Sister's Keeper

Edited by DesertMortician

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones

Chapter 102: Before the Battle

Alysanne's POV

I sat there as I watched Jorah sharpen Dark Sister, preparing for the upcoming siege in a few days. Tomorrow, Jorah and members of the War Council will be heading out to join the camps outside of King's Landing. A date was set, and when the time comes, Jon and I will ride the dragons. How we come so far to this very moment. This day was mentioned for many years, and here I am about to reclaim my family home and bring justice to those who wronged us.

Although it was bittersweet. Since Daenerys was supposed to be by my side. Now it will be Jorah and Jon. It saddens me that Daenerys won't be here physically, yet I know she is with me spiritually. Along with my child growing inside my womb.

So much as happened over the years since Pentos. A life no longer on the run, but an adventure of self-discovery. I've met many people, seen different parts of the world. I fought to survive, getting injured along the way. Reunited with old friends and gain new ones. I ran a province, abolishing slavery, and started a new government for the people. I've become a dragon rider, a conquer, a queen, and now a wife. And soon to be a mother.

Can I be a Queen in the Six Kingdoms? I have ruled Slavers Bay, which is far brutal than the Westeros. Six Kingdoms and the Crownlands. So far, meeting Lady Olenna and Ser Garlan and how they describe the current Warden Willas Tyrell, I knew the Reach are in good hands. Ser Gareth Wensington has proved himself that he and his family can maintain the Stormlands. Prince Quentyn being the representative for his father Prince Doran has shown they are still in control of their word and commitment to Dorne. The Vale of Arryn is still under the tribunal guidance until Robyn Arryn comes of age. Which I would need to keep an eye on him. And lastly, Lord Edmure Tully, who has regained control as Warden of the Riverlands, after Grey Worm and the Unsullied took the Twins from the remaining Freys.

So those two Kingdoms need to keep an eye out. But my primary concern is the Westerlands. Not sure where Tyrion or Ser Jaime's loyalties lie. It is still baffling that Ser Jaime asked for his sister to live long enough to birth her child, then execute her. Tyrion wants her dead, yet after the Dragon Pit, his revenge craves change, and knowing why bothered me. The fact he held this information for almost half a year says something. Along with trust being broken. Tyron accepted of losing his position as Hand of the Queen…but do I send him away back to the Westerland or keep him close to have a closer eye on him.

Either way, the end was near.

I got up and walked over, wrapping my arms around Jorah while burying my face into his neck. Breathing in his scent of leather, herbs, and musk. Jorah stopped sharpening Dark Sister and rested a hand over crossed arms that were around his shoulder. I placed a kiss on his neck, along the scar he had from Qotho.

"Please be careful," I murmured.

"I cannot promise," he replied back. "But I will do my best."

I nodded, "I love you."

He turned his head to look at me, "I love you too. I promise to reclaim your home."

"The Red Keep is no longer my home. You are." I corrected it.

Jorah smiled softly as he leaned up and gave me a kiss. I kissed him back, expressing my love. Our bond is unique despite our differences. He was a Bear from the North, and I was a Dragon from the South. We were ice and fire, swirling around becoming one.

Not wanting this to end, I adjusted myself onto his lap and continue to kiss him. My fingers combing through his hair while his hands secured me around the waist. This may be our only night together. I know I should let him rest for the long journey, but I was selfish. He seemed to notice that. As he broke the kiss and trailed his lips along my neck, kissing the spot that stirred my senses. I sighed, closing my eyes, savoring his touch. Meanwhile, his hands roamed along my body feeling its way.

After a while, we moved to the bed. This time I was in charge of pleasuring him. I wanted to show him how much I truly loved him. It will be days before we see each other again. Our clothes came off, as I spoiled him by performing oral on him. His hand was tangled in my hair. Once he came, I sat up and straddle him. His eyes watched me, panting until his eyes linger on my stomach. Distracting him, I leaned down, kissing him. For I have to keep him distracted from asking the question. For if he asked, I don't think I can hold the secret anymore. So, I rode him, letting him enjoy this night.

I continued until near exhaustion until Jorah took control. In the end, we were both tired and curled up to one another till sleep claimed us.

.o0o.

Jorah's POV

Jorah woke before the sun had cracked the sky. The candles were near the holders, indicating the time. He glanced down, staring at his wife, who was curled up to him. The blankets and furs covering their bodies, as the air held the winter chill. He secured his arm around her, bringing Alysanne close and kissed the top of her head.

He noticed a great deal of change in her since Daenerys's death. The moment word came of the funeral, she was fading away to a near skeleton. And now, meat has returned to her bones. However, last night he noticed a more significant change, as he felt her stomach. One he has seen many times with his first wife. It was subtle, not massive, yet the question still lingers if Alysanne was pregnant.

A part of him wanted to ask her. He tried to think of many excuses to ask, for example, when she last bleed. In fact, he hasn't recalled any staining of the sheets. Yes, at the beginning of their intimate relationship, they did not share a bed during her moonblood. However, the moment he returned to Dragonstone; he did not mind since it was natural.

Along with her taking the Lys Elixir. Those tonics are supposed to prevent pregnancy. Could she have drunk a lousy batch the last few months or have forgotten to take it? He doubts Alysanne would want to get pregnant right away since she stated many times she wanted to wait until they claim King's Landing.

Or perhaps Alysanne has finally started eating more to adapt. Jorah wasn't sure, and the last thing he wanted to do is ask, and accidentally call her fat. He accidentally said that to Gillian when he was an adolescent, resulting in him almost getting struck by an ax. And Alysanne knowing how to use a sword and dagger will probably be more lethal.

Still, the thought of a child brought joy and yet a concern. As much as he wanted a child, he didn't want Alysanne to be in the siege. Especially in what happened to Daenerys. With the Iron Fleet having the new version of ballistas they could shoot Alysanne down, and her fate could be the same as Rhaenys Targaryens. In the end, he can't stop her. So, he prays what he is feeling now is not what he thinks it is despite the warm thought of a son or daughter.

Alysanne stirred in his arms, which he stopped rubbing her stomach. Instead, he pulled her closer, kissing the top of her head and rubbed her side to wake her. She sighed, wrapping an arm around his bringing him closer.

"Must we wake," she mumbled, burying her face into his chest.

"I must," he murmured, trying not to chuckle.

Alysanne sighed as she sat up and looked out the window seeing the sun was not up, "How are you awake?"

"Life as a sellsword and Bear Island," he explained as he sat up, giving her a kiss.

She sighed against his lips, kissing him back. They were both satisfied that there was no need for intimate sex. Not like last time of the Long Night or the expedition. For they will see each other soon. Then again, Jorah knew his wife will live longer than him. Not because of age, but because she came across death twice. And from what Quaithe told him.

He broke from the kiss and peck her forehead before getting out of bed. He needed to get ready and dressed. For when daybreak comes, he and others will be heading off for battle. It will be two days' time, and Jorah needs to get to the camps early to tell the other generals from the War Council. As much as he would love to lay and bed and hold his wife.

He went over to a stand where a basin of water and a rag was at. He splashed the cold water onto his face, finally waking up. Taking a fresh rag, he turned around to see Alysanne climbing out of bed and pulling on a robe. He awed at her beauty, still amazed this woman was his wife. A man in his late forties most would say he is a lucky bastard. How he managed to get a true woman like Alysanne will be a mystery.

Anyway, he grabbed his trousers, putting them on along with the rest of his clothing. Alysanne came over, helping him tie the strings to his shirt before fixing the clasps to the gambeson. She stared at him with mixed emotions, for he knew she worried about him. Jorah was going against his own men. Men he fought beside with during the beginning of his exile. Unlike the Second Sons, the Golden Company is more trained, almost comparable to knights. Then again, they were descended from knights.

She pulled out her mother's necklace and closed the clasped around his neck. It has become a tradition, as Alysanne gives him the pearl pendant. A promise to return the pendant alive. It has worked since the expedition, and the Battle of Winterfell, so it should work once more.

He took a deep breath cradling her cheek.

Alysanne leaned into his touch as he said, "It will be all right."

"I know, I just hate that we have to be apart," she confessed.

"I know," he agreed. "But, I rather you fight on Viserion than on the ground."

Jorah knows Alysanne can fight well with a sword. But she barely has five years of training. Not half her life or as a child. Especially with the Golden Company. However, he would rather have her stay in Dragonstone in case what he is expecting of her condition. Then again, she was a dragon, not one to step down from a fight when the dragons can fly. In the beginning, Viserion was too small to ride, and now he is strong to protect his rider. One Jorah is pleased by.

"Promise me something," he started.

Alysanne looked at him.

"If Viserion gets struck, you get out of there," he said. "I cannot see you fall to your death again."

"I promise," she said.

Jorah nodded and kissed the top of her head. Despite knowing her true fate, he cannot say it in fear fate will cancel it. Alysanne leaned up and kissed him on the lips. Her lips were poison to him, an addiction he could never get enough of. A moment later, he pulled back.

"You should get ready," he breathed.

"Must I?" she pouted.

"Unless you want to show more men yourself naked," he teased, knowing how modest she is when outside the bed chambers.

Alysanne sighed as she went to the bathing chamber to freshen up. Jorah smiled, holding back a chuckle, knowing how he didn't like sharing his wife's nudity. Despite her wardrobe in Meereen, where cleavage and back were shown, she ensured she was modest, unlike Daenerys fashion.

It would be an hour when the sun finally appeared, and Missandei arrived to help Alysanne dressed. He excused himself from giving them privacy and checking on travel arrangements.

When the time came, Alysanne gave her speech to the Unsullied and others for the upcoming battle. Giving the prayers to the Lady of Spears and the Faith of the Seven. Jorah stood by his wife as she gave her speech before giving her praise to the War Council. All were going, leaving Alysanne, Missandei, Jon, Varys, and a hundred men for protection. For when Jon and Alysanne leave Dragonstone, the rest will sail over.

Jorah would rather have Tyrion and Ser Jaime in his sight than left alone on Dragonstone. Not wanting another Kingslayer attack. Even if the two Lions no longer support their sister, the act of family can do things. Once Alysanne was done talking with the War Council, she came over to him again.

"You better be alive when I get there," she told him.

"I assure you, I will be there," he promised.

She nodded as she gave him a kiss. He kissed her back, savoring this moment. Although they have to make it quick since the War Council was waiting. After several moments he pulled back, taking her hands as he kissed both of them.

With nothing else to say, he headed for the docks where his ship was waiting. Every time he glanced over his shoulder; he could see Alysanne standing there watching him. It brought comfort to know she will wait for him until he is no longer in sight.

.o0o.

It would be dusk when the ships reached the camps—Jorah, along with Ser Davos, Tyrion, Ser Jaime, and Ser Gareth. The armies have been busy for those who came early. Camp all set up, and the horses being tended to. Once on shore, they were making way through the camp. They can see Dornish, Reach, Knights of the Vale, and Unsullied walking around.

"The rearguard should be here by daybreak," Ser Davos reported.

"She wants to attack the day after tomorrow," Tyrion announced.

"I need to see all the generals," Jorah said. "At daybreak at the earliest."

"Agreed," Ser Gareth said.

Ser Gareth turned his attention to his squire to send the message. The young man nodded, rushing out to deliver the message to the other squires. Tyrion, Ser Jaime, and Ser Davos continued walking to find their tents. Jorah glanced over at an Unsullied who nodded back, following the Lannisters at a distance.

"Seems you don't trust the Lannisters anymore," Ser Gareth said.

"Do I have a reason?" Jorah countered.

"With the Kingslayer, I don't hold it against you," Ser Gareth agreed, then glanced at the walls of the King's Landing from a distance. "Who would have thought we be here again."

"Last time I was here, the city had been sacked by Tywin Lannister," Jorah said. "You were

Robert Baratheon's squire."

"I was, and when I became a knight, he sends me back to the Stormlands to become a storm knight," Ser Gareth said. "Called me back eight years later to fight the Greyjoys."

"You fought Rodrick Greyjoy at the Seaguard," Jorah thought aloud, remembering the tale. "Men from storms who duel in a storm."

"I received a scar on my face, and Rodrick laid dead," Ser Gareth said. "Not like you chasing after Thoros of Myr and his flaming sword."

"It was a bitch of a siege at Pyke. Proudest moment of my life," Jorah remembered. "One knee in the dust, the king's sword on my shoulder, listening to the words. 'In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave.' All I could think of was how badly I had to piss."

Ser Gareth gave a laugh, "I'm sure Robert wouldn't mind a piss to wash off the blood."

"You knew him well, and look where you stand now," Jorah said.

Ser Gareth sighed, "I did not serve Robert because I believed he would be a better king. I served him because the Mad King had crossed the line when he killed Rickard Stark and his son. Many

had hope Rhaegar would step forward…yet he failed us. Now here I stand serving the Mad King's daughter, knowing she is a better ruler than Cersei. Ironic."

Jorah nodded.

"At least Elain is safe, now I need to secure my two sons' legacy," Ser Gareth said.

"Your sons?" Jorah asked.

"Robert and Stefan," Ser Gareth answered. "Hopefully, this is the last war I will be in."

Jorah nodded since both of them are of age in which their bodies are about to tell them to stop. He doubts he will have the same strength as Ser Barristan but will continue until he can no longer hold a sword. He made it this far through trials and tribulations, finding a purpose—a moral purpose not clouded by lust.

"Get some rest," Ser Gareth said. "We have one day to prepare."

Jorah nodded, watching the Storm Knight leaving. Once the Warden of the Stormlands was gone, Jorah went to find his tent. He will need all the rest he could get.

.o0o.

Alysanne's POV

Jon and I sat in the Chamber of the Painted Table. It was night, as the fire was lit, as we both had a glass of wine, well more like cider. Tomorrow will be the battle yet, neither of us could sleep. We simply sat there, contemplating what is to come. Both of us have killed before when it is necessary. However, what we are about to do to the Iron Fleet will redefine us. A far violent side. We know it has to be done.

Jon has been staring at the fire until he turned his attention towards me. Probably noticing I haven't drunk much of the cider.

"Scared?" Jon asked.

I sighed, "Yes."

Jon's dark eyes widen, not expecting it. "Worry about your husband?"

"Yes," I confirmed. "Every time we are parted for battle, I worry about him."

"Many lords think you are crazy to marry him," Jon tried to joke.

I snorted, "What can I say, I like older men."

Jon chuckled at that.

"Then again, I matured mentally more than most women," I added.

Jon nodded from that, "From what I've been told, I believe you."

I nodded, taking a sip of cider.

"I never got the chance to thank you for the journal about my…real father," he said softly.

"It is the least I could do," I replied. "Although I'M not a reliable source. At least not the past year."

"Why do you say that?" he asked.

I took a deep breath staring into the fire, "You and I have more things in common than we both think. I don't know if Daenerys told you, or maybe I have…but I was poisoned and died."

"I remember that talk," Jon confirmed. "You mentioned your soul went to the Veil, and you met our ancestors there."

I nodded, "Daenerys couldn't accept it. Until the High Priestess of Volantis came in offering her a deal."

Jon tensed slightly when hearing this.

"Kinvara had offered her service for her followers to spread the word of the Dragon Sister, believing I was part in 'The one who was promised' since the Master who witness I not being burned by dragon fire spread the word. She said she could bring me back, but there was a price to pay to the Lord of Light. A part of me taken."

"And what part was that?" Jon asked.

"Many knew I had a strong memory. I could remember things from my early childhood than most people. I used to remember my life in the Red Keep, the family I had. However…the Lord of Light took those memories." I answered. "I know moments, but I can't remember my family's faces or voices. I remember Rhaegar's face because I saw him in the Veil. I saw my father's face in a horrible vision. Yet my mother is a stone statue, and Elia, Rhaenys, and Aegon…they vanished like shadows. Their names are still there, but their voices and faces are gone. I can barely recall the lullabies my mother sang to me in Dragonstone…"

Jon sighed, "Your granduncle…Maester Aemon, he used to say these wise words to me. Kill the boy, and let the man be born. Not long after, my brothers stabbed me, and I died. When Melisandre brought me back…I felt like a piece of me was missing. The boy who saw greatness in the Night's Watch was gone."

"Do you remember anything from death?" I asked.

"When Melisandre asked me that, I told her I saw nothing," he answered. "The truth was…it was like a dream. A peaceful dream, and suddenly you are startled awake that you can't remember what you saw, and the void of darkness fills the dream. When I open my eyes, Ghost was there, and Ser Davos was rushing back in. I felt my blood boiling and skin frozen while my wounds burned."

"When I woke, everything was hot, finding myself naked on a bier, while Grey Worm stood there baffled, while Tyrion was on the ground like he saw a ghost. I felt hot, and the world was spinning. Fortunately, Tyrion grabbed a basin as I vomited the poison out. I swear too many people have seen me naked."

Jon tried not to laugh, but his lips twitched, "Never like the naked part in the Lord of Light ritual."

"And yet, this supposed merciful god has stolen a piece of us," I grumbled. "He killed the children in us in his supposed prophecy. The Prince and Princess, who was promised."

Jon nodded in agreement.

I took a deep breath, "Anyway, Ser Barristan filled in the blanks about Rhaegar. He still did not understand why he did some of the things he did…but like all Targaryens, we become blind for greatness and fear the unknown."

Jon nodded.

"Dragonstone used to be his home when he came of age. Maybe when there is time, we can find anything that belongs to him."

"I doubt it, Stannis and Robert probably destroyed anything that was his," he countered.

"You be surprised," I murmured, then sighed. "And look where we are, the last two Targaryens remaining. A wolf with dragons' blood, and a dragon married to a bear. Oh, how the Maesters and bards would sing about us."

"I think you have drunk enough cider," Jon chuckled, then sighed. "Although I don't think I want the world to know about my true identity. Just knowing I was never a bastard and who my parents are is enough closure. Westeros doesn't need to know about Aenar Targaryen."

"But you are going to tell your sisters," I concluded.

"They have the right to know, after everything they went through," he confirmed.

"After everything we all went through by our fathers' actions," I corrected. "You've became an orphan and raised as a bastard, while my siblings and I lived on the run. Then again, you were spared from all the assassination attempts and Viserys wrath."

"Was he that cruel?"

"He was…complicated. Spoiled by our father, and constantly promised he will be king. When Ser Willem Darry died, and we were kicked out from our home in Braavos…was the oil…and when I sold our mother's crown was the match that lit it. As he put it, 'woke the dragon' when punishing Dany and me. He might have seen you as a threat since by law, you are technically the rightful heir."

"The North is more than enough," he assured.

"But do you want to be king?" I asked.

Jon took a large sip of his drink, "Not really. I was chosen without being asked."

"That's the thing about true kings and queens, we are chosen without a choice," I said. "A leader is chosen not forced. Only time will tell."

Jon nodded before giving a yawned. Noticing it was getting late, I finished my drink before standing up and placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at me.

"Get some rest, tomorrow will be a long day," I informed him.

"You too," he said.

I leaned down and pecked the top of his head maternally before leaving.

.o0o.

In my sleep, the dreams brought me back to Visenya world. I stared at the armor Viserion will wear in the armory. Seeing how much work Durak made to protect the dragons. Along with the details of the Qothor magic of protection. As I turned, I could see my armor there waiting on a stand—all in position ready to be worn.

"The time has come," Visenya said as she came over to me clad in her armor.

She wore her black chainmail armor, with golden pauldrons etched in the Valyrian design, gorget with a dragon center of her neck, and bracers secured to her arms. Her hair braided at the sides, forming a loop while she wore her crown, a Valyrian steel band encrusted with rubies. She moved around, securing a leather breastplate.

"Are you going into battle?" I asked.

"In spirit," she murmured, magically putting on the armor in the proper place. She turned around, facing me. "Be strong, Alysanne."

As she placed her hand on my shoulder. There was a sudden weight as I found myself in armor. She took my right hand, fastening the strings to secure the bracer.

"The search for a ruler has been long and dangerous." She explained. "Some of us have had been fighting our nature for centuries, hoping the dragon in us will hatch. And fate finally carried it to you."

"Why me?" I asked. "I'm just an exiled princess."

"Because that is who Viserion chose," Visenya said, turning me around to face a mirror.

No longer did I see the scared little girl trying to survive. No longer did I see the abused wife who tried to please her husband. No longer did I see the Conqueror who abolished slavery. No, what I saw in my reflection was a dragon rider, a warrior queen. No longer did I see Rhaegar's reflection in the mirror when I put on the armor. This time I saw myself.

"I barely even recognized myself," I murmured.

"Nor will your enemies," Visenya said. "Tomorrow will be the last time you will be called the Dragoness of the West. For the following day, you will be the Queen of the Southern Kingdoms. Queen Alysanne Jaehaera Mormont-Targaryen First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, and Rhoynar. Lady of the Six Kingdoms. Protector of the Realm."

I continued to stare at my reflection, taking her words.

Later on, I walked along the shores of Dragonstone in armor. My thoughts lingering in what Visenya said. I am committed to this, but a part of me still doubted myself. For all the people I have lost and wonder if I can do this. The sound of flapping could be heard as I looked up to see Viserion spirit in this realm. He landed across from me as he stared down at me.

"I need to know Viserion, why me?" I asked.

Viserion sighed as I could sense the magic the first time, I heard him speak. He spoke again, his voice that of tenner and crisped with a slight echo.

"You choose a leader for their heart," he answered.

"But I'm not one without fear," I said.

"Without fear, there cannot be courage."He explained. "But when we are together, it is our enemies who should be afraid."

"And are we together, Viserion?" I asked him with a smile, drawing my sword. "As one?"

Viserion raised his head up to the sky and roars with fire.

"I take that as a yes," I confirmed, amazed.

Viserion gave a chuckle.

This time I know I am ready.

.o0o.

Missandei woke me up. The sun has not risen, and yet it was time to wake up to get ready. The first thing done was a morning routine before my hair was braided in two parts on each side of my head. Before I got dressed, I munched on some bread and cheese for substance. Missandei then helped me get dressed for the weather before putting on my armor.

At first, everything came on just fine. Although, once Missandei started securing the corset portion of the armor, it was snugged, that she had to loosen. No doubt, the child is beginning to make themselves known, just not big enough. Yet the armor corset being a tight git. Follow by the armor breastplate.

"Is it too tight?" Missandei asked.

"Loosen it a bit," I answered.

Missandei did so, making sure the armor was snug, but not tight. Once my armor was secured, I grabbed my harness putting it on, before making our way out. We headed to the field where the dragons were. Jon was already there dressed in his Northern armor, as his hair was pulled back. His harness was a bit loose. I came over and help him tighten it. The last thing we need is him falling off when Rhaegal makes a sharp turn.

"Thanks," Jon said.

I nodded, "Are you sure you want to do this. I understand if you want to step down now."

Jon shook his head, "You helped me save the North. It's the least I can do."

I nodded again, appreciate it. We turned to the dragons seeing Rhaegal and Viserion in armor. It was surprising to see how much Durak and his team made for the two dragons under a short period of time. The only one not secured was Drogon.

I walked over to the black dragon as his burgundy eyes stared at me. I took a deep breath, being careful of the wild dragon. Not sure how much awareness he had since Daenerys's death. He leaned down, stretching his neck out, that his head was level to me. I stretched my hand out, waiting for him to accept or reject. He moved slightly closer until my hand rested on his snout.

Staring into those wild eyes, seeing a small part of his name's sake in them, I said the spell Aegon told me. The ancient Valyrian sang through my lips like sweet wine, feeling the energy that was inside me go into Drogon, seeing those reptilian eyes dilated, as his magic enter into me. We can sense one another, the same I felt with Viserion, only it was not as strong as Viserion. Yet, I can feel the bond from Drogon, as his grasp tightens around my stomach.

"Let's avenge her," I said in Valyrian.

Drogon nodded.

I pulled back and made my way to Viserion. He leaned down to nuzzle into me, sensing the spell I used to connect Drogon with is. It was temporary. Enough for this battle. What will happen next is unsure. In the end, we want this war to be over.

When I stepped back, Missandei came over, offering me the helm. I thanked her, as I put it on, and secured the strap under my chin. I then looked at her.

"See you tomorrow then," I said.

"Be careful," Missandei replied. "No longer is just your life."

I nodded, giving her a hug, which she hugged back. Afterward, I climbed onto Viserion back as he adjusted himself to make the climb easier. Once I secured the harness, I turned to Jon, who was fastening his harness to Rhaegal. He looked back at me, giving a nodded.

I took a deep breath casting the ancient Valyrian words to be more connected with Viserion, "Sōvēs."

With that said, Viserion took off to the sky.

The next chapter will be the Battle of King's Landing. It may take a week or two because work and how much detail we have to cover since there will be more Points of View than ever. Thank you all so much for your support this past year.

There was some inspiration from Eragon.

Sōvēs means fly in Valyrian.

Thanks for reading, and please leave a review.