To Die For You If Need Be Chapter 10: Cursed

This is a Game of Thrones fic. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

This chapter has been edited due to content. If you want to see the unedited version GO HERE.

Jorah Mormont

The flickering candlelight on my desk was just bright enough to write by. Tonight was the final night I would be staying at the Citadel. My greyscale had progressed to such a point I would either die by my sword they had returned to me, go live with the other Stone Men, or Sam would cure me. The chance of returning to my love was too much of a temptation for a man such as me.

I looked at the letter I was writing now. This one was in case Sam cured me and I returned to her. It was a letter full of hope for the future. I hadn't been able to keep track of her recent achievements. Hopefully that was because she was slowly inserting herself into Westeros. She might just be moving slowly so that she could keep her kind heart strong and any action would bring the Westerosi closer to her side. She would help them see that she was unlike any ruler that had sat on the Iron Throne for generations.

Before putting the letter off to the side I made sure there were no mistakes on it. I wanted to make sure that it would be fit for the eyes of one such as her. The letter made mention of our first meeting as well as giving thanks that she wanted me not just by her side but in her bed. I promised to be the king that she and Westeros deserved.

The second letter would be much harder to write. As I dipped my quill into the inkwell my mind tried to think of what Daenerys would need to hear if I died. She would need to know of my vast love for her and that I had done everything to return to her. That I had taken my own life to have my death be something I controlled. Or should I leave that last part out?

In this second letter I was trying to say all the things I would never get to say. I was trying to map out a lifetime that would never be lived. I was also trying to give her something that would keep her strong in the hardest moments of her life. Those would probably happen once she had claimed the Iron Throne and had to deal with politics. Dealing with that part of being a queen had been extremely difficult for Daenerys. But unlike what she had stated in Meereen, a queen was a politician. The most important politician in Westeros.

Once I had finished the second letter I glanced at my sword. If Sam failed in his cure then that was the option I would choose. It was better to die now than live as a Stone Man. Those beasts of men retained no humanity in them. Whoever they had been before had died long ago. The thought of being a thoughtless husk made me quiver more than pain. I didn't want to leave my love with the thought of me as such a creature either.

I turned as Sam knocked on the door and entered. Unlike the previous night, he looked more than nervous. I could see why as the cart he had with him contained a lot of things. I assumed they were all the things he would need for the cure. Including a few knives of varying lengths. Each one sharp and I stopped myself from shivering at the sight of them.

"You're writing to Daenerys?" Sam asked once he shut the door.

"One letter if you're successful and another if you're not." I replied and blew on the second letter to help it dry. "I don't want to be unprepared in case something goes wrong."

"Nothing will go wrong."

Sam quickly made final preparations. His hands seemed to be possessed by how fast and delicately he moved. Strange salves that had pungent odors seemed to not worry him at all as he mixed them. He leaned down at a few points to make sure that he had mixed things correctly. Tonight was not the time for mistakes. There would be no second chances after this.

"So they let you keep your sword." Sam said. "I'm glad that you won't have to suffer as a Stone Man if-"

"If you make a mistake." I finished so he didn't have to. "I will swing my own sword if that happens. I won't ask that of you."

"If I make a mistake it should be my burden to bear."

"Killing a man is no easy task. You'll already be suffering one loss. No need for you to have guilt for another."

"Thank you, Jorah."

I grimaced as he continued to make final preparations. If he cured me he might still become infected. The cost of curing me could be his life. It was a price he seemed more than willing to pay and I was too selfish to argue. What would his wife and child think of me if he became infected? Would there be anything I could do to change their minds?

"Did you say your farewells to your wife and child?" I asked.

"My son is too young to understand." Sam replied with a grimace as he finished preparations. "I told Gilly what I was doing. It took some time but she understood. She doesn't like what I'm doing tonight but she understands."

"How did you meet Gilly?"

"I was with Jeor when he went behind the Wall to meet with Castor. The man would sacrifice his sons to the White Walkers and **** his daughters. I rescued Gilly and her son."

"You risked your life for a wildling? I guess you're more compassionate of a man than I thought. Not everyone would do what you did."

"Gilly is worth everything."

Sam hardly had much strength to his voice but his defense of Gilly was more than powerful. I realized that my words had sounded like more of an insult than I meant them to. I had meant to compliment the man instead of insulting his wife. Though the thought of being with a wildling wasn't appealing to me, Gilly meant a lot to Sam.

"I am sorry, Sam." I said. "A woman who has caught your heart shouldn't be insulted by anyone."

Sam didn't say anything but he took out a bottle from his cart. He barely started to open the bottle when the thick scent leaked into the room. I was going to be skinned alive so whatever ale he had found would numb the pain. At least as well as any ale could. There was some pain that only the eldest of maesters would know how to numb. Or maybe even they couldn't help that kind of pain.

"I didn't think anything of a wildling until I met Gilly." Sam said slowly before sipping the ale. "She was different than what I was told about them. She was kind and doesn't like violence. I can't have her tutored in the Citadel, but she's learning what she can. If she had been born in Westeros then her life could be better."

"She would still be a commoner." I replied as Sam handed me the bottle. "And a woman. It would take her finding a good husband for her to achieve what you think she should."

"Daenerys didn't need a husband to do what she did in Essos."

"Maybe not, but Khal Drogo gave her the foundations of her reign. He granted her freedom from her brother as well as taking the fool's worthless life."

I drank the ale even though my body wanted to expel it. It took a good bit of concentration to make my body accept it. I didn't want this cure to hurt anymore than it had to. My body shivered and shook as I drank more.

"I know it tastes like ****." Sam said.

"The taste doesn't bother me." I lied. "I'd rather a bad taste in my mouth now than pain later."

I didn't say anything but the fact that he had drank some of the ale meant he was nervous. If he was good at hiding his emotions than I would say the fact he was drinking the ale broke his facade. I couldn't comfort him too much as in his mind that would be putting pressure on him. He must already feel like he had the fate of the world on his shoulders.

"Where did you find this crap?" I asked.

"From one of the novices." Sam replied. "I added a few things to it to try and numb your pain. The mixture shouldn't kill you. I promise I made sure."

"And it won't affect you?"

"The little sip I took? No."

After taking another swig of the ale I started to remove my clothes. It felt embarrassing doing so as I felt like a slave. I had to remind myself that after tonight I would be cured. I had to trust in Sam. From the side of my eyes I saw the young man look at me a little too closely. Was it because he was making final calculations? Or was it because of something else?

Why did I care? It wasn't like I wanted to sleep with a man and I would never desire someone who was already taken.

Once I was fully unclothed I put the chair from my desk in the center of the room. Sam gave me a fearful look before putting a bit of leather into my mouth. I bit down on it and relaxed my body as much as I could. No matter how well trained a man was, the anticipation of pain was a hard instinct to fight.

Sam looked at me and I nodded. This was not going to be easy for any of us. It would help the young man if I pretended to hardly be affected by the pain. I heard him pick up a knife and steeled myself for what came next. He sharpened the knife for a minute before starting to tear into me.

His disgusting ale worked and the pain was bearable. Instead of how painful him cutting my skin off should have been, it only felt like I kept falling off a running horse. The pain was still great but I had felt it before. Not in such a great amount, but there was a familiarity to it that made it nearly peaceful.

Sam's movements were focused. With each cut he seemed to grow more certain of himself. Hopefully the maesters didn't kick him out of the Citadel if they discovered this. If he was already this talented while still being a novice, after full training he would be nearly unstoppable. The Night's Watch would be more than blessed to have him.

"This cream will soothe your skin." Sam said once he had put down his knife and picked up a container of a strange smelling cream. "It will also make sure that the greyscale won't grow back and destroy any remaining bits of greyscale that may remain."

He started applying the cream with a small brush as well as his fingers when the brush wouldn't cover an area to his satisfaction. The moment he put the cream to my skin all of my pain went away. I even felt a new strength start to flow through me.

"After tonight I will do everything in my power to make sure Daenerys honors you as you deserve." I proclaimed.

Tears started to flow down my cheeks as I felt relief. My battle with greyscale was done and I had risen victorious. If not for Samwell Tarly I would've killed myself tonight. Every time I made love to Daenerys I would have to thank him. For if he hadn't shown me such mercy I would not be able to see my love ever again.

"****!" Sam said after he had finished applying the cream. "What the ****?"

I stood up quickly and looked at the young man. He hadn't sounded like his normal self when he yelled out and I could see why. I could see why the usually happy man was now torn apart. I understood why as he was now experiencing the fear I had been ever since attempting to bring Tyrion to Daenerys.

He dropped to the ground and managed not to grasp his infected hand. A hand that was now showing signs of greyscale quicker than I had. My greyscale had grown slowly so I had been able to hide my symptoms for awhile. No one had been able to tell I was infected until I chose to reveal that information.

Sam...Sam's hand was now quickly growing greyscale. There was no time to think of the best course of action. Not unless I wanted the man to turn into a Stone Man before my very eyes. That was not something he deserved. Not after he had risked everything to cure me.

I raced to my sword and picked it up with both hands. Praying to whatever deity was listening, I brought my sword down slightly below his wrist. He yelled out and I took my shirt to his wrist. Sam screamed louder as I used my shirt as a tourniquet. I tightened it until his blood stopped flowing so thickly.

"Sam, can you hear me?" I asked in barely a whisper.

"Don't tell me." He groaned.

"Tell you what? Tell you what, Sam?"

"I told you so."

I nearly let out a laugh. If he could tell a joke then maybe he wasn't lost. Maybe there was a way to save him. Anything less and the debt would haunt me until the end of time. It didn't look like the greyscale was growing on him any longer which was hopefully a good sign.

"Can you hold on a little longer, Sam?" I asked and quickly put on enough clothing to cover my lower half. "I don't know how long it'll take to find someone."

"Someone that's supposed to be in their room will attract attention." Sam groaned and fixed my hastily made tourniquet. "Even this late at night."

I wanted to pour out my heart to him in case these were our final moments together. I wanted to know that he still didn't regret curing me of greyscale. But there just wasn't time for that. There wasn't time to make sure this young man was properly reassured. If I took too much time then he could die and...and that guilt would eat me alive.

Without a backward glance I raced out of the room and it took a moment to get my bearings. It had been so long since I had seen my room from the outside. Where would a maester, or even a novice, most likely be at this hour? Most likely I would find someone near the entrance.

Where was the exit?

There! I raced with all my might. It had been good that exercising was my method of retaining my sense of self in the Citadel. If not then I wouldn't have the strength to race anywhere and Sam would be destined to die.

"Sir!" A novice yelled with a look of utter confusion on his face. "What the **** are you doing? Get back to your room!"

"Samwell Tarly is dying!" I yelled and he shivered. "He attempted to cure me and something went wrong. Unless you wish for a fellow novice to die, you should send help his way now."

That sent the novice running with me on his tail. We found a maester who sent for help for Sam while he made sure that I was cured. It was nerve-wracking to have to sit still while a friend might be dying. I tried to calm myself down by focusing on what the maester was doing with the limited tools he had with him in his room.

"Sam shouldn't have cured you." The old man spat. "I am familiar with this cure but everyone who has attempted it has become infected. Not usually the first time but soon after. Yet you allowed him to **** himself."

"Sam lied about the cure." I replied as he handed me a shirt. "I did guess that the cure was more potent than he let on, though."

"Why were you so important to him?"

"He served under my father. He couldn't allow me to die since I am the son of Jeor."

"You could have done more to dissuade him from killing himself."

"And that is a nightmare that will haunt me until the end of my days."

I was soon sent out to sit near the entrance of the Citadel. The entire time I worried that they would send me away without telling me if Sam survived. Sam was now in danger because I had been too eager to get a cure. I had been too eager to get back to Daenerys to truly care about the young man's fate.

"Ser Jorah Mormont?" A maester said as he walked up to me.

"Yes." I replied and stood up.

"Novice Samwell Tarly is not infected with greyscale. You cutting off his hand in a timely manner helped him to avoid that fate."

The maester's tone didn't sound like Sam had survived. The morning light also helped me to see his expression more clearly. While the maester wasn't allowing much emotion to show, he didn't seem happy at Sam's fate.

"He's dead, isn't he." I said after a moment. "I killed him."

"You did not kill him, he chose his own fate." The maester replied. "He isn't dead, just dying."

"Was it the blood loss?"

"No, it was an infection obtained while trying to cure you. Most likely due to a combination of being infected for a short time, the cream, and you cutting off his hand. We might only know how he became infected when we perform an autopsy. Something that Sam has agreed to."

"I assume that you want me to leave now, maester."

"Sam still wants to speak to you, though at the moment he is in too much pain to talk. You will stay in your room. A few novices have cleaned it up after last night's...incident."

I bowed and the maester lead me to my old room. As I followed him I didn't know what worried me more: if Sam died before he could speak or if I was able to talk with him one last time.