A/N: Longclaw: Sorry for the long wait. Lot of stuff going on. Got a new job and started med school interviews, but we're here now.

Bruh: Ooh, it's been a while, over a month, right? Hope y'all keep coming back. I personally have been swamped with things to do recently. But we're here now.

Enjoy.

Chapter 51: Never Forget Who You Are

"Slaves! Cockless slaves!"

"Go back to the Lysene pleasure houses where you belong!"

"Savages! Fuck your horses somewhere else!"

Grey Worm felt relieved that most of the Dothraki didn't speak the common tongue beyond a few obvious phrases related to food, drink, and how to purchase a whore for the evening. Or else it would've been impossible to control them from advancing from his prepared position. Five thousand men, two thousand of his crack Unsullied and the remainder being Dothraki cavalry, were deployed outside of castle Rosby, not wishing to be bogged down in a siege or watch as Stannis' raiding force would march around them.

This was clearly no raiding force though. Ten thousand Vale knights and Reach men-at-arms, an invasion force. Grey Worm figured they were going after the two keeps as part of a bargaining ploy, aggressive negotiations now that Jon Stark had returned to Dragonstone - he may have been a slave but knew enough about a military strategy to piece it together.

All attempts by him to contact the commander, one Lyn Corbray, were met by the arrogant demand, 'Have your fellow women run a bath for me, seeing as you have no stones in a fight.'

An Unsullied wasn't supposed to feel emotion but damned if Grey Worm wasn't looking forward to bringing the wrath of the Dragon Queen upon the arrogant Andals.

Suddenly, out of the mass of cavalry rode a lone rider. He was in full armor and mounted upon a massive stallion, lance in one hand, shield in another, and morningstar slung across his back. "Cowards! Cockless ladies!" he bellowed derisively. "If there's anyone of you that considers himself a man, come fight me! Prove your worth to your whore of a Queen!"

Undoubtedly, some of the Dothraki would jump at the chance to earn everlasting glory, but out of formation marched an irate Grey Worm - eyes blazing underneath his helm. "Better no cock and victory than limp cock and defeat!" he shouted in a horrible mash of the common tongue, but the point was soon gotten across as the enemy line murmured and the rider charged with a furious bellow. Lance leveled and aimed for the now crouching Grey Worm…

With a nimbleness drilled into him by men so brutal that would make the thugs he faced that day look like mere children pulling the wings off flies, Grey Worm swept around in a full arc and found himself several paces to the side of the path of the horse. Out stabbed his spear, running through the shoulder of the horse and sending the screaming beast toppling to the ground. The rider was thrown off several feet away. Scrambling to his feet - no mean feat in his heavy armor - he tried to grab at his morningstar but found Grey Worm's spear piercing through his neck. Killing him in a pool of his own blood.

The contest of personal combat was over, and the victory remained with the army of the Dragon Queen. Unsullied spears smacked against the ground while the Dothraki screamed their war cries in triumph, their turn to taunt.

Lyn Corbray, the heir to Heart's Home in the Vale, was nevertheless confident. They had the numbers and cavalry superiority. The narrowness of the field would prevent the slaves and savages from escaping. Giving his command, the horns blew and the archers advance.

Longbowmen of the Vale were some of the best in the Realm, and their initial barrage was devastating against the Unsullied and Dothraki - the former used their shields for protection while the latter were unarmored and suffered losses. Horse Archers broke formation and rode in arcs ahead of their line, loosing return volleys on their equally powerful compound bows. A vast cloud of missiles filled the air and many men were falling on both sides, but the wind was shifting - blowing hard to the west. The greater force of their arrows and greater numbers were negated for the forces of the Stag King, while the wind gave the Dothraki extra punching power and began to take its toll.

Enraged, Corbray ordered the archers back and commanded the cavalry to charge.

The first wave of the Vale knights was directed against the Dothraki lancers Grey Worm's left. Crossing several prepared ditches dug by the Unsullied and castle smallfolk in the past weeks, though said ditches slowed the charge it did not stop it. Causing the Dothraki to be pushed back as dozens were torn apart and the rest locked into a powerful melee.

The Dothraki could've broken, but the intervention of a pre-planned flank screen of Second Sons light horse attacking from the interior of the Targaryen line, not to mention three hundred Unsullied packed into a tight phalanx attacking out of ambush from the opposite side, forced the Valemen to fall back, momentum was broken and now on the defensive.

On the lighter Dothraki cavalry on the right of the Targaryen army, they met the heaviest knights of House Royce, House Arryn, and House Belmore that crashed into them. Causing hundreds of casualties and whose heavy lances gave a reach that arakhs couldn't.

But just at the cusp of a breakthrough, a hastily assembled force of five hundred Unsullied from the center of the line counterattacked, led by their own commander.

Drums blaring, the shield wall shuddered as it crashed into the flank of the knights. Grey Worm took a mace to his shield, his arm feeling as if stabbed but the Unsullied was ignorant of pain. He bashed the mace aside and stabbed upward through the chest of the knight, who toppled from the mount. Another charged at him but Grey Worm tossed his spear, knocking him backward just as the stallion barrelled into one of the other Unsullied.

An arrow hit the commander in the shoulder, which Grey Worm snapped off at the base and drew his short sword, urging his men forward.

The counterattack split the second Vale attack, scything through the trapped portion and slaughtering them as the Dothraki horse archers added their weight to the mix. Their commander, the heir to Lord Belmore, fell dead as did over a thousand of the knights and their attended mounted men-at-arms with the rest fleeing. Joined by Lyn Corbray and the remaining infantry who knew a defeat when they saw it.

Dothraki cheered mightily, knowing their braids would grow larger, while the spearshafts smacked against the ground for the Unsullied. They had met the enemy and they were theirs.

Grey Worm, hauled back to the healer's tent where several Dothraki women tended to his wounds - all superficial and likely to heal by the end of the moon - called over the maester of the castle. A raven was quickly sent out to Dragonstone detailing the victory.

Rosby had held, and with it, the initiative in negotiations shifted back to the Dragon Queen.

Face set in barely contained anger, Stannis ripped apart the dispatch. "Insolent young fool," he hissed, close to shaking. "If he's going to try and win my fucking favor by going after my enemies, he should at least fucking win."

"I have already relieved him of command, your Grace," informed Randyll Tarly. "I'd have sent him packing if he wasn't so well respected by the Valemen."

Stannis waved him off. "Whatever, I just need them following my fucking orders." He took a gulp of wine, trying to calm his nerves. "You go take command of the army."

Randyll blinked. "Me, your Grace?"

"Aye, you. I know you'll both competently handle the Dragon Queen's armies and not give her any excuses to think I am an aggressor against the ceasefire. Go on." Randyll rose, nodded, and strode out. Stannis sighed. "Did the latest dispatch from Lord Stark come in?"

"Right here, your Grace." With Randyll gone, it was just Davos and Baelish there. The former handed Stannis the dispatch. "Received it this morning."

Taking it, Stannis perused it quickly.

Your Grace,

Matters continue slowly. The Dragon Queen still seems enamored with me, though her advisors seek to keep me at a distance - especially this foreign woman. A freed slave that is her translator and handmaiden. But I continue to make progress.

In negotiation, my main rivals are Ser Barristan and Lord Tyrion, but Daenerys Targaryen is also stubborn. She wants the throne and will not back down from it.

Stannis was about to rip up the letter in frustration before he found the next line.

However, one avenue has found some interest. The Queen seems increasingly amenable to a compromise where you rule for the remainder of her life, she succeeds you as your official heir, and your heir and hers are betrothed to combine both your lines.

I will continue to inform you, but I implore that you consider this so that the united front against the Dead can be obtained.

Jon Stark

Lord of Winterfell

Anger… slightly mollified by a surreal calm, Stannis handed the opened letter to his Hand and former Hand to look over, sitting quietly with his thoughts in a jumble. When Littlefinger finished, he spoke up first. "How can we be sure this is truthful?"

"Jon wouldn't lie," was Davos' first response. "He's too much like his father."

"That may be, but what about the others? Daenerys Targaryen has every incentive to lie."

"Yet she's enamored with Jon. Women tend to be emotional about these things." Davos looked to his King. "Would you be willing to make Daenerys your heir?"

He looked up. "My heir… I have no proper heir at the moment - Shireen… I'm not sure she's cut out to rule, let alone face down the Dragon Queen herself." He pinched his brow, thinking of hiers. Of another chance… "I'll think about it. Inform Jon that I will not give up the Iron Throne while I live. The rest for now is up to him." He rose from his chair, leg not needing his cane but he avoided putting too much weight on it.

He left the room, limping just a bit. Baelish followed close behind. He continued to talk at Stannis but he sort of tuned him out. Only being able to focus on one thing in particular. Though perhaps he should push it out of his mind.

Stannis walked past the guards standing by the door. Then stopped, he had thought he might wait until later before visiting Tyene. Instead, something told him he should see her now. He turned back around. Littlefinger called after him, "Your Grace?"

"Go on, Baelish," Stannis said, waving him off. "I'll see you later." Littlefinger watched Stannis walk back over to the guards for a few moments. When he noticed Stannis start to turn back to him he quickly moved off.

The Stag didn't turn back to the guardsmen until he was sure Littlefinger was gone. One of the guards cleared his throat, "Your Grace?"

The other guard said, "Would you like to enter?"

"Bloody of course, why else would I be standing here?" Stannis huffed. The two of them stepped out of his way rather briskly. Stannis rested his hand on the handle and took a deep breath before going inside. Once in, he found Tyene sitting calmly at a table in the middle of her room. Dimly lit, a few candles on the table, the shutters fastened on the windows.

She looked absolutely beautiful.

Tyene spoke up, "I thought you might come."

Stannis shook his head as if confused. Though he gathered his senses. "Well, I was close by. Figured I'd stop in to see if you'd come to a decision."

Tyene rested her hands on the tabletop, fingers interlocked, "Hmm… I see."

Stannis had met a few women in his day that truly had the ability to transfix him. Tyene was one of them. There was something about her Martell beauty for sure. Yet, she was sharp. He sensed a smart brain between her ears. She was very alluring to him.

Tyene picked up on that rather easily. She knew a man that lusted for her. She'd seen it many times. However, receiving it from a King was very different from a drunkard at a tavern. "Before I tell you my decision, I have one question."

Stannis moved forward, taking a seat at the table across from her. "Yes? What is it?"

"Do you wish to marry me purely to keep Arianne from fighting on Daenerys' side? Or do you wish to marry me for my beauty?"

Stannis replied, simply, "Both. You are a beautiful woman. Any man would wish to marry you. I am glad to be that man. One of the reasons why is because I am quite taken by you, yes. I'll be honest. But the fact that it takes Arianne out of the coming conflict with the Dragon Queen is a big factor. It's a bonus that you're beautiful, frankly."

Tyene thought about speaking but Stannis continued, "I would have offered marriage even if you weren't beautiful if that's what you're asking. It's not the most important thing to me."

"What is?" Tyene asked. "The most important thing?"

Stannis paused, pondering his next words carefully. He gathered that this conversation weighs heavily on her decision. "I married once for duty, already. Selyse. I was supposed to marry her so I did. She gave me a child. Shireen. But I never truly loved her. She only wanted to serve me…"

"Where are you going with this?" Tyene cut in.

"It's true. The reason I offer marriage to you is because of the alliance. However, that's not the only reason. I want an heir. But there are many women who would line up for that opportunity. I want it to be you."

"So it's still for duty."

"Yes, but it's also because you would provide me with a stronger heir. The Martell blood in you is strong, raging even. That with the power of my blood… a strong heir indeed. I'd very much prefer to have you at my side than some high born I chose out of a line," Stannis scoffed.

"I understand."

"But again, I leave it up to you," Stannis added. "You have a choice. I will not force you. I am a better man than that. And should you choose to marry me. I think you'll find it better than you expect."

Tyene sat silent. She let him think she was truly thinking hard. Though she'd made her mind up a few minutes ago. Logically, there was only one choice. She'd lived under horrible circumstances for a long time. Going back to something similar wasn't appealing. She'd slept in enough cells in her day.

While the idea of going against her House, in a way, perturbed her. She felt that Arianne would understand. If she'd listen to the reason why Tyene decided the way she did. Though, deep down, she wished her father wasn't ashamed.

"I accept."

Stannis clapped his hands and grinned, "This is great news." He rose from his chair, going around to her. He held his palm out to her. She gave her hand to him. Stannis brought the back of her hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss there.

Tyene's face was mostly expressionless, looking up at him. However, she could sense his feelings might be genuine.

"Honestly," Stannis began, standing back up. "I have felt little joy in these few weeks. Though, knowing I shall have you as my bride." He exhaled. "It's a pleasant feeling."

"I do have some terms," Tyene said.

Stannis stiffened, but only for a moment. He returned to his chair. "Naturally. What do you have in mind?"

Tyene sucked in a breath. Her bargaining position was… frankly horrible, but if her supposed groom had genuine feelings then she may be able to extract some form of comfort for herself. "Nothing erratic. When you send word back to my homeland of the news of our marriage, I would like my ladies in waiting to be sent to me from Dorne. I do not want any women from here."

Stannis shrugged, "That isn't a problem, should your cousin cooperate."

"She will… we're… all we have left." There were her youngest sisters, but that was about it for House Martell. "I would also like my household to reside in the maidenvault."

That did make Stannis sit forward, "Separate from me?"

Tyene nodded, "Yes. But don't shake your head. I will do my duty when asked… nicely."

Stannis sat back again, scratching his chin. He pondered on it. It wasn't a big deal to him. Didn't matter at all, really. But he wanted to make her think it was to him. He could care less where she slept. As long as she did her duty to him and carried his child. He cleared his throat, "Yes, that's fine. Anything else?"

Tyene raised her eyebrows. In truth, that last bit was a total shot in the dark. She didn't expect it to be granted. His giving her that did grant her some relief. The idea of spending every night with him was not an overjoying thought. "Good."

"That's all you require?"

"Oh… One more thing," Tyene said, raising her finger. "I would like to be the one who slashes Euron Greyjoy's throat."

Stannis chuckled, "Well, dear, I am pleased by your thirst for justice. He has wronged you. He should pay for that. However, it is not like I shall call for his head just because you bid it. He serves a purpose to me now. He's useful. Now… when that use runs its course, you may have him."

"That is all I ask."

"So, it's settled then?"

"Yes, I agree to marry you."

"Good," Stannis rose from his chair again. "Well, one of my terms I require is that we are married as soon as possible. I'm not one for a dramatic affair. Not like Robert. We will have a subtle ceremony by the end of the week. Fine?"

"It will have to do," Tyene sighed.

"Wonderful," Stannis said, walking over to her chair. He brushed his finger under her chin, easing her to look up at him. "This may not be as horrible as you might think. I can be a gentleman. I will not harm you." He did try to be convincing because he did mean it.

Tyene's eyes softened, "See that you don't. I am still a Sand Viper."

"Oh," Stannis smirked, taking his finger away. "I know." He strolled over to the door. "I know full well." He opened the door and stepped halfway out then stopped. "Oh, do you wish me to invite your House? To the wedding?"

Tyene hesitated, but answered, "Yes, I haven't seen my family in a very long time."

"I see," Stannis replied. "It will be done." He shut the door behind him, leaving Tyene by herself. She thought things could be much, much worse.

"Don't tell me to calm down, Jon!"

Wincing, Jon ran a hand through his hair as his lover stared out the window at the storm outside, a barrage of rain that assaulted the island stronghold suddenly. Truthfully, it fit the mood Daenerys was in. "Dany… just take a deep breath for a moment. Rash action does not solve anything…"

"It wasn't your men that died outside of Rosby! It wasn't one of your closest allies that were wounded and could've died." She turned, violet eyes near black with fury. "All of this so Stannis could achieve some sort of better leverage over me?!"

When the news came that a large force of Stannis' army had attacked Rosby, Jon had been shocked. Stannis was a hard man and a brilliant commander but there was no logic to it. He wouldn't gain much, for Duskendale the seat of House Rosby was not.

"I can't be certain Stannis gave the order."

Turning on her heels to face him, Daenerys was quite petite but seemed to tower over everything in her draconic fury. "Oh, you're defending him now?"

"No, just that I wouldn't put it past Baelish or one of the Lords under his command to try and pull something like this off."

"Bah, you're such a Northern fool." She waved him off, going to the Painted Table. It had been here Daenerys called him to after Barristan and an unusually morose and bitter Tyrion had disclosed what happened at Rosby. At Grey Worm's wounding, Missandei had been inconsolable, and perhaps that was what was truly fueling Daenerys' anger. But the concern was legitimate. "It's right here in front of you!" She pounded on the table, where the figurines for her army and Stannis' were bunched up in the central Crownlands. "Have you forgotten he's trying to kill me?!"

"Never, but he's seeking peace. He sent me."

She scoffed. "Of course you'd say that, knowing what the Stag King's usurper brother was to your father. What Stannis did for you and your name so that you could get Winterfell as yours." Jon reacted if struck, which for him was a single blink and then a blank face. He stared at the defiant Dany for several moments that felt like hours before recognition dawned in Daenerys' expression. She seemed to deflate, anger leeching from her expression. "I… I apologize for that."

"You should," he replied evenly.

Sighing deeply, Daenerys took a step closer to him - relieved that he didn't back away. "Who could love a dragon? Our fury could melt stone."

He nodded. "I've seen Harrenhal. Not a pretty sight, though from the look of it, Black Harren didn't build it pretty, to begin with."

Snorting, lips curling upward even through her guilt at hurting him and her still-simmering anger at Stannis, Dany crossed the rest of the distance. "And here I thought you didn't make japes."

Jon gazed down at Dany as she hugged him, resting her head on his chest. He didn't push her away. "Sometimes I do. Sometimes."

"And those rare moments are what I live for." Dany pressed a kiss to his chest, right above his scar. "I'm sorry, Jon. I didn't mean what I said, I just…"

"You're worried about Grey Worm… if that's his name. Forgive me but I only met the man a few times."

"Yes, that's his name. When you're in positions such as mine, those you trust tend to be… sparing, and I've tried to husband the ones I've found."

"Hopefully, I'm up in there."

"Mayhaps behind Missandei and Barristan." Daenerys looked up with a tiny smirk of her own, one he matched. "What is that, the fifth time we've quarreled?"

Jon chuckled. "Twelfth, actually, but I count back from when we first met."

She shook her head. "I knew I shouldn't have told you about all of them." Gingerly, they pecked each other's lips, which turned into a languid kiss that seemed to ease the tension. Ease it, not eliminate it entirely. "Making it personal with you wasn't my intention, nor was it warranted, but Stannis' action still leaves me with the urge to retaliate."

"You won, Daenerys." She backed away again, but this time leaned against the Painted Table, arms crossed and looking at him intently. "There is no need to retaliate since by all accounts Grey Worm achieved a pretty decisive victory. Had he possessed more cavalry you could've annihilated Stannis' entire force which outnumbered him two to one."

Of this, Daenerys rolled her eyes. "If I recall you advised that I pull back most of the Dothraki to Duskendale to 'Avoid causing problems for negotiations.'"

"And I was right. Defeating them without annihilating them without mercy as the Dothraki are wont to do makes you look like the wronged party, not Stannis as it would in the latter scenario. I don't remember Grey Worm that much, but he clearly knows what he's doing."

"Yes, he does. One of my most loyal friends and advisors." Mollified, Dany smiled softly at him. "I love you."

"I love you too," Jon replied. "Dragon temper and all."

"Well, I should be glad of that." But her serenity didn't last long. It morphed into something else, not anger but… she turned and headed away from him. Again in front of the window, now Daenerys didn't seem angry or sullen. Her shoulders were relaxed - a little too relaxed. Deflated. While he stayed back before, now Jon approached her. Wrapping his arms around her waist and sighing in relief when she simply leaned back into him. "It wasn't supposed to be like this, Jon."

"And in what way do you mean, Daenerys?" He kissed her temple. "Did you expect Stannis to have less competent generals for you to face rather than me?"

He was being a little cheeky and knew it - reveling a little at how better his mood was at being with her again, even if he could only express himself truly when they were alone. By her snort, but staying still in his embrace, she knew it as well. "I beat you, however, so you couldn't have been as good as you claimed."

"Fair, since I didn't expect to be facing dragons." He chuckled. "Slaying Drogon would've made my seduction of you much harder."

At this, she glanced back at him. Her face was still frowning, but her eyes had a sparkle to them. "Oh, you were the one that seduced me?"

He shrugged. "The way I see it, you had your fill of flashy cunts and wanted someone dark and brooding."

"As if you weren't besotted by me the moment we met."

"I was told that you threatened to kill me the moment we met."

Smirking slightly, Daenerys turned and hugged him back. Kissing him lightly. "We certainly survived the greatest of odds." Normally it made her sad, but at that moment it heartened her. The greatest gifts or triumphs were forged in blood and pain. Her dragons were. The Bay of Dragons were. And Jon Stark was. "Jon, I was supposed to be sad and brooding."

"Are you unhappy I improved your mood?"

"Mayhaps not." She kissed him again. "But I would like you to let me talk."

He cupped her cheek. "Then talk, but remain looking at me."

Eyes filled with earnest care, Dany melted. "Alright… and no, I didn't expect it to be militarily easy, although my suspected final foe was Cersei, or so I thought." She was in King's Landing and Daenerys didn't wish to threaten smallfolk as Stannis did, inadvertently or intentionally. "The smallfolk of Essos… the slaves and most poor freeborn, they loved me. Worshipped me even. I… I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy it, but what I enjoyed most was that I was powerful enough to improve their lot in life."

"Selfless, one of the reasons I love you." From what he could infer, it took the longest time for him to realize it, but realize it he did. "But you worry those of Westeros won't see that of you since you cannot give them the gift of freedom as you gave those of Essos."

Biting her lip, Dany nodded. "You… you saw me as a monster when you first saw me. 'You are exactly what I expected,' were your words."

Blinking, Jon felt shame even though he didn't remember. "I'm sorry, Daenerys."

"It's fine, you didn't know me. We were enemies, we hadn't…" She looked at their embrace. "Had this." Dany couldn't break their embrace even if she wanted to, but she did look away. "Yet you did hate me, saw me as a monster. No matter what I do everyone will see that of me if I fight."

"That is why I ask you to trust me, Daenerys." Stroking her cheek, he gently guided her to look at him again. "I will not tell you that it is you that must always disarm, give in, or compromise. Ready to fight you must always be and if it is what you must do I will be on the ground fighting alongside your armies." That statement made her smile. "But you can win the people to your side with enough skilled maneuvering. Those of Slaver's Bay loved you because you used your dragons to fight for them. Those of Westeros will think the same, but only if you aren't seen as the tyrant."

"And how is that possible?"

Jon kissed her nose. "By not overreacting to Stannis. Let him overreact… or continue to negotiate and allow the peace to be signed. If you, with your dragons, accede to peace and prevent a destructive war, your name will be spoken alongside the Seven all across the land."

Daenerys smiled in spite of herself. "You do make a persuasive argument in your favor… though perhaps it is you. I doubt I'd be as tolerant if it were Tyrion or Varys giving me such advice."

"I'd be alright with that." Jon leaned in to kiss her again, perhaps leading to something further if she was willing...

One of the Dothraki Bloodriders guarding the door from the outside knocked and entered. "Khaleesi."

Daenerys tore her gaze from Jon and glared at him. "I instructed that I wasn't to be disturbed." Jon stayed quiet, though he marveled silently at how fluent his lover was in so many foreign tongues.

"Forgiveness, Khaleesi, but a maid wishes to speak to you about Prince Aemon."

Jon didn't know a lick of Dothraki, but he knew 'Aemon' when he heard it and immediately stiffened. As did Daenerys. "Let her in." The handmaid, one of the locals on Dragonstone in possession of the silver-blonde Valyrian hair but blue eyes of impure blood, entered nervously. "You, what do you have to say of my uncle."

"Your Grace," she curtseyed. "I was informed to tell you that Prince Aemon is close to the end."

Daenerys gasped while Jon's eyes widened in fear. "What?…" breathed the Queen. The last of her blood - when he departed, it would simply be her and her alone. The prospect was as terrifying as being without the uncle she loved.

"How soon?" Jon struggled to keep it together.

The maid trembled. "I am under the impression he could go at any time, mi'Lord."

Unable to hear this, Daenerys rushed out of the room, racing down the corridor as fast as her feet could carry her. Jon was close on her heels. Both truly loved Maester Aemon.

Knew he would want them both at his deathbed.

Given his age, they knew this day would come sooner than later.

That didn't mean it wouldn't be agony when it did come.

"Easy does it, Maester. Gently…" With ever so much care, Sam eased Aemon back into his bed. "Comfortable?"

"As much as I can be, young Tarly," Aemon chuckled. "Sometimes I feel it's a curse to be this old."

Sam raised his brows. "How do you figure, Maester? I would certainly love to live to such a ripe old age."

"And be forced to be carried by a young lad to use the privy?" He grinned toothlessly at Sam's stammer. "My father Maekar dying in his prime looks much more appealing to me each time you have to do that."

"I doubt my son could carry me himself…" He gestured to his corpulent frame. "And several men doing so would be… quite embarrassing." Sam moved to pour Aemon a drink of sweet milk when the door was thrown open. "Your Grace," Sam stammered out, not expecting to see Queen Daenerys burst in with a quite panicked look - and behind her… "Jon, what is…"

"How is he?" begged Daenerys frantically. "How much time has he left?"

"Please, Sam. I know it must be painful but just tell us." Jon was equally as visibly worried.

Blinking, Sam looked at Aemon and then back to them. "I'm not sure what has been said, but he is in as good a condition as could be expected."

A look of puzzlement formed on the Queen's face. "He's not dying?"

"That time is fast approaching, but not at this time. No."

"Daenerys." Aemon reached out a hand, resting back on the soft pillows. "Is that you, dearest niece?"

Dany moved to sit by Aemon's bedside, taking his hand. "Oh, uncle." She kissed his bony hand, letting out a relieved breath.

Jon knelt down alongside the bed on the other side. Gently, he took one of Aemon's hands. The old maester grew a small smile. "Oh, Jon," he said.

"Maester Aemon?" Jon said, surprised. He had thought Aemon was already gone.

"Yes," Aemon said. "I am still here."

Jon looked at Dany, whose eyes widened, then to a scowl. Realizing they'd been fooled, she left the room quickly, motioning for Sam to follow her before shutting the door behind her. Only Jon noticed that she had wiped a tear as she did. Dany put on a good front, but she was a loving, caring person.

She feared losing the last of her family.

"You both came to see me?" Aemon said.

"Yes, Maester." Jon sighed, hoping that he would be enough to help Dany survive when Aemon finally did pass on. "We did. Ran here, actually."

"Oh, I see."

"Someone told us you had already passed on, Maester."

"Deceived?"

"Yes, I suspect she wants to find out who it was," Jon replied. He paused, "How did you know it was me? All I did was touch your hand."

"I have my ways," Aemon said. "Even though… I'm just about finished here."

"You are quite sharp, Maester. Even in your old age, you might be the most perceptive man I've ever met," Jon told him.

"That's quite the compliment, Jon."

"You deserve it."

"Hmph," Aemon muttered then began to cough.

"Are you alright? Should I fetch Sam?"

Aemon reached over with his other to rest on top of Jon's as reassurance. "I'm fine, Jon. While whoever tried to fool you wasn't speaking truthfully today, I am dying. Mayhaps not this day, but someday soon, I can feel it."

"Don't say that, Maester."

"No, child. It's just life. It ends. All things do. As each day passes, I can feel more of myself slipping away into the dark," Aemon said, but smiled. "It's just life."

"I'm sorry, Maester. I just don't prefer to ponder on losing you," Jon whispered.

Though weakly, Aemon squeezed Jon's hand, surprising him. "Listen to me, boy... There's nothing you can do about it. Don't fight it. You can't fight time. My time is running out. You can't give me any more of it… It's finite."

"That's not easy for me. All I've done my life is fight."

"Well... that's just because you fight for other people. Not for yourself. If it was up to you, the fighting would stop. People who fight for themselves… for selfish reasons, will always fail in the end. Because… even when they do win, they have no one to support them. Because they stepped and clawed over them to get to the top," Aemon said, slowly.

Jon's eyes widened, "I understand."

Aemon exhaled, "Pardon me, child. I think I need a rest."

"That's fine, Maester. I'll leave you be," Jon said, standing up. He moved over the door, hand on the handle. But he stopped when Aemon started speaking again.

"Jon?"

He turned back to Aemon, "Yes?"

"Never forget who you are… Never."

Jon froze. Aemon's words reminded him of something he'd been told that was similar. The memory was foggy. But he recalled the words, 'Never forget what you are'. Though, Aemon had told him to not forget 'who' he is. He realized a major distinction between the phrases. The 'what' he is referred to as his bastardy. Something he's long since shed. The 'who' he is has become quite a mystery to him as of late. Yet, he's made great strides in answering that question.

Who am I?

Daario Naharis had forced him to ask himself that question. When his blade snuffed out all the lights. It had taken him a journey of self-discovery to find out. Or in some ways, remind himself. Who exactly he is. Jon Stark... that's the simple answer. He'd come to realize. There is much more to him than just a name. Aemon told him not to forget that. Certainly, he wouldn't.

"Thank you, Maester Aemon." Jon left the room, taking a deep breath. He walked out to see Dany walking towards him at a brisk pace. Sam is a bit behind her, unable to keep up, a bit red in the face.

"Is he alright?" she asked him, coming to a stop before him.

"Aye, he's just resting now."

"Did he say anything?" Dany asked. "I can't find that handmaiden anywhere. But she definitely lied to us intentionally."

"Hmm," Jon huffed, his chin. "He did tell me a few things."

"Anything useful?"

"Yes," Jon nodded. "But it had nothing to do with some handmaiden."

Sam finally caught up, coming to stand next to them. Dany turned to him with a bit of fire. "From now on, I want you to report directly to me about Maester Aemon. I want to hear from you at least once a day about his condition. Understood?"

Sam stiffened, and cleared his throat, "Yes, of course."

Dany nodded, "Good." She walked away from them, shaking her head.

Jon put his hand on Sam's shoulder, "Don't worry, mate. She'll not leave you with the dragons."

Sam's face got even redder, "You sure?"

Jon shrugged, then smirked, "Probably."

"You left Westeros long ago, Lady Melisandre. Several moons in fact." While the fire temple of Volantis was quite spacious given its importance, the inner sanctums reserved only for the priests, priestesses, and warriors of the Lord of Light were as cavernous and dark as Dragonstone. "And yet you've only been a guest here for a week."

Melisandre met High Priestess Kinvara's gaze - while young and with natural, unaltered beauty, she had risen to be the most powerful soul within the Lord's temple. As such, respect had to be given genuinely. "There were some matters I needed to address. Some… spiritual enlightenment I required solitude to discover."

"Nothing that loosens your commitment to the Lord's will, I hope." There was a serene smile on Kinvara's face, but such didn't disguise her.

The young woman would kill at the slightest provocation… all for their Lord.

A commitment Melisandre shared, though it oft transferred to mortals. "I am here now, though. Yet you required a week before you could speak with me."

A laugh left Kinvara's lips. "Ironic, no?" They walked in silence for several moments - Kinvara leading them deep within the confines of the temple complex - before she spoke again. "Tell me, Melisandre, what was it like? Rising one from the dead through the power of our Lord?"

Peering at her with a raised brow, Melisandre thought carefully before answering. "I felt no power… no wash of energy. Just a surreal calm, like my soul... slowed and all I could hear was my heartbeat and the lack thereof coming from Lord Stark." Try as she might, never had such an occurrence came to her. "As if I was sucking the cold of death out from him."

"You spoke in your last letter of another priest with the same power. Thoros of Myr?"

"Aye, him. A warrior rather than a holy man, a drunk rather than a devoted servant, but he possessed the power."

"And who did he save?"

"Beric Dondarrion, a former Lord in my King… former King's homeland. As different a soul from Jon Stark as one can imagine."

Kinvara chuckled quietly. "There presents a question." Passing through a corridor, one of the Fiery Hand grabbed a torch and began escorting them. "Does the power to bring one back from the dead lay within only a special priest, or does the Lord only wish those with a destiny in his grand scheme be brought back."

"That… is a question I cannot answer, though why such an interest in myself and Thoros?"

Reaching a door, Kinvara's hand curled around the latch before she looked back at Melisandre. "Three priests. Three souls brought back."

Confusion reigned before Melisandre's eyes widened. "You…"

Smiling, Kinvara opened the door to reveal a figure seated on a cot. Just sitting, saying not a word. "Good evening, Ser Jorah."

The pale form of Jorah Mormont looked up, his face scarred and pallid but his eyes as filled with fire as ever before. "Has it come time that I return to my Queen?"

Looking at Melisandre, Kinvara could only answer with a nod.

A/N: Bruh: Well, there's a lot here. Big boom reveal. Jorah is alive. That's pretty cool. We got some ideas for him.

Tyene acted in her own best interest.

Aemon is literally breathing on death's door.

Appreciate you readers. Wouldn't be here without you. Hope you hang in with us. The timetable of the release of chapters just slow right now. It's sort of like being on a roller coaster with a lot of hills. We're in a valley right now. But we're not done yet.

See you again down the road.

Longclaw: You guys didn't think we were done with Jorah, did you? Everyone thinking he's dead just gives his returning all the more impact. And another soul to keep Dany's support system alive.

Stannis getting married might make him more amenable to a sense of peace, though I wouldn't trust littlefinger.

Battle is based off the Battle of Dara.

Until next time.