The Birth of Dragons

Ser Jorah Mormont

Astapor burned, Jorah could picture the charred corpses of men, women and children who had gotten in the way of the former slaves and the King. He could remember the smell of it all, the feeling of tension within him, and then the feeling of relief as he'd killed one man and then another, imaging them as the men who'd taken Lynesse from him. There was much and more to like about the King, that he was the father of Dragons was just one of them, the King was not shy of voicing his feelings, of demanding when he wanted to. He was a God, a veritable God, and one Jorah would follow to the end and back. They left Astapor behind, boarded ships, around eighty of them, war galleys and merchant vessels, heading for Dragonstone, not Pentos.

They were on the flag ship, the Dragon's Tail, the King was looking at him with firm eyes, a determined look. "You have been to Dragonstone before have you not Ser Jorah?" the King asks, his sister sat on his lap.

"I have Your Grace, during the ending of the War of the Usurper." Jorah responds, trying to avoid the reasoning for why he had gone.

"What is it like?" the King asks.

"It is big, broad and monstrous. The perfect place for a landing Sire. It is the home of legend, and it is strong." Jorah responds honestly, remembering how he had shivered the first time he'd laid eyes on the place.

"And what of the man who rules the castle? This Stannis Baratheon fellow. What is he like?" the King asks.

Jorah takes a moment to think through this, he has only met Stannis Baratheon once, during the Greyjoy rebellion, and he had not found the man to be that personable. "He is grim, dark and determined. He has lived his entire life in his brother's shadow, and he resents that."

The King nods. "Does he resent being given Dragonstone instead of Storm's End?"

It is an odd question, but one Jorah knows the King shall want answered, and one does not answer the King. "Yes. When it was announced he was to be Lord of Dragonstone, he and his brother quarrelled over the matter. Indeed, it was only his devotion to duty that made him accept the post."

The King tilts his head intrigued. "And if one was to remind him of his brother's usurpation and the chance to gain Storm's End, what would Stannis Baratheon do?"

Jorah considers this question carefully, if he is right about Stannis Baratheon, the man will want nothing less than the throne, if his brother is indeed dead, and yet, perhaps, perhaps he can be made to see reason. There was the rumour he had nearly bent to Aerys, and sold his brother out, when the usurper started his little rebellion. After considering this information for some time, and aware of the growing impatience of the King, he hurriedly says. "I believe that the man would bend the knee. He has no son, therefore the land and titles could go to the crown if you so desire Sire."

Jorah sees the King smile in response to this. "That is good." The King then nuzzles his sister's hair and whispers. "Can you imagine it Dany? Rhaegal and Viserion resting in Storm's End?"

His sister laughs. "I think such a thing would be most grand."

Jorah nods, captivated by this display of affection between two people who are equivalent to Gods. He blinks when the King speaks to him once more. "Tell me some more about the Lords of the Crownlands. They were traditionally tied to the throne and the dragon were they not?"

"They were Sire." Jorah replies cautiously.

"How then, did they end up straying so far?" the King asks curiously.

"Gold and ambition Sire." Jorah responds truthfully. "The old lords who served under your father are dead, they have been replaced by boys and men who know nothing of truth or of honour. These new lords care only for their own pocket and fortune. They are no true men, not even their own mothers would support them, when faced with dragon's fire."

Somewhere, high above them, the King's own dragon growls, as if he senses the King's anger. The King nods in response. "So are they false?"

Jorah hesitates, his information on the crownlords is most likely out of date, but it would not do to admit that. And so he says truthfully, albeit hesitantly. "I believe that they can be made into honest men Sire. You need only scare them into speaking their hearts, and then you can make them see the right way."

"Would doing such a thing, not simply aggravate them further?" Princess Daenerys asks.

"Sometimes, it is necessary to make your allies feel the heat, so they are reminded of what they have to lose should they betray you." The King says, saying something that sounds eerily like what Prince Rhaegar had said to Jorah before the Trident.

"I quite agree Your Grace." Jorah says, as he had done on that day long ago, when a silver prince had spoken to him. "Without the appropriate behaviour, they will grow greedy and gluttonous, a threat to royal authority, and in no way the right people to lead."

The King nods, and then whispers something to his sister, Jorah watches as the Princess nods in agreement, kisses her brother, then gets off the King's lap and walks out of the cabin room. When they are alone in silence, the King turns to him, and says. "You have done well Ser Jorah, very well. I would know what it is you want done with your wife when we return?"

"Sire?" Jorah asks surprised. "I had thought she was in Lys."

The King grins then. "Oh she was, but the magister has friends in all the right places. She is coming with us to Westeros. What do you want done with her?"

Jorah feels his heart beat quicken. "I would speak with her if I could, Sire."

The King nods. "Of course." And with that he dismisses Jorah, leaving the knight feeling off kilter.