[ kiss + soft ]
Ser Jorah entered his Queen’s tent, bowing his head, “My apologies, Khaleesi, but the Unsullied caught one of the sellswords trying to sneak into the camp. He claims to come bearing gifts. It’s the yellow fool with the blue hair.” Without another word, he existed for a moment only to bring her the man that called himself, Daario Naharis. The exile studied the sellsword, displeased with the way the man watched his Queen. Aye, he was younger and brazen in ways Jorah was not, and more favorable to the dragon queen, but he still hated watching her favor others in front of him. How he yearned for the stares these two exchanged, hoping for those violet orbs to pierce him for longer than a moment. The blue-haired fool fought his way out of the Knight’s grasp, moving closer to Daenerys, too close for his liking; bending to one knee and in a blink, Daario’s Arakh was free of its sheath. Jorah’s hand reached for the pommel of his longsword, grasping it and quickly releasing it from the scabbard. Steel kissed flesh, waiting to lay open his throat. The sellsword only laughed, angering him more, but the man never moved, only said, “My sword is yours. My life is yours. My love is yours. My blood, my body, my songs, you own them all. I live and die at your command, fair queen.”
The bear gripped his sword tighter, itching to spill the blood of this peacock, uttering the same oath that he did not long ago, and only receiving a soft and gentle kiss to his cheek before turning back to her regal self and demanding that he remember his place and that she will hold him to his oath. Now this man sings her praise with a cocky smile that Jorah wanted to wipe off his face. He did not trust this Daario Naharis. “That would not be wise, my queen.” Ser Jorah gave Daario a death stare, daring him to challenge his words. Please, keep him under guard until the battle is fought and won.” The flush that graced her cheeks when she turned to look at the sellsword caused him to look away, ashamed at the jealousy that washed over him.
The Tyroshi got to his feet, shoving the steel away like nothing, before bowing to the queen he swore his sword for and swept from the tent without another word. Ser Jorah lingered. “Khaleesi,” He said sternly, “you cannot trust him. We know nothing of this man--” He swallowed for a moment, letting the lump that formed in his throat to pass before continuing. “He has a way with words, aye, but what do we know of his intentions?” He sighed, “Daenerys, I am thrice your age, “ Ser Jorah said. “I have seen how false men like him are. Very few are worthy of trust, and Daario Naharis is not one of them. Look at what he did to his own men? What do you think will happen after he brings you the stormcrows?” The silence that followed started to make him nervous--she never kept her thoughts from him. His face softened’ perhaps he was too harsh with her, too blunt, becoming too familiar with her. With her back towards him, he could not see her thoughts or emotion--uncertainty started to unfold, causing his hand to reach towards her delicate shoulder. Knowing his place, he lowered his hand, ready to leave, when her sweet voice broke all resolve. “I did not dismiss you, Jorah. Your Queen has not given you permission to walk away,” Still as stone from her command, he lowered his head, ready for the sharp words that were sure to come.
A warm, delicate hand cupped his cheek; lightly stroking the scruff, lingering for a moment before trailing its way towards the soft curls that curled at his nape. His breathing seized; daring not make a sound for it would ruin this moment that he longed for since he laid eyes on her. When fingers wrapped and toyed with his hair, he couldn’t help but close his eyes in contentment, lost in the touch that would never happen again. The coldness that once was present was replaced by fire; her lips softly pressed to his, molding them to shape around her cupid-bows, pulling him closer, allowing him the warmth that her body was ready to share for the two of them. He wanted to enfold her in his embrace, lift her up, and carry her to the pillows that littered the corner, but the other part of him knew he should stop this before she shattered his heart to pieces.
