Sister's Keeper
Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52
Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones
A/N: This chapter is rated M for sexual content.
Chapter 52: Deepest Desires
The Apex
Daenerys sat by her sister's side watching as the Blue Graces tried to find a cure. She held her sister's hand, tears running down her face. It has been two days since Alysanne was poisoned, her body falling into comatose state, breathing very slowly, as her chest expand a little then sunk back down. Her skin turning pale by each passing day, and lips blue. The Blue Graces says she was alive, but growing frail with each passing day. Daenerys commanded them to heal her, commanded the Unsullied to find any apothecary shop that has a cure for these poisons. Sweet Sleep and the Long Farewell, does have a cure, but brewing will take time. All knew about this attack was kept hush; however, Viserion could be heard wailing. Drogon, being the dominant, tried to make the golden dragon to submit, but barely.
"Please, don't die," Daenerys whimper squeezing Alysanne's hand. "You must wake up. You can't leave me. You promised. You promised to take me home. "
Tyrion entered the room seeing the youngest sister weeping. He didn't understand what happened. From what he was told, a Warlock from Qarth tried to seek revenge on the girls. They attempted this before in Astapor, with a manticore hidden in a toy ball. Now a Warlock snuck inside the Great Pyramid, putting an illusion charm on the pear brandy that was actually Shade of the Evening laced with poison and out of mere taste, Alysanne drank it.
"I'm so sorry, your grace," Tyrion said.
"She's not dead," Daenerys snapped. She was either Khaleesi or Your Highness, but never Your Grace. She will refuse to respond to that title.
Tyrion took a deep breath, "Daenerys- "
"All her life since we were forced into exile, men have tried to kill her. I don't know how many times knives were placed against her neck, her hands tied, and beaten. I don't know how many times poison-laced her food, only to be caught by our guardians. Or the times she grew sick or starving to a point death was near. Throughout it all, she risked her life to save mine. Even it means being abused by Viserys. Stabbed by cowards who hide behind masks, and in her moment of vulnerability, it took a warlock."
She turned around, facing him, "She is not dead. Alysanne is a fighter, no matter what she'll fight to stay alive."
The dwarf did not know how to respond to this. To him, the poisons that were mentioned and the limit of time left should have killed the Queen. It has been two days, and a Long Farewell can take hours, and yet it has been longer than that. The known question in what happened in Qarth lingered. Only five people genuinely know, and there was a communication error. Kovarro and Aggo only spoke in Dothraki, Jorah is nowhere to be found, Daenerys is emotionally distressed, and Alysanne laid dying. Ser Barristan had some knowledge, but he did not know what genuinely happened. Only that Xaro Xhoan Daxos and a Warlock name Pyat Pree stole the dragons, and the girls went to the House of the Undying to retrieve them. They were exposed to Shade of the Evening, having visions, and something else. One which people say Alysanne first kill was with the Undying Ones. Whoever the Undying Ones are held a steadfast vendetta against the Targaryen Sisters.
"What did your sister do, to heave their wrath?" Tyrion asked.
Daenerys turned her gaze back to Alysanne, "I was held prisoner. They chained me, as the Undying Ones crawled over my body trying to steal my magic in a sense. I was scared, petrified, and I called for my sister. Not a moment too soon, she came in with her sword and killed them all. Pyat Pree offered to let Alysanne go, and leave me and the dragons behind. But she said the dragon must have three heads. That we Targaryens will take what we want with Fire and Blood. Afterward, she had the dragons set him on fire."
Tyrion nodded.
"So, she cannot die," Daenerys said. "She fought so hard."
The dwarf did not know what to do. The last time he dealt with a monarch being poisoned was his own nephew. Joffrey deserved to die, though whoever gave the poison had framed him. All because he was forced to be the cupbearer. Now a good woman is dying in her sleep all because she protected her sister. He came over, resting a hand on Daenerys's shoulder. The Mother of Dragons looked at him cautiously.
"You're right, she is strong," Tyrion said.
Daenerys nodded, turning her focus back to her sister. Tyrion left the room to give Daenerys privacy, though deep down he had a feeling Alysanne won't make it. It made him worry about the princess's mind, in how she will take this death. Will it break her or not? Stopping at the door, he stared at the scene before him. True love and devotion in a family.
"Please wake up," Daenerys begged quietly. "First our family, then Rhaego, and Drogo…I can't lose you. Please wake up. We promised to sail to Westeros together."
She kissed Alysanne's hand, wondering what world the Warlock trapped her sister in. Remembering the Warlock saying, Alysanne would be trapped in her deepest desire. Of sweet dreams and beautiful nightmares.
.o0o.
Alysanne's POV
I shot up awake and found myself clenching my throat from a foul taste in my mouth. Looking around to see the room was different. Wait, wasn't I in Meereen? No, the room was different, it was of western culture. The walls of panel wood, as the ceilings were white having exposed wood beams with carvings. There were furnishings as well, of fine craftsmanship. Overwhelmed by the dream, as a faint scent of citrus caught my nose. A pair of arms wrapped around me. I tensed, pulling away about to hit the person when the individual grabbed my arm.
"Alysanne, easy, it was just a nightmare," the man said, with a Northern accent.
My eyes widen comprehending to see it was Jorah. How…how was this possible? Then my eyes linger to left forearm, seeing it…was not infected by Greyscale. I grabbed his arm inspecting it, seeing nothing but hairs and scars. I looked up, staring into his confused expression.
"You're cured?" I whispered.
"Cured? I didn't even know I was sick," he attempted to tease.
I shook my head, "You had Greyscale. I'd banished you, and you came back with Tyrion Lannister, but caught Greyscale when fighting a stone man in Valyria."
Jorah grabbed my hands and kissed it. "Love, it was only a dream."
On my left ring finger was a simple gold band with a blue gem on it. As Jorah had a basic gold band as well. Nothing decorative, just basic and simple. Wait…we're married? I tried to remember…
"It can't be a dream, I was with Dany…we were having dinner, and then a warlock…he poisoned me…" I tried to grasp hold of reality.
Jorah sighed, wrapping his arms around me, embracing me in a hug, "It was only a dream. I know you miss your sister. It's almost been five years since she passed. And what happened in Qarth, those Warlocks will never touch you again."
Wait, did he say Daenerys was dead. Five years? What happened in Qarth? I was utterly confused, trying to figure out what is going on. And then I looked out from one of the windows. Gazing through the view at the early hours of dawn to see a lagoon filled with islands connected with stone bridges and canals. I know this city, we're in Braavos. Jorah leaned over and kissed my forehead. All the memories from my dream and realization it was just that, a dream.
Daenerys was dead. She died in Lhazar after giving birth to her stillborn son, Rhaego. Drogo was killed too, he succumbed to the poison that Mirri Maz Duur gave him. Cohollo and Haggo, Khal Drogo's bloodriders killed the witch, and the Khalasar gave their Khal and Khaleesi a Dothraki Funeral. The Two bloodriders were generous and gave us horses and supplies before they departed back to Vaes Dothrak. Irri and Jhiqui went with the Khalasar since Irri was in a relationship with Rakharo, and Jhiqui found peace with the Khalasar. Doreah came with us, as we traveled through the Red Waste and into the City of Qarth. It was a struggle, but the Thirteen let us in, and Xaro Xhoan Daxos invited us as his guest until we can find a ship or a message back to Pentos. However, Xaro had other plans…trying to pressure me into marrying him. Then the Warlocks kidnapped me, trying some ritual to revive the dragon eggs. If it weren't for Jorah, I would have been enslaved and trapped.
We escaped on a ship thanks to the Spice King who had trade routes to Pentos. Although Doreah remained in Qarth. There we reunited with Magister Illyrio. He tried to convince me to continue Viserys's campaign of taking back the Iron Throne. But I had had enough. I had lost my sister, was held hostage in Qarth, used in some sacrificial ritual, and everywhere I went assassins followed. I was sick of running, tired of people using me because of my name and blood. All because I was descended from Aegon the Conqueror. All I wanted was to live and be happy. So, in my lowest lows, I abdicated. I had written a letter, sending to Westeros for the Small Council stating that I abdicate the Throne and all my descendants after that. Even gave the Targaryen Ring of Kings. I then sold the green dragon egg and started over.
Jorah for some unknown reason has been there by my side since joining my family's company. Back in Qarth, when I was tempted by Xaro's offer, he told me not too and confessed his feelings for me. Even when I told him I did not want to Iron Throne, he stayed by my side. Trust was hard since the Warlocks exposed his secrets. I couldn't talk to him throughout the voyage, that he spied on my family. However, over time, I forgave him. One thing leads to another, and a year later, we got married. Now I go by Alys Mormont. Only in private does Jorah called me by my given name. Since my alias was that I was a Lyseni, from Lys who is of Valyrian descent. We escaped to Braavos and started a small business in the trade of silks and exotic fabrics after selling the black egg. Jorah taught sword lessons on the side as well.
By some miracle, the House with the Red Door was our home. Not questioning the price, or it's a condition we purchased the estate from the Iron Bank. When we settled for the first time in years, I was with child. Jorah and I were nervous and excited. Both of us concerned since there was the risk of my health, the genetics of being a product of incest. The history of my mother, who struggled with her pregnancy. Along with Jorah's concern, since his first wife died from a miscarriage. So, we took every precaution until our son, Joren, was born.
The past five years, I've been having these dreams of Daenerys being alive and we were on our conquest to reclaim the Iron Throne. The dragons were back, two of them named after my brothers and one after Drogo. Jorah pulled us down again to the bed.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "These dreams, they've become so vivid, so real…"
"I would find it a nightmare too, if you had Greyscale." Jorah murmured rubbing my back.
I nodded, looking up into his blue eyes. There I saw so much love, devotion, and care. He leaned forward and kissed me on the lips. The scruffs teasing my skin during the gentle kiss. I chuckled slightly, kissing him back until the kiss grew passionate. Jorah rolled over to stretch out on top of me. Large callous hands caressing my body as they made their way down.
"You are of sweet honey," he murmured, placing a trail of kisses on my forehead, nose, and once more on my lips. "One I can't get enough."
"The Dragon seduces the Bear without even trying," I teased, accepting the pressure of his lips and moved my hips seductively against his hips. We were married and did not bother with protection, especially since conceiving was difficult for me. Although I have a feeling that my bear wanted a second child.
"Probably so," he replied, removing my nightgown, then feeling every inch of my nakedness beneath him, onto the raised buds of my breast. Before going back up, Jorah's runs his fingers over my face, throat, and neck. The musky scent of his arousal filled my sense in the citrus air. My eyes closed as I waited for what's to come next. His mouth slid down over my neck and chest. A damp lap of his tongue over my left breast made my insides spasm. He circled the raised bud slowly, taking time which we don't have. I bucked beneath him, wanting more, but his mouth returned to my lips with another passionate kiss. And then his lips become softer, lighter, teasing me.
"Joren will wake soon," I reminded. "Unless you want him to walk in on us again?"
Jorah chuckled as he turned to my breast. I moaned, closing my eyes as the sensation of his fingers tweedled my nipples along with his lips. Teeth were careful as they nip and tug before being soothed by his tongue. Meanwhile, he inches my thighs apart with his own and settles his hard length between them. His other hand teasing my entrance, sliding a finger inside to prepare me for him. A gasp escaped my lips, hips involuntary pressed against his hand while my hands gripped his shoulder. Jorah pulled back from my breast and grinned, getting me wet enough for what is to come. Once he considers it so, he eased himself inside me. My head hit the pillow, as he stroked inside me in a slow yet hard thrust.
I snaked my arms around him, sliding sensuously to his lower back, and then to his buttocks. Lifting his nightshirt up to expose him to feel his skin. With the force of my passion alone, I pulled him back, raised my hips, urging him on. With each stroke, sent waves of desire throbbed through me. A sense that this was the first time in a long time of being together. Each thrust surrendering myself to the storm, riding him to the height of passion, crying out with each deep stroke. My hands exploring his body, greedy to feel him as his muscles contorted.
He struck that sweet spot inside and sent me over the edge as I cried out his name. Jorah groaned as he continued to push into me as my body clenched around him. And then a few thrusts later, spilled his seeds inside me. Once spent, he pulled out and laid back down, panting heavily. I turned to my side and chuckle.
"Exhausted, already?" I asked playfully.
"I'm getting old," he muttered.
I chuckled, leaning over and peck his cheek, "You're never old."
A small smile graced his lips as we cuddle for a bit. But once the sun started to reach the sky, we knew it was time to get up and face the day. So, we freshened up and changed into our daily clothes, before separating. We had three servants whose job was to tend to the estate; however, it was the celebration of the Unmasking of Braavos they had the day off. Every year in Braavos with ten days of feasting and masked revelry, a festival would occur. During those ten days and other holidays, we let the staff go out and celebrate. A holiday in a sense. Over the years of travel, Jorah knows how to cook the basic, and when settling in Braavos, the cook taught me a few simple recipes. Along with the city having restaurants and markets to feast at. So as Jorah got breakfast ready, I went to wake our son.
Opening the door, I found Joren was still asleep. He slept in the bed, curled up to his stuff toy in shape of bear hugging it. I smiled, walking over, and sat on the edge of the bed. Joren was three now and was a good mixture between his father and I. His skin was fair, as his short curly hair was golden, somewhere between Jorah and my hair color. Only time will tell if it'll lighten up or darken. And he opened his eyes they were Indigo. There was some blessing my eye color, as Targaryens had different shades of purple eyes, and yet people mistake mine to be dark blue eyes. Making the deception much more manageable in this life. My sweet little boy stirred, turning away from me. I chuckled, rubbing his back and gently massaged him to wake up. A trick the nanny taught me to wake a child not to be grumpy.
"Mama, me sleepy," Joran mumbled.
"The sky is awake, Mommy and Daddy are awake, so it's time for you to wake," I softly sang.
Joren turned, facing me while rubbing his eyes. A big yawn escaped his lips as he stretched out his little arms before climbing on top of me. I chuckled, usually it would be appropriate to dress him now, except Joren, like all toddlers are messy eaters. So, we let him eat in his nightshirt before cleaning him up and changed for the day. Getting a good hold, I picked him up and carried him into the kitchen. There was no point in eating in the dining room right now. Once in the kitchen, the smell of bacon, eggs, and fresh bread enveloped us.
Jorah turned around, seeing us with a smile, "Tired?"
Joren nodded, clinging to my vest. Jorah chuckled, as he pulled out a chair and took Joren from me. He set the child down, facing the table and eyes widen when seeing bread smeared with strawberry jam and butter. Not even a blink and the boy were devouring it. Jorah and I chuckled, as we finished making breakfast and joined our son.
"Do you have any teachings today?" I asked Jorah, taking a slice of bread and applied the jam.
"No, not while the Braavos celebrations are happening," Jorah answered. "Any meetings with the Iron Bank or other businesses?"
"No, I finished the last transaction a few days ago. The deal went through, so the hides from the Dothraki will be distributed to the tanners." I replied.
"Dot-aki." Joren cheered. The little cub enjoyed the stories about the Dothraki. Ones Jorah has told him about his adventures. If Daenerys and her family were still alive, and our family made, Rhaego and Joren would be learning how to ride horses. Thinking about it brought a slight heart ache.
I sighed, "I believe several boating tournaments are happening. We should go see that. Enjoy the family festivities before things get out of hand."
Jorah nodded, taking a bite of his eggs. In the days of the Unmasking, there were events suitable for families. But when the nights arrive, it belongs to the adults. I remember the first year Jorah and I went to our first Unmasking, wearing elaborate outfits, well I was, and masks, dancing and drinking. Watching performances until on the last day where the Titan of Braavos roars and the removal of masks.
Once we finished breakfast, Jorah went to gather our things for the day while I got Joren dressed for the day. In the early day, it was not necessary to wear the mask, but I made our son this outfit to feel part of the celebration, as it held the Mormont colors of black, white, and green with small accents of red. His collar had scale print, though not visible unless someone has a keen eye. Joren was Mormont by name, but he has the blood of the dragon. If I didn't abdicate, he would have been the rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms, with the blood of old Valyria, Andal, and the First Men. An offspring for a Northman of Ice and a Dragoness of Fire. After Joren was dressed, I took the time to get ready, braiding my hair to the Braavosi style, applying the brass flower hairpins, and securing the rest a in a bronze thread caul interconnected with glass beads.
All of us officially dressed and ready, we left the House of the Red Door for the docks where one of the boating tournaments were occurring. Small boats with purple sails get for the reenactment of the history of Braavos? The crowd gathering, on the retelling a dark history of the Valyrian before they became the Freehold. As slaves at the time rose against their Valyrian captors and seized the helms of the convoy and the birth of the Braavos. Joren had a hard time seeing, as a taller kid blocked his view. Jorah chuckled, as he picked Joren up and placed him on his shoulders. The boy smiled as he watched the ships perform. I watched my boys, happy that I made the decision to abdicate. Ever since writing the letter to the Small Council, and giving up the Targaryen ring not once have there been any assassination attempt.
Have there been wars in Westeros? There have, as the Lannisters/Baratheon still reign over the Seven Kingdoms. Under Tommen Baratheon's reign there's been peace. Or at least those are the gossip since the young king was married to Margaery Tyrell. There was peace, and I found peace here with my family. It was best to let the Targaryen name to die out, but my bloodline shall continue.
.o0o.
Jorah's POV
The Exiled Knight frowned in disappointment as he left the physician who examined his condition. Just like the other three healers who have been reported of curing extreme cases of diseases, they were not able to cure Greyscale. They only provided ointments and recommend to drown the infected tissue in vinegar to slow down the spread. Currently, the infection has consumed his entire arm and half of his chest and back, still a light shade of gray, but they have calcified, and certain parts were tender. Twice, he had to escape from being shipped to Valyria or being killed.
Sometimes he wonders if he should just give up. But then he remembers Daenerys's order for him to find a cure. To get better and return to the Targaryen Sisters. To return to Alysanne. He cautiously walked through the streets of a smaller city outside of the Orange Shores. Staying away from large crowds and cities unless there was news of an expert physician. The past few days have felt like a struggle. He had a bad feeling something terrible was going to happen or already happened.
Checking his coin purse to see how much money he had left, decided there wasn't much for a secure inn. There were taverns, and even then, chances of someone walking in while he treats his Greyscale is risky. But it was getting late, and the cities become more active at night than they do in the day. Sighing, he continues walking, leading his horse out of the town to make camp.
"Jorah the Andal," a female voice greeted him.
Jorah stopped his track for he hasn't heard that woman's voice since Qarth. Turning around, he saw none other than Quaithe standing there. She wore her elaborate red and blue hexagon gown, with a dark blue robe over it. Her face masked behind the intricate metalwork of elongated hexagons, as her brown eyes stared at him.
"Quaithe," he whispered, seeing the shadowbinder from Asshai. The last time he saw this woman, she was painting a charm on a sailor back with ram's blood. Using her magic to tell him where the dragons were kept. What disturbed him, was that the woman knew everything about him, details that he told no one by a single stare.
The shadowbinder nodded, "You did not seek protection when sailing across Valyria. All who travel too close to the doom must have protection, Jorah the Andal. And now you are far away from your Queen."
"I can't be near her," Jorah sighed.
"You cannot, for it was a single drop of the dooms blood that puts you on a deadly path," Quaithe murmured.
"What do you want?" Jorah asked, not in the mood to be taunted of his mistakes.
"Your queen is dying," Quaithe answered.
Jorah tensed glaring at her, "She is not."
"I do not lie, follow me Jorah the Andal, and I shall tell you what you need to know," she said, as she started walking.
Jorah debated about this. He was not fond of magic, not after Qarth with Pyat Pree. When sailing to Slaver's Bay, and nothing magical happening after the Warlock's assassination temp, they be done with it. Concluding the farther east you go, the darker the magic becomes. However, this clairvoyant woman aided him in finding the dragons and protecting the Targaryen Sisters. She knew more things than Varys, so her to come all this way to tell him that Alysanne was dying got his attention. Fearing the life for his Queen and Lover, yet wary if this was a trap, followed the mysterious woman.
Quaithe lead him to a dark lit alley where there was a small table on the side. The stable boy saw them as Quaithe nodded to the adolescent, who took custody of the horse. Jorah quickly grabbed his property before following her inside a windowless building. Immediately his hand grasped the handle of his dagger.
"No harm shall come to you," she said, opening the door letting him in.
Cautious, he entered into the dimly lit building. Quaithe lead the way down the many halls until entering into a room filled with exotic artifacts from Asshai, Valyrian, and the R'hllor religion. He looked around wondering who else could be hiding among the shadows. Watching the deviant woman walked over to a table covered in vials and herbs.
"Why am I here?" Jorah demanded. "What has happened to the queen?"
"They shall come day and night to see the wonder born into the world again. And when they see, they shall lust, for dragons are fire made flesh. And fire is power." She quoted, from when they met in Qarth at Xaro Xhoan Doxas party. Warning him about the Xaro and the Warlocks. "They came once in Astapor, and now the warlocks have come again, this time victorious."
He stared into her dark eyes then widen, "No…"
"Your Queen is dying in a slumbering death. Poisoned by a warlock, and each passing day draining her fire until the Stranger claims her." She explained.
Jorah shook his head as he clenched his fist. No, Quaithe must be mistaken. Alysanne was heavily guarded, Daario Naharis, Ser Barristan Selmy, Grey Worm, the Second Sons and the Unsullied would have prevented such poisoning. Even Viserion with his sense of danger could have prevented it. And yet, the shadowbinder's eyes spoke the truth.
"How?" He demanded.
"Shade of the Evening disguised in Pear Brandy," she answered.
The Knight scowled, knowing Alysanne did not drink regularly, not after the poisoning attempt in Western Market in Vaes Dothrak. When it came to a hard drink, she would only drink when she needed to relax.
"Why are you telling me this?" He asked.
"You love her, Jorah the Andal, would you die for her at this very moment." She replied, staring into his eyes in an empty stare.
In the beginning, he would have hesitated, but knowing his love and devotion, he stared back at the shadowbinder, "Yes."
Quaithe nodded, "There is a way to break the curse the Warlocks put on the Dragoness. To break the spell, she must be woken."
"Daenerys would have woken her up already," he said.
"She must be woken up from her dream in the world the warlocks made for her. She is trapped in her own desires, one that no one wishes to leave. The longer she stays in the dream, the faster the Undying Ones claims her life."
"Then wake her up then."
"I am not in the dream. I cannot enter. But you can."
Jorah was confused.
"She dreams of you in this world." She explained as she walked over a table pedestal where a tall black statue in the shape of a candle stood. "This is a glass candle, made of obsidian and found after the Doom of Valyria. I can link your mind to hers, and there you must find the object that binds her to the dream or convince her to wake without being direct. However…"
"However, what?"
"If she were to die in the real world, you will both be trapped until death claims you. If you were to die in her dream, then you shall die in the real world."
Jorah stared at Quaithe thinking about it and then he stared at his left arm. He was already a dead man. He surrendered to the sickness the moment he first saw it, knowing it would kill him. Even consider killing himself before it could. Daenerys Stormborn convinced him otherwise, so he could come back to Alysanne. However, out the four physicians and healers known in curing rare diseases, there is no absolute hope of surviving. If this was his only chance to see Alysanne and save her, then so be it.
"What must I do?" he asked.
Quaithe stared at him seeing the future and nodded.
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