Elsewhere
Unknown Location
Scarlett floated in the void.
There was no way of knowing how long. Time seemed to stretch. It could have been a minute. It could have been a century. There was nothing, no light, but no darkness either. No ground. No sky. Nothing at all. Just… emptiness. She wasn’t falling through it, either… she was just there. She didn’t feel like she was falling away, so there was no air to fall through, no gravity to push on her. She just… floated in a vast sea of nothingness.
It wasn’t fair. She had tried so hard to spare Jorah from needing to kill the one he loved. He had given him a way out, a way he wouldn’t have to blame himself… a way he could have made his sacrificed and lived with it. But R’hllor required more.
No, that wasn’t fair. R’hllor required what he required. It was she who had wanted more… had wanted Jorah. She hadn’t needed to make him love her as much as she had loved him… had never thought of the consequences for doing so. She had died knowing that she had been right to put her faith in Jorah… but also knowing that now he was alone.
Light rose up from beneath her. Flickering light, dancing light. Fire. She knew it well… an old friend. A master.
She settled down amidst a blaze. Fire all around her, burning nothing, consuming everything… but the fire licked at her skin without burning, caressed her like a lover. “Why?” She asked, and only after she asked did she realize that she could speak. “Why did he have to suffer like that?”
Because power came from sacrifice.
Only something valuable is a true sacrifice.
Great power requires great Sacrifice.
“I know…” she whispered to the flames. “But he’s already sacrificed so much. Why must he sacrifice more? Wasn’t it enough?”
No cost to great.
No sacrifice too large.
“It’s not fair…”
Isn’t it?
The flames had swallowed her full, and she felt like she was burning… but without pain. It felt good. It felt good to be warm. They swallowed her whole… and went into her. She realized for the first time that she was naked… floating through the void, how else would she had been? She felt the heat travel into her pussy, into her ass, her mouth. Thrusting into her, the power and flame and heat spreading through her without consuming her, without burning…
Scarlett moaned, feeling the pleasure as a hot rod pushed her open, split her wide…
“Scarlett!”
Her eyes snapped open. She wasn’t in the void anymore, not in the flames… Jorah was above her, staring down at her. And she felt it. She was…
Alive.
She lunged up at him, kissing him, biting his lips… feeling his cock shift inside her as he did and treasuring the pleasure and the closeness and his warmth as he kissed her back, their tongue dancing. Alive… she was alive. How was that possible. How was it… She broke off the kiss, and looked around. The two of them weren’t alone in the room full of candles. Jon and Ygritte stood off to one side, both smiling widely. Jaime and Brienne stood on the other side of the room. Daario and Gendry rested against a third wall together. And on the fourth…
Davos stood holding Melisandre’s hair, holding her in place as they looked on Scarlett and Jorah. The woman was bruised, covered in welts and lash marks, and small cuts. She had needed to be convinced, obviously… but she must have brought her back. R’hllor had sent her back… sent her back to Jorah.
“I’m back…” she whispered.
“You are…” Jorah agreed, bending down to kiss her again.
“We knew it could be done, since, you know…” Ygritte said with a chuckle.
Scarlett laughed too. “R’hllor must be happy with me.”
“No reason he wouldn’t be,” Jaime said.
“It’s over, Scarlett,” Jon said. “It’s over. Jorah killed him… he killed the Night King.”
She looked up at Jorah and smiled, her eyes dazzling, glittering. “You did, my prince. You truly were the prince who was promised…” she sighed and leaned back on the bed. Then she smiled, looking around. “Thank you… all,” she whispered, looking at Melisandre. “Now… could you maybe let us finish?” She said grinning up at Jorah.
The room laughed.
With Cersei gone, and the vast majority of the ruling houses of Westeros decimated, there were few with the authority to take the Iron Throne. The Tyrrell family had lost every male heir, leaving only Olenna to manage the house as a bitter, dying old woman. The Lannisters had but a single male heir left, and he had renounced his title and heritage years ago and recently both. The Martell family had been killed by traitors within their own court, and House Greyjoy would be given the throne over the dead bodies of everyone in the realm. The only Baratheon left was a bastard, unrecognized. With support from the combined armies and a strong alliance of the Northern Lords, there was really only one choice. In the wake of Winter’s End, Jon Stark shortly ascended to the Iron Throne. He ruled with wisdom and kindness for fifty years, before dying towards the end of the longest summer on record. His Queen ruled beside him until her death just months before, and together they proceeded to bring the Wildlings into the kingdom. With no Starks left to inherit Winterfell, Bronn finally got his castle… as the new Warden of the North, he proved himself surprisingly loyal and steady, a better lord that most who came before him.
Davos became the Hand of a second King. He had three children before Melisandra was permitted to speak once again. By then, her submission to her Lord had become second nature. She worked as King Jon’s Master of Whispers for fifteen years before stepping down and leaving the role to her eldest son.
In a spectacular twist of irony, Daario took an Oath to become a Kingsguard. Having come to rely on the man’s competence in the war up north, Jon quickly made him the Lord commander of the Kingsguard, and he served in that position on the small council until his death, five years into the Reign of Benjen Stark. He died the last way that Daario Naharis would have ever expected, happy in his sleep.
Jaime, for his part, never entirely forgave himself for the role he had played in his children’s deaths by allow Cersei her free reign. He exiled himself to the Wall in penance, where he worked with Jon and Bronn to rebuild the Nights Watch, larger and grander than before as an honorary order of knights and scouts. Brienne served at his side, becoming the first woman to take the black. Occasionally, she still looked for signs of Arya, but she never found the missing Stark girl.
Gendry was offered positions on the Small Council, but he declined them all with glee. Jon legitimized him and granted him his father ancestral home of Storms End, where he proceed to marry Elinor Redwine and live out the rest of his days happily.
Three dragons are still seen in the skies above Essos, time to time, but no one has seen them for many years now. Few think they are gone, however. Some whisper that they have gone looking for the Mother of Dragons, to bring her back from where she is hiding in the moon, and they will return with brothers more plentiful than the sands of the desert.
And as for Jorah and Scarlett? They fade from history at this point. Shortly after meeting her in the final battle, Jorah ceded all claims on Bear Island to his niece Lyanna Mormont. Two months after Jon’s rise to the Iron Throne, they left through the Lion’s Gate on horseback, disappearing onto the King’s Road. The next month, the Maester’s of Oldtown received a package, carried by a courier… a crimson sword of Valyrian steel, and a ruby more scarlet than the blade. The note with it urged them to keep them safe, the shepherd them through the ages, and to see that the Night’s Watch got them back, when next there was need. That same day, someone saw a greying knight in battered armor and a woman with hair the color of blood board a ship on the Narrow Sea. Some say that ship was bound for Asshai, others say it was headed for Pentos. Still other, more fanciful souls, swear that it was the ship of explorers, bound for Sotheros and the Jade Sea. No one knows for certain… but no one had any doubt that wherever one was found, the other would be beside them.
End
John Drake's Stories 