5 Falling

"I have acquired you a slave, Daenerys."

Perched at her vanity table, elegant wood a dark mahogany from Volantis, Dany continued brushing her silver locks as if her brother had not mentioned his random statement. "Oh? I thought the Free Cities abolished slavery?"

A chuckle left Viserys' lips. "There are always ways, sweet sister." He stepped behind her, placing a hand on her bare shoulder. It was revolting to the touch, clammy and cold, but Dany couldn't care to express an emotion - lest the tears bubble up. "She is a special slave, purchased to be your personal handmaiden alongside what horse trash your husband will provide."

In all honesty, Daenerys had barely heard a word her brother said. All her mind was focused on was either what had happened only a few days before - or trying to forget what happened. Just remembering the words from her likely former friend's mouth made her heart feel like it had been run in with a sword. Dany couldn't take it. Even for the blood of the dragon, it was too much.

Still, the way Viserys had called this new handmaiden a "Special Slave," caused a pit to form in her gut. "Oh?" She tried to seem aloof and disinterested. "How would she be special." Dany set down her brush and glanced at her brother through the mirror.

She watched as the snake-like grin spread on his face, stretching from ear to ear. It clearly amused him to think about. "She is a former whore that served the Dothraki. Doreah will teach you everything you need to know about pleasing a man, Khal Drogo to be exact." The look in his eyes was pure glee, as if he enjoyed the images dancing in his head. Her thin garment left little to the imagination.

For Daenerys, her eyes merely widened in horror. There it was, the certainty of her future brought back like an onrushing bull elephant - it had been drowned out by Jon in the last few days, but was crystal clear now. She was to be married to the Dothraki Khal. Sold like a common slave - by her brother nonetheless. The last family she had left. Of the sweet boy that taught her about the history of their people, both in Valyria and Westeros, nothing remained. The Targaryen madness had set in, leaving him cold and obsessed with power.

Her discomfort and grief wasn't even noticed by him. "You must listen to your future King, Daenerys, for he possesses all the intelligence that is lacking in a mere woman." He ran his hand along her cheek. "I know how to play a man like Drogo. I give him a Queen, and he gives me an army."

"I don't want to be his Queen," she blurted quietly, almost a whisper. It just slipped out. Part of the confidence her time with the northmen taught her rushed to the surface, only to die down upon being reminded of where she was and who she spoke to. Under his peering gaze, she retreated into her usual meekness. "I want…" Jon. She wanted Jon. "I want to go home."

"I do too." Viserys had a puzzled smirk on his face, as if he was surprised she said such a stupid thing - but too dense to read between the lines. "I want us both to go home, but we can only do so at the head of an army. Khal Drogo's army." His hand returned to her cheek, stroking it. It made Dany nauseous. Once resigned to having to marry him to keep the bloodline strong, compared to one kiss from Jon she found she could not do it. Her brother's lack of concern for her only solidified her inner disgust.

"I would let his whole tribe fuck you, them and their horses, for that army, sweet sister." Feeling his lips kiss her on the forehead, soon Dany found herself alone in the room. Totally and completely alone as she was most of her life.

Wrapping her arms protectively around her chest, Dany fought back the tears that threatened to form. Once again denied even the littlest comfort from another, she missed the moments she had with Jon. A connection existed between them, one that didn't make sense to her - but it was there, Daenerys knew it and was certain the raven-haired wolf knew as well. 'My wolf.' Sobs wracking her lithe frame, she needed his comfort, his words of wisdom and kindness, but they weren't available. After their kiss, the happiest moment in her life, he had fled thanks to his insecurities. She cried for what hurt him so.

"You are not a bastard to me." No one around her, the words were lost to the silence.

It should have been for the best. Every voice inside Eddard Stark's head was shouting loudly that they had all averted the the catastrophe hanging over their heads the minute the Bastard of Winterfell laid eyes on the silver-haired Targaryen princess. That didn't stop the proud Warden of the North from feeling like shit. A heavy sigh, a guilty sigh escaped his lips as he watched his flesh and blood train in the courtyard - hacks and parrys were as skilled as ever, but there was an enraged intensity to them. An unnecessary brutality attempting to free demons trapped within the young lad.

Hanging his head, Lord Stark turned and ambled through the lush garden overlooking the Narrow Sea. For him the riddle had an easy answer. It was the fourth morning where Jon trained alone, without the companionship of Daenerys Targaryen. Ned had his theories as to why this occurred, not knowing for sure but surmising.

'It is his destiny, brother,' the nagging voice would keep saying whenever he thought about it. Ned didn't want to believe it - for his entire stay in Pentos he willed to both the old gods and the new that Jon and Daenerys wouldn't share that connection. But, it was all for naught.

Perhaps it was destiny? A song of Ice and Fire, as it had been for…

He stopped, eyes catching a flash of silver in the grove of trees ahead. There was only one of two people in the entire known world it could be, and the gods wouldn't be cruel enough to Ned for it to be anyone else but her. And they weren't. If Ned had any doubt as to the reciprocity of Jon's feelings, the look of faraway heartbreak in Princess Daenerys' violet eyes shattered it. 'A song of Ice and Fire.' Destiny? He made his way into the grove.

'It is their destiny, Ned.'

"Princess." The Lord of Winterfell gave her a small bow.

Staring out at the sea, almost like how she had first found Jon on his first night in Pentos - while barely three weeks before, it seemed like ages since he arrived into her life - Dany nearly jumped out of her skin at the dour northern accent. "Lord Stark," she breathed after catching her bearings. With the poise of her highborn birth, she rose and curtsied for the Warden of the North. "I did not see you arrive."

"Tis' alright," Ned chuckled softly, motioning for both of them to sit on the stone bench. "A wolf instinctively knows how to quietly approach something." It heartened him to see the girl's lip quiver upward at his lame attempt at humor.

'Don't let this go on, Ned.'

"Jon, he's never had the easiest time of it." He could tell she had shifted her gaze, looking intently at him, but he remained fixed on the sparkling waves of the Narrow Sea. It had to be done, or else he'd lose his nerve - words never once thought to apply to Eddard Stark. It wasn't comfortable for him, but his honor mandated it. For his family. "Most bastards in the north, they are but loyal pawns for the family. Useful, but never truly loved."

"But not Jon." Ned smiled. The girl caught on quickly.

"No, not Jon. I always treated him as my own, strived to make sure he knew he was part of the family. My other children… apart from Sansa they all did as well. Her… I know she loves him, but she wishes to emulate Catelyn. Lady Stark."

Dany closed her eyes, welling back the anger she felt for the Lady of Winterfell. It wasn't hard to know why. "Jon told me about her, of how he respects her." That got Ned to meet her eyes, if for only a moment. "But I can tell, the animosity she has for him from his words. She never truly forgave you for straying, and takes that out on him, yes?"

Guilt bubbled within the Warden of the North. "Aye." If only she had known the truth… but the truth could never be told. 'Could it? To her?' If to Benjen, could Ned trust her with this? Such was a question for another time. "With his siblings, Jon can open up from his shell. However, I have never seen him as close to anyone as he has been to you. Like…" Like his mother. "Himself."

Eyes watering, Dany's lip quivered. It went both ways. With Jon she, almost instantaneously, had that elusive home. Where she could simply be… Dany, without the stress and worry of her house and her blood, if only for a little while.

Glancing back at her, Ned felt the facade of anger simmering away. Of course he hated the Mad King, but the weight of history that he wore as armor to fulfill his promise, it melted in the face of this innocent girl. She was blameless for her father's madness. Blameless for the mistakes of her eldest brother. 'For Jon she is…' That may be much too far, but there was no denying to himself that the two's destinies were intertwined somehow. Even if miniscule.

Daenerys broke his thoughts, standing. "You are an honorable man Lord Stark, and have raised an honorable son." She possessed the regal poise of a queen, but her violet eyes burned with determination and… love? "Thank you for this talk." A small smile crossed her features. "I will take it to heart."

Watching her graceful form leave, feet rushing along the stone path in a brisk walk, Ned let a massive breath he had been keeping in exhale. "Seven hells, what did I just do?" This had gone far beyond what he had hoped to contain. His promise long before continued to pop in his head, her words seared in his mind...

"You have to protect him. Promise me Ned. Promise…"

That memory never ceased to bring the great Eddard Stark to tears, glad only the wind rustling through the olive and acacia trees bore witness to it. The greatest loss of his life, the loss of one of those most near and dear to him - it still gripped his heart like a vice. There was no greater honor than keeping the promise made that day, regardless of the consequences. Jon was safe. No matter what, he was safe.

'And now Daenerys is in his life.' The loving, carefree female voice was strong and clear in his mind - as if she were next to him. 'You knew this day would come, Ned. She is now as much a part of him as he himself is.' He closed his eyes. He now had both their lives in his hands.

'You know what you must do.'

"Promise me Ned."

Every muscle aching, Jon collapsed onto the bed. Illyrio kept his house stocked with plenty of fresh water - all available at a call for a servant - and for this Jon was grateful. Even with the sea breeze the heat was overpowering, and cool water felt welcome on his skin. Hair damp from both sweat and where he splashed water on it to cool, changed into a clean tunic he allowed himself the moment of recovery following his mid-afternoon training session.

He was exerting himself past mere exhaustion. Unlike someone like Theon Greyjoy, Jon wasn't dense enough to deny the undeniable. Pushing himself to the breaking point every day turned his muscles into limp rags by dinner, and if he kept it up only trouble would result. But Jon needed the solace training provided. Needed the escape venting his anger through his sword gave him. Needed to get the image of her devastation out of his mind.

Needed to get her out of his mind.

"You deserve more than a bastard." Words still as true as they were when first spoken. Jon's heart ached from having to turn her away, from breaking what had been his only real connection to a person not his family. 'She was just my friend, nothing more.' He had to believe that, to believe the kiss meant nothing. It haunted his dreams, how much he wanted her, but he knew it was for the best.

Hearing a loud thump on his door, Jon blinked the tiredness from his eyes and rose, wincing at the soreness. Expecting his father, his mouth dropped at the sight of the very person that haunted his thoughts so. "Daenerys…"

"Out of my way." Without so much as a greeting, the silver-blonde goddess pushed her way past him and into the room. Her lips were pursed in a determined scowl, jaw set in determination. She looked angry. She looked breathtaking. Oh how he wished to take her in his arms and kiss her over and over again.

Jon willed that desire to the recesses of his mind. "You shouldn't be here. Not alone in my chambers."

The princess literally growled. Blood of the dragon. "Don't you dare tell me where I can and cannot be, Jon Snow." Whereas once it was like a vice on her heart, now his sadness and insecurity spewed forth an anger deep inside her. Dany would not let him do this - not let him think this way about himself. She would make him see the truth if it killed her. "Why have you been avoiding me, Jon?"

He fought to be emotionless, cold. "You know why. This is not proper."

Though unladylike, the noise Daenerys made clearly expressed her opinion on his statement. "Stop lying. I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen." The regal thunder in which she spoke shocked her. She never spoke in this manner to anyone, the back of Viserys' hand making acquaintance with her cheek for far less. "You will tell me the truth!" He remained silent, looking away - Dany would not stand for this. "Tell me," she said in a softer yet steeled tone, stepping closer until she was looking up into his face.

The violet eyes drew Jon in like a magnet. They were filled with steel, anger, and… pain. If he looked deep enough, he could see the pain he caused her. It tore him in two. "I'm sorry, Dany. But it was for the best."

Daenerys scoffed. "You can't possibly think that."

"I am a bastard, Dany."

"Do not speak of yourself so lowly."

"It is the truth," he exhaled with a heavy heart, only to see his hand encased by hers.

The other cupped his cheek, causing a wave of silence to descend over the room. It was as if time stood still, only the two of them remaining in the world. Moving forward, Daenerys melded her lips on hers in a sweet kiss. It was electric, warming her wonderfully while still hurting her heart that this was the most that they could do. She wanted this man more than anything, but could never have him.

But Dany still could make sure he never thought badly of himself again - if that was all that came out of this, she'd be content. "You listen to me, Jon Snow, you are not defined by your birth. You have a noble heart, just like your father."

Though it warmed his heart to hear the woman that had enchanted him since his arrival praise him so, her statements still seemed to ring hollow. "And what does it all give me? No matter how good I become I will always be a bastard."

"You will always be the man that means so much to me."

He blinked. "Dany…"

"No. You've done so much for me, simply by being here. I know it's been short, and I know that…" she bit back the crushing, painful truth. "I will never regret meeting you, Jon. I…" She couldn't say it, it would only hurt both of them even though she knew he likely felt the same. Please don't ruin the last bit of time we have together. Let us just have this."

Opening his mouth to respond, Jon thought against it. She was right, they did have so little time together. 'I can't do this to her, let her suffer more.' Part of him felt that he did deserve this, was a good person, if only that the amazing creature that was Daenerys Targaryen thought so. Smiling, he kissed her again, this time just as passionately as their first.

Feeling her heart burst, Dany melted into the kiss. The two of them fell sideways into the bed, soon ending up nestled together. Jon on his back, Dany cuddled up against him. Both wishing they could go farther, but knowing they couldn't.

"I'm sorry, Dany. I really…"

"Shhhh." Dany enjoyed his embrace. The feeling, that of pure calm and contentment that had been so lacking in the last few days, was back - even moreso. She didn't want to think about the future, about a time where she was going to have to let this man go. They couldn't go forward, even if they wanted to. No husband would take such a prize as her if she wasn't a maiden. Daenerys had her duty, and Jon had his honor. Best not to think about it. "You should really wear more proper clothes in this weather, Jon Snow."

A snort left Jon's face. It was just such a random topic, but he appreciated it. He didn't wish to think about leaving Dany as much as she apparently did. "I like my clothes, Daenerys Stormborn. They suit me, and I can tolerate the heat and sweat."

"That's not what I have seen," Dany giggled, patting the young man's chest - such a firm chest, not as muscled as Drogo but well suited to his frame. "And I couldn't say that I wouldn't enjoy seeing you bare chested." It felt downright naughty, but Daenerys knew that Jon Snow was the only one who could get her to this undignified, flirty state. Just a feeling.

"Of course you would." He chuckled. Taking the initiative, he guided her chin up and kissed her again on the lips. Dany moaned, spurring him to deepen it. The feeling was indescribable.

Once he pulled away, the silver-haired princess remained in a haze for several moments before blinking it away. "I refuse to believe there is no girl in Winterfell waiting for you. A kiss like that must have been honed by practice." Not having been kissed before, she still knew through instinct who was a good kisser - and Jon Snow definitely was.

Jon shook his head, playing with a strand of silver hair. "You were my first kiss, my Lady." A rose blush colored his cheeks, feeling a bit embarrassed.

Melting, Dany looked at him with longing. 'Gods, could this man get any more attractive to me.' She leaned up and pecked his lips again. "I'm glad, Jon Snow."

Leaning down, he kissed the crown of her head. "You should head back to your rooms, Dany. Prince Viserys would not take it well if he discovered you here."

Much as she would want to stay with him, Dany knew him to speak the truth. "He and Illyrio would have a fit seeing me in an unattached man's room." Not just a fit. 'The dragon would wake if I did anything to jeopardize him obtaining his precious army.' She stood, immediately feeling alone and lost out of his embrace. "I shall see you at dinner, and then tomorrow morning in the courtyard for training."

Jon cocked an eyebrow. "You want to start that up again, princess?"

"But of course." She smiled slyly, winking. "What kind of person passes up a chance to be taught by Jon Snow of Winterfell, master swordsman." This man deserved to be praised, and Dany planned on using the little time they had to boost his confidence.

To her delight, he merely shrugged sheepishly. "Whatever my Lady wants, Daenerys Stormborn."

Maybe, just maybe, they would be alright.

Even at night, Pentos was a bustling place. There always seemed to be people in the streets. Essosian smallfolk and drunk sellswords were out and about for business or pleasure, their cackles and shouts echoing through the cavernous alleyways. Thus no one seemed to notice the cloaked figure darting through the shadows. Passing guards or smallfolk ignored him as he strode purposefully, determined in his goal.

'There!' The flophouse was run by a gnarly former infantryman of the Golden Company, purchasing it with a share of gold from a bonus paid to them by the city of Qarth after completing a contract. It was dilapidated and filthy, but was still packed with those down on their luck and passing through the city. 'Oh how the mighty have fallen.' The figure ducked into the stairwell leading up to the rooms, sneaking past a sleeping security guard. The person he sought deserved to be in this hell, though that could change depending on tonight.

While nowhere near as cunning as the Master of Whisperers, the figure had managed to use some 'little birds' of his own to find the exact address - among other, far more juicy tidbits of information. Confident, he gently rapped on the rotting wooden door. Sounds of steps and groans came from inside.

"What?" an irate Jorah Mormont ground out before being pushed roughly into his room. Previously fast asleep and groggy, he was wide awake now. Anyone would have been with a sharp blade pressed against their throat. "Please, I don't have much money."

The figure drew back his cloak to reveal Eddard Stark, hard steel in his grey eyes. "It is not money I am after, Mormont," he said evenly.

Jorah sighed. He had expected this might happen ever since running into the Warden of the North at Illyrio's mansion. The disgraced noble had made his peace. "Go ahead, my Lord," he said respectfully. "Carry out my sentence. I submit to your justice."

"I am not going to kill you for that, Mormont," Ned rasped, keeping his voice low but the blade firm. "However, I know the real reason why you're offering your services to the Targaryens." He smirked darkly. "You intend to sell information to Robert Baratheon for a royal pardon."

Eyes widening, Jorah wracked his brain for what could have tipped Stark off. He found nothing. "What is your business if I did?" he croaked, sweat pouring from his brow. "You hate the Targaryens as much as he does."

"Aye, I hate the Mad King with all my heart and soul, but the Mad King is dead." Deciding it was time, he lessened the hold he kept on Jorah's neck. "The girl is innocent, Mormont. No harm can come to her."

"That can't be the true reason." A voice in his head told him it was a bad idea to press his tormentor, but he was curious and Ned weakening the sword's hold made him bold. This went beyond honor.

Ned closed his eyes, and when they opened Jorah was shocked to find pure emotion. Grief. "Long ago, I promised one I loved with all my heart that I would protect someone." An image flashed before his eyes, of a laughing Jon, happy and at ease for the first time in his life. He was with Daenerys, sparring with her - there was no doubt in his mind that she was the cause of his happiness. Denial was counterproductive. Jon had found his dragon, as Lyanna found hers. He was too late and too trusting to protect her, but he could and would protect Jon. In totality. "And I am fulfilling that promise, though it has now expanded in scope." He took a deep breath. "I am offering you a chance to redeem yourself."

This Jorah did not expect. Here was a chance, not just to go back home but a chance to atone for his shame, to make his family and father proud again. No royal pardon could do so, but a pardon from the Warden of the North could. "What must I do?" The decision was easy.

"First, let me say this. I always liked you, Jorah. You were honorable and good, which is why it pained everyone in the north when you did what you did." His eyes met Jorah's, sheathing the sword back into its scabbard. "Do you regret it?"

"Every day." There was nothing that Jorah wanted more than to take it all back.

"Good." Ned rested a hand on a battered table, leaning on it. "I need you to protect the girl, Jorah."

Jorah blinked. "Which girl?" He had a feeling but had to be sure.

"Princess Daenerys." He met the disgraced Mormont's eyes once more. "Make sure no harm comes to her, and you will have your pardon." It was sealed with a clasp of the hands.