Sister's Keeper
Edited by DesertMortician
Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones
Languages:
Common Tongue
Valyrian
Chapter 99: History Has Its Eyes on You.
Alysanne's POV
Jorah and I walked along the grounds as I contemplated the different battle strategies. The fact that Cersei Lannister is pregnant did not help matters. In fact, the Small Council had been trying to bring reason to the siege plans all day. It made me realize how irrational I had become these past two weeks. How desperate I was to kill Cersei, that I was willing to slaughter innocents.
"Alysanne," Jorah spoke.
We stopped walking when I realized we were in Aegon's garden. I turned to face him. The torches were lit so that I could see his face. Seeing he had aged some from the stress. The stress that I have caused. The guilt started building up because of my behavior. Even though Jorah understood the effects, grief and mourning can create…the extent of my behavior was unreasonable. I don't understand why my emotions are like this. It is like they have been heightened.
Jorah cradled my cheek as he stepped closer, "It's all right."
"No, it's not," I sighed. "I let my anger control me, I was close to killing thousands of innocent people. What's wrong with me? I've lost many people before…"
My parents, Rhaegar, Elia, Rhaenys, Aegon, and Ser Willem, were lost in my childhood. Then as I grew up, I lost a child. Until Daenerys's marriage, where the list continued with Viserys. As much as I hated him for what he did to me, I forgave him. However, the loss continued with Drogo, Rhaego, Rakharo, and Irri, who taught me about strength. And I thought that would be the end of it, until becoming to Astapor's Unsullied leader. Men who died serving me. I even lost a fiancé in Hizdahr zo Loraq, although I didn't love him, I respected him. I managed to move on, honoring them, and moving forward until Ser Barristan's death. His death struck me, yet he told me during the brick of death, he comforts me to move on. Even Aggo passed away, and I honored him.
However, Daenerys's death, her last words to me were 'Burn them all!' Had her experience in the Black Cells grown so much hate that she would rather see the city destroyed? The same exact words our father bellowed, believing wildfire could purify the city, and he was reborn as a dragon. The madness that has plagued my family for generations, appearing out of nowhere every now and then. And that anger had corrupted me until now.
Yet Daenerys is my sister. She has been in my life since the day she was born. I practically raised her since she was five years old. A sister and a daughter. Let alone the way she was killed. She should have passed from age, not decapitation. Cersei killed her just like that. Not even taking the time to think about the offer. Merely three minutes. 'Burn them all.'
In the end, I can't avenge Daenerys the way she wanted. Not through extreme violence and brutality.
I'm sorry, Dany, I thought.
I will honor her in another way. Most likely name a daughter after her. In the end, I can't put thousands of people through a slaughter.
"She will always be there," Jorah murmured.
I nodded, resting my head on his chest.
"Come, it is getting late," Jorah said, rubbing my back.
"You must be disappointed in me," I confessed. "In the plan, I thought about the Red Keep."
Jorah sighed, "It was a fair strategy, but it is something you will regret. You may cover it up and deny it, but you have a gentle heart. You would not only be respected and feared, but you would also be loved—someone who can rule and should rule. Centuries come and go without a person like that coming into the world. There are times when I look at you, and I still can't believe you're real. However, the path you almost took would make you far more feared than respected, nor loved."
"You think the original plan will work?" I asked, still resting against him.
"There needs to be a few modifications once we know our numbers," he answered. " the blockade is the safest option."
"And should I spare Cersei?" I asked.
Jorah took a deep breath as he placed a hand under my chin to stare into his blue orbs. "As much as I want her dead, the choice is yours if you want to exile her, live till the child is born, or execute her."
"I promised Lady Olenna justice for her son and two grandchildren," I murmured. "I've always kept my word."
"Well, not all of it. I would be dead if you did," he tried to tease.
I rolled my eyes, for it was a terrible joke.
"You're an exception," I grumbled.
His chest vibrated from that.
"Still," I sighed. "I feel like I'm losing trust in Tyrion."
"I've had the guards keeping watch over him. If there is a sign of betrayal, he will be arrested," he assured.
"Always thinking ahead," I murmured.
"After what happened in the Daznak Pit, I take your safety seriously." He murmured, then placed a kiss on my forehead. "Whatever your choice is on Cersei, I will support you on it."
I nodded, then yawned.
Jorah adjusted me that he held my arm, "Let's get some rest."
Not arguing, I let him lead us back to our bedchambers. As we were making our way out of the gardens, I saw the man from the spirit realm. He crossed through the garden, yet his figure was transparent, and I could barely make out his face. He was heading to the same route toward Windwyrm. I stopped, watching the stranger disappeared off in the distance.
Jorah stopped, "is something the matter?"
"Did you just see a man crossing by?" I asked, pointing at the direction the man went.
Jorah paused, staring at the direction when two Unsullied guards walked by on patrol. The way they walked, indicated they did not cross anyone. He then stared at me. He knew about my abilities, yet the way the man walked from the spirit realm and now seems more like a loop.
I covered my face, "I must be exhausted to be seeing things."
Jorah nodded; he entwined our fingers before leading the way back to our chambers. Sleep is definitely needed. I need a clear head before facing the Small Council.
I was thankful to have a husband like Jorah. Someone who I can talk to and go over what I am thinking and feeling. If I didn't have him, I would still have the dragon's wrath. Missandei, I could possibly talk to her about many things. Yet Jorah, he has been there since the beginning. And I am thankful to have him.
.o0o.
Once more, I've woken up early. No matter how much I try to sleep, it feels like my mind is swirling out of control. A tempest that can't be tamed. So many thoughts about my behavior, the siege, and the possible regret in my actions. How I was close to burning the Red Keep. As much as the city would be saved, the refugees tricked to stay in the Red Keep would be killed. The thought of having those dark ideas made me sick.
It was still the early hours as Jorah slept. I watched him sleep, thinking about his words and how much faith he has in me. How he believes I can be respected and feared, but also loved. Deep down, I don't want to be feared. Then again, the Masters feared me because of the dragons. The Dragons were the advantage… without them, I don't think anyone of us would be here.
I remembered the conversation we had before the siege of Meereen. Talking about the possibility of our lives if the Dragons weren't born. How we would be living in a Free City. He didn't care what path we took, only to stand by my side. Right now, I wish the life the Warlocks created could be real. Living in Braavos, owning a business in the trade of fabrics, a home, and a son. A simple life.
A son, I thought.
Thinking about a son had me question something. I paused, thinking about the last time I bled. I've been taking the Lys Elixir as a precaution along with my difficulty to conceive. When taking the potion, my moonblood has become lighter and shorter. On occasions, there is a side effect of missing a cycle, especially from severe stress. During my first campaign in Slaver's Bay, I didn't bleed for two months due to stress and lack of nutrition when traveling. However, ever since our wedding… my last moonblood was very light, and since traveling south until now, I haven't bled.
No, I can't think of the possibility of being pregnant.
However, it can explain why I have been feeling sick and vomiting. Yet when I'm severely stressed, I dry heave. I tried to think about other symptoms I had when I was pregnant with Viserys's child. Other than the missed moonblood. I dealt with morning sickness, fatigue, tender breasts, frequent use of the chamber pot, and extreme hunger with cravings. If not, the drastic mood swings.
I touched my breast to see if they were tender. They didn't feel tender. My appetite is not the same, since I don't feel hungry or crave anything. There has been some fatigue, but that could be due to the stress. And I have also been having a lot of headaches. But the extreme emotions I've put for mourning and grief.
There is another symptom to confirm a pregnancy. Quietly, I climbed out of bed and headed to the bathing chamber. There was a mirror. I stripped out of my chemise and stared at my stomach. My stomach appears flat. With Viserys's child, I bloated up fast. Therefore, I declared that I was not pregnant. I can't be pregnant.
Taking a deep breath, I put on my chemise. Needing some fresh air, I put on my robes, cloak, and shoes before leaving the room. Jorah deserves some rest. After everything he has done for me, he needs to sleep. Sighing, I walked along the corridors heading towards Aegon's garden. On the way, I asked two Unsullied Soldiers to accompany me. Knowing Jorah will not be pleased if I roam around unattended while a war is happening.
The sky was grey and overcast—no doubt, a chance of rain. The scent of pine and wild roses relaxed my senses as I continued to walk. Meanwhile seeing the towering thorn hedges and cranberries, along with the statues of dragons, basilisks, cockatrice, griffins, hellhounds, manticores, wyverns, and other creatures that were once alive or fantasy. I felt some peace in the garden, despite the melancholy atmosphere.
In front of a statue of a wyvern was the Shadowbinder Quaithe. I haven't talked to her much since leaving Winterfell. She wasn't very social and has been volunteering her services in tending to the injured. Curious about why she is up, I walked over to her. She turned around, wearing the metallic mask. Not once have I've seen her face, other than her brown eyes.
"Your Grace," She greeted, bowing her head.
"Good morning, Quaithe," I greeted in return.
She returns her attention to the statue. Wyverns are kin to the dragons. They almost held the same appearance, yet they have a cruel beak and are smaller in size. Most importantly, what makes them different from dragons is that they don't breathe fire. They live in Sothoryos, one of the continents past the Summer Sea.
"Have you ever seen a wyvern?" Quaithe asked.
"No, only in illustrations," I answered. "The farthest east I've been to has been Qarth, and South was Bay of Dragons. I heard there are different types of species."
"There are," Quaithe agreed.
We were silent for a moment.
It was quite hard talking to Quaithe. She was an enigma. All I knew about her is that she is a Shadowbinder from Asshai near the Shadowlands. From what Jorah told me about her, she is clairvoyant, able to see the present and the future. During the Battle of Winterfell, she manipulated her shadow to fight off the wights and used her magic to heal me. Including when she used magic to join Jorah's mind to my sleep-like death. This woman is powerful, probably more powerful than Melisandre.
I started to walk, which Quaithe followed. Again, we did not speak, walking in silence. Time seemed to pass when I saw the apparition again—the man in the black chainmail and red cloak. I stopped, wondering if the others could see him. His form is still transparent, yet his face is difficult to see. Visenya mentioned memories. How locations can hold memories, but I thought it only happened in the spirit realm.
"You see him," Quaithe murmured.
My eyes widen, "You can see him too?"
Quaithe nodded, "He wants you to follow him."
I was confused, watching the apparition taking the trail that led to Windwyrm. My curiosity got the better of me, as we headed over to the tower. Windwyrm was shaped like a dragon that screams in defiance. I've never entered here since the doors were sealed off. Yet the apparition easily walked through one door. I wonder why this tower was sealed off. Examining the plaster and stone, it has been sealed off probably for centuries. We continued to walk around, trying to find another entrance. It brought memories back to the House of the Undying.
We were at the dragon's belly when I noticed the dragon door knocker holding a ring, the knocker was crooked. I took hold of it, seeing if I can fix it. I grabbed the ring, trying to pull it down to be straight, except it wouldn't go down. When I push it up, it moves with ease?
"An annulus," I whispered, moving it a quarter turn.
There was a rumble and a hiss. I was about to step back when the floor and door turned. One moment I was outside the next I was inside in the tower. And this time, I was alone. Quaithe, nor the guards came inside. I could hear pounding on the door.
"My Queen, are you in there," one of the guards asked.
"I'm fine," I called out, trying to move the door knocker to see if I can activate the mechanism again to open. Sadly, it didn't. The age and rot must have compromised the door, and the one-time use broke it. "Find some men and get a hammer."
"Yes, my queen,"the second guard answered, before running off.
I sighed because I hate the darkness. I was not afraid of the darkness, but what could be hiding inside it, thanks to the undying ones. There are times I wish dragon magic can do more than connect with the dragons. No doubt, there will be a conversation from Jorah about the dangers of curiosity. Wait until he hears about the secret tunnels that lie within the Red Keep.
Suddenly there was light from the corner of my eye. I turned around to see a trail of crystals embedded in the walls illuminated. The stones gave a soft glow making it able to see along the spiral staircase. Curious, I follow the stones up the steps. Thankfully, the stairs were made out of stone and not wood. What secrets does Windwrym hold, and why does the spirit want me to follow him? I opened some doors, yet I was met with dark voids.
I soon reached the top where there was some light from the dragon towers head from the eyes/windows. Along the walls were mirrors with statues of three dragons all made out of gems and stone. There was a bronze statue with citrine eyes. The second was an onyx statue with topaz eyes. Meanwhile, the largest statue was made out of obsidian with rubies for eyes. All around us were smaller figurines made of gems, gold, bronze, and silver. Yet the three dragons were bigger. I came over to a dragon statue that could be made out of obsidian with ruby eyes.
"Baeleron the dread," I murmured, tracing the snout.
However, I forgot how obsidian can be sharp. A sharp edge nicked my finger, drawing blood. The ruby eyes glowed, creating a stream of light that connected to the other two statues. A shudder went down my spine, sensing magic.
"Indeed," murmured a tenor voice.
I turned around to see the apparition. This time his appearance was more define. He had the Valyrian traits being incredibly handsome, with a slight beard. His eyes were purple, one can compare the shade to amethyst. He stood taller and towered over me. I do not recognize this man, he was not Rhaegar, and I doubt he is my father. Nor was he any of the spirits from the Veil. So, who is this Targaryen that I can see in this realm of the living?
"Who are you?" I asked.
He smirked, "You don't know who I am?"
"After three hundred years, what do you think?" I countered.
He snorted as he looked at me, "You definitely have Visenya's spirit even though you are from Rhaenys's bloodline."
"Aegon?" I guessed.
The spirit nodded.
"I don't understand, how can I talk to you in the land of the living?" I asked again.
"Some spirits who die in Dragonstone remain," he answered. "And I show myself to those worthy for my throne."
"I guess you are disappointed that your two remaining heirs are not what they seem," I said.
"As much as I rather a son to rule, I will have to wait on the next generation. In the end, two Targaryens are going to rule Westeros, one in the North and one in the South." He explained.
This caught me by surprise.
For we live in a masculine society where men come before women. He would rather have Jon sitting on the Iron Throne and not I. Someone more stable-minded than I am, especially after everything that has happened in the last two weeks.
"Why am I here?" I asked.
"This room contains what remains of Valyrian magic. The Magic of the Dragonlords of Old Valyria that allows us to speak. I've watched you in the shadows and have seen the skills you have in leadership. Now you are in a situation, and only here can we speak for the first and last time." He explained as he walked within the three dragon statues.
"I would appreciate any advice," I said, relieved. "I feel lost. Not sure what to do, how to reclaim your legacy."
Aegon sighed as he came over, placing a hand on my shoulder, "I will tell you this. History has its eyes on you."
I was confused by his words.
"Let me tell you what I wish I'd known… when I was young and dreamed of glory. You have no control in who lives, who dies, and who tells your story," he explained.
As he said this, people appeared in the mirrors. Visenya, Rhaenys, and Orys Baratheon were the first to appear. He is followed by his two sons, Maegor and Aenys Targaryen. All wielding their weapons and wearing armor. Meanwhile, Aenys wore his noble robes while holding a golden jeweled chalice.
"History has its eyes on you," they all said in unison.
I looked down ashamed, for I haven't thought about how my actions could leave a mark in history. Just as Jorah said, I could be a respected and feared queen, who can be loved. Yet if I took the violent path, then I would have been seen as a terrible ruler.
"I know you can win, Alysanne." Aegon murmured. "I know that greatness lies in you. But remember from here on in, history has its eyes on you."
I nodded, placing my hand over his, feeling solid and not mist.
"How can I defeat Cersei when she is not afraid to risk the lives of the innocent?" I asked.
"Simple, you go for her army and navy. When the people see how an army can be destroyed in fire and blood, they will go against her. Before you strike, send messengers into the city. Give them a warning ensuring they are far away from the city walls. Strike at dawn, and soon they will ring the bell." He advised.
"The bell has never been rung for surrender," I recalled.
"It will for the first time," he said.
I nodded again, taking his words in, "There is no escape from violence."
"Violence is part of human nature," he murmured. "It is how you use it."
Suddenly there was a loud banging. The Unsullied were here to tear down the door.
"There is one more thing I need to tell you," Aegon added, knowing our time is running out.
"What is it?" I asked.
"I'm giving you a spell that will give you temporary control over two dragons. You will need Drogon in the siege, and with the loss of his rider, he is slowly becoming wild," he said and leaned into my ear, whispering the words. Three times he said the words. When he pulled back, he said, "Repeat them."
I said the words three times as the banging continued. Aegon nodded in confirmation as he pulled away and stared at my torso, "A new dynasty will restore our family name. Starting with you and your son. When he is born, give him my sword."
"What?" I gasped, placing a hand on my belly.
"He will not stop you from fighting. As long as you remain on your dragon," Aegon murmured.
I was lost for words.
When there was a loud bang, with rubble sounds.
"Alysanne!" Jorah called out.
I glanced at the top of the steps, "I'm here!"
I then turned to face Aegon, who placed a finger against his lip then murmured, "Farewell, Queen Alysanne Targaryen. First of her name."
Before I could speak, the sound of running rushed up the steps distracted me. When I faced Aegon again, he was gone. Jorah and two of the Unsullied came in to find me standing in the center of the dragons' statues. My husband sighed in relief as he rushed over and hugged me. I hugged him back.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
I glanced at the mirror wall seeing Aegon standing there with Rhaenys. My ancestral grandmother gave a reassuring smile while Aegon stood proud. Aegon wrapped his arm around her before they walked away back to the spirit realm. I pulled back from Jorah and stared into his blue eyes.
"I'm fine," I answered. "Better than I have been in a long time."
Jorah stared into my eyes, trying to decipher what I meant. Whatever he saw showed that the dragon's wrath was no longer there. No longer will I let anger consume me. I now know that history has its eyes on me. I will not become the Mad Queen.
Inspiration from the musical Hamilton, the song called 'History has its eyes on you."
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