Sister's Keepers

Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones

A/N: This chapter is rated M for sexual content


Chapter 83: Twilight

Alysanne's POV

King Snow summoned everyone with an officer rank into the War Room. We gathered around the table where the battle plans were laid out. There were the usual participants, of House Stark, Ser Davos, and Lady Brienne. Daenerys, Ser Barristan, Tyrion, Varys, Grey Worm, Missandei, and Jorah stood beside me. Samwell Tarly had joined the council, although, he stood with the wildlings, Tormund, and Lord Commander Eddison Tolbert. His eyes were avoiding looking where Lord Randyll and Dickon stood, as the older man glared at his eldest son. In the meeting was also, Lady Alys Karstark, Lord Royce, Lady Lyanna Mormont with her advisor, Theon Greyjoy, Ser Gareth Wensington, Ser Garlan, Lord Beric, Quaithe with her sister, and other representatives. Let alone Visenya, as I could sense her in my head. Here we are going over the last arrangements for the Long Night.

Based on the survivors of The Wall, we have less than two days left. Basically, tomorrow night will be the battle. We all prayed for more time but based on Tyrion's geography, it is a two to three-week journey from the Wall, primarily through the Kings Road. However, the dead were traveling from Eastwatch-by-the-sea. In addition, the wights never grow tired and do not have human necessities. Not anymore. The survivors from the Wall made it a day earlier because they have horses. They were riding nonstop to make the distance between the Army of the Dead. Sadly, Lord Umber and the people of Keep were dead. Therefore, House Umber is now extinct.

"They're coming," King Snow said. "We have dragon glass and Valyrian steel. But there are too many of them. Far too many. Our enemy doesn't tire. Doesn't stop. Doesn't feel. We can't beat them in a straight fight."

"So, what can we do?" Ser Jaime asked.

"The Night King made them all. They follow his command." King Snow answered. "If he falls . . . getting to him may be our best chance."

"If that's true, he'll never expose himself," Ser Jaime noted.

"Yes, he will," Bran said by the fireplace, catching everyone's attention. "He'll come for me. He's tried before, many times, with many Three-Eyed Ravens."

"Why?" Samwell asked. "What does he want?"

"An endless night," Bran answered. "He wants to erase this world, and I am its memory."

"That's what death is, isn't it?" Samwell said, staring at Bran. "Forgetting. Being forgotten. If we forget where we've been and what we've done, we're not men anymore. Your memories don't come from books. Your stories aren't just stories. If I wanted to erase the world of men, I'd start with you."

We are nothing without our memories. A single moment in time. We can document those moments in parchments or passed them on through word of mouth. But if you destroy humanity, there will be no one to write those stories down — no one to remember and share our stories. We may be intelligent creatures that the gods created on this earth; in the end, we are animals. We have needs like any animals. And here we are, the majority of us had a part in history. We all have fought in significant wars that altered the course of history. We all have a name, a title, and a story to tell. All of us fighting for a legacy either be passed down through our children or written on a page of a book.

"How will he find you?" Tyrion asked.

"His mark is on me," Bran answered, rolling up his sleeves, showing four rigged lines, practically burn marks of a hand on his forearm. "He always knows where I am."

"We'll put you in the Great Hall where it's safest," King Snow said.

"No," Bran casually disagreed. "We need to lure him into the open before his army destroys us all. I'll wait for him in the Godswood."

"You want us to use you as bait?" Sansa asked, appalled.

"We're not leaving you alone out there." Arya agreed.

"He won't be. I'll stay with him." Theon promised, all eyes on the timid man. "With the Ironborn." He then looked at Bran. "I took this castle from you. Let me defend you now."

"As well as the Karstarks," Lady Alys Karstark added.

Sansa, Rickon, Jon, and Arya nodded, appreciating it.

"We'll hold off the rest of them for as long as we can," Ser Davos said.

"The Tarly Forces will handle the wall," Lord Randyll said.

"The Knights of the Vale and Dothraki will be the first defense," Ser Jorah added.

"Along with the Fiery Hand," Quaithe inserted.

"The Unsullied will guard the entrance," Grey Worm said.

"The Stormlanders and Soldiers of the Reach will be east side," Ser Gareth added, which Ser Garlan nodded.

Everyone confirmed the position in where their forces will be. Visenya was approving the strategy. With the trenches, fortification, and trebuchets, we have what we need to create distance between them from Winterfell.

"When the time comes, Ser Davos and I will be on the walls, to give the signal to light the trench," Tyrion said.

"No," Daenerys and I snapped.

"Ser Davos is perfectly capable of waving a torch on his own," I said. "You'll be in the Great Hall."

Tyrion glanced at Daenerys and I. As much as I am not pleased with his effort in uniting the Westernmen and Cersei in fighting in this Wall. I still need Tyrion alive for the next war after this. He was my Hand, and he knows King's Landing better than I. Despite how disappointed of him I am as of late. He was one of the critical components in reclaiming my home and bringing justice.

"Your Grace, I have fought before, I can do it again. Alongside the men and women that are risking their lives." Tyrion defended.

"You are a diplomat, not a warrior. There are thousands of them and only one of you." I disagreed. "You can't fight as well as they can, but you can think better than any of them. You're here because of your mind. If we survive, I'll need it."

"The dragons should give us an edge in the field," Ser Davos changed the subject.

"If they're in the field, they're not protecting Bran," King Snow said. "We need to be near him. Not too close or the Night King won't come. But close enough to pursue him when he does."

"Dragon fire will stop him?" Arya asked Bran.

"I don't know," Bran answered. "No one's ever tried."

"Another issue is the ice dragon," I added in which all eyes were on me. "No one has seen an ice dragon this far west in thousands of years. Bran the Builder managed to capture it to aid him in building the Wall. But it is a wild, aggressive dragon. One we are not sure is dead being controlled by the Night King or has been frozen in time for eight thousand years."

"What do you recommend?" Ser Gareth asked.

"Based on Lord Beric's and Tormund's accounts, the dragon is under the spell of the Joramun horn. Kill the Night King, and the spell will be broken."

"Does he have the horn still?" Lord Randyll asked.

"He does," Bran confirmed.

"So, we grab the horn, and the next person blows on it, controlling the beast," Lord Randyll suggested.

"Maybe so," Ser Barristan said. "However, we will need the dragons ready for what is to come."

"A war of Ice and Fire," Quaithe murmured.

Silence engulfed the room.

"We're all going to die," Tormund, the Wildling, stated out loud then looked at Lady Brienne. "But at least we die together."

"Let's get some rest, for what is to come tomorrow," Ser Barristan advice.

Everyone nodded as they made their departure. King Snow turned to Daenerys and me, giving a bow, before leaving. Daenerys was going to reach out, yet the King in the North fled as fast as a stallion. This struck my sister; however, she kept her composure, knowing what is to come. She only nodded and left with her Dothraki generals. I stared at Aggo and Kovarro, who nodded, keeping a closer eye on their Khaleesi. No doubt, my sister wants to be alone. A part of me wanted to comfort her; at the same time, a battle was about to begin.

Give her time, Visenya said.

I sighed and mentally nodded, turning my attention to Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan. Two important men who have been with me since Essos. My lover and my surrogate father. Jorah was going to be in the calvary line since he was the only man who can speak Dothraki and Common Tongue. I fear for him. Since he was going to fight in the dangerous part of the battlefield, meanwhile, Ser Barristan will be fighting in the right flank with the Stormlanders.

"Rest, Your Grace, you will need it," Ser Barristan said. "Ser Jorah, escort her grace to her chambers."

This caught Jorah off guard, yet he nodded leading the way. I looked over my shoulder, seeing Ser Barristan giving the nod before leaving through a different door. All who remain were Tyrion and Bran. We continue on our way back, keeping the façade of Queen and protector.

Once we were at the tower where our quarters were, Jorah lead me to my chambers. We stopped at the door, where Jorah will say goodbye. However, just as he was about to speak. I placed my fingers on his lips to silence him. Speaking in Dothraki:

"This could be our last night. Stay."

Jorah looked around.

"My bear and protector," I murmured, cradling his cheek. "I am yours, as you are mine."

With nothing else to say, Jorah conceded. We entered my chambers, locking the door to give us privacy. No one who isn't part of my council, Dothraki, and Unsullied will enter these parts of the castle. We headed over to the table, stripping our armor off, leaving us in our trousers and tunics.

I stepped towards him, presenting myself to him. He stood there, letting my hands go to his chest, untying the strings for his undertunic. He stood there, allowing it. Each string came undone until he rolled his shoulders, taking it off, exposing his chest. The fire from the fireplace was illuminating his scars. It looked like his skin was marred by fire, despite the fact they came from a blade. Jorah placed a hand on my cheek staring at me as he gave a soft, gentle kiss. I kissed him back, as all our composure snapped. In haste, all our clothes came off.

Jorah picked me up and I wrapped my legs around him as he carried me to the bed. The moment I was on the feather bed, he lashed his tongue over my nipple and sucked deeply. I gasped; I've missed his touch since traveling North. I raked my fingers through his hair and helped him there at my breast. All the attention he was giving, had me squirming and arching into his mouth.

When his fingers slicked between my legs and pressed firmly against the opening, another gasp escaped. Not a second longer, he inserted his fingers, causing me to rock against his hand. Jorah chuckled as he leaned up to my ear and tugged on the lobe with his teeth. He glided his fingers in and out while his thumb pressed firmly there on my swollen pearl. Grabbing the sheets, throwing my head back, arching some more, exposing my neck to him as he kissed my throat, lavishing the skin with his tongue while his fingers moved faster. Until he curled his fingers stroking a spot deep inside. I cried out, which he silences with a kiss as an orgasm took over me.

Jorah continues to move his fingers, slowing down the climax.

"Jorah," I managed to say, still lost in breath.

He adjusted my leg, shifting his thighs to press his erection against my opening. No longer wanting him far away, I gripped his shoulders and tugged him down to kiss. Hard and messy, delving deep for him. Heartbeat still thudding and fluttering. I maneuver one hand to grasp his member, causing him to groan. Turning our position, I straddle his waist and slide down his member. We both felt one and complete. Slowly I rocked upon Jorah's prone body, feeling the glide of him deep inside. His hands travel along my body, stirring magic deep inside, heighten every sense, every touch, every slick skin against skin to an intense sensation. He cupped my breast as I rode him, and moaned as my inner muscles squeezed him.

We didn't speak. We hardly speak unless it was our names — the coldness vanishing from the fire within. One hand stayed on my breast while the other slid down over to my pearl, drawing up a moan from deep within. My body shuddered, tremoring as an orgasm was fast approaching. It wasn't long until I came. Jorah took the opportunity to flip us over as he seeks his release. He was thrusting faster and harder until his member grew and twitched. On the tenth thrust, he came.

Our night did not end there, as we made love until we were satisfied.

.o0o.

The sky did not wake as usual as I stood by the windowsill, with a robe on peeking out through the drapes and cracks through the shudders. The timing candles informed it was morning. But, as I looked out through the small opening to view the outside world, the grey sky was absent and replaced by twilight. The Long Night has begun.

A pair of arms wrapped around my waist while a head rested on my shoulder. Jorah leaned in, taking a deep breath of my scent.

"You must remain on Viserion at all cost," he murmured.

"I can't promise that," I replied, placing my hand on his neck. Feeling the scar on his neck.

Jorah sighed, knowing I have a part to play in this war. King Snow, Daenerys, and I talked about it in private. Daenerys will be part of the defenses, burning the wights once the trebuchets run out of ammunition. Meanwhile, King Snow and I remained in wait for the Night King. Once he and the Ice Dragon show, we will attack trying to burn them both or at least destroy the Night King, breaking the spell and get the horn. Although, I must take Visenya's training into account…in case I need to eliminate the beast.

I turned my head slightly, staring at Jorah, who looked at me with concern. His unconditional love for me. Sometimes I wonder how a man such as he could love me both body and soul. Jorah would do anything for me. He would fight for me, kill for me, and die for me even though I don't want him to die. I don't want him to be in the calvary, the second defenses when the fortification comes down. We never exchanged the words "I love you" due to our position. But deep down, we wanted more.

Jorah leaned down and kissed me. I kissed him back, being soft and gentle. Jorah slipped off my robe, we were both naked now, our body chilled by the window and warmth from the fireplace. His erection nudged against my back buttocks. I was about to turn all the way, except he caught my wrist and turned me back, placing my hands on the windowsill. His hand glided around, cupping my breast and pinched the nipple as he dragged his erection between my clasped thighs. A wanting growl escaped him, he clenched my nipples and…oh the seven. These moments were rare, him surprising me with sex in the least expected places. Already, I was ready for him.

Drawing my heel along the side of his calf, I thrust back against him, silently begging him for entry. Jorah's hand slapped to my stomach, covering it completely, then slide down onto my hip, where he simultaneously guided himself inside, if not teasing my clit at the same time. A deep moan left my lip, my walls stretching to his size, thick by his girth, and long, penetrating deep. Jorah let out a groan, muttering in a thick Northern accent. Slowly he pulled out and pushed back in, let alone his fingers dancing over my clit.

I grasped the windowsill, feeling him buried to the hilt. In this position, I could feel him so deep. A few times, my feet were lifted off the floor as his thrust moved my entire body. He gently bit my shoulder and growled, "Not going to be able to hold off much longer."

"Jorah, don't…hold…back," I moaned, I was close as well.

His hand slapped onto the windowsill beside me. He held me pinned there on his cock as my body tremored and pumped harder. After three more thrusts, I came, my walls clenching around him as bliss took over. And then he gasped, as both of his hands were around and over my breast while pulling me against his body. He came inside, his seeds going deep.

Both of us were hunched over the windowsill, thankful for the shudders giving us privacy. At the same time, overwhelmed as our senses recover in sinful bliss. If only this weren't our possible last day together.

Afterward, we freshened up and got dressed for the day. I helped Jorah put on his armor, making sure all of his armor was secured. I will not have him injured like he was in Essos.

"You are over-worrying yourself," he murmured.

"Can I help it?" I asked.

Jorah sighed, shaking his head, knowing it was a part of me. I will always care for my people. It was part of my nature — the maternal side in me. Once done, Jorah stood up and looked at me. He cradles my cheek.

"Have faith, Alysanne," he murmured.

I nodded, "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything," he said.

"Talk to your cousin," I said. "Make amends with your family. Before it is too late."

"Alysanne," he sighed.

"Mormont," I muttered.

He smirked slightly, knowing he was stubborn. But knew he had to make amends, or it will be the end for him. He lost his mother as a child, and through the deception to false love, his home due to wife, and the consequence of losing his father and aunt. All that remains is Lyanna Mormont. It is best Jorah talks to her before the end of this night.

.o0o.

The Courtyard

Missandei's POV

Missandei was making her way back to the keep to attend to her Queen. No doubt, Alysanne will need help getting into her armor. She was nervous about what is to come but had faith in the living. As she continues walking, seeing the men prepared for what is to come. Already the morning light has vanished, night turning into twilight. She had spent the night in Grey Worms company. Cherishing each other's warmth.

Little did she know that her lover was following her.

He stopped seeing where Missandei was going. Missandei stopped noticing two girls sitting there. She came over to greet them.

"Hello," Missandei said in common tongue.

The eldest girl stood up, grabbing her sister's hand and walked away, Missandei stood there confused. She did no wrong, just a simple greeting. She let out a sighed and turned around to see Grey Worm standing there, observing what had transpired. He came over to give her support.

"When Alysanne takes her throne . . . there will be no place for us here," Grey Worm said. "I am loyal to my Queen. I will fight for her until her enemies are defeated, but when the war is over, and she has won . . ." he paused and whispered. "...do you want to grow old in this place?"

Missandei looked around. The North was different from the South. Although, her encounters with Southern Kingdoms have been on Dragonstone. A memory of a once-great empire of Valyria. Yes, she went through the library, reading books about the other kingdoms, and seeing illustrations of their castles and keeps — nothing like Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen. Yet, seeing Lord Randyll Tarly and the Northerner's behaviors towards them, she felt discouraged. Missandei keeps reminding herself she was a free woman, a friend, and confidant to the Queen using her talent to support their cause. But…after the two wars…does she want to remain by Alysanne and Daenerys' side?

"Is there nothing else you want to do, nothing else you want to see?"

The word slips from her mouth like sweet fruit, "Naath."

Grey Worm smiled, remembering Missandei talking about Naath. A peaceful paradise island, that sadly was invaded. A thought came to him; he will go anywhere where Missandei goes. And knowing their Queen, she will allow them.

"I'd like to see the beaches again," Missandei continued.

"Then I will take you there," Grey Worm promised.

"My people are peaceful," Missandei reminded. "We cannot protect ourselves."

"My people are not peaceful. We will protect you," he promised again.

Missandei smiled softly as she took his hand. She remembers Alysanne talking about working on trade with Naath. Once she is Queen and her crown secured, Alysanne would send the Unsullied who are from Naath to help protect the people. The reason why only a few outsiders come to Naath is because of the butterflies. The butterflies were poisonous, having toxins on their wings that were lethal. Causing butterfly fever. Her people were immune, believing it was the gods protecting them. Missandei also knew why, they grew up on the land eating a special fruit. If Missandei can get the fruit to Grey Worm, then he can be immune to the Butterfly fever as well.

.o0o.

Jon's POV

The evening was fast approaching. With the absence of dawn and day, they had to rely on the time candles that have been going on since the sky is no longer on his side. Jon spent most of his time on the preparation. Talking with his men and small conversations with his family. His thoughts were everywhere. Not the same the past week since Sam told him the truth of his parentage.

Aenar Targaryen.

His birth name was Aenar. He was named after the Dragonlord, who believed his daughter about the Doomed and led those who believe in setting sail for the West. Sounds fitting, since Jon did the same for the Wildlings. Sadly, Aenar and his people escaped the Doom and the eruption while Jon is facing death and ice. Complete opposites.

Another issue is his parentage. Lyanna Stark was his mother; meanwhile, his father was Rhaegar Targaryen. His parents loved each other, despite the fact that Rhaegar was married to Elia Martell and Lyanna betrothed to Robert Baratheon. Their union started a war, and he was a secret product of it. If people know the truth, …it will lead to more death.

He tried to discourage it, staring at the mirror, wondering what trait of a Targaryen is there — comparing his features to the Dragon Sisters. He doesn't have white, silver-white, or golden-white hair. His eyes were dark brown, nearly black, not a unique shade of purple. The only thing he had a common with the sisters was the pale skin, yet he disagreed. So many northern men are pale from the long winters.

Yet, it was the smaller features, not the color. His head shape was the same as Alysanne, while his nose was close to Daenerys.

When he talks to Alysanne, there was a sense of familiarity, almost when he talks to Uncle Benjen. Daenerys, on the other hand…he clenched his fist. He was starting to have feelings for Daenerys, except now things are different. She is his aunt. Incent…no, he couldn't. He knows the risk. He has seen it at Craster's with the many daughters/wives. Let alone Little Sam's development growth, the boy though healthy, he was not the size of an average four-year-old.

How can he tell them or anyone about it?

So far, only Bran, Sam, and Gilly knows about his parentage. That Rhaegar annulled his wife and married another. Jon thinks three people knew his secret is better than more. He just doesn't know what to do. He is not a bastard, never was. If only Ned had told him. Jon decided he will visit the tombs one last time to see if the ancestors can help him.

Ghost whimpered. Jon patted Ghost, knowing he has been neglecting his familiar as of late. From training the men, preparation for battle, and dragon training. It was strange; the connection he has with Rhaegal was the same as with Ghost. Then again, he was half wolf and half dragon. How ironic the dragon he is riding is named after his father. Yet Daenerys is riding Drogon named after her late husband and Alysanne riding Viserion, who is named after her brother-husband. He needs to ask Alysanne why to name a dragon after a terrible person unless there was a Targaryen in history of that origin, he is unaware of.

Footsteps could be heard as Jon looked over to see Sam.

"Have you told them yet?" Sam asked.

Jon gave him a look, "No."

Sam nodded, understanding, "Mm-Hmm. Being careful. Binding your time. Waiting for the perfect—"

Jon gave him a warning look. "I'm King in the North. Alysanne ensured that the North would be under my care."

"And she is giving you the North just like that?" Sam asked, baffled.

"She has addressed me as King, much as I don't like it," Jon muttered in the last part.

Sam found this strange, wondering why Alysanne would allow the North to have its independence. Was it her way for compensation to House Stark what the Targaryens did? It was strange what Alysanne has been doing. Based on the accounts, he thought the Dragon Queen holds more to her good ancestors. Nothing like her father. Now he feels ashamed in telling Jon's his parentage before the war.

The sound of footsteps caught their attention as the two men glanced over, noticing Edd joining the conversation. Sam found it strange to see Edd wearing the Lord Commander cloak, instead of Jon. Things inevitably change since he left Castle Black.

Edd stood between them, "And now our watch begins."

Jon nodded in agreement. Repeating the history that happens eight-thousand years ago. During the first Night Watch.

"Gilly? Little Sam?" Jon asked.

"They'll be safe in the Great Hall," Sam managed to say.

"If you want to join them…" Jon started.

Sam raised a brow as if he was insulted,

"To protect them." Jon tried to explain.

"Everyone seems to forget that I was the first man to kill a White Walker," Sam bitterly reminded. "I've killed Thenns."

"Thenn," Edd corrected.

"I've saved Gilly more than once," Sam continued. "I stole a considerable number of books from the Citadel library, survived the Fist of the First Men. You need me out there."

Another thing Sam was not mentioning is that he wanted to prove to his father and brother he was a man. He may not look like their ideal masculine figure, but Sam is a fighter.

"Well, if that's what it's come to, we really are fucked," Edd muttered.

"Well, calling you "fucked," wouldn't be strictly accurate," Sam sarcastically replied.

Jon snorted a laugh along with a chuckle. He was feeling the mirth back in their days on the Wall. He could imagine Grenn and Pyp's responses to that, hearing their laughs.

Edd shook his head, "Samwell Tarly. Slayer of White Walkers. Lover of Ladies. As if we needed any more signs, the world was ending."

Sam sighed, "Think back to where we started. Us, Grenn, Pyp."

Jon sadly nodded, "Now it's just us three."

"The last man left, burn the rest of us," Edd said.

All three of them stared out to the horizon where the forest waited. They could see the torches in the far distance. Once those torches go out, the battle begins.

.o0o.

Samwell's POV

After talking with his brothers, Sam rushed to his room, grabbing Heartsbane before searching for Ser Jorah. Heartsbane was his family's Valyrian sword. It has been in his family for a generation. But out of the three Tarly men, neither of them was worthy of wielding the sword. Sam remembered what his grandfather told him about being a man. It wasn't his strength or skill with his sword; it was about how sharp one's mind is.

Sam continued to search for Ser Jorah. Sam knew Ser Jorah being on the front line would need a sword that can easily kill a wight. Dragon glass, fire, and Valyrian steel are the only things that can kill a wight. Let alone, Lord Randyll and Dickon will be on the wall. So they wouldn't actually use Heartsbane. It's a massive sword, and the wall is indeed narrow. That was Sam's excuse.

As Sam was walking through the many steps, he stared at the courtyard and noticed his father. Lord Randyll was on the wall, getting the Tarly forces prepared for archery. He glared at Sam with a disappointed look. Sam sighed, no matter what he does, his father will always see him as a disappointed. All because of his appearance. Sam held back a snort since he has lost some weight, yet, he was still massive. At least, he felt warm compared to his brothers. But deep down, Sam knew his home was with Gilly and Little Sam. He will always love his mother and siblings. Yet Gilly and Little Sam are the only people he cares about.

That's why he needs Ser Jorah to be his hand for Heartsbane.

It wasn't long as he found Ser Jorah talking to his cousin.

Well… more like arguing.

.o0o.

Jorah's POV

"We have all we need to win this war," Jorah told his cousin.

Lyanna stood before him in her armor. A fierce young adolescent girl. If she was five years older, Jorah might have allowed her to fight. But Lyanna was still a child in his eyes. The last of House Mormont in name and blood. The last of

Joren Mormont's bloodline. Jorah would rather have his cousin in the Great Hall with all the volunteers instead out on the battlefield. To be clear, Lyanna chose to operate the gate. Making sure if there was a retreat, the gates are secured. Despite all the fortification and defenses, there is a possible chance of a retreat. Jorah truly wanted her inside and safe.

"I have trained my men, women, and children. I have fought before I can fight again." Lyanna said.

Although, she was on the sidelines during the Battle of the Bastards. Assigned to give the orders on the arches which they were sadly not used. Due to Jon's rashness to save Rickon.

Jorah tried not to get infuriated, "Please, listen to me. You're the future of our house. "

"I don't need you to remind me of that," Lyanna scolded.

"You'll be safer in the Great Hall," he tried to explain. "These things we're fighting—"

"I will not hide behind closed doors," she interrupted. "I pledged to fight for the North, and I will fight."

Jorah sighed in defeat and nodded. Lyanna was indeed a true Mormont. Stubborn as a bear. Now he wonders if this is what Alysanne dealt with. A small thought of surviving that any children he sires will act like this. Now that would be a nightmare. He looked up and noticed Sam standing there. Lyanna turned around, spotting him as well.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- " Sam started to apologize.

"It's all right," Lyanna assured him, then looked at her elder cousin. "We're done here." She started to walk toward her guards, though stopped to face Jorah, "I wish you good fortune, cousin."

This surprised Jorah not expecting it; he nodded, giving a bow, "Thank you, my lady."

Lyanna nodded and headed towards her post.

Jorah sighed and turned his attention to Sam, noticing the sword in his hand.

"What have you got there?" Jorah asked.

Sam came over, "It's called Heartsbane. It's my family sword."

"You still have a family," Jorah reminded. Since Lord Tarly and Dickon were here, and Sam's adopted family with Gilly and Little Sam. He wonders why Sam didn't give the sword back to his father. Lord Randyll used Heartsbane during Robert's Rebellion.

"Yes. And I'd love to defend them with it," Sam said, with a pause biting his bottom lip before adding. "But I can't really hold it upright. Your father, he taught me how to be a man, how to do what's right. This is right."

Jorah was baffled by this.

"It's Valyrian steel. I'd be honored if you take it." Sam said, handing it over to Jorah.

Jorah slowly held the great sword. He stared at the handle, seeing the details of forest design as the crossguard was shaped like a bow, the rain guard the arrow, while the pommel fashioned as arrow fletching. It was a two-handed handle; meanwhile, the scabbard was made of wood.

Something a warrior huntsman to have. He slides the blade out slightly, seeing the Valyrian steel, observing the fire that was trapped inside. Unlike the Targaryen Sword that showed a dragon fire or Longclaw's fire of that feral fire, Heartsbane fire in essence on the steel appeared to be that of a forest fire.

"I'll wield it in his memory…" Jorah promised as he secured the blade. "To guard the realms of men."

Sam smiled from that, "I'll see you when it's through."

Jorah nodded as he watched Sam leave, though the young man stops.

"I hope we win," Sam said, before finally leaving.

Jorah went to secured Heartsbane, though stopped when hearing footsteps.

"Are you forgetting something?" Alysanne asked.

Jorah stopped trying to think what he had forgotten before turning around to see the answer. Alysanne was holding his barbuta helmet. Next to Alysanne was Ser Barristan as he wore his barbuta helmet while holding the dragon Queen's protection. She stood before him as the reincarnation of Aegon. She was wearing a deep red gambeson, chainmail, and armor. The harness secured around her waist with the Targaryen sword strapped on. Let alone her hair pulled back in braids.

"I almost forgot," Jorah replied as he stepped forward, collecting the helmet.

He stared down at Alysanne, seeing the worry in her eyes. He couldn't blame her; he was in charge of the second defenses. The calvary, since he was the only man capable of fighting who could speak Dothraki.

"Alysanne," he started.

However, she interrupted as she stood up and kissed him. There was much love and passion that he couldn't resist as he kissed her back, wrapping his arm around her. The only thing separating them was their armor. They kissed for a moment until their lungs begged for air. As he pulled back, he panted, ignoring the curious eyes and those of disapproval.

"Come back to me," Alysanne whispered.

Jorah didn't know what to say, knowing the odds were against him. Not wanting to displease her, he cradles her cheek and pecks her forehead as he said, "As you wish."

"I love you," she said.

"And I you," he whispered.

Letting go of Alysanne, he stepped back and looked at Ser Barristan. "Protect her with all your might."

"As do you," Ser Barristan said.

Jorah nodded as he put on his helmet before getting on his horse. He joined Qhono and Aggo, leading the Dothraki generals to the battlefield. He stopped at the gate, glancing over his shoulder, knowing this will probably the last chance.

I will fight for you. Kill for you. And die for you, Jorah thought.

The gate opened, and after a second glance, he departed into the battlefield were darkness lurk.

.o0o.

Alysanne's POV

I watched him leaving into the dark abyss of the battlefield. Despite all the countermeasures the war council has made, no matter how many trenches and the fortification that was assembled. I have a feeling the dead will still make it over to fight humanity. We can only spare the men time before the battle truly begins.

A hand rested on my shoulder as I broke my trance to see Ser Barristan with a knowing look. He too once fell in love; only it was someone he could never have. Ashara Dayne, who was one a lady in waiting for Elia. Sadly, with the sacrifice from my resurrection and childhood before that, I don't remember her anymore. Only her tragic death.

"Let's head to the sept and pray one last time," Ser Barristan offered.

I nodded, knowing the Gods, both old and new, need to help us.

We headed to the small sept that was dedicated to those who worship the Seven. Apparently, Winterfell didn't worship the Seven until Lady Catelyn came, who was a devout worshiper, that Ned Stark built this shrine to honor her practices. We went to the one in the castle; it was room size where the Seven-pointed Star hung with candles lit all around. On a table were small statues of the seven: Father, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Warrior, Smith, and Stranger

I stared at the stranger; a shrouded being remembering how the god of death kissed me on the lips. Daenerys told me about her dream, her supposed encounter with the Stranger. The hymn the deity sang before putting my vessel to rest. Shuddering slightly, I step forward to the table and kneel before the gods. Resting my forehead on the stone, and my arms spread out.

I pray to each of them, for tonight, we need all Seven to lend their aid once more. I pray to the Father to give humanity justice and judge the souls who have fallen. I pray to the Mother for her strength for the women, her mercy, and save the sons in the war. I pray to the Maiden in protecting the innocent. I pray to the Crone for her wisdom. I pray to the Warrior for his strength and courage in battle. I pray to the Smith that all the dragon glass weapons are strong to destroy our enemies. And lastly, I pray to the Stranger, begging this deity to not the let the dead to rise and defeat this unknown.

"Please, my seven gods help us win this night," I prayed.

I sat up, staring at the Seven-Pointed Star. I have worshiped them, for my mother has done so. Our only time to leave the Red Keep was during prayer. Father couldn't deny worship. Otherwise, the Faith would challenge him. Now, I truly need all Seven gods to aid us once more. I glance to see Ser Barristan finishing his prayer towards the Warrior and Smith. Once he was done, he nodded as he stood up.

"Ser Barristan…" I started but couldn't finish.

"I know, your grace," Ser Barristan said.

"You've been a father figure to me since joining. I don't know what I would do if I lost you, too," I murmured.

He gave a soft smile, "After this battle, your next step is happiness."

"I don't understand," I replied.

"You will after this night," he assured as he pecked the top of my head in a fatherly way.

I nodded, staring at the Valyrian sword, seeing Dark Sister strapped to his side. Knowing he has the advantage than most knights on the battlefield.

"Aly?" Daenerys voice spoke up.

Our attentions turned to the door to see Daenerys standing there in her white fur coat. Hopefully, she was wearing her leather armor underneath it. I had spent most of the morning with Daenerys as we went over the battle strategies with the dragons. By the afternoon hours, she left with Missandei to find Jon. Based on her facial expression, I doubt she spotted him yet.

"Yes, Dany?" I replied.

"Have you seen Jon?" she asked.

"Unfortunately, I haven't," I answered.

"I think I saw him heading to the crypt," Ser Barristan replied.

Daenerys nodded.

"And girls," he started.

Both of us stared at Ser Barristan.

"Stay on your dragons no matter what," he said.

"We will," Daenerys promised. "And you be careful."

We watched Daenerys leave for the crypts. I stared at Missandei.

"Have you spoken to Grey Worm?" I asked her.

"Not since this morning," she answered.

"It's best you do so now," I advised.

Missandei nodded, seeing how urgent it was to be with her lover. She bowed, then left, leaving Ser Barristan and I in the shrine room. Hoping that the gods heard our prayer.

.o0o.

Daenerys's POV

The Crypts

After having spent time with her sister. Daenerys went in search of Jon. There were a few hours left before the battle, and she would like to spend it with Jon. She didn't understand why he was avoiding her. From the Dragon pit to the first week in Winterfell, everything seemed to find. A slow-progressing courtship. As much as she would like to rush into bed with him, she respected Jon's boundaries. Although, since this could be their last night, she wanted a chance. But she couldn't understand why he was avoiding her. What did she do wrong?

She got word that Jon was in the Crypt. Therefore, she headed there. She was told the only family of the Starks and royals were the only ones allowed in the Crypts when it is not burying the dead. She told Kovarro to wait outside, in which he nodded. Daenerys nodded as she went inside into the deep dark tomb.

A long tomb filled with Kings since the birth of Winterfell. Men were standing or sitting there with direwolves. The deeper she went, she noticed the statues no longer had direwolves, but average wolves, before there were none until spotting Jon where light from the torches was illuminating the darkness. The statues were different. They were now more detailed and refined compared to others. Although the statues no longer had wolves next to them. She also notices a change in the statues. Three statues were of women. One stood next to a second crypt. She had a crest shield by her feet of House Tully. Daenerys assumed she was Catelyn Tully, and the crypt over was her husband, Eddard Stark. The next woman was sitting attached to the crypt of a handsome male with a direwolf by his side. So, this woman was Talisa Maegyr. Lastly, Jon stood in front of the last female statue in this corridor. Unfortunately, this statue was different from the finer detailed one. As if the water smoothed out the edges.

The woman stood there; a hand reached out, holding a candle while the other clutched her chest. Her features soften, poorly carved to tell if she was a young maiden or a woman. Her hair was down, and a shawl wrapped around her shoulder. All in all, it was the complete opposite from Queen Rhaella's statue, so elegant a refine.

Jon stared at his mother statue, trying to understand what her mindset was. She was only sixteen when she met Rhaegar and seventeen when she gave birth to him. At first, Jon thought his mother was a naïve woman, yet…what little he has been told about her, holding the spirit of Arya, couldn't be so willing. So many questions he wanted to ask her. And yet, her spirit couldn't reply. Could only stare at him through stone eyes.

The sound of steps caught Jon's attention as he glanced over. It was Daenerys. As she came over, wrapping her arms around him. So many thoughts were lingering in his head, that the women he truly liked with after Ygritte, was actually his aunt.

"Who's that?" She asked.

Jon hesitated before answering, "Lyanna Stark."

Daenerys tensed. She did not know the full story. All she knew about Lyanna Stark was that she was the woman her eldest brother fell for and started a war. She stared at Jon, confused, noticing his eyes were watery. Maybe there was something she missed. Viserys spoke ill about Lyanna. Alysanne was quiet about her, saying, "There's more to the story we were unaware of." And Ser Barristan tried to explain but couldn't.

"My brother Rhaegar . . . everyone told me he was decent and kind. He liked to sing. Gave money to poor children. And he raped her." Daenerys said, staring at the statue.

"He didn't," Jon whispered, eyes still locked on Lyanna's statue. "He loved her."

He turned his attention to Daenerys, holding her hands.

"They were married in secret," he explained. "After Rhaegar fell on the Trident, she had a son. Robert would have murdered the baby if he ever found out, and Lyanna knew it. So… the last thing she did, as she bled to death on her birthing bed was give the boy to her brother . . . Ned Stark...to raise as his bastard."

Daenerys's eyes widen as she comprehended his words.

"My name . . . my real name . . . is Aenar Targaryen." Jon announced.

Daenerys exhaled sharply, pulling away. Comprehending the truth that he was telling her. The other side of the same coin of truth. The missing side. One that would change everything Westeros has known. The War, a war that could have been prevented, and the Targaryen bloodline were still intact. All of it based on a lie — an act of love destroying an entire continent.

Everything that she has known was a lie. Here she stood facing her nephew. All this time, she thought there were four Targaryens left when she was a child: Aemon, Viserys, Alysanne, and herself. Aemon died from age, Viserys killed by Drogon, leaving her and Alysanne. Then Alysanne told her about a distant relative…Bloodraven, who has lived centuries beyond the Wall, only to die and asked Bran to return the sword. Once more, leaving the girls abandoned. And now, Jon is telling her his deepest secret.

Basically, everything she and Alysanne had done in the campaign for Westeros was done for nothing. A part of her had wished they stayed in Essos. Alysanne ruling the Ghiscari province, while she ran the Dothraki Sea. However, it was the vision of the Long Night that brought them here. Fighting in the Great War, and receiving the Iron Throne was their reward.

Unfortunately, with this patriarchal society, a woman is second from inheritance.

"That's impossible," Daenerys said. Thinking that if the facts are true, then Jon would still be a bastard. Since Rhaegar was married to Elia.

"I wish it were," Jon confessed.

"Who told you this?" she asked.

"Bran," Jon answered. "He saw it."

"He saw it?" she asked.

"And Samwell confirmed it," he added. "Gilly read about their marriage at the Citadel to Sam without even knowing what it meant. He divorced Elia and married Lyanna on the same day."

"A secret no one in the world knew... except your brother and your best friend," she sneered. "Doesn't it seem strange to you?

Jon stepped closer, "It's true, Dany. I know it is."

Daenerys paused, staring at his dark eyes, seeing the truth. She just had a hard time believing it.

"If it were true, it would make you the last male heir of House Targaryen," She said. "You'd have a claim to the Iron Throne."

Before Jon could explain that he doesn't want it, the blaring of the horn caught his attention. Immediately, Jon and Daenerys left the crypt and headed to the Northside of the wall, facing the battlefield. Alysanne and Tyrion stood there in a deep trance, watching the men get into formation. All four of them stared out into the battlefield. The towers that had the torches in the forest were extinguished.

"It's time," Alysanne said.

Jon looked at Daenerys, who nodded. With nothing else to say, all three of them left to join their dragons who waited at the south gate. Tyrion watched them leave, sensing some tension between the young couple. He hopes this tension doesn't affect the plan.

He then stared ahead.

The Long Night has begun.


Next chapter is the Long Night.

OMG this is my longest chapter so far, reaching over 8000 words.

I can't we have made it this far. It has not been a complete year yet. I thank you so much in reading this story. Also don't forget to leave a review. We are almost at 1000 reviews!