Sister's Keeper
Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52
Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones
Chapter 72: Beyond the Wall
Jorah's POV
They've been traveling for a few days now, reaching the mountain terrains. At first, there were tensions between the thirteen men. Gendry with the Brotherhood without Banners and the Wildlings with Jorah. Tormund most likely growling at him now and then. If it wasn't for Jon telling the men to get along, what was the point of this expedition? Soon, words were starting to be exchanged. Jorah being somewhat of an introvert at the moment, only knowing two of the men in the group kept to himself. He listens, though, in case the conversation comes back to him.
Up ahead was Gendry, Tormund, and Jon Snow.
"You all right?" Jon asked Gendry
The young man nodded.
"Ever been north before?" Tormund asked.
"Never seen snow before," Gendry answered.
"Beautiful, eh?" Tormund asked. "I can breathe again. Down south the air smells like pig shit."
"You've never been down south," Jon reminded.
"I've been to Winterfell," Tormund said.
"That's the North," Jon corrected.
Tormund blew a raspberry.
"How did you live up here?" Gendry asked, trying to catch his breath. "How do you keep your balls from freezing off?"
"You got to keep moving. That's the secret," Tormund answered. "Walking's good, fighting's better, and fucking's best."
Jorah held back a snort when hearing that.
"There's not a living woman within a hundred miles of here," Jon reminded playfully.
Tormund looked at the two young men, "We have to make do with what we've got."
Gendry stopped for a moment grasping what the Free Folk said, as Jon and Tormund continued onward. The young blacksmith turned to Jorah. Bear Island in the winter, was basically just like the climate here. Just because the small island is in the Sunset Sea and south from the Frozen Shore, it was still a bitter winter. Summer Snow was a blessing, but during the actual Winter years, it was basically just like this. And the statement of keeping warm Tormund said is still passed on, Jorah believed that is how a lot of babies are conceived, in the late winter. But assuming Tormund was joking about buggery, patted Gendry's shoulder and gestured him onward.
"Just keep moving," Jorah told Gendry.
They soon caught up with Jon and Tormund.
"So, you met this Dragon Queen, huh?" Tormund asked. "And?"
"She'll fight beside us," Jon assured. "But her sister will only fight beside us if I bend the knee."
"You spent too much time with the Free Folk. Now you don't like kneeling," Tormund said. "Mance Rayder was a braver man. A proud man. The-King-beyond-the-Wall never bent the knee. How many of his people died for his pride?"
Jorah was curious about what happened a few years ago. But listening to the tone of Tormund's voice he decided not to ask questions. Maybe discuss it with Jon in private the next time they made camp. Time continued onward. Jorah was listening to Gendry talking to Sandor, Beric, and Thoros explaining what happened to him when the brotherhood sold him to the Red Woman. He had to agree with Sandor; the young man was whining or whinging as the Hound puts it. Although, Jorah would agree about not wanting to have leeches on him while having sex. Then again, he recently had a dagger pressed against his throat.
Time continued onward, as the grey skies started to grow darker. Jon caught up with Jorah as they walked ahead. They were silent for a moment until Jon finally spoke.
"The first time I went north of the Wall was with your father," Jon said.
"He was a good man. He deserved a better son," Jorah agreed, then glance at Jon. "Were you with him at the end?"
"I was a prisoner of the wildings," Jon confessed sadly. "But we avenged him. I want you to know that. Every mutineer found justice."
Jorah nodded, "Can't think of a worse way for him to go. The Night's Watch was his life. He would have died to protect every one of those men. And they butchered him."
"I hate that he died that way," Jon agreed. "My father was the most honorable man I ever met. He was good all the way through. And he died on the executioner's block."
"Your father wanted to execute me, you know," Jorah told him.
"I heard," Jon replied.
"He was in the right, of course. Didn't make me hate him any less."
"I'm glad he didn't catch you."
"Me, too."
It seems like they were getting along. Jorah listens to every detail, wondering if Jon Snow knew of his parentage. Based on the young king's statements, he still believes he is Ned Stark's bastard. Maybe he is. But it does not explain the face of Rhaegar since the Starks haven't married any Targaryen or Valyrian. The farthest south, a Northman married from the mainland was from the Vale of Arryn and the Riverlands. Otherwise, the majority of the Northmen have married other descendants of the First Men. The men grew tired and weary, deciding it was best to stop to make camp for the night.
Jon pulled Jorah to the side while the men made camp. Once at a distance to have privacy, he spoke while removing his belt, "Your father gave me this sword. Changed the pommel from a bear to a wolf . . . but it's still Longclaw,"
As Jon handed over the Valyrian steel to Jorah. The older knight took hold of the blade, agreeing the pommel has changed, but it was still ivory carved to a predatory animal of the North, from bear to wolf with red bead eyes. He lifted the blade just a bit, examining the blade with three fullers incised along with the dark ripple steel. The last time Jorah held Longclaw was the night he relinquished his titles and lands for being charged for slavery. A long dreadful debate of taking the blade with him or leave it behind for a worthy wielder. It appears he made the right decision.
"Lord Commander Mormont thought you'd never come back to Westeros." Jon continued. "But you are back, and it's been in your family for centuries. It's not right for me to have it.
Jorah stared at Longclaw deep in thought. If he had returned to Westeros once he'd received his pardon, he would have simply accepted the blade. But Jorah knew he was not worthy of the sword. Not after what he has done. Even during his redemption starting at Vas Dothrak with the Targaryen Sisters, the weight of his sins wasn't enough. Let alone, when Longclaw was left at Mormont Keep, Maege gave it back to Jeor, knowing his aunt was not a sword maiden, nor was her only daughter. Jeor was a stubborn bear; he wouldn't give up the sword so easily.
"He gave it to you," Jorah said, staring into Jon's dark eyes.
"I'm not his son," Jon disagreed.
Jorah examined the blade one last time, "I brought shame onto my house. I broke my father's heart." He then secured it back in the scabbard and returned it to Jon. "I forfeited the right to claim this sword. It's yours. May it serve you well. . . and your children after you."
Jon accepted the sword, surprised.
Before he could say anything, Jorah left to help the men make camp.
.o0o.
Jon's POV
The next day they continue their search. They were trying to reach the area near Hardhome. Hopefully, some of the Army of the Dead would be roaming about. Tormund believes so. Letting the dead rot, a bit to terrify the masses. Jon sighed, trying not to think about that. He felt some guilt not being able to rescue all the Free Folk who were waiting at Hardhome. Karsi the spearwife being one. She stayed during the battle to help the wounded, yet she died because she couldn't will herself to kill wights who took the form of children. Out of the Karsi family, her daughters survived, which Tormund assured they were in good hands.
Lord Beric climbed up to him over the hill. The elder man staring at Jon's face as if trying to find something. He had noticed Ser Jorah and Queen Alysanne having that inspecting look. As if trying to find a face of the past and not getting the answer.
"You don't look much like him," Lord Beric noted.
"Who's that?" Jon asked.
"Your father," Beric answered.
Jon sighed, assuming he took more after his mother.
"I suppose you favor your mother," Beric assumed.
"You knew him?" Jon asked.
"' Course I did," Beric answered. "When he was Hand, he sent me off hunting for the Mountain. Your wildling friend told me the Red Woman brought you back. Thoros has brought me back six times. We both serve the same lord."
Jon shook his head. He did not worship the Lord of Light. Growing up, he was raised by the Old Gods. Made his vows in front of a Weirwood tree. Although, lately, he hasn't been genuinely religious. Not since making his vows and seeing the dark side of humanity. Also, it surprised him he wasn't the only one brought back to life. Alysanne and now Lord Beric. Who else has this Lord of Light brought back? Then again, he doesn't trust this deity, since what kind of god demands to burn a child alive? If this was Beric's way trying to recruit him, then he will sadly be a disappointment.
"I serve the North," Jon reminded.
"The North didn't raise you from the dead," Beric countered.
"The Lord of Light never spoke to me," Jon said. "I don't know anything about him. I don't know what he wants from me."
"He wants you alive," Beric said.
"Why?" Jon asked.
Beric gave a tired smile in understanding, "I don't know."
Jon gave somewhat of a smile, "That's all anyone can tell me— 'I don't know.' So, what's the point in serving a god if none of us knows what he wants?"
"I think about that all the time," Beric replied, amused. "I don't think it's our purpose to understand. Except for one thing – we're soldiers. We have to know what we're fighting for. I'm not fighting some man or woman I barely know can sit on a throne made of swords."
The two of them stop.
"So, what are you fighting for?" Jon asked.
"Life," Beric answered, then looked at him thoughtfully. "Death is the enemy. The first enemy and the last."
Jon was confused by that statement, "But we all die."
Beric's lips twitched up, "The enemy always wins. And we still need to fight him. That's all I know. You and I won't find much joy while we're here, but we can keep others alive. We defend those who can't defend themselves."
Jon paused, thinking about a verse in his vows, "I am the shield that guards the realms of men."
"Maybe we don't need to understand any more than that," Beric smiled proudly. "Maybe that's enough."
"Aye," Jon nodded. "Maybe that's enough."
They continue walking, catching up with the group until escaping another terrain to a small valley where there was a mountain on the other side. Sandor who stood at the front next to Thoros squinted his eyes looking up again.
"That's what I saw in the fire," Sandor pointed out. "A mountain like an arrowhead."
"Are you sure?" Thoros asked.
Sandor looked at the Red Priest, "We're getting close."
.o0o.
Alysanne's POV
"Alright, let's try this again," I told Viserion.
I was out on the field with Viserion doing more dragon training. Preparations for battles and training Viserion keep me occupied in the day while at night I go through the library trying to discover how to resurrect the dragons. The Targaryens must have written it down in how to revive the dragons without requiring blood magic. Unless Aegon the Third was genuinely traumatized by the dragons that he wiped away all of their existence. The Dance of Dragons left only three to survive, and the fourth, the Last Dragon was so sickly it died so young. Some would say, Aegon III let the Last Dragon die. But could you blame him, when his uncle Aegon II stole his mother Rhaenyra birthright and killed her by being burned alive and fed to Sunfyre.
Anyway, I got on Viserion's back as he took off to the sky and flew low near the water, almost touching it. Once Viserion found balance along with the winds, I carefully remove the harness and slowly stood upon his shoulders. I stumbled yet managed to catch myself and secure my footing like the Dothraki. After a moment, I officially stood and ever so slowly began to walk along Viserion spine. Sometimes using his spikes as added support. Cautiously, I walked downward until reaching the base of the tail. Taking a deep breath, I began walking on it about five feet in, having my arms spread out for balance.
I chuckle.
There you go, Visenya said. Together you are one.
"That we a- "Before I could vanish, Viserion did a sharp turn causing me to fall off.
I fell into the water, luckily near the beach and fortunately, I wasn't wearing any armor. Unfortunately, with winter here, the water was cold, giving a rude awakening. Along with Visenya laughing in my head. It was a good thing I knew how to swim, mainly taught by Hosts who live on the island. I glared up at the ocean feeling through the dragon spell; the golden beast was laughing.
Nothing to do in the water, I swam back to shore trying to think of the perfect revenge. No doubt Viserion knocked me down on purpose. By the time I got to shore, Daenerys was there with an amused look on her face.
"Don't say anything," I grumbled.
"Say what?" She asked innocently. "That Viserion pulled a prank on you."
I scowled at her in which she chuckled. Unable to resist the temptation, I walked over and hugged her. She shrieked, trying to pull away from my grasp, yet I held tight. Allowing my drenched clothes to soak into her own. Dany shrieked from the cold water and managed to escape my grasp.
"Enough, let's get you dressed and freshen up." She said, though still smiling.
I sighed in defeat, as we went back to the castle. There Missandei drew a bath, allowing me to wash my body and hair before changing into fresh clothes. Afterward, I went into the Chamber of the Painted Table, seeing the battle plans ready for King's Landing. Only six more months before the invasion. I pray to the Seven that Jorah and Jon can find two wights and make it back in time. A cough caught my attention, as I turn around to see Lord Tyrion sitting by the fireplace, as usual, drinking wine.
"Do you know what I like about you?" I murmured, as I walked over and leaned near the fire feeling its warmth.
"I honestly don't," Tyrion replied.
"You're not a hero," I said.
"Oh. Well, I've been heroic on occasions." He said. "I once charged through the Mud Gate of King's Landing and –"
"I don't want you to be a hero," I interrupted then took a seat across from him. "Heroes do stupid things, and they die. "Rhaegar, Drogo, Jorah, Daarrio, and Jon Snow. They all try to outdo each other. Who can do the stupidest, bravest thing?"
"It's interesting, these heroes you name," Tyrion murmured. "Rhaegar, Drogo, Jorah, Daario, even this Jon Snow. . . They all fell in love with you and your sister."
"I doubt Jon Snow hold's interest," I scoffed.
"Oh, my mistake. I suppose he stares at Daenerys longingly because he's hopeful for a successful military alliance," he said.
I scoffed, "As if marriage by alliance does any good. They end up dead."
Drogo and Hizdahr were the prime examples of that.
Changing the subject, "I know you're brave. Bravery comes in different shapes and sizes. I wouldn't have chosen a coward as my Hand."
Tyrion gave a small smile.
"So, if all goes well, I'll finally get to meet your sister. From everything you've told me about her, she'd rather murders me than speak with me."
Tyrion set his wineglass on the table, "Oh, first she'd torture you in some horrible way then she'd murder you. Nobody trusts my sister less than I do, believe me... But if we go to the capital, we'll go with two armies; we'll go with three dragons. Anyone touches you, King's Landing burns down to the foundation stones."
"And right now, she's thinking of how to set a trap," I concluded.
"Of course, she is. And she's wondering what trap you're laying for her."
"Are we? Laying any traps?"
Tyrion stared at me as he scratched his hand, contemplating. He sighed. "If we want to create a new and better world, I'm not sure deceit and mass murder is the best way to start."
"Which war was won without deceit and mass murder?" I logically asked, with a playful smirk.
"Yes, you'll need to be ruthless if you're going to win the throne," Tyrion agreed. "You need to inspire a degree of fear. But fear is all Cersei has. It's all my father and Joffrey had. It makes their power brittle because those beneath them longs to see them dead."
"You are right," I agreed. "My ancestors, Aegon Targaryen, got quite a long way on fear. And his son Maegor did the same."
"They did," Tyrion agreed. "But what is it that you want? Are you trying to break the wheel? Aegon built the wheel. If that's the kind of Queen you want to be, how are you different from all the other tyrants that came before you?"
"I told you before; the wheel cannot be broken. Most people think of a wheel made of wood or iron, or steel. If it breaks, it can be replaced. If it is destroyed, a new one is made. Aegon made the wheel out of Valyrian steel. It can't be broken. And based on the accounts of the noble lords, they are not ready for change."
Westeros is not ready for democracy. I will make changes to the monarchy, so the people are not silenced by the Noble Houses. But those Noble Houses are the true enemy when it comes to change. I agree there are some traditions that should remain, for they are part of our culture. However, other traditions need to die out.
"What agreement did your brother make for the armistice if Ser Jorah and King Snow returned?" I asked while standing up, walking over to the balcony.
"My brother promised me he'd keep a grip on the Lannister forces." He answered.
"I have a hard time believing that, since the past fifty years, the Lannisters haven't kept their promises unless it's paying a debt. How does the saying go, 'A Lannister always pays his debts'? Out of the three leading lions, you're the only one I trust."
"And I promised him I'd keep you from doing anything impulsive." He replied.
"You're referring to my sister," I warned.
Tyrion stood up as he walked over to the table, still keeping a distance. "This will be a difficult negotiation. We're sitting down with people who want to see us both headless. My sister is likely to say something provocative."
"And?" She asked.
"You know how to face insults and keep a gambling face. And Daenerys has been known to lose her temper from time to time, as all great leaders do." He answered. "After all, she is the Queen of the Dothraki."
"And I haven't lost my temper?" I asked.
"From the time I've met you until now, you don't retaliate when things don't go your way in a snap. Yes, there were moments you yelled, but after a deep breath and listening to your advisors, you've proven yourself. For instance, you did not burn the Tarlys."
"The Tarlys are a respected house and would be of good use for the Great War to come. Holding them hostage, allows me control of the southern part of the Reach." I said. "Unless Lord Willas decides a suitable fate for their treason."
"It's a good thing I have an advisor who knows how the enemy thinks," I murmured and turned to the window watching the horizon. "Westeros is different from what little perspective I saw so many years ago. Nor is the Dothraki, Warlocks, or Slavers. This war is not about human rights or claimant. It's about survival."
"You need to take your enemy's side if you're going to see things the way they do," Tyrion said, walking over. "And you need to see things the way they do, if you're going to anticipate their actions, respond effectively, and beat them. I want you to do very much. Because I believe in you and the world, you want to build. But the world you want to build doesn't get built all at once. Probably not in a single lifetime. How do we ensure that your vision endures?"
"My vision is a world of death," I whispered. "One I want to stop."
"And we will stop it," Tyrion assured. "But if we win, what comes afterward?"
I realized Tyrion was thinking of the long term, "You want to know who sits on the Iron Throne if I were to die again?"
"You are still unmarried and childless at the moment. You say Daenerys can't have children, but there are other ways of choosing a successor. The Night's Watch has one method. The Ironborn, for all their many flaws, have another."
I took a deep breath, "The next line of succession shall go to one with king's blood."
"Your Grace, a lot of Maekar's children… Daella and Rhae's bloodline died out during previous wars or married across the sea and have been lost to Westeros. The last five generations have been more female birth than male. It will be a political war of many women."
"Not unless I choose, and so far, only one house has earned their position for the succession. One that sees the change as I have wished for."
"You don't mean…"
I turned to face Tyrion, "If I were to die without an heir, and Daenerys dies from age, then the succession shall go House Martell. They are my cousins, though distant, they have dragon's blood."
"You have thought of this for some time," Tyrion noted amazed.
"I have," I murmured. "All I ever wanted was to go home. To get justice for all the wrongs and redeem the House Targaryens name. Lately, the desire to be Queen …is not the same as it used to be."
Tyrion stood there watching me with such amazement.
"I'm only human," I whispered. "Fire cannot harm me, but I can still bleed."
"Death made you wiser."
I shook my head.
Death is only the beginning.
Although, there might be one more dragon out there. As he travels beyond the wall in the far North as we speak. One with more dragon's blood but no name.
.o0o.
Later that night, Visenya allowed me to visit her in her dream. I was in the library, going over the original documents of old Valyria. I was on a ladder that was leaning on the wall along the tall shelves that had the scrolls. Scrolls that are currently absent in reality, either destroyed during the rebellion or withered away in the last three hundred years. I have three dragon eggs that have been petrified. I doubt there are any witches left to burn away. How Daenerys brought the dragons back…the world will never know.
"Can you tell me how to resurrect the dragon eggs?" I asked.
"Fire and blood," Visenya said from the bottom of the ladder arms crossed.
"I'm serious," I groaned.
"Well, while I was still alive, there were fresh dragon eggs. And the eggs decide its master," she said.
I sighed climbing down from the ladder.
She had an amused look at seeing how to determined I was. All I want is to bring back what has been lost. Sometimes I wonder if there had been no Doom in Valyria and by some miracle, my ancestors married the same people to have me. What would have my life been like in Valyria? Of course, Viserys and I would have been married, unless Rhaegar had arranged my marriage to a cousin or another Valyrian. But the dragons would still be alive…
"I also wonder what Valyria was like as well," Visenya said.
We walked along the castle walls contemplating everything that has happened. Talking to Visenya on plans and getting her perspective about things. Visenya was candor and frank; she was not like my other advisors who try to sugar coat things. I need a straightforward answer. It wasn't long when we reached the gardens. I stopped at the fountain, taking a seat and place my hand in the water.
Suddenly out of nowhere, a vision flashes before my eyes.
It was the far North again. All around were mountains covered in snow. In the center was a lake, a frozen lake with a small island in the center. On it was six men. I recognize Jorah and King Snow amongst the group tired and frail. One man was dead, as his body was burned. However, they were not alone. Surrounding the lake was a horde of wights. All were observing and watching the remaining humans. A man massively tall with a scar on his face picked up a rock striking a wight in the head, breaking its jaw.
"Dumb cunts," the man muttered.
He took another rock and threw it. The rock bounces off the ice before sliding down to the wight with the broken jaw's feet. The ice was no longer thin. It was now solid. The wight looked down with its blue eyes, then glance back at the men. The man who threw the rock face dropped in the mistake he had made.
"Oh, fuck," he whispered.
The wight from earlier started walking along the ice. Not long after more join in approaching the living at a slow, steady pace. All the living drew their weapons, Jorah holding both sword and obsidian dagger. Jon took out his Valyrian sword, while another man with an eyepatch lit his blade ablaze. The others had axes and spears at the ready.
The scarred man charged first, and the battle began. They had the upper hand attacking the wights that came closer. Although, the Night King who stood on the ledge with the rest of the white walkers had enough, sending the entire horde upon them. The massive growing dense, the six men were trying to fight them off. Except it was too much, their space was running out, no room to fight. They were surrounded, pressed together until the wights were ripping them from limb to limb or stabbing them repeatedly. All of them dying.
Then the wights pulled back revealing the five bodies that were forced in a pile. Their furs covered in in blood and puncture marks. The Night King came down from the ledge, approaching the fallen warriors. He stood over Jon Snow, staring down at an old enemy. He knelt, taking the Valyrian sword and examined it. Placing a hand on the pommel freezing the carved wolf until it shatters into a million pieces and forms a crystal orb at the end. Afterward, he reached out and snapped his fingers. All five decease men eyes open, revealing icy blue orbs. Jorah's eyes no longer the shade of the ocean. His face nearly scratched off and bloody.
And they all stood to be one of the Army of the Dead.
I gasped snapping from the vision.
Visenya rests her hand on my shoulder, bracing me. As she gestured to the water, revealing what I saw in the fountain.
"You must wake and go to them," Visenya said. "If you don't, then all is lost."
Before I could respond, she tapped my forehead, waking me from my slumber. I shot up awake, barely grasping breath as I jumped out of bed. It was still early hours, but I did not care as I called out to Missandei whose room was on the same floor as I. While waiting for her, I went through the wardrobe pulling out my winter attire in need for the journey North.
Along with telling the guards who were posted at the door to tell the Dragon keepers to put Viserion's saddle on. That I'll be flying at once, the Unsullied nodded as he rushed out of the room to do as I command. Just as he left Missandei entered the room.
"You call, Your Grace," Missandei greeted.
"I need your help; I must go North at once," I told her.
"Is that wise?" She asked.
"It is, it's a life and death situation," I answered.
Missandei nodded not asking any more questions as she helped me change into the proper winter attire, from the underclothes to the black fur coat lined with red. Underneath the furs, I made sure to put on the breastplate and gambeson. During the time, Missandei braided my hair and put it in a style that won't tangle in the winds.
"What's going on?" Daenerys asked as she entered the room.
I looked at her through the reflection of the mirror, "I had a vision of Jorah and King Snow dying in the North. I must go before it happens."
Daenerys's eyes widen in shock. "Let me go with you."
"No, you stay and prepare for the battle," I said.
"Alys, Jorah is my family too," she said.
"Dany," I pleaded.
"We're stronger together," she reminded.
Knowing she has a point, I conceded, "Very well, get dressed. We leave within the hour."
Daenerys nodded as she left. Missandei finished doing my hair and left to help Daenerys prepare. Still rushing with adrenaline, I grabbed my sword and satchel, before going to the kitchen having the kitchen staff provide the provisions. The cooks gave bread and dry meats along with four waterskins filled with water and wine. I thanked the cook and headed out.
As I reach the courtyard, Daenerys was there along with Ser Barristan and Lord Tyrion. We ignored them as we made our way to the field where the dragons resided.
"What's going on?" Ser Barristan asked.
"I had a vision; the expedition will fail," I answered. "We're heading north before it is too late."
"You can't," Tyrion called out, trying to catch up. "The most important person in the world can't fly off to the most dangerous place in the world."
"Who else can?" Daenerys asked.
"No one," Tyrion answered. "They knew the risks when they left. You can't win the throne if you're dead. You can't go home if you're dead."
Daenerys climbed onto Drogon.
Meanwhile, I stopped in front of Viserion facing them, "So, what would you have me do?"
"Nothing," Tyrion answered then pleaded, keeping to his distance. "Sometimes, nothing is the hardest thing to do. If you die, we're all lost. Everyone, everything."
"You told me to do nothing before, and I listened to you. I'm not doing nothing again," she said. "You need to understand the Great War that is to come."
"Alysanne," Ser Barristan spoke up.
"Ser Barristan, you and Missandei have control over Dragonstone. If Daenerys and I are unable to return within the month, begin the invasion. Cersei Lannister cannot rule the Seven Kingdoms."
With nothing else to say, I climbed on top of Viserion and secured the harness to the saddle. I glance at Daenerys, who was ready as well. Nodding back to her, the dragons went towards the edge of the cliff and took off to the sky. North is where we are going.
I will not lose the man I love and my possible nephew.
Not again.
What do you guy's think? What will happen next?
Also, I have two new GOT stories that may be of interest:
The Other Lannister Sister: Many years after the death of his wife Lady Joanna, Tywin Lannister remarried to Lady Anne of House Serrett who provided him two more children. Lynette Lannister shall tell you her side of the story during Game of Thrones. As the Other Lannister Sister. P.S. Tybalt will pop up now and then too.
Warg Maiden: She was intended to be the next Three-Eye Raven, a warg from the Dire Tribe. But she was more wolf than a raven. A hunter rather than an observer. Rejected from her true fate, Imogen must take the knowledge she has gained from the Children to stop an imminent threat, the White Walkers. However, a Crow is in the way.
Please note, I have Sister's Keeper and coming to a near end to A Doe in a Lion's Den. Once I have ADIALD done will the new stories get more chapters. I hope you enjoy the series. Thank you all for your support.
Thanks for reading and please leave a review!