Sister's Keeper
Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52
Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones
Warning: This Chapter is rated M for Sexual Content
Chapter 68: Bear, My Sweet Bear...
Dragonstone
Jon was standing on the cliffs watching the lone green dragon soar through the skies. The biggest dragon of black scales and the golden one had flown west to Westeros to retake Highgarden. A part of him wonders how Queen Alysanne will address the men who surrender. His thoughts linger back to the Battle of the Bastards. Not his proudest moment, one he will have to take to his grave. Unable to save his youngest brother, Rickon. When faced with the children of House Umber and House Karstark, he had a choice to punished them for their father's crimes of betraying House Stark. Instead, he had them bend the knee, address their fealty, and give them a second chance. Will the Dragon Queen have the same mercy as him?
The White Wolf sighed, fearing in what is happening in the Reach. A Field of Fire, Ser Davos called it on repeat. A land of flammable greenery that could quickly burn in mere seconds. He crossed paths with Lady Olenna, who was pleased when the Queen took her army West to reclaim what was her grandsons' home. Also, obtain the harvest that was stolen. The North was a seasonal land, it can't grow every vegetable the entire year. The North relied on root vegetables, wild berries, and animals. When he ate some dishes here during his stay, he tasted herbs and spices he never tasted before. Even given a fruit that doesn't even grow in Westeros. So, a cultural difference indeed, not from the South, but from the east.
Either way, his goal is still continuing as is. He has Queen Alysanne on his side, with the support of her Unsullied Army, her navy, and her dragon, along with the dragonglass. Daenerys, on the other hand, is someone he truly needs to convince since the Princess has the most massive forces. The more forces they have, the higher chance of survival. A hundred thousand Dothraki screamers can even the score. Deciding it was best to check on the mines, he turns to head back.
Just as he was walking, the green dragon swooped down and almost knocked him over. Jon hated that, as he glared at the dragon who landed before him. He recalled the green one's name was Rhaegal, named after Prince Rhaegar. Rhaegal crawled closer to Jon, sniffing the air around him. Jon was hesitant, not sure what to do as Rhaegal lips curled revealing its teeth. Curious, though cautious, Jon removed his glove and slowly stretched his hand out, shaking to the core. Rhaegal stepped closer, sniffing his hand till the snarling stopped. Jon took it as a good sign and placed his hand on the dragon's nose. It felt like scaly patches of leather, warm and cold at the same time.
Jon was amazed, petting a dragon for the first time. As he continues to pet Rhaegal, he stared into the dragon's yellow eyes. Sensing a connection, the same with Ghost.
Two loud thuds broke the connection, as both man and dragon turned their head to see Drogon and Viserion landing. The massive black dragon kneels down, allowing his rider to step off. Daenerys, who witnessed the two bonding was impressed. Rhaegal has always been a stubborn dragon, then again, he was still considered a wild dragon without a rider. Meanwhile, Alysanne who remained on Viserion, her face was masked from her helm. So many thoughts were running through her head since Rhaegal might have bonded with Jon Snow. Making her theory about Jon's parentage even more severe, since only those with Valyrian blood of the dragonlords can imprint with a dragon. Overwhelmed, she took Viserion into the sky, wanting to clear her head.
Daenerys noticed this, though thought the reason for her sister's departure was the stress from the Battle of the Goldroad. After the Lannister and Tarly Armies surrendered, they went over the injured and the casualties. Over a two hundred men died, for this group that was transporting cargo from the harvest. They stayed to give the fallen a proper burial. Sighing, Daenerys walked over to Jon and watched the three dragons fly.
"They're beautiful, aren't they?" She asked.
"It wasn't the word I was thinking of, but…but, yes, they are." He answered. "Gorgeous beasts."
"They're not beasts to me," Daenerys said. "No matter how big they get or how terrifying to everyone else thinks they are, they're my children."
Jon thought she had lost her mind. When he got Ghost, he didn't see the runt of the pack as his son. No, he thought of Ghost as his friend. His brother. But to compare an animal to a personal child …didn't seem right.
"You weren't gone long," Jon noted.
"No," she said, with a disappointed look.
"And?"
She looked at him, "And we have fewer enemies today then we did yesterday. If not more prisoners."
Jon didn't know how to respond to that comment. Debating on whether or not to ask her on the details. If it were Daenerys's way, there would have been more casualties and execution towards those who refused to bend the knee.
"You're not sure how you feel about that," Daenerys murmured.
"No, I'm not," he said.
"How many men did your army kill taking Winterfell from the Boltons?" She asked as she started to walk.
Jon followed her, "Thousands."
"We both want to help people. We can only help them from a position of strength. Sometimes strength is terrible," She said and looked at him. "When you first came here, Ser Davos said you took a knife in the heart for your people."
"Ser Davos gets carried away," Jon lied.
"So, it was a figure of speech?" She murmured.
Jon sighed, shaking his head until hearing footsteps approaching. They both turned to see four Dothraki riders escorting an Andal. Kovarro, who had earlier caught this man couldn't help but smile. The intruder being a familiar face of the Khalasar.
"An old friend has returned, Khaleesi," Kovarro said, as he stepped aside revealing none other than Ser Jorah Mormont.
Daenerys composure changed as she rushed to see her dear friend. The last time she saw Ser Jorah was back in Vaes Dothrak. She had ordered him to find the cure and return to them. To return to their family. Having forgiven him of his betrayal, and knowing how vital the Knight was. The man who she saw as a father figure. Jon observed her behavior, noticing the change in personality.
"Indeed, a dear old friend," Daenerys replied.
Ser Jorah came forward bending the knee, "Your Highness."
He then stood up, noticing the Khaleesi had company. Jorah's eyes slightly widen as he prevented a scowl from showing. Looking at the man who had Rhaegar's face, except darker hair and eyes, and facial hair. The memory of Rhaegar in the Veil was still fresh in his mind.
"Jon Snow, this is Ser Jorah Mormont, an old friend," Daenerys introduced.
"I served with your father," Jon said. "He was a great man."
"You look strong. You found a cure?" Daenerys asked.
"I wouldn't be here if I hadn't," Jorah answered.
Daenerys nodded with a smile as she walked over to give him a hug. Jorah returned the embrace in a fatherly way. When they pulled back, a screech could be heard, catching everyone's attention to Viserion who landed. Daenerys couldn't help but smile, curious in where this reunion will go. Jorah took a deep breath, knowing it was Alysanne as she climbed down from Viserion. She walked over to the small gathering and stood in front of them as she removed her helmet. Daenerys being considerate, took hold imagining the outcome. Although her sister's face was neutral.
"Ser Jorah," Alysanne addressed to him.
"My Queen," Jorah replied with a bow, bending the knee. "I return to your service, my Queen, if you'll have me."
Blue and indigo eyes locked to one another. Daenerys was confused as were the others in the group. Why wasn't Alysanne accepting Ser Jorah immediately? She thought her sister loved Ser Jorah. Slowly, the Dragon Queen removed her gloves and a gauntlet from her right hand, and cradled Ser Jorah's cheek.
"It would be my honor," Alysanne murmured.
Ser Jorah gave a sigh of relief. Before he could even stand, she knelt down, hugging him dearly. The Knight suppressed a groan, his scars still tender as her armor pressed into his body, despite the gambeson covering him. Still, his arms immediately wrapped around her, cherishing her embrace. He had countless dreams of holding his paramour and Queen in his arms again, and finally he was holding, it wasn't just a dream. Despite the opportunity in the Veil and the chaste touch after the Great Games, it had been over a year since they have physically touched.
Jon observed this, wondering if there was something more between them or not. He recalled the time when his father sailed to Bear Island to execute Ser Jorah on selling poachers as slaves. A crime that cannot be forgiven. The same man who disappointed the previous Lord Commander. He was curious in knowing the story but remained quiet thinking it was best to ask later.
Alysanne stood up, offering him a hand which Jorah accepted.
"It has been a long day," Alysanne said.
Before Jorah could respond, Alysanne collected her helm and headed back to the castle. The Knight stood there, not sure what happened. Then again, it will take more than appearing out of nowhere to regain her trust. He already prepared himself for rejection, for his goal was to be by her side. Daenerys walked over, patting his shoulder.
"Give her time," Daenerys murmured.
Ser Jorah nodded.
His attention turning back to Alysanne.
Something happened. He saw it in her eyes, the same look she had when receiving a vision or a nightmare. Doubting Daenerys knew the lengths of her sister's visions, he kept it to himself. He will ask Alysanne when he has the opportunity.
"It's getting late," Daenerys said. "Let's go inside and rest."
It was the afternoon, yet many were exhausted from the long travel. Jorah and Jon nodded as they went towards the castle with the Dothraki. When Jorah asked who else was here, Daenerys informed him that Missandei and Varys were on the island, Tyrion and Ser Barristan were leading the Dothraki back to Dragonstone, along with Aggo who has learned Common Tongue as their translator. Grey Worm and the Unsullied were marching forward to the Twin's to siege the Freys and hopefully rescue Edmure Tully to get the Riverlands on their side. Jorah nodded, seeing the Campaign was on track.
.o0o.
Alysanne's POV
I was overwhelmed, and things keep adding onto it. When I returned to Dragonstone and saw Rhaegal, the wild dragon who will growl at anyone who approaches him without a treat or been there since he was a hatchling. Rhaegal simply came over to Jon Snow and allowed the White Wolf to pet him as Visenya whispered in my ear that they were bonding. I don't know if this confirms my theory, especially the coincidence that is was Rhaegal being named after my brother. However, dragons can only bond with those of Valyrian descent. Most prominently, descended from the Dragonlords and Dragonriders.
Needing to clear my head, after purging and cremating the dead and being tormented from the vision, I took to the sky. Viserion flew around when, suddenly, I felt this strange pull. Looking down from the sky, I noticed Daenerys and King Snow with the Dothraki talking, but there was a man in the party dressed in Westerosi attire. So, when Viserion landed, and I joined the group, I was shocked to see Ser Jorah. Many emotions were swirling in my head, that I basically shut down. Not sure how to respond.
All I could do is accept him and hugged him, confirming that he was real. Not questioning if he had Greyscale or not since he was here. He wouldn't be here if he weren't cured. In the end, I headed inside needing a moment. I was just overwhelmed; everything was happening so fast. However, before I can even hide in my cave, I went to find Lady Olenna. Knowing the Queen of Thorns, I headed to Aegon's Garden.
It wasn't long before I found the Matriarch of House Tyrell sitting on a bench watching the scenery with her little birds. The ladies in waiting were sewing until looking up at me surprised and turned to their Lady. Lady Olenna turned her head and started.
"So…" she greeted.
"We intercepted the harvest trade and secured Highgarden," I announced. "Unfortunately, we were not able to stop the wagons that had property of value."
"Valuables can be replaced," Lady Olenna assured. "The fact you collected the harvest and secured my grandson's home is all that matters."
"You can send a raven to Lord Willas," I told her. "I have Lord Randyll Tarly and his son in my custody."
"You didn't execute them?" She asked, surprised.
I shook my head, "I figure it was best that the Warden of the Reach punish their vassal traitors. Unless I see some use in them."
Lady Olenna nodded.
"If you'll excuse me," I said, and departed making my way back to my chamber.
There Missandei waited, as she helped me out of my armor, removed the braid. She felt my hair and noticed it was somewhat oily.
"Shall I draw a bath tonight, your grace?" Missandei asked.
"Yes, I'd very much appreciate it," I answered.
"Also, dinner taken up to your chambers?" She offered.
I simply nodded.
Once Missandei was done with my hair, she helped me into casual wear before leaving to help Daenerys. Securing my robe, I walked over to the balcony watching the horizon. Watching Viserion, Rhaegal, and Drogon hunting about catching large fish.
'You're avoiding him,' Visenya murmured.
'You're right,' I confessed.
'You're afraid.' She noted. 'Not sure that the Veil was real, if he was truly there, and the possible future. You had prepared yourself that he was dead and now he comes back to you.'
'I don't want to be betrayed again…or lose him,' I sighed. 'If I let him in…I can never let him go.'
'You made a promise to yourself, that you will only marry for love. Yes, he is an exiled man, relinquishing his claim on Bear Island, but he has sworn himself to you.' She murmured. 'You are a dragon of fire, and he is a bear of ice. If you think about it, your union with Ser Jorah can begin the process of having the North return to the Seven Kingdoms."
I blushed never thinking about that.
'However, there are so many emotions you need to get off your chest,' She added. 'When Aegon put so much attention to Rhaenys, I felt so much anger, distracting myself with the conquest. When my sweet sister died, the wounds were ripped open again until Aegon and I talked. A dragon who holds much of his or her emotions within themselves is a dangerous creature.'
I took a deep breath, knowing she was right. I have been distracting myself trying to avoid the emotions of loss and heartbreak. Even though I have forgiven Jorah for betraying me, the emotions still linger. Also, with all that has happened, I need to get stuff off my chest. Visenya has helped to grasp the events that transpired, but…Jorah knew better. Tonight. I will talk to him tonight.
I walked over to the chest where the dragon eggs were kept. I picked up the blue egg tracing the patterns. Gods give me strength.
.o0o.
Dragonstone had a natural hot spring. The Valyrians took advantage of that, as the Targaryens carved bathing chambers for social gathering. My Ancestor, Aenar, took a selfish approach as he made an attached bathing chamber for the Master Apartment. A pool of hot water ready, when you pull the lever. I soaked in the hot water, letting the minerals absorb themselves into my veins while my head over the edge where Missandei started washing my hair. Ever since my hair was cut short, the process of washing my hair was cut in half. I zoned out due to Missandei's touches, trying not to think about tonight's meeting with Ser Jorah.
I felt like an innocent maiden all over again with a suitor requesting for an appointment. However, I was the one who requested Ser Jorah's presence. There were so many questions I want to ask, but most importantly, where does our relationship go from here? It has been over a year since I exiled him…yet he had come back twice and saved my life, only he continued his exile because of the disease.
"Missandei," I murmured.
"Yes, Your Grace," She replied.
"After the bath, you are free this evening and tomorrow as well. I will manage by myself," I told her.
She smiled softly, "As my Queen commands."
I nodded as she gave me the daily reports that I have missed during my departure. Apparently, Theon Greyjoy and three of the ships have returned. He asks that I help him rescue Yara. I scowled slightly since Yara's decision to travel by the coast instead of the Leviathan Trail has costed us her fleet. When I asked Missandei about Tyene Sand, my confidant informed me Theon doesn't know if the Sand Snake was dead or captured alive. I made a mental note to have Varys's little birds confirm this.
Once done with my bath, I dried off and changed into my chemise, Missandei excused herself for the night. Just as she opened the door, Ser Jorah was standing there about to knock. She greeted the Knight, letting him in before making her departure. I fastened my robe, staring at him, seeing him standing there in his attire almost resembling his first attire back in Pentos.
"My Queen," he greeted.
I took a deep breath, "I remember that I allow you to call me by my given name."
A small smiled graced his lips, "Alysanne."
I nodded, smiling a little almost forgetting how he said my name. We stood there, each of us on opposite sides of the room. He looked much healthier, no longer weatherworn. Seeing him here it was hard to start a conversation. Jorah seemed to have the same problem, as he opened his mouth only to close it.
"Well, this is a first," I mumbled.
Jorah nodded as he rubbed his neck.
There was so much I wanted to say, want to ask him, yet the words won't come out.
"You look better," he said.
"As do you…you found a cure?" I asked.
"I wouldn't be here if I hadn't," he answered.
"Where…how?" I asked, curious, and hope to thank the person who saved him.
"At the Citadel, barely any Maesters would take my case except for an apprentice. He was willing to be expelled," he said. "An excruciating procedure."
"I hope one day, I can meet him and thank him personally," I said.
"As do I," he agreed.
I nodded, then shuddered, feeling a bit cold. Even though I have been in Westeros for over two months, maybe three now, I was still not used to the climate. Essos had longer summers, and the climate always humid except for Braavos. Now I return during the start of winter, even with the layers, I feel a bit cold. Jorah noticed this as he walked over to the fireplace and put in another log.
"You will adjust to the climate in time," he assured.
"That is easy for you to say, Bear," I jest.
Jorah smiled slightly, hearing the nickname I had given him.
I then sighed, taking a seat by the chair near the fireplace. The tension returning between us. Neither of us not sure what to say. Still finding it hard to believe he was here. Jorah, sensing this, turned to face me. The last time we were together was in Meereen, we thought was our last goodbye. Never to see each other again until the afterlife or the next life. We put our differences aside, thinking he would be dead. But here he was now. So many emotions, good and negative were stirring inside me. I want to hate him and love him, to hit him and kiss him at the same time. As if he was reading my mind, he sighs, drawing his dagger, holding it vertical across his face.
"I swear to the old gods and the new, and by the steel which I hold that I give you my fealty and pledge my loyalty," Jorah vowed, adjusting the blade that the tip was pressed against his chest and the handle towards me. "If ever I betray you again, then I ask that this steel might pierce my heart."
He bowed his head and wait. I didn't know what to do, for I was not aware of this custom. It must be a northern thing, since Ser Barristan never performed such a sacred vow, and Tyrion never mentioned it for the Westerlands and Crownlands. Perplexed by this, I stared at him. He looked up, seeing the confusion.
"Is it not enough, Alysanne?" he asked, lowering the blade. "Do you not want me anymore?
He sheathed his dagger, sadness clouding his eyes.
"Do you wish for me to leave?" He asked. "If you command it, I shall leave and serve with the Dothraki."
"Well, that's what I should do. Make you earn your rank…" I replied, placing my right hand on his chest. "But I don't want you to leave."
Jorah caressed my hand, massaging the fingers with his thumb as he looked at the conqueror ring. The charm that sealed my fate of taking back the Seven Kingdoms. As if he knew what the charm meant or had a memory of his own.
"Made out of a key," he thought aloud.
"What?" I asked.
"If I gave you a ring, it would be made from my key to Mormont Keep," Jorah murmured as he took my hand to kiss the knuckles. "Something made from my home, never out of gold with a jewel."
My eyes widen, remembering him saying that in the Veil. So, he was indeed there in the Veil. I did not dream of him there, or his spirit in death.
"Jorah…"
"I don't know if I ever will get back to Bear Island. I thought…that thought does not pain me as much as it once might have." He cradled my cheek. "You are my home now."
The tension turned into a strong pull, a string pulling us together as our eyes locked. Jorah hesitantly leaned forward as his lips pressed against mine. I gasped, only to move my lips against his. Our lips moved together, the passion rekindling after so long of being apart. His hands moved to my sides, feeling my arms and shoulders, softly yanking the robe down, along with the chemise exposing my left shoulder. Breaking the kiss, his lips traced along my neck until reaching the scar from the Pit. He kissed the scarred skin and traced his tongue along it sending shivers down my spine.
"I want you, Alysanne." He panted; his hand carefully tangled in my hair. "I want you so much, I can scarcely breathe."
His other arm wrapped around my waist pulled me closer to him. Leaning forward some that his lips barely grazed my own.
"Will you have me?" He asked.
"Yes," I answered, kissing him again. "Yes, I will have you."
Our lips clashed once more as his hands worked on the shift pulling it down to reveal my upper body, exposing my breasts. Breaking away for a moment to work on his clothes, as our hands worked on the claps for the gambeson, along with the belt. Next working on the shirt, untying the strings. He yanked it off, revealing himself. I leaned forward to kiss him, my hands feeling his side lost in the moment, until touching his skin. I pulled back, staring at the severe scarring that has consumed his entire left arm, and the upper portion of his chest and torso. Livid scars that were patched around in different shades, some in rope texture while others indented. My eyes widen, seeing how much the Greyscale had consumed. He mentioned the extent of his affliction has taken him in the Veil…but I didn't think how severe. Now looking at the scars…it was like the infected tissue was cut off.
Jorah cradled my face, pulling my attention away from his scars and back to his eyes, "I'm all right."
"Does it hurt?" I whispered.
"A bit," he confessed. "But not like the treatment."
I was going to ask him about that, except I lost my train of thought as he kissed me again. His tongue licked my lips, begging for access. I open my mouth, allowing him access as he thrust his tongue inside. Meanwhile, his hands caressed my body, his left hand moving up to cradle my cheek, while the right sliding up until between my legs rubbing my core. I gasped then moaned, rocking my hips into his hand, seeking gratification from his touches. It wasn't until he slides his finger inside me that I broke the kiss and moaned. It's been so long to feel loved like this, not being with another man since exiling him. There were times I had tried to pleasure myself, yet I obtain no satisfaction, only frustration. I moaned again as he stroked me, his thumb caressing my clitoris. He leaned down, sucking on my breast, drawing my nipple deep in his mouth. He closed his eyes, pulling me closer that I was almost off the chair. He toyed with that sacred pleasurable spot between my thighs, swiping over the pearl and gem over and over. My breaths caught to a point there was a coil in my stomach.
"Jorah," I cried.
He nipped my breast and growl softly in satisfaction as he felt me tremble in his arms. My orgasm nearly approaching. Only I don't want to be undone like this. Once I felt wet by his fingers sliding inside me with much ease, I worked on his trousers, yanking at the strings to come loose and pushing the fabric down his thighs, already he was erect. Jerking his hand out of me, I pushed him down onto the rug and straddle his waist. Not waiting any longer, I grabbed his member and guided him inside me. I gasped, his cock stretching my walls to accommodate to his size, feeling both pleasure and pain. The pain of a sharp sting, causing my eyes to water to near tears, as if I was losing my maidenhead for a second time.
"Alysanne," Jorah groaned, hands roughly grabbing my hips.
Our bodies were desperate for touch. No doubt, he had isolated himself from human contact as I have physical confinement. Our bodies needing release, not foreplay. Desperately I rocked my hips back and forth, his cock sliding in and out of me grazing the spot inside while rubbing my clitoris against his pelvic bone. My hands pressed against his chest, pushing him down restraining to the ground, unable to move. Although he moved his hips against mine, his blue eyes on me as he touched the deepest places inside me.
Still, the pent-up emotions were bursting, as my left hand went around his neck, shaping to his jaw. Meanwhile, I grabbed the dagger, forcing it out of its case and pressed the blade against his jugular. His eyes widen, body almost paralyzed while I continue to rock my hips.
"Listen to me." I panted, hissing venom. "If you ever betray me again, Jorah Mormont, I will cut your heart out and feed it to Viserion. Do you understand me?" I continued to move, tightening my grip on his neck. "Do you?"
"Aye… you have my word," he promised.
I nodded tossing the dagger aside, rocking faster against him. Jorah sat up, grabbing my wrist restraining me. He let go, placing my hand around his neck while he grabbed hold of me. His right hand groping my left breast. His thrusts becoming harder that I was losing my bearings to a point I wrapped my legs around him. Not a second later, he pulled me over his body, rolling us, so he was on top. My eyes widen as I gasped feeling him go deep. I closed my eyes as he rocked his hips, thrusting against me with increasing force. He made a sound that was almost a groan and gripped me tighter. All our pent-up emotions being expressed through our bodies. I struggled to try to grab him, except he pinned me down, hammering away, pounding to a point it was against my womb with each stroke.
I quivered and moaned, my muscles clenching in spasms against his member that battered me. Pain and pleasure rolled into one, there was nothing I could do but surrender. Accepting the assault. Beads of sweat ran down his neck as it did the same on my body. Our flesh meeting, basically smacking from each blow. My thighs trembled around his waist, trying to hold onto from each impact, trying to return the favor.
"Jorah!" I cried when he struck that spot.
Jorah grabbed my hips, changing the angle as he penetrated me harder. Over and over, striking that spot that had me gasping, until the coil in my stomach snapped and my entire body convulsed. He felt my orgasm tighten around him, groaning in near agony, as he bows his head into my neck thrusting erratically until he could not hold it any longer. He pulled out and released onto my thigh before collapsing on top of me.
We panted lost in the sensation in what has happened, the euphoric bliss rushing in our veins. Jorah moved slightly to the side, his hand caressing my neck and chest, as the haze covered his eyes. Leaning closer, I wrapped my leg over his waist and cradle his cheek. A smile lifted his lips as he took my hand and kissed it. Although the moment filled our physical needs, it doesn't resolve the issue. We prolong the discussion, merely laying there, staring at one another until our bodies recover.
Not saying a word, Jorah sat up, fixing his pants before collecting me in his arms and carried me over to the bed. Once he laid me down, he got up walking over to the bar to pour us some drinks.
"Oh, don't…I don't drink anymore." I stopped him, fixing the chemise that had gathered around my waist. Although, deciding to take it off and wipe off the semen off me.
He stopped, turning around facing me, "Because of the poisoning?"
I nodded, "I…I take a few sips now and then. But I usually wait until after someone drinks from the same pitcher or a taste tester samples it. Otherwise…I usually drink water."
Jorah nodded as he grabbed the pitcher of water. He poured two glasses as if to ease my tension although knowing one of the guards had a drink, Jorah drank from his glass assuring me the water was not tainted. He waited for a moment before bringing me the drink. I thanked him for I was parched, drinking the water desperately. Once done with the drink, he took the glass, setting it on the nightstand, and faced me. He sat down, taking my hand.
"When I saw you riding on Viserion in your armor…I thought I went back in time and saw Aegon the Conqueror," he jests.
I chuckled slightly, "Ser Barristan customized it. The armor holds some resemblance to Rhaegar's."
"I can see that," he said, staring at the armor that was in the corner. "Without the rubies."
I nodded; I didn't understand why Rhaegar put valuable gems in his armor. The awkwardness was back, knowing the discussion about the Veil will come up. Already Jorah hinted that it was no dream.
"You were truly there…in the Veil?" I asked.
"Aye," Jorah answered.
"So now you know my deepest desires," I whispered.
Jorah cradled my cheek, "It's something not to be ashamed about."
"It was something personal," I whispered. "The fact the Warlocks used it against me to steal my fire. A dream that can never be. A life without war, or claimant. A Simple Life." I looked down. "All I ever wanted was to survive, to have a husband who loves me and children of my own. I thought it would never be when Viserys took me as his wife. But Drogo killed him…and you came along…you made me feel like myself, not a Targaryen. Even before the Warlocks poisoned me, I've been plagued by similar dreams of Joren."
"Alysanne…" he murmured, lifting my chin to face him. "What do you want?"
"I don't know what I want anymore," I confessed. "Ever since being resurrected, a part of me is missing. My childhood memories of King's Landing are gone. The void turning bitter and dark on decisions and threats. My Small Council watching me like a hawk…afraid of the price that was paid. Everyone wants something from me…take the Iron Throne, Rule the Seven Kingdom, do it this way, do it that way…Fire and Blood, Mercy, constantly being challenged by Daenerys. I feel alone, being the only one who knows the truth of a more significant threat."
"You are not alone," Jorah said.
He knows my darkest secrets because the Spirits and I told him in the Veil. He knows I have visions. He knows I can communicate with the dead, as the spirits told him of Visenya. Aware of the greater threat of the Night King and the Army of the Dead.
"You had another vision," Jorah noted, as he held me in his arms.
I snuggle into his form, "The Tarlys refused to bend the knee. Dany advised I should execute them by dragon fire. I saw my father sitting on the Iron Throne watching a man being burned alive by wildfire fire while his son being unable to save him while being strangled to death."
"You saw Lord Rickard Stark and Brandon Stark," Jorah whispered.
"Never has my visions showed the past or while I'm awake," I mumbled. "Seeing the extent of my father's madness."
"And the Tarlys?"
"They are my prisoners. Until Lord Willas decides their fate or I have use for them."
Jorah nodded as he rubbed back, though his fingers traced over the scar.
"What matters now is the Great War," I said. "Jon Snow confirmed it is all real, and we need to gather our forces for the Long Night. Already Dragonglass is being mined as we speak."
"Dragonglass?" He asked.
"Obsidian," I answered. "Tt's what kills White Walker."
Jorah nodded.
Throughout the night, we laid in bed under the candlelight, as I updated him about what has happened. I told him everything. The whole story that weighed me down, like I was drowning in a bottomless sea. All of it came pouring out of me, lifting the weight off my shoulders and bringing me to the surface. I didn't realize how badly I needed to tell someone, anyone, until that moment. He listened. He didn't understand it all, but he tried and listened carefully.
He was not pleased that Lord Varys was in my Small Council. Not that I would blame him since it was the Spider who was basically the Devil's advocate for him to betray my family. I assured Jorah I don't fully trust Varys, informing him of my promise that if Varys does betray me, I will have his head. We continue to talk, well more like I was doing the talking, getting everything off my chest. Especially when Prince Quentyn Martell gave me the secret marriage pact, of Viserys betrothal to Princess Arianne. How if Ser Willem hasn't held this information, my life would have been different. Viserys wouldn't have raped me or forced me to marry him. Assuming why I was unable to conceive or hold any of his children is because the gods forbid it, as his seeds belonged to another. Although I held back the information of what Visenya said, that I can still have children as long it is with someone who doesn't share the same blood.
My fingers traced along his chest, avoiding the scars since he told me they were still tender, although it has been weeks since they fully healed.
"Can I ask you something?" I whispered.
"Anything," he said.
"Is it me or does King Snow…hold some resemblance to my brother?" I asked.
Jorah sighed, "Aye, he does."
"In the Veil, Rhaegar said there were three dragons left in the world. Three Targaryens…Aemon Targaryen is dead…"
"Alysanne…"
"Varys told me Jon Snow was born after the sacking of King's Landing. My worst fear is that Rhaegar did the unthinkable and raped Lyanna Stark or was it foolish love? I thought his face was a coincidence since people not related can hold the resemblance. But today…Rhaegal went up to Jon Snow, and I believe they've bonded. Rhaegal doesn't allow anyone except for a handful of people to be around him. And he simply goes up to King Snow…"
"If he is your brother's son, then he would still be a bastard since Rhaegar was still married to Elia Martell. You should not worry about your claimant."
"It's not my claimant that bothers me," I said, adjusting to face him. "the Usurpers Rebellion started because Rhaegar took Lyanna Stark who was betrothed to Robert Baratheon. Lord Rickard and Brandon Stark went South to retrieve her…and my father executed them. Starting a war. A war that could have been prevented. And now there could be a product that could cost the Seven Kingdoms to be divided."
Jorah cradled my cheek, "What's done is done. All you can do now is move forward and be a better ruler."
"Probably," I sighed, falling back into his arms.
It was getting late, but sleep was avoiding me. All that has happened in the past week, and the joys in having my lover back. Feeling somewhat whole again, having Jorah in my arms. Forgetting just this moment that I was a Queen. Despite the luxury that the bedchamber presented. Being deprived of the intimate touches, my hands wander down his torso. He grabbed my hand, wondering what I was doing. I gave an innocent smile, before sitting up properly to remove his pants and boots as we were both officially naked.
Straddling his thighs, I leaned down, kissing his chest, being careful on the sensitive ones. On occasion nipping at his skin. He groaned, shuddering under my touch until I went lower, grabbing hold of his member and taking him into my mouth. A sound of moaning, followed by a gasp, as his hand went through my hair. Never have I given him fellatio, since any attempts would be rejected as his excuse was, I was a Queen of royal blood. But this time, he allowed it, suckling while my hand massaged what could not fit. Swirling my tongue as Jorah withered under my manipulation. Just as he was about to convulse in his release, he grabbed hold of me, pulling me up to claim my lips before turning us around to be on top.
I whined in protest, which he silenced me with a kiss. Jorah chuckled against my lips, seeing how much I was ready for him. I moaned into his mouther, wanting more. My mouth opened beneath his, and he slid his tongue inside while rubbing himself against my crotch. He grasped my hips, encouraging me to wrap my legs around his waist. I trailed my hands over his chest, and he moaned against my lips while caressing him. He returned the favor cupping my breast. I sighed, trailing my hands over his shoulders. Lost in the moment he lowers his head to flick my nipple with his tongue, and I arched my back, pressing my breast into his mouth. Drawing the peek into his mouth while his hand massaged its twin possessively. Not long after, he released my breast and turned to the other, lavishing it with similar attention.
Moving one hand, my fingers slid through his hair, clenching as he tugged on the nipple with one final nip, he kissed his way down my sternum. My body was already aroused, wanting more than his tongue.
"Jorah, I need you." I panted, withering beneath his lips.
He chuckled, the deep throaty chuckle that I love. As he kissed his way up, reaching my lips as he delved inside me. I gasped. Eyes widening as I met his gaze. The pace starts slow, deep, and steady thrust as if penetrating my soul. Gently pulling him down, kissing him lovingly, his chest pressed against my own. I relished his weight, arching against him gently as I wrapped my arms around him, kissing him deeply.
Jorah trailed his hand up and over my hips and ribs, closing his eyes as he thrust against me. I gasped at the sensation as I felt him harden inside. He groaned as he continues to rock, and I returned the same gratitude. Raising my hips to meet his own. This time we made love, gently, tenderly, savoring each other. The world vanishing around us that it was just us. Over time our bodies could not wait any longer, as he pressed his fingers on my clit, tweaking it while thrusting harder and faster. It wasn't long as we both came together. This time I kept him close instead of pulling out, feeling him release inside me.
We panted looking at one another. I cradle his cheek leaning up and languidly kissed him taking his breath, which he returns. Ser Jorah Mormont was a part of me. We were bound, even without marriage, our souls were linked. Even when I thought he was dead and tried to move on, I couldn't. Let alone, the great lengths he went through to find a cure and return to me. It came at a price in which shows on his skin. Both of us marked by the cruel world.
"I love you," I murmured.
"I love you too," he replied back.
In the end, I was his, and he was mine.
They are finally back together.
Some moments are inspired by Outlander. The dagger is scene being one.
Thanks for reading