Chapter Text
One Year Later
Jorah wasn't sure how many times he had watched her like this or how many times he had fought the urge to crawl back into bed with her. Sometimes he couldn't believe it had been a year since they were reunited on that fateful day. Well, it had really been longer ago than that, but their official relationship was one year strong today. The day she had confessed her love, trusting him with her heart once more, had been a new start, a reset of sorts. And Jorah had decided to do things right. He asked her on a date, a real first date, seeing as they had never had one. He courted her as he had always believed she should have been: bouquets of her favorite flowers, holding hands and sharing sweet, tender kisses. Then Daenerys had received that envelope, contained inside information that would change their lives forever. She was a very rich woman now, but Jorah really couldn’t care less about the money. All he cared about was being with her, wherever she decided that would be. She was his home, not a building somewhere. So, she made up her mind, they were going to Scotland. Edinburgh to be exact. Leaving Jorah’s house had been especially hard for Daenerys, she’d fallen in love with it during the time she had lived there. Finding a new one in their new city had proven difficult, nearly every one they visited she had found some fault with it. Too big, too modern, too ostentatious. But then, on the very last day of their search, she’d found ‘the one’. She had called it the Goldilocks house, the perfect fit for her and her bear. They’d bought it on the spot. But what Jorah hadn’t told her was that he had never sold their old house, he had seen how much it had hurt Daenerys to leave it, so he kept it, planning to surprise her at some later date.
A slightly different occupation, as well as different scenery and her constant presence, had a very good effect on Jorah. There was a change in his demeanor, he smiled a bit more, his posture less upright and tense. But when they walked down the street, he still walked on the side closest to traffic and if anyone ever got too close to her in public, he'd steer her away with a gentle hand against her back. He still looked out for her, still made her feel safe even if there was no lingering threat. The change in scenery had been a blessing for her too, she had finally felt like things were the way they should be, the way she had always wanted them to be. Life was good. Really, really good. That's not to say every day was perfect. They had their rows, of course, almost always about something silly, like clothes left on the floor or used mugs left in the sink. They rarely fought about important things, like money or time prioritization because they agreed about those subjects. Daenerys was a fiery woman, and when she argued, it was with an intensity Jorah had only glimpsed from her. It took quite a bit more to raise Jorah's ire, and during most of their arguments, he was merely frustrated. He never raised his voice to her, he had done so once as her bodyguard and regretted it deeply. While their disagreements never got very heated, their make-up sex was. Clothes pulled from bodies in a hurry, fierce kisses, and Jorah on his back beneath her. They started fast and ended just as quickly, and when it was over, he held her in his arms, the brush of his lips and his touch were gentle, soothing, his declaration of remorse and love so sincere it would bring tears to her eyes.
Daenerys shifted in bed, turning onto her back, nearly spread eagle. The sheet did little to hide the fact that she was naked, the fabric molding to every curve and gentle swell of her body. The soft early morning light made her appear luminous, her silver hair and pale skin reminiscent of some ethereal being. Gods, she's beautiful. It wasn't the first time he'd thought it and it wouldn't be the last.
He had never looked forward to an anniversary the way he had with theirs. He had the evening planned months in advance, their day unfortunately taken up by work. He had half a mind to call in sick and spend the time with her.
“Morning, my bear.”
Drawn from his thoughts by Daenerys' sleepily mumbled greeting, he found her staring at him, head propped on her hand, a fond expression on her face. “Morning Khaista.”
“Come back to bed,” she patted the mattress next to her.
“Daenerys,” he said slowly, “If I do that, we'll never make it to work on time.”
“And that's a bad thing?”
He smirked, sometimes it was so hard to resist her. But instead of moving toward the bed, he walked to the closet first and opened it, removing a big box from inside. “Wouldn't you rather open your gift?”
“You're my gift.” Her eyebrows waggled, “I love you in that bathrobe.”
“This old thing,” he gestured to his well-worn red flannel dressing gown. He smiled, sitting down next to her. “Happy anniversary, Daenerys.”
She sat up and took the gift from him, setting it in her lap, admiring how he always wrapped her presents so beautifully. She opened it with care, lifted the lid, and parted the tissue paper. She gasped, her hand running over the rich dark leather cover of a large sketchbook and underneath was a new set of brush pens, her favorite type of marker. She had been eyeing these items for weeks and clearly Jorah had been paying attention when they had last gone to the art supply store. “You remembered.”
Before he could respond, she had her arms around him, the box trapped between them. She pulled back and met his eyes, “It's perfect, Jorah. Thank you.”
“You're welcome, love.”
“I have your gift,” she said, disentangling herself from his embrace to open the drawer of her nightstand, pulling out an artfully wrapped box. She set it in his lap, watching expectantly as he undid the bow and lifted the lid. He took the book out slowly, its leather cover a bit worn at the corners, the edges of the pages yellowed with age.
“Daenerys,” he said softly, his gaze tearing away from the gift to meet hers, “how did you find this?”
“An art dealer I know is friends with an antiques dealer. I mentioned in passing that this is your favorite book, and next thing I know, he's phoning me that his friend has a copy.”
He opened the cover with care and went to the copyright page. His suspicions were confirmed, it was a first edition.
She smiled. Jorah was speechless, but the look on his face was easy for Daenerys to understand. “I'm glad you love it, Jorah.”
He put it back in the box and cupped her face with his hand, his thumb brushing over the apple of her cheek, “Thank you, love.”
And then he kissed her, soft and sweet, before resting his forehead against hers.
“Do we really have to go to work today,” she whispered, “I just want to spend the day with you.”
“So do I.” He brought her fingers to his lips, “But you have that buyer coming in and I have that important regional meeting.”
“You're right,” she sighed, tossing back the covers and getting out of bed. But Daenerys thought she'd give it one last go, sashaying slowly toward the bathroom. Stopping at the door, she glanced over her shoulder to find Jorah smirking at her, shaking his head slowly.
“It was worth a try,” she shrugged, then disappeared behind the door to get ready for the day.
***
Letting the door to the gallery close behind her, she basked in the stillness of the cool room. She enjoyed being there at that time, a whole day ahead of her, brimming with possibilities. Even after a year, she still sometimes believed it was all a dream. There was a time before Jorah came into her life that she thought she would likely meet the same fate as her brothers because of her father's bad choices. But that was such a distant memory now, falling asleep in the arms of the man she adored had a funny way of making her forget her past. Setting her bag and keys down on her glass desktop at the back of the gallery, she reached into her purse to retrieve her mobile, needing to check for any messages from the buyer. She felt paper instead of smooth glass, her brows drawing together in confusion. Did I put it in a different pocket? She peered inside the deep cavern of her handbag and that was when she noticed the familiar, tidy script on a yellow sticky note.
You are never far from my thoughts, love
Jorah
Daenerys couldn't stop the grin from breaking across her face. No matter how many times Jorah left these little notes for her, they still gave her that lovely rush of warmth in her chest. Gods, how she loved him. He was everything she had ever wanted in a man: sweet, romantic, and wholly devoted to her. But it was so much more than that. He got her to stop and think before impulsivity got the better of her. He calmed her thoughts and helped her see the good amongst the bad. He made her feel safe, physically, mentally and emotionally. When she was with him, she felt light, the weight that had once been heavy on her shoulders was gone. This note deserved a special place, but where to put it? The thin bezel of her sleek computer monitor was no longer white, it was multi-colored. Blue, green, orange, even pink sticky notes. He didn't give her one every day, but it looked like he did with the amount she had stuck there. Her favorites, though, were along the bottom, where her eyes would drift during slow periods of the day. You’ll knock ‘em dead, love. You are my everything. I can't wait to hold you later. This one went next to that sentiment, her fingers lingering over the words after she affixed it there. She sighed happily; it's going to be a good day.
***
“Hello, Jorah.”
She was standing with her back to him and he marveled at how she could identify him solely by his footsteps. Or maybe it was his scent, she had said she could place it anywhere. He'd joke with her about that and she'd always say the same thing: I learned from the best. “How was your day, love?”
“Sold some art, scheduled an exhibition for a local artist. You know, the usual.” She turned, smiling, “How about you, my bear?”
“Translated some intercepts, listened in on a wiretap of a terrorist cell. You know, the usual,” he winked with a small smile.
They always asked each other about their day. For Jorah, it was sometimes a way to decompress, to deal with some of the awful things he overheard, saw, and translated. And Daenerys knew that he needed that, someone he could confide in, even if he didn’t divulge everything or if she didn't fully understand it all. It was more about the listening, being a sounding board and she could do that.
Her smile broadened; he had stopped at home and changed before coming to get her. His work attire wasn't a suit anymore, but rather, just a dress shirt, slacks, and his ID badge. It had taken him awhile to get to used that change. He'd always considered the suit his uniform of sorts, or as she had thought of it, his modern day armour. Eventually, Jorah told her he considered the change in dress code to be a good thing. Letting the past go to start fresh. He didn't carry a firearm anymore either and she often wondered if he felt naked without it. Jorah could be just as proficient with his fists though, so she never worried about her safety.
The past year had been, dare she say it, peaceful. It was the life she'd always longed for. And she had it with the sweetest, most gorgeous man. Tall and lean, with his sky-blue button up, dark wash jeans and black leather jacket, he was so handsome it almost hurt. The loud beeping of her fax machine drew her attention away, the LCD screen letting her know the message had been delivered. “Great, now we can go. I've been waiting for that fax to go through for the last hour.”
Collecting her purse and mobile, she went to grab her jacket, but stopped, “Oh that's right. I forgot it this morning.”
“Sometimes I wonder if you do that just so you can wear mine,” he remarked teasingly, but he was already shrugging out of it.
“Maybe,” her eyebrow arching before she turned so he could help her into it. The jacket swam on her frame, the sleeves engulfing her hands, but it was a sight Jorah loved. “Besides, it's always warmer than my jacket.”
She rose on tiptoe, pressing her lips to his. He wrapped an arm around her waist, deepening their kiss, holding her to him a bit longer than usual. And when they broke apart, there was a softness in his eyes that made her insides all fuzzy.
He linked their fingers as they walked to the front entrance, where she engaged the security system with the code before locking the door after them. Three gray slate stone steps led down to street level and she paused on the second one, stowing her keys momentarily in Jorah's right jacket pocket. Normally he didn't carry anything in them, save for the inner one, where he kept his wallet. But there was something cool and round beside her keyring, her fingers following the shape, her heart beginning to beat faster with the realization of what it felt like. She pulled it out and her breath caught. It was a small round cut emerald in a platinum setting bordered on each side by a delicate Celtic knot pattern. Simple yet beautiful.
“That's not how I planned for this to go.” Jorah looked crestfallen, his hands in his pockets, shoulders slumped.
She couldn’t find her voice, she could only gape at him.
He took the opportunity of her shocked silence to continue, “I know that you wouldn’t have wanted an elaborate, public proposal. I also knew that while you deserve the best that I can give you, this ring suits you far more than any large diamond ever would. I brought it with me hoping that there would be a quiet moment when I could ask you.”
She swallowed and looked up at him, and while she may have had tears in her eyes, her look was playful, “Ask me what, Jorah?”
He inhaled a deep breath and took the ring from her fingers. He held her left hand in his, “I don’t know what I may have done in my life to deserve you. Sometimes I look at you and I can’t believe you’re real. Daenerys, will you marry me?”
His blue eyes looked down at her and she saw a bit of worry in them. She rested her hand on his cheek, her response simple but sure, “Yes.”
He exhaled his breath through a laugh and kissed her, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her off the ground. A few people had stopped and they were greeted by some cheers and whistles of congratulations. They broke their kiss at the noise, Jorah smiling broadly as she blushed slightly.
She drew her bottom lip between her teeth as he set her back down and slipped the ring on her finger, a teasing hint to her voice, “Jorah, you didn’t kneel on one knee to ask me.”
He smiled at her, his eyes full of mischief and affection, “Don’t worry, love, I’ll kneel before you later.”
She arched her eyebrow at the double meaning in his words, not only looking forward to what later would bring, but to the rest of their lives together.