Sister's Keeper
Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones
Chapter 97: Dragon's Wrath
Alysanne's POV
When I opened my eyes, I found myself in Dragonstone. Only it was in the past with the finer details of luxury. I was in the throne room. I sat on the ground, staring at the carved stone, not wanting to look at Visenya. I needed her guidance for three weeks, and she ignored me. So many emotions stirred inside me. The anger, the rage, practically the same emotions the Ice Dragon held.
The sounds of her shoes echoed across the floor. When Visenya stood in front of me, about to kneel to give a hug. I drew Frozenfang and went for the attack. Visenya immediately pulled away, drawing Dark Sister. The emotions were in charge, basically irrational as I went into the attack. Our Valyrian blades clashing over and over, causing sparks to fly. I couldn't stop, I just wanted to hurt her. Wanting to hurt somebody.
Our hands were high up on the guards of the swords. Using the high guard position. Visenya using both hands while I only had one. Our strikes becoming more subtle yet far quicker. I went for the attack, which Visenya did a spin, blocking from the other side. I was blind with rage, trying the perry upwards towards her face, when Visenya kicked me in the legs, causing me to fumble.
She maneuvered around me, disarming Frozenfang, before pressing Dark Sister against my chest with the blunt side while securing me from behind. I tried fighting her off, doing a headbutt, except she merely kicked me behind the knees, causing me to collapsed while restraining me. Visenya had the upper hand.
"Let it out," she murmured.
I growled, trying to break free, yet her hold became tighter, making it impossible to move. I bowed my head, screaming. Crying in defeat. After a while, Visenya dropped Dark Sister and held me properly. I sobbed, clinging to her robes. She shushed me, combing her fingers through my hair.
I knew I was in the wrong to attack her. She knows the emotional pain I was going through since she lost Rhaenys in the First Dornish War. Although she did not witness her sister fall, but the arrow that took down Meraxes is the same pain I was feeling. Two sisters who sacrificed themselves for their older siblings. Rhaenys died for Aegon's legacy, and Daenerys died for mine. We didn't ask for it, and yet they took the risk.
Once the tears stopped falling, and I calmed down. I felt drained, that Visenya helped me up and guided me to the Master Apartment. She led the way to the bathing chamber and started a bath.
"Why are you starting a bath?" I asked.
"The scars on your body reopened," she answered.
I stared down at my body, the scar on my chest where Viserys cut me. The blood soaking my tunic. I glanced at my left shoulder, seeing more blood and feeling it spilling down on my back. This surprised me, yet I was emotionally exhausted to respond. It brought back the memory during the funeral—those dark thoughts.
Visenya came over and started removing the clothes, exposing the caked blood and fresh wounds. She sighed as she took my hand and lead me to baths. The hot water started to warm my cold skin. Meanwhile, Visenya removed her robe and grabbed a sponge to wash away the blood.
"The emotional trauma has ripped, showing itself in a way you can understand. All the scars you had for Daenerys are opening again," she explained, washing the blood off my back.
She handed me a sponge, as I began to wash the blood off my chest. I felt my chest feeling the opening of the wound back when Viserys cut me. The memories filled my head since Viserys was in a drunken rage after the Dothraki ritual of Daenerys eating a horse's heart to prove her son was worthy to the Khalasar. His jealousy and temper destroyed the majority of my life.
I continued to wash my chest, feeling the numbness return. Despite the bath's hot water, my veins were becoming cold—a tingle sensation around the wounds and my fingers. I tried to bring back the sensation to my fingers by scrubbing my nails. No matter how much I scrub away the phantom blood, it always remains there. As if Daenerys blood lingers on my hands. I asked her to head to Dorne. To get the Dornish marching, and it cost her, her life. An irritated sighed escaped my lips dropping the sponge and covering my face in guilt.
"You have my hand, Alysanne, and my ear, if you need it," Visenya murmured.
I took a deep breath, feeling my throat clenched, "Why weren't you there? Why did you ignore me?"
Visenya sighed.
"I needed you," I whispered. "I needed your guidance, your ability to handle the situation."
Visenya washed my shoulder, "You didn't need me."
I thrashed around, glaring at her, "You're wrong. I needed you. I spent weeks filled with anxiety and scared. My dreams clouded with nightmares of my sister being tortured or worse. Even just coming here to escape the nightmares. You have been there for me…until now. You're practically a mother to me."
Visenya gave a sad smile as she took my hand, "Sometimes, in order for the offspring to grow is by not helping them at all and let them figure out for themselves. You needed to learn and grow without me. It was time for you to depend on yourself and the council."
"My council failed me," I sobbed, bowing my head. "It costed Daenerys's life."
Visenya cradle my head, "Your sister accepted death. She knew she had a purpose, and the price it came from. You have been your sister's keeper since you were four years old. But in the past few years, she has tried to be your keeper. Knowing she won't be there in the end."
Another sobbed escape.
"I want Cersei dead," I cried. "I want her head."
Visenya lifted my head to look at her, "You have every right to be angry. Every right to take your vengeance on the people who wronged you. However, don't let that anger consume you. This anger you are feeling is the dragon's wrath. Many Targaryens have succumbed to it. It feels like nothing can take it, except eliminating the cause for the fury. And it will change you, take you a dark place that holds consequences. You need to let this wrath go before it consumes and turn you into something you are not."
"How?" I begged.
"That is for you to decide," she murmured, wiping the tears away. "You must dig deep inside yourself and let go." She then kissed the top of my head, "Right now, you stay here to allow your body to rest."
I only nodded, knowing the dead can't give the precise answer.
Sleep wasn't necessary for this realm, or the grief still has prevented it. I merely spend the nights walking along within castle, trying to find the answers. Even went to the Sept of Dragonstone. In the present and reality, the Sept of Dragonstone was destroyed because of Stannis Baratheon's fanatical conversion. In the Sept, it contains statues representing the Seven Aspects of the Seven gods, carved from the masts of the ships that had carried the first Targaryens from Valyria. The statues were beautiful with painted with jewelry decorating them. The Crone had pearl eyes; the Father had a gilded beard.
Meanwhile, the Stranger looked more animal than human. Not a mysterious figure in a shroud. I would sit in the middle and pray to the Seven for their guidance. They spoke to me during the Siege of Yunkai and the Battle of Winterfell. However, all I heard was silence.
I inhale sharply, wondering why the Gods were not listening to my prayers. Why they haven't given me a sign. Unable to hold myself in the Sept, I headed towards Aegon's Garden. The melancholy garden calmed my senses, smelling the piney scents while sitting by the wild roses. Cutting a few of and picked at the petals, trying to figure out what to do with the siege coming up. Debating if the original plan will work. A part of me wanted to ride Viserion and burn down the Red Keep. Let King's Landing be and destroy my ancestral home. Just destroy it with Cersei inside it.
Damn the Iron Throne.
I covered my face taking a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. After a few deep breaths, I lower my hands and saw some movement. It happened so fast, but for a moment, I thought I saw someone who wasn't Visenya. The person appeared to be male. I got up going after him, seeing him walking out of the garden. I could barely make out his appearance, he wore black scale armor and a red cloak. He had short golden-white hair along with a band encrusted with rubies.
"Wait!" I called out.
The man continues to walk. His pace was long strides that I couldn't catch up, even when I was near run, he was still too far away. He was heading towards Windwyrm. A tower shaped like a dragon that screamed defiance. I was practically running, trying to catch up to the man. I was getting closer, just as he reached the door. I reached forward to grab his cloak, when all of a sudden, he vanished. I stumbled back, wondering what just happened.
Was that a…a ghost?
I slumped against the door, taking a deep breath.
"I've gone mad," I cried.
"You are not mad," Visenya scolded, appearing out of nowhere. She knelt down, taking my hand. "Dragon's Wrath is hard to control. You need to come to your senses and let it go."
I just don't know how to let it go. I've let go of so much from my past, losing memories of family in Westeros. Forgiving so many people who have wronged me during the rebellion, after discovering the truth. Even Viserys, I have forgiven over time. So how can I have this rage when witnessing my sister's death.
"Who was that man?" I asked.
"What man?" she replied, confused.
"I saw a man and chased him here," I explained.
Visenya furrows her brows, examining the area. Seeing we were at Windwyrm. She then sighed, "It might have been a memory. Sometimes memories would appear now and then. With so many Targaryens, the man you saw could be anyone. "
I sighed, for I was curious who the man was. For if it was another spirit who can give guidance.
"It is time for you to wake up," She said.
"Must I?" I asked. "I don't know if I can control myself. Or make the biggest mistake of my life."
Visenya cradled my cheek, "You will find a way to control this rage. You have a husband who is there for you. Don't make the same mistake I did with Aegon."
"I'm scared," I said.
"I know, just trust yourself and your closes allies," she murmured. "Now, it's time to wake."
With nothing else to say, she leaned over and pecked my forehead waking me up.
.o0o.
It was late afternoon when I woke up. I don't know how long I've been asleep. I simply found myself in the master apartment alone. Missandei is probably fetching fresh supplies while Jorah is handling the preparation for battle. The numbness still remained, as the spiraling rage stirred deep in my stomach that I have the urge to vomit. The thought caused my stomach to comply as I rushed to the bathing chamber towards the privy to vomit the little content.
Damn this stress, I thought.
I thought the stress I had when traveling through the Ghiscari Provence was one thing. But three weeks or so, it has been more than a headache or migraine. It was like all my emotions are taking form. I need to get a hold of myself. Not let this dragon's wrath as Visenya puts it take control of me. Otherwise, I will not be able to perform for the War Council. I need to shut down this grief for a month. Be numb to grief, not to the world.
I took a deep breath, getting up, and leaving the bathing chamber. I put on a shawl, before taking a chair and walked over to the balcony. I sat down and stared at the horizon. Watching as Drogon and Viserion hunting in the bay, catching massive fish and other sea creatures. Their movement being almost to a dance. I was in a trance, watching them hunt as my mind went blank, not thinking about anything or anyone.
It would be night when Jorah entered the room. He stared at me as I sat by a chair, staring out towards the darkness. A shawl still wrapped around my shoulder. He took a deep breath, removing his cloak and tunic before coming over.
"The sight of you tears my heart…fills me full of rage," he said as he came over, resting a hand on my shoulder, before kneeling before me. "I feel I must kill someone."
"Daenerys's ashes" I mumbled.
"Missandei and Grey Worm collected all from the center pyre. They've have put it in a jeweled encrusted chest, and the Unsullied have been making a marble tomb next to your mother." He assured, taking my hand.
I took a deep breath, closing my eyes, "I'm sorry that I am."
Jorah stared into my eyes, squeezing my hand. He opened his mouth to speak, yet I pulled away, walking towards the fireplace.
"I don't want you to worry about me," I said, adjusting my shawl. "Ah, I'm just a little shaken."
Jorah stood as he walked over, but stop giving to give space, "Alysanne, I know what it feels like—"
"No," I interrupted, the anger vibrating in my body with burning tears. "No, I have lived a life on the run…and I have lost a child. I lost a brother-husband. Raped by him for so many years. I've been starved with an army, and I-I've been beaten, and I've been betrayed, and I've –" another sobbed escaped as I cling to myself, before covering my face. "I've… I've been imprisoned, and I will not…" I covered my mouth to suppress another sob before taking a deep breath. "I survived. And this…I am supposed to be shattered by this? The Last Targaryen. Well, I won't be. I won't…" more sobs escaped. "Dany's death won't go in vain."
Jorah came closer and wrapped me in his arms. He kissed the top of my head while rubbing my back.
"Her death won't be in vain," he assured, still embracing me.
"I'm scared in becoming my father," I confessed, burring my face into his chest.
Jorah cradle my cheek, gently guiding me to look at him, "You are not your father. Ser Barristan says you are your mother's daughter."
"My father became mad around the age I am in," I reminded him.
"Alysanne," he said, holding my face. "You are not going mad. You are grieving. You are mourning. You have every right to be angry at the world. After everything you've been through, you have every right. All I ask is for you not to push me away."
I nodded until my stomach growled.
Blush dusted my cheeks, which he smiled.
"I could eat something right now," I mumbled.
Jorah pecked my forehead, "I'll have someone bring you some food."
I nodded, stepping away. Jorah went to the door to tell the guard to get some food. I sat down by the fireplace, wiping the tears away. By the Seven, it is like a never-ending waterfall. When I glanced at the fireplace, I've noticed the dragon eggs have been placed on the fire. Missandei must have put them there. I honestly thought the dragon eggs would turn to ash, yet they remained, except not as dragnets.
My husband came back as he sat down next to me.
"How long have I've been asleep?" I asked.
"About two days," he answered, taking my hand.
"I'm sorry," I apologize. "In how I've been acting these past few weeks."
"I don't hold it against you. The situation is not what we expected, and grief takes many forms." He assured. "When I lost my mother, her death distance the relationship between my father and I. She held us close, yet when she died, her death broke my father's heart that he was distant for some time."
I nodded, squeezing his hand, "I don't know how I married a good man."
"I'm not a good man," he reminded me. "We somehow managed to work together."
I sighed, resting my head on his shoulder, "Still, you have been there for me. Even when I don't want you, you were always there serving and protecting me."
"As I told you before, I will fight for you, kill for you. And die for you."
"The only death I want you to have is of age," I said.
"The same for you," he agreed.
Jorah has been my rock. He keeps me stable in situations in which I don't understand. He has been there for me since the beginning after Pentos. Despite his betrayal, which was more towards Viserys, he redeemed himself. I am thankful the gods have delivered him to me. Even if he is stubborn as a bear.
After a while, a tray of food was brought in. It was stew, with some potatoes and bread. Sitting at the table, I ate the stew, knowing it has been tested. At first, it was a struggle for not properly eating for over a week. Yet once the bowl was empty, my stomach felt satisfied. Jorah was pleased that I was eating again.
Once done, Jorah took the tray out while I climbed back into bed. When he returned, he changed, before climbing into bed again. Already, I felt tired again. The emotional exhaustion cleared as day. So, I curled up against my husband, breathing in his scent. Jorah wrapped his arms around me while rubbing my back. I feel bad that I've been failing at my duties as a wife, yet I've been emotional. It wasn't long before I fell asleep again.
This time the dreams were empty.
No nightmares.
A peaceful void of nothing.
Despite the rage stirring inside me whispering in the back of my head.
.o0o.
The following day I dressed and groomed before heading to the Painted Table to go over some battle plans. Although I need to talk to Tyrion. Right now, I don't feel comfortable with Tyrion as Hand of the Queen. When it comes to a situation involving his family, it seems like he gives them the benefit without a doubt, instead of seeing the bigger picture. Ever since arriving in Westeros, other than the plan for the Unsullied crossing through Westeros.
His failure to save Daenerys was the final straw.
When I entered the Chamber of the Painted Table. I found Tyrion was already there along with Varys. Those two are basically inseparable. I took a deep breath for this was a private conversation. I talked with Jorah about this, and he agreed. As much we respect Tyrion, he is compromised when it comes to his family. Although he wants to overthrow Cersei, his family is still his weakness.
"Varys, leave the room, I need to talk with Tyrion in private," I said.
Varys gave the nod, before leaving the chamber. Tyrion straightens up, hesitant almost. I have not truly spoken to him since Daenerys's death.
"Your Grace," Tyrion greeted. "I'm glad to see you are well."
I merely nodded, staring at him to see what else he will say.
"My deepest condolences," he added. "Your sister was remarkable."
I nodded again, "Lord Tyrion, it has come to my attention that you are no longer capable of being the Hand of the Queen."
This surprised Tyrion, not expecting it, "May I ask why?"
"Don't get me wrong, Tyrion, you make a good council. However, I need a Hand who takes me seriously and listens. Twice you have told me that your sister will help us in the armistice and the negotiation to get Daenerys back. You say you know your sister. But I don't think you know her. You are biased when it comes to your family. You give them the benefit without a doubt, despite everything they have done to you. I need my Hand to be guarded when it comes to the other Lords and Ladies. Not letting familiarity blind them." I explained.
"I see," Tyrion said.
"You are welcome to my council, and when the time comes, I will arrange a Master's position," I assure him.
"And who will be your Hand now?" he asked, removing the badge eyeing it.
"No one, right now, I need to make my own decisions," I answered.
Tyrion took a deep breath, before stepping over handing the badge over. I know I have offended him, maybe hurt his feelings. But the trust I had in him is gone. He barely did anything since arriving in Westeros. His vendetta against his own family is not strong enough to serve my purpose. And when the time comes, I will not be sparing Cersei Lannister. I will have Cersei Lannister executed. She will pay for what she did to my sister, the Tyrells, and everyone who has been a victim. There is no chance of her surviving all this.
Afterward, I let the Small Council inside the chamber. Jorah came over as he took my side. Meanwhile, Missandei, Grey Worm, and Varys entered the room. Everyone taking their position. Once settled, I looked at everyone.
"When will the War Council arrive?" I asked.
"The Velaryon, Celtigar, and Redwyne naval fleet will be here in a few days. Lord Willas has sent his brother Ser Garlan to take charge again of the Reachmen, along with Ser Gareth, with the remaining Stormlander knights. The Dornish are marching as we speak, including their naval forces." Varys reported.
"We have the numbers," Grey Worm said.
"We need a plan," Varys reminded.
"One of our original plans is to have the Naval Fleet blockade," Jorah said. "The Golden Company will most likely take the front line outside the gate while the Lannister forces protect inside of the city."
"Our plan is to starve them out while sneaking out men passed the Euron's Fleet, and take hold of the Red Keep," Tyrion added.
"What is there another way?" I started.
"What do you have in mind?" Missandei asked.
"We still continue with handling the Golden Company. Meanwhile, Viserion and I focus on the Red Keep," I answered. "the city will be remains unharmed, but the castle destroyed."
Varys and Tyrion's eyes widen when hearing this.
"Cersei has the people and refugees staying at the Red Keep," Varys reminded.
"Then have your little birds whisper that the Red Keep is not safe," I said.
"We should at least wait until the War Council arrives," Tyrion insisted.
I only nodded. Right now, my patience is running thin. Killing Cersei inside the Red Keep will be faster than waiting it out for the people to overthrow their false Queen. A new capital can be anywhere. I mean, I can rebuild Summerhall or make Dragonstone to house the royal family. Either way, I want this war to be over and done.
"You have until the War Council arrives to figure out the final plan," I warned the council. "Either it is the first, second, or third. I need variety now and security. We are no longer playing a game. This is war, and peace is no longer on the table."
With nothing else to say, I left the room with Missandei.
Inspiration has been from Outlander.
Who do you think the man was in the spirit realm?
Has Alysanne gone mad or is it anger?
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