Fic: Distraction
Title: Distraction
Author: mrstater
Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire
Characters & Pairings: Daenerys Targaryen/Jorah Mormont, Khal Drogo, Viserys Targaryen
Word Count: 884 words
Ratings & Warnings: T
Summary: . Dany's distraction at another of Illyrio Mopatis' dinner parties nearly leads to trouble, but her newfound courage carries her through it. [Edwardian-era AU]
Author's Note: Companion to Debut and Dance, and Demonstration. For tami-taylors-hair, who made the right request in a Tumblr meme. ;)
Distraction
They were not seated together that night at dinner, but Daenerys hardly cared. Today had been the happiest in her life--she still felt as if she had wings, as she had when she marched with the Suffragettes…when Jorah kissed her--and if he were beside her, she wouldn't be able to catch his eye across the table and share secret smile.
Once, as she drank, she caught him watching her and fancied he wished her lips touched his warm yielding mouth instead of the cool glass, that she tasted his sweetness instead of the deep dry claret. And then she laughed, for realizing her thoughts very much resembled those of a young girl who'd read a deal too much. Jorah's eyebrows twitched upward, begging to be let in on the joke, and Dany hoped he read the promise in her eyes that she would tell him later, as soon as they could steal a moment alone.
"You find the conversation amusing, sister?" Viserys hissed from his corner of the table.
Dany hadn't the faintest notion of what the other guests had been talking about. Not so very long ago, she would have been mortified to be publically rebuked by her brother at a dinner party--and fearful of what he would do to her afterward--but tonight she carried with her the thrill of marching, rank on rank, with her sisters, against the line of policemen, and she wondered how she ever could have been afraid of this pathetic creature who clung to the coattails of powerful men.
"It is a little amusing," said the gentleman at Dany's side, Colonel Drogo, Mr Mopatis' guest of honor. "Women wanting to vote is…quaint." The guests chuckled politely, some murmuring their agreement, and the Colonel smirked as he sipped his claret. But as he lowered his glass, Dany noticed out the corner of her eye how his long, swarthy fingers tightened around the delicate crystal. "They should all be horsewhipped."
"I'll drink to that," Viserys said, his violet eyes on Dany as he drank. "Mormont--you've Suffragist relations, haven't you? I do hope you're keeping them in line."
Dany's gaze snapped to Jorah in alarm--Had Viserys somehow discovered how Alysane chaperoned them today? No, he must know about Lyanna's attack on Prime Minister Asquith from the papers.--but he remained cool.
"I thought that was why we paid taxes to employ a police force."
Jorah's jest was met with more well-mannered laughter, and no more was said on the subject, at least not in Dany's hearing, for at that point the ladies walked through to the drawing room to leave the men to their port and cigars. As was his habit, Jorah was the first of the gentlemen to join the ladies, and he found Dany on the terrace, where she had slipped outside when her other four companions sat down to bridge.
To her extreme pleasure, Jorah did not pause to make conversation, but as soon as he had shut the door strode directly to where she stood at the ledge, cupped her cheek in his big hand, the other settling at the small of her back, and drew her in for a kiss. She responded in kind, parting her lips to the soft glide of his; at the suggestion of his tongue her fingers curled around his hand on her face, then brushed over the stubble of beard as it thinned out along his cheekbone.
"I've been waiting all evening to do that," he murmured, pressing a last gentle kiss to her lips--then one more--and still another--as he drew back, moving to stand almost properly--but not quite, his fingers twining together with hers--beside her at the railing.
"I could tell," she replied, smiling at her correct guess about his thoughts as he'd watched her drink her wine.
"It was the most tedious dinner I've attended in some time."
"Mmm. And that Drogo chap is exactly the sort of man we marched against today."
She had spoken lightly, but Jorah only grunted in agreement, his hold on her hand tightening, which made her look sharply up at him. The lines of his face deepened with his frown.
"Jorah--whatever is the matter?"
For a moment she thought he would not speak his mind, to protect her from whatever it was that was troubling him, but then he said, in his usual blunt way, "I'm afraid that Drogo chap is also exactly the sort of man your brother regards as a suitable match for you."
Denerys thought of Colonel Drogo's hand clutching his caret--she could not believe he didn't break it; if he had, she doubted very much he would be much troubled by shards of glass--and of how his voice had sounded when he talked of horsewhipping Suffragettes, low, guttural almost.
"You will never let that happen," she said. She stepped nearer to Jorah, imagining she might shudder with fear and he would put his arm about her.
Neither occurred.
Instead, Jorah studied their joined hands--hers clutching his the tighter, she reassuring him--and she studied his face, the troubled lines smoothing as her own heart beat steadily.
"No," he said, and met her eye, giving her the secret smile. "You will never let that happen."
Author: mrstater
Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire
Characters & Pairings: Daenerys Targaryen/Jorah Mormont, Khal Drogo, Viserys Targaryen
Word Count: 884 words
Ratings & Warnings: T
Summary: . Dany's distraction at another of Illyrio Mopatis' dinner parties nearly leads to trouble, but her newfound courage carries her through it. [Edwardian-era AU]
Author's Note: Companion to Debut and Dance, and Demonstration. For tami-taylors-hair, who made the right request in a Tumblr meme. ;)
Distraction
They were not seated together that night at dinner, but Daenerys hardly cared. Today had been the happiest in her life--she still felt as if she had wings, as she had when she marched with the Suffragettes…when Jorah kissed her--and if he were beside her, she wouldn't be able to catch his eye across the table and share secret smile.
Once, as she drank, she caught him watching her and fancied he wished her lips touched his warm yielding mouth instead of the cool glass, that she tasted his sweetness instead of the deep dry claret. And then she laughed, for realizing her thoughts very much resembled those of a young girl who'd read a deal too much. Jorah's eyebrows twitched upward, begging to be let in on the joke, and Dany hoped he read the promise in her eyes that she would tell him later, as soon as they could steal a moment alone.
"You find the conversation amusing, sister?" Viserys hissed from his corner of the table.
Dany hadn't the faintest notion of what the other guests had been talking about. Not so very long ago, she would have been mortified to be publically rebuked by her brother at a dinner party--and fearful of what he would do to her afterward--but tonight she carried with her the thrill of marching, rank on rank, with her sisters, against the line of policemen, and she wondered how she ever could have been afraid of this pathetic creature who clung to the coattails of powerful men.
"It is a little amusing," said the gentleman at Dany's side, Colonel Drogo, Mr Mopatis' guest of honor. "Women wanting to vote is…quaint." The guests chuckled politely, some murmuring their agreement, and the Colonel smirked as he sipped his claret. But as he lowered his glass, Dany noticed out the corner of her eye how his long, swarthy fingers tightened around the delicate crystal. "They should all be horsewhipped."
"I'll drink to that," Viserys said, his violet eyes on Dany as he drank. "Mormont--you've Suffragist relations, haven't you? I do hope you're keeping them in line."
Dany's gaze snapped to Jorah in alarm--Had Viserys somehow discovered how Alysane chaperoned them today? No, he must know about Lyanna's attack on Prime Minister Asquith from the papers.--but he remained cool.
"I thought that was why we paid taxes to employ a police force."
Jorah's jest was met with more well-mannered laughter, and no more was said on the subject, at least not in Dany's hearing, for at that point the ladies walked through to the drawing room to leave the men to their port and cigars. As was his habit, Jorah was the first of the gentlemen to join the ladies, and he found Dany on the terrace, where she had slipped outside when her other four companions sat down to bridge.
To her extreme pleasure, Jorah did not pause to make conversation, but as soon as he had shut the door strode directly to where she stood at the ledge, cupped her cheek in his big hand, the other settling at the small of her back, and drew her in for a kiss. She responded in kind, parting her lips to the soft glide of his; at the suggestion of his tongue her fingers curled around his hand on her face, then brushed over the stubble of beard as it thinned out along his cheekbone.
"I've been waiting all evening to do that," he murmured, pressing a last gentle kiss to her lips--then one more--and still another--as he drew back, moving to stand almost properly--but not quite, his fingers twining together with hers--beside her at the railing.
"I could tell," she replied, smiling at her correct guess about his thoughts as he'd watched her drink her wine.
"It was the most tedious dinner I've attended in some time."
"Mmm. And that Drogo chap is exactly the sort of man we marched against today."
She had spoken lightly, but Jorah only grunted in agreement, his hold on her hand tightening, which made her look sharply up at him. The lines of his face deepened with his frown.
"Jorah--whatever is the matter?"
For a moment she thought he would not speak his mind, to protect her from whatever it was that was troubling him, but then he said, in his usual blunt way, "I'm afraid that Drogo chap is also exactly the sort of man your brother regards as a suitable match for you."
Denerys thought of Colonel Drogo's hand clutching his caret--she could not believe he didn't break it; if he had, she doubted very much he would be much troubled by shards of glass--and of how his voice had sounded when he talked of horsewhipping Suffragettes, low, guttural almost.
"You will never let that happen," she said. She stepped nearer to Jorah, imagining she might shudder with fear and he would put his arm about her.
Neither occurred.
Instead, Jorah studied their joined hands--hers clutching his the tighter, she reassuring him--and she studied his face, the troubled lines smoothing as her own heart beat steadily.
"No," he said, and met her eye, giving her the secret smile. "You will never let that happen."