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Storybrooke didn't stand out in any way on the maps, forgotten by the world, just another small town in Maine. It was surrounded by water on one side, and by seemingly endless forests on the others. For most residents the life was good there, however far from a fairy-tale bliss people secretly dream about. Like everyone in this world, they were bound by the human weaknesses, struggling to be the best versions of themselves. What helped them get through the mundane routines of life were wonderful friendships and a strong sense of community they had always felt.
Although welcoming, Storybrooke never got any visitors, therefore the local infrastructure didn’t include many attractions. A humble harbor, a quaint Free Public Library with the Clock Tower that hadn't worked for a decade, and a family-owned restaurant that also served as a cafe were the main "landmarks" of the town. There wasn't much competition on the local food map, except for a few small pubs in the suburbs.
One of those pubs was tonight’s destination of Daenerys Targaryen, a temp working for the Storybrooke’s Elementary School. As the summer had ended, the beginning of the school year brought autumn with all its glory, with the vibrant colors of the trees, occasional rains and early sunsets. The evening walks felt like night walks already, but the soft carpets of fallen leaves and slightly foggy air made them feel like strolling through some mysterious lands.
Daenerys wasn't paying much attention to the weather, though. She was heading to the same pub she had visited each Thursday evening after finishing her part-time job at a nursery located within the school complex. She liked working with little children, babysitting them while they were waiting for their parents to pick them up. Spending her mornings or afternoons with the little ones was great, but, at the same time, she felt as if she had been stuck doing the same thing forever. And this wasn't something she had wanted to do originally.
Her real dream was a job which would give her the time to connect deeply with her pupils and let her have some real impact on their upbringing and education. She had often thought about this and longed for it, for making a difference in someone’s life, for making it better. Unfortunately for her, there was no place for another teacher in Storybrooke, and this was as close to the desired position as she could get. She had figured it would eventually help her gain some experience and raise her chances of becoming a teacher one day. Theoretically, she did already work at the school.
But today, strolling on the quiet street to the pub, her walk wasn’t tired or overshadowed with unfulfilled dreams. She was heading there with vigor and a wide, radiant smile brightening up her face every now and then. Today she had learnt that her fate was about to change. One of the most outstanding teachers, Ms. Olenna Tyrell, a tutor of the fifth grade, had declared that she was retiring. Which was both sad and fantastic news.
Daenerys and Olenna had always been friends, and the young girl knew she would miss Olenna’s presence. She was one of those people thanks to whom days at work passed more pleasantly. Whether at the teachers’ room or at staff meetings, her witty comments were always a highlight, especially the not-so-subtle remarks pointed at their school’s principal, Cersei Lannister, and her decisions.
On the other hand, Olenna's departure meant that her position would soon be left vacant. All the other teachers had their own responsibilities, so, with no other candidates and Olenna’s recommendation, her departure meant Daenerys’ imminent promotion to the more prestigious and better paid position.
When the young Targaryen realized what it meant for her, she couldn’t help the exhilarated rush of blood in her veins. Something was finally going to change, and she would get the chance she had always dreamed of. She would be able to unfold the wings of her ambition and really teach! Open the doors of imagination and knowledge to the children and help them navigate through all the possibilities that stood in front of them. She felt passionate, excited, and so full of hope that it was hard to contain it all, even in her big heart!
Soon enough the little colorful lights hung at the entrance of the pub appeared before her, gently moving in the wind like fireflies tempted by a neon sign that cut through the darkness with its sharp brightness. Amazed, Daenerys looked at her watch and noticed that getting there had taken her much less time than usually. And the reason for her rush was her desperate desire to share the news with… someone special, who was waiting for her inside, like every Thursday evening.
Excitement boiled in her belly, creating a very pleasant warmth that soon mixed with the warmth of the inside of the pub. She took off her scarf and coat and headed towards the main room with cozy leather couches and booths, dark wooden floors and small vintage lamps hanging from the ceiling, dimly lighting the place.
She looked around and before she could spot the person she had been dying to confide in the whole day, she saw her friends sitting at the bar. Unfortunately for her quest, they saw her too and waved at her joyfully.
“Dany, I’ve heard the news, I’m so happy for you!” said Mary Margaret, with her snow-white skin and short black hair. She was not only one of Daenerys’ two best friends, but also a colleague, a teacher who taught the fourth grade. Her kind soul, passion for nature and all the living things along with her valiant spirit made her a perfect pedagogue. “You don’t mind that I’ve already told Missandei, do you?” she asked, pride and genuine glee making her smile even more charming.
“No, of course not,” Daenerys smiled too, hugging her other friend, who also congratulated her.
Missandei, with whom Daenerys had been friends for as long as she could remember, was the best hairdresser in Storybrooke, talented and friendly, humble, beautiful, and extremely caring.
“I didn’t know you were coming here today?” Daenerys asked, still a bit surprised to see her girls at the pub that evening.
“Well, we thought we should celebrate, don’t you think?” Mary Margaret asked with enthusiasm.
“That’s very nice of you, thank you,” Daenerys smiled politely but she wasn’t sure how well she was hiding the painful tiny spark of disappointment that got stuck in her heart like a thorn spiced with guilt.
She was grateful for having such friends in her life and she appreciated them. She could count on them, and she knew they would always be there for her, but it wasn’t them she needed that evening. She just wanted to spend it with someone else.
Suddenly, Missandei burst into laughter, as if she couldn’t help it any longer, and discretely covered her mouth with her hand. Mary Margaret followed, utterly amused.
“Missandei?” Daenerys prompted, thrown off-balance.
“We’re just teasing you, Daenerys,” Missandei giggled.
“We won’t keep you from your charming knight,” Mary Margaret said, theatrically pronouncing the last two words. She patted Daenerys' arm and reached for a drink that was waiting for her on the counter.
“Oh… he’s not… he’s not my knight, I’ve told you so many times that Jorah’s just a friend,” Daenerys tried to convince them with all her seriousness, but they never listened to her on this matter.
The subject of the conversation, Jorah Mormont, was a tall strong man in his late forties, with blonde hair, light stubble and kind, sky blue eyes. He was older than Daenerys, but it never stood in the way of their friendship. She had always felt at ease around him and wouldn’t hesitate to trust him with her life. She just wasn’t sure about her heart yet.
She had known Jorah for a very long time, so long that it felt like forever. Their paths had always seemed to cross in the small town, so, whenever they saw each other, they would chat and find interesting new topics to discuss. In the summer they often enjoyed walks in the picturesque forests surrounding Storybrooke, warm teas at Jorah’s chalet on the outskirts or coffees at Daenerys’ flat. During the school year they developed a habit of spending Thursday evenings at the pub, but none of those meetings had ever been labeled as a “date”.
Mary Margaret liked to romanticize reality. She believed in true love and finding the special person one was destined to be with. Someone like a perfect Prince Charming, who would stroll in on a white horse and bring the happy ending to a cursed princess. Each time Daenerys mentioned Jorah, Mary Margaret would smile dreamily and suggest following their hearts.
Although it was easy to laugh away Mary Margaret’s romanticism, Daenerys couldn’t wave aside Missandei’s gentle knowing gaze. She valued her opinion more than anyone else’s and was willing to admit that her best friend knew her even better than she knew herself. They had talked about her relationship with Jorah many times. Missandei had always listened patiently and, at the end, had always concluded that it wasn’t just friendship.
Daenerys couldn’t deny that she had always enjoyed Jorah’s company, that she had felt cared for, safe, and adored by him. She liked listening to his stories, his laughter, looking into his eyes, and when he looked into hers.
But was it enough to call it love? She had loved once, before. And she hated it the most in the world when she had to look at her husband suffering, and eventually dying in her arms. Although it had happened in the times long gone, Daenerys was afraid those memories would always haunt her. She was convinced she wouldn’t let herself love again unless she was absolutely certain… That it would be worth it.
“Yes, yes, we know, he’s just a friend,” Mary Margaret teased with a wink.
“We saw him take a booth down that corridor,” Missandei pointed to the right.
“Thanks,” Daenerys smiled back, squeezed her friends’ hands, and headed in that direction. She left Missandei with Mary Margaret and a story of how she had to deal with Joffrey Lannister, the school principal’s son, bullying Henry Mills, the Mayor’s son, who fell in love with Myrcella, Joffrey's younger sister.
Daenerys was keen on leaving all this school drama behind and finding Jorah. She turned into the corridor to the right and the first thing she saw was someone’s bum. And not just anyone’s. It was Ruby’s bum.
Ruby was a beautiful girl, a few years younger than Daenerys. She was known for being a little rebellious and definitely liberated in the sense of fashion. She liked feeling attractive and would always wear something red, either burgundy high heels, a scarlet beret or a neckerchief, or at least crimson lipstick. The only person who could compete with her in the matter of wearing red was Melisandre, an owner of "The Red Woman", a small vintage shop nearby.
Ruby would sometimes moonlight as a waitress in the pub and on a daily basis she worked at Granny’s Diner, the most popular restaurant on the Main Street, run by her grandmother. The two would always fight over Ruby’s outfits or her attitude but in reality they shared more than they realised. Loyalty, devotion, and big hearts were some of the things their friends could say about them without a second thought.
Right now, Daenerys was looking at Ruby’s red mini skirt, riding dangerously upwards and barely covering the top of her long legs, as the girl was leaning over a table in the first booth.
“Amm, excuse me, Ruby,” she said, trying to go around the girl.
Ruby stood up momentarily and turned around with a smile, her long dark hair falling perfectly on her shoulders.
“Oh, hi Daenerys! What can I get you?”
“I’ll take a seat first,” Daenerys said with an intention of continuing down the hall, but Ruby stopped her.
“Well, Jorah’s right here!”
Daenerys’ eyebrows rose high when she noticed that the first booth was indeed occupied by Jorah. And Dr. Archie Hopper, a local psychiatrist.
The fact that Archie had joined Jorah, while he had been waiting for her, wasn’t strange. They shared a similar vibe of a little bit withdrawn, quiet, honorable men and Daenerys knew that the two were friends. What was weird, was the embarrassment painted all over Dr. Hopper’s blushing face and an amused smirk on Jorah’s lips.
“I’ll move to the bar! Nice to see you, Daenerys,” Archie said quickly and before she could even say a proper hello, his red curls and tweed waistcoat were gone, and Ruby’s big blue eyes followed him.
“Can I get you something?” the girl asked, still looking at the direction where Archie disappeared. A secret, slightly cocky smile graced her face.
“We’ll take champagne. Thanks, Ruby,” Daenerys made a questioning face at Jorah, but he just innocently shrugged his shoulders, so she sat down. The sight of him was enough to put her in a good mood.
“Are we celebrating something?” he asked with a spark of curiosity in his eyes. His arms were crossed over the table, making the blue shirt fit closely to his muscular shoulders and biceps.
“Yes, we are,” Daenerys nodded, caught up in the blue of his eyes enhanced by the color of his shirt. “I’m getting a promotion. I’ll be a teacher!” she announced proudly.
“I’m so happy for you, well done!” Jorah rose up at once, and two quick steps later he was enveloping her in his big bear hug. Yes, this was definitely the place where she felt comfortable and undisturbed.
“You deserve it like no one else, I’m so proud of you,” he whispered and kissed her forehead. Then, slowly leaning away, he looked down into her sparkling eyes. “I hope this will be everything you’ve wished for.”
“Thank you, Jorah,” she caressed the side of his face.
When they sat down again, Ruby came with the champagne bottle and two tall glasses.
“To you, and to fulfilling your dreams,” Jorah said, and the intense, charmed look he gave her when they clinked their glasses in a toast made her gasp slightly.
“I’ve been dying to tell you the whole day,” she whispered.
“I’m honored,” Jorah lowered his gaze humbly. “But didn’t you also want to see your friends? I thought I saw Mary Margaret and…” he started, evidently remembering his previous doubts about whether Daenerys’ intention for that night was to sit with him.
“No,” she gently cut this thought away with a shake of her head. “I came here for you,” she admitted. She touched his right hand, at first lightly brushing over his fingers, until he gently took her delicate palm into his.
When Jorah asked her about her day, she told him how Olenna’s news made her feel both exhilarated and sad at the same time. She talked about her ideas concerning her new role at school and the plans she wanted to make to deal with the challenges ahead. Later, she also shared her doubts and inmost fears and he, as always, offered words of encouragement and comfort which uplifted her spirits once again.
“I wish you had told me about it earlier, I would have brought you a gift or at least a flower,” Jorah said, toying with the last of his champagne in one hand and her fingers in the other.
“This is enough for me. I don’t need anything more than this,” she assured him, covering his hand with hers for emphasis.
“How about a walk in the forest? Tomorrow, let’s say, an hour before sunset? You end work earlier, right?” he asked.
“Yes, sounds great,” Daenerys agreed, happy that they’d spend more time together.
“You don’t have any plans for a Friday evening? With your girls or…?” he started but left the end of the sentence open.
“Girls, or…?” she prompted teasingly, curious where Jorah’s imagination was going.
“I don’t know,” Jorah got ruffled and looked down, “I’ve seen, um, Capitan Jones trying to buy you a drink the other night.”
The way he looked up at her, with slight embarrassment, understanding, and a bit of longing, almost made her heart melt.
“Killian?” she asked about a charismatic one-handed sailor who had indeed hit on her a few times, with no results. “Definitely not. He reminds me too much of my ex,” she made a wry face and Jorah laughed.
“Let me guess, Daario?” he made a similar face, took a deep breath and slowly let it go, as if he wanted to do the same with the memory of that man.
“Mhm, let’s not go back there,” Daenerys laughed too and rubbed the back of his hand.
“Okay, so no plans?” he made sure.
“Only you,” she stated happily.
***
The next morning, when gloomy mists still shrouded the streets of Storybrooke, Jorah made his way to the place in which he knew he could get a perfect, unique present for Daenerys: Mr. Gold’s shop.
Mr. Gold’s Pawnbroker & Antiquities Dealer was always full of all sorts of antiques. Anything a soul could desire would be easily found there. The cluttered space was lit with blunt lights, letting a bit of mystery wander around the shelves and nooks. It smelled of old books, wood, and some exquisite perfume.
Even though the items for sale always caught an eye either with their beauty, rarity, or the story hidden behind each and every one of them, Jorah Mormont never liked coming there. He didn’t remember the last time he had visited, but he knew he had always felt uneasy being watched by the shop’s intimidating owner.
There was something deeply disturbing about his calm, slender figure and small shrewd eyes. The scrutiny in them made Jorah feel as if Mr. Gold knew everything about everyone and was ready to trade upon that. Or at least, if he didn’t know everything already, as if he was willing to make any deal to find out all his secrets. Not that Jorah had many, but he didn’t think Mr. Gold would hesitate one second before using them against the unfortunate person who had stepped on the dealer’s toes. He was known for always abiding his contracts and never letting anyone waive from them, no matter how ruthless it would make him.
“Mr. Mormont,” Mr. Gold greeted him when a little bell rang, announcing Jorah’s entry. “How can I help you?”
For his misery, Jorah wasn’t sure. Otherwise, he would have taken the one thing he wanted and got the hell out of that place. Instead, he had to search for something perfect.
“I’m not looking for anything specific. Just need to find a present,” he answered reluctantly, a deep frown appearing on his forehead. Mr. Gold came out from behind the counter and moved closer. His cane tapped on the floor as he made a few steps towards his visitor. He was much smaller than Jorah, both in height and silhouette, but his charisma would suppress almost anyone’s presence.
“For a woman?” he asked with a sly smile. There was nothing unkind in his eyes, but with this man one could never know what was going to happen next. Jorah figured if one ever became Mr. Gold’s enemy, it was just as probable that he would hold them hostage in his basement as that he would offer them a cup of tea. Maybe with a bit of a special something in it.
Jorah only hummed in response and moved his eyes from the shop owner to a cabinet next to the entrance. It was not Gold’s business who he was shopping for.
He looked at old, colorful lamps with stained glass shades, miniature ships, candlesticks, vintage bags. He looked at a tea set with one chipped teacup, but they wouldn’t do. He needed something more personal.
“You might want to see some figurines over there,” Mr. Gold waved across the shop, “there is also some jewelry there that might interest you,” he winked and returned behind the counter. Just when Jorah was slowly making his way in the suggested direction, another customer entered the shop. It was Mr. Baelish, the only man in town who could rival Mr. Gold in cleverness and a penchant for business.
“Did you bring it?” Gold asked with a spark of excitement that he tried to cover up with false irritation.
“I did,” Baelish nodded. “Mr. Mormont,” he greeted Jorah and joined the shop owner, taking out a beautiful dagger with a carved hilt. Gold hummed with pleasure and both men moved to the back of the shop.
Jorah sighed with relief. He liked neither of those men. Glad to be alone, he found it surprising that the shop could feel nice sometimes.
He leaned to look at the figurines in a cabinet in front of him. Porcelain dolls seemed a little creepy. Wood-carved animals made him think of his father and he looked away. He held a little stone pyramid closer to his eye to examine all the details of its rugged walls, but he put it away. Finally, he saw a dragon figurine, carved in sandstone. It was simple but well-made, cream-colored, with no paint over its outstretched wings and winding tail. From the jewelry cabinet he also took a brooch with three dragon heads. Picking out a present for Daenerys turned out not to be as difficult as he had imagined. He knew she would like the dragon-themed gifts.
Just when he was about to make his way to the counter, something caught his attention. Standing next to the jewelry cabinet, he looked down at it one more time. In the corner, there was a ring he hadn’t noticed before, but under the right angle, its gleam made it impossible for him to look away. He leaned to better see it, and then took it gently between his fingers. It was silver and had two pearls, placed as if they were two buds of flowers.
It's ridiculous, I can’t give her a ring. I’m not proposing, just taking her out, he thought, irritated, because the thought, although seemingly completely irrational, instantly planted a tiny seed of regret in his heart. He wanted to put down the ring but couldn’t bring himself to let it go. When he was looking at it, something was filling him with a sense of both nostalgia and reassurance. He didn't think he had seen it before, yet he felt a connection, as if, for some reason, the ring was important to him.
At last, he put it back into the jewelry cabinet and took one step away.
He closed his eyes. Thoughts were churning in his mind like storm clouds. He couldn’t. He couldn’t not buy it. Maybe he wouldn’t give it to her right away, maybe he would wait for another occasion? Like a birthday or… anything, really, because he wanted so badly for her to have that ring. Two crossed pearl flowers made him feel a strange kind of longing and hope, and calmness. It didn’t have to be weird, him buying a ring for a girl who wasn’t even his girlfriend, did it?
Finally, with the dragon figure, brooch, and the ring, he made his way to the counter. He just hoped that Mr. Gold wouldn’t smile any of his knowing smiles anymore.
By the time Jorah left the shop, the sky had already begun to clear up and the rays of the warm autumn sun were shyly chasing away the clouds. Gazing up at the sky, he almost walked into Archie.
Curious about what had happened between the shy, well-mannered psychiatrist and the extravagant, daring waitress, Jorah stopped to ask, but Archie only offered a dusty answer. He obviously liked the girl and, judging by her look and the way she had leant over their table to flirt the previous night, she was willing to go for it too, but Archie just wasn’t ready or confident enough to admit it.
On the other hand, when Archie asked Jorah about where his relationship with Daenerys was going, he was just as reluctant to talk about it. He gladly gave in to a distraction across the street, where he spotted a loud couple strolling in the sunlight. The lovely dark-haired woman in a bun laughed sonorously and looked as if she was having a lot of fun teasing the man whose hand she was holding. He enjoyed her company too, whispering something into her ear.
Their sight reminded Jorah of something that could make for the best present for Daenerys. He excused himself from the conversation with Archie and hoped his new plan would work out.
***
When everything was ready, an hour and a few minutes before sunset, Jorah reached the Troll Bridge, a popular gateway to the most scenic paths in the forests surrounding Storybrooke. Daenerys arrived punctually and after exchanging a few remarks on the weather and the day, they started their stroll in a comfortable silence, admiring the autumn wonderland.
The forest looked like it was taken straight from a fairy-tale. In the warm light of the setting sun, the colors of the leaves varied from bright yellow, through sharp orange, to daring red at the tops. They danced in the wind like little ballerinas, performing pirouettes in the air for the first and last time. Down on the ground, under the dark, contrasting trunks, the fallen leaves created a dense, rustling carpet in which gray squirrels with puffy tails searched for their hidden delicacies.
The pathway, now visible only thanks to the gap between the trees, led through ups and downs, sometimes steep enough to come with stone or wooden stairs.
“I’m so glad it’s not wet today. Otherwise, we would have just slid down,” Jorah joked, yet he offered Daenerys a hand for balance each time they descended or ascended slopes or stairs. It was already a little dark, because of the clouds that had decided to show up in an overwhelming amount. If it wasn't for the delightful aureate foliage, the golden hour that day wouldn't be golden at all.
“I’m afraid we won’t see much of the sunset from the Bald Hill,” Daenerys noticed, pointing at the grey layer covering the sky and the last bits of sun. “Thankfully the forecast didn’t show any rain for tonight!”
“Don’t worry about the clouds, the sunset will be beautiful,” Jorah said.
“You’re quite mysterious today,” Daenerys remarked, but Jorah only offered her his arm to grab as they were ascending their destination. Carefully looking down at the leaves at their feet, Daenerys didn’t see a big round shape hiding behind the last trees that covered the slopes of otherwise bald, as its common name suggested, hill.
When she finally lifted up her gaze and a beautiful, huge, colorful balloon came into her sight, it was hard for Jorah to stop the smile that was pulling the corners of his lips upwards. The balloon was made of red and white, vertically striped fabric with some ornamental patterns on one cerulean horizontal stripe. It was attached to a decorative wicker basket, held on the ground with the help of several ropes and ballast bags. It was quite spectacular, and Daenerys must have shared this opinion, because her face expressed sheer exhilaration and surprise.
Jorah knew his friend well enough to notice that, although she obviously enjoyed small moments of happiness, Daenerys usually kept that regal sense of reserve towards things in life and didn’t express her emotions overly plainly. So, whenever he managed to draw a spontaneous laughter, a teasing comment or a surprise, it would be all the more rewarding. And now, when she gazed at him like that, with gratitude, joy, and sparkles of excitement in her eyes, she looked absolutely divine.
“How did you do it?” she asked, the emotions made her voice lose its usual lower register.
“Well, I saw this couple a few days ago, flying in a balloon over the city. And I happened to have binoculars with me, so I could get a closer look. Originally, I only wanted to take a stroll in the forest, but this morning, believe it or not, I accidentally stumbled upon that couple in front of Mr. Gold’s shop. Maybe it’s not the dragonback I know you’ve always dreamed about,” he stopped to listen to her adorable laughter, “but I asked them if they’d be willing to lend it for one evening. And they agreed,” he humbly shrugged his shoulders.
“It's magnificent, Jorah,” Daenerys put her arms around his neck and hugged him, then quickly turned around and boldly jumped into the spacious basket without any help.
“Flying is in your blood,” he praised her, hopped inside himself, and detangled the ropes keeping them on the ground.
“Maybe, but I’ve never flown a balloon before,” she admitted, brushing her fingers over the ropes and the edge of the basket. “Have you?” she asked.
“I know my way around it,” he reassured her, but she laughed lightly, as if trying to let him know she wasn’t concerned about this.
“I know no harm will come to me when I'm with you,” she whispered.
Jorah only smiled in response, moved by her confession and trust. He let go of a few bags of sand kept as a ballast and quickly handled the rope used for filling the balloon with gas. Soon they were flying up.
“Wear this, it’s going to be cold up there,” he handed her a warm overcoat and a big woolen scarf. Daenerys wore the clothes, but she was more engaged in observing the world becoming smaller and smaller underneath them. She was boldly leaning against the railing while Jorah took care of keeping the right course. And secretly observed her. The colors of the trees down there were wonderful, even without the sunlight. But she… she was always marvelous to him.
When they flew into the cloud, Daenerys moved closer to him. She gently directed his hands away from the steering devices and left them up in the air, her own hands mirroring his a few inches away. Under his questioning gaze, she looked around in wonder.
“We’re in the cloud, Jorah. We’re touching the cloud.”
She was right, the feeling of amazement and the childlike joy of reaching the seemingly unreachable filled his soul. He was so grateful for being able to share this moment with her. And her eyes told him so plainly that she felt exactly the same.
“Thank you, Jorah,” she said and moved a little closer.
And suddenly, whether from the proximity of her body or from the delighted look in her eyes, unusually close to him, he felt panic creeping up his guts. His eyes widened a little, his breath quickened. Out of nowhere, he felt the need to run. He looked around at the gray fog surrounding their basket and remembered something.
“I have something for you!” Jorah blurted out with relief.
He turned around a little bit awkwardly and, with shaking hands, opened a wooden box in the corner of the basket. He fished out the present he had bought that morning, now finely wrapped up in a colorful wrapping paper.
“What is this?” Daenerys asked curiously, still focusing more on Jorah’s face than the little package he was offering her.
“Just something I thought you’d like, a present to celebrate your promotion,” he winked at her and leaned against the railing, observing as she was gently pulling at the paper.
“Dragons, I love it!” She thanked him, taking a closer look at the little figure and the brooch, twisting them in her hands to see each gift from every angle. “They are perfect,” she said and reached out to take him into her arms once again.
Right when her hands enfolded him, they raised above the cloud and the most beautiful sight appeared before their eyes.
Miles of puffy clouds, all illuminated with the fabulous colors of the setting sun that still hung above them and was now blinding them with its warm rays. The tops of the cumulus clouds looked like infinite fields of candy floss in the most delicious flavors, varying from sweet peach, light raspberry, to pale violet blueberry at the far ends of the horizon. Neither of them had ever seen a sunset from such an extraordinary perspective!
While looking around and admiring the view, Jorah saw something sparkle in the wooden box in which he had kept the present. Daenerys saw it too and before he could react, she was leaning to see what it was. In the blink of an eye, he paled.
He had carelessly left the pearl ring in that box. He remembered now, he had been packing the other gifts and forgotten that he had put it there!
He looked at Daenerys, terrified of what she might think upon seeing the ring. Suddenly, the romanticism of the situation hit him. The balloon flight, the sunset, the gifts, oh no! At least he hadn’t brought wine! She was not supposed to get the ring that day, and certainly not in those circumstances! Terrified and speechless, he watched her sit on the floor, pick up the ring, and take a closer look.
There was no fear on her face. There was no embarrassment, no disappointment, no reproach.
For a while Jorah was trying to decode her feelings, but her face grew serious, focused, looking down on the shiny object in her hands. Finally, she lifted her gaze up at him and gave him a look filled with so much emotion: gratitude, affection, wonder, longing. He was taken aback by her reaction to the ring. It was so similar to his own.
Daenerys slowly got up and a singular tear fell down her cheek. She looked at him in a different way now, as if seeing something she had never seen before. Unable to watch her cry, he gently wiped the wet trace away from her face. She nestled her cheek against his hand, and with half-lidded her eyes she carefully yet surely closed the distance between their lips. The sweet taste he had always secretly dreamt about filled his senses, almost sweeping him off his feet. Jorah placed his hand on the small of her back and held her a little bit closer, sensing by the way her body relaxed that she might be experiencing something similar.
He could feel her, he could understand her, and he didn’t need a single word. The language of the kiss was enough to assure him that something had changed today, that he was no longer just a friend to her. The passion of the caresses of her lips over his, of her tongue over his, the way she took the side of his head into her palm and gently stroked his hair told him that he had just become much, much more than that.
Jorah wasn’t sure what exactly moved Daenerys so deeply about the ring, but, then again, he wasn’t sure what had pushed him into buying it either. He just knew he had been right to listen to this instinct and trust that the feelings it awoke in him, it would also awake in her.
And by some magical force it must have worked, because now he was standing way above the clouds and holding the most beautiful and incredible woman in the world in his own arms. And the way she looked at him was more absorbing than the most breathtaking sunset he had ever seen.
“I can’t explain it but… This ring means something to me. It reminds me… tonight made me see that you’ve always been the most important person to me, the one with whom I want to share every aspect of my life,” Daenerys whispered into his ear, “and that I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you, Jorah,” she said and her voice broke a little at the end.
Jorah held her a little tighter and kissed her gently, teasingly, lovingly.
“I love you. I’ve always loved you,” he said, looking straight into her eyes and sealed those words with another kiss.
The pearl ring sparkled on Daenerys’ finger in the light of the setting sun, high above the clouds. In a dreamy paradise, where happy endings awaited.