Sister's Keeper
Edited By xXFallenSakuraXx52
Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones
Chapter 56: Awake and Alive
Moments before the Resurrection
Alysanne's POV
I walked over to Jorah, who was still uncomfortable with the whole communicating with spirits. I was used to it since I spent the past couple of years talking to Visenya. Just as I came over, the spirit who was talking to Jorah, I noticed he wore armor with golden accessories, around his head was a silver band with rubies. The Targaryen gave a bow and left to provide us with some privacy.
"Are you all right, Jorah?" I asked.
"I just talked to King Daeron the First," Jorah answered.
"The Boy King," I said impressed, as I watched Daeron walk over to others.
"You seem calm about all this," Jorah noted.
"Well," I paused for it was best to tell him the truth. "I've been communicating with the dead for the past few years."
"Rhaegar mentioned that," Jorah muttered, crossing his arms.
"The reason why I never told you or the others is that at first, I thought I was going mad. Hearing voices and communicating with Visenya. But when her lessons and wisdom started to come true in the real world…I accepted it." I explained. "Learning more of Targaryen History. How to be a ruler. How to fight. How to train the dragons."
"It makes sense now," Jorah sighed. "If only you've told me."
"Would you have believed in me, the same with your pardon?" I asked.
Jorah took a deep breath and sighed, knowing I got him there. He didn't trust me with his pardon, and I didn't trust him with my abilities.
"Is there anything else I should know. Any other magical abilities I should know of?"
"Unfortunately, I can't breathe fire."
Jorah snorted, shaking his head.
I rested my hand on his crossed arms, "But you understand why I've been serious about returning to Westeros. It's not because of the Iron Throne, but because something from the North is coming down to destroy life. The Long Night."
"Did all the Targaryens know of this?" Jorah asked.
"Only those chosen to be mentored by Visenya," Rhaegar answered as he came over. "The suspicion that something was happening began with Queen Alysanne dragon Silverwing refused to fly over the Wall. Preparing for the unknown, yet over time due to the wars, rebellions, and madness did we forget the purpose. Any moment now, the Great War shall rise."
"Daenys the Dreamer predicted of two dooms," Queen Alysanne said. "One by fire and one by ice. The Doom of Valyria was the fire. The Great War is of Ice."
Jorah nodded, though his eyes betrayed him in how overwhelming this is. I chuckled slightly and leaned up to peck his cheek. A small smile twitched his lips. A loud crackling sound could be heard catching everyone's attention as we all stare at the Dragon brazier. The fire breathing rabidly, crackling more as if it was alive. Queen Alysanne walked over to inspect it. Just as she touched the fire, there was a loud banging on the temple's door. What felt like an earthquake, shaking the temple, dust falling from the ceiling and arches.
"What was that?" I asked.
"The Warlocks, they are here to finish the dream and collect what remains of your fire," Queen Alysanne answered.
The dream was only open because Jorah was still alive.
"Rhaegar, get them out of here!" Aegon V ordered, drawing his sword.
The women gathered around the brazier grasping each hand chanting in High Valyrian. All the men drew their swords, blocking the only entrance to the temple. Rhaegar shoved Jorah and I, into the corridor leading us to the staircase. Just as we reached the second story, the door burst open, and the Warlocks entered wearing the Volto masks and blue robes. The Targaryen Women continue to chant around the fire, giving it more fuel to its breath. Rhaegar forced us to continue to run when a warlock appeared out of nowhere. Drawing our swords, we prepared for the attack. Fighting the Warlocks of Qarth away.
"Whatever you do, don't let them touch you!" Rhaegar ordered, blocking the Warlock and stabbing him in the stomach. Yanking the blade back, he gestured for us to keep running.
We ran, fighting anyone who dare comes near us. Shouts and battle cries echoed through the halls. We finally reached the final story, seeing through the rails the Warlocks trying to prevent the Targaryen women from doing their spell. The fire growing, almost reaching the dome ceiling.
"What are they doing?" I asked.
"Prolonging the fire magic," Rhaegar answered. He then turned to me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Alysanne, I mean no ill towards you or our family. I pray one day you will forgive me. I am proud to have you as my sister." He kissed my forehead like he used to, before looking at Jorah. "Protect her with your life. There is a door that leads to the roof. Along with a carved staircase on the east tower. Go now!"
Jorah nodded as he took hold my arm.
Rhaegar turned around, leaving to join the fight. Just as he walked down the step, his clothes transformed into black armor where a three-headed dragon made of rubies decorated his breastplate. Just as a helm covered his face, he turned to me on last time.
"There are three dragons left in the world, the last three Targaryens."
Before I could ask him what he meant, he left to join the battle. Jorah kept a good hold of me as he led the way to the door, where a ladder occupied the space. Jorah helped me climbed up before he did, slamming the latched door. The ceiling becoming uneven, as it shook. The dome starting to crack. Jorah kept hold of me leading me to the east side except there was no carved staircase on the pillars.
I looked at Jorah, wondering if this was it. Was this the end before reaching the afterlife? There was nowhere else to escape. The Warlocks of Qarth have won. Unable to think of the unknown, I embraced Jorah who hugged me in return.
"I love you," I said.
Jorah lifted my chin to face him, "I love you too."
His lips pressed against mine for the last time. As we kissed, the dome collapsed, and the raging fire from the brazier consumed the sky engulfing everything in its wake. The flames circling around us in a blazing inferno. Like the song of The Dance of the Dragons, of two lovers embracing each of other in the Doom or in the poem:
They held each other close and turned their backs upon the end.
The hills that split asunder and the black that ate the skies;
The flames that shot so high and hot that even dragons burned;
Would never be the final sights that fell upon their eyes...
The Doom consumed it all alike, and neither of them turned, I thought, excepting death.
.o0o.
My eyes snapped open, finding myself in the Audience Hall. My lungs screamed for air, an unexplainable pain of holding one's breath for far too long. A strange taste of herbs in my mouth and my throat aching. I gasped, breathing the warm air desperately drowning from nothing. The world was spinning. Everything felt like it was spinning. A sound of a startled yelp could be heard follow by a crash.
I sat up slowly, grasping my neck, analyzing the room. No doubt this was the Audience Hall, it was night, yet the chandeliers were not lit. Only the candles that surrounded me and four braziers. On the bottom step was Grey Worm who stood there in shock, as his eyes were wide open. Next to him on the ground, as if he had fallen was Tyrion, with a sheet in his hand. Everything felt like it was still spinning, turning around to get off what appears to be a bier. Yet candles were knocked over. Just as my feet touch the ground, my ankles gave way, causing me to fall. Before I hit the stone, Grey Worm had rushed in catching me.
I was still gasping, panting, breathing rapidly in trying to gain more air in my lungs.
"My Queen," he said, keeping a good hold of me.
"Torgo…Nudho…" I panted.
Grey Worm helped me sit down while Tyrion rushed over, wrapping the sheet around my naked body. I was utterly confused.
"What do you remember, Your Grace?" Tyrion asked.
I panted clinging the sheet close, "…fire…"
Tyrion arched a brow, then looked at Grey Worm, "Get the others. Tell them the Queen is alive."
Grey Worm nodded as he ran out through the main entrance. I panted, grabbing my head from a massive migraine. Visions bursting in my head in flashes. Everything that happened in the dream, the spirits of House Targaryen, the Warlocks, the illusions, Joren, and Jorah. I cried out, bowing my head while the flashes trying to make sense until the last living memory came in. Laying in Daenerys's arms as the poison took me.
"Dany…dinner…the Warlock… poisoned me…" I panted, then looked at him. "Where's my sister? Is she safe?"
"Daenerys is safe," Tyrion assured, still astonished.
"I…I shouldn't be here…" I whispered. Something did not feel right. I don't feel like myself.
"The High Priestess Kinvara brought you back," Tyrion explained.
I gagged feeling like I was going to vomit. Tyrion realizing what was happening, grabbed the basin dumping its contents and handed to me. I heaved over retching blue bile out of my stomach. The awful taste from the Shade of the Evening and other herbs being expelled from my system. The poison vomited away. Once I was finished, Tyrion took the basin away and kneeled in front of me.
"You were dead, and now you are not. I can't imagine what you are going through, but your sister needs you. The dragons need you. Your army needs you." Tyrion started.
I stared at Tyrion, confused, "What was the price?"
Before Tyrion could answer, the sound of footsteps rushed in seeing the Small Council. All were in shock. Tyrion helped me stand, allowing me to force my weight on him. However, my legs shook like a newborn fawn. Daenerys eyes watered, she came over and embraced me in a constricting hug, almost knocking us down. Hesitant, I patted her back, not sure if this was real or not.
"You were dead," Daenerys sobbed. "I thought I lost you."
"Is this…real?" I asked quietly. "Not an illusion?"
Daenerys pulled back, cradling my face, "Real. A thousand times real. Not a dream or a nightmare."
She leaned up to kiss me, but I avoided it, "Don't…I puked…"
She was confused until seeing the basin filled with bile. She gave the nod and hugged me again. I stood there, accepting her embrace while staring at my Small Council. Seeing Ser Barristan, Daario, Grey Worm, and Missandei bewildered by all this. So much was happening, as my body begged for movement. Let alone my mind swirling trying to grasp from what is a dream and what is a reality. Until I remember the final moments of the dream.
Jorah…did Jorah make it out?
.o0o.
Jorah's POV
Jorah opened his eyes and gasped, bolting up from the makeshift bed. He looked around to find himself in the dark chamber. Back in the Orange Shores in the Volantis territories. The world felt like it was spinning, his skin felt warm as if it was near the fire, and the smell of smoke clung in his nose. The last thing he remembers was holding Alysanne in his arms as the Temple of Valyria was engulfed in flames.
"Jorah the Andal," Quaithe calmly greeted standing by the potion table. She held a tray bringing it over to him, though place it at the end of the bed. There were water and a vial. "Drink."
"Did it work? Is she alive?" Jorah asked, noting his throat was a bit hoarse and muscles stiff.
Quaithe gaze into his eyes, having a premonition, "She lives. Being embraced by the Mother of Dragons."
Jorah sighed in relief, as he took hold of the cup filled with water and drank it. He remembers everything that happened in the dream. Although recalling what Quaithe said, he doubts Alysanne will remember what happened. The Spirits, the Warlocks, Rhaegar, Joren, and them. The illusion brought him some acceptance while searching for the cursed object, he had a moment to be with Alysanne again. Even if it was a short period of time. He can die in peace, knowing his lover was alive. If only he were there to help her fight in the Great War. Jorah may not have seen the prodigious threat the spirits were talking about, but the omens are clear.
"What will you do now?" Quaithe asked.
"I've surrendered to this sickness the moment I first saw it. For many months I try to find a cure, and all the physicians and healers in Essos cannot stop it." He answered, finishing his drink.
"It is West you must go," she said.
The Exiled Knight stared at her confused.
The Shadow-binder continued, "West to Westeros, in the tower where knowledge resigns. A life debt will come in favor of your father."
"My father is dead," he said sadly. "Killed and betrayed by his own men."
"Not all betrayed him," She murmured.
He was a bit confused about what she meant. His gaze turned to the vial with an orange liquid wondering what it was.
"Drink it," she advised. "It is not the cure, but it will prevent the progression from rapidly spreading. Enough time to find what you seek."
"Why?" He asked.
"The Seed of Ice for the Womb of Fire. A dynasty of no other," she answered. "But only if the Dragoness of the West has you by her side."
The knight was cautious, wondering why the Shadow-binder was helping him. The Dragon Sisters he understands, but him in general. Also, Quaithe saying that quote, that the Red Priestess in Volantis told him.
"You are bound to her," she said. "Body, spirit, and soul."
Jorah still grasping the hold magic, and clairvoyance merely nodded as he drank the orange potion. He cringed at the taste, and hopes it works to stop the rapid progression of Greyscale. Giving him more time to find a cure. Thinking about what Quaithe said about where he should go, West to Westeros where knowledge is kept in a tower to find the cure. The only place that knowledge is held in Westeros was in Oldtown, at the Citadel where the Order of Maesters resided. The Maesters kept knowledge of practically everything. There can be a chance for one of them to know how to cure Greyscale. If not…at least he could glance at Bear Island one more time. Although there was a problem, he was banished from Westeros. Even with the pardon from Robert Baratheon, the crimes he had committed has ruined his reputation. Now add the Greyscale, he would be shipped off to Old Valyria.
Does he take the final risk or not?
Daenerys gave him the order to find the cure and return to the Dragon Sisters. Ordered him to return to Alysanne, for the young Queen will need him by her side. Remembering the vision, the Targaryens saw of the fate of the world if Alysanne dies again, he must. His lover died once; he will not let her die again. And prevent the return of the Targaryen Madness.
Just a small chapter after a very long one from the previous. Hope you enjoy the chapter.
Thanks for reading and please leave a review!