Sister's Keeper

Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones

Chapter 71: Eastwatch

Alysanne's POV

I found myself in a cold, confined cage. As if my body fell into an abyss of crystal blue water pulled deep then frozen in place. All around was white and winter blues. Dimming of the sky as day turns into night, and night into day. Over and over, yet I was unable to move. Until hearing footsteps from above, seeing shadowed figures, their voices indistinctive, unable to make out what the people were saying. Talking, laughing, and singing, unaware beneath their feet there was somebody trapped beneath the ice.

Time continues to pass, the changing of the sun and moon, over and over again. The people above not realizing I was trapped in the cold abyss. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and months turned into years, decades, hundreds of years, to millennia more. Ignored and trapped. The hunger building in my stomach, starving, as my mouth became dry as the Red Waste.

But most importantly, anger. A wave of anger that could not be described in words, holding a vendetta, rage, deep primal rage to be set free but unable to move. Forcing my head down until seeing the source of this rage.

There trapped within the ice was a dragon. Its skin and scales were an icy shade of winter, basically made out of living ice, with pale blue eyes, and vast translucent wings. Its claw was reaching out, and arms almost spread as if in midflight. But yet, it was stuck as I was. Icey blue eyes staring at me filled with anger and rage. We were both trapped, and I feel its emotions. Thousands of years, the beast lived trapped within the ice — the creature from my dream in Meereen.

An ice dragon.

Just thinking about it, the eyes that were considered to be dormant cracked focusing on me.

.o0o.

I snapped awake from my dream with a slight gasp. I sat up taking a few deep breaths to calm myself, never expecting to feel such negative emotions. An ice dragon trapped in ice for thousands of years. Seeing the world change and ignored by man. It brought back the legend Ser Willem told of an ice dragon living inside the Wall. A mere legend to explain how Bran the Builder built the Wall to keep the Others out in the Far North.

I haven't had a dream like that in a long time. It has been a year, maybe two, since I dreamt of the Ice Dragon. Probably the night before I… exiled Jorah. Was it just that a dream, or was it a vision? Sometimes I wish I had a better understanding of what these visions are or where do they come from. Was it Valyrian magic, a side effect from the House of the Undying, or was it just that…dreams? It makes me fearful of the previous dream, falling towards my death.

Shaking my head from such a thought, I took another deep breath and looked out the balcony seeing it was still early in the hours. Still early to break my fast or do something else. I sighed and looked down to see Jorah still asleep. The past few days, he has slept in my chambers as I asked him to. I no longer care what others think. The fact that he believes me is more than enough in this madness. Only my heart aches to know that in a few days he will be going on the expedition with King Snow and Ser Davos to Eastwatch and then far north passed the Wall to retrieve two Wights. In order to prove to Cersei and the War Council of a more significant threat that is marching south as we speak. I felt some guilt in delaying to help King Snow, thinking I had time. But time is now against us.

Tyrion and Ser Davos have left for King's Landing. In a few days, they will return, and Jorah will be gone. Deep down, wanting to be selfish to have him here where it was safe. But Jorah was stubborn as a bear. If he dies on this expedition…I would never forgive myself. Even if he would fight, kill, and die for me. His life is not mine. Sadly, I don't have anything that can make him stay. If I try telling him to stay, he will find a way to convince me otherwise.

Foolish thinking, however, I've lost so many people in my life. As Daenerys stated at Drogo's funeral pyre, I was afraid of being alone. Fearful of being abandoned again. My family was dead except for Daenerys. A part of me longed in the Veil the Warlocks made, to be Alys Mormont, being married to Jorah and starting a family of my own. Although, in reality, the chances of being that is undetermined. We've never talked about marriage, not while the Great War is upon us. All I know is that if he were to ask for my hand, he would give me a ring made out of his key from Mormont Keep. A home.

I know Jorah should get as much sleep as possible, but I couldn't resist as I laid back down and curled up against Jorah. Not a second later, his arm wrapped around me. I smiled softly before closing my eyes and tried to fall back to sleep, knowing in a few hours I have training.

"Another nightmare or vision?" Jorah mumbled, sleep heavy in his voice.

"I don't know…it was too allusive. I was trapped in ice and with an ice dragon who held so much rage."

Jorah nodded as he kissed the top of my head.

"Go back to sleep," I murmured.

Jorah didn't respond. I listen to his breathing until falling into a deep sleep.

.o0o.

A few days later

Jorah's POV

It wasn't long when Tyrion returned with Ser Davos with news of his mission's success. The Hand of the Queen managed to communicate with Ser Jaime Lannister to arrange a meeting. Well, to have Ser Jaime to pass on the message to Cersei. With that said, they will be departing the following day. Jorah knew Alysanne didn't like the plan. Thinking it was best to take Viserion and a few men, fly to the far north, grab two Wights and fly back. He will admit, it was a more straightforward method; however, Jon Snow says the Far North is unpredictable. And the unpredictable almost cost Alysanne's life twice.

So that night, Jorah tried to ease her worries. He was distracting her in conversations and intimacy. He doubts he ever expected such desperation in his lover. Then again, Jorah knew she had abandonment issues. Not that he could blame her since only two people from her childhood are alive, and everyone else was dead. By morning, he had woken up early to prepare for the journey North. As he sat on the bed getting dressed except Alysanne took him one more time. He did not mind, as he laid on the bed while his lover road him slowly, trying to savor each moment. Her hair was almost reaching her breast, indigo eyes locked to his blue orbs while his hands felt her thighs, waist, and breast. Jorah locked this in his memory.

Once they reached euphoric bliss, it was officially time to get ready. As he dressed, Alysanne came up behind him and placed something around his neck. He looked down, realizing it was the lone pearl necklace — one of the two things of Queen Rhaella Targaryen.

"Alysanne," Jorah started.

"I want you to have something from me." She said, whispering into his shoulder. "A reason for you to come back."

Jorah turned around, facing her, "I will always come back."

With that said, he leaned down to kiss her. A part of him did not want to go, but he felt like he needs to prove himself for the campaign. Finding the cure was not enough in his opinion of redemption. Feeling like he had failed her, he needs to do this. So, it took much effort to pull away when Missandei arrived to prepare the Queen for the day. With a kiss on her forehead, Jorah left to prepare for the departure.

An hour later he was on the beach with the other Northmen getting supplies onto the boats where the fastest ship was waiting in the bay. Deciding to help the men, he picked up a crate and put it in the boat.

"You may not believe it, but I've missed you Mormont," Tyrion said, who had snuck up beside Jorah. "Nobody glowers quite like you. Not even Grey Worm."

Jorah couldn't help the small smile that lifted his lips.

Tyrion smiled somewhat and pulled out a coin from his pocket, "This is the coin the slaver gave me when I suggested he free us and pay us, remember?"

Jorah was surprised Tyrion still had it. He remembers the coin, giving it back to Yezzan zo Qaggaz, buying his way to being in the Great Games. Never thought Tyrion would keep the coin.

"It was supposed to last us the rest of our lives," Jorah said.

Tyrion nodded as he gave it to Jorah, "Take it with you. But bring it back. Our Queen needs you."

Jorah nodded as both men turned seeing Alysanne and Daenerys coming over with their Dothraki guards and Ser Barristan. Once more, she walked over to them. As if there was a pull that can never be separated. Alysanne tried to be strong, but her eyes were watery.

"We should be better at saying farewell by now," Alysanne murmured.

Jorah nodded with a slight amused smiled, "Your Grace, I . . ."

However, Alysanne took his hands, stopping him. She leaned up and pecked him on the lips, though there was an illusion that masked to be a peck on the cheek. This surprised him since the Queen was a private person. She has never expressed her genuine emotions out in the open as their first kiss was hidden in his tent before the sacking of Yunkai. In fact, he doesn't recall any form of their intimacy by touch that was ever expressed in the open. Always private.

The sounds of footsteps caught his attention as he gazed over seeing Jon Snow and Ser Davos walking over. A part of him was concerned if Jon Snow was possibly Rhaegar's son since the man does hold a strong resemblance in facial structure. Although, he had to remind Alysanne that even if Jon is Rhaegar's son, he would still be a bastard since the Crown Prince was married to Elia Martell. Still on guard to protect his lover and her sister, he will do what he can to acquire more information. So, he picked up her hands and kissed her knuckles.

Although Daenerys was near them as Jon came over to the Princess.

"If I don't return, at least you won't have to deal with the King in the North anymore," Jon said.

Daenerys smiled at him, "I've grown used to him."

Jon nodded, a bit awkwardly and turned to face both Alysanne and Jorah. The two people who have been in the Khaleesi's life. Noting not to continue, he approached Alysanne.

"I wish you good fortune in the wars to come, Your Grace," Jon said.

"And I wish you safe travels, Your Grace" Alysanne replied.

Jon nodded before joining the men on the boat. Jorah gave Alysanne hand one more squeeze before joining the others. As a team, they pushed the boat into the bay. As they reached the short tides, he glances over his shoulder, staring at Alysanne who stood there watching him dearly. An expression he thought he would never see.

.o0o.

Alysanne's POV

Look, please look back, I thought.

As if he heard me, Jorah glanced over his shoulder one last time before heaving the boat into the ocean. It would be weeks, maybe months before I see him again. If I see him again. I pray to five out of the seven for his safe return. Praying to the Warrior to keep him brave. Praying to the Father to make him just. Praying to the Mother's mercy to protect him. Praying to the Smith to keep his blades strong and praying to the Crone to give him wisdom. But then I prayed to the Stranger, begging the God of Death not to take him away from me.

I've fallen in love with a man on the run, I thought. Please, don't take that sinner from me.

When the rowboat was no longer in view, camouflaging within the greywater, Ser Barristan advised we return to the castle. Unable to resist, I only nodded, leading the way back inside. Daenerys walked beside me as she spoke in Valyrian.

"Have faith," Daenerys murmured. "He always comes back."

"I know, but…" I started but stop.

She placed a hand on my shoulder, "I know."

I sighed and thought about what happened on the beach. "Were you flirting with the King in the North?"

Daenerys bit her lip after a brief paused. A part of me wanted to chuckle. However, I had an issue since Jon Snow resembled Rhaegar in facial structure. If he had purple eyes and silver-gold hair, it would be a dead ringer. Except King Snow had dark eyes and hair. If Jon Snow is indeed Rhaegar's son, then I can't allow Dany to be in a relationship with him. I made a personal vow to put an end to the practice of incest. Long ago, the magic Valyria had prevented the complications of incest. But the last three centuries, whatever source of magic that kept the dragon magic pure in our Valyrian veins are gone now. Daenerys and I may be the last of the dragon riders, but we are not the last of Valyrian since a fifth of Essos population are Valyrian descendants.

Also, when did she start holding interest in Jon Snow? She spent weeks trying to get the King in the North to bend the knee and now she is flirting with him. Sadly, I will have to put an end to this. I could be overthinking if King Snow was our nephew, except I can't risk it. Our generation dealt with madness from Viserys and my health complication. When I was pregnant with Viserys' child, I feared what the third generation of incest would do.

"Besides we will need a political alliance if we want the North to return to the Seven Kingdoms. The best way is through marriage," she said.

I sighed, "Dany, marry for love, not an obligation."

"Still," she said.

Sadly, I feel like political marriages do nothing but kill our husbands or potential husbands. Sometimes I wonder if we were cursed. Viserys, Drogo, and Hizdahr are dead. Another reason why I hold back on a possible marriage with Jorah currently. Using the distraction that we wait for the unknown with the Great War, not sure if we will survive or not.

Up on the steps stood Lord Varys. As usual, arms hidden in his sleeves.

"Your Grace," Varys greeted. "Your Highness."

"Varys," I said. "Are your birds singing?"

"They are, your grace," he replied.

"I'll let you be," Daenerys excused herself as she left with her guards. I dismissed Lord Tyrion, yet kept Ser Barristan for protection. Let alone, intending for another round of training.

"What whispers have you heard?" I asked.

"My birds speak of two events happening in Westeros, one in the south and the other in the north." He answered.

"Continue," I ordered.

"In King's Landing, Cersei has been talking to Tycho Nestoris, trying to pay off the Iron debt Robert Baratheon and her illborn son made. Unfortunately, the Tyrells valuables Ser Jaime accumulated is not enough. Let alone her sending an envoy to Braavos to hire the golden company."

"Your Grace, we should make plans for the golden company," Ser Barristan advised.

"I doubt the Golden Company will serve me since I am a Targaryen and their organization was built to defeating the Targaryens," I said. "Let alone Viserys's failed attempts."

"If only Ser Jorah were here to negotiate with the Golden Company, since he was once a Sellsword," Varys murmured.

I gave him a warning look as did Ser Barristan.

"Anything else in King's Landing?" I asked.

"Yes, it seems Cersei is back to coupling with her brother again," Varys answered.

I tensed as did Ser Barristan. My stomach twisted in disgust. Seriously, how can someone be attracted to their own siblings so willingly? Seven hells, even my parents, were forced to be together. Yet, my grandparents were siblings and fell in love with each other despite King Aegon V's wishes. The damn Valyrian tradition. Let alone, Viserys forcing me to marry him. But to hear someone who was not Valyrian could do such a thing and continue such a practice.

"I will put an end to that practice soon enough," I promised.

Ser Barristan nodded in agreement.

"Anything else?" I asked.

"An old acquaintance of mine is playing a dangerous game with the Starks," he reported.

"And what is that?" I asked.

"Lord Baelish is trying to separate the sisters with information used many years ago," he answered.

I nodded, "Is he that good?"

"He's good on blackmail and the art of manipulations," Varys said. "Playing the game with controlled chaos. Well, his control."

"I recall him putting a knife to Ned Stark neck," Ser Barristan added. "Not someone to put on your council."

"Let alone the rumors of that Lord Baelish killed his wife, the late Lady Lysa and conspired in the death of Lord Jon Arryn." Varys murmured.

"And did he?" I asked.

"Indeed, he has," Varys confirmed.

Ser Barristan scowled.

I nodded, taking the information in, "A Mockingbird messing with wolves. I doubt he will last."

With nothing else to say, Ser Barristan and I headed to the training yard.

.o0o.

Jorah's POV

Two Weeks Later

Jorah glanced at the Wall; it has been a long two-week sail to Eastwatch. As he stared at the Wall, dressed in many layers of leathers and fur over his armor. His thoughts linger on his Father. Jeor Mormont spent the majority of his life at the Wall to escape his grief for his wife. Jorah knew how much his Mother's death affected the Clan dearly.

Another thought lingers wondering what would have happened if he had taken the black. Instead of fleeing to Essos, head North and renounce of claims and titles. Would his Father be disappointed in him, and in time, forgive him? His life as a brother of the Nights Watch. Then he thought about the things he would have missed if he took the black. He would not have met the Targaryen Sisters, or the Dothraki. He wouldn't have recognized his flaws and wrongs if it weren't for his exile.

He sighed, breathing the Northern air, breathing in the sharp winter winds. He was back in the Kingdom he grew up in. Jon leads the way as he, Ser Davos, and a young man named Gendry headed towards their destination. There was something about Gendry that looked familiar, but he can't put his finger on it. It seems the generation born after Robert's Rebellion hold so many resemblances the men he fought alongside with. Then again, most men died long ago. They went inside the Eastwatch castle, more of a small fortress where wildlings have inhabited the grounds.

There stood one man, taller than the other wildlings. The wildling being broad chest, massive shoulders, and a beard and hair that are red as fire. The wildling gave Jon a jolly hug, almost knocking the man down. Jon gave a little smile before explaining the situation. Not even four sentences, the wildling stopped Jon.

"Freezing my balls off, let's go inside for a drink." The wildling said.

Jorah snorted, as they went inside. Ser Davos noticed the lack of introductions told him and Gendry the man was Tormund. One of the Free folks who been helping Jon for the last few years. They went to the shieldhall, sitting at a table as drinks were poured around. Jon explained to Tormund the situation.

"Isn't it your job to talk him out of stupid fucking ideas like this?" Tormund asked Ser Davos.

"I've been failing at that job of late," Ser Davos answered.

"How many queens are there now?" Tormund asked.

"Two," Jon answered.

Tormund looked at Jon, "And you need to convince the one with the dragons or the one who fucks her brother?"

Gendry chuckled from that.

Jon took a deep breath, "Both."

"How many men did you bring?" Tormund asked.

Jon glanced at Ser Jorah. With Alysanne's army marching across Westeros and Daenerys securing her numbers, it was only him. Jon knew that, as well.

"Not enough," Jon answered.

"The big woman?" Tormund asked.

Jon snorted, taking a sip of ale.

"We were hoping some of your men could help," Jorah said.

"Hmm," Tormund replied.

"I'll be staying behind," Ser Davos inquired. "I'm a liability out there, as you well know."

Tormund nodded, "You are."

Ser Davos merely nodded not taking that as an insult.

Tormund faced Jon, "You really want to go out there? Again?"

Jon nodded.

Tormund stared at the group. "You're not the only ones."

All three men were confused. Finishing their drinks, Tormund leads them to the prison cells.

"My scouts found them a mile south of the Wall. Said they were on their way here."

There were several men in the cell. One laid on a bench wrapped in a cloak — others in the corner. Neither of them adapting to the winter climate.

"You're the Hound," Jon noted seeing the man on the bench whose face was covered in scars from being burned. "I saw you once at Winterfell."

The Hound sat up.

"They want to go beyond the Wall, too." Tormund murmured.

"We don't want to go beyond the Wall; we have to." Another man said in a corner with his friend. He had an eyepatch over his right eye. Next to him was a man with ginger hair. "Our Lord told us that the Great War is coming—"

"Don't trust him," Gendry interrupted, coming closer. "Don't trust any of them." He leaned against the rail. "They're the Brotherhood. And the last thing their Lord told them to do was sell me to a red witch to be murdered.

Jorah stepped closer for he knew these men. The last he saw these two men was during the Greyjoy rebellion. One stood out the most to him.

"Thoros?" Jorah called out. The man heard his name and lifted his head, "I hardly recognize you."

"Ser Jorah Mormont," Thoros hoarsely greeted. "They won't give me anything to drink down here. I haven't been feeling like myself."

Tormund glared at Jorah, "You're a fucking Mormont?"

Jorah faced him.

"Like the last Lord Commander?" The Free Folk asked.

"He was my father," Jorah confirmed.

"He hunted us like animals," Tormund growled.

"You returned the favor, as I recalled," Jorah countered.

Tormund growled.

"Here we all are . . . at the edge of the world at the same moment, heading in the same direction for the same reason." Lord Beric said.

"Our reasons aren't your reasons," Ser Davos countered.

"It doesn't matter what we think our reasons are." Ser Beric said as he stood up walking over. "There's a greater purpose at work. And we serve it together, whether we know it or not. We may take the steps, but the Lord of Light—"

"For fuck's sake, will you shut your hole?" The Hound shouted. "Are we coming with you or not?"

"Don't you want to know what we're doing?" Jorah asked.

"Is it worse than sitting in a freezing cell, waiting to die?" Thoros muttered.

"He's right," Jon said. "We're all on the same side."

Gendry snapped his head, "How can we be?"

Jon sighed, "We're all breathing."

With nothing else to say, Tormund handed Jon the keys. Jorah was impressed, using that lone excuse to free these men. He knew Beric and Thoros, but the Hound, Sandor Clegane is rumored to be a vicious warrior. The brother of Ser Gregor Clegane, The Mountain who murder Elia Martell and her children. Jorah wondered how Alysanne would take it when she learned he was working with the brother who slaughtered a third of the Targaryens. It was probably best not to mention this to her.

It would be the next day at the early hours when thirteen men went on the expedition. Before the departure, Jorah sent a letter to Alysanne, giving her a report. As he sat by the desk fiddling the pearl pendant that rested on his chest. Deep down, he knew it was a high risk. Even considered requesting she come with Viserion. However, he will not risk her life. Not again.

This was his way of redeeming himself.

Even though he was forgiven, it was not enough.

Dressed in furs he marched with the crew through the lone tunnel in the Wall and stared at the Far North.

Into enemy territory.

Hey guys, sorry for the long wait. I did a volunteer camp, and it was crazy, followed by writers blocks.

Thank you for your patience.

Thanks for reading and please leave a review!