Chapter 1: Casting Call
Daenerys Targaryen slipped out of a cab and ran across the empty side street to where her agent and best friend, Missy, was waiting for her at a table outside of a café.
“You’re late…” Missy chided, pushing a flat white towards Daenerys as the young blonde shrugged off her coat and draped it over the back of the wire chair.
“I’m sorry…” Dany apologized, “You know how ridiculous it is to get through Piccadilly Circus at this hour”.
Missy shook her head. No matter the validity of the excuse, Daenerys was always a bit late to everything. It was both endearing and annoying. “I’ve got something big for you”.
Dany looked over at her best friend, with her flawless skin and gorgeous tight curls, fanning out naturally like a halo in the morning light. They had met at Uni, both majoring in theatre. After a few plays, Missy realized acting wasn’t for her and switched to business. Since they were inseparable, they decided to combine what they were good at and work together.
In the past two years since graduation, Missy had landed Daenerys roles in a few daytime British soaps. Small parts, and she certainly wasn’t recognizable enough to be called out on the street, but they were making some money.
“What is it?”
Missy pushed a clipped stack of papers towards her, “It’s a play…”
Shaking her head, Dany pushed it back, “You and I both know you don’t do theatre until you have a settled acting career. At least a B-list movie under your belt. I’ve only just started to break into television”.
“Dany, did you look at it? I had the man who is going to direct it at the Donmar in Covent Garden call me specifically asking for you to read it”.
Daenerys pulled the play back and ran her hand over the title page. The Blue Room. “I’ve heard of this…why does this seem so familiar?”
“We studied David Hare at Uni – he wrote this as an adaptation of Der Reigen by Arthur Schnitzler. It’s one of Hare’s lesser known works but it’s what catapulted Nicole Kidman to super-stardom in 1998. It hasn’t been performed in London since. And Tyrion Lannister is directing it. You know his brother is an agent for all of the top actors in Britain and Tyrion told me his brother is shopping it around right now. You could be in a play with bloody Idris Elba!” Missy was practically shrieking in excitement and a few older ladies enjoying their cuppas turned around to glare at them.
Daenerys sat back in her chair, overwhelmed with information. Now that Missy brought it up, she remembered briefly glancing over the play back then. It was scandalous – two actors, ten simulated sex scenes. But it did do wonders for Nicole Kidman’s career and cemented her in the collective psyche as both sexy and a serious actress.
“Why me?” Dany asked.
“Tyrion said he saw you in the sci-fi part you had last a few months ago in Dragon’s Lair and knew he wanted you. They want someone relatively unknown to pair with a more established actor for the other part”.
Both girls looked at each other and broke into big grins.
“You know you are going to have to be partially naked in most of it…and kiss some most likely really hot guy and pretend to have sex with him, right? Just making that clear…” Missy bit her lip.
“Drogo is going to hate this”.
“Your boyfriend is the most confident, secure man I have ever met. It’s just a play”.
“Then call Mr. Lannister and tell him I’m in,” Daenerys took a sip of her coffee and started to thumb through the play, her heart fluttering at the new opportunity.
“Jorah Mormont, how the hell have you been?” Jaime Lannister threw his arms open as he walked towards the man entering his spacious office, “That gladiator movie you were just in pulled in what…65 mil opening weekend? Not bad!”
“Thanks to you…” Jorah said gratefully, embracing his agent before they moved towards the desk to talk business.
“I have a proposal for you. It’s a break from the big movies you have been doing, but…” Jaime took out the play from his desk. He had floated the idea to some of the other leading British men he represented, but both Idris Elba and Daniel Craig had turned it down because of scheduling conflicts. And, he guessed, because of the full-frontal nudity.
“The Blue Room. Wasn’t that the play with Nicole Kidman and Iain Glen?” Jorah asked. He had only been 18 when it was running in the West End, but he studied it at drama school for a brief moment. It was an odd little play, based on different sexual couplings and the power and emotional dynamics within each one.
“The very same,” Jaime said, wanting to broach it slowly, unsure of Jorah’s initial read on it, “And look at Iain now. He was right where you are now career-wise back then. Coming into his own, a few big films under his belt. Then he did this to really showcase his acting chops. And now he’s practically the new fucking Sean Connery”.
Jorah made a non-committal noise as he ran his hand through his gingery blonde hair, “I’m listening…”
“My brother is directing it, and you know everything he touches is successful nowadays. 15 shows. London only. With you starring in it, ticket prices will be ludicrous, and I can promise you fifty thousand pounds for the run of it”.
Jorah’s eyes darted to Jaime, “You know that’s not nearly enough.”
“It’s a play, Jorah. I know you are getting used to the film money, but as your agent, who wants to see you succeed, you need to take a different type of project. You’ll get critical reviews. I’m sure you’ll get nominated for an Oliver Award. If you keep doing action movies, you will get typecast.” Jaime was proud of Jorah’s career, but wanted to push him. He wasn’t London’s best agent for no reason.
Jorah looked down at his lap and sheepishly admitted again that it wasn’t enough.
“Lynesse already spent your last paycheck, didn’t she?” Jaime didn’t mean it to come out so judgmental, but from the glare that Jorah shot him, it clearly did. “Sorry…I, I’ll talk to my brother and I’ll see if we can offer you more. But please…give this a shot. It is a month of shows and a little more for rehearsal”.
Jorah couldn’t help but color that his friend and agent had seen through him so quickly. His wife liked to live above their already high means and now he knew this was no secret to everyone close to him.
But the lack of money wasn’t going to be the only thing his wife didn’t like about this.
“Is your brother keeping all of the male nudity in it?” Jorah asked.
“He’s planning to.” Jaime eyes Jorah carefully. He could see the actor was just on the verge of agreeing.
“Well…fuck it. Sure,” Jorah laughed, and Jaime crossed his arms, leaning back in his desk chair with a satisfied smirk on his handsome face. “Do you have the actress cast?”
“Tyrion reached out to her agent and we are just waiting to hear back. I’ll give you a call when everything is settled, and we can get started with rehearsals. It’s going to move fast – Tyrion wants this opening the first weekend of November”.
“Then I’ll wait for your call”.
Chapter 2: The Meeting
Thanks for reading! This is a nice, long chapter and I hope you all enjoy Jorah and Daenerys meeting for the first time!
“Please Missy, please tell me who it is!”
Daenerys rarely got nervous. She left the nerves for her best friend, but as the pair of them were in the back of a cab, driving to a meeting with the director of the play and her co-star and his agent, she was fidgeting uncontrollably.
Missy knew who her co-star was, as did the other agent, but per the director’s request, he wanted both actors to go into it blind. Tyrion Lannister was an incredible director, but he was also very particular. And he had made it absolutely clear that he needed to see the initial ‘chemistry’ between the two of them to know if this would work.
“I can’t. You know I can’t. But please, when we get there, just be calm. Don’t act like a starstruck teenager and blow this for yourself” Missy sighed. When she had found out that Jorah Mormont would be Daenerys’ counterpart in the play, she had almost fainted. She expected a similar reaction out of her best friend.
“Please tell me it’s Daniel Craig…” Daenerys whined.
“It’s not bloody Daniel Craig. It’s better. Look, we are almost there…” Missy put her hand on her friends’ leg, trying to stop her from shaking it as they pulled around the corner and stopped at the entrance to Covent Garden, already bustling with tourists on a Tuesday morning. “Be chill.” Missy hissed and paid the cabbie before both women stepped out. She checked her watch – right on time.
Per Tyrion’s directions, they were to enter through the stage door of the Donmar, which was unlocked for them. Missy held Daenerys’ hand as they walked through the backstage area, climbed the steps to the stage and were greeted with the sight of three men sitting around a table on the lit stage – Tyrion Lannister, his brother Jaime, and Jorah Mormont.
“Fucking hell…” Daenerys whispered to her friend who yanked her into the light. This was big for both of them and Missy didn’t want Dany to falter.
“Ah…our little starlet, come…” Tyrion stood up and as he did, his head only came to about a foot above the table, but his presence filled the entirety of the empty theater. He took Dany’s other hand and finished leading her to the table, making introductions.
“Jaime, Jorah, this is Daenerys Targaryen.” Tyrion beamed as he looked from the young actress to the men. Jaime reached out his hand first.
“Jaime Lannister, Tyrion’s brother and Jorah’s agent. Pleasure.” Daenerys shook his hand firmly. She knew exactly who he was. Everyone in the industry around London did. But she had never met him in person, and he was as handsome and charismatic as they came.
“You have a beautiful name, Daenerys. It’s a shame I’ve never heard it before today,” Jorah jumped in, looking her in the eye as he shook her hand. Dany tried not to let herself get flustered, but it was an entirely lost cause.
“It’s no worries…I haven’t been in anything notable…” she blushed, suddenly embarrassed of her work in front of him. The blush started to creep down her neck.
“Nonsense, you are a fantastic actress. I’ve never been wrong about that before.” Tyrion corrected her, “But of course you’ve heard of our Jorah.”
“I just went and saw The Fighting Pits a few weekends ago. You were really…” Daenerys suddenly found herself, for once in her life, at a loss for words when it came to his recent gladiator movie. She was always chatty and comfortable in any crowd, but she had simply lost her train of thought as she looked at him sitting in front of her, calm and collected with a crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the top and his incredible blue eyes. He looked every bit the movie star.
“Thank you,” Jorah helped her out and gave her a smile as she sat down in one of the empty seats and Missy took the other.
“Now that the big reveal is over, let’s get down to business, shall we?” Tyrion smiled as he glanced from Daenerys to Jorah, who were both still looking at one another. He could practically see the ‘sold out’ marquis in lights – this was absolutely the chemistry he was looking for.
As Tyrion rattled on about rehearsal schedules and performance dates and his overall ‘vision’, which Missy, Daenerys, and Jaime were all raptly listening to, Jorah found himself distracted.
He had agreed to the play after his meeting with Jaime, but once he told his wife, she threw a fit and hadn’t spoken to him for days. It had made him seriously reconsider until Tyrion personally called him and talked him back into it, with a generous pay increase.
And now he was sitting across from his scene partner – the woman who would carry the entire weight of this play with him – and he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She was so uniquely beautiful but held herself as if she had no idea how gorgeous she really was. He had never seen a woman like her in his life. Her platinum hair, so bright it was almost silver, fell in waves down her shoulders. She had a light smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and her otherwise creamy skin. And her eyes – her irises azure fading to violet. Someone else might think that her hair was colored, and her eyes were merely contacts, but it didn’t strike him as that. This was who she was and it was breathtaking.
Jorah guessed she was in her mid-twenties and found it hard not to let his eyes dip lower than her neck, but he failed on several occasions. She had curves that were putting thoughts in his mind that shouldn’t be there.
He had never felt this way about someone he worked with before - and he had worked with a score of beautiful women. It took him by surprise and he almost thought about pulling Jaime aside and backing out of the project entirely. He was a married man and if just sitting across from her was making him anxious, he couldn’t imagine being on stage naked with her.
He was going to utterly embarrass himself.
“Jorah?” Tyrion pulled him out of his thoughts, “Does starting rehearsal tomorrow work for you?”
He looked around the table and all eyes were on him, including Daenerys’ pretty violet ones.
“Er…yeah, should be good.” He nodded, wondering how much of the conversation he had missed while mentally undressing the woman he had met naught but fifteen minutes ago. What was wrong with him?
“That’s settled then. I’ll see you two here at nine in the morning tomorrow. We will have the photoshoot for promotional materials and then start on scene one. Missy and Jaime, you have the contracts and paper work and everyone is happy, right?” Tyrion asked and was returned with the affirmative.
As everyone stood up from the table and gathered their things, he saw Daenerys trying to catch his eye and he lingered. He watched as she whispered something to her agent and gave her a hug. Jaime clapped him on the back and told him he’d call to follow up with more details. When Daenerys shyly approached him, he nervously stuck his hands in his pockets.
“I know you probably have plans this afternoon, but I was wondering if I could buy you a pint and we could just get to know one another?” she asked and he blinked back at her, unsure of what to say, which prompted her to try and explain herself, “It’s just…this is a really intense play and I don’t think we should jump into rehearsal tomorrow as complete strangers”.
“That is an excellent idea…” Tyrion sidled up to the two of them, clapping his hands together after eavesdropping, “Daenerys is right. You can’t both portray lovers if you haven’t even had a proper conversation”.
Jorah couldn’t say no. Nor did he want to. The thought of spending the rest of the afternoon with Daenerys both terrified and excited him and with Tyrion prodding him to say something, he finally nodded. The smile on Daenerys’ face was worth the awkward lie he was going to have to make up to his wife for why he wouldn’t be coming right home.
Daenerys pinched the skin on her thigh. Hard.
It hurt, which meant that she really was sitting in a dark corner booth of a pub in Soho with Jorah Mormont.
But no matter how many times she had to assure herself that this was reality, she still found it hard to believe. When she had walked onto the stage and saw him sitting there, her mind went blank and her stomach did backflips. He was incredibly famous – a household name – and he was even more attractive in person than on screen.
She had seen every one of his movies and when they sat down to talk, she just hoped that he wouldn’t be a jerk and that her built-up image of him wouldn’t be shattered. She was relieved that he was perfectly lovely and kind.
And now, as she watched him drink his beer, her heart was pounding erratically in her chest. She recognized the feeling instantly – she was deeply physically attracted to him.
Who wouldn’t be? She reminded herself of the fact that many a woman in Britain and across the world had eyes and could also see how handsome he was. She would need to reign in her little crush if she was going to work with him.
“So, Daenerys…” Jorah started. The way he said her name made her stop breathing for a moment, “Did you read all of the play?”
“Not all of it. I didn’t want to get my hopes up if I ended up not being what Tyrion wanted” she admitted.
Jorah understood that. There had been a chance of that if they didn’t get on with one another. But so far, so good. “I haven’t finished it myself yet, but you know the gist?”
“I know the gist,” Daenerys repeated, taking a sip of her beer to hide the blush once again creeping up her cheeks.
“We each have to play five very different people in ten very different scenes and we will need to be physically different with one another in each,” Jorah dove right in, as if he had been thinking about it, “We are going to need to open up to one another quickly”.
“You can ask me anything, Jorah. I’m an open book,” Daenerys promised but she could sense his nerves. She was uneasy as well – not with him, but rather the speed that this needed to be carried out to meet Tyrion’s ambitious timeline. On top of that, this wasn’t an easy play to perform. She felt in over her head. She didn’t have near as much experience as he did.
“Do you have a boyfriend? Or a husband?” Jorah had been curious, and it seemed relevant enough to bring up now. She wasn’t wearing a ring, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. He took his off when working.
“Boyfriend,” Daenerys answered.
“Tell me about him,” Jorah pressed, and she went silent, finishing off her beer.
“Is that necessary?”
“Daenerys, we are going to need to sell intimacy to hundreds of people each night. I want this to be good for your career in the same way I want it to be good for mine. And intimacy starts with honesty and knowing one another. I need to know you…”
“Then I am going to need a hell of a lot more alcohol,” Daenerys called over the waitress and ordered them whiskey with Jorah chiming in to ‘keep it coming’ whenever their glasses emptied.
Daenerys felt odd telling him about Drogo. Part of her wished she could just say she was single and move on and act as if Drogo never existed. She usually enjoyed talking about him and showing off their relationship, but now she was being quiet about it. It took her half of her whiskey before she started talking.
“His name is Drogo. He’s a midfielder for Arsenal,” Daenerys bit her lip and Jorah raised an eyebrow. Clearly he was a fan of the team.
“That’s your boyfriend?”
“You’ll get me an autograph I hope?” Jorah teased and she started to relax as the alcohol hit her stomach, “And how long have you been together?”
“Six months,” she replied after taking a moment to think back to the day they started being exclusive, “How long have you and your wife been together?”
Jorah realized he shouldn’t have been surprised that she knew he had a wife. He took her to every movie premiere, and they were always photographed together, not to mention she was also an actress, “Five years”.
“She’s very pretty,” Daenerys said. She didn’t know why but she felt as if she should pay the woman a compliment, considering she probably wasn’t thrilled about this whole arrangement. Drogo certainly wasn’t. Lynesse Hightower kept her maiden name as an actress and Daenerys couldn’t deny she was stunning, even if she wasn’t nearly as famous as he and if she had to admit it, not nearly as great of an actor.
“Thank you,” Jorah averted his eyes and focused on his drink, taking the last sip and pushing it to the edge of the table for a refill.
The afternoon bled into the evening and Daenerys and Jorah were still sitting in the back of the pub, but they were far from sober at this point.
Jorah had silenced his phone after he had texted Lynesse, lying and saying that he and Jaime were going to get a few drinks. He was a loyal man and he never lied to his wife. He knew he could have easily told her the truth, that he was just trying to get to know his co-star more, but knew that she would be jealous.
But if he was being honest with himself, lying to her was more for him than protecting his wife’s feelings. He wanted this time with Daenerys and he didn’t want anyone to know about it who didn’t need to. He knew that wasn’t fair to his wife and he felt guilty that he didn’t care.
The more alcohol that they consumed, the more they opened up to one another. He found himself slightly jealous over Daenerys’ boyfriend, even if he had no right to be. Drogo was the complete opposite of him – athletic, heavily muscled, tanned, and cocky. However, Jorah found it amusing that in a way, he and Daenerys’ relationships were very similar, if reversed.
He was the more famous one in his marriage, but Lynesse was vain and proud and loved being the center of attention. Drogo, per Daenerys’ description, seemed to have similar traits, but he was the star of their pairing.
He listened as Daenerys got more drunk and started to talk about the pitfalls of her relationship. But they were still young and it was still new.
Jorah was prying her for information under the guise of wanting to know how she was in a relationship so that they could bring that into her characters. She opened up and he didn’t return the favor.
He knew he should be giving her the same courtesy, being vulnerable and expressing his fears and doubts and triumphs. But doing so would mean actually vocalizing what he had been feeling for a long time, that things simply weren’t working with Lynesse.
She was greedy and volatile and dramatic. He found himself aching to tell Daenerys this, but couldn’t.
He refrained because he wondered if the alcohol and sitting across from a gorgeous woman was clouding his vision. Would he feel this way if upon meeting Daenerys he hadn’t felt as if lightning had struck him? If talking to her for these hours didn’t feel like he was getting drunk on her and not the whiskey?
“Oh…it’s late…I’m so sorry that I took up your entire afternoon and then some,” Daenerys apologized when she glanced at her phone. It snapped them both out of their little bubble and back into reality.
“I’m glad we did this, really. It’s not a problem,” Jorah promised her, and she reached for her purse to pay for the tab, but he beat her to it, handing his card to the waitress as she came by. “How are you getting home?”
“I’ll take the tube”.
“You will not,” he shook his head. He didn’t want her tipsy and alone. “I’ll get you a cab”.
“It’s a long way back to my flat,” Daenerys ventured. He picked up instantly that it was her way of saying the ride would be expensive. He felt silly for forgetting she probably wasn’t making much money.
“It’s on me, c’mon…” Jorah helped her out of the booth, and they walked outside into the twilight. People were just getting off of work and crisscrossing the streets as they did their shopping before heading home. He walked with her to the edge of the sidewalk and held out his hand.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Daenerys smiled at him as the cab pulled up and he opened the door for her. He handed the cabbie a fifty and told him to take her wherever she needed and to keep the change.
“See you tomorrow,” Jorah tapped the side of the cab and it took off.
He was already counting the minutes until he would see her again.
Chapter 3: Photoshoot
Once again, thanks for reading this crazy little story! I appreciate all of you! This chapter is told from various different perspectives, which I hope you enjoy.
“Babe…babe wake up…” Drogo jostled Daenerys’ arm as he sat down on the bed to put on his socks and shoes early the next morning before heading to practice. She groaned and opened her eyes.
“Got a little fucked up last night with Missy? When I came home you were passed out…” Drogo laughed. It quickly came back to Daenerys – the lovely memory of yesterday and drinking with Jorah. She also remembered the lie she texted to her boyfriend, unsure of why she did it.
“Must have. I guess I was just excited about the contract being signed for the play,” Daenerys sat up in their bed, pushing her hair out of her face. Drogo grinned and kissed her.
“Proud of you babe. Did you find out who your co-star is?”
Daenerys hoped she wasn’t blushing. When she had told Drogo about the opportunity initially, he wasn’t thrilled about her having to kiss another guy let alone be half-naked on stage with one. “Yeah, it’s Jorah Mormont.”
“Dude!” Drogo smiled, “That guy is bad-ass. That gladiator movie we saw was the shit. And he’s fucking old, so it’s cool.”
“He’s 39…I hardly think that’s old…”
“It’s fucking ancient, babe. I was worried it was going to be like, Richard Madden or someone. Glad I don’t have to worry about that...just get me an autograph, alright?” Drogo finished lacing up his shoes and winked at her before standing up, “Rehearsal starts today?”
“Yeah…” Daenerys said sleepily.
“Then break a leg, see you tonight.” He dropped a kiss on her head before grabbing his duffel and leaving. She fell back onto the bed, partially happy that her boyfriend didn’t feel threatened by all of this, and partially guilty because she knew that he should be, given how she hadn’t stopped thinking about Jorah since he put her in a cab and said goodbye.
“How is Jaime?”
“Jaime? You had drinks with him last night? How is he?” Lynesse asked coolly as she sat down across the table from her husband with a mug of coffee. She was still in her robe and he was dressed for the day, finishing his toast and reading the paper.
“Right,” Jorah remembered his cover, mentally cursing himself for not being more on the ball. He could tell by the way Lynesse was eyeing him that she wasn’t happy, “He’s fine. We just watched the game and had a few pints”.
“You got home so late we didn’t have a chance to talk and now you are running off again,” Lynesse pouted as she saw him check his watch. He needed to head out if he was going to make it to the theater on time.
“I know it isn’t ideal, but it’s going to be a pretty hectic few weeks with rehearsals.” Jorah felt guilty. After sending Daenerys home, he walked around the city for a while, gathering his thoughts and trying to shake the crush on his new co-star that was threatening to take hold of him. He knew he had to tread carefully with Lynesse, as she looked on the verge of another tantrum, “But Jaime got me a bigger cut. Anything you want, treat yourself to it, okay?”
Retail therapy always seemed to put her in a better mood – for a while at least. He exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when she smiled at his permission to spend.
“So…who is the girl in the play with you, anyone I know?” Lynesse rested her chin on her open palm, looking over at her husband. She phrased it casually but he knew she was still jealous.
“Most likely not. She’s only been in a few small things. Her name is Daenerys Targaryen.” Jorah figured there was no point in keeping it from her. She would find out within days regardless. He could see his wife’s brain ticking along, all of her insecurities laid bare in her eyes.
“Is she pretty?”
“Lynesse…” Jorah sighed.
“She’s not you.” Jorah said, standing up from the table and folding the paper. He bent down to give her a kiss on the cheek. He hadn’t lied. Daenerys certainly wasn’t his wife, and for that he was thankful.
Tyrion crossed his arms as he directed the photographer as to where he needed to set up his lights for the photoshoot. The small crew of the Donmar was arriving as well, those few in charge of wardrobe and set dressing and makeup and lighting. His vision for this re-telling of ‘The Blue Room’ was going more smoothly than he ever would have imagined – in no small part thanks to his incredible stars.
He was giddy over their chemistry. He saw it instantly the second the two of them laid eyes on one another and that was exactly what he needed. He wanted this play to not only be smart and well-acted, but he also wanted it to be a lust-filled inferno. Sex sells and he was going to take this little venture all the way to the bank and awards season.
Tyrion and Jaime also had a side bet going of how long it would take for Jorah and Daenerys to actually fuck one another. It would be another little sum he would gladly take, but all he really wanted was for the two of them to make him look good.
“Good morning Jorah!” Tyrion boomed and spread his arms theatrically as his star walked into the theater. For being so short in stature, Tyrion overcompensated with larger than life gestures, an abundance of curls on his head, and quirky clothing in mis-matched patterns.
He chatted with Jorah as he walked him to his dressing room, a rather small, but clean space with his name on the door, right across the hallways from the room marked for Daenerys. Once Jorah was settled and being fussed over by wardrobe, Tyrion saw Daenerys enter the theater, shyly looking around.
The Donmar was quite a sight when empty – just small enough to be touted as intimate, and large enough to have a mezzanine. It had a few large, crystal chandeliers adding to the ambience, and lush cranberry velvet curtains that complemented the Victorian style décor.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” Tyrion prompted as he snuck up on Daenerys. She turned and smiled when she saw who it was.
“It’s gorgeous. I didn’t really get a good look at it yesterday.”
“Because you were too busy looking at Jorah?”
Daenerys blushed and said nothing more. Tyrion clapped his hands together, “The photoshoot for the playbill will be first. Jorah is already in wardrobe so let’s get you in the makeup chair – not that you need it, love, of course, but the cameras…” Tyrion rattled on as he led her to her dressing room. He enjoyed the thrill she got from seeing her name on the door and he set her up inside, the makeup artist quickly joining, and he explained his idea for the shoot.
He wanted them both looking very natural, with very little makeup for her. And they were to be naked. At least from the waist up.
“Naked?” Daenerys swallowed as the makeup artist started to dust her with powder.
“Missy agreed with me on nipples. Nothing else. But she did agree on nipples.” Tyrion reminded his little protégé. The girl didn’t seem to realize what her agent had gotten her into based on her slack-jawed expression. “But not to worry…your nipples won’t be plastered all over the subway. That is for the performance only. We’ll get you those little pasty things for the shoot.”
Daenerys walked out of her dressing room, looking ready for the photoshoot but feeling as if she wanted to call the entire thing off. Yesterday it had been fun to fully win the part and meet Jorah, but now she had to actually go through with it. She hadn’t even seen her co-star yet and already her stomach was flipping so wildly she was surprised she hadn’t heaved up her breakfast.
She waited in the standard issue acting chair, embroidered with her name on the back, for Jorah to finish getting ready. All around her, people were buzzing around and the excitement of the photoshoot and for a new project in the theater was apparent. Near the stage, Tyrion and the photographer were clearly talking out some creative differences.
Underneath her robe, Daenerys had on a pair of low-slung, black leggings and nothing else. Tyrion had made good on his promise to find her nipple-covers, which were simply just nude pieces of silicone that the makeup artist had attached to her areolas. They certainly didn’t help her feel less vulnerable. And they felt ridiculous.
She saw Jorah before he saw her. He came out of his dressing room with just a pair of dark-washed jeans on. Since she was sitting near the left side of the stage, opposite from where he was coming from, she was able to take a long look at him rather discreetly and have a few seconds to compose herself.
Seeing him again made her heart stop for just a moment and the sight of his chest, broad and lightly dusted with golden hair trailing all the way down his torso and disappearing under the waistband of his jeans. She had seen him shirtless in a few movies but this…this was much different.
“Daenerys!” Tyrion called out for her, beckoning her on stage. She carefully walked up the side stairs to join her Director, the photographer, and Jorah in the bright lights in the middle of the stage. Jorah gave her a small smile and she returned it. “Alright…everyone is here and ready. Now…I want this to be reminiscent of the original playbill.”
Tyrion had a copy of it in his hands. Daenerys stared down at the slightly worn paper, with Nicole Kidman looking back up at her as she was embraced by Iain Glen. Daenerys wondered if Nicole had had as hard of a time as she was having now. Because she was about to lose it.
“But…” Tyrion continued, “With a few tweaks to make it a bit more modern. Jorah…here…stand right there…”
Jorah did as directed and then Tyrion’s eyes turned to Daenerys, “Take the robe off, love.”
Daenerys hesitated and she saw Jorah turn his head slightly so as not to look directly at her. She appreciated his understanding of her vulnerability and undid the tie at the waist of the robe, slipping it off.
Tyrion helped position her where he wanted her, facing Jorah. “Perfect. Let’s take a few test shots.”
The camera snapped away, with bursts of light that momentarily blinded Daenerys , making her blink and her eyes water. Both of them stood, facing one another except with their heads turned towards the camera. Jorah seemed natural, but she felt too stiff, as the photographer kept lamenting.
“Daenerys, do you need a drink?” Tyrion asked, only slightly annoyed. She promised she didn’t as both he and the photographer agreed on a different pose – one with her hands on his chest.
She placed both of her hands on his warm chest, now acutely aware of the height difference between them.
“Sorry…I know my hands are cold…” she apologized to Jorah, who only smiled. It felt completely surreal, her standing there, inches away from him, being prodded and fussed over by the make-up artist and Tyrion between photos. They arranged and re-arranged her hair, having it falling over her shoulders in one shot and then pushed back in another. All the while, Jorah’s position remained the same – with him looking at her while she looked at the camera.
Jorah felt extremely lucky.
All he had to do was stand there and stare at perhaps the most gorgeous individual he had ever seen.
He had been nervous to see her again that entire morning, hoping his attraction to her had just been the result of an exciting new venture combined with a little too much alcohol.
But now, as he stood there, her small hands on his chest and her face angled towards the camera, he knew he was in deep, deep trouble. His attraction to her hadn’t gone away overnight as he had hoped. And it was increasing by the second.
He was trying his best to make her feel comfortable, even though Tyrion was changing his mind and adjusting her pose after every few shots. He knew it wasn’t easy for her to be as exposed as she was, for someone who hadn’t been in the business for a while.
And yet, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.
The gentle curve of her neck. Her long lashes fluttering every time the lights flashed. The delicate swoop of her collarbone and her perfect breasts…
The more he looked at her the harder he had to try and think of something else. Something depressing and terrible to make sure his attraction to her wouldn’t be apparent to anyone else. He couldn’t have his body betraying him like that. She couldn’t know.
“Alright, perfect. One more pose…Daenerys, put your arms around his neck and Jorah, put yours around her waist. And press your chest against his…” Tyrion instructed, looking at the screen behind the camera with the photographer.
For the first time in fifteen minutes, Daenerys looked at him as she gently placed her arms against his shoulders and cupped the back of his neck with her hands.
“You are doing great,” he told her and the smile in her eyes along with how soft her skin felt as he placed his hands on her hips made his cock twitch in his pants. He sucked in a breath as she pressed her chest against his. It would be the start of a perfect, romantic embrace in a different life, if he wasn’t married and she was single, and Tyrion Lannister wasn’t staring at them.
“Beautiful…now Jorah, look down at her and Daenerys, back at the camera…” Tyrion said. A few more flashes of the camera and the photographer and Tyrion both agreed that they got the shot they needed. “Gorgeous. Now, get dressed and we’ll start rehearsing Scene 1.”
Chapter 4: Scene One
Hi all! I first want to thank Clarasimone for her feedback and help on this story and to all of you for the support and for reading. The play lines in here are taken directly from 'The Blue Room', so credit goes to David Hare for that. Enjoy!
“Aren’t we going to read through the scene?” Jorah asked Tyrion after both he and Daenerys dressed and returned to the stage. Daenerys knew enough about theater to know that some elements overlapped with film and television – usually a read-through was done before anyone got on a stage or in front of a camera.
“There’s no time for that nonsense...we will just dive right in,” Tyrion laughed, handing each of them a copy of the play. “Just start...I need to see it...”
Jorah and Daenerys exchanged glances at Tyrion’s untraditional methods and situated themselves as the scene called for. The first scene and pairing was ‘The girl and the cab driver’ and Jorah started to walk across the stage, passing Daenerys and she spoke on cue.
“What? What did you say?”
Jorah looked at her, “I didn’t say anything”.
“I thought you said ‘anything’”.
“What made me think you just spoke? Do you want to come home with me?”
As Daenerys said the line and looked at Jorah and felt herself blushing. It’s just a character. It’s just a line. The whole play is full of lines like this...
“Do I want to go home with you? Go home? Why would I go home with you?” Jorah’s tone was harsh as he leaned into the character he was creating, and Daenerys stammered as she looks down at her next line.
“Stop...” Tyrion interrupted, “Daenerys, do you need a drink?” That seemed to be his answer to all problems.
“It’s ten in the morning...” she blushed full out now.
“You need to be more confident here...” the director sighed and looked to Jorah for back-up, but the leading man gave none. Instead, he walked over to Daenerys and turned his back towards Tyrion so he couldn’t interject on what he is going to tell her.
“You are doing just fine. It’s only our first run through, alright?” Jorah looked down at his co-star with his gentle blue eyes and he lightly placed his hands on her arms to reassure her. It only served to make her more tongue-tied. His skin against her skin felt good – she couldn’t deny it.
“I’m...how are you so good at this?”
“Lots of practice. Now, come on. Let’s try it again,” Jorah coaxed her with a smile, and she nodded, both of them returning to their places and starting the scene over. This time, Daenerys took on a more confident air. The ‘girl’ in the scene was essentially an inexperienced hooker, trying to pick up a client for the night.
They read the scene through, both following the stage directions with Tyrion making little tweaks here and there, but not so much as to completely interrupt the flow that they were getting into.
“What I want ... what I really need is somebody long-term. I need someone ambitious.” Daenerys recited, trying to stay in the moment of what they were doing, and Jorah was certainly helping with that. It had only been a few minutes acting with him, but he had her in awe with his ability to slip into a character and thoroughly possess the stage.
“Long-term I’d make you jealous.” Jorah said with a smile. Daenerys has no doubt that if she were with him, he would. Not on purpose – no – he didn’t seem a vindictive man in any way. She didn’t know how his wife does it, being with him knowing so many women lust after him.
“I’m irresistible. Woman can’t resist me.” She can see that Jorah almost breaks character when he says that, clearly wanting to laugh and she tries to hold her expression. It is endearing to her – how he would find that line funny and she is thankful he isn’t one of those actors who is so full of themselves that their ego precedes everything. But beyond that, every few seconds she feels as if her mind is betraying her and she is thinking things she shouldn’t...completely agreeing with the line, even if he doesn’t, as if it were written so long ago for him now. He is irresistible – gorgeous with just a smattering of blonde stubble covering his face and down his neck and cheekbones that could cut her and she would gladly take any punishment that involved that...
Daenerys knew she got too lost in thought when Jorah cleared his throat just a little bit, prompting her. She took his hand, as the stage directions said, and started to lead him across the stage.
“Watch out. It’s dark down here. One foot wrong and you’re in the river”.
“I’d love to be in the river”.
She smiled and the lowness in his voice as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. She could smell him now and it wasn’t any cologne. It just seemed to emanate from him – woodsy and fresh, almost like pine in an untouched forest.
“Let’s do it on the bench. There’s one over there”.
“Let’s do it here”.
“Watch out, or we’ll both be in the water...”
“Great...” Jorah said playfully, still holding her close.
“We’ll both be in the water”.
That was where, in the play, the lights cut off and a screen would read ‘3 minutes’, for how long it takes them to couple and re-dress themselves. Jorah let go of her and she laid down on the stage and he followed, crouching down on his knees – the positions they would be in when the lights came back on.
“It would have been better on the bench.” Daenerys sighed.
“On the bench? Off the bench. Up the fucking wall. What’s the difference? Up you get.”
“Hey, where you going?”
“Back to work.” Jorah said and he stood and reached out a hand for Daenerys. She took it and he helped her up, steadying her with a hand on her hip. The gesture was intimate and not written for him to do, but it made the scene even more convincing. “I told you. I’ve done no business tonight.”
Jorah let his hand fall from her waist and started to walk away. Daenerys called after him.
“What’s your name?”
“Oh no, I’m not telling you my name.”
“My name’s Irene.”
Jorah turned and smiled, “Irene, well!”
He turned around to walk away again and she followed him.
“Come on.” Daenerys added a bit of a desperateness to her voice. She felt her character wouldn’t want him to walk away so easily. Or maybe that was what she was feeling.
“What? What are you asking?”
“Come on. I didn’t want any money. Really. I didn’t. But, please - give me some money.”
Jorah looked at her, holding the scene there until he is ready to continue. “It went on the sushi. I’m not an idiot, Irene.” He turned and walked off-stage.
“I’ll be here tomorrow!” Daenerys called after him and Tyrion started slowly clapping. Jorah walked back towards Daenerys as the director looked over them both.
“It’s a good start. A hell of a good start,” Tyrion finally complimented them, “Daenerys, you struck a good balance there between confident and needy. I’m impressed. Jorah – can you take five? I want to speak to Daenerys.”
Jorah nodded and left the stage to go to his dressing room, wanting to give them some privacy. When Tyrion and Daenerys were alone, the smaller man reached for her hand. “My dear, you are a natural, and I knew that, but you are holding back a little, aren’t you?”
Daenerys felt overwhelmed to the point of being oddly emotional. She had gotten caught up on stage with Jorah and had honestly been so distracted that she hadn’t focused on her own acting, as Tyrion was so gently pointing out, “A little.”
“And why is that? I know you are new to this and I understand the nerves of the thing, but there’s something else, isn’t there?” Tyrion asked it with a smirk and a glint in his eyes and Daenerys suddenly felt a wave of panic overcome her. Was she that obvious?
“Jorah is just a really great actor. It’s a little intimidating,” Daenerys came up with for an answer. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. Both of them knew that.
“He’s been in dozens of plays and film, so of course he can get into it a little easier. But you don’t need to worry about him. That’s my job. You need to worry about you...”
In just that short scene, run through for the very first time, Tyrion was ecstatic over the results. Jorah, of course, was exceptional and was already bringing some interesting nuances to a character he only just dove into. And Daenerys had every quality of the stunning ingenue if he ever saw one. And the frisson between them was palpable – Tyrion was just trying to figure out how deeply an instant attraction ran on either side.
He had known Jorah for a long time. The man was the consummate professional and a damn good actor. He had no doubt that his acting skills were up to par enough to make the sexual chemistry he just saw more than convincing. Daenerys, on the other hand...
“You are attracted to him.” Tyrion stated to his star matter-of-factly, and her blush confirmed it.
“He’s...um...really just captivating on stage...”
“Just be careful now, love. He’s a married man.” Tyrion warned her in a tone that he hoped conveyed that he was on her side, if not concerned. Yes, he and his brother were sordidly betting on them hooking up, and yes, he was overjoyed at the chemistry between them that would surely light a fire across London, but he did need them to keep it professional until at least opening night, he realized. He didn’t need any additional drama until the reviews were in and everyone was lauded for their great work, especially himself.
Jorah sat alone in his small dressing room with the door closed. He had been thankful that Tyrion gave him a few minutes, as he desperately needed to re-group. It was unlike him to need a break at all, accustomed to working long hours and doing scene after scene. But one ten-minute scene with her and he felt drained.
He took a long sip of water and looked at himself in the mirror. Jorah knew he was being ridiculous, getting so bent out of shape over a woman who was just trying her best in her very first proper stage role. He could tell she was nervous and for some reason he couldn’t put his finger on, he desperately wanted to protect her and tell her that even though she couldn’t see it in the moment, he thought she was incredible.
Her innocence and lack of experience in this world brought such freshness to the way she said her lines, to the way she interpreted her characters’ actions and Jorah knew this play was going to really be something special. And not because of him.
When he had taken her in his arms in the scene, he wanted to kiss her right then. The urge to do it scared him. He was always level-headed and above all, loyal. Daenerys Targaryen had turned his world upside down in a matter of days - every single one of his values were being called into question.
He took the small, framed photo of Lynesse off of his dressing room table. He couldn’t look at it anymore.
His stomach dropped when he thought that maybe things weren’t working anymore between them because of him. Not because she was selfish and dramatic, but because he wasn’t giving her what she needed. Because he wasn’t paying enough attention to her. He swallowed down the thought that he wasn’t a good husband. He needed to do better. He couldn’t continue on with these feelings about Daenerys. He just simply couldn’t.
After a deep sigh, he gathered himself and walked back out to the main theater, where Tyrion and Daenerys were happily chatting. He was sitting in the front row in one of the velvet covered seats and she was perched on the edge of the stage, legs dangling.
He had promised himself only a minute ago that he was going to tamp down his feelings for Daenerys, but seeing her sitting on the stage, laughing with Tyrion, made his heart bloom again and he couldn’t control it. He felt inexplicably happy around her.
“Everything alright?” he asked the pair of them, his hands in his pockets.
“Daenerys and I were just saying that we should do something celebratory to mark the start of all of this. Maybe a dinner. We’ll all bring our significant others and toast to the undoubted success this serendipitous little play is going to give us, what do you say?” Tyrion looked expectantly at Jorah.
“Um, yeah, of course. Why not?” he finally managed. The thought of bringing Lynesse to a dinner with Daenerys was the last thing on his list of things he wanted to do in this lifetime. But it seemed he had no choice in the matter and Daenerys gave him a smile.
“Let’s plan it for later this week then. Now, come on...let’s start rehearsing Scene 2.”
Chapter 5: Scene Two
Hello all! If you have stuck with this story, thanks for reading! I wanted to let a lot of David Hare's script shine through here since it has been so interesting to read it for this story - so the dialogue related to the play itself is not mine. It is a bit of an angsty chapter, with more to come - enjoy!
“Alright, scene two...Jorah – you are still the ‘cab driver’ and Daenerys, you are now the ‘au pair’. Shy, French accent please, and go...” Tyrion clapped his hands and leaned back into his chair in the first row of seats.
Jorah joined Daenerys on the right side of the stage for them to enter the scene together.
“Show me, go on, show me again...” Jorah started with the same cocky bravado in his tone that he had used in the previous scene.
“You won’t get it.” Daenerys replied, her first chance to test the French accent and she looked to Tyrion, who simply smiled. She didn’t think it was half-bad either.
“I will. You wait. I’ll get it.” Jorah smiled at her and per the stage directions, Daenerys broke out into a little dance. She made it up as she went, and Jorah tried his best to copy her. Not per the stage directions, they both fell into laughter and the ridiculousness.
“Keep going...” Tyrion said. He was more amused than annoyed, but the pair on stage quickly recovered and picked back up.
“I do that...” Daenerys said, slowing her motions to try and teach Jorah the move she had just done.
“I do that. Then I do that.” She ended with a spin and he copied her. They smiled at one another.
Daenerys took a step closer to Jorah, “By the way, what are we doing in here?”
“Escaping the dance.” Jorah said it coolly, as if it were obvious and Daenerys was once again impressed with the nuance he was able to add on the fly. He strode towards an imaginary door.
“Do you know my name? Can you even my name remember?” Daenerys, eyes wide, stumbled over the words purposefully to try and appear less confident in English.
Jorah looked back at her, “Can I your name what? Tell me, then, if it’s so important.”
“Marie. And you?”
“I can’t call you Fred.”
“Why not?” Jorah reached his arm out to close the imaginary door, secluding them in the small storage space where the scene took place.
“It’s so dark. My God, look how dark it is!” Daenerys folded her arms across her chest, looking around.
“Girls say they’re scared, but what are they scared of?” Jorah stepped closer to her again, waiting for her answer.
“The dark. They’re scared of the dark.” Daenerys projected a slight sassiness as he grabbed her hand and walked with her along the stage. She felt her palm tingle at his touch.
“This way my dear.” Jorah stopped with her after going a few feet. He reached up to pull on an imaginary string to turn on an imaginary light. “Why not tonight. Just tell me, why not?”
Daenerys hesitated for a moment as he looked at her. “Because,” she shrugged.
Jorah sighed, “All girls say ‘because’. I don’t know what ‘because’ means.”
“It means because.”
“Because it’s Tuesday? Because we’ve only just met?”
Daenerys stood her ground, “Just because.”
“Because you don’t fancy me? It’s hardly likely, is it?”
Daenerys suddenly had a very strong urge to break character and tell him that she did fancy him and he wouldn’t have to ask her twice to have sex with him, even in a dusty storage room. But the dirty thought and the fact that it came so readily to the forefront of her brain shocked her. “Why not?”
Jorah laughed, “Well, just look at me.”
Look at them - Tyrion thought to himself as he watched Jorah and Daenerys play out the scene. He was thrilled that Daenerys seemed more comfortable this time around. He had been a little nervous at first at how green she seemed, but he could see the confidence building in her by the second.
And their chemistry. It was natural – as if they had known one another in a previous life. Miraculous. He couldn’t wait to get their pretty visages up on every billboard and marquee in London. Beyond the fact that most of the seats at the Donmar were already pre-sold for the entire season, Jorah had a built-in fan base and he was sure Daenerys had a few followers of her own. Combined with theater aficionados and men who wouldn’t kick and scream to be dragged to see the play by their wives or girlfriends based on Daenerys’ face alone – oh, it looked good for him. For all of them.
Tyrion started to stroke the scruff on his face to hide his smile as he looked between the two of them, lighting up the stage even without the set or the props or the clothes. He really needed to thank his brother for talking Jorah into this. And he wordlessly thanked himself for getting piss drunk a month ago, turning on the telly to watch the most mindless shit he could find and saw her.
He pulled himself away from his thoughts and back to the present, running his index finger down his copy of the play to find where they were.
“I’m not saying ... I’m not saying you’re just any old girl. But the way I can tell you’re a girl is because you say no.” Jorah paced, acting anxious as the scene moved on.
Daenerys watched him, her arms still crossed over her chest, “What do you think the reason is?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why do you think I say no?”
“Tell.” He stopped pacing and they looked at one another. There was a pause for them to do just that in the stage directions, but they held it a beat longer.
“Because of the risk. That’s why. Why should I risk? That’s the reason. It’s not safe nowadays. I’ll only risk it...” Daenerys trailed off nervously. Her eyes had jumped down a few lines to a word that was now rattling around in her head and her nerves were very, very real. She knew what was coming.
“If what?” Jorah prompted her.
“If it means something. If I’m to risk, it has to mean something.” Daenerys agreed with the ‘au pair’ on this. She had never had a one-night stand. She loved monogamy more than she felt a girl her age should. Sex had to mean something to her, and she found it ironic that there she was imagining having it with a married man. As a woman who had a boyfriend.
She looked back down at the play in her hands and then to Tyrion. His eyes gave her a clear signal that she could take a pause if she needed to, but she didn’t want to interrupt the flow of the scene. If Jorah didn’t need a moment, then she didn’t need one either.
Jorah hadn’t broken character, and when she turned back to him, everything seemed to start happening in slow motion. He closed the gap between them, and one arm smoothly slid around her waist and pulled her to him. She knew this was coming. Several times. Throughout the play. And yet, she was wholly unprepared. She didn’t know what to do with her hands, so she settled with placing them on his chest as he turned his head slightly and kissed her.
Daenerys had rehearsed kisses many times. She’d done it for theater performances at uni and with her television love interest, Daario on Dragon’s Lair. It was always a simple task – slightly uncomfortable, but overall meaningless. She had thought she had done pretty well at making herself look ‘in love’ on television and had just pictured kissing Drogo in her minds’ eye to conjure up the needed expression and feeling.
But when Jorah Mormont kissed her, she completely forgot who she was and where she was. She should have been able to do the kiss to move the scene along as if it meant nothing. But his lips were so warm against hers and she didn’t want to stop...
“Daenerys...” Tyrion cleared his throat and both her and Jorah stopped kissing and looked towards their director.
“You are supposed to push him away...” Tyrion continued, pointing at the play in his hands and she was sure she blushed fuchsia. She could feel her cheeks burning.
“Oh...sorry, I thought he was supposed to push me away...” she mumbled out a passable excuse, playing dumb. It made her feel like a sloppy actress to not know her cues, but she hoped it saved her a little face with Jorah. She felt her co-star’s hand on her shoulder.
“It’s alright,” Jorah calmly took over, “Do you need a second, Daenerys? I know how awkward these things can be...” He said the second bit just to her, turning his body to block out Tyrion and give her a little breathing room.
She managed to look him in the eye. “I’m okay. We can move on.”
Daenerys choked down her pride and took a deep breath. If she wanted to be a professional actress, she needed to act like one. She tried not to let the hurt she felt inside betray her – he said it was awkward when she felt like it was New Years’ Eve at the London Eye. She was simply starstruck and inexperienced. It was a stage kiss and nothing more.
“Pick up from after the kiss...” Tyrion chimed in as Jorah and Daenerys readied themselves.
“It means something. I promise.” Jorah told her. All Daenerys could sardonically think was lies.
“Does it? Does it really mean something?” How she wanted to know if he felt what she did. What was this man doing to her that she couldn’t think straight? Was acting like an idiot because of?
Jorah took her hand and pulled her down to the ground.
“I can’t see your face.”
He smirked, “What’s my face got to do with it?”
“Let me see your face.” She asked and gently touched his cheek.
“Alright...and then the screen will come down and read ‘9 minutes’...then lights back on and...” Tyrion narrated.
“Well there we are.” Jorah leaned back on his hands, legs spread out in front of him, looking everywhere but at her, “But we can’t lie on boxes all night.”
He mimed lighting a cigarette and putting it to his lips, “It’s worth doing, don’t you think? For the cigarette. It’s worth doing for the cigarette alone.”
Daenerys nervously adjusted her shirt to convey a vulnerability she was already feeling, but for different reasons. “Oh God...”
Jorah looked at her, rather indifferently, “Oh God, what?”
“Tu es un animal.” She glared at him and used her best French pronunciation.
“That’s right.” He smirked again. Daenerys couldn’t believe how good he looked in that moment – the lights shining on him and the way he ran his hand through his hair.
“What? What, Fred?”
“Tell me ... tell me what you feel.” She moved closer to him.
“What I feel?”
Jorah laughed, “I’ve just shown you what I feel.”
Daenerys looked down at the hem of her shirt again and fiddled with it. She wanted nothing more than to just finish the damn scene. She felt utterly overwhelmed. “Frederick, tell me. Put it into words.”
“You know what I feel.”
Daenerys swallowed hard. “Then kiss me.”
Jorah leaned over and kissed her once more. It only lasted a second before he pulled away. Daenerys was thankful that she had steeled herself enough to seem unfazed.
“I mean, I don’t know. Feel’s a big word.”
Jorah stood up and helped Daenerys to her feet. They both took a moment to adjust their clothes and he continued, “What are we going to do? Are we going back to the dance?”
“If you like.”
“I don’t know. I’d like to go back, but I’m sort of confused. To be honest, you’ve sort of confused me.”
You’ve completely confused me – Daenerys thought to herself.
“Have I? How did I do that?”
Jorah pressed his palm against his forehead, frustrated, “I don’t know. If I knew, then I wouldn’t be confused. I knew where I was, now I don’t. I don’t like that. I don’t like the feeling.”
“No? Well, I have to go.”
Daenerys sighed, “Yes. I have to get back. I’m treated like a servant. By the whole family. I have the cats to feed, the dogs, the humans. I’m a slave.”
Jorah stepped closer to her again, frowning, “How are you going to get home?”
“You can’t walk. It’s dangerous. At this time of night. Don’t you want a lift?”
She stayed silent and it further annoyed him.
“I don’t get it. What am I meant to say? What do you want me to say? I’m offering you a fucking lift.”
She smiled and started to walk off the stage and he pursued her, grabbing her hand.
“And what does that mean? What does the smile mean?”
She smiled at him again. She had to force herself to do it.
Jorah’s face changed to look almost wistful and she was impressed with the characterization he was creating – she, on the other hand, was just trying to hold herself together. “I’d like a dance. Can we have one more dance, please? I mean, if we don’t, isn’t it just a bit brutal?”
The scene ended there, with them sharing one last moment together before he left her alone, venturing back out to the ‘party’.
“Well done!” Tyrion complimented them, “But it’s nearing four – we can pick back up tomorrow.”
As Tyrion pulled out his mobile and hopped on a call, Daenerys quickly made her way off of the stage and to her dressing room to grab her things. She was so singularly focused on getting out of there and getting home to try and decompress that Jorah stood in the doorway of the room for over a minute before finally clearing his throat and getting her attention.
“You alright?” He asked, his eyes much kinder than they had been whilst he was in character.
She shrugged on her sweater and slung her purse over her shoulder, “Yeah...I’m good. Nice job today. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Daenerys felt how cold her words were – so different from how they had interacted less than a day before and she felt guilty for it – but she needed to nip this irrational crush on him in the bud before it got out of hand – and shutting down was currently her best option.
“Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to get a drink again...” Jorah ventured and her stomach flipped, drawing her back in to him. She desperately wanted to say yes, but she couldn’t further embarrass herself any more than she had already that day.
“I...I can’t...Drogo has this thing I should really be at. Maybe another night.” It wasn’t a lie. Drogo had invited her to a party with his teammates, but there was no real obligation – she could have easily accepted Jorah’s offer and spent the night drinking with him. But that would only serve to make her job more impossible. If she blew her chance on the stage opposite such a big name and under such a revered director, her career wouldn’t survive it.
She slipped past him, out the door, “Goodnight, Jorah.”
Chapter 6: Interlude
This is a different type of chapter that will give more insight into what Jorah and Dany are feeling - hope you enjoy! Side notes - Missy and Dany are soft beans together and I am very aware my Drogo is much more Jason Momoa than a Khal.
Jorah was speechless as Daenerys slipped past him, out of her dressing room, and quickly walked down the hallway. He wasn’t sure what he had done, as there was a strange iciness in her voice and demeanor and her eyes weren’t warm as she looked at him. He had hoped they would spend the evening together, like the night before, and keep getting to know one another.
But selfishly, he wanted to spend more time with her for other reasons – the most prominent of which was that he was absolutely smitten with her.
Jorah had tried to give his best on the boards that afternoon, but every smile from her, the curves of her body as she danced in front of him, and the touch of her hand made him dizzy with desire.
And kissing her was an entirely separate issue. If Tyrion hadn’t cued her to stop, he wasn’t sure he would have had the nerve to do it himself. He hadn’t had a kiss like that in years – and he couldn’t remember the last time Lynesse made him feel like that. Of course, it was just acting, but he wanted to kiss Daenerys again and again outside of the theater if he had his way.
He closed the door to her dressing room and went to his to grab his things, guilt building inside of him and weighing heavy on his chest that he was actively thinking about being unfaithful to his wife. This wasn’t like him – he was serious and well-respected and took pride in his craft on the stage and on film. He needed to guide and mentor Daenerys and be a partner to her, not lust after her. There was a long and grueling road ahead of them with rehearsals and they both needed to be in top form to carry the production. An hour and forty minutes of them talking and kissing and fighting and taking their clothes off – and no intermission. It was a big ask for anyone.
Jorah tried to look on the bright side as he headed home – now he could have dinner with his wife and focus on her and their relationship. She would re-center him and snap his mind out of all of this nonsense – at least he hoped.
“Lynesse? I’m home!” Jorah called out as he unlocked the door to their Hampstead Heath house, surprised the house was dark. He turned on a few lights and walked to the kitchen, where he found a note on the granite island.
Out with Cat getting a drink – be back late
So much for spending time with my wife, Jorah thought to himself as he opened the fridge to scrounge for dinner. He settled on some leftover stew and grabbed himself a beer as well.
One beer turned to two and two turned to three and it didn’t matter what he flipped through on the tv – nothing kept his attention and he felt his mind always wandering back to Daenerys.
He picked up his cell and had to talk himself out of calling Jaime and quitting the production. If this was how he felt after only rehearsing a few scenes with her – then he was at serious risk of destroying his marriage, losing his sanity, and, as he looked over at the fourth beer sitting on the counter, venturing back into some of his old self-destructive habits. All because of a woman that was essentially a nobody.
But she was a somebody to him.
He finally put his phone down. He had to do this – he needed the money.
He laughed to himself. Blockbuster hit after hit under his belt – millions of pounds made – and what did he have to show for it? He was barely getting by and relying on each subsequent job to keep him afloat. All to keep Lynesse happy. To keep their posh house in the right neighborhood near all of her friends. For the fancy cars and clothes and all of the right things that seemed to please her.
He and Lynesse had met on a television set when his career was just taking off and hers was plateauing – she was a bigger name than him at the time – the one making much more money out of the two of them. It had been a whirlwind romance – he had been caught up in her fame and her pretty face and proposed, now that he looked back on it, much too soon.
It had been bliss for a while, but then her acting career started to dry up and his took off to heights he never could have imagined. She reveled in being his glamorous wife, hanging on his arm at every red carpet and event, but when they were alone, she could be petty and jealous and cruel about his work or performances and how he wasn’t providing her what she needed to be happy.
He rubbed his hand over his face, his eyes tired. Their relationship and marriage were based off of their shared passion for acting and physical desire for one another – and nothing more, Jorah realized sadly, and the thought made his stomach turn. He didn’t get on well with her friends, they barely shared any other interests, and when they actually spent the time to try and have a deep, meaningful conversation – they were on completely different pages. The one that hurt Jorah the most was that he wanted a family and she didn’t.
With a sigh, Jorah turned off the television and put his dirty dish in the sink before heading upstairs to bed.
“Babe – you came!” Drogo yelled across the pub that Daenerys had just walked into in Islington, a stone’s throw from where Arsenal practiced. The pub was packed full of his teammates and their significant others, and as he pushed through the crowd towards her, she could tell he was buzzed. And for him – that was a feat in itself, being over 6’4’’ and 15 stone of pure muscle. He picked her up in his arms and swung her around like a ragdoll, laughing.
She lightly swatted at his chest to put her down, dizzy as the pub blurred around her. “Of course I came...”
When her feet found solid ground again, he took her hand and led her to a table where some of his teammates were. She knew most of them and they all got along fairly well, but she just wasn’t in the mood to socialize and instantly regretted coming. The only thing that made it a bit better was seeing the smile on Drogo’s face as he bought her a beer and held her close. He was happy and energized from a good day on the field at practice – they all were.
She, on the other hand, had been given the acting break of a lifetime and she was miserable.
“How was it today?” He looked down at her and asked.
“It was...” Daenerys started to speak but Drogo slammed his pint glass down on the table, getting the attention of his teammates Haggo and Cohollo.
“Guys – my girlfriend is going to be in this play with Jorah Mormont...how fucking metal is that?” Drogo spread his arms out in excitement, but all Daenerys wanted to do was shrink as the two other guys looked at her, clearly impressed.
“That’s badass, Dany,” Haggo raised his glass to her.
“Yeah – that guy is cool. Is he chill?” Cohollo asked and Drogo looked at her, proudly.
“Yeah...he’s um, chill.” She shrugged. All she had wanted to do was be with her boyfriend and drink away her feelings for Jorah, but now he was the topic of conversation. With a bunch of football player – how was that possible?
“You kiss him?” Haggo kept on. The other side of the pub erupted at something happening in the Chelsea v. West Ham United game on the tv.
“What?” Daenerys’ eyes went wide.
“Like, in the play?” Cohollo smirked, nudging Drogo.
“Yeah, she does...and I’m cool with it. My lady is loyal,” Drogo answered for her, “And besides – what would he want with Dany, his wife is smokin’!”
“Right? I saw her in this commercial for some perfume my girlfriend likes,” Haggo went on as Daenerys looked at each of them, speechless, “I didn’t care what the hell she was selling – she looked hot. Irri wouldn’t talk to me for an hour...”
All of them laughed and Daenerys felt as if she were in a waking nightmare, “I’m just going to go get some air...” she told them and promised Drogo that he didn’t need to accompany her.
When she stepped out onto the sidewalk, she closed her eyes and breathed in the cold London night for a moment before dialing Missy.
“I can’t do this...” Daenerys blurted out as soon as she heard her friend pick up.
“What? Hold on...Daenerys, where are you? Are you okay?” Missy asked, concern in her voice.
“I’m fine...no, I’m not fine actually. I’m terrible. And I can’t do the play. Tell me how I can quit.”
“Dany – you can’t just quit. Everything is signed and in writing. You are going to make yourself very famous and make a ton of money and help my career too. I thought we were in this together?” Missy sounded hurt and Daenerys tugged the sleeves of her sweater down over her hands to keep them warm.
“I have to, Missy. You don’t understand...” Daenerys was almost in tears – Drogo’s comment about Lynesse Hightower hurt, on top of an already stressful day, “It’s him.”
“Did he say something to you? Is he an ass? I thought he seemed so nice...”
“No...he’s perfect...that’s the thing...” Daenerys looked up at the sky as she said it, wishing her feelings would just disappear. Missy was silent on the other end for a moment.
“Do you like him or do you just want to fuck him?”
“Missy!” Daenerys yelped and a few strangers walking by gave her a look.
“What? I need to know how serious this is!” Missy sighed, “Look...I just opened a bottle of wine – do you want to come over?”
“I’m at this pub in Islington with Drogo and the team – by the time I get there you’ll be passed out on the couch...” Daenerys smiled and knew her friend was smiling too.
“Touché.” Missy giggled, “Dany, we will figure this out. This is huge for you and you are a stronger woman than to let a little crush get in the way of this, aren’t you?”
“I’m not that strong. I’ve never felt this way before...” Daenerys admitted quietly.
“Is it possible you are just star-struck? I know Daario Naharis was the king of cat-food commercials and all before you two worked together, but this is the big leagues, babe.” Missy reminded her.
“Sleep on it and I’ll meet you at the Leicester station tomorrow morning at 7 and we’ll grab coffee before your rehearsal? Okay?” Missy planned and Daenerys agreed, “Love you.”
Daenerys hung up her phone and decided that there was no use worrying anymore about it that evening. She would go back inside and enjoy the night with her boyfriend. But – if he tried to get her to put out when they got home after basically calling her too unattractive for Jorah Mormont, he was going to have a rude awakening – of that she was sure.
Chapter 7: Scene Three
To those reading this, I adore all of you. Thank you for your support in this project - I've been thoroughly enjoying it! Even if I am a bit slow to update!
Dany looked worse for wear as she got off of the tube and turned into the Starbucks near the Donmar. Missy sat at a little table near the back, having already ordered their drinks and Daenerys nearly dove for her flat white before saying anything to her best friend.
After a few gulps that burned down her throat, she groaned, “It’s not bloody strong enough.” Neither of them frequented the chain, but Missy figured that neither Tyrion nor Jorah would grab their coffee somewhere so pedestrian – so they were safe to talk freely.
“Hello...good morning to you too...” Miss arched an eyebrow as she looked over her friend. Her long blonde hair was disheveled, and she had dark circles under her eyes, “You look like shite.”
“I’m sorry – I feel like I got run over by a bus,” Daenerys admitted, rummaging around in her bag for some aspirin.
Missy nodded slowly, “Did you drink too much last night?”
Daenerys popped back up, shaking out the last of the aspirin from the bottle into her hand and palming it into her mouth, “After you and I talked, I kinda went crazy with the G&T’s and then picked a fight with Drogo when we got home...”
“About...?” Missy did not like where this was headed.
“At the pub he basically said I’m not pretty enough for the likes of Jorah...”
Missy groaned, “Daenerys, although that’s really shitty of him to say for so many reasons, I don’t think you are mad about it in the way you should be.”
“And how exactly should I be mad?”
“Mad that your boyfriend doesn’t think you are the most precious thing in the world – that’s a whole other issue – but I know you – especially after our conversation last night. You are mad because you think this means you don’t have a chance with Jorah.”
Daenerys scoffed, “No...”
“Yes! And you don’t have a chance with him because he’s happily married. And your co-star – making him a relationship you don’t want to muck up with feelings and sex,” Missy tried to talk sense into her best friend because she saw the look in her violet eyes. She had a huge crush.
Daenerys dropped the act. She was too tired and hungover to try and pretend, “Missy...what do I do?”
“You need to think of this as just a job. I’m sure it’s weird because there’s so much intimacy in the play, but you are doing a job and he is doing a job. You are colleagues. You are both in separate committed relationships. And you love Drogo!”
“Do I?” Daenerys blurted out and then covered her mouth, shocked at what she had said.
“What do you mean, do you?” Missy furrowed her brow.
“It’s only been six months...and I know we say it to each other, but lately...”
Daenerys was a loyal woman – she had been a loyal friend to Missy for years and gave her all to every relationship. Missy knew that behind her tired eyes, something deeper was going on.
The brunette checked her cell, “Look...you need to get to the theater, and we can continue this conversation later. I promise,” Missy offered her best friend an arm and they walked out of the coffee shop together. She left Daenerys at the back-stage entrance after a long hug.
“You’ve got this babe!” Missy called back as she crossed the busy street. Daenerys took a deep breath before turning the handle of the door. She certainly hoped so.
Jorah rubbed his temples as he sat in his dressing room. He was hungover and the two empty cups of coffee sitting in front of him had done nothing to make him any more prepared for the day as he thumbed through the play.
His night, and morning, had been hell. Lynesse had never come back and when he tried to text and call her, he received no response. He had drunk himself into a self-pitying stupor, his thoughts alternating between anger at Lynesse, guilt that he had let her down, and confusion and near lust over Daenerys.
He wished he could curl into a ball, disappear, and not have to go through the day seeing the woman who had bewitched him in so many ways.
“You’re here early, Mormont...”
Tyrion’s probing drawl made Jorah turn to see that his Director had let himself into his dressing room.
“Couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d go over today’s scene,” Jorah answered, quickly realizing that no matter what answer he gave, Tyrion would not be leaving him alone anytime soon as the much shorter man sat down on one of the chairs opposite the dressing table.
“I know this is already a grueling schedule for you. I don’t need you here early. You shouldn’t be working yourself too much and taking time away from Lynesse...” Tyrion offered flippantly, although he had his own personal motives behind the comment.
Jorah was a patient man and strove to always be kind, but when others found his buttons and pushed them, he could get snappish and stubborn, “I’m not sure what exactly you are implying, Tyrion, but my marriage is none of your business.”
“Oh, come on, Mormont. We’ve known each other for years. We’re friends...”
“Jaime and I are friends...” Jorah corrected him, one of his hands balling into a fist.
“You are clearly hungover. I would know, I’m in a perpetual cycle of that – and you seem upset. I just want to help. You are my star and I want to give you whatever you need,” Tyrion changed his tone slightly and watched some of the tension leave Jorah’s forearms.
“Daenerys is the star. And I’m fine.”
“The entire first run of tickets is sold out because of you...not Daenerys. The posters haven’t even gone up yet. They have no idea who she is or what she looks like. It’s all because of you. Do you think I’d be paying you triple what she’s getting if you weren’t the star?”
Jorah frowned, “She should be getting exactly what I’m getting. She has just as much of a lift here.” He momentarily considered offering that Tyrion cut his portion and give it to Daenerys, but then realized the debt he’d be in.
“What she’s getting is an opportunity. She’s happy and I need you happy. Is it her? I know she needs more time and more experience...” Tyrion kept on his line of questioning, watching Jorah’s face.
“No...” Jorah shook his head quickly, “Daenerys is a dream.” Tyrion nodded with a smile.
“Then why are you hungover? I’ve never once known you to come to a set or rehearsal in less than top form.”
“It won’t affect today.” Jorah said with finality, turning back to the mirror. In the reflection he watched Tyrion slip out the door and finally leave him in silence once again, with just a few moments to pull himself together.
Tyrion sat in the first row, his usual place, with his hand in his unkempt beard, and watched as Jorah and Daenerys interacted for the first time that day. He was floored to see that Jorah wasn’t the only one who looked like complete shite. Thoughts ran rampant in his head – were they out together last night?
Yet beyond his initial reaction, he was impressed that Jorah, besides his physically tired appearance, had pulled himself together and Daenerys seemed ready enough. But what struck him the most was that the two of them only gave one another a brief ‘hello’, unlike the warm ‘good mornings’ and smiles they had been exchanging for the past few days. And they kept their distance on the stage. Quite a distance.
“Alright!” Tyrion raised his voice to get their attention. The set-piece for the scene was on stage – one of the first completed – it was a basic kitchen island and two barstools. “Today we will be running through scenes three and four a few times. Scene three gives us the return of our lovely au pair and Jorah, you are the student. This go-around, Daenerys you are older than him and a hell of a lot more mature. Whenever you are ready...”
Daenerys nodded and took a seat on one of the metal barstools, swinging her legs and using the pen and paper set on the wooden island to write.
Jorah took a beat and then entered from the opposite side of the stage, “What are you doing?”
Daenerys looked up, and even though she saw Jorah, and even though no audience member could mistake him for being younger than her, she also saw how he had subtly changed his body language. It was less confident, a little eager, and his voice was a little lighter.
“Writing a letter,” she said simply, looking back down.
“I see. Who to?”
“A man I met at a dance.”
Jorah let his head fall back, seemingly exasperated, “It’s so hot. It’s so unbelievably hot. It’s never this hot at this time of year. There’s nobody left in town. Am I the only person still working? They didn’t take you to the country?”
Daenerys put the pen down, “No.”
“What’s coolest? Vodka? Do we have vodka?”
“We ran out. Your father drank the lot.” Daenerys continued coolly, trying to make her character slightly annoyed at the inconvenience of dealing with him in the middle of something important.
“It’s him insisted I read law. It’s a family tradition.”
Daenerys chuckled and raised an eyebrow, “The drinking?”
“The law. It’s alright. I’ll just have some water.”
“There’s the tap...” Daenerys motioned to the sink in the middle of the island.
“Can you get me a glass?” Jorah asked, hands on his hips, entitled and expectant and Daenerys flashed a look of annoyance before getting up, grabbing an empty glass and pretending to turn on the tap.
“Let the water run, so it’s really cool.” He instructed her and she kept her eyes on him as she continued to stand by the sink, “Who called?”
“I heard the bell ring.”
“Did you? When?”
“Earlier.” Jorah continued, with more impatience in his voice and again, she was impressed at how he seemed to mold into a trust-fund brat right before her eyes, shifting his weight from one leg to another and running his hand through his hair.
“This morning. I’ve been up there so long I lose all track of time. I was expecting a friend.”
“No friend. Here.” Daenerys walked around the island and handed him the glass. Their hands were supposed to briefly touch, but Daenerys was afraid of the flood of feelings she would get connecting his skin to hers, so she maneuvered her hand to avoid contact.
Tyrion cleared his throat and broke the scene, “Linger there...Daenerys. Touch his hand. Look at him...”
As Jorah palmed the glass, he gently stroked her fingers with his for a second. It seemed to please Tyrion but made her heart fall into her stomach. She couldn’t understand how he had this much control over her emotions.
“Thank you. I’ll take it upstairs.”
Jorah left the center of the stage and Daenerys returned to the sink to get her own glass of water. A prop phone, sitting next to the sink, would ring, but for now, Tyrion cued her and she picked it up.
“Yes? You want another one? No...you come down.”
Daenerys took a sip from her glass and then filled yet another, obviously for Jorah, and he re-entered the stage
“Thank you.” He took the glass, their hands touching yet again, and he appeared jumpy and eager, “So, excellent. You’re enjoying it here? You get on with my father?”
“My mother likes you. You relate to my mother. Which is always important. I’ve found.”
“Here.” Daenerys motioned for them to sit and when he shook his head, pacing a little, she sat back down on the stool.
“She’s an interesting woman, don’t you think?”
“My mother. Do we do things differently here?”
Daenerys sat in silence for a moment before Jorah turned to her and beckoned her with a crooked finger.
“Come here, Marie.”
“Sir.” She said softly. It wasn’t meant to be, but Daenerys found it sexual. But then again, she found everything to do with him sexual – it was becoming a bit of a problem and starting to drive her mad.
“Not sir. Nobody’s called sir anymore. God, I hate that idea. Those days are gone.”
“Sir?” She got up and moved closer to him, just barely a foot away. It was the closest they had been all morning and she could see the exhaustion behind his eyes, behind this character.
“Please. I just wanted ... I was looking at the shirt. Considering you ... I know you have no money. Or we pay you so little, rather. And you have such nice things. Can I see it? Please?” Jorah uttered the lines so innocently, reaching to take the fabric of the hem of her shirt between his fingers to feel it.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing. It’s the most beautiful blue.”
“I mean it. I’m telling the truth.”
Daenerys inhaled sharply. She knew what was coming next and no matter how often those moments appeared, she is never ready for them.
She was bombarded by the intoxicating scent of him – not a cologne – nothing other than just him as he put his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. Daenerys was wearing the blouse she would for the performance – it had been laid out for her in her dressing room, and she looked down at Jorah’s fingers as they nimbly undid the top few buttons of it. She was inwardly thankful that she had worn a nice bra as his fingers gently grazed over her chest and he leaned forward and kissed her collar bone.
She felt dizzy at the warmth of his mouth on her skin, thankful that it came and went in a flash.
“Your skin is beautiful. It’s so white.”
“Now that’s just flattery.” Daenerys’ blush was not contrived.
“Nothing wrong with flattery, is there?”
“No. Flattery is no harm.”
He once again dipped his head to kiss her chest, now venturing between her breasts and Daenerys repeated in her head that it was only part of the stage directions, over and over like a mantra to coax her through the moment. She was supposed to sigh in delight, but the sound that came out of her was closer to a moan. A very real moan.
“What a beautiful sound ...”
Jorah stopped kissing her and suddenly dropped to his knees in front of her, bending over to touch her shoes.
“And what beautiful shoes. Blue as well. What do you call them? Indigo?”
“Cobalt.” She watched him dive deeper into the vulnerable, slightly manic boy he was supposed to be. For any actor it would be a masterclass – but her mind was filled with so many other thoughts.
“Are they ... I mean, what I’m asking, do you get them from the same shop?”
Jorah wrapped his arms around her legs, like a small child clinging to their parent and Daenerys tried to pull away, wanting to seem uncomfortable with the attention. But she was sure her movement wasn’t convincing, as all she really wanted to do was stay there with him.
“Sir, if the doorbell rings.” She laced her voice with panic.
“The bell won’t ring.” He nuzzled his cheek against her exposed thighs, and it sent a bolt of white-hot heat straight to her center, nearly making her lose her balance.
“At least close the shutters.”
Jorah was up in a flash, moving across the stage to close the imaginary shutters before turning back to look at her.
“Why are you shy?”
“You think I’m shy?”
“Anyone who looks like you has no reason to be embarrassed. If I looked like you, I wouldn’t be shy. If I smelt like you.” Daenerys was reminded of the comment Drogo made the night before.
What would he want with Dany? His wife is smokin’
Jorah paused for a moment, then continued with a hint of a wicked smile on his face, “The other evening, the bathroom door wasn’t closed. You’d fallen asleep in the bath.”
Daenerys partially covered her face with her hand, “I’m ashamed.”
“I’ve seen you already. I’m halfway there, I’m already halfway there ...” Jorah said quickly, and she braced herself again as he rushed towards her. In one quick movement, he had her picked up and placed on top of the kitchen island and his hands started to push up her skirt. She knew that they wouldn’t go too far, that it was still only a scene, but the tension she felt was so intense that her skin sprouted gooseflesh.
“What if the bell rings, what if your friend comes ...” she looked back towards the other end of the stage, nervous. But his hands gently parted her legs and her stomach clenched.
“My friend won’t come ...”
“What if he does?”
“Let him ring. Don’t go to the door. Just leave him. Don’t go to the door.” His voice was lower, his hands were still inching up her legs.
“What if he comes? What if your friend comes?” she asked, looking down at him and he shook his head.
“He won’t come ...”
Both of them stopped and looked to Tyrion, who had his head slightly cocked to the side, “And, as you know, screen comes down....45 seconds...all of that... now. Let’s stop for a second.”
Jorah instinctively helped Daenerys pull her skirt back down as soon as Tyrion cut the scene. Even though he appreciated that there was just the three of them, making these sexually charged scenes a bit easier without anyone else to watch, he didn’t want her to feel exposed. He wanted her to feel safe.
And he also needed to stop for himself. His mind was racing from the glimpse he caught of her black panties.
He took a step away from her as she slid off of the island. He felt out of breath – as if he had just run five miles, but he tried his best not to seem like anything had affected him. His head throbbed because of his binging the night before and he was desperately trying to make another part of his body not throb and calm down. He was thankful that he was wearing thick jeans.
Kissing her chest had been excruciating for him. Every moment that he had to touch her or kiss her felt like a punishment because it was so hard for him to walk the line between making the chemistry look real and not actually letting his true feelings surface.
“That was great,” Tyrion went on, “But Daenerys, you need to be a bit more freaked out by him. I mean, essentially, here is this 18-year-old kid who has no idea what he is doing, clinging to you. And Jorah --- although no woman in the audience is going to complain about watching you kiss her like that – be a little more shite at it. Fumble.”
Jorah heard Tyrion’s feedback and he agreed, wholeheartedly. But part of him didn’t want to fumble and act inexperienced. If this was the only way he had to touch Daenerys, he wanted her to see how good he was. He knew that sounded selfish and egoistic, but it was the truth.
“Understood,” Jorah nodded and looked over to Daenerys, who was avoiding his eyes. Something had shifted between them and he was desperate to know what it was.
“Shall we continue?” Tyrion asked to fill the awkward silence and both of his stars nodded, “Alright....screen goes back up and there you are with the doorbell ringing.”
Jorah offered Daenerys a hand to help her back onto the island, “You ready?” He whispered it only to her and she gave him a small smile.
“Oh Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!” Jorah started, cursing loudly and taking a step back from her.
“How long has it been ringing?”
“It’s only just started.” Daenerys promised him.
“How do you know?”
“I was listening.”
“Can you go?” Jorah started to pace, looking off in the direction of where the door would be.
“Go and look through the letterbox. It may just be a beggar.”
He raised his voice a little, getting angry, “I’m telling you - go and take a look.”
Daenerys once again got down from the island and headed off to the side of the stage for a moment before returning with her arms crossed, “Whoever it was, they’ve gone.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course, I’m sure.”
“Do you think it was my friend?”
“Well, we’ll just never know.”
As Daenerys walked back towards him, he stepped further back and avoided her gaze.
“I’m going to get a coffee.”
“What?” Daenerys’ eyes widened.
“I think I’d better go. I think I’d better be going. I’m going to the cafe. I mean it. If my friend calls...”
“He won’t call...” Daenerys sighed.
“If my friend does call...”
Jorah kept pacing, working himself up as Daenerys watched.
“If he does. I am saying, Marie, if he does ... if he does, please tell him where I am. Which will be in the cafe.”
She nodded, but kept her arms crossed and he finally stopped and looked over at her, his eyes different and unfeeling, “I mean, if you could do your job.”
“Sir.” Daenerys whispered, confused and dejected and the scene was over.
The veil lifted for them both and Jorah walked over to Daenerys to give her a small squeeze of her shoulder and a sincere smile, wanting her to know how well she did. But once again she seemed cold and distant and it hurt him more than he knew it should have.
“Let’s take a break,” Tyrion said, “I think we could all use some more coffee...”