The familiar, terrible smell of burnt human hung in the air. Even as Jorah had muttered dracarys to Rhaegal, he found no joy in it. The rebel camp exploded, forcing survivors into the surrounding woods where the Unsullied were waiting. 'Battle' was a far a descriptor as you could get. It had been a slaughter.

"Well done," Jorah nodded to Grey Worm, who was joking with one of his soldiers.

Grey Worm nodded back. "Dragon Commander," he replied with an easy smile. "Too bad the dragons cannot do this part."

The dead and dying men on the ground were all unfamiliar to Jorah. He rolled a young rebel over and found him choking on his own blood. Grimacing, Jorah put him out of his misery. Though the woods stunk of death, Jorah willed himself to find joy in it. The attacks would come to an end at last. Peace could settle over the city once more. The children would be safer. The kingsroad safer now. This is for the best.

Ahead, a body writhed on the ground. A soft moaning drew him in. Jorah strode over and meant to roll the body over with his boot, but the long curly hair made him suck in a breath. It cannot be. He knelt and easily rolled the body over. He wanted to wail in anguish when familiar eyes blinked up at him.

"Baylee?" he whispered. Jorah pulled her cloak aside and looked her over. Her red dress was damp. No, he realized in horror, her dress was grey but blood-soaked. She's been stabbed. A gaping wound in the side of her stomach had a partner on the other side of her abdomen. Mother and child would soon be dead. Her pregnant belly was slouched to one side and Jorah didn't dare examine her wound further. Instead, he looked up to her face and forced a smile. "I'm surprised to see you in this part of the country, my lady."

Baylee took as deep a breath as she could. "I was coming home," she muttered softly. "I should have the first time." She sighed and her head dropped to the side. "Forgive me." She was cold and tired. At least he found me, Baylee thought in relief. He'll take care of me. In her fog, she was thankful Jorah didn't appear to be mad at her. Perhaps there's still hope for us.

Jorah nodded and took her hand. "You're home," he said gruffly, fighting back tears. "You're forgiven. You lost a baby and needed a change, like you said. I understand. None can fault you for that." Pressing his lips together, he nodded. "You're home."

Trembling so hard she could scarcely speak, Baylee laughed weakly. "You'll take me back?"

"Of course, of course," Jorah nodded, touching her face, her hair, one last time. "Everything is how you left it. Your window seat, your books. And the baby will have everything."

Nodding weakly, Baylee hmmed. She could see it: Jorah lifting the child out of its bassinet in the morning sunshine, a wide smile on his face as the babe, dark haired and pale, reached out to pat his chin. She smiled. "Yes."

"Good. We'll go soon." Jorah blinked through tears, which trickled down his cheeks. "All the rebels are slaughtered. The city is safe. Those who attacked you are dead." He stroked her face once again. "Justice, Baylee."

Her lips tugged upward for a moment before she gasped and choked. Blood trickled down her chin.

"Shh," Jorah cooed her, praying she wasn't in pain.

"Home?" Baylee whispered. Before Jorah could answer, she began to hyperventilate and shake.

This is it. Jorah knelt and wrapped his arms around her as best he could. "Baylee, Baylee," he cooed, wishing he could turn away. She was going into shock. Jorah squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, but quickly regained his composure. This is it.

The color drained from her face and her chest rose and fell rapidly, unnaturally. Jorah had seen countless men die on the battlefield. Seeing Baylee die was too much. Yes, she left him and was pregnant by another man, but she didn't deserve this death. She had been a good wife to him. Suddenly he recalled her drawing him a bath and soothing his cracked, bleeding skin. "I won't leave you. I won't leave you, Baylee. Rest, just rest." His voice broke and tears fell from his eyes onto Baylee. "You're home."

A gurgle from her throat caught the attention of Javo, who rushed over. "Why you keep this survivor, Lord Commander? We kill them all, Khaleesi says."

"No," Jorah muttered softly as the queensguard dropped to one knee beside him.

"Lady Mormont?" Javo asked in confusion. "She fight?"

"She was at the wrong place at the wrong time," Jorah sighed. He wiped a tear away with a bloody glove. Red smeared across his cheek. "Go. I'll stay with her."

Another series of violent tremors shook her body, then she went limp in his arms.

Javo put a hand on Jorah's shoulder. "We bring her back."

"Home," Jorah whispered.

A week had passed since the rebellion fell. The battle was uneventful, yet Daenerys and Jon had decided to show their unity between North and South by gathering in King's Landing for a celebratory feast. Neither the queen nor king felt like revelry, as Baylee Mormont was already in her tomb. Jorah denied a grand funeral, and instead quietly buried her himself.

It was the night of the feast. Merry music played and dancers from Essos roamed between long tables of lords and ladies. In the midst of it, Jorah saw a flash of red hair flying toward him before a woman launched herself into his arms.

"It's so unfair," Sansa Stark squeaked before between violent sobs.

"My lady," he soothed her. Jorah wrapped his arms around the woman, his white cloak falling over his arm and over her shoulder. "I'm so sorry. I know Baylee was a sister to you."

Sniffling, Sansa nodded and looked up, her green eyes even more vibrant when rimmed with red. "I'm so sorry, Ser Jorah," she whispered. "It's all wrong. I wanted to write sooner. I tried to talk to her. I cannot believe she's gone. Maybe if she hadn't- oh, I don't know."

He nodded. "I know." She tucked her head under his chin and Jorah was surprised to hear himself sigh.

A gruff voice came from behind him. "If you're quite done with my sister?"

Jorah turned and quickly nodded his head to King Jon. "Your Grace," he said plainly.

"Excuse us, Sansa." Jon stared expectantly at her.

She shook her head. "No. I'll stay here. Anything you can say between the two of you has to do with my friend. I'll stay." She rested a hand on Jorah's chest and her head on his shoulder. "You cannot say anything ill of her."

Jon looked as if he wanted to strike her, but turned his attention to Jorah. "I'm sorry about your wife," he said.

"You'll recall she wasn't my wife any longer, and by your order," Jorah answered. He tried to turn Sansa out of his chest, but she stayed planted to the spot and clutched his cloak harder as she fought off her tears.

"I'm sorry," Jon repeated. "For all of it. Truly. I- had I known it would lead to this, I-"

"As am I," Jorah replied brusquely. "Baylee wasn't just my wife. Many will miss her and mourn her." At that, Sansa exploded into a new bout of wails. He stroked her hair. "I'd lived without Baylee for months and never expected to see her again."

"Was she dead when you found her?" Jon asked.

Jorah was surprised at the king's nonchalance. "No," he replied. "Nearly, but no. She said she was coming home to me."

Sansa wailed harder. "I knew she would. She was good. She was good!" She glared at Jon. "You took advantage of her! I told you she was good."

"That's enough," Jorah softly said. "What's done is done." He glanced up at Jon, who swallowed hard and struggled for words.

Lylane bounded over and threw her arms around Jon's legs, since Jorah's were covered by Sansa's skirts. "Ser Jorah, Ser Jorah, what now? Will you get a new wife?"

"Lylane, not now," Jon barked, cuffing her on the shoulder. "Those are not appropriate questions for a man whose wife just died. Can't you see the adults are talking? Go find Septa."

"She's all right," Jorah replied, smiling down at the girl. "She's a princess. She'll do as she pleases."

Sansa sniffled and stepped back. "Lylane, remember, we must be proper ladies in King's Landing."

Unphased by Sansa's tears, Lylane sighed. "But you're not acting like a lady," she snapped. "Is Ser Jorah going to get a new wife?" She blinked at him, awaiting an answer.

"Lylane!" Jon boomed. "Enough!"

"I'm too old to get married again," Jorah offered.

Lylane frowned. "Nuh uh."

He made a face. "I didn't have a wife for a good many years," he replied. "I'll just look after the realm. How's that?"

"No," Lylane snapped. "A wife!"

"I'll look after queens and princesses, then." Jorah nodded. "How's that?"

"Maybe I'll be your wife one day," Lylane suggested. "Aunt Sansa says it doesn't matter who you marry as long as he's a good man. She always says you'd be a good husband, right Auntie? On the way here she said you would be a good husband and Lord of Winterfell."

Sansa hiccuped in surprise. "Lylane, come along. Let's let your father and Ser Jorah talk." A blush had already lit up her cheeks. She bent and took Lylane's hand, casting a quick glance at Jorah before hurrying away.

"Stark women," Jon mumbled.

Smiling in spite of himself, Jorah nodded. "Starks, indeed."

Two Months Later

"The rebellion is over, the dead are buried, the dragons full grown." Daenerys leaned on the railing of her balcony and sighed contentedly. Brilliant colors swirled in the sky as the sun set. The pink glow made her eyes look fluorescent. "How long do you think this peace will last?"

Jorah watched the clouds light up in rich oranges and purples. "Hard to say, Khaleesi. It could be years. It could be an age. It could be until tomorrow."

The queen turned to him. "How are you, my bear?"

"Don't worry about me, Khaleesi."

"I must. You're my closest friend and adviser. I'd be lost without you." She sighed and turned back to the sunset. "I wish I could love you better, I truly do."

Jorah glanced at her, curious at what brought about her pensieve mood. "I know, Khaleesi. It is enough to serve you. My life has been well spent by your side. I have no regrets about my choices and loyalties, perhaps save serving Robert Baratheon."

"You don't regret marrying Lynesse Hightower? What a foolish woman," Daenerys scoffed. "Are you certain you're pleased with her execution? Should you have any kindness for her, I'll allow her banishment."

He considered it for a moment, then nodded. "She's a traitor and a rebel. She should die with the rest of them. It is not my right to decide who lives and who dies in this game of thrones."

Daenerys nodded. "Then she shall die with the rest after their trials are at last complete."

A silence fell over the pair. They drank their wine and watched the sun disappear beyond the horizon. Jorah glanced upward. The stars were twinkling in their blue blanket. He liked to imagine that Baylee was at peace somewhere, finally at home and feeling like she belonged.

"Lady Stark quite fancies you, you know," Daenerys broke the silence. "She kept finding the strangest reasons to bring up your name this afternoon. Plus, she's been loath to leave. Jon's been gone for a month."

Jorah scoffed. "She's young," he chuckled. "She'll learn better. Her fancies would be better spent on a handsome young northman. What of Remy? He's mentioned perhaps considering taking another wife." He thought fondly of his man and how loyal he'd turned out to be. Remy was on his path to knighthood and Jorah couldn't help but look at him like a son.

"She has no interest in Remy. 'Does Ser Jorah ever tea with you?' 'Does Ser Jorah go riding in the mornings?' 'What does Ser Jorah think about that?' If I knew her better, I'd have asked why she didn't just beg my blessing for a marriage." The queen smiled. "It wouldn't be a bad match, you know."

Jorah cast her a sidelong glance.

Daenerys laughed. "None else would dare look at their queen that way," she challenged. "None but my dragon lord." She embraced him and rested her head on his shoulder. "How our lives have changed."

"Aye," Jorah agreed. "An exile knight and a hunted princess, now a queen and her stooge."

She stood back and cuffed him on the arm. "You're not a stooge. I already told you you're my everything. Rebellions will rise and fall, marriages will be proposed and fail, and seasons will change, but you'll forever be my beloved bear."

The wind left Jorah and he nodded. I'll serve her until my dying day, and I'd have it no other way. Not entirely fulfilling, not exactly what he'd once wanted, not quite logical, but enough. It was enough.

A/N: I 'm bad at goodbyes. I love these characters! I have another Jorah story in the works - this one is a Young Bear and his Maiden Fair. (; Keep an eye out for it soon.