Sister's Keeper

Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx53

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones

Chapter 54: Running Out of Time

Jorah's POV

Jorah woke up to find himself spooning Alysanne. He took a moment watching her, recalling what happened last night at one of the Unmasking festivities. He lost control in the garden, the magic the Warlocks created in this dream tempted him. Alysanne was an addiction, making love to her over and over again until both of them were spent. Jorah sighed, carefully climbing out of bed, and went over to the pile of clothes that were on the ground. Grabbing the coin purse, he checks the stone. It was still the same shade as steel, but how long until it goes darker.

He sighed yet again, rubbing his hand across his face. Thanks to the temptation, he was running out of time. Initially, he was going to tuck Alysanne to bed and continue his search to find the cursed object that bound her to this dream. Thanks to the man with the red mask, he knows it's blue and takes the form that is part of a tradition. Blue usually associated with the Dothraki culture, and since they had some artifacts, it should be a start ever since the Targaryen Sisters joined Khal Drogo's Khalasar assimilating to the culture, especially the tradition of braids and long hair.

He glanced at Alysanne, who was still asleep. Walking back, he adjusted the blanket to cover her before freshening up for the day. It was still early, a habit he had of waking before the sun…well except for when he was exhausted and when he was with Alysanne. He walked over to the window to check the time, seeing the dark grey sky of the early hour. He was lost in thought when something tapped the window out of nowhere. He blinked, as another tap got his attention, realizing someone was throwing pebbles. Staring down, he saw the man from last night.

Jorah had many questions, as he quietly left the bedroom and made his way down. Although he stopped to grab his sword and dagger, it was at the gardens gate did he see the stranger standing there with his arms crossed.

"I was wondering when you would wake, Jorah the Andal," the man said.

Jorah looked at him. He tried to get any details of who this man was. However, the bauta mask covered the stranger's entire face. The only trait he could get was his dark blue eyes and that he was pale skin along with his accent sounding like it was from the southern part of Westeros. Nothing else.

"Who are you?" Jorah asked.

"Someone who does not want the Dragoness to die," the man answered. "We have no time. You need to find the cursed object or find a way to wake her up. Neither of you should be in the veil of the living and death. "

"The Veil of the living and death?"

The Mask Man sighed, "Some call it limbo, where those on the brick of death resides until the Stranger decides to wake them or not."

Jorah scowled when hearing this.

"Also, the Warlocks are growing suspicious," the mad added. "You need to act the part while still searching for the cursed object. "

"How can they know, is it the boy?" he asked.

The Mask Man shook his head, "The boy is not a threat. He is not a Warlock or a spy. A mere illusion that Alysanne always wanted." He then sighed. "I wouldn't blame her, wanting this dream to be real. Not after the mistakes Rhaegar and the Mad King made or the suffering from Viserys' abuse."

Jorah noticed the sadness that shimmer in the stranger's eyes. One a guilty man would express when knowing of their mistake and accepting that they were at fault. Along with personally knowing the individual. Hearing that this was the veil of the living and the dead, he had to ask.

"Are you a spirit?" he asked.

The Mask Man nodded, "The dead always watch over the living or at least for those who are in purgatory."

Due to the location, he had to ask, "Ser Willem Darry?"

The Mask Man shook his head, "No, although he would've been proud of the girls in how far they've come."

"Then who are you?" he asked. "How do I know you are not a Warlock?"

"A Warlock wouldn't have killed their own brother, not when their brotherhood is dying," the Mask Man answered. "I will tell you this; I was a Targaryen supporter. I stood by Rhaegar until I was forced into exile."

Jon Connington, Jorah guessed.

"You must hurry and play the part. I and the others will do our best to keep the Warlocks away." The Mask Man said. "Try bringing up memories. Subtle events may trigger something."

Jorah was about to say something when the stranger snapped his arms through the gate's bars grabbing his shirt and yanked into the metal. Dark blue eyes glared at him; the strangers voice much serious. "The Dragon has three heads. If Alysanne dies, the Long Night shall consume the entire world. Don't fuck this up, Mormont."

The Mask Man gave a shove and left.

Jorah scowled, adjusting his shirt trying to understand who this stranger was. A Targaryen supporter? A lot of Targaryen supporters who refused to bend the knee were executed by Tywin Lannister or died in battle other than Willem Darry and Jon Connington who escaped. Except he knows one of them was dead.

He returned inside, heading towards the library to recheck the artifacts. See if there was anything that was blue. As he walked through the hall, he heard soft footsteps behind him. A hand on the handle of his dagger, he turned around seeing Joren standing there holding a stuffed bear. The exiled knight sighed, releasing his hold on the handle. Joren looked at him, tilting his head.

If only he were real, Jorah sighed sadly.

All his life, he wanted a family. He was young when he first married, a wealthy match his father made with House Glover. Bear Island was suffering from the harsh winter and needed the funding. There was a sense of pressure by the community, relentlessly, to produce an heir. There were miscarriages. And yet, they kept on trying. Both were fifteen; he knew nothing of women or their bodies.

Gilliane, bless her soul, tried to adapt to Bear Island, she tried to be one with the shield maidens, and though they were learning to grow how to love, they held more of a friendship. She died ten years later. It was so traumatizing that he held off from marrying, which his father Jeor understood. Jorah rarely speaks of it. Then came Lynesse Hightower, winning her hand at the Tourney in Lannisport after Robert's Rebellion.

Lynesse was beautiful, young, and healthy, and after many years of being alone and craving a family, he did not realize the mistake he made. Lust destroyed his honor and duty. Then there was Alysanne, a Targaryen Queen who was a product of incest. During their relationship, he learned about the Queen's previous pregnancy that was terminated by Viserys drunken rages. She stated she wanted a family of her own, just not with Viserys. When her wicked brother was dead, and their relationship grew serious, he knew there was a possibility of a child. Until learning about Alysanne taking elixirs of Lys to prevent pregnancy. Not against Jorah, but as a precaution if her enemies attempt to rape her. After meeting Mero of Braavos, he understood.

And now he was in this dream, where a little boy who resembled him stood. Knowing the Warlocks were watching, sensing if the Jorah they made goes out of character or not. So, he walked over to the boy and knelt to his level.

"You're up early," Jorah noted.

"The sky's awake," Joren mumbled.

"That it is," Jorah agreed.

"Is Mama awake?" Joren asked.

"She's sleeping," Jorah answered, with a slight smile. "Are you hungry?"

Joren nodded as he hugged his bear. The Exiled Knight had to admit the Warlocks did an excellent job in making the child adorable. Reminded him of the stories of the changelings. Very convincing, when he has the upper hand of knowing Joren is not real. Much as it saddens him. Remembering yesterday what the boy ate, he picked him up.

"Bread and jam?" Jorah offered.

"And bacon!" Joren added.

Jorah chuckled somewhat, "And bacon."

He took the boy to the kitchen to get him some breakfast.

.o0o.

Alysanne's POV

I woke up, finding that the bed was empty. I climbed out of bed and put on a nightgown and robe before walking out. I stopped by Joren's room, finding his bed was empty too. Jorah must have taken Joren to get breakfast. At first, I was wondering what was going on with my husband, for he was acting strangely yesterday. But after last night, it could have been nothing. When something is bothering him, he won't stop until he confirms everything was secured. It brought back memories in Qarth, the moment Xaro was flirting with me and Pyat Pree doing that gem parlor trick at the party Jorah was on guard.

Anyway, I made my way to the kitchen seeing Joren sitting on the counter while Jorah stood by the woodfire stove, cooking some bacon. Jorah was telling another story of his previous adventures. Sometimes I wonder how many adventures Jorah had experience, at this rate Joren might know his father more than I.

"Even came across the Unsullied," Jorah said, still unaware I was there.

"Unsull-e," Joran tried to say.

"Some say the Unsullied are the greatest soldiers in the world," Jorah continued.

A slight headache came out of nowhere, as flashbacks happened. Seeing a platoon of men in black leather armors, standing like statues holding spears and shields in hot weather. Another came of a man walking over removing his helmet of a young man from the Summer Isles. For a moment, I thought they were the Qohor Unsullied; however, the slave soldiers in Qohor armor were different. Theirs resembled more like lizards than scarabs.

"Mama," Joren called out disrupting the flashbacks.

What the hell was that? I thought.

Jorah turned around, giving a smile till noticing I was pinching the brim of my nose to alleviate the headache.

"You all right?" Jorah asked.

"Just a headache, I might've had too much wine last night," I answered.

"More than just wine," Jorah teased.

I chuckled, remembering what happened in the garden, "Wouldn't be surprised if there is a little one on the way."

Jorah's mouth dropped slightly; blush dusted his check before looking away. I chuckled and walked over to Joren, taking him in my arms to hug him. Joren gave a hug back, giving me a somewhat sloppy kiss.

"After last night, it's best we stay in today," Jorah suggested.

"Agreed," I said. "Might as well polish and dust over the trophies and artifacts. Give a good cleaning."

"Do you need some help?" Jorah offered.

"You and cleaning," I asked, raising a brow in a teasing manner.

Jorah shrugged. I chuckled as we ate breakfast together. Once cleaning up the kitchen, Joren and I got dressed for the day. In the library, Joren was in his corner playing with his toys while Jorah and I went over the trophies that required some polishing and dusting. Usually, the servants do the cleaning, although our trophies from Central Essos were intimidating to them. A previous servant almost cut her finger off when improperly polishing an arakh. So, I took charge of tending the trophies, weapons, and artifacts.

As we cleaned, I've noticed Jorah was focusing certain items that were blue. On occasion, he would look up at me as if trying to see a reaction. Again, something has been off about him. I must confront him about this later, having an idea to do so. Once I finished doing a brass statue, I got up to the mantel to collect the golden dragon egg. It was hard to sell the other two eggs. All three were a wedding gift from Magister Illyrio to Daenerys. It was an act for survival, as much as I tried to keep much of Daenerys things that were not burned in the funeral pyre. However, I couldn't sell the golden egg. There was a moment, except I couldn't.

Picking up the golden egg, I stared at it. It wasn't pure gold, more of bronze and gilded steel. As I held it, I stared at the intricate patterns that resembled scales. I fell into a trance, tracing my fingers along with the markings. A strange aura was coming off the egg as if it was still alive. As if the draglet is swirling around in its shell waiting for its rider or mother's fire. There was a soft whisper echoing in my head.

"Wake up, please wake up." A female voice softly cried.

A hand touched my shoulder startles me. The egg fell from my hands except it was quickly caught by Jorah who scared me from that.

"Sorry," Jorah said, handing back the egg.

I blinked a few times did I hear…Dany? These strange visions and now Daenerys's voice? What the hell is going on with me? I haven't dealt with a possible madness scare since striking Viserys in Vaes Dothrak. When I thought I was dreaming of Visenya Targaryens and hearing her voice. It was at Daenerys' funeral when it come to an end.

"I need to get some fresh air," I said, leaving the library and went out to the gardens.

Once outside, I sat under a lemon tree and took several deep breaths. So much has been happening as of late. The vivid dreams of my sister being alive, Jorah acting strangely, these strange visions, the headaches, the attack at the square, and now hearing voices. I must be going mad; it's the only logical explanation. For years I worried that one day I would snap and become my father. It was one of the reasons why I abdicated. To reduce the stress that could lead to the temptation. Taking a few deep breaths, I leaned against the tree and closed my eyes, trying to meditate.

The sound of the festivities could be heard, listening to the faint music, laughter, and cheers — the birds chirping in the trees. The winds were tasseling the branches of the tree. The smell of the lemons engulfing my senses until my body started to relax. I still held the golden dragon egg, tracing the marking of the scale ridges.

My body relaxed, feeling numb. Suddenly there was this strange feeling over my body. As if dry cold hands were grasping my form. All the strength had left my limbs. I could not move. Even my heart ceased to beat. The egg in my hands started to pulse, then turn warm, then grew hot, burning hot like an ember taken from a firepit. A sound of a roar bellowed, along with shrieks that were inhuman, like the high thin papery voices of the Undying Ones crying out. When I snapped out of the trance, I looked around seeing the garden was empty. There was no one, not even walking past the iron gate.

I then turned my focus to the dragon egg, feeling the heat from its shell. As if the egg was placed in the fire. It was noted that fire and burning objects cannot hurt me. Learning that the first time when Viserys tossed me into the firepit. Still, what just happened? I felt exhausted all of a sudden. The energy I had a moment ago vanished.

Shaking my head, I stood up and secured the eggs seeing it was close to the hour of the second meal. Standing up, I plucked a few ripe lemons off the tree and went inside to start prepping lunch. Although, I stopped at the front of the door where a few wandering vendors come by, selling fish and other produce. Just as I purchased a few items, I noticed a familiar person wearing black and red attire. Not taking the risk, I rush inside, locking the door.

.o0o.

Jorah's POV

Jorah pulled out the crystal when Joren ran to get another toy. Don't get him wrong, he found the child innocent, but knew he wasn't real. As much as the dream made him feel so. During the distraction, he checks the crystal, and his eyes widen for it was the shade he would compare to Iron. Something caused the color to darken drastically. Out of instinct, he told Joren to stay here and rushed to find Alysanne.

She was not in the garden. He rushed through the bedroom, seeing her absent, and continue his search in panic. Quaithe stated the dream would be longer than the real world; it has been two days, so the crystal shouldn't have changed to that shade so rapidly. Something happened.

It was when he barged into the kitchen, as the door slammed open banging the wall. The sound startled Alysanne who was removing the scales of a fish. She then cried out, accidentally cutting her left hand. She started cursing, almost like a sailor between the common tongue, Dothraki, and Valyrian. Jorah winced, as he came over to inspect the wound, seeing a nasty cut from her pointer finger to thumb. He led her outside to the hand pump, grabbing the handle pumping it a few times to wash the hand. Alysanne hissed from the cold water. The blood and scales washed off.

"Mind telling me why you barged in like that?" Alysanne asked bitterly.

"I thought I heard a scream," Jorah lied.

"A scream?" Alysanne asked. "Where's Joren?"

"In the library," Jorah answered as he continued to wash her hand.

Once the bleeding reduced, he got a better look seeing the wound wasn't deep, no need for stitches. He then stopped when seeing the ring on her left finger. The wedding ring being gold with a blue gem on top for a moment was glowing. He then realized his error, the cursed object, a blue item that takes the form of tradition, but the Warlocks got it wrong. Jorah was a Northman, even if from a Noble house, Mormonts were not rich and he would have kept to the tradition from his family. If he were to marry Alysanne, he would have carved the ring of betrothal or reforge a metal from home a piece of home. In his case, his key from Mormonts Keep. It wasn't an artifact or a trophy, but a wedding band that was trapping Alysanne to the dream.

Now there was another problem. How can he get the ring off her without her noticing? From all his accounts, noble women hardly take off their marital bands. He looked at Alysanne, seeing her still annoyed that he startled her, yet she appeared tired. Almost ready to fall asleep. He suppressed a scowl, taking the linen scarf off his neck and wrapped it around her hand, bandaging it.

"You look exhausted, why don't you get some rest," he recommended.

Alysanne hesitated, "I'd rather not."

"Why not?" he asked.

"I…I startled myself in the garden. Lost my train of thought and felt like somebody was touching me." She answered as she corrected the bandage.

Jorah tried not to scowl. He assumed the Warlocks tried to steal some of her life force to quicken the process of killing her. It was the only logical explanation of why the crystal turn darker.

"It's nothing, probably on edge from what happened last night at the square," she said, then sighed. "I shouldn't lie. We promised not to hold any secrets."

"You can tell me," he assured, resting a hand on her shoulder.

She sighed as she hugged him, resting her head on his chest. Jorah wrapped his arms around her.

"I don't know if I'm over thinking of having madness again or not. The past few days… I've been getting these flashbacks…of us…and other people. Seeing Daenerys still alive. In the library, when I held the egg…I thought I heard her voice. She was telling me to wake up. And in the garden…I thought I heard a roar and something grabbed me. Am I going Mad?"

She's remembering, Jorah thought. He gently tilted her chin, looking into her indigo eyes. "Never. You are the Dragoness of the West. The Breaker of chains," he can feel his throat clench trying to prevent him from talking as a cough rolled, so he stopped to kiss her. When he felt the restraint receding, he continued, "The rightful Queen to the Iron Throne. Queen of the Andals and the First Men, and…" A cough escapes as he turned away. He waited a moment then looked her hard in the eyes. "And…Mhysa."

"Mhysa?" she repeated, then groaned, grabbing her head. Jorah held her, concluding these headaches were her memories trying to come back. He continues to hold her, except her legs collapsed than he guided her on the ground and held her.

You need to remember, Alysanne. Jorah thought. You need to wake up. You're dying. The longer you stay in this dream, you will die. Your sister needs you. Your people need you.

"Mama?" Joren called out walking into the room.

Jorah mentally cursed since the boy was a distraction. Although he was not the cursed object, the child is what keeping Alysanne here. She took a few deep breaths and looked at him.

"I'm fine, sweet boy," Alysanne as she stood up to hug the child.

Jorah sighed knowing tonight while Alysanne sleeps he will wake her up. Let his love enjoy this moment before returning to the real world. The Warlocks tried to kill her. Whatever happened in the garden, something prevented it? He stood up, seeing the golden egg on the counter. For a moment, he thought he saw it move.

Viserion, Jorah thought. Always there to protect her.

The rest of the day was spent acting like it was a normal day. Jorah allowed it, trying to tire out Alysanne so she would be in a deep sleep. When night came, after tucking Joren to bed, they went to their room. So many thoughts were running through his head in what he had to do. This was it. His last moments with Alysanne before reality takes hold. He walked over to his lover, who sat by a vanity, brushing her hair.

"Hopefully tomorrow will be better," she said.

"It will," he promised, playing along with the moment. He stood behind her, resting his hands on her shoulder. "Tomorrow, we can go to the market."

Alysanne nodded as she took his hand and kissed it. Jorah guided her up and held her in his arms. Wanting to savor these last moments, he kissed her, expressing all his love and devotion. Picking her up, he carried her to the bed, making love to her for the last time. It wasn't passionate like last night; it was soft and gentle. He watched and felt her writhing in pleasure under him.

After making love, he held her in his arms for the last time. He was waiting until she fell into a deep slumber. He watched her for a moment, savoring the peace written on her face. No signs of stress, worry, or fear. How she should sleep without enemies wanting to tear her down and kill her. If he recalls the visions she saw in the House of the Undying, he knew a greater threat would come that would need the Dragon Sisters even if it means sacrificing this paradise.

He kissed the top of her head, "All I've ever wanted was to serve you. I love you. I'll always love you."

With one more kiss, he removed the ring from her finger. As he held it, he sensed a dark atmosphere from the gem. Quickly and quietly, he got out of bed and changed back into his clothes. Once dressed, he walked over to the window seeing the Mask Man standing outside in the street. Grabbing his sword and dagger, he stopped once last time at the door, taking a selfish glance at Alysanne asleep.

His heart ached at this possibility the Warlocks created. A world where they were together and had a son. However, all dreams must come to an end. So, mustering all his strength, he left the room, closing the door, so when she wakes, she would be back in Meereen. Back to being Queen Alysanne Targaryen, not Alysanne Mormont.

Outside in the warm climate, the sounds of the Unmasking could be heard. At the gate, the Mask Man stood, which Jorah unlocked the entrance letting the stranger inside.

"Have you found it?" the Mask man asked.

Jorah nodded, presenting the ring.

The Mask Man took hold of the ring, examining the gem, "Are you sure?"

"If I were to marry her, the ring would've been made from the key of my home," Jorah answered.

"Replacing a location to an actual person," the Mask Man noted. "You Northmen have more symbolism and tradition than anyone in Westeros."

Jorah ignored that comment, "How do we destroy it?"

"By magic," the Mask Man said. "Take me to the dragon egg."

Cautious, he led the stranger to the library where Viserion's egg was on the mantel. The two men enter, as Jorah built a fire and the Mask Man took hold of the dragon egg. By the time the fire was ablaze and thriving, the Mask Man set a handkerchief on the ground, placing the ring in the center. Next gave Jorah a hammer that was kept hidden under the man's cloak. Jorah was confused, as the stranger set the egg into the fire.

"Destroy it," the Mask Man instructed. "Destroy both the band and gem, then toss it in the fire."

Jorah nodded as he glances at the ring. Taking a deep breath, he hovers the hammer over the gem, before lifting it slamming it on the piece of jewelry. Three more strikes later, the blue gem was shatter, followed by the shrieks. Not wasting a moment, he grabbed the handkerchief containing the shattered jewel and tossed it in the fire. The orange flames, turning blue as it combusts. Both men were shoved back, seeing a decaying figure scream stretching out its hand towards them until it was consumed by the fire.

And then there was nothing.

The fire dimmed out, leaving a petrified dragon egg surrounded by embers. The sounds of the Unmasking ceremony could faintly be heard in the background. Jorah expects that the room would fade and when he closes his eyes, he expects to be back in the Orange Shores with Quaithe. He did just that, however, when he opens them, he was still in the library. He tried again; once more, he was still in the room. Jorah immediately took the crystal out of the pocket, recalling earlier it was the shade of Iron. Both men looked at the crystal, and their eyes widen. Inside it was black as night, practically onyx.

They were too late.

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Have you figured out who the Mask Man is yet?

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