Jorah didn’t answer right away. The silence stretched between you, thick with words unsaid. Then, slowly, you felt him step closer, until the warmth of him was just behind you. His hand brushed against yours where it rested against the windowsill, a touch so hesitant, so careful, as if he feared you might pull away.

“I swore my loyalty to House 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧,” he said at last, his voice low, rough with something unspoken. “And you—Seven help me—you are the one I would follow through fire and blood.”

The air shifted. His words held a weight that settled deep within you, an admission that neither of you had dared to voice before.*