Sister's Keeper

Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones


Chapter 87: We Need to Talk

Alysanne's POV

"You must wake," Ser Barristan said.

I turned around after petting Viserion, "Will I ever see you again?"

Ser Barristan stepped forward as he rested his hand over my heart, "I shall always be with you. You may not see me. You may not hear me. But I will always be there."

"I will name a son after you," I promised.

"I doubt Jorah would approve," Ser Barristan chuckled.

I stared at him confused. Ser Barristan cradled my cheek, staring deep into my eyes. He was the third father to me. An advisor, mentor, friend, and father. The only person I had left of my childhood—a protector from afar.

"No matter what, find happiness," he whispered. "However, there will be one more suffering before you reach true happiness."

"What is that that will bring sorrow?" I asked.

"I cannot say, but when it does happen, remember who you are not what they expect you to become," he added.

I tried to speak lost for words.

"Tell Daenerys she is not to blame herself for my death. I died with honor," Ser Barristan leaned down and pecked my forehead. "Farewell, my daughter. There shall be a rebirth for all."

Before I could speak, I felt the pull of waking. I reached out, not wanting to say goodbye. Yet Ser Barristan stood there with a smile as reality took hold.

.o0o.

My eyes fluttered, trying to gain strength to open. Using my other senses, my location was warm—the sound of a fire crackling off in the distance, along with two people softly talking. The warmth of blankets and furs on top while a bed underneath. The scent of blood, herbs, and wood filled the air. My body felt sore, my left arm tied to my chest. My right ankle elevated up.

I groaned, my body shifting from discomfort.

The voices went silent, as footsteps followed. Not a second longer, someone took my right hand. It took me a moment to recognize those calloused fingers.

"Jorah?" I mumbled.

"I'm here," Jorah assured, squeezing my hand.

"Easy, Dragoness, you struck your head hard, so your sight is not strong," a female voice said. It was the Shadowbinder, Quaithe.

"What happened?" I mumbled my voice hoarse.

"Help her sit," Quaithe said.

Strong hands carefully helped me sit up while a cup was brought to my lips.

"Drink this," Quaithe said. "Tis but water."

I was hesitant, yet my throat and mouth were dry. Slowly I drank it.

"During your confrontation with the Ice Dragon, you struck the beast in the heart. The collision caused you to fall, in which Viserion caught you, but crashed in the Wolfswood." Quaithe explained. "You suffered physical trauma and used a lot of dragon magic. Death was near, but Ser Jorah and I managed to stop it."

"The . . . Dead?" I asked.

"Gone," Jorah answered. "Jon killed the Night King breaking the curse. We have won."

I squeezed his hand, "Dany?"

"She is alive, along with Missandei and Grey Worm," he confirmed. "However, Ser Barristan did not make it."

"He died… protecting… Dany," I said.

Jorah tensed, wondering how I know.

"Ser Barristan came to her," Quaithe said.

Slowly my eyes grew stronger as I open my lids. The world was still hazy, spinning slightly. The room was dimmed, as the only light has given was from the fireplace. I groaned for everything still hurts from this massive migraine.

"Easy," Jorah murmured. "Do not push yourself."

"I shall make fresh tea to ease the pain," Quaithe announced.

She walked over to the fireplace.

I continued to hold on to Jorah's hand, "I'm sorry."

"I won't say I was pleased about it," he murmured. "But I understand, you did it to protect everyone."

I nodded slowly.

"Just don't do it again," he warned.

"Not… planning on it," I muttered. "One Ice Dragon …is enough."

Jorah nodded in agreement, "They are calling you Dragon Slayer."

I scowled at such a name. "A dragon of fire… is not the same as a dragon of ice."

"Agreed," he said. "Varys is trying to whisper a better title."

"The dragons?" I asked.

"All three are injured and are being tended to. Viserion and Rhaegal will have a longer recovery," He reported. "But now you need to rest."

"No…there are people I need to talk too," I said.

Ser Barristan wanted me to seek forgiveness. Ever since arriving in the North, I haven't been courteous towards my council. I've treated Tyrion poorly the moment I saw Ser Jaime. I knew Cersei wouldn't send her army. However, the moment I saw Ser Jaime arrive, all the negative emotions, the dark trauma, and manipulation stirred. The man who killed my Father and let my family be slaughtered. After talking with Ser Jaime, getting the truth, I realized I need to let the past go. I will always love my mother, Elia, Rhaenys, and Aegon. I shall honor Rhaegar in the man he almost became to be while respecting Viserys and Father since trauma and jealousy lead them to madness. They are dead. Nothing can bring them back. Not even my distant uncles who have perished by age and magic.

The only family I had left was Dany and . . . Jon. My nephew, who has been separated from us because of King Robert. Bastard or not, he is still my blood. Let alone a possible family of my own as I held onto the hand who could provide it. Therefore, I need to make amends with my council. If I am to be Queen, I need to respect my council. The Mad King didn't, and they betrayed him. Therefore, I must not hold the same disregard.

"You will, once you have gained your strength," he assured me.

"How long… have I've been out?" I asked.

"Two days," he answered. "There shall be a funeral tomorrow."

"I must attend," I said.

"And you shall, but you must rest." He insisted,

Quaithe returned as she pressed the cup against my lips, "Drink. It shall take the pain away."

Unable to resist, I took a few sips. My strength was leaving me as I fell asleep again while holding onto Jorah's hand.

.o0o.

Jorah's POV

Jorah watched as Alysanne fell unconscious. The sweat covered her body from the fever she had. Fortunately, the fever has broken. Thanks to the marking from Quaithe painting that covered her skin. Whatever magic Quaithe did saved his beloved. As much as he doesn't trust magic.

"In a few hours, she will wake and gain more strength," Quaithe assured.

"Will there be any more death for her?" Jorah asked.

"There is but one," Quaithe said. "And that death will happen surrounded by her children and grandchildren."

Jorah sighed in relief, knowing Alysanne will not die so soon.

"However, there is one suffering she must endure," Quaithe added. "One, you must be there when it happens."

"And what will happen?" he asked.

"I cannot say," she answered.

Jorah sighed, for there has been enough death and suffering. Alysanne did not need anymore. He sighed yet again, as he adjusted Alysanne in a comfortable position. Afterward, he sat down. Bandages cover his arm, along with ointment on his cheek. By the gods and the Qohorik Smith in crafting his armor protected him. Any of his previous armor would have him killed.

There is a time for recovering and mourning. No one is ready for another battle. The Night King has weakened everyone. Their numbers have dwindled, the Dothraki suffering the most. So, heading South now is not advisable. Hopefully, Alysanne can see that. Especially with the damage, he could see. Bruises were covering Alysanne's body. Bandages around her torso where a laceration was. How she was not dead is a miracle since Alysanne had inherited her mother's condition.

Unless, of course, Alysanne no longer desires to be Queen of Westeros. He knew of his lover's deepest desire, how she dreamt of being married to a man she loves, a family, and simple life. Not a life of looking over her shoulder in fear. If Alysanne prefers that life, he will honor it. If she wants to be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms or Meereen, he will stand by her side. All that matters is her happiness and health. The only thing that had held her back was the Second-Long Night. Now that is over; it is time to move on.

No doubt, House Targaryen has redeemed itself. At least in the North.

Jorah remained where he was—dozing off now and then. He hardly gets enough sleep. When Quaithe finished saving Alysanne's life, he had been by her side. He hardly left unless to update Daenerys and the Small Council. He could hear Quaithe wandered around the room, on occasion, checking Alysanne's condition.

He wonders why Quaithe has helped them throughout these years. Since Qarth, they were strangers.

Quaithe warned them of the Warlocks and told them where the dragons where. The second time, at the Orange Shores, where the Shadowbinder told him of Alysanne's curse, dying by the Warlocks sleep spell. With her magic, he managed to guide Alysanne in the right direction and postpone the Greyscale. And lastly, Quaithe arrived with the Fiery Hand and Melisandre. She used Shadow magic to aid the living and saved Alysanne once more. Why? Why did she do all this? What is there to gain.

Was it the prophecy he kept hearing in Volantis?

"The Seed of Ice for the Womb of Fire. A dynasty like no other."

It was clear Alysanne was the Womb of Fire.

But who is the Seed of Ice?

This union will become a better dynasty.

The future is undetermined. All that matters is surviving.

It would be a few hours before Alysanne woke up. Her sight better, yet the exhausted still remains. She asked him to get Tyrion first. He was surprised, thinking she wanted to speak with Daenerys, but he understood. So, getting up, he left the room while Quaithe got her decent, which he appreciates since he doesn't like seeing his lover exposed to other men despite her being Valyrian descent.

He headed downstairs to Tyrion's room, knocking on the door. It took a few moments before Tyrion answered the door.

"She wants to speak with you," Jorah said.

Tyrion's eyes widen," She's awake?"

"She is, but don't excite her," he warned.

Tyrion nodded, not wanting to overwhelm the Queen in her state.

.o0o.

Alysanne's POV

Quaithe helped me put on my robe and my hair in a loose braid. I noticed it was late in the hour, yet I have a feeling Tyrion was still awake. There was a knock on the door. Securing my robe and sitting up straight, I stared at the door.

"Enter," I said.

The door opened as Tyrion entered with Jorah. Tyrion seemed nervous, afraid I would strip his title as Hand of the Queen. My behavior has not been appropriate towards him since Ser Jaime's arrival. The two came over, as Jorah sat down though gave space while Tyrion came forward.

"Your Grace," Tyrion said with a bow. "You've summoned me."

"Yes," I said, taking a deep breath. "Tyrion, I owe you an apology."

This baffled Tyrion, not expecting it, "For what, your Grace?"

"For my behavior towards you, it was not appropriate," I explained.

"Your Grace, I have failed you as your Hand. You had every right to be upset with me. I should've known Cersei would not send her army and leave us for the slaughter," he said.

I shook my head, "I knew your sister wouldn't send her army."

His eyes widen.

"She held the same look the Three Masters did," I said. "But when I saw your brother, I just snapped. I ask for your forgiveness. It is not how I want to act as Queen."

Tyrion came over and took my hand, "Apology accepted. You being aware of your flaws shows you are a better ruler."

I nodded, giving a small smile.

"It will take some time before we plan ahead," I said. "A council meeting the day after tomorrow."

Tyrion nodded, "I shall let the others know."

"And Tyrion, I will need that brain of yours," I said.

Tyrion nodded in understanding. Although, I'm not sure if I want to continue the path as Queen. My destiny was to fight in the Long Night. Now that the Army of the Dead has been defeated. I'm not sure if I wanted to be Queen. However, I made a promise to several houses that I would. Let alone; there is a tyrant Queen who needs to be removed. It was clear that Cersei Lannister has no claim or right to the Iron Throne. She has slaughtered thousands of people because of her secret. Therefore, she must face her crimes.

But the question should be who takes the Iron Throne…

In other words, I need to have a talk with Jon and Daenerys.

A serious talk.

.o0o.

It would be a few more hours later in the morning hours when Daenerys and Jon arrived. In the room were the only person who knows Jon's secret. Only Jon, Daenerys, Jorah and , Tyrion, and Quaithe were excluded from the conversion. But I have a feeling the Shadowbiner knows from her clairvoyant abilities.

Not even a second, once in the room, Daenerys rushed over, giving me a hug. I groan, feeling pain around my ribs from her bear hug. Immediately, Daenerys pulled back, "Sorry."

"It's alright," I groaned. "I'm just not durable right now."

Daenerys gave a smile as she sat on the bed, taking my good hand. My attention turned to Jon, seeing he was exhausted. A nice cut on his right cheek and bruising around his neck. The Dragon Spells had an effect as well, seeing the possible damage Rhaegal went through. In the end, I still saw my brother standing there despite his coloring.

"What we are about to say, stays between the four us until a decision is made," I said, which everyone nodded.

"As you may have known, when the Warlocks poisoned me, my soul was sent to the Veil in which I encounter Rhaegar. Ser Jorah, was there, as he saw the last dragon. His face etched in our memory. Before we returned to the living, his last words to me were," 'There are three dragons left in the world. The last three Targaryens.' And now the last three dragons are in this room. However, I do not know the details on you Jon. So tell me, how did you come to find out about your parentage?"

Jon took a deep breath, "My brother Bran saw it in the past while my friend Sam confirmed it in a Septon's journal. Daenerys already knows…Rhaegar and Lyanna are my parents. Rhaegar had an annulment with Elia Martel and married Lyanna in secret. My real name is Aenar Targaryen."

I inhaled sharply for the betrayal Elia went through. All because Rhaegaar craved to have three children. A second daughter, his own Visenya. However, the gods gave him a son. A war due to the wood witch's prophecy. The Prince that was promised.

"You are my blood, and therefore my nephew," I said. "And now the questions come to the line of succession. By the laws of men, a son comes first before the daughter."

Jon stepped forward, "Alysanne, I . . . I do not want to be King of the Seven Kingdoms. All my life has been a lie. As much as it pleases me to know I am not a bastard . . . I cannot take what doesn't feel my own right. You and Daenerys fought this way to come back home. And here I am, stepping in the way."

"You don't want the Seven Kingdoms?" Jorah asked.

"No, I don't," Jon answered. "All I care about is the North and my family…the Starks."

"But we are your family now," Daenerys said.

"Dany …it's too much to grasp under short notice," Jon tried to reason.

"That brings up another thing," I said, getting their attention.

All eyes were on me.

"When Viserys died, I made a sacred vow to the gods that House Targaryen will never perform incest again. I swore to our ancestors in the Veil as well. A promise I must forever keep." I said, staring sternly into the young couple. "Whatever relationship you two have, must come to an end."

"Alys," Daenerys begged.

"I mean it," I scolded. "Incest leads to three paths: Medical complication, infertility, or madness. I have the same blood disorder as mother, Daenerys. She also dealt with fertility problems that lead to nine miscarriages. Five Targaryens became mad. Although most were driven into madness, there are those born with it. Therefore, this affair needs to stop. You can love each other as family, but nothing more."

Daenerys eyes widen, for she knows I was serious. Incest has ruined me. My fertility is complicated. I bruise easily and take longer to heal. I was forced into an incestual marriage that lead to nothing but abuse. I know Jon is a better man than Viserys. However, he is still my family's blood. The same blood of my parents lingers in his veins. If Jon had been a cousin, maybe I would have allowed. In the end, he is my nephew. There have been Targaryens that married their nephews and nieces. Yet, in order to break the curse, new blood must join in.

"I'm sorry," I said. "And if you do consider it. I will never approve or allow this union."

Daenerys looked down. She remembers back in our campaign, where I told her I would allow her to love whoever she wanted. But I will have the final say in the marriage since I was the head of House Targaryen until now. And even though Jon can veto me, being the male heir, I have the advantage of being the face of House Targaryen. Unless Jon makes his true identity known, the only way House Targaryen can gain the respect of the people is to put an end on the practice of incest.

"Very well," Jon agreed.

Daenerys eyes widen. No doubt she was hurt by this. But she needs to understand where we are coming from. As much we can love some with romantic infatuations, there needs to be boundaries. I'm trying to save our bloodline. So there can be no more Mad Kings or women who go through complications.

"But I have to tell my family," Jon added.

Daenerys and I looked at him.

"You can't," Daenerys nearly barked.

"They are my family," Jon defended. "They have the right to know. They've been a victim of this secret as we have."

"I understand and I respect your decision. I only have one request," I said.

Jon stared at me, listening.

"I ask that you wait until Daenerys and I reclaim King's Landing." I said. "The majority of our life, we never had a home. Travel from one city to another. Our home has been taken from us. So, I ask that you wait to tell your sisters, once we take back King's Landing."

The White Wolf paused, taking a moment to hear my request. The only response was a nod and saying, "You have my word."

I want to secure the Iron Throne before the truth comes out. Although now the secret has known to six people. It must remain like this until we can figure this out. In the end, the Targaryen Dynasty shall return. With a dragon in the North and one in the South.

"We will discuss more later," Jon said. "We need to prepare for the next step."


We all nodded.

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