Sister's Keeper
Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones
Chapter 37: A Slave in Everyone
Jorah's POV
The Exiled Knight decided to take a break. As usual, since walking, Tyrion mutters his complaint of hunger and wine. They were able to come across a lake containing fresh water. There was a bit of salt since the sea was close by, but the earth neutralizes the salt water to near fresh water. Jorah also found some berries and roots that were edible. He gave the food to Tyrion before walking over to the water to get a better look at the greyscale. So far it has not spread only calcified. He wonders how long he has before the disease petrifies his humanity to become a stone beast. Sighing, he removed the blue scarf and drenched it in the water before washing his neck.
"So, those villages we were supposed to find? We can't live on berries and roots," Tyrion said, hold red berries.
"I can," Jorah said, securing his scarf.
Tyrion scowled at him. The Knight had experience of prolonged fasting. Having grown up on Bear Island where natural resources were limited. Lived most of his life traveling, knowing how to ration food, scavenge from the earth and know what is poisonous and what is polluted — learning from Bear Island Maester, his father, aunt, and the Dothraki. Skills that have come into use. The Lannister, on the other hand, was used to having someone serving him.
"You're not hungry?" Tyrion asked.
"Of course, I'm hungry," Jorah answered, walking back.
"You're an awful traveling companion, do you know that? Possibly the least charming man I've ever met."
"I'm not your traveling companion."
"We are traveling together in each other's company, therefore—"
"Do you ever shut up?" Jorah snapped breaking his composure.
Never in his life has he met someone so annoying by talking. At first, he though Daario Naharis fit that role. However, Tyrion Lannister clearly won the prize of being the person to make him snap and lose his composure.
Tyrion glared at Jorah, "I sailed from King's Landing to Pentos in a crate without saying a word."
"Why?" Jorah asked sitting down on a fallen branch.
"It never occurred to you to ask why until now?" Tyrion asked back. "You never wondered why Tyrion Lannister decided to visit a brothel in Volantis?"
"I'm sure you visited many brothels in many cities," Jorah countered.
There was a sorrow expression written on the Lannister's face, "I killed my father."
This surprised Jorah. Patricide is one major sin in the Faith of the Seven. Killing any family member on purpose that wasn't part of the birthing bed had a place in one of the seven hells. Or at least that is what Jorah knew, since he grew up on the Old Religion, even though his mother was of the Seven. Still, hearing what Tyrion confessed, has confirmed that Tywin Lannister was dead. The man who made Houses go extinct, brutally sack King's Landing, and the desolation of House Targaryen. Also, the man who sent the second pardon scroll that ruins his relationship and position.
"He wanted to execute me for a crime I didn't commit," Tyrion explained. "And he was fucking the woman I loved."
Jorah nodded, knowing the feeling of someone else taking away a spouse. He got up giving some space as he looked over the horizon of the waters.
"As miserable as you are, Mormont, at least your father was a good man," Tyrion said.
"What do you know about my father?" Jorah asked.
"I met him. I visited the Wall." Tyrion answered. "When I asked him about his men, he knew all their stories, every one of them. He actually cared about the people under his command. How do they put it in the Watch? 'We shall never see his like again.' "
Jorah nodded then stopped on the last verse. His face grew heavy and felt a tightness in his chest. Did he hear correctly? Did Tyrion quote the Night's Watch funeral prayer with his father? The Knight looked at the dwarf silently asking him this.
Tyrion's eyes widen, "Oh, you didn't know. I'm sorry. I am."
"How?" Jorah asked.
"I only know what I heard," Tyrion stated.
"How?" Jorah demanded.
"He was leading an expedition beyond the Wall. There was a mutiny. He was murdered by his own men." Tyrion informed.
Jorah comprehended his words and nodded, "We better keep moving."
They started their walk not saying another word.
Jorah was lost in his thoughts thinking about his father. Being the only son, that disgraced him. Jeor Mormont abdicated his post as Lord of Bear Island and took the black to give Jorah a chance to lead. Since Jeor and his wife had Jorah very young, all Jorah wanted was to make his father proud. But it took one woman to ruin his father legacy when Jorah sold two poachers into slavery. Bringing great dishonor, Jorah went into exile, though had the courtesy to leave Longclaw. During his exile, he received a letter from his father asking him to come back to Westeros and take the black. Be a member of the Night's Watch and be pardon of his crimes.
But Jorah couldn't. He didn't want to return and see the disappointment in his father's eyes. Now he wonders what if he did decide to return to Westeros. Would his father have forgiven him over time? Could he have been there to protect his father against the men who betrayed him? How can a mutiny happen? Jeor Mormont was the most highly respected man in Westeros. As Tyrion said, he cares for all his brethren and remembers each Crows' story.
Deep down, Jorah had hoped to return to Westeros by the Targaryens and show his father another way of redemption. Tell his father he had helped Queen Alysanne abolish slavery in Slaver's Bay. How he found a new purpose in life. Although, he wonders how Jeor would think since House Mormont fought against the Targaryens. Now, Jorah had missed an opportunity out of his selfish action.
.o0o.
Alysanne's POV
More coughs erupted as I spat up the water. Ser Barristan stared at me concern seeing how much I've been struggling. Dragon fire may not have harmed me externally, but the smoke still lingers in my lungs. It was normal for people to cough for weeks after escaping a fire. However, the newfound stress had gotten to me. Making it difficult to get some rest and recover properly.
Already Daenerys has been making things difficult. Trying to convince me not to marry Hizdahr, however, it wasn't helping. I got the Great Masters, Wise Masters, Good Masters, and Freemen pushing and pulling me around demanding and wanting things from me. Now add this stupid wedding. I'm already dreading the fertility ritual. I had to take myself off the Lys elixir in order to prevent suspicions.
Once more so much has happened. Yesterdays the Son of the Harpy who was under my custody was put on trial. I along with Hizdahr and the new representative name Marselen for the freemen. I sat on the ebony pedestal on the top of the steps with Missandei and Ser Barristan behind me. Hizdahr and Marselen sat on the middle steps in chairs of cedar while the accused stood on the bottom platform. All around were the Masters and the Freemen council along with witnesses for the trial.
The Son of the Harpy went first, based on the evidence that was presented on White Rat's murdered. All three of us found the man guilty and would be put to the sword. Next was Mossador, on the grounds of treason and attempted murder. We found Mossador guilty; however, it was put to the vote on his sentencing. Marselen and Hizdahr agreed that Mossador is not worthy to receive death. Instead, he was exiled as the man was put on a ship going straight to Ghaen. Mercy. Mossador was given mercy when others have not.
What was hard was passing the sentencing of the sword. Remembering Jorah's words about being a lord in Westeros, "The man who passes the sentences should swing the sword."
So, after the trial, the Council and I went to City Square where the citizens of Meereen stood. On the left was the Meereenese while on the right was the Freemen. All the liberated slaves were calling me Mhysa! By the time were on the stage, I addressed my subjects in Valyrian.
"You opened your gates to me because I promised you freedom and justice. One cannot exist without the other." I said.
The Unsullied brought the Harpy in. Forcing him on his knees before his people. He was overwhelmed and shocked.
"A citizen of Meereen was found guilty by three judges on the crimes of treason and murdered of an Unsullied Officer. His name was White Rat. He served his life to protect you all. Only to be killed by this coward behind a mask. The punishment is death."
The crowd made noises that were hard to make out. I glanced at the Meereenese who stood there with neutral faces. Some were giving an approving nod since it was a fair trial. Along with Hizdahr having a part in the decision. On the Freemen side, they were cheering. Taking a deep breath, I drew my sword and walked over to the Harpy. I told him to say his prayers and final words. Understanding death was here, he whispered his prayers and bowed his head.
Adjusting my grip, I rested the Valyrian blade on top of his neck. Taking a deep breath, I raised the sword and beheaded the Harpy. The traitor's head falling to the ground, grown eyes blinking until it stops. Meanwhile, his body dropped, blood seeping to the ground. I stared at it, for this was my official kill. I have slain the Undying Ones and warlocks as a means of protecting my sister, but the execution was entirely different. It was a choice, not an impulse decision. By a fair trial, I passed the sentence and swung the sword. After that, I return to the pyramid wanting to be alone.
Now I focus on paperwork, yet the coughing continues.
Ser Barristan came over pulling me away from the desk and papers.
"Your Grace," he said. "You should rest."
"I'll rest when I'm dead," I jest when I got my breathing in order.
"Your Grace, as your Queensguard it is my duty to protect you from those who dare harm you and from yourself. You've done so much, probably weeks ahead for Meereen, and laws in Astapor and Yunkai. It's time to rest," he said.
Staring at the desk seeing nothing but one piece of paper left. I picked it up and read the content. It was about improving hostels. "Give this to Daenerys. Since she is in charge of the living arrangements for the mass halls and barracks."
Ser Barristan nodded in approval as he helped me out of my chair and escorted me to my chambers. I know I'm exerting myself. Stressing to the point that my body can't recuperate. Not after Daenerys stunt, and the recent execution; do I caution about the Sons of the Harpy and the third party involved. The investigation is going nowhere. All we got is finger pointing and theoretical assumptions that go nowhere without proof. And since the Harpies in the riot are dead along with the one, I executed, we are stuck. Someone is paying for these mercenaries to help support the Sons of the Harpies. On finance records from the Masters, it is not from them. At least those of the Council and the 163 ancient families.
Once in my room and alone, I changed out of my attire into evening robes. When I sat by the vanity to free my hair, I stared at my reflection. All I saw was a tired woman. Thin by the anxiety and stress, bruising under her eyes from the lack of sleep, and eyes appearing almost empty. I no longer feel like myself. It was like the weight of responsibility has suffocated me.
I knew that being a ruler holds a tremendous amount of responsibility. The world has its eyes on me from enemies in the city, enemies in Ghiscar, and enemies in Westeros. However, my duty for Westeros may come to an end or passing the torch onto Daenerys. The Westerosi don't know that a emanate threat will go south from the Wall and bring back the Long Night. How can I help them if I am bound to Slaver's Bay once I marry? The best thing I can do is prepare Daenerys, train the dragons, and…
I sighed bowing my head.
Large invisible chain and collar forged around me. Destiny, fate, inheritance, duty, and honor was dragging me to the ground. All alone. Those who are loyal are subjects. My only family disrespects me and can have the Targaryen madness. And the one I love is a ghost that will never let me be.
Sometimes I wish the invisible chains be gone and return to Braavos.
Back home in the House of the Red Door.
.o0o.
Jorah's POV
The two travelers were making way through the cliffs having a better view of the Gulf of Grief.
"Why Alysanne? Why is she worth all this?" Tyrion asked. "As I recall, the Mormont's fought against the Targaryens during Robert's Rebellion."
"Do you believe in anything?" Jorah asked.
"I believe in lots of things," Tyrion answered.
"In something greater than ourselves, I mean. The gods, destiny." Jorah clarified, then stopped facing the dwarf. "Do you believe there's a plan for this world?"
Tyrion looked around, "No."
"Neither did I. I was a cynic just like you. Then I saw a battered woman step in front of her brother-husband to protect her pregnant sister. A sword aimed at her chest. She did not hesitate. When Viserys cut her chest and shoved her into the fire. When I pulled her out of the fire, there was not a burn on her." Jorah said. "Not long after, I saw her sister step into a great fire with three stone eggs. When the fire burned out, I thought I'd find her blackened bones. Instead, I saw them, the Dragon Sisters, holding three baby dragons. Both touch by fire, alive and unhurt. Have you ever heard baby dragons singing?"
"No," Tyrion said.
"It's hard to be a cynic after that," Jorah said, walking again.
"Doesn't mean she's going to be a great queen." Tyrion inquired.
"No, it doesn't."
"The Targaryens are famously insane. What if she conquers the word? Then what? A thousand years of peace and prosperity?"
"First we have to conquer the world."
"We? All right, let's assume your dreams come true. She's ecstatic when you bring her this enemy dwarf. She hacks off my head and restores your position. You command her army, sail to Westeros, defeat all your enemies and watch her climb those steps and sit on the Iron Throne. Hurrah. Long Live the Queen. Then what?"
"Then she rules."
"So, a woman who has not spent a single day of her adult life in Westeros becomes the ruler of Westeros? That's justice?"
"She's the rightful heir."
"Why? Because her father who burned living men for amusement, was the king?"
"Alysanne is not returning to Westeros because of a throne. She's coming to save it from a Great War."
"Great War? You mean the war that is to come from her?"
Jorah sighed, not sure how to explain magic to Tyrion. When Alysanne came out of the House of the Undying, he had a hard time believing the vision his lover saw. He went along with it, to appease her sanity since she has been questioning if she was going mad. Jorah assumed the visions were the hallucinations from Shade of the Evening, having his own experience with that foul wine. However, when word came of the Red Wedding fitting the same description of Alysanne's vision, he feared for the worse.
The Knight was about to explain until spotting a ship, the sails were tied, but he could tell the ship was from the Summer Isles, and the majority of the Summer Isle ships are associated with piracy. Quickly, he grabbed Tyrion and slouch behind some boulders.
"That's a slave ship," Jorah whispered.
"Why are they anchored?" Tyrion asked.
"They probably came ashore for –"
"Water," another voice answered with the sound of swords scraping from scabbards.
They turned seeing seven men. The Knight noticed some were from the Summer Isles while others were Ghiscari. Jorah knew they were outnumbered, and his dagger wasn't enough to defend himself. Having no choice, the two surrendered.
.o0o.
Jorah was met with a punch in the face by the pirate captain Malko. Already, he and Tyrion were captured, their hands tied and brought to shore. They were on their knees as Malko, and his first mate evaluated them while the rest of the crew carried barrels of water back to the boats. The impact of Malko's fist knocked him over. He groaned, forcing himself up.
"Got a lot of fight in you, huh?" Malko chuckled and punched Jorah again. The pirate went over to the first mate.
"Salt mines?" the first mate asked.
"Yeah, that or a galley slave," Malko answered. "He looks strong enough?"
Jorah glared at him.
"What about the dwarf?" the first mate asked.
"Worthless," Malko said after analyzing Tyrion. "Cut his throat."
The first mate nodded, drawing his dagger and walked over to Tyrion.
"Wait. Wait. Wait, wait, wait! Let's discuss this," Tyrion pleaded.
"And then chop off his cock," Malko added, walking back to the rowboat. "We'll sell it for a fortune. A dwarf's cock has magic powers."
Tyrion's eyes widen while his face grew pale, "Wait! Wait! Wait, wait, wait!" soon the first mate had the dagger against Tyrion throat. "You can't just hand a dry cock to a merchant and expect him to pay for it. He has to know it came from a dwarf. And how could he know unless he sees the dwarf?"
"It will be a dwarf-sized cock," the first mate said.
"Guess again," Tyrion growled.
They looked at Malko for the decision.
"The dwarf lives until we find a cock merchant."
The first mate put his dagger away and stood up. Tyrion sighed in relief, panting. Jorah was impressed by the Lannisters quick thinking. Two of the pirates came over forcing him up.
"Queen Alysanne has outlawed slavery," Jorah reminded.
"We're bound for Volantis, not Slaver's Bay," Malko said, getting on the boat. "Besides, she reopened the fighting pits. I've never heard of free men fighting in the pits. Also, she is getting married to a Great Master."
Jorah's was baffled by this. He felt like he was punched in the face again. Something was not right. He knew Alysanne wouldn't merely marry a Great Master. Marrying a Ghiscari would bind her to Essos. As well, her sacred vow to not marry out of tradition or alliances. Something must have happened, that she is being pressured to marry. Possibly the same method that Xaro Xhoan Daxos did. Still, the shock took hold.
"The fighting pits in Meereen? You're in luck, then. You're about to be rich." Tyrion said, getting the pirate's attention. "You are looking at one of the great warriors in the Seven Kingdoms."
Malko laughed thinking it was Tyrion. But the dwarf gestured to Jorah, "Him."
"Him? He's got to be sixty years old," Malko scoffed.
I'm not that old, Jorah thought bitterly.
"Sure, he's a bit long in the tooth, a bit withered, been in the sun too long. We can all see that. But he is a veteran of a hundred battles." Tyrion exaggerated. "They wrote songs about him."
Malko looked at Jorah, gesturing him to come over, "That true?"
Jorah nodded.
"He won the tournament at Lannisport. Unseating Set Jaime Lannister himself," Tyrion added. "The Kingslayer."
Jorah held his tongue. He tied with Ser Jaime Lannister at the tournament of Lannisport. After breaking their nine lances with no result, Robert Baratheon granted him the victory. Not a earn victory.
Malko laughed, "Jousting. You're talking about jousting. A fancy game for fancy lads. The men who fight in the pits of Meereen will swallow him whole."
"I killed a Dothraki blood rider in single combat," Jorah announced.
This caught Malko's attention, as he came over getting into Jorah's face, "Liar."
"It's no lie. His name was Qotho. He was blood rider to Khal Drogo. Take me to Slaver's Bay, put a sword in my hand. I'll prove my worth." Jorah promised.
Dark eyes stared into blue eyes. The Knight was telling the truth. Malko smiled, laughing some.
"A Westerosi knight is worth double the honors," Malko said.
Jorah merely nodded.
They were taken aboard the ship and tied to the post. Now the journey will be quicker to Meereen than Jorah anticipated. However, when one of the pirates forced a collar on him, a feeling of suppression came over. Realizing this was how the two men he sold felt when bought by slavers. Jorah knew selling himself was the only way to get back to Alysanne.
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