Daenerys nodded slowly, her violet eyes heavy with fatigue. "Go ahead, Eddard. Say what's on your mind."
"It's a pretty straightforward matter," Eddard said, the easy smile sliding off his face. His voice dropped into a register that made the air on the terrace feel ten degrees colder. "Your man here, Jorah Mormont, is a vassal of House Stark. He's a wanted man in the North. He sold people into slavery to fund a lifestyle his wife wanted, and he bolted like a coward when my father-in-law went to Bear Island to take his head."
Eddard stood up, his grey-blue eyes locking onto Jorah with the weight of a falling mountain. "I'm Sansa's husband and the son-in-law of Winterfell. I'm here in the name of the King in the North and at the direct request of Lady Maege Mormont. I'm taking Jorah back to finish the sentence he ran from."
The Queen froze. For a second, the words didn't even register.
Jorah, however, reacted instantly. He lunged from his seat, his hand white-knuckling the hilt of his sword. His eyes darted between his dazed Queen and the man he now realized was his executioner. "Not happening!" he barked, his voice raw.
He'd been wondering when the other shoe would drop. He knew a Karstark wouldn't just "forget" a crime like slaving. Eddard was a Stark in everything but name - upright, fair, and painfully strict when it came to the law.
"Jorah, think about what you're doing," Eddard warned, his voice rising. "You sold Northerners like cattle. That's a death sentence. Then you betrayed the Starks to hide out with a Targaryen. You've shamed the North, you've shamed Bear Island, and because of you, the Mormont name is a joke in the Seven Kingdoms."
Jorah didn't argue. He knew the facts were against him, but he kept his chin up and his hand on his steel.
"Lord Eddard, is this really necessary?" Ser Barristan cut in, his expression pained. "We've been through hell together on the battlefield. Can't we find another way?"
Barristan had his own issues with the "Great Bear." Back in King's Landing, he'd heard Varys boast about having a spy in Essos. He'd spent months looking for a reason to out Jorah as a turncoat, but in Astapor, he'd realized the man actually loved the Queen. He'd helped Jorah hide the secret, using it as leverage to keep him away from Dany's private chambers. He didn't want Jorah near her, but he didn't want him dragged off in chains either.
Eddard looked at the old knight. "Ser Barristan, this is Northern business. It's family business. Stay out of it."
Eddard had made a promise to the Mormont women before he left Harrenhal. He intended to keep it. If Jorah wouldn't go for justice, he'd go for the memory of his father, Jeor, who had died with honor while his son lived in disgrace.
"Jorah," Eddard said, his tone turning clinical. "One chance. Put the sword down and come with me quietly. Bran will do what he can for you, but if you make me take you by force, all bets are off. You know how this ends."
Jorah swallowed hard. He knew exactly how it ended. He'd seen Eddard send pit fighters flying with a slap and dominate a dragon. Against the "Winter Wizard," he was an ant. But he stayed in his stance, looking like a man who'd rather die on his feet than live in a cage.
Eddard sighed, his hand beginning to glow with a dim, dark light. He was ready to drop a [Weakness] spell on the man and be done with it.
"Lord Eddard, stop," Daenerys said, finally snapping out of her trance. "Jorah is my subject. He helped me win Meereen. He's been by my side through the Red Waste and the Dothraki Sea. He has been loyal when no one else was."
She looked at Eddard, her eyes pleading. "I will answer for his crimes. Name a price. Gold, ships, whatever the North wants, I will pay it to keep him here."
"Loyalty is a transaction, remember?" Eddard said, turning back to the Queen. "Maybe you don't know the whole story. Jorah didn't come to you out of love. He came because Varys the Spider told him to. He was a spy, Daenerys. He sent reports on you and Viserys to King's Landing for years, hoping to trade your lives for a royal pardon."
The silence that followed was deafening. Jorah started to shake, his sword arm finally wavering. The secret he'd spent every waking hour guarding had just been ripped out of his chest.
Clang.
His longsword hit the terrace floor. Jorah fell to his knees before the Queen. "Your Majesty... I..."
"Tell me he's lying, Jorah," Dany whispered, her heart hammering against her ribs. "Tell me we didn't cross the Waste together while you were writing letters to the men who killed my father."
Jorah couldn't even look at her. He just bowed his head.
"When did you stop?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"In Qarth," Jorah croaked. "I sent one last report from there. After that... it was only you. It was always you."
Dany recoiled as if she'd been struck, leaning back into her cushions to put distance between herself and the man who had been her world. Eddard watched the drama unfold with growing impatience. He wasn't a marriage counselor; he was a Regent.
"Daenerys, don't act like a victim," Eddard said bluntly. "You're a ruler. When someone betrays you, you either forgive them or you break them. Crying won't fix your city."
Dany took a shaky breath, wiping the tears from her face. She looked at Jorah, her brave Great Bear and then at the cold reality of his letters.
"I forgive you, Jorah," she said, her voice hollow. "But I can't protect you anymore. Go. Go back to the North with Eddard. Face your King. Face your family. Do whatever you have to do to find your honor again, because you won't find it here."
She looked at Eddard, a sad, exhausted smile on her lips. "Take him. I'm too tired for more blood tonight. Discuss the Yunkai campaign with Ser Barristan. I'm going to bed."
Eddard nodded. He reached out and gripped Jorah's shoulder. The man didn't resist; the fight had gone out of him the moment the Queen spoke.
"Karas! Tie him up," Eddard called to the door. "Get him to the Sunbeam. We're handing him over to Bran for judgment when we get back."
Eddard watched the guards drag the broken knight away. He saw Missandei peeking through the doorway, her golden eyes full of worry for her Queen. Eddard just shook his head and headed for his own room. He had a war to plan, and his hair was still missing.
Dorne. Sunspear.
Tyrion Lannister strolled through the Water Gardens, the sweet, heavy scent of blood oranges filling the air. He cracked one open, the juice staining his fingers as he took a bite.
"Delicious," Tyrion said, offering a segment to the man walking beside him. "You want some?"
Oberyn Martell didn't even look at the fruit. He looked at Tyrion with a mix of amusement and a very pointed lethality. The last time they'd met, Tyrion was the Hand and Oberyn was the guest. Now, the tables were turned. He was hosting a Lannister in Sunspear because the "Winter Wizard" had sent him.
"I still can't believe a Lannister has the stones to walk through my front door," Oberyn said, a dangerous edge in his voice.
"Why wouldn't I?" Tyrion shot back, acting as if he were on a summer holiday. "Is Dorne at war with the West? I'm the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Oberyn. Surely I'd have heard if we were trading spears instead of oranges."
"Drop the act, dwarf," Oberyn barked. "You know exactly why I'm annoyed."
Tyrion spread his hands. "Look, be fair. I was ten years old when King's Landing fell. My father thought I was a disaster and kept me locked in a library. You can't blame the kid for the sins of the lion. The kid I was, anyway."
"Ha!" Oberyn let out a sharp laugh. "You're a Lannister. You own the Rock now. That means you own the debt. Gregor and Amory Lorch were your father's dogs. Their mess is your mess."
"My father and brother are at the Wall, Oberyn," Tyrion reminded him, looking at the children playing in the pools. "If you want a pound of flesh, go find them in the snow. My brother is a better fighter than I am, though. Way better. He'd probably enjoy the workout."
Oberyn snorted. "Don't worry. I'll see the Kingslayer's footwork for myself one day."
They stopped at a shaded pavilion. Prince Doran Martell sat in his wheelchair, watching Trystane and Myrcella play a game of Cyvasse. He looked relaxed, a small smile playing on his lips as he pointed out a move to his son.
Doran turned his head as they approached. He saw Tyrion and gave a slow, welcoming nod. "Please," the Prince of Dorne said. "Bring our guest inside. We have a world to discuss."
[Target Captured: Jorah Mormont (For Northern Justice).]
Plz Drop Some Power Stones.
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