Jorah was silent for a moment.
“Yes, Khaleesi.
The people of the Seven Kingdoms only want to be fed three meals a day and live without disaster or pain.
They do not care who sits on the Iron Throne.” Daenerys looked at him, her gaze lingering on his face for a moment.
“Then what about you?
Why did you travel thousands of miles to Essos to swear allegiance to him?” “Is it not precisely because he is of dragon blood?
Is that not what everyone in the Seven Kingdoms thinks?” Jorah’s expression stiffened for a moment.
“Because I was exiled here.” His tone carried a hint of bitterness.
“Why?” “I caught a few poachers on my lands.
By law, I should have turned them over to the Nights Watch, but I sold them instead.” He recounted the story.
“What is the Nights Watch?” “The Nights Watch guards the Wall, defending against the wildlings north of the Wall and…” He paused to think, ultimately deciding not to mention the White Walkers.
These days, the White Walkers were merely a legend, and no one had truly seen them.
“They are composed of exiles and criminals; once they go to the Wall, their past crimes are wiped clean.” Daenerys nodded.
“Then was the crime you committed serious?” Daenerys asked, like a curious child.
Jorah was silent for a moment.
“Eddard Stark sentenced me to death.
I had no choice but to flee to a place where the Seven Kingdoms could not reach me.” After he finished speaking, he spat to the side.
She had heard the name Eddard Stark; whenever Viserys mentioned the usurper, he would always include this name.
“He is as close as a brother to the usurper,” she said.
After saying this, she pulled on the reins and looked back.
She could not set her mind at ease regarding Viserys.
That arrow had pierced half his ear, and blood was flowing all over the ground.
She knew he deserved it, but he was her brother, after all.
She turned her horse around.
Three handmaids and three mounted guards followed behind her as she rode back.
Viserys was still where he had been.
Doria was crouching beside him, using a strip of cloth to bandage his ear.
He loathed the other two Dothraki handmaids, but he was relatively polite to Doria.
Back when she was still his slave, the two of them had often “sparred.” The bleeding had stopped, and the cloth was wrapped round and round, covering half his head.
Viserys sat there, his mouth never stopping, saying the most vicious things he could think of.
“That bastard…” “Please, do not say such things,” Daenerys said.
Viserys jerked his head up, staring at her.
“You little bitch, are you trying to boss me around too?” Daenerys closed her mouth.
She lowered her head and stood there, not daring to say another word.
He continued to curse, his words growing increasingly vile.
“You money-losing wretch, have you not served that savage well enough?
You had better hurry and make him give me the army.” “Otherwise, I will take you away and sell you to someone willing to provide soldiers.
There is always someone who wants a little whore of the dragon family to warm their bed…” Jorah listened from the side, his brow furrowing tighter and tighter.
“You should stop.
Otherwise, if Khal Drogo finds out, he will cut out your tongue.” Viserys jerked his sword from his waist, the tip pointing at Jorah’s chest.
“If you dare be disrespectful to your king again,” he gritted his teeth, “I will cut off your head first.” The king’s sword tip was less than a foot away from him; his hand holding the sword was shaking, not from anger, but because he couldn’t support the weight of the sword.
Jorah did not even blink.
Viserys had no soldiers, no money, and if it really came to a fight, he couldn’t beat him.
This sword was just a fire poker, meant to scare people.
What Jorah really wanted to say was: Do you think I came here to swear allegiance to you?
I am only watching you and reporting your whereabouts back.
But he did not say it.
He just stood there, letting the sword point at him.