Sister's Keeper
Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones
Chapter 57: The Golden Kraken
I comb my fingers through my short hair. No longer did my hair reach my hips. Instead, the golden-white locks touched to my collarbone. In the beginning, my hair reached my midback until taking part in the Dothraki customs. Never cutting it unless defeated, with the exception of a trim. However, I was defeated. Instead of combat or a battle, I was defeated by poison. The Warlock of Qarth killed me, and the Stranger collected the vessels life.
I was dead for a day.
I was in the Veil for five days.
I was brought back to life.
And not all of me returned.
It was hard to explain it. I felt like a part of me was missing. I didn't know what it was. At first, I was confused, trying to separate the false memories of Alys Mormont from Alysanne Targaryen. But it wasn't the woman who was the mother who chosen survival over greatness. A specific time of memories were gone. Memories of King's Landing. When I asked Daenerys, what was the price of bringing me back, my sister told me a part of my soul would be dead. No longer remembering my earliest childhood made me realize the little girl was dead. No longer do I remember my mother's face, nor my best friend and niece Rhaenys, or little Aegon, or Father. All the people who were there in the chamber in the tower. Elia's face was hazy, holding onto the glimpse the House of the Undying shown, and Rhaegar being fresh in my mind. Everything else was gone. I know things had happened, a common knowledge people have of their childhood…but the visuals, the sound of their voices, the smells of their perfumes, all of the senses of my beginning as a little girl were gone.
The memories that kept me going through exile were gone. All I could remember was Daenerys's birth and onward.
It pains me, as I gazed at Queen Rhaella's crown and necklace…I can't see her wearing them. My heart broke, silent tears falling down my cheeks, unable to return to the past of sweet comfort.
No words could be spoken after being resurrected. So many questions were being asked, ones I could not answer. Death, the Veil, Spirits, and Warlocks it's too much to explain. I was trying to understand what has happened. I was dead for a day. The Stranger gave me the kiss of death. The Warlocks trying to claim my fire to resurrect the Undying Ones. And then there was the conversation with the spirits. Rhaegar's final words that there are three dragons, three Targaryen's left in the world. Daenerys and I make two. So, who was the third? Could he be referring to Aemon Targaryen, who is a Maester at the Night's Watch? There are countless Targaryen Seeds all over Westeros, but by name, there are three I'm aware of. I sighed, grabbing my head.
Then the thought of the spirits. What Rhaegar, Aegon V, Rhaenyra, and Queen Alysanne talked about. Seeing the Young Dragon Daeron I, and all the others. The Targaryens who made a difference for Westeros since Aegon the Conqueror reign. All prepared for the Unknown, their mission being lost through history by the corruption in power from their descendants or other houses. Spirits who were guided by Visenya or have known her personally. They were summoned from the Seven Heavens to save me from the Warlocks. I hold much gratitude and in their debt. Although, a part of me wished Mother was there, and yet…fate denied her of greatness. A song Rhaegar wrote lingers in my head, the memory of him singing it was gone, but I remember Ser Willem singing it.
I was six it was late at night, and I couldn't sleep. Leaving my room, I walked into the library where Ser Willem was sitting by the fireplace, drinking from a flask while holding a piece of paper. He heard the door creak, looking up.
"Alysanne, what are you doing out of bed?" he asked softly.
"I couldn't sleep," I mumbled.
Ser Willem nodded, "Me neither. Come."
He gestured me over, as I did so, he picked me up and set me on his lap. I noticed the letter in his hand.
"What's that?" I asked.
"A letter from Dorne," Ser Willem answered. "Do you remember which House rules Dorne."
"House Martell," I replied. "Motto 'Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken.' Banner a red sun pierced by a golden spear on an orange field."
"Good girl," he said with a small smile. "Prince Doran wants to forge an alliance, so one day we can go home."
I nodded, touching the orange wax seal. "I miss mommy."
"She was a beautiful woman," he sighed. "But you need to be strong. Not like your grandaunt Jenny."
"Who?" I asked.
"Jenny Oldstone, she was married to your Grand-uncle Duncan. He abdicated the throne so he could be with her." He answered.
"What happened to her?" I asked.
Ser Willem tried to explain to what happens to Jenny Oldstone. At the time, I did not know it was Jenny who brought the Wood Witch who prophesized through the bloodline of Aerys and Rhaella will the prince who was promise shall be reborn. Instead of telling me the actual story, he set the letter down, took a swig from his flask, and sang me the story.
High in the halls of the kings who are gone
Jenny would dance with her ghosts
The ones she had lost and the ones she had found
And the ones who had loved her the most
The ones who'd been gone for so very long
She couldn't remember their names
They spun her around on the damp old stones
Spun away all her sorrow and pain
And she never wanted to leave
Never wanted to leave.
Never wanted to leave
Never wanted to leave
They danced through the day and into the night
Through the snow that swept through the hall
From winter to summer then winter again
Till the walls did crumble and fall
And she never wanted to leave
Never wanted to leave
Never wanted to leave
Never wanted to leave
And she never wanted to leave…
I fell asleep, never hearing the rest of his song. Now realizing the truth about my grandaunt Jenny, learning she had survived the Tragedy of Summerhall. So many Targaryens died in the devastations along with fellow companions. As Aegon, the Fifth tried to resurrect the two dragon eggs with forgotten magic. While my grandparents and parent survived along with the birth of Rhaegar…Jenny died from a broken heart years later. She returned to Oldstone to the place where she met Duncan, some said she had gone mad, but I believe it was her grief, as the ruins reminded her of the aftermath of Summerhall. Or so that has been told.
I sighed, closing my eyes singing the last verse of the song:
"High in the halls of the kings who are gone
Jenny would dance with her ghosts
The ones she had lost and the ones she had found
And the ones who had loved her the most…"
Viserion nudged me sensing my internal struggle. Ever since waking up, I've been taking comfort in the golden dragon. Let alone the fact that he doesn't want me out of his sight. The only time he would let me leave was if it was late that I must rest in my chambers. Lately, security has become intense. Not only do I have Viserion, but Ser Barristan and four other Unsullied have been accompanying me. One Unsullied even volunteered to be my taste tester. Before I eat or drink anything from a pitcher, the soldier named Red Rock would sample it. At this point, I've given up on consuming anything that contains alcohol. I mainly drink water, pomegranate juice, and tea. Anything fermented I can't consume.
I adjusted myself and hugged the dragon. Ignoring the stares from the guards in the field. Even though I feel lost, the firm ground of stability was through Viserion. There was a communication barrier, yet Viserion knows me better than anyone else. He knows I don't want to talk about death. Everyone wants to know what happened. What the other side was like, although the thing was, I was not in the Seven Heavens or Hells. I wasn't in the Father's Golden Hall. Nor was there nothing. I was in the Veil that took hold of my deepest desire.
I don't want to talk about Joren. The little boy from my dreams that will never be. Or that Jorah risked his life to save me yet again, and learning how far his Greyscale has progressed. Taking his entire left arm and upper back and chest. Jorah is out there alone, dying from an incurable disease. All he ever does is save me, no matter what his state of health was, and I've done nothing for him. Banished him twice in trying to keep the honor of my word.
"Alys," Daenerys called out.
I turned around, facing my sister. Remembering the vision Queen Alysanne had showed me of Daenerys's fate if I were to die. There was no account of the Great War. Only that my sweet sister would have turned into a tyrant destroying King's Landing, becoming the Queen of the Ashes and the ruler of all. I remember our previous conversation about my ruling Westeros and her taking over Essos. The return of the Valyrian Freehold. Unfortunately, that is not possible. Two people cannot rule the world, nor can one person. As much as Slavery is terrible, the vision showed Daenerys being a slaver to all in her madness.
I also questioned her decisions lately. She used magic on me to bring me back from the dead. Has she not forgotten the last time she used magic to resurrect the dead? Of course, the magic that was used was fire magic, but I feel something dark. Especially from a fanatical religion of the R'hllor faith. Magic is not something to mess with. Hadn't Mirri Maz Duur told her before, using magic has a price? Magic has a price, and I feel like Daenerys killed my childhood to bring me back.
"If you're going to ask what it's like on the other side, I'm not going to tell you," I said. "You, Tyrion, or anyone else."
"Of course, death is something personal," Daenerys replied.
I turned around rubbing Viserion's neck.
"You're mad at me?" She asked.
I took a deep breath, "You know how I feel about magic."
"But you use Dragon Magic," she reminded.
"The magic we use with the dragons is entirely different from blood magic or dark magic." I scolded.
"You were dead!" Daenerys snapped. "I held you in my arms when the poison put you in a coma. Two days being by your side. And on the third day, you were dead. I lost Rhaego, Drogo…I couldn't lose you. You're the only family I had left. If I could trade my life to save yours, I will."
I sighed, walking over and hugged her. Daenerys didn't sob or cry, but her body trembled. I sound like a hypocrite. I would watch a kingdom fall if Daenerys were dying and do anything to save her.
"I'm sorry," I sighed. "I fear the consequences of using magic to revive the dead. A part of me is missing. I can no longer remember Mother's face or anyone from Westeros."
Daenerys tensed when hearing this.
"And what the Warlocks did…was the cruelest thing anyone could have done." I whispered. "Trapped in a dream that can never be true."
Daenerys nodded.
I took a deep breath, "I need time to adjust. Dying made me realize a few things."
"And what is that?" she asked.
"Curiosity killed the cat," I reminded her.
She nodded, realizing I had a point. I then lifted her chin to look her in the eye, "Next time, if I do die…let me stay dead."
"But you are a dragon," she said.
"I'm also human," I said. "Remember what I told you, we are nothing without the dragons. We are human. We may be immune to fire, but anything else can kill us." I took a deep breath. "Now, you have a choice. You can fly with me or run along."
This time Daenerys smiled as she summoned Drogon. We got on our dragons, taking to the sky flying over Meereen from the City to the valley region. Racing through the hills, plains, and rivers. When we made our way back to Meereen, I noticed dark sails approaching the bay. I scowled, looking at Daenerys who noticed this as well, black sails usually meant pirates. Ensuring this was not a raid, the dragons soar into the bay, inspecting the fleet.
That was when we got a better look of the sails, it appeared to be a giant gold squid on a field of black. No…a kraken. My eyes widen, remembering that when the krakens arrive to lead their aid, it will be time to sail back to Westeros. Along the post were the white flags indicating parley, that they were not a threat. I ordered Daenerys to return to the City and get the Unsullied prepared for company and Tyrion in preparation for an audience. As Daenerys did so, I had Viserion fly over the fleet as a warning not to attack Meereen. I will not hesitate to strike them down with fire. Afterward, I return to the Great Pyramid.
Once Viserion landed, I got off making my way to the Pyramid. Ser Barristan came over along with four other Unsullied.
"Daenerys told us a fleet was sailing in," Ser Barristan informed.
"Golden Kraken on a black field," I said. "House Greyjoy?"
"Yes, but they are too far from Westeros to be raiding and pillaging," Ser Barristan replied.
"Well, they are not one of the naval Houses I requested for support," I said, as we made our way inside. "I want the city on lockdown, only one boat worth of Iron Born is allowed into Meereen, and they will be escorted directly to me in the Audience Hall."
"Yes, Your Grace," Ser Barristan said.
"I want you, Lord Tyrion, Grey Worm, and the best Unsullied to be there. Ensure that all weapons are stripped," I added.
Ser Barristan nodded, having a slight smile written on his face.
"What's with that smile?" I asked him.
"It makes me proud in how much you have grown as a strong leader," he answered.
I nodded, not sure how to respond to that before going inside.
.o0o.
I sat on the ebony bench, looking down at the two Greyjoys. The last living children of Baelon Greyjoy. Ser Barristan informed me that their eldest brothers Rodrick and Maron died during the Greyjoy Rebellion. The youngest son was taken to be Ned Stark's ward, as a precaution that if Baelon dared rebel again, the Warden of the North would execute the boy. Analyzing them, they don't appear to be children.
The woman, Yara Greyjoy appeared to be in her mid-twenties, lean and long-legged, with sea-grey eyes and short brown hair that reaches her shoulders. Her face is thin, with a big, sharp nose, and wind-chafed skin. As for the man, Theon, was a different story, for a man who is supposed to be around Daenerys age, he looked older, his face hollow and sunken, grey eyes that appeared empty, while his dark hair had white strands. Another broken soul, both mentally and physically.
Ser Barristan and Tyrion stood by my side.
"Last time we saw each other was at Winterfell, yes?" Tyrion asked Theon. "You were making jokes about my height; I seem to recall."
Theon looked down for a second then started back at Tyrion, not saying a word.
"Everyone who makes a joke about a dwarf's height thinks he's the only person to make a joke about dwarf's height. 'The height of nobility,' 'a man of your stature,' someone to look up to.' You're all making the same five or six jokes." Tyrion added.
"It was a long time ago," Theon said.
"It was," Tyrion agreed. "And how have things been going for you since then? Not so well, I gather."
Theon lips tighten, looking away.
"Can't imagine you would have murdered the Stark boys if things had been going well." Tyrion continued.
"I didn't murder the Stark boys," Theon defended himself. "But I did things that were just as bad or worse."
"And he paid for them," Yara confirmed.
"Doesn't seem like it. He's still alive. It was complicated for you, I'm sure, growing up at Winterfell. Never quite knowing who you were. But then, we all live complicated lives, don't we?" Tyrion casually taunt.
I changed the subject, "You've brought us a hundred ships from the Iron Fleet with men to sail them. In return, I expect you want me to support your claim to the throne of the Iron Islands?"
As I looked at Theon since Westeros is based on a patriarchal society.
"Not my claim. Hers." Theon said, nodding his head towards his sister.
This caught me by surprise, "And what's wrong with you?"
"I'm not fit to rule," Theon answered sadly.
"We can agree upon that at least," Tyrion said.
"Enough, the Greyjoys are our guest. You will show them courtesy." I lectured softly.
"Forgive me," Tyrion apologized.
I turned my attention to Yara, "Has the Iron Islands ever had a queen before?"
"No more than Westeros," Yara replied.
Only one since Rhaenyra half-year reign, I thought.
"Our Uncle Euron returned home after a long absence. He murdered our father and took the Salt Throne from Yara." Theon explained. "He would have murdered us if we'd stayed."
"Lord Tyrion and Ser Barristan tell me your father was a terrible king," I noted.
"You and I have that in common," Yara countered.
I nodded, "We do. And both murdered by a usurper as well."
I faced Ser Barristan, "Will their ships be enough?"
"With the former Masters' fleet, it's still not enough to secure the Dothraki forces and supplies." Ser Barristan replied.
Eight thousand Unsullied, two thousand recruited soldiers, two thousand Second Son, including their horses. Two war elephants that have been in the Pyramid, and now add a rough estimation of a hundred thousand Dothraki and their horses. Along with supplies that can last a few years. So, Varys needs to gather enough naval houses to join our cause.
"There are, and Euro is building more," Theon confirmed. "He's going to offer them to you."
"So why shouldn't I wait for him?" I asked.
"The Iron Fleet isn't all he's bringing," Theon answered, then hesitated on the second part. "He also wants to give you…"
"His big cock, I think he said." Yara finished. "Euron's offer is also an offer of marriage, you see. You won't get one without the other."
I scoffed, rolling my eyes. As if I am willing to exchange my hand in marriage for a fleet. Xaro Xhaon Daxos tried that, and he betrayed me. Capturing the dragons and handing them to Pyat Pree. Killing three of Daenerys Dothraki screamers, having Doreah strangle Irri to death, and slaughter the Thirteen. Then there was the Great Masters trying to form a marital alliance to be subdued by the Sons of the Harpy. The insurgent's stabbed Hizdahr zo Loraq during the Great Game. From all, I can tell, political marriages when forced upon does nothing but bring death. Still, I want to see what these two siblings are willing to offer and what they want in exchange.
"And I imagine your offer is free of any marriage demands?" I asked.
Yara smirked, "I never demand, but I'm up for anything, really."
A surprised smile twitched my lips. Unfortunately, I prefer men over women in a sexual manner. Not that I am against homosexuality, even though it goes against the faith of the Seven. Whatever happens behind closed doors is none of my concern.
"He murdered our father and would have murdered us," Theon said. "He'll murder you as soon as you have what he wants."
"The Seven Kingdoms," Tyrion assumed.
"All of them," Theon confirmed.
"And you don't want the Seven Kingdoms?" I asked.
"Your ancestors defeated ours and took the Iron Islands. We ask you to give them back." Theon answered.
"And that's all?" I asked.
"We'd like you to help us murder an uncle or two who don't think a woman's fit to rule," Yara added.
"I'm about justice, not revenge," I reminded. "But seeing that your uncle committed fratricide then it seems reasonable to lend my support."
"What if everyone starts demanding their independence?" Tyrion asked.
"She's not demanding, she's asking," I corrected. "The others are free to ask, as well."
If you think about it, there are not Seven Kingdoms to rule. In the beginning, when Aegon the Conqueror took Westeros, he claimed the Six of the original Seven. It would be some time before Dorne came into the fold, and declaring the Crownlands as a capital district, not kingdom itself until later on in the Targaryen Monarchy. Currently, there are Nine: The Crownlands, the Iron Islands, Dorne, the Stormlands, the Reach, the Westerlands, the Riverlands, the Vale of Arryn, and the North. If I follow according to tradition, I need to focus on Seven Kingdoms. The Iron Islands was a small cluster of barren rock. The inhabitants living there since the beginning of time before the first men. Over time the Iron Born adapt in their own society. However, their culture would still be considered a threat to their traditions of piracy.
"Our fathers were evil men, all of us here. They left the world worse than they found it. We're not going to do that. We're going to leave the world better than we found it." I said, standing up.
Yara nodded pleased.
"You will support my claim as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and respect the integrity of the Seven Kingdoms," I said, walking over to her. "No more reaving, roving, raiding, or raping."
Yara shook her head, "That's our way of life."
"No more," I warned. "Accept this offer, if you or your descendants dare go against this deal, I will remind the Iron Born what Aegon the Conqueror did to House Hoare, and Pyke shall become the second Harrenhal."
Yara stared into my eyes, seeing if I was bluffing. But I wasn't. I learned from my mistakes with the Masters. I will not do the same with the Westerosi. And knowing the Iron Born's reputation, they do not deserve second or third chances. So, if Yara wants to be the Salt Queen of the Iron Islands and claim the kingdom's independence, she better follows to these terms. Realizing I meant what I said, her eyes widen. She glanced at Theon, who nodded, accepting the terms.
"No more," She promised, offering a hand to bind the contract.
Remembering how the Iron Born shake, I grabbed her elbow and she grabbed mine. We shook on it. Sealing the alliance between the Greyjoys and the Targaryens. The krakens have arrived. It was time to finally prepare for the invasion. It was time to return home and assemble the Seven Kingdoms for the Great War that is to come. Winter was coming, and it comes with a vengeance
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