Chapter Text
“I can't believe I let you talk me into this.”
“Oh, come off it, you grumpy bear,” Tyrion replied, to which Jorah glowered, causing the other man to hold up a hand in mock apology. “It's for charity. Even you can't say ‘no’ to a children's hospital.”
His coworker had a point. Despite his quiet, sometimes gruff demeanor, Jorah had a soft heart beating in that broad chest of his. Tyrion knew it and was exploiting it. But to what end, Jorah wasn't sure. There had to be an ulterior motive; there always was.
“Besides, Daenerys is out there bidding.”
There it is. “What?!”
Tyrion chuckled into his wine glass, looking quite pleased with himself. Jorah's palm itched; if there weren't people around, I'd knock that smirk off his face.
“And she doesn't seem very interested in the offerings so far,” Tyrion shrugged.
This can't be happening. Daenerys Targaryen, the governor and the most beautiful woman in the city, well, the world in Jorah’s eyes, was sitting out there, seemingly unimpressed with the lineup for tonight's auction. There was no way that was possible. It was a veritable who’s who of the capital, the most eligible of bachelors: handsome, rich, well-connected. And she wasn't interested in any of them?
“What are you playing at, Lannister?”
If Tyrion had rolled his eyes any harder, his retinas would have detached. “Peek through the curtain and see for yourself.”
Jorah did and his jaw nearly dropped. She was stunning in her garnet mermaid-tale gown, her long tresses gathered up in an elaborate hairdo, showing off her elegant shoulders and glowing porcelain skin. But it was the expression on her face that gave him pause. She truly was quite disinterested, her chin resting on her palm, the fingertips of her other hand bending the deckled edge of the evening's programme back and forth absentmindedly. She looked for the lack of a better word...bored.
Hope leapt in his heart, but was quickly tamped down. There was no way she'd bid on him, he was divorced and her coworker to boot. Tyrion needled Jorah often about how he would gaze longingly in Daenerys' direction when she wasn’t looking. You see, Jorah had been harboring a crush for the last two years. ‘I do not have a crush’; he'd bark at Tyrion every time the topic was brought up. And that was the truth. Jorah was actually head over heels in love.
“Now,” Tyrion interrupted Jorah’s musings, “let me look at you.” He turned to find the diminutive man giving him a once over, “I must pat myself on the back later, you actually look, dare I say it, handsome.”
Jorah blinked, “Do my ears deceive me or was that a compliment?”
Tyrion didn’t answer; rather, he started shoo-ing Jorah toward the entrance to the stage, “If you bring in less than my brother, I'll never hear the end of it.”
Raucous applause signaled the end of the last round of bidding, Bronn striding past Jorah grinning, his arm slung across a giggling blonde's shoulders. It was also Jorah's cue to step out on the stage. He had been in a warzone, been shot, but he would gladly face all of that again just to get out of this.
It was too late to back out now as the emcee began his introduction, “Our last item up for bid this evening is an afternoon horseback ride with Jorah Mormont through the idyllic countryside followed by a picnic. Included in the prize are two wood carvings of the bidder's choosing crafted by Mr. Mormont. We'll start the bidding at five hundred.”
“I see five. Do I see seven fifty?”
Jorah couldn't see anything beyond the first row of round banquet tables, the brightness of the stage lights nearly making him squint. He blinked at the wateriness growing at the corners of his eyes, unable to see Daenerys from his current position. He wondered if she was the first bidder and if there would be any more. Silence stretched on for a moment; he suddenly felt like a goldfish in a bowl, hundreds of eyes googling at him. Sweat prickled down his spine and he subtly rolled his shoulders against the sensation.
Next to him, the emcee suddenly covered the microphone and leaned down; however, Jorah was unable to make out the earnest mumblings.
“Ladies, there has been a change of plans. You will now have a choice: the horseback ride and picnic afternoon or,” his voice shifting to a more excited tone, “a night on the town. Your date begins with dinner at the swanky new Mediterranean restaurant, Pentos, followed by an evening at the opera. The piece de resistance is how it all ends, wine and chocolates at the sultry Casanova's Cave.”
Jorah gulped and ground his teeth; when this was all over, he was going to kill Tyrion and make it look like an accident. The little git, he fumed, there had been no discussion of changing arrangements. He should have known something like that would happen, given Tyrion's track record for those sorts of things.
But by the time he came back to reality, the bidding was well above a thousand and steadily climbing. Two ladies were locked in a furious bidding war. But not over him and that stung Jorah's heart, though he would never admit it. He knew he wasn't dashingly handsome like Jaime or blessed with charm like Bronn. What he did have wasn't readily seen, it took time getting to know him. He was loyal, protective, gentle, and romantic. Not qualities one could see just by looking at him or meeting him once. He supposed it didn’t matter, he would be polite and gentlemanly, it was only one night after all. And it was for the children, so there was good coming from it.
The bids had now reached three thousand, nearly the same amount Jaime had brought in, the most of the night.
“Do I see thirty-five hundred? Thank you, how about--”
“Five thousand!”
A shocked gasp rose over the crowd, the sound of a shattering wine glass reaching Jorah's ear to his left, followed by an exclamation of ‘bloody hells’. Jorah was thinking the very same thing. He would know that bidder's voice anywhere.
Daenerys.
“Miss, please refrain from voicing your bid. This is a silent auction. Now—”
He started to continue, but Daenerys interjected, “That is my bid.”
The emcee cleared his throat, “I see. Well,” he added haughtily, “are there any further bids?”
The room was silent; apparently, it was too rich for their blood.
“Five thousand going once...twice...sold to paddle number three. Please collect your prize presently. That concludes our auction for this evening. Thank you all for your generous support of the children's hospital.”
Jorah swore he was having a heart attack, his legs felt like jelly and his heart was rabbiting in his chest. To his left offstage was Tyrion, engaged in a rather drunken looking happy dance. Then he dashed off, yelling, “Jaime, you owe me BIG!”
But it all melted away when Daenerys appeared at the stage steps like a light breaking free of the shadows. He stared transfixed, the small smile tugging at the corners of her lips breaking into a giggling grin the closer she got to him.
“I didn’t know you had dimples, Jorah,” she teased, her own sweet and beautiful.
“Uh--” He couldn't seem to find his voice; let alone did he realize he was smiling big enough that she had noticed the indentations on his cheeks. “You look beautiful.” He had blurted out the first thing that came to mind, heat spreading across his face, his eyes wide. “I—”
“Thank you,” her own blush very endearing. “Shall we?”
“O--of course,” he held out his elbow to her and she took it, fitting her body into his side like she was meant to be there.
“I'm looking forward to our date.” Daenerys gazed up at him, her lip between her teeth. Gods, she's gorgeous.
“So am I,” Jorah said, then added hesitantly, “You have a choice.”
“I don't need the second option. I was the first bid, so I know what I want.”
And the way she looked at him left no doubt she knew exactly what she wanted.
He let her steer them toward the open bar where she took two glasses of champagne and held one out to him. “You look like you could use a drink.” Flashing her an appreciative glance, Jorah took the flute and drank a hearty sip. Daenerys did the same before she added, “I know you, Jorah. You hated being up there, you’re not one to seek out the spotlight.”
She was right. Even when he had been awarded a medal of valor for his military service, he had insisted that he was only doing what he had been trained to do and there was no need for all the fuss. And now that the auction was over and he was off the stage, his nerves were for an entirely different reason. Being this close to Daenerys always gave Jorah the feeling of butterflies in his stomach because his job didn’t always require that their arms touch or that he could see the soft dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Tonight felt different than those other times when he had noticed those things; perhaps it was the way she was looking at him, like she did when she had made up her mind about something, confident and resolute.
“Will you dance with me?” She quickly added, “I know it’s not part of—”
“I’d love to.”
The smile that lit up her eyes and face made Jorah’s heart skip and he couldn’t help the one curling his own lips. Taking her hand gently in his, he paused at her table to leave their glasses before he led them to the floor, finding an empty spot easily as some couples had departed, the previous song having just ended. The band transitioned into lighter fare, the music was soft and slow, an instrumental version of a romantic tune Daenerys knew well. The lyrics fit with her feelings perfectly; there were days in the last year when she wanted nothing more than to say ‘enough’ and turn to Jorah, asking him to come away with her. Somewhere. Anywhere. Even just for a little while. He had always been her harbor, her escape from the pressure and stress because he never asked anything of her…except that she just be herself.
“I had wondered why you didn’t take the chauffeured car with me tonight. This was Tyrion’s idea, wasn’t it?”
Jorah seemed to rouse from his gazing at her, “Being up for bid?” Daenerys nodded, “I had planned to donate something, but he kept insisting that being part of the bachelor auction would be a better idea.”
“It isn’t often he’s right,” she said.
“Too true.” Jorah shook his head, chuckling, “I still can’t believe I was worth more than Jaime.”
“You’re not.” Hurt flashed across Jorah’s eyes. “You’re priceless to me.”
They both shared shocked expressions before Daenerys’ mouth snapped shut. She worried at her lip; her eyes fixated on the Windsor knot of Jorah’s turquoise tie. He had known her for two years now and she only did that when she knew she had said too much. Hope flared in Jorah’s chest and he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Are you…glad I decided to participate?”
Daenerys nodded softly once. Jorah watched her blink a few times before she looked up, but whatever else she had planned to say was gone when their eyes met. Tyrion, amongst others, often said Jorah had a way of making people say exactly what they were thinking. And, with Daenerys, that was especially true. “Why?”
“Because…then we wouldn’t be dancing like this.” She paused, her gaze dropping briefly to his lips, “And you wouldn’t be looking at me like that.”
“Like what,” he asked hesitantly, terrified that if he pushed things too far, it would break the spell surrounding them.
Daenerys drew closer, their swaying slowing, the arm around Jorah’s neck drifting down until her hand rested on his chest. It swelled sharply under her sudden, more personal touch. Her tongue darted out to wet her rose petal pink lips, “Like you can’t believe I’m real.”
Despite the din of the room, Jorah heard her soft voice perfectly. How could he have let his guard down…again? Social media was already abuzz with the images of him brushing some stray hairs that had escaped her bun behind her ear at a recent playground ribbon-cutting. The internet was convinced they were an item, what with the way Daenerys had been caught smiling and laughing with him on numerous occasions, not to mention, the pictures Tyrion brought up on his phone almost daily of Jorah ‘gazing adoringly’ (Tyrion’s words) at her. Any questions from the press were always met with the same statement: “no comment”.
Jorah worked with her, respected her, believed in her, and the love he held in his heart was precious and his alone, not something he felt everyone should know about. Besides, he didn’t want her detractors and future rivals using it in any way to damage her rise in the political sphere. But perhaps he had been too careless already, he would need to be more careful going forward.
And yet, with Daenerys so close, her intoxicating scent filling his senses, he found he couldn’t help himself. As if his heart had taken control of his body, his hand cupped her jaw, her soft sigh ghosting over his lips as she leaned into his touch, cementing his resolve. Daenerys drew closer as--
“There you are!”
They broke apart as if they had been caught filching cookies from the jar, Daenerys’ breaths coming short and quick as her hand came to rest over her heart. Tyrion seemed oblivious to what he had just rudely interrupted, a wine glass firmly grasped in his hand as he swayed on every third step. His brother beside him seemed much the same, a broad grin plastered on his face.
“Congrats man,” Jaime yelled unnecessarily over the music, clapping Jorah on the back.
He offered the blonde man a small smile and nod; Jaime had recently severed ties with his wealthy family to put his support behind Daenerys’ reelection to spite his sister’s bid for the governor’s seat. Jorah knew you always remained on civil terms with those who donated to a campaign. From the smallest to the largest amounts, anyone contributing deserved respect and kindness. Jorah looked over at Daenerys, the soft flush on her cheeks almost nearly disappeared. She smiled shyly at him, then gestured toward the bar, a silent question in her eyes. He politely excused himself, making a point to thank her later for getting him out of that awkward situation.
“A hundred says they’ll come back from the date a couple,” Jaime said casually, sipping his whiskey.
“A hundred?” Tyrion shot back, suddenly now very sober.
“Yeah, I gotta get back some of the money I just gave you.”
“Gave me? No, lost,” he emphasized, “in a fair bet, I might add.”
“Fine.” Jaime shrugged. “Either way, we did a good thing tonight.”
“We?!” Tyrion looked affronted, making his brother laugh. “I did all the work here. Months and months of planning and subterfuge. I’ve never worked so hard to get two madly in love idiots together before in my life.”
Jaime smiled wistfully. “Oh, come on, admit it. You enjoyed every minute.”
Tyrion couldn’t disagree.