Game of Thrones Oneshots

Ser Jorah x reader- Champion (part 2)

"We need a healer!" Jorah yelled as he charged into the room with you in his arms. Beaten and bloodied from protecting Daenerys from yet another attack. Your arm was bent in an unnatural way. Your nose streamed blood and was already blackened with a bruise. Swelling eyes fluttering as you dipped in and out of hazy consciousness.

He carefully placed you down on a straw cot, silently cursing himself for allowing you and Daenerys to walk the streets of Meereen alone. Thankfully she was untouched due to your unrelenting determination. Even as they beat you down to the ground, you still stood up and drew their attention to you before help arrived. Gladly taking hits meant for your liberator. Jorah would have swelled with pride if it weren't for your current state. And even as healers tried shooing him away to tend to your broken body, he stayed. Holding your hand and praying to the gods for you to be alright.

Hours passed. The sun replaced by the moon and the cool chill of night seeped into the candle lit room. Though an uncertain peace settled within the confines of the room and your sleeping form, the nightmares plaguing your sleep ripped into you from inside. Darkness surrounded you. The tight collar near choking you. Musky scent of stale air filling your nose. The roar of the crowd chanting to see you die.

You woke with a start, having to blink your eyes repeatedly to rid yourself of the image of the pits. Breathing in deep gulps of fresh air to remind yourself that you were free. Above ground. Able to feel the soft chilled breeze kiss your sweating and bruised face. A grumble came from your side and you saw Jorah leaning against the wall asleep. It brought a ghost of a smile to your lips. He was here. His presence making sure you did not wake up alone like you did in the tiny cell of the pits.

Throwing your blanket to the side, you slipped off the cot. Careful not to disrupt your arm that was in a wooden brace. You needed fresh air to further assure yourself. To soothe the growling beast of doubt. So you quietly pattered to the balcony that looked over the city of Meereen and took in a deep breath. Holding it for a few seconds before realising it in one drawn out and heavy breath. Alive. You were alive and free. Fought day after day with the ambition for moments like this. And now that it was reality, you couldn't help but fear waking up and finding that it was all just a dream.

"You should be in bed." A rumbling voice said from behind and you saw Jorah padding to your side as he rubbed the remnants of sleep from his eyes. Yet when he saw the distant and pained look in your eyes, he understood exactly why you couldn't go back to bed yet. So he settled against the wall separating you both from the extreme fall from the balcony, holding a gentle and comforting hand on the small of your back. Your eyes fluttered closed and you shifted closer to his body, leaning your weight against his side. Allowing his arm to circle around your waist and draw you closer to him.

You curled further into him. Resting your head against his shoulder and mumbled in a raspy voice, "you're warm."

"Then get a little closer so I can warm you up more." Jorah turned and wrapped his arms around you, careful not to agitated the sore parts of your body. His lips pressed against the top of your head. Not caring about anything accept the fact that you were in his arms alive. "What you did today was very brave."

"But I still was beaten. I went from reigning champion in the pits to an average body guard." Your sigh was warm against his chest, that was slightly exposed from the low hanging neck line of his tunic, and sent ripples of goosebumps up his arms.

Jorah pulled back slightly, lifting your chin up with a single finger and stared deep into your eyes. "You give yourself little credit. I heard you defeated three men and it took four more to take you down. Yet you got back up and fought till the very last moment. I am incredibly proud of you."

Just hearing him confess his pride sent a crackling joy through your body. The grin that graced your face, slightly dampened by the ache of a split lip, almost knocked the air out of Jorah. A bright hopeful spark lit up your eyes and you whispered, "you're proud of me?"

"Every day." He said breathlessly. The pair of you watched each other with a conviction only lovers could achieve. Over time you had come to care deeply for the man holding you and Jorah had been the same. Both unaware of the others feelings. Yet as you watched each other in silence, a natural pull formed in the space between each other. You were the first to lean in and Jorah followed. Meeting in the middle with a sweet lingering kiss that sent your hearts into a frenzy.

You pulled back but Jorah moved in again and brought more passion into the kiss. Hands clasping the sides of your face and lacing his fingers in your hair. You leaned into him. Knees buckling and body fully aware that without his support, you'd have fallen to the floor.

When you both broke the kiss, Jorah pressed his brow to yours, "please try not to get hurt again. I wouldn't be able to handle it."

"Can't make any promises." You teased and Jorah huffed in amusement. Pecking at your lips once. Twice. And once more. Unable to sate his desire to kiss you since the day he realised his feelings.

"Then it seems that I'll have to keep you close at all times." He wrapped his arms around your waist and heaved you up. Drawing out a playful yelp and chuckle out of you as you peppered kisses over your face. He grinned widely and carried you back inside.