Sister's Keeper
Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52
Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones
Survey question at the bottom.
Languages:
Common Tongue
Valyrian
Dothraki
Chapter 80: Battlefield
Alysanne's POV
I've seen many battle plans since my conquest in Slaver's Bay. I've seen the Unsullied battle strategies of sieges, the Second Sons methods, and the Westerosi battle strategies from Ser Barristan and Jorah. Even witnessing the Dothraki in battle and pillaging. But never have I seen such a poor battle strategy presented itself to me than right now. In the War Council chamber, I stare at the table where Jon Snow and Ser Davos arranged for the attack. Ser Barristan held the same disbelief as me.
What in Seven Hells is this? Visenya thought as well.
The King in the North, recommended the armies to dig a single trench around the Great Keep, filled with spikes. In front of the trench will be the troops, the Unsullied taking center along with managing the catapults and trebuchets. Meanwhile, the first flank will be the Dothraki, who will charge in straight into the Army of the Dead. The worse thing was, King Snow wanted to wait until the Night King appears on his dragon before releasing our dragons. Therefore, leaving the men to defend themselves.
"What do you think?" King Snow asked.
Grey Worm, Ser Barristan, Ser Jorah, and I stared at him like a complete idiot.
"How many battles have you fought?" I asked.
"Two," King Snow answered.
"Where at?"
"One in Castle Black the other was the Battle of the Bastards," he answered.
"Ser Davos, did the Battle of the Bastards go as planned?" Ser Barristan asked.
"Uh, no, not quite," the Onion Knight confessed. "We sort of went of head-on."
There was more to the story from what I heard from Varys; it was the Knights of the Vale who ended the battle. I took a deep breath, the irritating feeling I haven't felt since Viserys was still alive. The excuse of King Snow was a young man, blooded in battle isn't good enough. He may know the enemy, but it is clear he doesn't understand battles to this degree. We are not going against a House or a City, we are up against an army that can't be killed so easily.
"The strategies are a good draft, but it not suitable for battle," Ser Barristan started, moving the miniature totems in the proper location. "The artillery needs to be behind the trenches, keeping the catapults and trebuchets away from the enemy. They need to continue fire until we are all out of ammunition."
"Aye," Ser Jorah agreed. "Let alone a single trench is not enough. We need to have multiples on the north side while keeping a field enough for the Dothraki and cavalry."
I turned to Dickon, who joined the battle meeting since his father's army is on the way, "Can the Tarly forces manage the wall?"
"The archers can, but we need to make sure all archers cover every vantage point," Dickon said.
"May I ask what seems to be the problem with our plans?" Ser Davos asked.
"Time," I answered. "You're giving the enemy a straightforward attack. What we need is time to slow the enemy down. As Ser Jorah recommends, is we make a 250 to a 300-meter distance to make a trench, allowing artillery fire and the dragons drapes. It doesn't need to be fancy, but if we can get the ax men to collect trees in the nearby forest and harness the Dothraki forces to halt these into place."
"They need to work continuously, along with additional workers to chop the branches and sharpening them as stakes," Ser Barristan added.
"There we can leave a hundred- and fifty-meter gap to allow the Dothraki to roam," Ser Jorah added. "There they can pick off any of the undead that managed to get through. If the artillery line is out, then the cavalry has plenty of room to perform cycle charges or fall back."
"Follow by another fortification or a trench, damming up the enemy within archer range,"
Dickon added. "Along with gangplanks ready to allow the troops to retreat when necessary."
"And the last fortification being manned where half of the army would be, while the other half inside," Ser Barristan added. "With chevrons made of staked mounds. If it comes to the retreat, then the flaming trench will be used."
Ser Davos, King Snow, and other members were surprised by the battle strategies my men and I created. Other than Dickon, Ser Barristan fought in many wars in Westeros. Ser Jorah, he fought in the Usurpers rebellion, the Greyjoy rebellion, serving in the Golden Companies wars, and the wars I took part in Slaver's Bay.
"Do we have the time to make this?" King Snow asked.
"If we start now, we will," Ser Barristan confirmed.
"Although, I'd like to address the evacuation," I said.
"Evacuation?" Ser Davos asked.
"You're seriously are not letting the women, children, and the elderly to stay and fight, or hide in the castle?" I asked.
There was silence between them.
I took a deep breath, "Those who are not capable of fighting, need to leave for White Harbor. Catligar and Velyarion ships are there waiting to evacuate. If we do not win this war, we can at least save as many people as possible."
King Snow nodded in agreement. As many men and warriors, we can get on the battlefield, we still need to consider the innocent not qualified to fight in battle. Ser Davos recommended those who volunteers to stay, should be kept in the crypts. However, Tyrion spoke up saying,
"You want to put the women and the children in a crypt with the dead people?" Tyrion asked.
"Especially when the Night King could resurrect the dead?"
He had a good point there.
So, the women and children who risk themselves to stay would be put in the Great Hall barricaded on both sides, and the fireplace secured. It's the best we could do. Once the meeting was over, we went straight into calculating the distance between firing an arrow and firing the catapults. A few attempts and we mark the range, and the Unsullied and Northerners started digging the trenches. Meanwhile, the ax men began cutting down trees.
Although there was a slight problem. The earth was hard to dig through as it was winter. Even with the men using the ox with the plough was difficult.
"We may need to consider just focusing on one trench," King Snow said, as we watch the men try to dig.
I scowled, then stared at the farmer, trying to assist with his ox and plough. Then an idea came along.
"We will need a bigger plough," I said.
"Huh?" he replied, confused.
"Get as many ploughs or the largest one," I told him, before fetching Viserion.
The King in the North was confused but did as I instructed. I summoned for Viserion, who arrived onto the field and stretched. I walked over, giving him a good rub on the face, which he purred leaning into my touch.
"I'm going to need your help," I told him.
Viserion raised a brow.
"I promise a nice ox as a reward," I promised.
This got his attention as he nodded. After twenty minutes, King Snow and several of my men arrived with the largest ploughs and several more with the thickest rope they could find. Ser Jorah realized what I was planning and chuckled, shaking his head. We took the ropes, securing them on the ploughs before tying the other end to either the golden dragons' legs and tail. It took several tries to secure the ropes and getting the ploughs deep into the earth and snow. But it wasn't long till Viserion crawled his way across the field, digging the first trenches. Everyone who was on the field watched in amazement. Let alone seeing a dragon latterly farming.
It only took a few hours to dig the trenches, and the fortification started enough for the men to get into softer dirt. Parts of the trench near Winterfell were dug up by man since there were parts of the gateways that needed to be done. In the end, using Viserion as an ox, gave us the advantage of breaking through the earth to get the battlefield ready.
"And to think dragons could be domesticated," Ser Barristan jests.
The two Unsullied brought an old ox over to Viserion. They quickly ran away, as Viserion breathed fire, cooking his reward. Of course, the farmer was compensated, but Viserion deserved his treat.
"You have a creative mind, just like Rhaegar," Ser Barristan added.
A few northerners who heard the compliment glared at Ser Barristan.
"We shouldn't mention my brother or father," I whispered.
The North Remembers, as the saying goes. They remember what Rhaegar did to their Lady. Although I know the truth, that Rhaegar did not kidnap her after talking to him in the Veil, it doesn't stop the matter that he took their Warden's daughter that started a war. An unnecessary war. Ser Barristan nodded in agreement. I cannot earn the Northerners' respect so easily. All I can do, is help them save Westeros against a common enemy.
.o0o.
Winterfell
The Dothraki and half of the Reach army arrived at Winterfell a few days later. Leading the Reach Army was Ser Garlan of House Tyrell. He had the armies assembled the moment Lady Olenna sent a letter to Hightower after seeing a Wight. One thing the Tyrell brothers knew was to never question their grandmother. So, without hesitation, half of their forces assembled their provisions and began marching North with twenty-thousand men. Jon was relieved to see both Dothraki and the Reach arriving in time, as the morning was spent talking to Ser Garlan with the War Council going over the battle strategies, approving on the new one. Ser Garlan had fought many battles since the War of the Five Kings, even in the Battle of the Blackwater with his brother Ser Loras before heading back to Highgarden when plans to collect Lady Sansa as his brother's bride failed. Sansa merely acknowledges his presence but did not go further.
All in all, their numbers were rising.
"And what about the Stormlands?" Alysanne asked Ser Garlan.
"Lady Elain's dowry has provided a thousand Stormland knights. The War of the Five Kings has caused a lot of their population to dwindle under Stannis' reign and expedition up North. I'm sorry, your grace," Ser Garlan explained.
"Thousand good men are more than nothing," she said, which Jon agreed.
However, there was still no word from the Lannister army. Dismissing the meeting, Alysanne Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah took Ser Garlan to discuss more strategies. Daenerys came over to Jon, recommending they go for a walk. Meanwhile, Ser Davos, Tyrion, and Varys walked around the Keep.
In the courtyard, another House has arrived with its forces. It was House Karstark, led by Lady Alys Karstark with her army and volunteer men. She did not bring her civilians, since getting the raven midway with orders to take the civilians to White Harbor. She complied, obeying her King's orders.
Ser Davos, Varys and Tyrion watched as Lord Royce came over greeting Lady Alys and escorting her inside with her council.
"The Karstarks," Varys noted, seeing their banner of a white sunburst on a black field.
"One of the better sigils," Tyrion said. "Beats an onion, anyway."
Ser Davos rolled his eyes as they began to walk, "Can't argue with that. Not so long ago, the Starks and the Karstarks were slaughtering each other on the battlefield. Jon Snow brought peace to the houses."
"And our Queen is grateful," Tyrion said.
"Her gratitude is lovely, but that's not my point," Ser Davos replied. "The Northmen are loyal to Jon Snow, not to her. They don't know her. The Free Folk don't know her. I've been up here a while, and I'm telling you, they're stubborn as goats. You want their loyalty; you have to earn it."
Tyrion paused, looking at the two men walk by. He knows that. That is why Alysanne is taking a more significant loss by evoking her claim on the North. She was giving the Norths its independence as compensation for what her family did to their previous Warden. But it was clear, she was not specific on the truce she and Jon Snow had made. With their focus on the battle that is to come, the truce of clear allegiance is uncertain of the agreement. Usually, these alliances are sorted through one resolution…marriage. However, there is one problem, Queen Alysanne has no intention of getting married except to one man. Her lover Ser Jorah.
Another thing he will have to mend with House Mormont if Lady Lyanna wasn't so…occupied. If that is one way to say for the young, she-bear's avoidance to those who were not Northerners. Although, there is still one more member of House Targaryen that is still eligible.
He climbed up the stairs to get on the wall, to join Varys and Ser Davos. They stared at the North Side, facing the battlefield where the battle will take place. Seeing the men hard at work, getting the fortifications and trenches assembled. On the field were Jon and Daenerys, checking on the men in their progress. During the journey up north, the dwarf noticed the two being acquainted on the ship.
"I sense that you're leading to a proposal," Tyrion said.
"A proposal is what I'm proposing," Ser Davos replied. "On the off chance we survive the Night King, what if the Seven Kingdoms, for once in their whole shit history, were ruled by a just woman and an honorable man?"
"They do make a handsome couple," Tyrion agreed.
"You overestimate our influence," Varys said. "Jon and Daenerys don't want to listen to lonely old men."
"I'm not that old," Tyrion disagreed then glance at Ser Davos. "Not as old as him."
"And the final say goes to Queen Alysanne," Varys added.
"Our Queen respects the wisdom of age," Tyrion said.
"Of course, she does," Varys agreed sarcastically. "Respect is how the young keep us at a distance, so we don't remind them of an unpleasant truth."
"What is that?" Tyrion asked.
"Nothing lasts," Varys sighed as he turned his attention to the courtyard, seeing Alysanne walking with Ser Jorah. They appeared in their professional roles, of Queen and General. But the way they express their emotions shows they care about one another. True love in its slightest form.
.o0o.
Daenerys and Jon walked over to the trench, seeing the progress of the men's work. They were about four feet in, needing to get a few more before inserting the spikes. The Unsullied stopped what they were doing, standing at attention, giving respect towards the Khaleesi. Meanwhile, the Northerners paused, nodding their heads to Jon, though one man glared at Daenerys before going back to work. Daenerys frowns slightly, despite everything she and Alysanne were giving for the North, they were still being treated as an outcast.
The worst being Lady Sansa. Over the past week, Lady Sansa has been harsh on them or been avoiding the Dragon sisters. Daenerys would like to address this with Jon.
"Your sister doesn't like me," Daenerys started.
Jon sighed, "She doesn't know you."
She raised a brow.
"If it makes you feel better, she didn't like me either when we were growing up," he tried to reason. Maybe earn a chuckle.
"She doesn't need to be my friend . . . but Alysanne and I are giving a lot for your cause," she told him. "If she can't respect us . . . "
She couldn't finish as she heard the Dothraki calling for her. Daenerys walked over to Kovarro and Aggo, her two loyalist bloodriders and Qhono. Jon followed to see what was the matter. They came to give a report on the dragons feeding. Since they have to control it, so there wouldn't be a livestock shortage.
"How many today?" Daenerys asked.
"Only twenty-seven goats and fifteen sheep," Kovarro answered.
Daenerys paused, estimating how much Drogon was eating, along with Rhaegal and Viserion. It wasn't a lot, usually the amount they eat as a snack and not a meal since Drogon usually eats twice that amount. Something was not right.
"What's the matter?" Jon asked.
"The dragons are barely eating," Daenerys answered.
They took two horses going out of the outskirts where the dragons have taken as their domain.
Ghost had accompanied them, still being cautious when staring at the three dragons. Drogon and
Rhaegal were finishing up his meal, nipping at the scraps left on the bones. Meanwhile, Viserion was curled up asleep. Although he would shiver now and then. The two awake dragons stopped to stare at the humans who approach, recognizing their bonded riders.
"What's wrong with them?" Jon asked.
Drogon leaned forward.
"They don't' like the North," she answered, rubbing Drogon's snout.
Rhaegal came closer, startling Jon then hesitantly petted him. Rhaegal amber eyes widen with glee. Jon could sense the strong pull towards the green dragon. The same feeling, he felt, when reunited with Ghost at Craster's Keep. Speaking of which, the white Direwolf growled at Rhaegal. The green dragon pulled his head back, tilting slightly as he stared at the massive wolf. A new specimen that wasn't a dog. Curious, Rhaegal leans forward to sniff it, wanting to see if it was friend or dinner. When smelling his rider's scent on Ghost, Rhaegal knew not to kill the furry creature. Ghost tilted his head and looked at Jon, who shared the surprised expression.
Daenerys chuckled, thinking Rhaegal liked Ghost and climbed her way up onto Drogon, "Go on."
"I don't know how to ride a dragon," Jon said, staring at Rhaegal, who stared back.
"Nobody does. Until they ride a dragon," Daenerys replied playfully.
Jon examined Rhaegal, "What if he doesn't want me to?"
"Then I've enjoyed your company, Jon Snow," she replied almost seriously.
You're joking, Jon thought. His only experience with the dragons other than the encounter on Dragonstone was being carried by Viserion. And riding in a dragon's claw was not comfortable, especially the landing.
Seeing that she wasn't. He scoffed and tried to get on Rhaegal. It was a struggle at first. Not like riding a saddled horse. Hell, he rode a horse bareback, and still, this was a struggle to get on. As Rhaegal muscles moved, the texture of his scaly skin, and grasping onto small spikes. He almost lost his balance slouching over the green dragon. Mimicking Daenerys' position, he noticed that Rhaegal didn't have the same quills as Drogon.
"What do I hold onto?" Jon asked.
"Whatever you can," she playfully answered. "Although, you need to say valahd."
Jon glared at her. As he found two spikes. Once he grabbed them, he said the words, "Valahd."
Rhaegal gave a chitter, flapping his wings, and took to the air without warning. Jon held on tight, his thighs pressing deep into the dragons hide as he flew into the sky for the second time. This surprised Jon, seeing the world from a whole new perspective. Daenerys smiled as she rubbed Drogon's back, gesturing him to follow. It wasn't long till Daenerys and Drogon caught up, leading the way, as she tried to show him some instruction. They flew over Winterfell, thus surprising everyone.
Varys, Ser Davos, and Tyrion paused what they were doing on the wall and watched the two dragons fly over. For a moment, they thought they saw Jon. Alysanne and Jorah, who had climbed up the wall to examine the perimeter saw this as well. Seeing Jon on the dragon, this only increased their theory that Jon is indeed Rhaegar's son. Since only those with Dragon's blood from the dragon lords can comfortably ride a dragon. Alysanne turned to Jorah, who merely nodded, seeing her concern.
Meanwhile, back to the dragons, they soar across the Wolfswood, before reaching the county sides of the mountains and ravines. Ignorant on maneuvering Rhaegal, as he tried to ride the dragon like a horse. Rhaegal gave a shriek to get his rider's attention as the connection that Jon could not describe put them in sync. Screaming at the top of his lungs, from the adrenaline as they glided down and corrected over the frozen river. He soon got Rhaegal to catch up with Daenerys, who lead the way. Realizing where they were, he gestures Rhaegal in a different direction towards a familiar spot. Daenerys noticed this and followed. They soon landed.
"You've completely ruined horses for me," Jon accused, still baffled in what happened.
Daenerys smiled along with a laugh.
They soon reach their destination of a waterfall. The sight was beautiful, seeing the water flow down while being surrounded by ice and snow. The rare beauties of Winter.
"We could stay a thousand years . . . no one would find us," Daenerys said.
Jon paused, for what he said brought back memories of Ygritte. How she pleaded they stay in the cave, forgetting about Mance Rayder and the Night's Watch. Shaking his head from that memory, he sighed.
"We'd be pretty old," Jon said.
Daenerys smiled, giving a chuckle as she came over to him.
"It's cold up here for a southern girl," he added.
"So, keep the princess warm," she challenged playfully.
The two embraced each other and began to kiss. They've stolen a few kisses back on the Balerion, making sure the others did not find them. The last thing Jon needed is sabotaging the alliance because of the older sister. Although, he was glad Daenerys has allowed to take things slow. Not rushing it, especially with a battle ahead. Their lips continued to mold around one another, yet there was a sense of being watched. Jon opened his eyes, seeing the dragons were watching. More prominently, Drogon was glaring at him. One could describe a father glaring at potential suitors. They pulled back when Drogon made a growl.
Jon was hesitant, yet Daenerys smiled amused.
"Don't be afraid." She assured him as she grabbed the collar of his cloak, bringing him down for another kiss.
Jon complied, kissing her back, savoring those sweet lips. Yet he opens his eyes, still seeing Drogon glaring at him. Giving him a deadly warning.
.o0o.
Meanwhile…
Viserion is woken up from his nap, seeing that his brothers were absent. Instead, his eyes were locked with two small beady red eyes. Ghost who remained where he was sat there staring at Viserion. The Golden Dragon paused, tilting his head and looked around, seeing there was no one else. No one and he sensed no threat from the direwolf.
Ghost tilted his head again, wondering what the dragon will do.
Viserion adjusted his arm, revealing a half-eaten goat. He yanked at one leg, pulling it apart before giving the smaller piece to Ghost. The white wolf gave a bark, diving into the partially cooked meat. Viserion merely nodded, nibbling as well, mainly because he was bored.
.o0o.
Evening.
Sansa's POV
Sansa was reading a raven scroll from one of the houses. She was not pleased with the message that was written. She was crossed in the situation at hand, having the Dragon Sisters here in Winterfell. Although the Dragon Sisters brought their armies, allies, and provisions, the stain their brother and father left still lingers. An open wound. All-day, she watches and prepares the city, especially going over the numbers of people who are going to be evacuated soon to White Harbor. There were too many people here in Winterfell, a risk she was not willing to take if her people are condensing into one location and possibly die.
There was a knock on the door.
"Come in," Sansa said.
Jon entered the room, coming to collect her for dinner. Although he stopped when seeing Sansa holding a raven scroll.
"Lord Glover wishes us good fortune, but he's staying in Deepwood Motte with his men," Sansa told him.
This made Jon pissed reciting what the Lord promised several months ago, "'House Glover will stand behind House Stark as we have for a thousand years.' Isn't that what he said?"
"'I will stand behind Jon Snow,' he said," Sansa corrected, standing up. "The King in the North."
"I told you we need allies," Jon reminded.
"You didn't tell me you were going to abandon your crown," Sansa snapped.
"I didn't abandon my crown," he reminded, walking over to her. "I never wanted a crown. All I wanted was to protect the North. I brought two armies' home with me, three dragons—"
"And a Targaryen Queen," Sansa countered.
"Do you think we can beat the Army of the Dead without her?" he asked. "I fought them, Sansa. Twice. You want to worry about who holds what tittle; I'm telling you it doesn't matter. Without the Dragon Sisters, we don't stand a chance."
Sansa looked at him, surprised, and he took a deep breath.
"I know, Alysanne and I didn't sign a contract of the truce…" he paused then sighed. "Do you have any faith in me at all?"
"You know I do," Sansa said.
He stepped closer. "Queen Alysanne does not want the North. She is giving us the North and putting trust in me to lead it. She means good faith between our two houses. For all of us. She's not her father."
Sadly, Sansa has a hard time believing that. Their father had a part in Robert's Rebellion. A part of her believes this was a ploy to distract them before turning their armies on us. She honestly doesn't want to believe that the Mad King's daughters truly wanted to help them. Not after what the Mad King did to her grandfather and uncle. Two men she will never meet. Or what Rhaegar did to her aunt. How he kidnapped and raped her. Three members of House Stark dead within a year.
Also, she noticed the way Princess Daenerys stares at Jon. Was there a potential of a political marriage? Will Queen Alysanne have Jon and Daenerys wed, which will keep the Targaryen control over the North? She wishes Jon hold interest to a Northern girl, hell even a Wilding if it keeps the North free from Southern Control.
Sansa sighed, "No, but they're much prettier."
Jon scoffed softly.
"Did you forge an alliance to save the North or because you love Daenerys?" she then asked.
Jon gave her a cautious look, "It's time for dinner."
Sansa thought so.
.o0o.
Alysanne's POV
By evening, my suspicions about Jon is coming true. He looks like Rhaegar, siring Lyanna Stark's colors. Then Rhaegal approaching him back in Dragonstone. Now Rhaegal has allowed King Snow to ride him. Jorah keeps reminding me that even if Jon was Rhaegal's son, then he is most likely a bastard since my brother was married to Elia Martell. Still doesn't stop the fact he is my nephew. Once more, damn you, Rhaegar.
Throughout supper, I keep staring at King Snow now and then. Still trying to find any reason why he couldn't be my nephew. The only thing that wasn't Targaryen about him was his dark hair and eyes. Then again, when King Aegon V married Black Bertha, and sired Prince Duncan, who had dark hair. I swear, I wish genetics make it so simple. After dinner, I went for a walk needing to clear my head.
Jorah came over, "You alright?"
"Just overwhelmed," I confessed. "The culture shock and planning a war."
Jorah nodded, "There is someone I want you to meet."
"Is it your cousin?" I asked.
Jorah shook his head. He has been avoiding Lady Lyanna Mormont since arriving here. I know he wronged his family. But in order to move forward, you need to look into the past. That is what I did after Viserys. In Qarth, Jorah helped me realize I needed help and to start trusting others. A part of me will always resent Viserys, but I forgave my brother.
"Then, who?" I asked again.
"The apprentice who helped save my life. I've got a word, he is here in Winterfell," he answered.
I smiled softly, "I would like to meet this man."
Jorah nodded with a smile, leading the way towards the library. The library was dimmed, the only source of light being from the fireplace and a few lit candles. It appeared to be vacant, until spotting a man behind a bookshelf reading. A rounded man, yet, he seems more interested in the contents of the book to notice our presence.
I cleared my throat, getting his attention.
The man looked up, pausing for a moment until realizing who was here. He stumbled as he shouted, "OH!" and stood up, correcting himself.
"So, you're the man?" I asked.
"Um . . . which man am I, Your Grace?" the young man replied utterly confused.
"The one who saved Ser Jorah when no one else could," I said.
"They could, they just wouldn't," Jorah clarified.
This caught my attention, "It seems I have to make some changes at the Citadel then. A great service merits a great reward. May I have your name, kind ser?"
"Oh, it's Samwell. It's my honor to serve you, Your Grace." Samwell said.
"Still, there must be something I can reward you with?" I offered.
Samwell paused, thinking about it, "If it's not too much trouble, I could use a pardon."
"For what crime?" I asked, confused. He doesn't appear to be a murderer or a rapist.
"Um – I borrowed a few books from the Citadel," Samwell explained.
Jorah chuckled slightly when hearing this. I smiled, holding back my mirth of this man's pure innocence.
"And also, a sword," Samwell added.
This caught me off guard, for I've been told the Citadel only contains books and scrolls.
"A sword at the Citadel?" I asked baffled.
"From my family," Samwell clarified. "It's been in House Tarly for generations. It would've been mine anyway, eventually, but my father had other ideas."
I had a sickening feeling in my stomach. Staring at Samwell, seeing an abused child the way he spoke about his father.
"Not Randyll Tarly?" I asked.
"You know him?" Samwell replied, baffled.
Jorah paused, looking at me. Aware of my situation with House Tarly.
"I offered to let him retain his lands and titles if he bent the knee. He refused; therefore, he was my prisoner until Lord Willas decides his fate. The Warden of the Reach has considered to let Lord Tarly serve me against the Army of the Dead. He's making his way here as we speak." I explained.
Samwell tensed upon hearing this, gulping some air, "Well… at least my brother is home safe."
I stared into his eyes, "Your brother is here in Winterfell as a secured hostage, to ensure your father does fight."
Samwell inhales sharply as his bottom lip quiver. The man who abused him is marching North as we speak to fight for the living. I may not know what has transpired, but I could see Lord Randyll Tarly obliterated his son's sense of worth. There is a high chance all three men will die on the battlefield and thus ending House Tarly's legacy. If I have known about this, I would have sent Dickon back to Hornhill, ensuring the bloodline continues.
"Hm. Thank you, Your Grace," Samwell managed to say. "For telling me. And m—may I?"
"Of course," I assured him.
He took the opportunity to leave as fast as he could. I turned to Jorah on the situation.
"Did I put a family in danger?" I whispered.
"They've made their choice," Jorah replied back softly. "It's one confrontation we cannot resolve."
I nodded, still having a gut feeling this reunion will end with pleasantry.
.o0o.
Winterfell
Samwell rushed out of the library, trying not to bump into anyone, yet his emotions were everywhere. He feared to confront his father, knowing he took Heartsbane. He feared to see Dickon again since his younger brother favors their father. So many emotions were stirring that his sight was nearly blind with tears. Once outside, the cold hair helped sober him up, wiping them away.
The courtyard was still active as the men started settling for the night.
There across the courtyard was Bran. He sat there in his wheelchair, looking at him. Sam went over to see if he needed something.
"What are you doing out here?" Samwell asked.
"Waiting, for an old friend," Bran answered. "It's time to tell Jon the truth."
Samwell shook his head, "No, no. You're his brother. Shouldn't you tell him?"
"I'm not his brother," Bran explained. "He trusts you more than anyone. Now's the time."
Samwell took a deep breath.
.o0o.
Meanwhile….
Jon was down in the Crypt, lighting the candles for the deceased. More specifically for his father's family. He needed some guidance from his father, seeing how far the city has become in preparation for this war. The tension growing ever so high, not just the army of the dead, but the foreign army, both Unsullied and Dothraki being mistreated of the Northerner's arrogance. He tried his best to ensure everyone that the Dragon Sisters mean no harm, that he was still their King, yet the Northerners fear the Targaryens will change their mind in a second.
This morning, he was quite impressed by Alysanne, discussing the flaws in his original plan and seeing two elite War experts come up with a plan that could save Winterfell. Let alone his first time officially riding a dragon. He couldn't explain it, but when Rhaegal came over to him, it was like the dragon was asking him to go riding.
Anyway, he came over to Ned's Stark statue and began to light a candle for the honorable man.
There was so much left unsaid. A promise his father could not keep.
"Is my mother alive? Does she know about me? Where I am, where I'm going? Does she care?" Jon asked Ned for the last time.
"The next time we see each other, we'll talk about your mother. Hmm? I promise," Ned promised him.
Sadly, Ned Stark wasn't able to fulfill his promise.
Jon sighed.
The sound of somebody falling caught his attention. He went to investigate to find Samwell on the ground trying to stand up.
"Sam," Jon greeted.
"I'm sorry, I know I'm not supposed to be down here," Samwell said.
It was a blessing for Jon to have Samwell here. He did not expect his best friend to be here -either. For them, though, Samwell was safe down south back at the Citadel. He came over, giving his best friend a hug. With the tension with his family, of Bran being distant, Arya acting strange, and Sansa being stubborn, a friend is in order.
"Were you hiding from me?" Jon asked.
"Of course not," Samwell answered.
"What are you doing in Winterfell?" Jon asked. "Or did you read every book in the Citadel already?"
Jon smiled at his joke, but stop to see that Samwell was not laughing. Something was wrong since he could tell his friend was crying. His thought went to Samwell's self-made family.
"What's wrong? Gilly? Is she all right?"
"She's good," Samwell assured, sniffing some.
"Little Sam?"
Samwell nodded, "Don't you know?"
"Know what?"
"Alysanne . . . She is holding Dickon hostage. They were her prisoners."
Jon took a deep breath, aware of the situation with House Tarly. He genuinely thought Samwell would be in Oldtown, and the three men would never cross paths.
"I'm so sorry." Jon apologized. "She had a choice, execution or prisoners. You can't hold it against her. We need to end this war."
Samwell paused, taking Jon's words, understanding he had a point. Alysanne had spared his brother and father. The same as Jon sparing thousands of wildlings when they refused to kneel. He took a deep breath, knowing why he came down here in the first place.
"What brings you down here," Jon asked, changing the subject.
"I've got some news…" Samwell answered hesitantly.
"Will it help with this war?" Jon asked.
"Uh…not exactly," Samwell answered. "But it's something you should know. You are more than just the King in the North. You are the King of the bloody Seven Kingdoms."
Jon stopped looking at his friend, not understanding what he meant.
Samwell took a deep breath, "Bran and I worked it out. Gilly found a High Septon's diary. Bran had…whatever Bran has."
"What are you talking about?" Jon asked.
Samwell took a deep breath, "Your mother . . . was Lyanna Stark."
Jon exhales sharply, staring sharply at Samwell. All his life, he grew up believing he was a bastard. He has heard many rumors of who his mother could be, from a bar wench, a prostitute, and a wet nurse. He spent years being called Ned Stark's Bastard. The man put his reputation on the line to raise Jon as his own. To be raised in a noble family, instead of on the streets or in an orphanage, assuming his mother died in the war. Since Ned wouldn't dare take a baby from his mother. So, to hear that the man he has been calling father isn't his father by blood angered him. Also, the fact that his mother was Lyanna Stark. The woman he believed to be his aunt. The woman who was kidnapped, raped, and tortured. The thought of his true biological father stirred him profoundly.
"And your father… your real father was Rhaegar Targaryen." Samwell continued. "You've never been a bastard. You're Aenar Targaryen, the true heir to the Iron Throne. I'm sorry, I know it's a lot to take in."
Jon walked over to Samwell.
"My father was the most honorable man I ever met," Jon whispered harshly.
Samwell nodded.
"You're saying he lied to me all my life." Jon accused.
"No," Samwell assured. "Your father—well, Ned Stark. He promised your mother he'd always protect you. And he did. Robert would have murdered you if he knew. You're the true King. Aenar Targaryen, First of His Name, Protector of the Realm, all of it."
Jon stepped back; his breathing shaken by this information.
After a moment, he turned around, staring at his mother statue.
He was a Targaryen.
Hey guys, so I need your help really bad. I am stuck on choosing the fate of one character, the end result is the same, but I seriously don't know if this one character should live or die. So, I genuinely need your help.
Should Lyanna Mormont live or die?
Please leave your answer in the reviews.
Thanks for reading, and please leave a review!