Jonerys

Proposal

PART 1

The fire flickers in the corner of my eye as Missandei finishes tending to my overcoat, straightening it before my guest arrives. We have known each other a long time, and shared many truths. But it is the unease of her thoughts now which bothers me. I reach out and take her hand in mine, offering the only comfort I can, 'He will return soon, I promise'. A gentle blush creeps to her cheeks as she smiles slightly, looking downward. I don't use his name in case the servants or gossiping chambermaids should overhear. But we both know of whom I speak.
'I hope so,' she says, as optimism brightens her eyes again. 'I miss him'.

Before I can enquire further, a knock comes at my door. My guest has arrived earlier than I expected, but it does not feel like an intrusion on my time.

'Lord Snow has arrived, your Grace' Jorah announces plainly as he leads Jon Snow into my solar. The two northmen share an unusual history, entwined by folly. Jorah, for his crimes, was banished from the North by Jon Snow's father. Jon Snow, in turn, served as Joer Mormont's steward during his time at the Wall and was by all accounts, much respected by the remaining Mormont clans. I wonder for a second if that is the reason the two men exchange strange glances between them. Glances which convey both threat and respect and perhaps something deeper, too.

Jorah's eyes follow Jon into the room with a weight I cannot decipher. I've become accustomed to the fact that Northern men are difficult to read, and that whatever is between them is something I may never understand.
'Thank you, Ser Jorah. Please, come in Lord Snow...'

Jon naturally looks about the room, perhaps to test its security. Perhaps a soldier's habit, or one he has been forced to learn as a survivor of this war of false kings. He has arrived alone, as I requested.

'Missandei, Ser Jorah, will you leave us to treat?'

'Yes, Your Grace. I'll wait outside should you need anything.' I want to rebut Jorah's offer, but it would be no use. He would follow me anywhere if I commanded it, and even if I didn't. The same look reignites across his face as he nods silently to Jon before leaving the room, Missandei following closely behind.

'You requested to see me, Your Grace?' Jon asks with a mild curiosity.

'Yes, I did. Are you hungry? I had the kitchen hand prepare a pheasant and butter greens. I thought having a taste of your northern foods might bring you a sense of home while you're away.'

'That is kind of you, thank you.' Jon replies, his curiosity growing as he surveys the table laid with food for us both with a measure of confusion and unease. He looks nervous for the first time that I've seen, and for some reason that brightens my eyes with amusement.

'Please, sit with me?' I ask as he hesitantly moves closer to his seat at my table. 'Don't worry. I won't bite....' I jest, trying to ease his mind. He sits in his place as I study him. Despite his rugged appearance from a hard days labour mining dragon glass in the caves below the castle, he appears somehow natural in this setting, reaching for cloth to place over his lap instantly as a servant girl pours us wine. I can tell he took well to the lessons of deportment like other nobleman's children, despite being raised an outsider. He waits in silence for me to taste the wine before he begins to sip.

'How are you faring in the caves, Lord Snow? Have you enough dragonglass for your stores?' He reaches a tentative hand to his fork and looks to me.

'We should be finished within the month, Your Grace. Then we will begin the rehabilitation work on the caves entrance prior to our departure to Winterfell.'

An unease moves between us. For he had all but secured the resources he came for, but not the military alliance he'd hoped could be brokered between us. I try to keep our meal conversation light, pleasant, so I divert to simpler topic.
'And your quarters, are they comfortable and to your liking?'