replied, feeling the odd sensation of the chemotherapy medication entering his blood stream.
“Lucky us, huh?” She laughed humourlessly.
“I don’t know. I could think of worse people to be spending the day with.”
He suddenly felt he’d said too much. He’d been too forward with her. His heart sank.
She gave him a smile that lit up her whole face. It was the first time he’d seen her eyes look alive.
“Me too,” she agreed.