Actions

Work Header

The Dragon's Crown

Chapter Text

The story starts with the four princes and princesses of the realm. All of whom were loved and cherished by their parents since the day they were born.

The eldest son and heir is Daeron Targaryen. Valiant and a strong warrior like his father, King Jon, the Prince of Dragonstone has his father’s dark hair and dark eyes. Prince Daeron was conceived when his parents were preparing for the Great War of Dawn. It was rumoured to be on board a ship on the way to White Harbour but nobody could confirm it. It was said he kicked his mother’s womb hard when Queen Daenerys rode Drogon while battling Euron Greyjoy and the Iron fleet, the fierce black dragon felt it and rained even more fire on the enemy and that sparked the legend that the Crown Prince was already a brave warrior even before he was born. The prince was born in Winterfell during the coldest winter night. His father, the King never left the room when he was born choosing to be by the Queen’s side and the newborn babe. Daeron has a mischievous streak and a charming smile. The prince is well loved by the smallfolk and is popular with the people.


Prince Aemon Targaryen is a year younger than his brother the heir. He has the Targaryen gold silver hair and dark violet eyes. He chose a gold dragon as his personal coat of arms on his 15th Name Day. Unlike his amiable, easygoing and charismatic older brother, Aemon is serious and studious, preferring the solitude than being among crowds of people. Like his father he has a strong sense of honour and justice. Like his mother, he can be ruthless when dealing with his enemies. He is especially close to his youngest sister Rhaelle whom he adores and his brother, Daeron who is more like a twin to him. Prince Daeron had said that his brother Aemon would be his Hand when the time comes.


Princess Lyanna Targaryen, like her namesake has the dark hair and dark eyes of her father. Despite her strong Stark features, Lyanna inherited the infamous dragon temper of her mother. The princess has a wildness to her that cannot be tamed. She is headstrong and possessed a keen mind and a love for politics. As a child, she often spends time with the Hand Lord Tyrion, interested to know more about ruling. She is determined to rule along side her brother Daeron when he becomes King. Lyanna is rumored to be the King’s favourite child. She would sit on her father’s lap as a child, listening in while people come to meet the King with their various petitions and grievances and even voiced her own opinions.


The youngest, Princess Rhaelle Targaryen, nicknamed the Delicate Dragon, inherited her mother’s platinum hair and light violet eyes. She is known to be gentle and kind. The princess often visits the orphanage in Flea Bottom and gives alms to the poor. Soft spoken and sweet tempered, she is loved by all who knew her. Rhaelle also has a love for music and plays the harp beautifully. The Queen had an extremely difficult birth when Rhaelle was born, King Jon was overwrought with worry when the maesters told him, both mother and child could be in danger. Rhaelle was born ten years after the War of Dawn was won on the eve of Summer. Bells rang through out the capital when news that the Princess was born and both the Queen and the new baby were safe. A Grand Tourney was held months later after the Queen had ended her confinement and the new princess was presented to the public.


 

I’ll be a good king like my Father and I’ll make my Queen mother proud and all the Targaryens that come before them. The dragon’s blood runs deep in me. Aemon will be my Hand there’s no one I trust more than my own brother. He is of my blood and after me, he is my heir. Lord Tyrion says that I’m too lenient with those who slighted me. A future King must be strong and firm. He doesn’t know that Aemon is the one who will demand for whatever wrongs be made right. He keeps a list of courtiers and noblemen whom he doesn’t trusts and shares it with me. I smile graciously as I stand next to my brooding, serious younger brother during the royal banquet celebrating twenty years after the victory of the Great War for Dawn. We drink and toast and I smile but the both of us are observing the court, sizing our enemies and their intentions, knowing that if they dare make a wrong move, we’d weed them out. The Dragon always knows… - Daeron


Prince Aemon isn’t one to make friends easily, he broods too much. Everyone seems to love his brother more and he is fine with it. But he’s skilled with swords like the King was in his prime. You can’t tell a lie to him, the prince will know it. Like a wolf sniffing the lie off your skin. They say he’ll make a fine Hand when his brother is crowned King. He’ll sniff out the traitors and snakes and beheads them right away with his father’s mighty Valyrian steel sword. His brother won’t say a word against it for he trusts Aemon with his life and he trusts Aemon’s judgment. And all in the Seven Kingdoms know that Aemon is fiercely loyal to the Crown Prince.- from the personal journal of Grand Maester Samwell Tarly


My beloved sister wants to be Queen ever since she knew what the word meant. There is nothing Lyanna wanted more. She is clever and sharp and she’ll make a great Queen like Mother is. It’s a pity she is born a woman and a third child. She may end up marrying a Lord and be a Lady instead. But Lyanna never settles, it is not her way. “Too much of the wolf’s blood in her,” my dearest Mother would say. “You forget Mama, that I am a dragon too…” Lyanna would answer with a smile and kissed Her Grace’s cheek before greeting our Father, the King the same way. - Rhaelle


Sometimes when I fall asleep I have dreams of Winterfell and my father’s beloved white wolf. I can feel the snow beneath my feet and smell the trees in the godswood. I dream of the ancient weirwood tree that still stands beyond the Broken Wall. I touched its face and my eyes had gone all white and I hear a voice calling me. It sounds familiar. It’s my uncle Bran. He visits me in my dreams and speaks to me, he shows me things that had long passed. I saw Father being stabbed by men dressed in black leathers. I saw Mama coming out naked from a hut engulfed in flames in the East. I saw the Night King and his army of corpses.

“Don’t look at him Rhaelle…” Uncle Bran tells me. “Don’t look into his eyes.”

“But he’s dead…Father killed him. Mama too. They killed him.”

"Time is like a loop,” My uncle sighs. “No ending or beginning…”- Rhaelle

 

Chapter Text

Lyanna


I watch as Aemon trains with Longclaw, Father’s great Valyrian steel sword in the courtyard of Red Keep. The King doesn’t carry a sword with him anymore for he sits on a throne built by his ancestor, forged out of swords. Lord Tyrion told me once that Father never wanted to be King. But the Seven Kingdoms needed a leader after the Great War. Mama was heavily pregnant with Aemon then while Daeron was barely walking, still clinging to her bosom. I try to imagine my mother as the fearless, conquering Queen but it is hard. She has always been gentle, kind and loving. She has always been my Mama. Missandei said that she is a Great woman, the Breaker of Chains, Mother of Dragons. She protects people from monsters just like Father.


“Having children softens her,” Lord Tyrion tells me.

“It will never soften me,” I tell him most assuredly. He chuckles and shakes his head.

“Even my mad sister’s heart was softened by her children.”

The Mad Queen is now imprisoned in Dragonstone’s dungeon, in a deep pit near the sewers. I remember looking down at her through the iron grates during our twice a year stay in the castle. She would stare up at me, with her long stringy gray hair and dirty face, her cruel green eyes piercing right into my soul. Daeron nicknamed her the Witch of Dragonstone but Cersei Lannister has no supernatural powers of course. It used to frighten me when I was a child, having her stare at me as she screamed. I’d run straight into my mother’s arms but I never cry. Queens do not cry. Father would be all angry with my brothers for bringing me to the cell and they’d immediately apologize insisting that I was the one who begged them to bring me there. He would never be angry with me.


Rhaelle

I love my siblings dearly. They are always very protective of me, because I’m the youngest. They think me frail and delicate. They don’t tell me things, things that I should know being a princess of the realm. I hear them discussing in soft whispers in the drawing room while I play my harp for Mama’s ears. Daeron, Aemon and Lyanna. It’s always about politics with them. It’s a game played in court, the rival Houses circling around us, wanting to move their chess pieces and take down ours. Mama and Father are but figurehead sovereigns now basking in the glow of their triumphant victory two decades ago. Symbols of power but they don’t rule the realm, my siblings do. It was Father’s idea for my brothers to decide on certain relevant matters of state. Practice he says, he doesn’t want them to wait till he’s dead before they start wielding the King’s power. So far Aemon managed to quell a small uprising in Dorne and Daeron demolished the derelict houses in Flea Bottom and build better ones. My sister and I are tasked with overseeing a new school for girls in the Capital.


I don’t speak much maybe because I’m afraid that I’d let out secrets I’m not supposed to let out. I’m afraid that I’ll tell Daeron about his good friend Mark. Mark has designs on Lyanna. They aren’t very honourable. He wants to bed her. I hate that I know this but his thoughts are sometimes too loud and I can even see the lewd things he wants to do to my sister. I don’t want to tell Aemon that the Master of Coin has been siphoning gold dragons into his pocket every month. It’s not much compared to the millions of gold coins in the treasury. But if Aemon knows, he’ll execute the man and strip the titles and lands off his family and it is not fair that his children should pay for their father’s crime. It is a hard thing knowing the secrets and private thoughts of others. Uncle Bran says it’ll take practice. Soon I’ll learn to block them off just like he did and he will teach me how

.

Chapter Text

Rhaelle

I’m back in Winterfell again, standing in the godswood, watching as my father throw snowballs at his brother Robb. They were so young and happy and I can’t help but smile as I watch them play. Father was only a boy then, around eight years old. Uncle Bran is with me, he’s standing a few feet away. In my dreams, he can walk and stand like any able bodied man.


“Come Rhaelle…” He calls me and I nod, following him as he walks into the mist. I turn around one last time, wanting to see Father. He is laughing like a happy boy and I smile, seeing that and for a while it is as if my father is smiling back at me.


The scene changes. We are in Essos, it’s much warmer here, I can feel the sun’s heat on my skin. We are in a garden and there’s a lemon tree there and a young girl who looks so much like me is running around it in circles. She giggles softly and I smile. Mama…

She is so beautiful even as a child. Everyone says I look like her and now I see the resemblance. I stand next to Uncle Bran and watch as my mother plays by herself in the garden.

“She’s happy…” I remark.

“We were all happy once upon a time. Most children are happy…” He says in that sagely distant voice of his.

“Childhood is supposed to be a happy time.”

I grow quiet and give a sympathetic smile. I know my Uncle had a hard childhood, Aunt Sansa had told me about it. He lost the use of his legs and his parents and brothers were murdered.

"Have you always been able to see things?” I ask him. Uncle Bran nods. “It’s in our blood, seeing visions….your father used to have them. He sees what his Wolf sees in his dreams.”

“None of my siblings have it.” I say casually. I look up into the sky. The sun is shining so brightly that I had to glint.

“Maybe you have more wolf in you than any of them.” Uncle Bran says. I keep quiet and look at the little girl. She is looking right at me, her violet eyes grow wide. I am as surprised as she is.

“Can she see me?” I ask my uncle.

“She’s not supposed to…” He answers. He doesn’t sound too sure.

Young Daenerys Stormborn blinks her eyes and shakes her head. She probably thinks it is nothing. Her mind is playing tricks on her. She goes on playing by herself again, humming a Bravoosi folksong. She is still an innocent child unaware of her great destiny just like the boy with raven curls, playing in the snow with his brother in Winterfell.

 


 

We are in another room, I recognize it as the Queen’s chambers in Red Keep. Though my mother never sleeps away from Father in the King’s chambers. I see my mother lying on the bed, her legs propped up, exposed, her tummy swollen with child. She is too pale and sweating badly. I see Grand Maester Tarly and a few maidservants and the midwife. They all look worried and exhausted. Father is there and I have never seen him looking so afraid in all my life.

“We can’t save them both….” the Grand Maester says to the King.

“Your Grace you have to choose…”

“I can’t!” He almost screams. Tears are welling up in his eyes.

I have never seen my father cry before. Even in my visions of him and his past, he never sheds a single tear. He isn’t smiling or joyful by nature and he broods too much like Aemon does but this is the first time that I see him so vulnerable. He’s afraid to lose her. I don’t know why I do it but I take Father’s hand and squeeze it tightly. I wonder if he feels it too. Uncle Bran sees that and shakes his head. I’m not allowed to touch people and things when I visit the past but for the moment I don’t care.

“Jon…” Grand Maester Samwell calls him softly.

“Save them Sam…You’re the only one who can. I can’t lose my wife…”

My mother’s screams of agony pierced through the room and I look at her as if I can feel her immense pain as well. She is strong and brave and she will survive this. I hate that I am the cause of her pain.


“Why are we here?” I ask Uncle Bran, not caring to hide the anger in my voice.

“This is where you were born.” He says simply.

“I know Mama almost died…” My voice has gone all soft. It’s strange to be in the same room witnessing my mother’s labour with me still inside her.

“Your father King Jon prayed to the Old gods for both of your lives. The Old gods can only save one.” He tells me.

“But both of us are still here…” I say to Uncle Bran.

“Are you?” He asks me back and I am confused. “You live between realms Rhaelle, don’t you realise? Why do you think I’m always in your dreams?”

“Because you want to show me things, the past and present…” I answer. That is the reason right? I’ve been having these dreams since I was a little girl. Uncle Bran bringing me to witness all these moments in my parents’ history and even before that.

“This is all part of your training. You’ll take over me when I’m gone…” He says and gives a secretive smile.

“Training?”

“You’re going to be the three eyed raven.” He tells me and then he is gone before I can ask more. Disappearing into thin air again like he always does.

I am still in the room, a little shaken and utterly confused. I watch as my mother grow weaker and losing more blood. The midwife is trying hard to turn the baby. I see my father’s anguished face as he holds Mama’s hand tightly and then I know I have to forgive him even before he asks me for it. I forgive him for his thoughts. That he’d want my mother to live if he has to choose between us. Because I know I would choose the same.

Chapter Text

Rhaelle

I’m outside Winterfell this time, standing on the battlefield. It is night and dark but the flames Rhaegal and Drogon blow out illuminates everything. I see my father dressed in his plain leather armour, a thick fur cloak wrapping him. He rides on his horse and shards of dragon glass tipped arrows fly above him striking the dead from a far. Dothraki screamers riding in the background and the brave Unsullied infantrymen readying their dragonglass spears. This is the Great Battle for Dawn that Grand Maester Tarly had recorded in the history books.

The Night King stands there and I see his undead frost dragon screeching from above. The noise is so horrifying and deafening, I am shivering to the bone. Rhaegal comes flying towards Viserion. The Dragons battle each other and I watch in horror as Rhaegal falls to the ground. His neck burned by Viserion’s deadly blue flame. Drogon roars and I hear my mother’s scream. I know she is carrying my brother Daeron in her womb, barely three months at least. She has lost another dragon child of hers. And she will never recover from the loss.

The Night King turns around trying to command the storm clouds once again. I watch as his army of wights run, falling on the soldiers of men by the hundreds of thousands. I have to do something. And I have to be quick. Father is struggling but I know he is trying hard as he fights off the wights. I see the dragonglass tipped sword on the ground, underneath the pile of dead bodies.

How strange that amidst the chaos of battle among the living and the dead, I seem to glide easily in the mist and snow, still dressed in my silk nightdress I had worn to sleep. It’s like a dream. It is a dream, what else can it be? I know how the story ends. Father and Mama won the Great War. They didn’t lose or I won’t be here. I would not have been born if they had been defeated.

Father is dueling with the Night King now. While Drogon attacks Viserion, with my mother riding on his back. The Night King uses his ice spear and blocks father’s sword at every turn. He is a far superior warrior than my father, the King in the North. I can hear his thoughts. He is silently taunting my father.


No man can kill me don’t you know? You Northern Fool! No man living or dead can destroy me!

The Children of the Forest had made it so. They created him to defeat the First Men until he became a monster they could no longer control. Uncle Bran showed it to me before. No man can kill the Night King. He is invincible and almost omnipotent. He is the very definition of Death, enemy of all the living.

I remember my mother’s words, words she had spoken to Missandei in Astapor in what seems like ages ago. Valar Morghulis.

“All men must die…but we are not men.”

I don’t know who or what push me forward but I hold the dragonglass sword by its cold metal hilt. I see Father groaning, he is trying his best to defeat the Night King but it looks like he is losing and it makes me almost shut my eyes. I am afraid. I do not want my father to die. I do not want my parents to lose this war….

 

“Go on…”

It is my uncle Bran, I look at him unsure and he nods.

“You know what needs to be done.” He tells me.

I lunge forward and the dragonglass sword pierces the Night King’s torso. He turns around and stares at me. He sees me, he really sees me this time. His blue eyes look straight into mine and I immediately let go of the sword. Father then plunge Longclaw right into the Night King’s chest where his frozen heart should be. The Night King explodes into powdered snow and all the dead that follow him fall to the ground. My father breathes heavily and sighs. He has done what needs to be done and he has defeated the true enemy. He sees the dragonglass sword on the ground and for a while it puzzles him.

“Don’t you see?” Uncle Bran asks me. I only shrug still breathing deeply. I don’t believe what just happened. I helped Father. I had disarmed the Night King and allowed Father to kill him off.

“It is you…” He smiles that mysterious smile of his. “It was you, it has always been you…None of them could have defeated the Night King. No man living or dead.”

I am at a loss and stare at him.

“It is you all along Rhaelle…the prince… the princess that was promised who will bring the dawn.” He says.

It can’t be. I wasn’t alive then. Now? This is a dream…I am in a dream.

“I don’t understand.” I say to him.

“It is always meant to be this way. You are where you are always meant to be at, at the exact moment that you are needed, to do what you were always meant to do…It is a paradox of time,” Uncle Bran says and I only keep quiet. It sounds like a complicated riddle and my mind is too tired to figure it out.

I watch on as my mother gets off from Drogon and runs towards my father, tears flowing down her face. He envelopes her in his arms and kisses the top of her head firmly before raining kisses on her face and finally her lips. They are so much in love with each other, it warms my heart seeing it. The storm clouds seem to drift away and the sun starts peeking out. The day is breaking, it is dawn. It literally is dawn.


Prophecies are strange, dangerous things… I think to myself.

Chapter Text

Aemon

My brother’s seat is Dragonstone like the Targaryen Crown Princes that came before him but Daeron never liked the castle. It has always been too dark and grim for the likes of someone as charismatic as he is. I don’t mind it much. It’s much quieter than the Capital for sure and I appreciate the quiet. So here we are sitting in the War Room behind the Throne. It is here that Aegon the Conqueror planned his invasion and conquest of Westeros three centuries ago and it is in this room that my mother, Daenerys Stormborn planned to retake what was hers with Fire and Blood.


Daeron lazes on the chair, leaning easily like he always does, legs crossed, his feet resting on the Painted Table somewhere between the Neck and the Fingers. He looks at me and smiles that same smile that had hundreds of girls falling in love with him when he won the joust during the last Grand Tourney.

“You know you brood too much Brother…” He remarks with a chuckle.

I breathe and shake my head. Tell me something I don’t already know Brother

That is how different we are. I brood quietly while he smiles and talks to everyone. He is warm and friendly to courtiers and I stand still, observing people. Wondering what they want from my brother, the future king, Daeron the Third of his Name once he is crowned. I think about that a lot lately. When Father dies, things will not be the same. Daeron will sit on the throne and I will be his Hand as he has told me many times ever since we were boys. And we cannot be as we once were.


Kill the boy and let the man be born… Father always tells Daeron and I, reminding us of our duty and that we are children no longer. That we have to be the shields that guard the realm, that we have to protect the weak and do so honourably and nobly. It was drilled to us eversince we had learned to talk and walk. I heard the stories of what a Great man my father was during the War. He was fearless, valiant and he saved the realm. He saved everyone. Everyone knows him as the legendary King and the heroic warrior. But he is still my father. He taught me the sword and how to shoot arrows properly.

He brought Daeron and me hunting when we were boys and told us stories of what happened when he was in the Nights Watch while we were camped out in the forest. He taught my brother and I of the Old gods and the Old ways. He never considered himself a Dragon but he did accept his Targaryen heritage. And he told us how much he loves our mother. That she is brave, kind and gentle. He told us of how she flew her dragons beyond The Wall to save him and his men, risking everything dear to her, even the life of her beloved Viserion. He knew then that she meant too much to him. She wasn’t just an ally, a foreign invader or a Queen but His Queen.


“Was that when you knew that Mama loves you?” I asked him.


Father gave a small smile. “I had an inkling of it…”


“And when did you fall in love with her, Father?” Daeron asked.


“It was well before the rescue. We were in a cave where the dragonglass was mined. It was dark except for the torch and your mother was looking at the cave paintings I wanted to show her…I looked at her and thought I had never seen anything so beautiful in all my life…” My father sighed and shook his head.


“But there was no time for it. There was no time for anything. We were in the middle of a Great War…”

 


The Birth of a Prince

Rhaelle 

My mother smiles as she holds the baby close to her breast. He suckles hungrily and she bends to kiss his tiny forehead. She looks at him with all the love in her violet eyes but I see the sadness in them as well. She had to endure too much loss before she manages to feel happy again. And I know that at this moment, she is very happy. The happiest she has ever been. She has her precious son in her arms and a husband who loves and adores her and looks at her as if she hung the stars in the sky.


“He smiles a lot,” Father remarks. Mama looks up and smiles at him. The love she has for him shining in her eyes and my Father looks at her the same way. I’ve seen it a million times before.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people so in love with each other like my parents are. Even after more than twenty years together, they still embrace and kiss each other lovingly. They hold hands and take walks in the palace gardens during the evenings and watch the sunset at the terrace. Mama would wait for Father to be done with his Kingly duties before having supper together. Lyanna says it doesn’t always work that way. A royal marriage isn’t about love but stability. I guess my parents are lucky to have both.

“He is a happy prince. He will want for nothing and I’ll make sure of it.” The Dragon Queen says.

“Aye you will…” Father says as he moves closer in the bed. He touches the baby’s hand and Daeron grabs onto him.

There’s a hint of fierce determination in my mother’s soft voice and now I know why Daeron is her favourite child. Why my parents look at him differently than they do the rest of us. I know they love us all the same and they love us very much but Daeron was born soon after the Great War during the harshest winter’s night in Winterfell. A blizzard was pounding hard outside when he came out into the world.

Lord Tyrion said it was ironic that Daenerys Stormborn gave birth to her son and heir during the middle of a raging snowstorm. The gods were being cunts as usual… I think was what he said. I had to try not to giggle while my sister rolled her eyes when the Lord Hand said it. He was rather drunk during Daeron’s twentieth banquet.

Daeron became a symbol of a new future when he was born, a brighter, new beginning for our family and for the country. House Targaryen has been restored and having an heir meant that my parents can establish a dynasty that will last a thousand years. My mother and father poured all their hopes and dreams into him.

I hear a soft whine and look towards the door, Ghost had just walked in and I smile seeing the white direwolf. How I have missed him dearly. It has been a while since I have seen him. My father turns and calls Ghost to him.

“Come here Boy…I want you to meet the future King…”

Ghost moves towards the bed but he stops halfway. He then moves to where I was standing and nuzzles his nose on my leg. He can see me and I smile. He has always been able to see me whenever I visit the past. I bend down and scratched his head. I kneel on the floor and hug him close, loving the feel of his thick white fur. Ghost licks my face and I giggle slightly.

“What’s he doing Jon?” My mother asks as she looks on. She can’t see me but somehow knows that Ghost is interacting with someone or something…

“I don’t know…” Father shrugs, he finds it odd as well but he doesn’t question it further. “Come on Ghost. Here Boy….”

Ghost then turns and move to my father. The direwolf looks up at my mother and the baby she’s nursing.

“Daeron Eddard Targaryen…” Father says proudly and smiles. “My son.”

“Shouldn’t it be Stark?” My mother asks him. She sounds unsure. She looks at Father, and I know she doesn’t want the past strain between them to ever be repeated.

“But I am not a Stark.” He tells her. Mama sighs and move to kiss his lips and Father kisses her back. She pulls away reluctantly and looks at him.

“You don’t have to choose Jon. You are both. Targaryen and Stark,” She says and gently caresses his bearded cheek.

“I know…” He leans his forehead on hers.

“But I cannot deny the truth anymore Dany. I am the son of Rhaegar. I have to accept that.”

She nods and kisses him more. My mother looks down and realises that Daeron is already asleep, curled up at her breast.

“We make a beautiful child my King.” She says absently. Her fingers gently caressing Daeron’s dark fuzz of hair.

“We should have more children then my Queen.” Father says and she smiles at him. I smile when I hear that knowing what the future will hold for the both of them.

 

Chapter Text

Lyanna

My sister daydreams too much. Her thoughts are always so far away. She is beautiful, a delicate Targaryen beauty they say. While my raven hair and dark eyes follow my father's, Rhaelle's hair is pale blonde and her eyes are light violet like Mama’s. But she resembles more of Queen Rhaella, Lord Varys mentioned once before. Rhaelle speaks too softly and I used to think that she was a faerie princess when I was younger. She is much too beautiful to be human and sometimes even her behavior isn’t normal.

Rhaelle plays the harp beautifully and she embroiders and paints. The perfect, feminine princess. I am feminine as well, not one for the outdoors or sparring. But Father insisted that I must learn archery and know how to wield a sword. It was tiring and I used to complain about it when I was younger but Father pushed me still even though I was his favourite. Let it be said that no daughter of Jon Targaryen will end up being a wilting damsel in distress while she waits for some knight to rescue her.

I have a love for pretty dresses, jewelry, tiaras and ornate carriages. Like my Aunt Sansa used to when she was younger, Aunt Arya says but not anymore. It is not enough to be pretty or like pretty things. The world doesn’t work that way. To be Queen, one must be wise, strong, calculated and brave. I know my sister knows things. Even the Dothraki handmaidens who serve us tell me that. Rhaelle has been touched by the Unseen ones. It is known….

I never knew what they were talking about. Lord Tyrion says that the Dothraki are a superstitious lot. I never learned their language but Rhaelle does and she is good with languages, like she is good with everything else while I struggle even with High Valyrian despite the hours under Lady Missandei’s tutelage.

There are rumours that Rhaelle can see the future and I didn’t believe it at first but she always knew that it would rain even though the day had started off bright and sunny and that whenever a raven arrives, Rhaelle knows what news it brings before the seal is even broken.

 

My sister, Rhaelle looks at me and gives a smile and I wonder what it is. I had been too preoccupied with my embroidery that afternoon. We had broken fast together earlier in the day and after a walk of fresh air in the palace gardens, we decided to work on embroidering our mother’s new dress.

“What is it?” I ask her. Rhaelle smiles surreptitiously again and now I really want to know what secrets she has about me.

“Tell me…” I urge her. Rhaelle only keeps quiet and it annoys me when she does it.

I roll my eyes and decide that I will be better off in my own company. I go to the Throne Room and see that it is empty except for the palace guards. I walk past my mother’s chambers and she seems to be quite engrossed in conversation with some of her ladies in waiting.

I walk to Father’s solar and he is by his desk. He smiles as I approach and I smile back at him. He’s nearing five and forty and his hair has a few strands of gray but he still looks quite fetching, handsome even. I go up to him and bend to kiss his cheek.

“And how has your day been Sweetling?” He asks me.

“I’m doing an embroidery for Mama’s new dress.” I tell him as I sit on the chair.

“I’m sure it must be lovely…” He smiles. He thinks everything Rhaelle and I do is lovely. He is much tougher on my brothers and have high expectations of them.

“Dragons and flowers…” I sigh and Father looks at me.

“You don’t seem too pleased.” He remarks. My dearest father knows me and my moods too well.

“Rhaelle is keeping secrets again.” I tell him.

It may sound strange but my father, His Grace, Jon, First of his Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms is the one person in the world I can talk to about anything. Ever since I was a little girl. I would run to the Throne Room even while he was holding court. Not caring for proper protocol, I would jump and sit on his lap and whisper in his ear. Telling Father things I have just seen or heard. Things I wanted to share with him. And he would turn his attentions to me.

“She does that. Your sister means no harm Lyanna…” He says to me, the Northern timbre in his voice when he says my name always makes me smile. Mama loves it too. One of the many things she loves about him.

I see the thick pile of papers on his desk and I grow curious.

“What is this about Father?”

“Some documents Lord Tyrion wants me to put my seal on,” Father replies.

“It’s quite a lot.” I comment and Father nods.

“Aye. Many things for the King to read. Important matters of state…” He then looks at me closely and smiles.

“I want to show you something,” Father says and I listen as my eyes watch him closely.

“Usually, the ones at the bottom are the ones the Hand doesn’t want me to pay much attention to.” Father then takes the pile of papers and and flips it on the desk so that the bottom ones are on top instead.

“So I do this and read them first. It is important that I give every issue my undivided attention.”I smile at Father as he sorts through the papers. He gives a chuckle.

“Now why don’t you help me read and sort them and we can seal the papers together?” He suggests and I nod in agreement. This is far more interesting than embroidery or listening to handmaidens’ gossips.

“Your Mama used to help me with the seals and sorting the papers when I first sat on the Throne,” Father says.

“Then why did she stop?” I ask him as I scanned through some petition asking for reduced rent by farmers in the Riverlands.

"She was pregnant with you by then,” Father says with a smile and shakes his head.

“You were quite a difficult baby when she was carrying you. She got tired too easily and needed to rest in bed more.”

I snort softly when he says that and roll my eyes. Of course I would be more difficult than my brothers, I am a girl. We are more complicated by nature. I pour the wax on the document and stamp my father’s, the King’s royal seal on it. A circular emblem with the three headed dragon and his name on it. I wonder if one day I would have a royal seal like his too.

 

Chapter Text

Rhaelle

My parents are getting married this evening and it will be in the godswood of Winterfell in front of the Heart tree. My mother looks sad. She feels that Father is being too distant with her, that he doesn’t love her anymore or even wants to be with her. That it is all about making sure that the child she carries will be trueborn. A sham of a marriage yet politically it was palatable enough for the Northern Houses and their fickle lords to swallow. A marriage alliance means that my father will still be King in the North. He won’t have to officially bend the knee or give up his crown.

My mother is so far from the truth. She doesn’t know it yet but she is the Love of my father’s life. There is no other he will love more. That he will love her till his dying breath and even beyond that. Her wedding dress is black with a long red cape, the colours of her House. A thick sable black fur coat covers her. They couldn’t be married through the Old Ways being related by blood and that frustrates my father more. That the Old gods he had worshipped all his life would not bless this union. Lord Manderly had to bring a Septon from White Harbour to perform the ceremony.

The whole marriage ceremony seems so tenuous. None of them had worshipped the Seven and even the New gods frowned upon incest but then again they are Targaryens. Father was determined that his child would not be born a Bastard and he was willing to drag my mother to be married if she had refused. Which she initially did, being her stubborn Targaryen self till Lord Tyrion persuaded her otherwise. So their arms are finally linked and both hands bound by the sash as they say out their vows in front of the Septon. They sound almost unwilling as if it was a forced marriage instead of uniting two people who are in love with each other, which they truly are.

I watch as my mother walks away, quickly heading back to the main keep with Missandei next to her. She doesn’t want Father to see her tears. Lord Tyrion looks on sympathetically, wishing he can say or do something to comfort the Queen. He then looks at Father and shakes his head. Father has a frustrated look on his face and he stalks angrily away heading towards the crypts. Aunt Sansa and Aunt Arya look at each other, both of them speechless. Even I feel helpless in such a situation. Ghost comes up to me and I scratch his scruff. 

At least there’s you Boy…You would know what to do.

“You know this will only make their love stronger.”

I turn around and give Uncle Bran a small smile. He looks at me from his wheelchair, thick furs covering his shoulder. He can see me even here in the past.

“How have you been Rhaelle?” He asks me gently.

“I am well,” I reply. I sigh as I look at him. “I wish I could it make all better for Mama and Father. It is their wedding night.”

“It will all pass. Things always do in time. Good things, bad things, everything….They are never permanent.” He says. I nod in agreement. Uncle Bran speaks only the truth.


Rhaelle

“Bran.”

It is Aunt Arya, looking rather concerned as she walks to him. She probably heard him talking to someone, except there isn’t anyone around. Everyone has left the godswood except for the two of them.

“Who were you talking to?” She asks him.

“No one…” He replies in his nonchalant voice as he stares ahead.

Aunt Arya doesn’t look too convinced and she lets out an exasperated sigh. She is resigned by now. Her brother has been all mysterious and cryptic ever since his return home to Winterfell and she doesn’t bother to figure out why anymore. She accepts it wholeheartedly. Uncle Bran has changed. He calls himself the three eyed raven now and he sees visions and knows things. She walks behind him and pushes his wheelchair. 

“There’s going to be a storm soon…” Uncle Bran says as he looks up into the night sky.

“Yes… Nothing but storms this side of the Trident.” Aunt Arya mutters. 

I walk beside them and Uncle Bran looks at me and we share a knowing smile that only two companions who had travelled through time together would share. We walk pass a smiling young man with lovestruck blue eyes and Aunt Arya sighs as he looks at her in awe. 

“If you look at me like that again, I’ll cut your eyes out…” She warns him. She sounds serious but I know she’s teasing. She cares too much for the man to do such a horrible thing to him.

“If you say so M'lady…” He teases her back. Aunt Arya rolls her eyes and ignores him as she pushes Uncle Bran’s wheelchair into the Great Hall.

The future Lord of the Stormlands is still smiling widely at her while she scowls. I laugh softly at their antics. It is clear as day that they care for each other, though Aunt Arya wants to be unfeeling and cold to him. I know that she will never leave his side. They never did get married because she does not want to be a Lady, who is just the wife of a Lord. That is not who she is. Instead she helps him rule the Stormlands and commands their forces after bending the knee and pledging allegiance to my father the King.

The children she has with Gendry Baratheon, Father had them legitimized even when Aunt Arya never asks him to. Lyanna thought the whole thing was scandalous, that the King’s sister would allow herself to remain the unwed mistress of a Lord. Aunt Arya however couldn’t care less. Let the people say what they want. She doesn’t give a fig. They never dare to say anything within her earshot, knowing how good she is with her dagger.

 

Chapter Text

Rhaelle

It feels strange standing here, but I don’t know where else to go. I’m not waking up yet and this means I’m still in the past. Still in Winterfell and it is my parents’ wedding night. I look at the woman crying to herself in the bed and sit next to her. She can’t see me of course, maybe she can’t even feel me but I need to comfort her just as she has always been my source of comfort when I was a child. I wrap my arms around her as she sobs and bury my nose in her silver hair. She smells like she always does, of flowers, the light scent of roses.

“It’s going to be alright Mama…” I whisper into her ear.

Some strange part of me wishes that she can hear me and maybe she does. Mama stops sobbing after a while and dries her eyes. There is a knock on the door and my mother sits up. She steels herself.

“Your Grace…” Missandei’s gentle voice calls her.

I see the disappointment in my mother’s face. She knows she shouldn’t have hoped that he would come to her, still you love who you love. Her feelings aren’t something she can quite control at the moment. She reasons that her pregnancy causes so.

“Just one moment.” the Queen tells Missandei. She walks to the mirror and stares at herself, drying whatever remnants of tears left.

I am a dragon. I will not cry… I am the blood of the dragon. I must be strong. I must have fire in my eyes when I face them, not tears.

It’s the same thing she has been saying to herself ever since she was a girl. Nothing can touch her or hurt her if she doesn’t allow them to. And I know she feels disappointed that she has allowed herself to feel so deeply for Father. To have let him into her heart where no one has ever been before, to have fallen in love during the worst possible time, right in the middle of a Great War. It is a weakness, she feels and now what’s left for her is heartbreak and tears. Except she can’t afford to cry or be weak, not when she is Queen, not when she is finally carrying a babe inside of her. She needs to be strong.

“Come in…” She says in that firm voice, hiding whatever quivering emotions that is inside of her. I watch her as she composes herself. She stands regally as Missandei walks in with a few handmaidens. They brought her a tray of food and a new woolen nightdress for her to change.

Mama stares at the food and feels ill instantly. Missandei smiles gently at her.

“You have to eat Your Grace. The baby needs nourishment.”

The Queen sighs and drinks the goats milk. She breaks a piece of bread and forces herself to swallow it down. She changes into her woolen nightgown and lets her handmaidens to undo her braids and brush her thick silver hair. All the while, nary a smile on her face.

“The King won’t be joining me,” She says when her handmaidens are finished with their task. Missandei looks at her and gives a nod. The Dothraki women left the room.

“Your Grace, I can stay here if you want some company…” Missandei tells her and my mother shakes her head.

“It’s fine.” She replies, not bothering to hide the sadness in her voice. “I just want to be alone tonight.”


Rhaelle

My father stands outside the door. He is hesitant. He clenches his fist wanting to knock on it but decides not to. The Unsullied guards standing at her door are still like statues. They don’t cross their spears like they would to the others. He is their King, the Queen’s new husband and Lord. Greyworm had briefed them earlier, explaining to his men and to the Dothraki bloodriders how things have changed. My father is allowed to enter her chambers. He breathes in deeply.

She is his wife now and his Queen. He is still King in the North, not a Warden or Lord. And he may very well be King of the Seven Kingdoms as Ser Davos had pointed out earlier but Father doesn’t care about that. He doesn’t care about sitting on the Iron Throne or about his real birth right as a son of Rhaegar. All he cares about is the looming Great War to come and defeating the Night King. But he’s lying to himself. He cares about my mother deeply. He is in love with her, plain as day to anyone. He’s not that good in hiding his emotions yet. Even the kitchen maid can see how he stares longingly at the silver haired Targaryen Queen.

He feels frustrated, he had gone to the crypts earlier wanting some solace. Staring at the statue of Lyanna Stark that was on her tomb and also of Ned Stark, the father he thought he knew. Father thinks of the child that is growing in my mother’s womb. He never thought he’d ever have a child. Having a son was something he never dared to dream of. 

What can I give him? No name, no lands or titles. And who would want to wed a Bastard?

But he is a bastard no longer. He is a trueborn Targaryen prince. The heir to the Iron Throne as Uncle Bran and Maester Samwell had told him. Still his child is a product of incest, the woman he has fallen in love with turns out to be his aunt by blood. People will talk and they will jeer. They will say all sorts of things and my father doesn’t want to deal with that. He has had his fair share of insults being a Bastard of Winterfell. Enough to last a lifetime, enough for that to be a shield that he doesn’t care for it anymore. 

Fuck it… He cusses. My father knocks on the door once and opens it. He decides that he will never spend a night away from her if he can help himself. He closes the door behind him and my mother stirs in bed. She turns, surprised that he is in her room and sits up on her bed. 

They look at each other, not saying a word. My father walks straight to her and pulls her into his arms, kissing her deeply. They kiss rather passionately and I almost blush. Mama wraps her arms around him, not breaking the kiss and I know that I should leave. This is too private and intimate a moment for both of them. I turn and walk away. I can hear them shedding their clothes. I feel myself being pulled away and I blink my eyes open. Someone is calling my name.



Rhaelle…

It’s my sister Lyanna calling me. I look around and realise that we are in the drawing room in Red Keep and she is working on her embroidery. It is daytime and I didn’t realise I had been daydreaming. Usually the traveling happens when I’m asleep at night. This is very new to me.

Lyanna looks at me closely and purses her lips. “You were smiling the entire time….”

“What is it?” She asks and I am at a loss for words.

What do I tell my sister? That I almost saw my parents doing the deed. On their wedding night no less. 

“Tell me…” Lyanna says urgently and clasps my hand tight. 

I do not say anything and look away, a smile still on my face. I feel embarrassed and I must be blushing. My sister is frustrated by my silence and walks away leaving the embroidery on the settee. I sigh and decide that I should help her finish it. I hold the needle and silk threads, gently starting on embroidering the dragon for my mother’s new dress.

Chapter Text

Rhaelle

It’s hard for me not to accidentally catch my parents doing something intimate when I travel back into the past. Sometimes I shut my eyes tightly just in case. I do not want to see anything that I have to unsee. So far I am grateful that I hadn’t seen anything obscene. It is obvious that they are very passionate and amorous with each other, as if they can’t get enough of each other. There is a lot of kissing. A lot. Too much in fact. It’s a wonder to me that they’re able to separate their mouths to do other things like eating or speaking. Separating limbs however, that seems like an impossible task. One best handled by the Hand. 

Like Rabbits… I had overheard Lord Tyrion complaining to Varys. Fucking like rabbits… 

Sometimes the King and Queen didn’t even care if they were too loud in their passions. Lord Tyrion rolls his eyes as he stands waiting for the king outside his chambers. My mother’s loud moans can be heard throughout the royal wing of Maegor’s Holdfast in Red Keep.

“Your Grace…” He clears his throat. He looks at Varys and the Master of Whisperer shakes his head. The Hand had been knocking on the door for quite a while.

“Your Grace!” The Hand raise his voice and knocks on the heavy oak door again.

My father finally shows himself, dressed in his sleeping robe. His head sticking out as the door is slight ajar. His hair is disheveled. And he is sweating as if he had been heavily exerting himself.

“My Lord Hand, the Queen and I have decided that we will extend our…” He says and fumbles. “Our rest…we require more privacy if you don’t mind.”

“My King… the princes haven’t seen either you or the Queen since two days ago…” Varys says quietly to him. Always the diplomatic one. 

“The boys need their mother and their father….” Lord Tyrion tells him and even stares at his face. He scowls at my father and my father is surprised that his Hand would dare glower at him.

“And you have duties to do. Kingly duties…” Lord Tyrion reminds the King, not bothering to hide his snippy tone.

“Jon….”

My mother’s seductive voice is heard and my father’s head turns to look at her inside his chambers. The expression on his face and the dark look in his eyes says a lot. He is not going to leave his chambers right away.

“Give me an hour Lord Tyrion. Just one hour…” He says to Lord Tyrion and the Hand sighs. The King closes his bedchamber door and Lord Tyrion shakes his head as he and Varys walk away.

“I won’t be surprised if she gets pregnant again,” Varys remarks. 

And that is how my headstrong sister Lyanna was conceived. A passionate, heated romp between my parents in Red Keep during the third year of my father’s reign. It does explain a lot. Lyanna is very passionate and intense as well. And that fiery dragon temper she occasionally has can be a bit too much.


King Jon, the First of his Name.

It feels strange sitting on the Iron Throne. The metal feels cold when he touched it. Snow is still falling on King’s Landing. This Winter will be the longest one yet. The Great War is over. The Night King and his army had fallen. Cersei Lannister now a prisoner in Dragonstone and Euron Greyjoy’s Iron fleet had been burned by Daenerys’ only surviving dragon. Jon was against letting her fly her dragon and rain fire on the vast fleet. She was already six months along with their first born but his Queen wife was too stubborn. She rode into battle on Drogon with Jon sitting behind her. There was no way he would let his wife and Queen go alone especially when she’s carrying his son and heir. Euron Greyjoy was finally defeated and Yara took the Salt Throne, executing her uncle when it was over and done with.

The victory feels rather hollow at times. Tens of thousands had died. The North bearing the brunt of most casualties. Ancient Northern Houses were wiped out, the Karstarks and Umbers among them. They were the first to be overrun by the Dead when The Wall was breached. Daenerys had lost another dragon of hers, the fearless green dragon Rhaegal named after Jon’s real father. Burned at the neck by an undead Viserion. The Great Battle for Dawn had many great heroes dying valiantly in battle as well. Beric Dondarrion, Greyworm, Ser Jorah Mormont among them. But the great losses paved the way for new beginnings. 

His son, Daeron was born in Winterfell during one of the worst snowstorms in recent history and Jon was grateful to the Old gods when he finally held the precious prince in his arms. It was all not for nothing. All the sacrifices they had made, for he had his son in his arms and his wife the Queen was safe. Daenerys was with child again less than a year later and that was a wonderful surprise to the royal couple when his good friend Sam, the new Maester in Red Keep informed them. It seemed that Daenerys’ once barren womb had quickened with child again and Jon was determined that they’ll have more children. He loved seeing her round belly and watching it grow bigger as the days passed. He loved rubbing it gently and kissing it, knowing that his child lied nestled safely inside of her, his beloved Wife and Queen.

“We’ll name him Aemon…” Jon said and smiled at his wife. He couldn’t think of a better Targaryen name than that of the wise Maester who had counseled him in Castle Black. 

Daenerys smiled back at him and Jon kissed her lips gently. The kiss grew deep like most of their kisses do. He found it impossible to pull away from her. His need for her was potent. She stoked a fire deep inside him and he just wanted more of it. They could lie in bed for hours even during the day and couple vigorously. 

Gone was the gentleness that they initially had as new lovers. It seems more primal, more passionate and sometimes it is as if they are animals rutting pleasurably, the dragon and the wolf or half wolf to be more precise and Jon was surprised that he liked it. He wasn’t that experienced in sex and had only been with one woman before his wife. Daenerys never told him how many lovers she had and Jon never asked. He didn’t want to think about all the men who had bedded her. That was all in the past. Daenerys was his now and he was hers. Now and always…

 


Daenerys

He leaves her trembling, not from the cold or from fear but from want. From wanting someone too much, that even having him isn’t enough. It is as if, Jon has become a part of her. When he isn’t inside of her, when she can’t feel his touch or his lips, she suddenly feels empty. At first, it vexes her beyond measure. She isn’t supposed to want anyone this much, to need someone this terribly, to love and love intensely, losing herself completely, unraveling right under his intense dark gaze. It isn’t healthy at all.

She is a Queen not some lovesick girl she had to remind herself but she acts like a lovesick girl when he’s around. There’s no point in putting up pretenses or being distant. It’s all broken, whatever walls she put up, it has crumbled. Jon did that. At times, in the beginning she hated him for that. She hated the power he has over her, then she hated herself for letting him in. But hate is such a strong word as Lord Tyrion has said. It’s a horrible word that you need to use sparingly. So she doesn’t use it anymore. The hate is all gone now. Like ashes blown in the wind.

Now it’s nothing but love and passion and the sweat that comes with the love and passion. Daenerys laughs softly when she thought that maybe it was just one sided. That it was all on her end. She is wrong because she knows now that Jon loves her just as intensely. Jon still looks her as if he can’t believe that she’s right before him. He holds her as if he’s afraid she’ll drift away. When they kiss, it seems like it’ll never end and he’ll groan softly, hating himself when he has to finally pull his lips away from hers. She feels the same. She could kiss him forever. There’s always a reason for him to touch her. Whenever they walk side by side, he would reach out for her and hold her hand, or have their arms linked. And whenever they coupled, it leaves her breathless and wanting more. She has become a source of comfort for him. Jon needs her and he is not afraid to show it.

She supposes it feels powerful to be needed, especially by someone as powerful as her husband. She had willingly given up her claim to the throne when they had finally defeated Cersei Lannister. Maybe it was just exhaustion from the after effects of the Great War and all the losses sustained or that the stresses of motherhood was beginning to weigh on her. Daeron had begun teething, fussing loudly and she was heavily pregnant with Aemon when they were finally in Red Keep. The thought of ruling and rebuilding a war torn country just seemed too heavy a task and she needed to focus all her energy on her precious princes. She remembered what her old lover Daario Naharis once said about her, she was a Conqueror not one suited to just sit on a throne. Her Hand was a bit disappointed with her decision, telling her that it is foolish Love that is doing this. She is letting her feelings for her husband to diminish her ambitions. Daenerys doesn’t think so, for she finally has something she wants more than the throne.

 

Chapter Text


Jon

He was enjoying his hot bath that evening, the feel of warm water on his skin made his muscles relaxed and he cupped some of the hot water and washed his face with it. His wife walked in and Jon smiled. She was dressed in her robe, her long silver tresses unbound, flowed down, almost to her thighs.

“Do you want some company my King?” Daenerys asked him, violet eyes shining, her voice soft and coy. A teasing come hither smile on her beautiful face.

Jon grinned and nodded his head. He watched as she took her robe off. Daenerys stood naked before him, the silk pooled at her feet. He’d never get sick of looking at her. Seeing her naked body, her perfectly shaped breasts that had grown heavier since his son’s, Daeron’s birth, the gentle swell of her tummy, the curves of her waist and even the dawny silver hair covering her mound and her shapely thighs and legs. Jon moved closer and took her hand, pulling her into the tub gently. Daenerys gasped and wrapped her arms around him. Jon kissed her lips tenderly. 

“I missed you today…” She murmured and leaned against him.

“I was only gone a few hours..” Jon told her and held her closer.

“I know… but I hate being away from you.” Daenerys said softly. She looked into his eyes and sighed. Jon kissed her again. 

He knew exactly how Daenerys felt. Jon hated being away from her too. Jon needed her by his side, it was strange to describe it but it started to physically hurt when he’s away from her. Like a phantom pain in his heart and he could still feel it. His heart aches when she’s not there for him to touch. Even his Hand had realised it. The King could not go a few hours without seeing his wife and having some form of physical contact with her. He would get distracted his thoughts far away, thinking of his Queen, acting like a lovesick boy who was still obsessing over his lover despite the four years being married to her. 

“Lord Tyrion thinks its not natural, being this close to one’s spouse….” Jon said and Daenerys snorted.

“What does Lord Tyrion know?” She asked in a dismissive tone. “He is not married.”

“He was married before. Twice in fact.” Jon informed her. 

“He thinks I’m too dependent on you.” Jon told her.

“I am your wife Jon. I should think that’s what marriage is, two people in love, depending on each other.” Daenerys said. She leaned against his chest and he kissed her shoulder blade, burying his nose in her silver hair, inhaling the scent.

“Maybe we really do love each other too much Dany…” Jon uttered and kissed her nape.

Daenerys turned and looked at him, the water sloshing in the tub. 

“Is that a bad thing Jon?” She asked him, wide violet eyes staring right at him.

“No my Love…it’s not a bad thing. How can it be?” Jon said and held her beautiful face, gently caressing her cheek before kissing her again.

Fuck…you’re beautiful…you’re so beautiful. Sometimes I wonder what I ever do to deserve you?

 


Daenerys

Lyanna came screaming into the world in their fifth year of marriage. Daenerys remembered Lyanna was a difficult baby when she was carrying her. The Queen was having all sorts of cravings when she was with child. For strawberries dipped in cream, honeyed pudding, spiced pork sausages lightly seared by the fire and boiled quails eggs in herbs and butter. 

She grew tired very easily and her moods were quite erratic even. Her boys were much calmer babies when they were inside her. Daenerys was easily annoyed by the little things and she found herself clinging to Jon more. Her dearest husband was so patient with her, kissing her to calm her down and letting her rest in his arms all day if necessary.

“I think the child will be difficult…” Daenerys complained as she arched her back, sitting in the bed. Her back ached and she was feeling so hot lately that it was better to sleep naked. 

“Whatever it is she will be loved.” Jon said and held her bare round belly, caressing it gently.

“How can you be so sure that it’s a girl?” Daenerys asked him, brows arched curiously.

“Bran wrote me a note from Winterfell.” Jon told her and Daenerys rolled her eyes. What a way to ruin the surprise. She was annoyed by it and Jon saw it on her face.

“I shouldn’t have said anything…” He said softly and shook his head.

“No it’s alright.” Daenerys snapped and Jon grew quiet. 

“Don’t you find it vexing that he knows things about us Jon? Everything? He probably even knows when or how we die.” She ranted.

“Come here…” Jon said gently and pulled her in his arms. Daenerys’ heart melted almost immediately in his touch. She calmed down a bit. Her mood not as sour.

“If we die, we die but first we live…"He said and kissed her temple firmly.

“If anything happens to me when I’m in labour. Promise me you’ll take care of our children Jon.” She said to him.

“Nothing’s going to happen to you.” Jon told her, his dark eyes looking straight at hers.

“And if anything does. I’ll get the red witch to bring you back.” He said solemnly.

“You would do that?” Daenerys stared at him in surprise. Jon had made her promise not to bring him back should he fall in battle years ago.

“I don’t think I’m strong enough to go on without you my Love…”

Daenerys laughed softly when she heard it. Jon was being silly of course. He would do just fine. He had been fine all along before he even met her. She stared out of the window as Jon held her in his arms, seeing the waters of Blackwater rush. She was fine too before she met him. But now that they are together, Daenerys couldn’t imagine not having Jon by her side. The loss would be too great. Maybe that was what Lord Tyrion was trying to warn her before. Love can be dangerous. It makes you do things you’d never do, take risks you would never take and feel loss you would never dare imagine.


The King, the Queen and the Princess.

She was her father’s Joy. A Beauty even as a babe, with dark raven hair, doe brown eyes and full pink lips of her mother. She was the couple’s first daughter and the King was very protective of her. Lyanna could do no wrong in the King’s eyes and she had her father wrapped around her little finger. The Queen didn’t know what to do with a little girl. She had been mothering two boys till Lyanna came along and the two princes were very well behaved and obedient. 

The girl was a spitfire though, stubborn and wild, “more Wolf than Dragon…”The Queen had said. Lyanna had a temper that was like her mother’s and the Queen was more surprised than anyone else when the three year old princess threw quite a tantrum. Queen Daenerys had smiled and brought the child to meet Drogon. The princess was squealing in delight when her mother brought her to ride the large dragon and she soon learned to behave herself so that she could go flying with her mother as a reward.

The Queen smiled as she snuggled close to her sleeping daughter in bed. Daenerys looked at her husband. “She looks like me except she has your colouring. I didn’t realise it before but our daughter looks like me. I see it now.“

“Why do you think she has my heart wrapped around her little finger?” The King said. Jon moved closer and planted a firm kiss on his daughter’s forehead.

“She has her mother’s beauty…” He said and went to kiss his wife’s lips.

“She told me she wants to be Queen one day…” Daenerys said.

“That’s not possible…” Jon spoke. “Daeron is the heir.”

“She wants to marry Daeron when she’s older so that she can be Queen.”

Jon laughed hearing it and shook his head. “Lyanna is being creative…”

He held his wife’s hand and pulled her up from the bed.

“What are you doing?” Daenerys asked him, violet eyes glinting. Jon smiled and pulled her in, wrapping his arms around her, kissing her lips softly.

“I was thinking that we should have another princess…” Jon whispered and kissed her lips deeply.

“Jon… we have three children, I think that’s enough…” Daenerys sighed.

“You would dare defy your King’s order…” He said huskily and Daenerys moaned when she felt his hand caressing her bum. Jon pulled her tight against him and kissed her more and Daenerys knew she couldn’t deny him because she wanted him just as much.

 

 

Chapter Text

Tyrion - on Prince Aemon

The young Prince Aemon is rather melancholic. Tyrion had realized that, ever since the prince was a little boy. He tends to brood a lot like his father and maybe even his grandfather before him. But one wonders what Aemon Targaryen, Prince of Summerhall has to be sad about. He wasn’t brought up as a Bastard like his father had been or had to suffer being an exiled princess in foreign lands like his mother. Still, maybe melancholy really was an inheritable condition for Aemon rarely smiles. Aemon does not look like father, favouring his mother’s Valyrian looks with his pale gold hair and dark violet eyes but he is every bit his father’s son. A serious, quiet man loyal to his brother. He would always be by the Crown Prince’s side. Tyrion watched as Aemon stood next to his brother. The Prince of Dragonstone was all smiles of course as it was his 20th Name Day.

There are still whispers of the horrible rumour that Aemon may have been a secret Lannister due to his gold hair. That the Queen might have had an affair with her Hand or Jaime Lannister or even both of them. It was all nonsense and Tyrion had dismissed it several times. The Queen had been too wrapped up in her beloved husband, King Jon to even glance at another man admiringly. And it hasn’t always been gold. Aemon’s hair was silvery gold at birth and with the amount of time spent outdoors, riding, hunting and having sparring lessons, the sun had made his silvery gold locks darker. The prince used to be bothered by the rumours but he had learned to ignore them as advised by the Hand. 

A dragon should never concern himself with the opinions of a sheep.


Tyrion - on the Prince of Dragonstone.

Crown Prince Daeron is a mystery, how can King Jon the Great, known to be a broody serious man, had a son and heir who was boisterous and happy? So different from his father and yet he has inherited his father’s looks, the dark hair and eyes. Not the height though. He is tall like Rhaegar had been, towering over his father since he had turned twelve. The prince was a smiling babe the day he came into the world on a cold winter’s night, during a snowstorm no less. 

Tyrion remembered the disgusting wine he had forced himself to drink while he waited patiently at Winterfell’s Great Hall. Varys was there so was Davos, the Starks and Gendry Waters. Missandei and Sansa were inside with the Queen along with the Maester and midwives. King Jon was in there as well not wanting to leave his wife’s side. It was unheard of for the father to be present in the birthing chamber but Jon Snow didn’t care. Of course Daenerys Stormborn would give birth to her son and heir during one of the worst snowstorms of the season. The gods were being cunts as usual. Tyrion had thought while he drank down the bitter wine. How he missed the fine Arbor wines that were abundant in Red Keep during his time as Hand there.

The prince didn’t cry much and by all accounts, all his wetnurses and nannies had said that the prince was a good natured baby. What a delight he was to his parents who fell in love with him the moment they saw him and held him in their arms. He held all the hopes for a bright and better future after the Long Night and the Great War and they poured all of their own hopes and dreams into him. They coddled and spoiled him silly but he didn’t grow up to be selfish or be a horrible, psychotic brat like Joffrey did. Tyrion felt it was probably the King’s influence and that unflinching sense of honour and doing what was right and good that he had instilled in all of his children.

The Queen would have given Daeron the sun and moon and he need only asked. It was obvious to many, Queen Daenerys favoured Daeron among all his siblings. He is a Momma’s Boy as they say. He was happy as a child and a man happier still. Daeron grew up adored and loved and never had a bad thing said or done to him and never needed to care for much, being a prince and heir. 

The Hound had once said, “The Prince of Dragonstone is a rich, pretty boy but he is no Cunt.” He treated everyone with respect from the highest noble to the lowly peasant and had perfect manners. The Crown Prince probably thought that the whole world would fall at his feet and throw flower petals in his hair. One who was used to being loved and adored could end up shrinking in a harsh environment.

And that worried the Lord Hand. A future King shouldn’t sit easy and Daeron has a tendency to be complacent being one not to take anything seriously. He is a skilled warrior though, trained by the best swords masters in all the lands. He loves riding, hunting and the ladies. All the court ladies swoon and fell for his charms and easy smiles. Varys once whispered that Daeron was like a taller, more handsome version of Robert Baratheon and King Robert didn’t turn out too well for the kingdoms. But Robert didn’t have it easy either. He started a rebellion and fought a war for the Iron Throne while Daeron Targaryen had the privilege of being born into it. A seer had once said that the prince was born under a lucky star. He’d have nothing but good fortune shining down on him. The Queen was pleased when she heard it but Tyrion had been skeptical. He was never one for prophecies.

Chapter Text

 

Tyrion 

The Princess Rhaelle is a sweet girl, she has been one ever since she was born. She reminds Tyrion so much of his beloved niece, Myrcella that the Hand can’t help but have a soft spot in his heart for the princess. She is kind and gentle and everyone who knew her loved her. Her birth was a difficult one, the Queen had almost bled to death. And if not for Grand Maester Tarly, Tyrion was sure Daenerys would have died. It would have devastated King Jon, for there was no greater Love for him than the love he had for his wife. She took a long while to recover and the King never left her side throughout. Tyrion acted as Lord Protector and Regent as King Jon stayed with his wife. The children would be with their father and mother. Daeron was nine then and Aemon eight and Lyanna was only four years old. They all slept in the room next to the Queen’s chambers and their father with them.

The royal family are very close, unlike other noble families. Both the King and Queen were very affectionate with their children and that was unusual as most highborn families in the South have governesses to look after their young. Maybe growing up as an orphan made Daenerys a doting mother. The Queen is extra caring and loving with her babies. They are her whole life and they followed her wherever she went, like her dragons would when they were still little. The death of her two beloved dragons still brought tears to her eyes even till this day. 

She still has Drogon who would travel to and fro between King’s Landing and Dragonstone. Flying as he pleases along Blackwater Bay catching whales in the sea or cattle in the fields. He has grown twice in size since the Great War. Maybe almost as large as Balerion the Black Dread. Drogon is the only dragon left in the world so he was guarded well. The Queen made sure of it. Armed guards would stand by as he sleeps on the grass by the cliffs of Dragonstone. 

When Prince Daeron took up his seat in the island fortress bringing his brother Aemon with him, he installed more guards and watchmen and even commandeered a quarter of the Royal fleet to patrol the bay as well as the waters along the Narrow Sea. Of course the Hand had no idea that the smiling laidback prince had dreams of conquest. He means to take back the old slave cities in the Bay of Dragons that his mother once ruled and control the riches of the East including the profitable trade routes that pass through the nine Free Cities.

 

 


Aemon.

My brother, the Crown Prince wants to travel East. That’s where all the riches are, Daeron says. The Westerlands has no more gold, the North is a barren wasteland with little arable soil left for farming. Dorne is mostly a desert, the Vale is full of rocks, the Riverlands nothing but rivers, and the once fertile lands of the Reach had been wrecked by the last long Winter and the Great War. But the East with its Free Cities that are more developed had been spared from winter and the army of the dead due to its heat and the Narrow Sea, and that is where the future lies.

“Father will never agree to this.” I tell him while we are in the War Room of Dragonstone. My father, the King isn’t one for Conquest. He thought it a folly and that it would only cost more lives and gold.

“We don’t need Father’s permission,” Daeron says coolly.

“He is King.” I say to him, looking straight at Daeron.

“Of the Seven Kingdoms not of Essos.” Daeron tells me and I frown. 

“The Bay of Dragons still belongs to us Brother, to House Targaryen. Our mother conquered and sacked the cities there.”

“And she left.” I breathe loudly. “She took her ships and her dragons and she headed west.”

I keep thinking of how Daeron and his silly ideas used to get us in trouble when we were younger. He’d sneak out of Red Keep palace in the middle of the night dragging me along just so he could go to the tavern and pretend that he was a commoner. We would dress in coarse cloaks as we explored the city and of course there were times when we got into trouble getting into bar fights with drunken muscular thugs who chased us down the streets. And that one time when we were still children, thinking that we could ride from Winterfell where we were visiting family to Castle Black by ourselves, just to see the Broken Wall. I remember Father was furious. He rode hard into the night with his men to track us down.

Two young princes, the heir and the spare thinking that we could just run away to see the Wall. He screamed at us when we were back in Winterfell and we were rather shocked by it then because Father had never gotten this angry before. Mama was angry that Father would shout at her precious boys and they had a heated argument. I felt awfully guilty about it while Daeron was blasé as usual. 

Lyanna only shook her head and crossed her arms. “I told you so…”

“Tattletale…” Daeron said and shot her an angry glare but she only shrugged nonchalantly. 

I looked at my brother and rolled my eyes and Daeron did the same. Lyanna was Father’s favourite and she would take any opportunity to be in his good graces, including telling on us. Rhaelle was only three then and she saw us as we sat on the floor 
outside the King’s Room in Winterfell. We could hear our parents arguing inside.

I smiled and my little sister went to me. I pulled her in and let Rhaelle sat on my lap.

“What’s going on?” She asked.

“Daeron and Aemon are in trouble.” Lyanna piped in with a bright grin. She sounded too gleeful about it. 

“Nothing’s going to happen…” Daeron said, stifling a yawn and tapped my shoulder. He probably realised I was brooding more.

“We’d probably not be allowed to have sweets during supper and to stay in our rooms for a day or two.” He shook his head and sighed. “Father’s not going to whip
 us or have us do hard labour.”

Daeron was right of course, Father was angry but he wasn’t cruel. Besides my mother would never allow corporal punishment. And in the end, he did take us to Castle Black on the back of Drogon before we left Winterfell. It was safer then for the King and the Princes of the realm to travel on a mighty black dragon. No one would dare try to rob or harm us.

Chapter Text

Daenerys

She was angry with her husband that evening. Jon had overreacted and unleashed his fury upon her precious babies. And he did it so publicly in the Great Hall. Daenerys didn’t approve of it. She wouldn’t put up with it either. For Jon to lose his temper and to scream at the boys. It boils her blood. Her boys, her precious sweet boys. She keep thinking of their faces. Her Darling Daeron and her Sweet Aemon. Her Dragon Princes. What wrong did they do? All they wanted was to see The Wall. Dragons are often curious by nature. Not meant to be chained down. And now their mother is angry. She had always been fiercely protective of her children. They don’t call her The Mother of Dragons for nothing.

“I don’t approve of it…” Daenerys said coldly to him.

“You don’t approve?” Jon asked, almost gaping at her. He hadn’t had his Kingly authority challenged in a long while.

“They are your sons Jon. Not servant boys that you can scream at. They are my precious children. My princes.”

“They need to understand the consequences of their actions Dany,” He sighed.

“They can’t be going to the Wall, on their own, in the middle of the night. Anything could have happened to them. They could have been robbed or killed or fallen off their horses. The boys don’t know the woods around here…” 

Jon looked at her and she still had her arms crossed.

“I admit I may have overreacted.” Jon said but Daenerys still wouldn’t budge.

“I don’t want you to raise your voice to them ever again.” She said and Jon grew quiet.

“You coddle them too much,” He said after a while and Daenerys stared at him.

“They won’t be boys anymore and the world is not an easy place! It’s a shit place! You and I both know it! They can’t always run to their mother and hide in her bosom!“

“They are my children and I will protect them as I see fit!” She shouted, violet eyes flashing angrily.

“And they are my sons and I will raise them to be men not soft boys who will wither when you yell at them!” Jon argued back. 

His tone reminded her of the first time they met in Dragonstone and how infuriating and rude he was to her. And she remembered how she hated him then.

I mean no offence Your Grace but I don’t know you…

“I hate you…” She said angrily to him and turned away.

“Take it back…” Jon told her and grabbed her arm pulling her back to him

Daenerys only stared at him, surprised that he would grab her in that manner.

“You don’t hate me Dany. Take it back…” Jon said, his dark eyes staring at hers and Daenerys lips trembled in anger, bold violet eyes meeting his gaze.

How dare he? How dare he thinks that he can tell me what to do? And how to raise my sons? How dare he thinks he can touch me after making me angry? I am the Blood of the Dragon not some sweet Northern lass who will be an obedient wife to him.

“I hate you….” Daenerys said it again, punctuating every word deliberately. 

There was a cruelty to her tone and she saw the flash of pain in Jon’s eyes. He deserved it, she thought. For thinking he could ever speak to her that way. After everything… After everything she had given him. Everything she had given up for him. Past hurts and resentments started to bubble up inside of her, threatening to boil over. 

Jon still hadn’t let her go and pulled her closer even, his dark hooded eyes never leaving hers and Daenerys was shocked when his lips found hers and kissed her hungrily. She was still angry but kissed him anyway, wrapping her arms around him. He pulled her smallclothes down and pushed her on the desk, hiking her dress up. She moaned when she felt his fingers penetrating her, his thumb circling her nub.

Oh Yesss…Make me come…Make me come! She wanted to scream

“Tell me you love me…” Jon whispered in her ear as his fingers moved in and out of her. Daenerys didn’t want to. She wanted to punish him. She should just be cold and shut him out like he did to her years ago when he found out the truth of their relations. She should return the favour. Give Jon Snow back a taste of his own bitter medicine.

Let his heart break like mine did…let him feel my pain. My despair, why should I be the only one who suffer? Because I’m a woman? I should be the one with a broken heart?

Daenerys spread her legs wider, giving him more access. He entered her in one long stroke and started fucking her hard, she met his every thrust, raising her hips, bucking it against his, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist as she felt him moving inside her.

“I love you Dany…” Jon told her softly, kissing and nibbling her neck. She turned away, not wanting to look him in the face but Jon held her face so he can look deep in her eyes.

“I love you so much.” Jon told her, there was this fierceness in his voice and he started moving faster, rutting harder and she moaned in pleasure. It felt so good what he was doing, she knew she would reach her peak soon and Daenerys never wanted him to stop.

Chapter Text

Jon

He spilled his seed inside her but he made sure she came first. He mouthed her name, whispering words of endearments. Telling her he loved her over and over again. Daenerys rolled away still cold and angry, and moved to the edge of the bed, her back facing him. His wife still hadn’t said a word and Jon touched her back, letting his finger trail down her spine to the cleft between her buttocks. She looked like a goddess even from behind. His goddess, His Queen, His wife. His.

He never really had anything or anyone who was truly his. Ghost was his faithful direwolf but Jon never felt like he owned the furred creature and Ygritte though she was possessive of him, Jon never really thought of the Wildling the same way. He loved her but he was still loyal to the Nights Watch. He remembered waking up next to Ygritte and yet he still felt alone. But with Daenerys, she broke the mould. Ah…she really did. With her dragons and her silver hair, violet eyes and her power, there’s no one like her. He had told her that much during the inauspicious meeting in the Dragonpit of King’s Landing years and years ago. How sweet she was then, smiling at him. Of course Jon knew after thirteen years of marriage, Daenerys had quite the dragon temper as well.

“I’m sorry my Love…” He said softly and moved behind her in the bed, kissing her neck gently, hoping he could assuage her.

“You don’t mean it…” Daenerys said quietly after a while.

“I’m sorry that I hurt you. I never wanted that.” Jon told her. He gently held her shoulders and turned her so she would face him.

“I love you so much Dany…when you say you hate me…” Jon breathed, a hitch in his voice.

“It just…I don’t know. I don’t like it. It makes me feel small, as if I’m still the Bastard of Winterfell who doesn’t deserve anything good. It’s worse even, because I don’t care about being a bastard but if you don’t love me anymore….”

“You broke my heart Jon.” She said softly and Jon stared at her.

“When I yelled at the boys?” Jon asked her, surprised she said such a thing.

Daenerys shook her head. “Not then. I mean years ago, right here…”

“What?” He was lost. What did she mean by that?

“Before we were married,” She told him. “You ignored me for days and told me what we did was a mistake and that it can never happen again. Then you forced me to marry you because you didn’t want our son to be born a Bastard, not because you wanted me…”

“Dany…” Jon groaned softly. “I love you, you know this. Even then I was crazily in love with you.”

“You looked like you were ashamed Jon, like what we did was a crime. Did you ever think about my feelings? I didn’t plan on meeting you and falling in love with you. And I didn’t know that you are Rhaegar’s son.” Daenerys said sadly to him.

“And you came to me that night on the ship. I wasn’t the one who went to your cabin and seduced you.“

“That happened years ago….” Jon covered his face with both hands in frustration. He couldn’t believe they were having an argument about what had happened thirteen years ago. “We’re all passed that now.”

“I don’t know Jon…” Daenerys muttered and moved away from his touch. “Being here in Winterfell again, it just brings all the bad memories back.”

He watched as his wife got up and put on her long robe.

“Where are you going?” Jon asked her.

“I’m going to sleep with the children tonight,” Daenerys replied as she pulled her thick, silver hair into a low ponytail.

 


Jon

He kept staring up at the ceiling that night. The bed felt cold without her. The whole fight was ridiculous. His wife was being too overprotective of the boys and there was the sudden mention of the past that had soured everything else. Jon hated himself even. He didn’t mean to make Daenerys upset and he shouldn’t have pushed for the trip to Winterfell but Sansa and her husband Evan had invited them and it had been too long since he had been up North. He is still King there after all. And he missed his family. He missed his sister Sansa and his brother Bran, and the fresh Northern air that is Home.

It never occurred to Jon that he had broken Daenerys’ heart all those years ago. Maybe it was because she had been quite restrained with her feelings towards him in those early days and never showed much. He knew that she loved him then but it wasn’t as emotional and as passionate as she had been since they had gotten married. He barely knew her then. A month or so while he was in Dragonstone and then the few weeks traveling up home to Winterfell to get The North ready for the Great War. But still he was in love with her, a whirlwinded love affair right in the middle of a Great War

“They will write songs about you and the Queen. A great love story for the ages,” the Hand, Tyrion Lannister had sarcastically said. He didn’t approve of what Jon and Daenerys were doing, calling it reckless. He was proven right of course.

When Jon found out that he was in fact a son of Rhaegar and that he had accidentally fallen in love with and even had carnal relations with his aunt by blood. He had to admit that it was a jarring revelation. If he had been too full, he would have probably vomited right there and then. Incest is a horrible thing, that was what he was taught. The Old gods frowned upon it and he remembered how disgusted he was by Craster and also the illicit affair between Cersei and Jaime Lannister. People had made jokes about them and he didn’t want anyone to make such lewd jokes about Daenerys and him. Then he found out that she was with child and Jon had to do the right thing. He groaned when he remembered the testy conversation he had with Daenerys all those years ago. How volatile it was then.

“I do not want to marry you Jon Snow.” She said coldly, even though she knew his real name
.

“I will not have my child be born a Bastard.” Jon said to her. His tone had gotten harsh. 

“Maybe it’s not even yours…” Daenerys had said in that nonchalant tone.

And Jon remembered being angered by it. The way she provoked him then, same as she did just a few nights ago when she told him she hated him. Daenerys had the power to hurt him with just mere words. He didn’t believe her of course. He knew she was’t some trollop who slept around with different men at the same time.

You will marry me Your Grace, even if I have to drag you kicking and screaming into the godswood.” Jon told her and she was shocked hearing it. He left her guest chamber hurriedly and headed to his own rooms, his fist clenching in frustration.


 

Jon

This is not right. A wife should be with her husband, a Queen with her King.

Jon had had enough time thinking by himself. He would now act. He got out of bed and headed straight to the room where the children were sleeping. Daenerys was sleeping next to Rhaelle and Lyanna while Aemon and Daeron slept in separate beds across the room. He smiled, seeing his wife’s sleeping form. She looked so beautiful and he sighed as he bent and lifted Daenerys up into his arms. 

Lyanna stirred in bed and blinked her bleary eyes open.

“Father?” She called him and rubbed her eyes sleepily.

“Shh… it’s night time Sweetling. Time to sleep,” He said to her.

Lyanna smiled and yawned. “Mama says she misses you.”

“I know I miss her too…” Jon said and smiled at his daughter. Lyanna had closed her eyes and fallen back to sleep.

Jon carried his sleeping wife, the Queen back into the King’s chambers and gently laid her down in the large bed. He got in and pulled her in his arms. It felt right again when Daenerys was there, with him hugging her from behind. He had grown too used to her warmth and the feel of her soft, lithe body. Jon stifled a yawn and felt his wife snuggling closer, leaning back against his chest. She took his hand and rubbed it tenderly against her arm.

“I love you Jon…” Daenerys whispered softly and Jon smiled when he heard that. He closed his eyes and had a fitful night’s sleep, one he hadn’t had in days.

Chapter Text

Daenerys

She had a gentle heart. Her late friend, Ser Jorah had said that once. There were times when Daenerys missed his presence as she missed Greyworm, Ser Barristan and of course her two dragons, her fiery children, Rhaegal and Viserion. She would never get over the loss, the same with Rhaego. Her children with Jon, how she loved them fiercely and would protect them with everything in her. 

Her precious little dragons as she called them. Her beloved princes and princesses brought so much joy in her life. Something she had never expected to have. Actual living children and a family and she was thankful for that everyday. Daenerys would rather die than lose another child and that was what she wanted when she was in labour with Rhaelle. She was sick with childbed fever and the Maester had said that her chances were slim but Rhaelle was alive, the baby sleeping soundly in her crib and Daenerys was fine with that. She could pass peacefully knowing that her child was alright but Jon wouldn’t let her go that easily of course.

Jon was overwrought. He couldn’t lose her. What would he do without her? Ten years together and they had become too used and too dependent on each other. She was his and he was hers… And nary a day gone by where they had been separated. 

Love of my life…. That was who Jon was to her. The only man who had ever broken her heart. The man she would love forever. 

Daenerys pulled through and recovered and Jon was grateful. He later decided to hold a Grand Tourney once she came out of confinement and he wasn’t one for spending money, being quite the penny pinching monarch. But it was a celebratory event and every noble House was invited. The month long competition proved to be a roaring success. It stimulated King’s Landing economy with crowded overflowing taverns, inns, and brothels and increased commerce and trade in the market squares. And it was held every two years thereafter.

 

 


 

Daenerys

“I do not wish to marry him…” Daenerys had said to Tyrion when they were in her guest chamber in Winterfell. 

“And he cannot force me! I am Queen. I don’t care if he is Rhaegar’s son. I do not want to be his wife!”

She was seething inside. Appalled at the nerve of Jon Snow or Aegon Targaryen or whatever his true name was. How dare he?? To think he had the nerve to tell the Queen, that he would drag her kicking and screaming into the godswood to be married. Of course Jon would be emboldened now. He is in Winterfell, the North where he was crowned King, chosen by the gruff Northern Lords to be their leader. Daenerys has no power here. She noticed the way the Northerners look at her. With suspicion and disdain. To them she was a Targaryen foreigner. An unwelcomed invader whose father was the cruel Mad King who had burned their beloved Lord Rickard and killed his son and heir Brandon.

“Do you love him?” Tyrion suddenly asked her after she had calmed down. 

“What does it matter? He doesn’t give a fuck about me…” Daenerys cried in anger and Tyrion was slightly shocked that she had cussed. A queen cussing wasn’t all that proper.

“Your Grace, marriage isn’t about love. A royal marriage between you and your nephew…”

Daenerys groaned when she heard that. She felt like her nausea was acting up again. Morning sickness is horrible. Worse still, when you’re stuck in a frozen castle with an army of dead soldiers marching towards you.

“It is what it is….” Tyrion said and gave a nod.

She kept quiet and allowed Tyrion to continue. 

“A marriage between you and Jon Snow…”

“Targaryen you mean…” Daenerys interrupted.

“A marriage between the both of you will bring stability to the realm. He doesn’t have to give up his title as King in the North and you will have a worthy consort. Your child will be trueborn and have a father.” Tyrion said and looked at her. 

“It’s a win-win and you’re both Targaryens so trust me when I say that the realm has seen far worse pairings. My sister and Robert Baratheon for example…“

“Do you think he means to take my throne?” Daenerys asked her Hand. 

It had been bothering her ever since she knew that Jon was actually a trueborn son of Rhaegar. Jon would actually have a real claim, more so than hers. Right of primogeniture was the law of the land and male heirs would always have a stronger claim. But what’s the point really? With the Great War to come. Maybe Ser Davos had been right all along. It doesn’t matter whose skeleton sits on the Iron Throne.

“No. That’s not the kind of man Jon is.” Her Hand sighed and looked gently at her. “And he loves you. You must know this. He just needs some time, this is all new to him.”

What about me? She wanted to ask but didn’t. Daenerys finally reluctantly agreed to marry Jon. For the child, she had to keep to telling herself. For the realm and the stability of the kingdoms, for a military alliance, for House Targaryen. 

Excuses she had made up circling in her mind the entire time they were dressing her for the wedding. But why not for love? A small, hopeful voice inside her asked. Love? Does Jon even love me anymore?

How odd it is to marry a man whom you love and yet do so reluctantly?

 

Chapter Text

Jon

He still hadn’t gotten used to the Capital despite being there for several months since the Lannister forces surrendered. Jon sighed as he looked around the large Throne Room in Red Keep. That iron chair stood there, on top of the dais, empty but soon it will have a new occupant.

“Normally the Kings will be crowned in the Sept of Baelor Your Grace, but that’s not possible now…” Qyburn had informed him softly.

Jon gave a nod as he listened close. He had to meet with Qyburn to go through the plans for the coronation. They had spared the former Hand to Cersei Lannister during the Surrender. Qyburn pledged allegiance to House Targaryen and he would serve as a Maester as well as a palace official to the new regime. Tyrion had found Qyburn to be quite useful and resourceful and they would need all the help they can get to rebuild the country once Winter has passed.

“The High Septon will usually be the one to put the crown on your head and officiate the ceremony…Have you decided on who the new High Septon will be Your Grace?” Qyburn asked Jon in that calm voice of his.

“The Queen will be the one to crown me…” Jon said and gave a small smile. “It is hers to give…”

“Oh…” Qyburn uttered and gave a nod. “In that case, I will have to inform the master of ceremonies…”

“Have you given any thought about your Name Your Grace?” Qyburn asked him.

“My name?” Jon was surprised. What a strange question to ask.

“Your regnal name.” Qyburn continued.

“Will it be Aegon, the Sixth of His Name?” Qyburn inquired.

“No…” Jon shook his head and sighed. “I will go with my own name, Jon.”

“Jon…” Qyburn nodded and gave a small smile. “The First of his Name.”

“We will need more braziers in the halls to keep the coronation attendees warm Your Grace. Usually coronations are held in the Spring. But the circumstances are a bit different now. You will be the first King to be crowned in Winter…” Qyburn continued.

Jon walked around more and looked up at the high vaulted ceilings, the arches and grand pillars. It was bigger than the Great Hall of Winterfell and even Dragonstone’s Throne Room. The Throne Room of Red Keep and its history seemed to overwhelm the King in the North at that moment. He realised then that he would soon be King of all Seven Kingdoms.

“It does take some getting used to,” Qyburn commented. “But this palace has served the former Targaryen kings well and will continue to do so.”

“Thank you Maester Qyburn,” Jon said gratefully.

“I should make my leave Your Grace to prepare for the coronation.” Qyburn said with a bow and left.

Jon stood there for a while and stared at the Iron Throne. It looked menacing with the swords and was probably uncomfortable to sit on. He thought of what the throne represented. Absolute Power and what people would do for it.

 

“Fucking ugly chair…” A familiar voice spat.

Jon turned around and smiled when he heard the Hound’s gruff voice.

“Your Grace,” Sandor Clegane said and bowed.

The Hound had chosen to stay in the Capital to serve the new King and Queen. He didn’t know where else to go after the war ended. Might as well make himself useful and serve a King who was worth serving. One who was not a raging Cunt.

“I’m to escort you to your rooms Your Grace after your meeting with Qyburn,” the Hound said and Jon nodded.

“I can go there myself.” Jon said and shook his head.

“The Hand is afraid that you might get lost. The castle’s huge.” The Hound told him and Jon shrugged. Lord Tyrion had always been rather careful.

They walked side by side heading up the grand staircase towards Maegor's Holdfast where the royal apartments were. Snow had covered the palace gardens and the grounds. It hadn’t snowed in King’s Landing in decades but the Winter proved to be long and hard. Now the entire city was blanketed in snow. Not as thick as in the North though.

“Good thing about snow…"The Hound muttered. “Covers a lot of the shit in the city.”

Jon heard that and chuckled softly.

 


 

 

Jon

The Hound brought him outside the King’s chambers and Jon walked in. He smiled seeing Ghost walking to him. Jon bend and scratched the direwolf’s head. He couldn’t leave his direwolf up in in Winterfell again and the weather down South was cold enough for Ghost and his thick white coat. Daenerys was sitting by the fireplace, her belly more pronounced now that she was in her fifth month with their second child. 

Jon walked behind her and kissed the top of her head. Daenerys turned to look at him and smiled. She looked so beautiful and Jon couldn’t help himself that he kissed her invitingly plush, pink lips. Groaning softly as he pulled his lips away. He’d kiss her forever if he could.

“Is our son asleep?” Jon asked her and his wife nodded. 

He walked to the wooden crib by the bed where his chubby ten month old son was lying down, sleeping peacefully. It always calmed Jon, seeing his son sleeping in peace. Whatever burdens he had just seemed to fade away as he looked at Daeron. Jon took his gloves off and touched Daeron’s cherubic face gently. He then sat on the chair just across his wife. Daenerys smiled and touched her round tummy.

“How was your meeting with Qyburn?” She asked him.

“Too many procedures just to put a crown on my head…” He said. Jon sighed and looked at his wife, he reached out his hand to clasp hers. He wondered if it was the right thing to do.

“Are you sure about this Dany?” He asked her. “The Iron Throne is yours. It is what you’ve always wanted.”

“It is not,” Daenerys said with a smile. “I already have what I’ve always wanted.”

“And what is that?” Jon asked, dark eyes looking at his wife tenderly

“A home Jon. Family, children…a husband who loves me just as much as I love him.”

He smiled when he heard that and got out from the chair. Jon knelt before his wife and kissed her round belly where his child lied inside. 

“You will always be my Queen, you know that. There is no one else I would bend the knee to.” Jon said as he took both her hands and clasped it tight. “And I love you very much Daenerys Stormborn.”

“I love you too Jon…” Daenerys said softly to him. She sighed and bend to kiss the top of his head gently. 

Jon just knelt there for a while, resting his tired head on his wife’s lap while Daenerys ran her fingers gently through his hair, soothing his scalp. It was comforting to him and soon he closed his eyes thinking that he could just fall asleep if he wanted to. 

What will I do without you my Love? I hope I’ll never find out…

 


 

Jon

The Hall was filled with many people, most of whom Jon didn’t recognize. Hundreds of new faces dressed in thick furs. His family was standing in the front row. Sansa and her newly wed husband Evan Hornwood, Arya was standing next to Gendry Waters. There was Tormund Giantsbane and a few representatives of the Freefolk. Bran had decided not to come, being the remaining Stark left in Winterfell but Jon knew that Bran could still witness the coronation if he chose to. Jon smiled when he saw Sam and his good friend Edd standing with the Starks as well. A few Lords of the North, Lord Glover, Lord Manderly and Lady Mormont were present, traveling all the way South, out of respect and love for their King.

He saw Jaime Lannister present, now Lord of Casterly Rock and also Edmure Tully and his wife Roslin from the Riverlands. Yohn Royce and some Lords from the Vale came by bringing Robin Arryn with them. Edric Dayne and a few noblemen from Dorne. Theon Greyjoy was there with his sister Yara. The Redwynnes came pledging their mighty fleet to the Crown and House Targaryen like they had done during the Great War, as well as bringing cases of Arbor wine for the banquet. They would be made Wardens of the South since the Tyrells were gone. The Septon who had officiated his marriage to Daenerys in Winterfell had started with the usual ceremonial prayers. Many in King’s Landing are still followers of the Faith. Jon looked at Tyrion, his Hand and Davos who would be the newly appointed Master of Laws. 

“May the Warrior grant him courage and protect him during these perilous times, may the Smith grant him Strength so that he may bear this heavy burden. May the Crone, she who knows the fate of all men, shows him the path for him to walk…and guide him through the dark places that lie ahead…”

The Septon stopped and everyone watched as Daenerys walked to him. Jon looked at his wife. He was nervous, dark eyes looking straight at her. She looked beautiful, ethereally so, dressed in a white dress, a white fur cloak covering her shoulders. Her bump wasn’t as hidden as before. He looked up at the balcony and saw the wetnurse carrying Daeron. It was alright now, he had his wife, his family, his son. Jon stepped down a few steps on the dais to allow his wife, the Queen to crown him. Daenerys started speaking, her voice clear as a bell.

“In the light of the Seven and the Old Gods, the Drowned gods and the Lord of Light…I now proclaim you, Jon of the House Targaryen, the First of his Name, King of the Andals and the First Men and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms….”

She gently placed the crown on his head.

“Long may he reign!” The Septon proclaimed and it echoed throughout the Throne Room as everyone said it as well. Jon moved back and sat on the Iron Throne as he looked at his subjects. 

This is going to be a long day…The newly crowned King thought to himself as the many Lords who were present started to form a long line, ready to bend the knee and kiss the ring, swearing an oath to their new King. He looked at his wife, the Queen who sat beside him and Daenerys gave him a reassuring smile. She took his hand and held it tight and Jon felt better immediately. It would be alright, he had his Queen by his side.

 

Chapter Text

Tyrion

He walked into the Throne Room and saw the King sitting on the Iron Throne. The Hound stood silently by the pillar several feet away. The large hall was empty after most nobles had left court for the day. Still King Jon wore a distant sad look on his face as he stared ahead.

“Heavy is the head who wears the crown…” Tyrion said quietly and sighed. He then looked at his King.

“You’re brooding again Your Grace. You’ve been doing that a lot lately. The courtiers have noticed. You’d be pleased to know that they’ve coined a nickname for you, King Jon the Brood...”

Jon then frowned at the Hand. Tyrion only smiled. One of his favourite things was to try to get under the King’s skin. Hopefully he would still have his head in tact.

“I’m beginning to understand why my wife doesn’t want to sit here….” Jon said and let out a loud heave.

“She’s more of a Conqueror. The Queen is not suited to sit on a throne.”

“And you think that I am?” Jon snapped back. It was obvious to the Hand that the King was more than just annoyed. He looked utterly miserable.

“Well you did get her pregnant again. You can’t expect her to carry a child, raise the heir, rule and rebuild a country recovering from the ravages of War. All at the same time…” Tyrion told him pointedly.

“Too much even for the Great Daenerys Stormborn.”

“You’re right. I love the Queen too much to let her take on all the burdens on her own…” Jon said and smiled slightly at his Hand. 

“I know it is not easy. Being King,” Tyrion spoke and looked at the King. The man looked really tired and Tyrion wanted to reassure him. 

“But a great many people look to you now to lead them. Not just the North, the whole country in fact, all Seven Kingdoms. And you know you have the support of all the noble Houses.”

“Aye…” Jon said quietly. “The Stormlands is secure now that my sister, Arya is there.”

The King then handed a note to Tyrion. The Hand read the contents. It was sent from Storm’s End, written by Ser Davos himself. King Jon had send him there to help his sister and the new Lord of the Stormlands.

“What about Lord Baratheon?” Tyrion asked him.

“He’s not one for ruling and lets her make the decisions. They’re building up their forces there.”

“So a marriage is in order?” Tyrion asked. Jon laughed hearing that and Tyrion wondered what was funny.

“You clearly don’t know my sister. Lord Baratheon has proposed many times and she has rejected him at every turn.” 

“But they are together aren’t they?” Tyrion asked.

“I can’t force my sister if she doesn’t want to marry the man.” The King said.

Jon then stood up and walked down the steps. Tyrion only watched as the King headed back to his chambers accompanied by a few King’s guards. The Hound beside him. 

He’s going to see his wife. Tyrion thought and shook his head. 

This is what Love does. Even the Great Jon Snow, who defeated the Wildling army in Castle Black, the Boltons, the Night King and the Dead and won the war against the Lannisters for the throne. At the end of the day, he just wants to go home to his wife. Tyrion couldn’t blame the King though. Anyone with a wife as beautiful as Queen Daenerys would want to hurry home to her every single day.


Daenerys

She never realised that being a Queen consort to the King was quite a luxury. All the privileges of royalty and not a lot of the heavy duties and responsibilities that followed. Especially since she had already birthed two healthy baby boys. The Heir, her precious Daeron and another dragon prince, The Spare as Lord Tyrion dubbed her Sweet Aemon, a nickname which Daenerys did not appreciate. She had fulfilled a very important part of her obligations, ensuring that the royal bloodline would continue for the future of House Targaryen.

I should have done this long ago. Just sit and lie on my chaise lounge, eat cakes and listen to palace gossip while my babies play. No rebellions to deal with or some rude Lord to discipline or trade to be negotiated with some foreign prince, no tedious meetings with the Small Council. 

Of course Missandei and Varys still reported to her on the happenings in court.

“And how goes the Small Council?” Daenerys asked when they came to see her at mid day. 

“Many things needs to be done. There isn’t enough grains to feed people in the Capital and well the Reach has no more food left to give.” Varys told her.

“Tell the King that he can buy grains from the Free Cities.”

“With what gold Your Grace?” Varys asked. “Cersei Lannister plundered the entire Treasury to pay for the Golden Company and lets not forget the huge loan she took out from the Iron Bank. A loan that we are still paying interest on.”

“The Hound is right…” Daenerys commented. “She really is a nasty Cunt.”

Daenerys looked at Missandei and both of them exchanged looks, looks that Vary noticed. “What is it?” He asked.

Daenerys nodded to Missandei, allowing her to tell Varys.

“We have gold in Dragonstone.” Missandei informed him. 

“We kept it in the caves after the dragonglass was mined in case we need it.” Missandei then paused. “A form of insurance.”

“So that’s why your dragon flies there every now and then, to guard the gold.” Varys said sounding surprised.

“Does the King know?” Varys asked the Queen.

“No I haven’t mentioned it to him yet.” Daenerys said and gave a quick smile.

 

Chapter Text

Daenerys

She was more than happy to perform her wifely duties. Anything to please her beloved husband. Since coming out of confinement after Aemon’s birth. Daenerys felt herself getting more lustful. She even wondered if it was the fine Arbor wines she had been drinking as her sexual appetite had grown stronger. When Jon was away during the day, she would think of him, smelling his scent on the pillow and she would touch herself while she lied in bed.

Daenerys moaned as she closed her eyes, thinking of Jon’s dark eyes and his rough husky, Northern voice that always made her tremble slightly hearing it. The way he would hold her close while he fucked her hard. She started fingering herself, her thumb on her nub. All she wanted was to come and come again with the thoughts of Jon fucking her. 

Can love, passion and lust exist at the same time for the same person? She did wonder. Sexually she was very attracted to Jon and they were very compatible. There were no complaints. She enjoyed coupling with him. It was a crazy, passionate kind of love. Then at times, after the heavy passionate coupling, when it was all late and quiet, they would just lie in each other’s arms. Gently touching and kissing each other till they get too sleepy to do anything else. She felt safe and warm with his body wrapped around her. She would go to sleep, her ear pressed against his chest where the hooked scar was, listening to the gentle beating of his heart.


“Dany…”

Daenerys heard her husband calling her and she turned around. The King was standing in the room looking at her. Jon was staring, dark brown eyes looking right at her and she knew those heated stares all too well. It always ended with their clothes strewn on the floor, bodies slapping passionately against each other, heavy moans and screams of pleasure filling the room. Jon walked to where she was resting in a few strides and pulled her up from the chaise lounge. She gasped when Jon kissed her hungrily. He needed her and her heart soared while her cunt throbbed with wetness. She felt his hard length and touched it, causing Jon to groan.

“Can we do it rough again like last time?” Jon asked her softly, pressing kisses on her neck.

Daenerys thought it was sweet that Jon would ask. She was his wife afterall. Most men would just take what they want but then she remembered her husband was not like most men. He was better than all of them. The one most deserving of her heart. Daenerys smiled at Jon and nodded. 

“Take me anyway you want to my Love…” She whispered before kissing him. “I’m yours Jon…All yours….”

 

 


 

Jon

He watched as his wife slept soundly beside him. Gods….She’s beautiful, probably the most beautiful thing Jon had ever seen in all his life. Daenerys was breathing softly and Jon smiled, watching the rise and fall of her chest. He moved closer and traced his fingers down to her heavy breast to her nipple. He touched it and watched it pebbled and the droplets of milk formed. She was still nursing both his sons. Jon let a drop touched his finger and brought to his lips. It tasted strange unlike cow’s or goat’s milk, a bit sweet and watery.

He moved closer and nuzzled his nose on her neck, breathing in her scent. Jon couldn’t remember being this obsessed with anyone or anything before. Though Davos and Tyrion did joke that he was once too obsessed with mining dragonglass and the Army of the Dead to even desire the Queen in the past. A folly on his part for sure. Things are different now, and Jon was beginning to realise how much he needed his wife’s presence. A few hours away from her and his mood would start to sour. He would get all broody. 

The only thing to brighten his mood was that he could see her after he had gone through the stresses of the day. Jon would go straight to his chambers where he knew Daenerys would wait for him, often lying on the chaise lounge, dressed in her furlined silk dresses. Jon always thought they weren’t warm enough but his wife liked the smooth fabric. He’d pull her in his arms and kissed her lips, feeling all better that she was there. Like a soothing balm to his tired, restless soul. Sometimes they would just talk and have supper before sleep, other times it would lead to more passionate encounters and perhaps both of them preferred the later.

His insomniac thoughts drifted away to his days in the Nights Watch, the vows he had taken. Wear no crown, father no children and take no wife. It didn’t matter anymore of course. Jon died when he was betrayed, stabbed by his own men. His Watch was over he had told Edd. Now with the Broken Wall, (though it was only breached at Eastwatch, the rest of the Wall was still in tact)as King, Jon had decided that The Nights Watch should not be disbanded after the Great War. Men were still needed to patrol the border just in case of any attacks made by anyone or anything, living or dead. And there needs to be a place to send hardened criminals away, where they could at least be put to good use.

Most of the surviving Wildlings whom Jon had let pass the Wall settled in the far reaches of The North. They mostly minded their own business, not bothering to assimilate and continued their way of life of hunting, fishing and trapping, and selling fur pelts in the market place. Tormund was still their leader and he agreed to bide by the terms set by Sansa Stark the Wardeness of the North. The Wildlings could settle in peace in Northern lands so long as they do not attack the Northerners and break any laws. So far there wasn’t any conflict between the two groups. Winter hadn’t shown any signs of receding into Spring and the King was worried for his people. They needed grains and firewood. Winterfell was already full with people seeking sanctuary from the harsh weather. Peace times proved to be just as challenging as times of war.

I should be there with my people. Then he remembered what Tyrion had said to him earlier. Jon is not just King in the North anymore but King of all the Seven Kingdoms. And that made him even more worrisome as he lied in bed next to his sleeping wife. Not one but seven kingdoms to rule. It is no wonder that Aerys went mad and Robert Baratheon drank himself to an early grave.

Jon sighed softly and let his head fall back on the pillow. There’s no use worrying when you can do something about it. Daenerys stirred in her sleep and moved closer, seeking his warmth. He enveloped her in his arms and pulled the furs to cover them both. He felt better that she was there with him. 

“Together my Love,” Daenerys had said whenever Jon felt too overwhelmed. “We’ll go through it together…”

 

Chapter Text

Daenerys

Jon hadn’t been sleeping well the past few nights and Daenerys was worried for him. Her husband did have a tendency to brood too much, worrying about everything. He looked so tired, with circles under his eyes and his posture so tense. At least, the situation with the grains had been resolved. Ships would now sail from Essos bringing the grains to the Seven Kingdoms, hopefully enough to feed the realm. At first Jon was irritated that she would keep it from him. That she had gold, gold she had taken with her from the Slave cities when she sacked them and had brought to Dragonstone.

“How much gold is there?” Jon asked her, eyes almost glaring.

“More than the remaining dragonglass…” Daenerys replied.

“And you never thought to tell me?” Jon asked.

“Honestly it hadn’t crossed my mind till Varys mentioned about the lack of grains.” She sighed and looked at her husband.

“My Love I am sorry but you must know we were all preoccupied with the War and then the children…”

“Dany, I don’t like you keeping secrets from me.” He told her with a groan.

“I didn’t keep it from you, I forgot about it.” She said.

“I’m not a fool!” Jon cried out. “It is obvious you choose not to tell me!”

“You don’t tell me everything either!” Daenerys suddenly yelled and immediately regretted it.

Jon’s eyes flashed angrily and he clenched his fist. She watched as he breathed deeply. Daenerys grew quiet, realising that maybe yelling at her husband the King was not a good idea, especially when he’s easily irritable from not having enough sleep.

“We need to be honest with each other….” Jon said and sighed. He looked at her and his face mellowed. Daenerys looked at him and nodded.

“The gold is ours Jon. For our children.” She said to him. “And I’m sorry I kept it from you and you’re right. We should be honest with each other.”

“We will need to use some of it to feed the people and rebuild the country.” Jon told her.

“I know…” She breathed. The country needed the gold more. 

Daenerys went to embrace him, feeling better as she cuddled closer to his chest while Jon’s arms wrapped around her. She looked up at him, nuzzling his nose with hers and Jon kissed her lips softly. She hated that they had argued. It was just awful. Tyrion had always told her that her dragon temper would get the best of her. 

“I love you…” Daenerys told Jon as she looked up into his deep dark pools. Almost as if she needed reassurances. That he still loved her too. That nothing has changed between them. That he’d love her despite everything and accept her, flaws and all. 

“I know.” Jon responded, holding her close, kissing the top of her silver head. 

I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone this much…You’re the Love of my life Jon Targaryen. You and our children…You’re what I live for.

“You need to sleep Darling…” She said softly and kissed his lips. 

She took his hand and led him to the bed, knowing a technique that was sure to work. Daenerys pushed him softly down on the bed and he smiled at her. She sat on the bed and pulled his head on her lap. She started humming some tune she had heard before, ‘The Bear and the Maiden Fair’ and started running her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp gently. Daenerys heard Jon’s soft snores after a while and she leaned back against the head board watching as her husband slept peacefully, his tired head on her lap.

 


 

Daenerys 

Jon still wore his Stark armour even though he was King of all Seven Kingdoms and a trueborn Targaryen. It seemed strange to most people in court but Daenerys was fine with it. Deep down she knew that Jon still saw himself as a Stark. He was raised in the North by Ned Stark and followed the Old Ways. Something that she never really thought about until Jon brought it up one evening.

“I’m thinking of having a heart tree here in the godswood,” He said suddenly while they were in the King’s chambers, getting ready for bed.

“Oh…” Daenerys uttered. She didn’t know why he had mentioned it but she just smiled and nodded.

“I haven’t prayed in a while. Maybe that’s why my mind’s all over the place…” Jon told her as he changed into his sleeping tunic.

“I could get the High Septon for you if you want.” she said to him. 

“No Dany. Not the Seven, the Old gods. My gods…” Jon replied.

“I’ve talked to the High Septon and he thinks that the boys should have a naming ceremony.” Daenerys said to him.

“But they will be raised in the Old Ways.” Jon said and looked at her.

“What’s wrong with having a naming ceremony?” She asked him.

“Because I’m not in the Faith and my sons will follow me.” Jon explained.

“We never discussed that,” Daenerys told him, surprised and rather annoyed that he seemed to be vetoing everything. And why is he deciding everything the boys do? I carried them inside me for nine months. I went through the pain of childbirth. I feed them from my own breasts.

“We are discussing it now.” Jon told her and the tone in his voice seemed rather short which unnerved her.

“I worship the Old gods and so should my children.” 

“But I worship the Seven.” Daenerys said and took off her robe, wearing a furlined nightdress made of silk and got under the furs in bed. 

“Since when?” Jon looked shocked. “I thought you don’t worship any gods.”

It was true. She had never placed her faith in any gods before but lately, Daenerys felt that there was a higher power that she needed to rely upon especially when it came to her sons. She watched as Jon got into bed.

Jon looked at her and smiled before calmly speaking. “I just think that its better for the boys to follow what their father does. If we have daughters, you can bring them to the Sept if you want to. Lady Stark did that to my sisters while my brothers and I followed our father.”

Daenerys only looked at him, still annoyed that Jon was deflecting the argument. Turning it around and still getting things his way with a smile. Jon then pulled her close and kissed her lips gently, his hands seemed to push her nightdress up at the thighs. She pulled her lips away and leaned against him.

“I’m having my moonblood…” Daenerys said softly. 

“Oh.” He uttered, surprised. 

“The Dothraki handmaidens think that I should sleep in my own chambers when I am running my course.” She said to him. “It will disgust the husband they believe.”

“I wouldn’t want you to sleep away from me,” Jon said and shook his head. He pulled her up and let her rest her head against his chest while Daenerys snuggled close. They would never choose to sleep apart, unless they really have to.

“My late husband used to say that a woman’s moonblood is a smell far worse than death. So I sleep in a separate tent when it comes,” She said to him and sighed. “I welcome it actually. The only time when he won’t force himself on me….” 

Jon held her closer and kissed her forehead when he heard that. She felt him gently caressing her arm.

“Did you love him?” He asked.

Daenerys grew quiet for a while. She thought she did love Drogo. Her late husband was her sun and stars. But that was the past. As the years went by she realised that her love for him was an illusion. Something born out of a necessity to survive the marriage. Daenerys was still so young then but she knows now what real love is. It doesn’t hurt or humiliate you or make you feel worthless. It doesn’t violate your body or your self worth. It doesn’t just take and take but gives selflessly. 

“I thought I did but not anymore…” She replied. 

Daenerys smiled at Jon and kissed him and felt him kissing her back. Suddenly it didn’t matter which gods Jon want their children to worship. The old gods or new ones or even the Lord of Light. It seemed pretty small in the great scheme of things.

 


 

Tyrion

The Hand was surprised to see the Queen in the Small Council meeting. The King looked at everyone and announced that Queen Daenerys will attend the meetings from then on. She looked sparkling and radiant as usual and Tyrion was pleased that she was there. He had missed Daenerys’ presence. Being her Hand and standing by her side during the Great War as her counsel had been one of his greatest privilege. He was also the most vocal in disagreeing that she should let Jon have the throne.

“Why are you doing this?” Tyrion had asked her. 

They were in the Queen’s chambers of Red Keep. The Lannister forces had surrendered three weeks ago and the huge castle had been stripped bare of any remnants of the old regime. Lion sigil banners taken down and the black flag with the red three headed dragon sigil of House Targaryen put in its place.

“The Iron Throne is yours. You fought for it. You lost your dragons for it. Men died for you! Thousands of them! Mormont, Greyworm. Did they die for nothing?!”

“They died so that we can live and now we live. The Great War is won. The Night King is gone and your sister’s forces have surrendered. I’ve done what I needed to do.” Daenerys told him.

“But we still need you! You are our best chance at a better world!”

Daenerys grew quiet and touched her pregnant belly. “My family needs me more. My son and the child I’m carrying. And Jon needs me.”

“You can still rule and have a family Your Grace.” Tyrion told her, exasperated.

“I’m not the true heir Lord Tyrion. The throne is Jon’s. It has always been his. I do not want to usurp what is his right. And he fought in the war and he was the one who killed the Night King. He deserves the throne more than I do.” Daenerys paused and looked out the window, seeing the snow covered buildings of King’s Landing.

“You’re being foolish you know. Giving it all up for love. All you’ve ever wanted and hoped for…” Tyrion told her in a soft murmur.

“I already have what it is I’ve always wanted…” The Queen had said as she stared in the distant.

“To be a mere consort?” He scoffed, shaking his head. After everything both the Hand and the Queen had been through together. She would just give it all up. Maybe a woman’s heart really is too gentle.

“No, to go home…” Daenerys said softly. She let out a sigh and looked at him.

“I hope you will stay as Hand, Lord Tyrion. The King will need your wise counsel.”

Tyrion looked at her and breathed. He could do this he suppose as she had commanded. Be a trustworthy and competent Hand to the King. The Gods know that he would need it. What would Jon Snow No…Jon Targaryen know about the Seven Kingdoms and the Houses and the politics of the land?

Chapter Text

Rhaelle

Something has happened. I can feel it in my bones. The wind is howling and I wake up from my bed except I know that I am still sleeping. This is another one of my dreams. It feels like one of grave portent. I walk down the halls of Red Keep and there is a strange silence filling the air, an eerie kind and it brings a shiver down my spine. At the Throne Room lies a sarcophagus and my heart drops. Tears start streaming down my cheeks. A death is coming. A great death. I see the faces of courtiers all dressed in black, looking solemn as they pay their respects.

I walk down and see my sister wearing a black veil and dressed in a black gown. Lyanna has been crying and she is holding my mother’s hand tightly while Mama sobs uncontrollably and my face falls. Is it Father? Has he died? No…

“Your Grace…” I hear Lord Tyrion’s voice. But he isn’t addressing my mother. 

I look up and see my father, the King standing stoically by the sarcophagus. His face shows nothing but pain and heartbreak. But there are no tears in his eyes. Father places his hand on top of it. And I see the crown, on the stone. A black crown with red rubies that belongs to the Prince of Dragonstone.

“No!!!” I scream. “No!”

No one could hear me of course. They are all silent. I need to tell them! I need to warn my parents! I need to tell someone!

“You can’t Rhaelle…” 

I turn and saw Uncle Bran standing there. He gives me a sad look and shook his head.

“It has already been written. The ink is dry. You know this.” He says. I keep shaking my head, refusing to hear and accept whatever Uncle Bran is saying. No it’s not. It’s just not. There must be a way to change this. To stop it from happening. I can’t just stand idly by.

“No it is not! It hasn’t happened yet! I can stop this! I can save my brother. I have to! Else what is the point of all this?! What is the point of seeing things and not doing a damned thing about them?!” I cry, tears streaming down my face like torrents of rain during a summer storm.

“We are just keepers of time.” Uncle Bran tells me. “We do not change the fates of men.”

“But if I helped to stop the Night King. I can do this too. I can help to stop my brother’s death.”

“He wasn’t meant to live long. He has brought joy in your parents’ lives and lived a good and happy life. He is loved and adored and he will be greatly missed. It is just his time.” Uncle Bran tells me, his voice calm as if he is talking to a child.

“Look at them!” I scream as I point at my parents. “They will never know joy again! They won’t!”

My mother is overwrought with grief, almost falling over even but Aemon moves and pulls her into his arms and she sobs brokenly. Aemon’s melancholic face looks even sadder and there are tears welling up in his eyes. He has lost his brother, his bestfriend and confidante, his own half even. My father stands still but he looks heartbroken, for a father to bury his own son, goes against the laws of nature.

If a child who loses his parents is called an orphan. What do you call someone who loses a child? And Father has already lost too many people who he loves. Mama too. She has lost far too many children than a mother should. This is too cruel. Even for the gods to inflict this unto my parents and my family. Just too cruel…

 


 

Jon

Spring had finally came after a long winter and Jon was pleased. He smiled as his three children were playing in the gardens in the courtyard of Red Keep. The boys were kicking a ball in the grass while little Lyanna was riding on her small white pony, a gift from the Dothraki which the princess loved. She had wanted her own magical unicorn and her mother, the Queen added a horn made out of clay. Lyanna was squealing in delight as the handmaiden held the reins and let the pony trot slowly around.

“They look so happy…” Daenerys said with a contented sigh. 

Jon looked at his wife and pulled her close, kissing her lips. They were sitting on a settee under the shade, watching their little ones.

“They should be…” Jon told her. “They should know nothing but happiness. That is my wish for them.”

Daenerys smiled at him and cuddled closer in his arms. The King felt at peace, winter has gone and his children are growing strong and healthy. The country is beginning to recover and he has his beloved wife by his side. He couldn’t ask for anything more. Jon never thought he could ever feel any more pure bliss than he had at that moment. Even the way the sun shone gently, in warm streams had a golden effect as he watched his children playing happily and hear the peals of their laughter.

“I never thought I’d ever have this. That we would have this.” Daenerys said softly and held his hand, curling it with hers. She brought it to her lips and kissed it firmly.

“None shall take it from us Jon…” She said and turned to look at him. “Promise me.” 

He looked at his wife, seeing all the love and happiness shining in her violet eyes. He knew he would fight the whole world to see it there. 

My Love….I’d go through the fires of hell and even stay there just to make sure you’re safe and happy. That’s all I ever want.

Jon nodded and kissed her lips again, silently promising promises he never knew were hard to keep. But it was a happy, carefree Spring day after a long, hard winter. Spring was when everything was possible and the cycle of life and birth had just started. A promise of good things to come.

 

Chapter Text

Aemon

I wanted to hate my brother for leaving me, for catching the bloody flux, for dying. For going on a stupid expedition East to reclaim some territories in his miscalculated folly he thought were his right to claim. But I can’t hate him. I can’t. I am very angry though. I am furious, with the gods and mostly with myself for not stopping Daeron. I should have done something. Keep him under house arrest in Dragonstone even. I knew that going to the Bay of Dragons was a bad idea. I knew it in my gut but I let my brother lead the way. He was the elder one afterall. 

“What’s the worst that can happen Brother?” He had said with that easy smile as we sailed with a fifth of the Royal Fleet and Drogon flying above.

Five months and we did manage to bring the Bay and its cities to heel. We did not count on the bloody flux though. Even having a mighty black dragon won’t stop an infection. I sailed home with my brother’s corpse, wrapped properly sealed in a stoned sarcophagus. The Meerenese had told me to burn the body immediately but I could not. I had to bring Daeron home and I did. 

My mother cries all day while Father sits in his solar, staring into nothing not wanting to hold court, not speaking to anyone except for Mama, not to his children, not even his Lyanna. I know Father is angry with me. I saw the look on his face during Daeron’s funeral rites. He feels betrayed. I am his son and he is my King and yet I never told him about what my brother had planned till it was too late. This counts as a treasonous act even.

Lyanna tries to comfort my mother but it is of no use. For the pain of losing her beloved son is just too much. Rhaelle has been too quiet as well. She has always been quiet but lately all she does is to stare into the waters of Blackwater Rush. The Hand keeps trying to talk to me. There are many things I need to do. I will now be the heir. I would have laughed. I remember he used to dub me The Spare and now I am to be Prince of Dragonstone, except I do not want it.

I do not want to be King. I never have. I was supposed to be Hand. That was what Daeron had promised me and now he reneges on that promise and I wish I could hate him for it but I can’t. I can never hate my brother, for he is one half of me. And now that he is gone, I will no longer be whole. We have done everything together. Ever since we were babies. There was never any envy or sibling rivalry between us. Daeron never treated me as an inferior just because he was the heir. I am his younger brother and that was all he knew and he loved me and trusted me with his life.

“It will get better your Highness…” The Hand says. I only keep quiet hearing it.

How would he know? His own brother, Jaime Lannister is still alive and well. The same man who slew my grandfather and who almost killed my mother with a spear still lives in Casterly Rock, an old man while my good brother’s diseased body lies cold in a stone sarcophagus, killed too soon and far too young.


 

Aemon

I go to the Queen’s chambers to see my mother like I always do in the afternoons after meeting the Hand. My mother sits there, her eyes puffy from all the tears she cried. She is just staring away. Lyanna is sitting next to her, embroidering while Rhaelle leans against the chair making crowned daisies. My sisters barely left my mother’s side since the funeral. 

“He’s always such a happy baby…” Mama says in a wistful tone. “Laughs all the time…” 

She looks at me and smiles through her tears and I smile back. “Oh Aemon…” She says and I bend down to hug her, squeezing her tight. “My sweet Aemon.”

“Do you remember chasing butterflies with your brother by the river bank?” She asks me and I shake my head. Daeron and I had done too many things together. Far too many silly things for me to remember.

“You were so young then,” Mama says. “Rhaelle isn’t even around yet.” She looks at my fair sister and Rhaelle smiles back at her, trying her best not to look too sad.

“You fell down as I recall and Daeron tried to carry you but of course he couldn’t.” Mama starts to laugh softly. 

“Your father came running, he was so worried for the both of you…” Mama says. “But he was so proud, so proud of his boys. They’ll make fine princes, he always said…” 

Then my mother starts to sob, crying uncontrollably and I hug her.

“Why did you let him go there Aemon? Why?? You’re suppose to look after each other. You’re supposed to…” She wails in despair. She is not blaming me for I know my mother. She is just too stricken with grief, like I am.

“I know Mama…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…” I say to her, feeling far worse than I did before. My mother is right. Daeron is my responsibility just as I was his. 

Rhaelle and Lyanna saw this and they sighed softly. My sisters went to hug Mama as well. Trying to soothe and comfort her. Soon she falls to sleep and I lift her up and carry her to bed. I hear her calling my father’s name in her sleep.

“Jon…”

 

Lyanna, Rhaelle and I sit in the Small Council meeting except the King and Queen are not around. The Hand is there and so is Varys and Ser Davos, already an old man in his seventies. Grand Maester Tarly gives me a small smile. My Aunt Arya rode from the Stormlands to attend the funeral and my father wants her to represent him during the meeting. She is quiet through out, not saying a word .

“I do not wish to be the heir,” I tell the Council and they all look at me in shock.

“I will retain my title as Prince of Summerhall. And when the heir becomes Queen…” I look at Lyanna whose eyes grow wide in disbelief.

“I hope to serve as her Hand.” I continue.

“Prince Aemon I must insist.” Lord Tyrion sounds almost as if I had insulted him.

“You are next in line to the throne, you cannot just hand it over to someone else…” Lord Tyrion says.

“Well actually…” Grand Maester Tarly interrupts the Hand. “There is precedence for it.”

“Aemon Targaryen, Maester of Castle Black and the Nights Watch, whom you were named after your Highness…” He says and looks at me. “He refused the throne and ceded it to his younger brother, Aegon the Fifth.”

“Except that Princess Lyanna is not a younger brother.” Varys chip in. 

“I do not want it and my sister, Lyanna should be the next Princess of Dragonstone..” I tell them and stand up rather abruptly to leave the room much to the chagrin of the council.

“Aemon…” I hear Lyanna calling me but I walk on. Her footsteps grew faster and she held my arm.

“Why are you doing this?” Lyanna pulls my arm and asks me.

“I do not want the throne. I never have,” I tell her and even give a smirk. “Besides you always wanted to be Queen.”

“Not like this!” She cries out. “Not because Daeron is dead. I love him. You think I want this? You think this is what I want?”

I ignore her and walk away. I have no time to deal with anymore tears. I need to take my father’s sword and cut something or someone.

 


 

Jon

It had been almost three months since the Crown Prince’s royal funeral. Everyone in the palace still wore black. There would not be any soirees or banquets for the next few months or so. No tourneys or celebrations would be held as the Heir to the Iron Throne had died. The Queen was taking it harder than most. Losing a son that had grown to adulthood was harder on her than losing her first child Rhaego in her womb, or even when she lost her two dragons. 

She would talk about Daeron all the time. All the things he used to do or say, even his quirks and idiosyncrasies. Her daughters stayed close by her side, dutiful to their mother. The prince’s chambers in Red Keep would be kept as if he was still around even though the prince had been living in Dragonstone for about two years before he passed. Daenerys insisted that his clothes be pressed and put out every day on his bed. Sometimes she would smell Daeron’s shirts and even came across an old stuffed wolf or his baby blanket. It made Daenerys cry even more as she lied in bed and that was where Jon would find her. Lying on their son’s bed while she mourned for him.

“I think this is retribution…” Daenerys said and Jon looked at his wife. Her eyes still wet even though she had stopped crying for a while.

“What are you talking about?” He asked her.

“I sentenced Dickon Tarly to die and he was innocent. All he wanted was to defend his father. Now the gods have punished me and taken my son away. Our son is around the same age as Tarly when Drogon burned him.”

Jon grew quiet as Daenerys continued. “Lord Tyrion tried to warn me but I didn’t listen and look what happens now…”

“You think that maybe Lady Tarly had cursed me Jon?” Daenerys asked him. “I took her son away so mercilessly. I didn’t think about how a mother would feel when I pass the sentence…I didn’t think about anything except for them to bend the knee.”

Tears started rolling down her face and Jon brushed them away and kissed her eyes gently. 

“Dany…” Jon breathed and held his wife closer in bed. “Our son fell ill. It had nothing to do with what you did two decades ago…” He told her reassuringly.

“It hurts Jon…” She said softly. “I never thought it would hurt this bad but it hurts…I keep thinking of how he used to smile when he sleeps in his crib. Do you remember?” 

Jon nodded and kissed her head. He thought of his firstborn sleeping in his crib, nothing could touch Daeron when he was a baby then. He was safe, lying peacefully in the warmth of his wooden crib. It always made Jon feel at ease that his precious baby son was safe and sound. He thought of Daeron as a boy with his mischievous smile and his effervescent energy. He was so different from his brooding and serious father. 

At times, Daeron’s confidence did remind Jon of his late brother, Robb. The prince had a good life, everyone had said. He was loved and adored by many, not one person had anything bad to say about him. The realm went into mourning when the funeral was held. For the beautiful, smiling prince was laid to rest, his sarcophagus lying in the royal sept of Red Keep while they were building a tomb fine enough for the prince in Dragonstone.

He couldn’t cry when his son died. Jon tried to but he couldn’t. He wondered if he knew somehow, in the deep recesses of his mind, that a tragedy was long overdue. Life had been too good for far too long. Too joyful, too content and if anything, Jon knew that it wouldn’t always be that way. But to lose his own son, his flesh and blood, his heir. It still devastated him. The grief made him decide to isolate himself from everyone in court, except for his wife. He would not abandon Daenerys, not when she needed him most. 

“I’m sorry Jon…I am so sorry…” Daenerys said and buried her head in his chest as her tears fell.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I love him Dany, and I miss him too. Everyday. But I’m here my Love and so are our three children. We’re all here. We’ll get through this together as a family.” Jon said softly to her as he wrapped her close in his arms.

 


 

“When his Grace understood that sorrowful heavy tydings, he sent for the Queene saying that he and his Queene would take the painful sorrows together…Then his Grace of true gentle and faithful love, in good hast came and relieved her” - Henry Tudor & Elizabeth of York after Prince Arthur’s death.

 

Chapter Text

Daenerys

They had decided to go for a hunt. It had been planned for quite a while. The woods outside King’s Landing was known to have plenty of game. Now that Spring has arrived, there would be plenty of wildlife coming out of hibernation. The whole royal court would join them. The boys were excited to try out their new arrows and bows made from fine weirwood that Sansa had sent as gifts from Winterfell for her nephews.

“Do you think we’ll get a Stag Mama?” Daeron asked her and she smiled. He sounded so excited. He had been looking forward to the hunt for several days, even practicing his archery with his brother Aemon in the palace’s courtyard. Daeron looked on as his father, the King got down from his horse.

Daenerys smiled as Jon walked to her. He had ridden in front while she and the children sat in the carriage. He pulled her in his arms and kissed her deeply. It left her breathless when they pulled away.

“I missed you…” Jon murmured, nuzzling her face lovingly as he held her.

“You just saw me.” She smiled.

“Aye, in the carriage.” Jon nodded. “But next time you have to ride with me Your Grace…”

“Father Come on…” Daeron called him and Daenerys shook her head.

“You did promise to bring the boys hunting although I did warn you that they are too young.” She said to him and Jon only grinned.

He pulled her in and kissed her again, not caring that there were people there. The courtiers and servants would look away anyway. The court had gotten used the royal couple’s affectionate nature as the years went by. Daenerys remembered how embarrassed she was initially but Jon never did care what anyone thinks.

“Stop kissing her Father!” The prince whined. “We have to go…”

“The boy’s getting too excited,” Jon commented.

He kissed her again and held her face tenderly as she looked at him. I love you, he mouthed and Daenerys did the same. Jon walked away to where their sons were standing with a few courtiers and palace servants carrying spears and quivers filled with arrows.

Daenerys smiled, watching as they got on their horses and rode away. The palace servants had already set up the tents before the royal family arrived. Daenerys and her handmaidens as well as some court ladies could lounge in comfort while they wait for the men to return from the hunt. The nanny carrying Lyanna walked to her and Lyanna opened her arms wanting her mother to carry her. Daenerys took her little daughter into her arms, feeling the weight on her hips.

“You’re getting too heavy Sweetling…” She said and she kissed her daughter’s raven head as Lyanna clung to her, her small arms on her mother’s neck.

“I’m not heavy Mama, I am three…” The princess told her with a pout and Daenerys laughed softly. Don’t grow up so fast my Darling. Let me hold you a bit longer…

She held her daughter and remembered when her dragons were little, how they wanted to cling to her all the time. Tears started to fall when she thought of Viserion and Rhaegal. At least Drogon was alright, safe and growing larger and more formidable everyday.

“Don’t cry Mama…” Lyanna said and touched her mother’s eyes with her fingers. She kissed her mother’s cheek and Daenerys felt better. She had her family, she had Jon and her precious children. All is well.

 


 

 

Lyanna

My mother refuses to eat much. Her grief for my brother has worn her down. She has lost too much weight and the color seems to drain from her once lively violet eyes. She would either lie in her chambers or be in Daeron’s old rooms during the day. Rhaelle and I would keep her company, trying our best to console her. My sister plays the harp to soothe Mama while I embroider dragons and flowers or paint cherubic baby angels for her. She said one of them looked like Daeron and that made her cry even more. At night my father will carry her back into his room where they will console each other.

I haven’t seen my father, His Grace in so long. He retreats to his chamber and solar, not allowing anybody in except for the Hand or my mother and the palace servants of course, but not even me. I miss my father terribly. Sometimes it feels as if I’m left an orphan when Daeron died. Father isn’t around and my mother is not herself. Aemon is always angry these days. My father hasn’t said anything about Aemon’s decision to remain Prince of Summerhall. My father hasn’t said much of anything. And because of that by law, Aemon is the next in line. Since my father, the King isn’t holding court or wanting to rule, as heir, Aemon has the highest authority in the lands and he had recently sought to exercise that authority.

He found out that the Master of Coin had embezzled a vast amount of gold that belongs to the Royal Treasury. Aemon is not a tyrant. But he does value justice greatly. Justice and the law demands for the man to be hanged, drawn, and quartered as stealing from the Crown is akin to Treason, by betraying the King’s trust. So Aemon executed the man as the law demands. Lord Tyrion thought a clean beheading would suffice but Aemon pointed out that the law is the law so the Master of Coin suffered a horrible death and his surviving family stripped off their lands, titles and estates. My father was told about it and he didn’t say anything. I heard from his valet that my father mostly sits by the fire in his robe and stares at it. 

I overheard one of the courtiers speaking to another that a curse has befallen our family. The Seven is punishing my parents and our family for the incest committed by House Targaryen. I don’t know what to believe anymore, what is true and what is not. Maybe we are being punished. Maybe we were just too happy as a family. And happiness isn’t supposed to last. But sorrow won’t last either. I squeeze my mother’s hand as she stares out the window, probably thinking of the son she has lost. I want to tell her that I’m here. That although Daeron is gone, she still has three children alive and who need her.

 

Chapter Text

Jon

The hunt was quite a fruitful one. The boys caught a few quails, rabbits and grouses using their arrows. Wild boars, deer and rabbits were abundant in the forest. Still the stag was something Daeron had wanted and the hunting scouts with their dogs tried hard to track one. When they finally saw it, it was a magnificent creature. A large beast, its brown hide appeared golden in the sun’s rays, its antlers looked like a tall crown on its head. Jon let his son, the Crown Prince to take the first shot. Daeron pulled the bow and just stared it for a while, as if mesmerized.

“Just breathe and let it go…” Jon said softly as he leaned close. Daeron blinked and the arrow flew and hit a tree instead. The Stag heard it and hurried off, realising that it was being watched and hunted.

“We can still spear him Your Grace before he runs away.” One of the servants in the hunting party said and Jon looked at his son.

Daeron shook his head. “Let him go Father…” He said quietly. 

Jon nodded to his son and looked at his men and they placed the spears away.

“It’s alright…” He told Daeron and tapped the boy’s shoulder as they walked away back to their horses. “We’ll get it next time.”

Aemon followed along carrying the rabbits he caught. Jon saw the prince and smiled, pushing him forward as he walked next to his brother. He didn’t want his sons to walk behind him, he needed to see where they always were and keep his eye on them.

“Can we catch some butterflies later Father?” Aemon asked. “We brought our nets with us.”

“Maybe after supper,” Jon said. They rode back to the camp by the river and he smiled seeing his wife and daughter. He got his sons down from their horses before heading to where Daenerys was standing

“The hunt looks good Your Grace…” Daenerys said, looking as the men brought the animals ready to have them washed and cut. Jon smiled at her, pulled her into his arms, kissing her lips that he so missed despite being only hours away from her.

Jon felt someone tugging his sleeve and he looked down, it was Lyanna, wanting her father’s attention as always. He carried the little princess up and she laughed softly as his beard tickled her face. They had a good supper, luxurious by any standards. Meat, fresh from the hunt roasted by the fire, cakes and puddings since the royal cook, Hot Pie had prepared some food and had it delivered to camp. The boys got their nets and started chasing butterflies by the riverbank, their minders watching them from a safe distance.

A commotion happened and Jon stood up from his chair. One of the princes had fallen, stumbling on a rock and cut himself. The King bolted, running to the river and Aemon was crying while Daeron held him. Jon took the boy in his arms and held Daeron’s hand while the servants apologized profusely. It wasn’t a deep cut and a Maester attended to the prince.

“You have to take care of your brother Daeron…” Jon said to the prince when he was in their tent. “He’s the only one you’ve got.”

“I know Father…” Daeron replied, dark eyes looking at Jon and he sighed. He didn’t mean to make the boy feel guilty.

“I tried to carry him but he’s too big for me.” Daeron explained

“Someday you’ll be strong enough to carry him Son, and he’ll carry you too.”

Daeron nodded and lied next to his brother on the cot. Jon watched his sons as they fall to sleep and kissed their heads. He then headed back to his own tent. Daenerys was in bed, Lyanna sleeping soundly next to her.

“She wants to be close to her father.” Daenerys told him as Jon walked closer, bending to kiss her lips and pressing kisses on Lyanna’s face and head. He changed into his sleeping clothes, got into bed and pulled his wife closer to him.

“How were the boys during the hunt?” Daenerys turned to ask him.

“They did well. Caught a few rabbits and grouses. We saw a Stag and Daeron almost got him…” Jon said.

“You can try again tomorrow.” Daenerys said softly, gently rubbing his hand that held her.

“I think Daeron missed the shot on purpose…” Jon said when he realised what happened earlier and breathed.

 


 

Aemon

I watch the Stag from a far, careful as I pull the bow. The hunting party looks on, standing still like stoned statues hiding among the trees and shrubs, afraid to make a move, for fear that any small sounds or movement may scare the animal away. I release the crossbow and watch as the arrow hit the Stag’s neck, wounding him as he starts panicking. A dozen arrows whiz and hit him and someone throw a spear and that was a death knell. The Stag falls to the ground.

“Good hunt Your Highness,” A courtier tells me and I only give a nod. They all know that empty praises and sycophantic smiles won’t work on me, and most refrain from that.

It’s strange to be hunting without my brother. Months has passed, and I have done many things without him. Hunting, sparring, riding, drinking even. It hurts, it still does, like a dull ache in my heart and gut but life does go on. Daeron would probably be annoyed if I had spend all my time moping about and mourning over him. And knowing my brother, he would laugh and shake his head.

So I do that, I think about what Daeron would do or say to me every morning when I wake up to start my day. I break my fast and head to the Sept in the palace where my brother’s sarcophagus lies interred, waiting for his grand tomb to be completed in Dragonstone’s ancient crypt. I stand there for a while just soaking in the silence. I didn’t talk or say anything. It would be silly because no one would be there and the Dead can’t talk back. And I wouldn’t want anyone passing by to assume that I had inherited the Targaryen madness that plagued many of my ancestors in the past. 

Lyanna doesn’t speak to me, still annoyed that I was cold to her and it suits me just fine. Rhaelle will smile at me and speaks to me in that soft dreamlike voice of hers. She tells me of how Mama is doing and that Father still refuses to speak to anyone, other than Mama or the Hand. The Hand acts as an intermediary between my father, the King and I and every morning I will go to his chambers in the Tower of the Hand to meet with him. 

“Your father, His Grace still doesn’t feel well enough to return to court.” Lord Tyrion said and I only nod, hearing it many times before. 

“You will act as Prince Regent for the time being.” He said. “And carry out the responsibilities of the realm as your father, His Grace, King Jon the Great, First of his name…and the list goes on… in the manner that he would want them to.”

“Why not Lyanna?” I asked him. I was getting annoyed by the stalling nature of my father. It has been four months already. He can’t hide in his chambers forever.

“She is not the heir.” Lord Tyrion said, green eyes looking right at me

“I still won’t sit on that ugly chair.” I said, adamantly, grinding my teeth even.

“You know you’re more like him than both of you would ever admit to.” The Hand told me and shook his head.

“Your brother, the gods bless his soul, a perfect, pretty prince that he was, he didn’t have your father’s resolve but you do, Your Highness. ” 

“Is that all?” I asked him, impatient to leave the Tower of the Hand as quickly as I could. I did not need to hear anymore of his pearls of wisdom.

Lord Tyrion gave a nod and I walked off. “Good Luck on the Hunt!” 

I heard him call in a cheerful voice but I didn’t say anything and walked off. I had a Stag to hunt.

 

Chapter Text

Jon

He was insatiable in his need for her. Daenerys was his every waking thought and even in his sleep, he dreams of her. Such torrid, awful, sexual dreams that made Jon feel rather guilty for having them. She was his still his wife after all, the mother of his three children, the Love of his life, his Queen. But there were many things sexual in nature he wanted to do to her. The weather had gotten warmer and Daenerys could finally wear those silk dresses she always loved. Fine things they were and they tear easily, which made Daenerys annoyed because Jon ripped them often, especially when he was in such a hurry to take her clothes off.

“You’re such an animal sometimes…” Daenerys huffed when she picked up the green chiffon silk fabric from the floor. “I loved this dress.” She scowled and showed the torn dress to him.

“I’ll get you more dresses next time my Love.” Jon said as he sat on the bed. She stood there naked, looking terribly vexed, yet terribly desirable as he looked at her. Jon felt himself getting hard

“I just had this made Jon.” She told him and frowned.

“Come back to bed Dany…” Jon called her.

“No.” She shook her head firmly and took her robe. “I need to go back to my chambers and hand this to my handmaidens. They’ll get the dressmaker to mend it.” 

Jon knew he had to do something and got out of bed, quickly catching her before she head out, pulling her in his embrace.

“What are you doing Jon?” She asked him as he clung to her. 

“Don’t go Darling….” He said and kissed her lips. “I still need you.” I’ll always need you…

Daenerys rolled her eyes and sighed. “You’re incorrigible.” 

“Only with you.” Jon said with a smile and that made her laugh softly. 

He kissed her again, deep and needy and she moaned. Jon then knew he had her within his grasp. He’ll do whatever he could to make it all up to her. He started kissing her neck and breasts, sucking on her nipples, eliciting more moans from her as he pampered her breasts. Jon knelt down and started to kiss her mound, his tongue licking her folds, flicking on her clit. That made her gasped, she was holding his head tight against her and Jon grabbed hold of her buttocks, grabbing on the cheeks as he delved in, burying his face between her thighs, ready to worship her cunt.

“Oh the gods Jon…” Daenerys groaned as she held onto him. “What are you doing to me?”

What are you doing to me Daenerys? Making me go crazy with need of you. Haunting my every waking thought and even in my dreams. 

When she finally climaxed and had grown restless, he carried her back to the bed, and made love to her again and again. They fell to sleep again and Jon woke up seeing her dressed in her robe staring out into the terrace and gardens below with a view of Blackwater Rush. Jon got out of bed and pulled her into his arms, letting Daenerys leaned back against his chest. She turned her head and he kissed her sweetly as he held her. 

“I went to see the children while you were asleep. They missed their father. I told them you were feeling a bit dizzy.”

He smiled hearing that. She was such a good, doting mother to their little ones. 

“We’ll have supper with them later.” Jon spoke and breathed, holding her close in his arms, smelling the scent of her hair. 

They looked down at the terrace gardens and saw the gardeners placing mid sized lemon trees into the dug out soil. Daenerys saw that there were more lemon trees than before. She turned and smiled at Jon, tears welling in her eyes when she realised. 

“Oh Jon…what did you do?” She asked him, her voice had gone all soft and mellow.

“I told the Master Gardener to plant more lemon trees where the Queen can see them because she loves lemon trees. And they’ll paint the palace doors in the royal apartments red too.” He looked at his wife and brushed her tears away.

“Are you happy Dany?” He asked her.

“Of course I am…l am so very happy.” She replied and moved to kiss his lips. He kissed her sweet and gently. His precious Wife, the Queen of his heart, Love of his life.

“Good.” Jon nodded and hugged her. “I just want to make you happy my Love. Now and always…”


 

Tyrion

The Queen was with child again and His Grace, King Jon was extremely pleased when his good friend, Grand Maester Samwell Tarly told him the news. The realm would soon welcome a new prince or princess. The Hand smiled to himself as he walked down the courtyard. The gardeners were busy pruning the lemon trees that the King had ordered to have them planted all over the palace. He wanted that for his beloved Queen. It was her favourite, he had said. And all the doors in the royal apartments of Maegor’s Holdfast were painted a bright red to remind the Queen of that house she once lived in Braavos when she was a child. The King ordered yards of silk of various colours to be brought in from the Free Cities so that his wife could have all the silk dresses she wanted. 

The King was a frugal man, quite the penny pincher even, but he spared no expense when it came to his wife. Spoiling her with luxurious gifts. Tyrion saw the accounts, and his eyes widened. Jewelry with precious gems and silk dresses and robes made out of fine lace. It was as if the King was spending gold on a mistress instead of a wife he had been married to for almost ten years. Tyrion had always thought that Jon Snow or wait Targaryen now was a dour, brooding man who would never spend frivolously on a woman. Guess he was wrong…

The Hand walked into the King’s solar and he realised that His Grace was in a chirpy mood. 

“Your Grace…” He greeted and bowed.

“Aaah Lord Tyrion, can you tell the Cook to make more strawberry tarts and honeyed fig puddings for the Queen. Her Grace enjoys it very much..” Jon told him.

“Well, I will let the Lord Chamberlain know.” Tyrion said with a rather awkward smile.

“And have more of that chiffon silk brought in. She wants more dresses…” the King continued with a smile.

“Yes of course…” Tyrion almost wanted to roll his eyes. This was beginning to be a bit too much.

“I want her to be comfortable now that she is with child again.” Jon said and Tyrion nodded.

“We all do…” The Hand spoke.

“And where can we get the best perfume? Her Grace wants more of that jasmine bath oil…” Jon said to Tyrion. “She likes the rose ones too.”

“I think they are from Meereen Your Grace.” Tyrion informed him. How the fuck would I know? He had wanted to snap at the King but decided against it and breathed in deeply. “I will tell the Lord Chamberlain to get those too when the stewards go to the market.”

“Yes…” Jon nodded, smiling to himself. “We must keep the Queen happy Lord Tyrion…”

“Is there anything else Your Grace?” The Hand asked. “Or can we now get into the more important state matters at hand?” Tyrion didn’t bother hiding the sarcasm in his voice.

Jon heard that and gave a frown. “The Queen’s well being and happiness is very important too.”

“Of course it is,” Tyrion said and gave a terse smile back to the King. Happy wife, happy lifeHappy Queen, happy King.

 


 

Jon

He smiled seeing his Queen at ease, relaxing on her chaise lounge while the handmaidens fed her grapes and fanned her. She should always know comfort. She should always be happy. Jon knew Daenerys’ life hadn’t always been easy. Her childhood was even worse than his own. Growing up as highborn Bastard of a Lord wasn’t as difficult as a penniless, exiled princess whose father had been overthrown. 

Daenerys had told him about her childhood during their many nights, lying in bed together, when they just talked about the past. The times when her brother had to beg for food or even a place for them to stay. It had gotten worse when their benefactor died and the servants kicked them out of that house with the red door in Braavos. Jon was determined that his wife would never know hardship again. He was King of the Seven Kingdoms after all, making her happy was within his power and control. 

The King knew the Hand frowned upon the expenditures made for the Queen but Jon made sure it wasn’t as extravagant as Cersei Lannister’s had been and he didn’t really need much. The children still had the finest clothes and all the toys and books they could ever want. They had the best teachers in the Grand Maester, his good friend Samwell and Missandei who was also very good in teaching languages, poetry and many subjects. The boys had the Hound to teach them swords skills and even Ser Podrick Payne, now a knight who had once squired for Lady Brienne of Tarth. Jon had considered himself quite frugal but he couldn’t help himself when it came to his Queen. Daenerys should get the best of everything. She deserves the best.

Varys had told him, that the spending wasn’t even half as bad as Robert Baratheon’s royal household had been, almost bankrupting the realm. And the debt owed to the Iron Bank would soon be settled, after almost a decade of repayments. Jon knew that the Royal coffers still had gold and that it was increasing and there was still the gold in Dragonstone. Gold that his wife had brought with her when she left the Bay of Dragons.

“My Love…” He smiled and bend to kiss her lips while she lied on the chaise lounge, her belly round with their child inside. Daenerys held his face gently. 

“I think we may have a little girl this time,” She said with a happy smile and held her belly, rubbing it gently.

“Lyanna will be pleased. She’ll finally have a sister,” Jon said and sat down. 

He thought of his daughter, his sweet, feisty Lyanna, the apple of his eye. Parents shouldn’t have favourites. But Jon couldn’t help it. Lyanna was his first and only daughter then, although that would soon change, and fathers have soft spots for their little girls. He remembered how his father Ned Stark adored his sisters. 

“Where have you been all day Darling? I’ve missed you.” Daenerys asked, looking at Jon with tenderness in her violet eyes that he so adored.

“Small Council meeting, and the boys were practicing archery in the courtyard so I joined them for a while…” He sighed. “They want to go hunting again.”

Jon smiled and reached out grasping her hand, squeezing it gently. “But I’m here now…”

 

Chapter Text

Daenerys

There was a new courtier in Red Keep. A beautiful one, apparently she was the bastard sister of Edric Dayne named Alanna Sand, who had dark hair and lively violet eyes. She was a known flirt and many men in court were entranced by her. Daenerys had heard her Dothraki handmaidens gossiping about it. They said that the men in court were all in love with Lady Alanna. 

“I think she is a witch Khaleesi, you have to beware of her. I see how the men all turn and look at her whenever she walks by…” the Dothraki lady, Jhiqui had said.

“You best not let her get close to the King…even the Dothraki bloodriders who see her lust for her.”

Daenerys laughed hearing it. Why would her Jon ever look at another woman?He only had eyes for her. And he had always been faithful so she never thought much of it. Then of course, the Queen finally met the woman. And Alanna was very beautiful and young, only nineteen to her thirty years and four. She saw how the young men in court floated about Alanna and the older men watching her with lecherous eyes. Even Daeron who was only nine seemed like he was in love with her.

“I think I’m going to make Lady Alanna my wife one day. She is so beautiful.” Daeron said while they were eating that morning breaking their fast.

“But she’s a Bastard. I don’t think you can marry her. You’re the Crown Prince,” Aemon said to his brother, not really thinking about it. “Lord Tyrion says you need to marry a highborn from a Great House or a foreign princess.”

Daenerys and Jon stared at their son giving Aemon an admonishing look.

“I am sorry Mama, Father. Did I say something wrong?” Aemon asked, looking all broody.

“There’s nothing wrong with Lady Alanna Aemon.” Daenerys said with a smile. “Your brother can marry whover he wants to.”

“So can I be betrothed to her now?” Daeron asked, sounding even more excited for that than going for a hunt.

“Er…” Jon looked at Daenerys. “You’re still too young Son…”

“But Mama says…” Daeron spoke and looked at her.

“Maybe when you’re older…” Daenerys said to the boy and Daeron nodded.

“I think Lady Alanna is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” Daeron said with a wide smile.

And because the prince liked Lady Sand so much. She was always around in Maegor’s Holdfast, attaching herself to the Crown Prince’s household. Daenerys watched Daeron and Alanna practicing their archery in the court yard from the balcony. She saw Jon walking towards them and they were talking. Alanna was smiling at the King with that sweet smile. The way her lashes fluttered and Daenerys started to feel that teeny rage of a green eyed monster simmering inside her. She grew annoyed, a frown marring her beautiful face. 

That young tart…How dare she looks at my Wolf. I’ll fucking gouge her eyes out if she looks at him that way again.

What she saw next made Daenerys boiling mad. Alanna was talking to the King, flirting even and Jon started to help her with her position and how to properly hold a bow while shooting the arrow. Daenerys even gasped in disbelief. Was Jon like all the men, too mesmerized by Alanna’s beauty as well? Daenerys was starting to worry when she never had before.

“I told you Khaleesi…” Jhiqui said quietly to her. “That woman is a witch.”

 


 

Daenerys

She was six months along with her fourth child with Jon and Daenerys was so grateful that the baby wasn’t as fussy as Lyanna had been when she was carrying her. Still even with a calm baby inside, the Dragon Queen’s fire couldn’t be restrained. She knew the only way to ensure that Jon would never stray was to satisfy him in bed. She’d wear her silk robe not tying it of course, all her other night dresses wouldn’t fit.

Jon smiled as he saw her on the bed, the silk robe never quite hide anything. Daenerys looked at him and smiled. “I can’t find anything that fits anymore.”

“You should just be naked Dany…” He said and moved to the bed. Jon crawled to her and kissed her lips, trailing kisses down her breasts and her round belly. He lied on the bed and pulled her close and Daenerys was surprised, thinking that they would have sex.

“Jon…” She called him. He had already closed his eyes. “Jon…” She shook his arm.

“What is it Darling?” He asked her, sounding sleepy.

“Are we not going to make love?” Daenerys asked

“I’m really in need of sleep my Love and you should rest too.” He told her.

That’s odd…Daenerys thought. He never… She looked at him and saw that Jon was already fast asleep, snoring even. Daenerys sighed and touched his face gently. He looked so tired. Jon probably had a heavy day as King.

“Good night my Sweet…” Daenerys whispered and kissed his lips. “Dream of me…”

She lied in bed and watched him sleep for while before her eyes gave in and closed for the day.

 

Daenerys woke up the next day not realizing it was almost noon. Her handmaidens waited on her and drew her a bath. She relaxed as they massaged her shoulders and back and added the jasmine bath oils as well as fresh goats milk to soften her skin.

“Where is the King?” She asked her ladies, suddenly wondering about her husband’s whereabouts.

The handmaidens looked at each other not knowing what to say. Daenerys looked at them wondering what the hell was going on.

“Where is my husband?” She repeated the question quite angrily.

“He went to the poisoned water, sailing Khaleesi with…” Jhiqui said and suddenly kept quiet

“With who??” Daenerys demanded. Sailing? Jon doesn’t sail. 

“With that woman…Khaleesi, the Witch…”

Daenerys immediately rose and the handmaiden gave her a long robe. She didn’t bother to dress and wore the robe, tying it and headed out of her chambers. Her handmaidens followed her and the Queensguards who were stationed outside at all times. Daenerys hurried down the stairs. 

She saw her daughter, Lyanna playing with dolls in the courtyard with her nanny watching, calling her. “Mama…Play with me Mama, play with me…”

“Jhiqui carry the Princess and bring her along.” Daenerys told the woman and she did as she was told. They walked further out to the palace’s pier and Daenerys saw the royal barge that had just docked. 

She saw Jon and her sons, the Hand was there as well as Varys and a few courtiers and of course Lady Alanna who was smiling and talking with the Lord Chamberlain and the King. Daenerys couldn’t take it anymore. No one takes what is hers. No one, especially not some young tart from Dorne. 

The princes saw their mother and ran to her, excited to tell her about the morning they had spent sailing. 

“Mama…you should have sailed with us…It was stupendous!” Aemon was saying, but she couldn’t hear anything. All Daenerys was thinking about, was how she wanted to tear the perfect hair from Alanna’s pretty little scalp.


 

Jon

He smiled when he saw his wife standing at the pier, a little surprised that she was wearing a silk robe outside. Jon had wanted to wake her up but she was sleeping so peacefully. Daeron was excited to ride the new royal barge and some of the courtiers came along. His boys ran to their mother but Daenerys didn’t look pleased at all. In fact, she was furious and Jon wondered why. He could never predict what would happen next. 

His wife, the pregnant Queen marched straight into the crowd of maybe a dozen or so people in court, all who had accompanied the King in the royal barge and all of a sudden, she struck Alanna Sand right smack in the face. Everyone gasped seeing it. The Queen had so violently struck a lady of the court. Even the princes stared at their mother. Jon was too stunned to react while Alanna covered her face and started crying.

“Don’t you touch him!” Daenerys screeched. “I will burn you I swear it! My dragon will burn you and your entire House down, if you so much as look at the King again!”

“Your Grace!” The Hand called her, appalled by what was happening. Jon then went to his wife and pulled her into his arms. 

“Dany what is going on?” He whispered harshly in her ear.

“I don’t want her in court Jon! Send her away! I don’t want her here! I don’t want her around you!” She screamed hysterically. 

“Alright…alright…” Jon sighed. He looked at everyone there and ordered them to leave and for the boys’ governess and Lyanna’s nanny to bring the children back to their rooms. 

When they were back in his chambers. Jon looked at his wife who was sitting on the sofa, still huffing, her arms crossed.

“What is wrong with you Dany? What possessed you to strike the poor girl?” He asked her.

“And what possessed you to have an affair?!” She screamed back.

“What?” Jon blinked when he heard that. What is Daenerys even talking bout?

“I know you’re seeing her behind my back! I saw the looks between you two! I won’t have it Jon! I won’t! If you ever love another or take another lover, I will kill that woman do you understand me? I will kill her!” She screamed.

“You’re being ridiculous!” He cried out. “There is nothing going on between me and her. I’m not having an affair with anyone other than you…” 

Jon laughed at how ridiculous the entire thing was and Daenerys only stared at him, glaring angrily.

“The girl is the Lord Chamberlain’s mistress Dany not mine…” Jon told her and shook his head, chuckling softly.

Daenerys just looked at him a little lost when he said that. He sighed and pulled his wife into his arms, leaning his head against her forehead.

“You drive me crazy Wife…” Jon said and kissed her lips. “Accusing me of having an affair when you’re the only woman in my life…”

“Your fiery temper for the whole court to see, in front of our children no less…” He continued and shook his head.

She sighed and relaxed in his arms. “They will think that their mother is crazy…” Daenerys said softly. “The Mad Dragon Queen.”

“The jealous Mad Dragon Queen…” Jon added with a teasing smile. 

Jon looked at his wife, sighing as he stared at her beautiful face. How can any other woman catch his eye when he wakes up and Daenerys’ face is the first thing he sees every morning and last thing he would see before he falls to sleep at night. No other woman held his heart in her hands.

Daenerys suddenly turned red with embarrassment. “I guess I should apologize to her.” She said awkwardly and bit her lip. “Maybe I’ll send a few silk dresses or a jewelry or two…”

“Yes and everyone in court will think that I’m really having an affair with her if she’s wearing the Queen’s dresses and jewelry…” Jon said wryly, shaking his head

“I think I love you too much Jon.” Daenerys said and looked deeply into his eyes. “The thought of you with someone else just boils my blood. I can’t even think anymore. All I see is red.”

“I love you the same way too.” He said with a smile. “I’ll chop the head of any man who looks at you twice…” Jon joked and that made Daenerys laughed

“That explains a lot now that you’ve mentioned it.” She said.

 

Chapter Text


Jon

He had never been this fearful in his entire life. Even the Night King and the army of the dead didn’t scare him half as much as the thought of losing the Love of his life. Daenerys had been in labour for hours. There was a complication Sam had said. They needed to turn the baby who was in breech. Jon looked at his wife thrashing in the bed. Daenerys was sweating terribly, groaning in pain, screaming even.

“We can’t save them both….” The Grand Maester said to the King. Sam looked so tired, ragged even. He had been up all night with the midwives and a few Maesters. The Queen had started to bleed and that had taken a turn for the worse.

“Your Grace you have to choose…”

“I can’t!” Jon almost screamed, Tears welling up in his eyes. It flowed down and Jon didn’t bother to wipe them away. All he cared about right then was his wife and her perilous condition.

“Jon,” Sam called him softly. Jon looked at his old friend. Sam was more like a brother to him. He saw the look in Sam’s sad eyes and Jon felt the pain, it was far worse than being stabbed in the heart.

“Save them Sam…You’re the only one who can. I can’t lose my wife…” Jon begged. Daenerys let out a painful cry and Jon rushed to his wife’s side. He knelt by the bed and took her hand, clasping it tight.

“It’s going to be fine my Love…you’re going to be alright…” He said gently to her. The midwives were trying to turn the baby and Daenerys groaned in pain.

“Save the baby Jon…” She said to him. She was so pale, he had never seen Daenerys this pale before. He grew fearful and clutched her hands tight. You cannot leave me, my Love…How am I suppose to go on without you?

“Promise me you’ll save the child Jon…” Daenerys told him, her voice had gotten weak

Just save my wife….I beg you Old gods who I have worshipped all my life. If you have to take a life away. Let it not be my Love. Let her live…Let her live…

The child finally came out, pulled out legs first. It was a miracle she was still breathing. The baby had fine silver hair and violet eyes. Jon held her in his arms. She was a beautiful thing, with delicate features like that of her mother. He looked at his wife, still lying unconscious as the midwives stitched her up. Her body was burning up and they placed cooling cloths on forehead. The midwives sighed and shook their heads as they looked at each other, knowing from experience that it probably wouldn’t end well for the Queen. Childbed fever was deadly.

Even Sam wasn’t so hopeful. He had made a poultice out of garlic, elderberry and honey. It could help cure the infection. The Queen needed medicinal hot broths fed to her every four hours. And her wounds needed to be inspected and the gauze changed. Sam had ordered the Queen’s room to be disinfected with soap and quicklime. He had always been careful to wash his hands with soap and clean water when treating his patients, the midwives and their assistants followed as well. Archmaester Ebrose had always said that many diseases could have been prevented if people actually washed more. Now all they could do was wait.


 

Jon

Jon never left his wife’s side. He sat on the armchair by the bed, just watching her, waiting for Daenerys to open her eyes. His children slept in the sitting room next to the Queen’s chambers, waiting for their Mama as well. Everything else was put on hold. The Hand, Lord Tyrion would be acting regent. Daenerys’ fever broke on the the third night. The worse was over and everyone was relieved. The Queen would need time to recover. He smiled when he saw that his wife had woken up. It had been almost a week.

“Jon?” Daenerys called him softly, sounding surprised that he was there. But where else would he be?

“My Love…” Jon said and bend to kiss her lips sweetly.

“Where is the baby?” She asked him. Daenerys looked worried.

“She’s fine Darling. She’s with the wetnurse. I’ll get her for you…” He said reassuringly. He looked at his personal valet who was by the door and gave a nod. The man left and Jon held Daenerys’ hand, kissing it sweetly.

“I had a strange dream,” Daenerys said and gave him a smile. Jon smiled back and squeezed her hand lightly.

“What’s it about?” Jon asked her, almost wanting to cry. He was just so thankful she was alright. That Daenerys had survived.

“I was a little girl playing in the garden. In that house in Braavos.”

“The one with the lemon tree and the red door?” He asked her and Daenerys nodded.

“It’s not really a dream but more like an old memory. There was someone else there Jon.” Daenerys told him. “This lovely tall girl, she looks like me. She was there. She smiled at me and then she was gone. She looked like an angel…”

“Maybe she was just watching over you…” Jon said and gently caressed her cheek.

There was a knock on the door and the wetnurse came in. Daenery tried to sit up in bed and Jon helped her, placing pillows behind her back. The wetnurse gently handed the baby over to the Queen.

“She’s so beautiful Jon…” Daenerys said as she held her baby daughter, tears in her eyes. Jon watched as Daenerys gently kissed the baby’s forehead.

“She is…” He said, breathing deeply. His wife was alive and so was his child. All is well in the world. All is well.


 

Daenerys 

They hadn’t made love in four months. The longest time ever. The Grand Maester came to see her in the Queen’s chambers that afternoon as she eagerly awaited the news. Daenerys was with her handmaidens when Sam was examining her. Her baby Rhaelle was fast asleep in the wooden bassinet. Lyanna was happily playing with her dolls in the sitting room next to the bedroom. The Grand Maester Samwell Tarly was an awkward fellow, quite lumbering at times when he moved but Jon liked him terribly and they were friends for so long. If the King trusted him, Daenerys guessed she had no reasons not to.

Daenerys sighed as the Grand Maester inspected her. Her handmaidens looked on as well. 

“Does it hurt when you move Your Grace?” He asked her.

“No.” She replied. “And I’m perfectly fine.”

He gave a nod and covered the Queen’s bottom half. “I think you’ve healed.” Sam said with a smile.

“So does this mean I can share a bed with the King now? As man and wife?” Daenerys asked him

“Oh…” Sam uttered and looked at the Queen. 

“Maybe it’s best you wait another month or two?” He said and Daenerys didn’t like hearing it.

“What?!” Daenerys almost screamed and Sam was taken aback by it. Another month? Or two??

“Yes Your Grace…Your labour was most difficult and you need to rest. Your body needs to rest.” Sam informed her

“But you said that I’ve healed. My confinement period is usually three months Grand Maester. I would know this because I gave birth to three healthy babies before my fourth child. A hundred days of rest at most.” She grew irate. “This is far too long!”

Sam just looked at her, not knowing what to say. Daenerys scowled at him before speaking in that Queenly tone of hers.

“You will tell the King that I have healed. That I am strong and healthy and that it is safe for him to continue marital relations. His duty even, for I am his lawful wife.”

 

She was asleep when she felt someone getting in the bed. Daenerys turned and smiled when she saw that it was Jon. He had came to the Queen’s chamber, seeking her out. Jon bend to kiss her lips gently and pulled her towards him, letting her rest on his chest.

“I’ve missed this…” Daenerys sighed, loving that he was there. That she could rest in his arms again.

“I’ve missed this too.” Jon told her and kissed her brow.

“I miss my Wolf, my sweet Northern Wolf…” Daenerys said and snuggled closer, kissing his chest. Jon’s warmth was so inviting. She wanted to bury herself in it if she could. Three months, no four, without him in her bed was torture. They belonged together, with each other. 

“We should wait Dany…” Jon told her, gently running his hands down her back. Both of them were still dressed in their sleeping clothes.

“It’s been so long Jon…” She said to him softly.

“I know…but I don’t want to lose you…” Jon told her and that made her sigh.

“You won’t. I’m here Jon. I won’t leave you.” Daenerys said and looked up at his face.

“You almost died Dany…” Jon told her, his eyes looking at her tenderly. “I can’t lose you, you know that. I don’t know what I’d do if you hadn’t survive.”

She grew quiet and just let her husband hold her that night. Daenerys didn’t know what she would do either if Jon dies. Could she go on? She had to, for the children. The children were very important. She had to be strong for them.

 

Chapter Text

Aemon

I sit on the wooden chair next to the Iron Throne when I meet with audience in court. I don’t want to sit on the throne even though the Hand insisted. It feels wrong, as if I had usurped my father’s place when the throne is the last thing I would ever want. My father, the King has taken my mother and headed North weeks ago, riding on Drogon. He needed to go home, was what the Hand said. 

Home? Father has been living in Red Keep for more than twenty years. How can any other place be home to him? My siblings and I grew up in this castle. This is our home. Father rule the realm from King’s Landing and yet the North is where he feels he belongs. My mother never like it there. Winterfell is too cold and the castle feels imposing to her. I remember how glum she was whenever we went up North to visit our Stark relatives. 

So while my parents, the King and Queen journeyed North, I will have to rule in the King’s stead. To hold court, meet the nobles and smallfolk. Lyanna and Rhaelle have stayed behind as well. I have decided to include them in the Small Council and they sit in for most meetings. It is important for House Targaryen to stand together. Daeron is gone but we’re still here. I know that there are talks fluttering about in court that I will take both my sisters as wives when I become King and carry on the Targaryen tradition of dynastic incest. 

I can’t even stomach the thought. My father raised both Daeron and I in the Old Ways. I worship the Old gods of the First Men, same gods my father worships. Incest is a grave sin in their eyes. I know that my parents are related by blood. I’ve known that all my life. It was something Father and Mama never spoke about. They just said that they had fallen in love, never knowing about their blood relations and they got married and had my brother and all the rest of us came afterwards. A simple love story. Of course as I grow older, I realised that like many things in life, it was much more complicated.


“Your Highness…” 

I turn to look at the Hand who is addressing me. My thoughts has ran away again. Brooding too much, as Daeron would say.

“Lady Catelyn of House Stark and Hornwood…” The Hand says.

I look down and there is a beautiful redhaired young lady approaching, dressed in a cream silk dress. It is my cousin Catelyn who is my Aunt Sansa’s only daughter. We all call her Lynnie because Cate was what people called her late grandmother and maybe Aunt Sansa didn’t want anyone to confuse the two Catelyns. I hadn’t seen Lynnie in quite a while. She has grown more beautiful, tall and serene with a soft smile and bright blue eyes. Rhaelle and Lyanna come running down the steps to greet her with hugs. They are all happy that she is here. I am surprised myself, I didn’t know that she is coming to visit. Lynnie then looks at me and gives a bow.

“Your Highness…” She says with a smile that I suddenly find enchanting. I smile back at her.

“What brings you to the Capital Cousin?” I ask her.

Lynnie looks at me a little confused and then at her Hornwood relatives who had accompanied her in the Throne Room. They all look stunned as well. Lord Tyrion suddenly clears his throat. “The wedding Your Highness…” He whispers in my ear.

“Wedding?” I ask him softly.

“Yes Lady Catelyn is to be married soon,” Lord Tyrion mentions.

“Oh…” I nod and look at my cousin. 

“Congratulations Lynnie…” I say to her and she gives me an odd look.

I am surprised when I hear that. Lynnie is very beautiful, I should have known that she will marry soon. But I remember she was betrothed to wed my brother. Some arrangement my father had made with Aunt Sansa years ago. For her daughter to wed the heir. It wasn’t made official because they were still children then. Except now that Daeron has died, Lynnie will probably marry a Lord of a Great House.

“She will be marrying you, Your Highness in a month’s time…” Lord Tyrion says quietly. 

And suddenly it makes sense why my parents left for Winterfell weeks ago. To honour the betrothal agreement made years ago with the Starks and the Hornwoods.


Daenerys

She hated traveling up North. The weather was often so cold and dreary even in the summer. It was much worse in Winter. Daenerys would know. She had given birth to her son during one of the worst snowstorms in recorded history the Maester Wolkan had said. The Northerners still gave her dirty looks. She was the Targaryen whore who had stolen their King, taken him South and put him in that ugly, accursed chair. Daenerys sighed as she looked at the fireplace. 

Jon and Sansa had signed on the agreement earlier in the day and stamped both their seals. Daenerys’ precious twelve year old son, the Prince of Dragonstone, the heir to the Iron Throne would now be betrothed to Sansa’s seven year old daughter, Catelyn. Sansa looked pleased. Daenerys knew her sister in law was an ambitious woman. Sansa would have been Queen for she had been once engaged to marry Joffrey Baratheon but circumstances changed and now her own daughter will be a future Queen, forever tying the Starks and Targaryens, North and South. 

Sansa married Evan Hornwood after the Great War. Evan was a cousin of the Lord of Hornwood. He didn’t have much lands or titles, just a small estate and a few hundred acres. The marriage suited Sansa just fine because Evan was handsome and kind and he didn’t mind that his children with her would be more Stark than Hornwood. Daenerys had realised that both the Stark sisters had chosen to marry or partner with less domineering men. Maybe it was a Stark trait to lord over their spouses, just as Jon did with her. Sansa had three children whom she named after her late family members. Robb the eldest a red haired and brown eyed boy, Catelyn who look like her mother and Rickon who had his father’s brown hair and green eyes.

The betrothal between Daeron and Catelyn would please many of the Northern Houses Daenerys was sure. They still saw Jon as King in the North and a Stark. Most still don’t believe that he is a Targaryen. It was a lie and a conspiracy, something the Dragon Queen and her imp had made up to bring him South with them. Jon is as Stark as they come. People of the North said he resembled Lord Rickard when he was a young man. The same grandfather who was burned to death by Jon’s other grandfather the Mad King. The irony wasn’t lost on Daenerys.

“You’re not sleeping yet?” Jon asked her when he got into their room. Daenerys sighed and looked at her husband.

“Are you sure this betrothal is the right thing to do Jon?” She asked him.

Jon nodded and sat on the bed beside her. “We can finally lay the matter to rest. Stark and Targaryen bound together.”

“She is a Hornwood.” Daenerys mentioned.

“My sister is Wardeness of the North and Lady of Winterfell. Her son Robb will be Lord of Winterfell. House Stark line will still go on, it has to.” Jon explained.

“Are you doing this because you feel guilty for leaving the North?” Daenerys asked him.

Jon was quiet for a while. “My place is with you Dany, you know that.”

They got in bed that night, too tired to make love or maybe Daenerys just didn’t feel like it. She thought of her children. The four of them in King’s Landing, left in the safe confines of Red Keep. Jon had promised Sansa that he would bring the children along during their next visit North. Daenerys only kept quiet when he said that while they were dining in Winterfell’s Great Hall. Even though she disagreed, it wouldn’t be right to show that in public. She could never undermine her husband the King. 

This is what you agreed upon, a voice inside her said. You gave up the throne and therefore any power. Now you’re just his wife, the Queen consort who’s only function is to breed heirs…

Shut up…Daenerys wanted to snap. She looked around the room and realised that it was nothing. Just the howling wind from the slightly ajar window while her husband, the King slept peacefully beside her. She snuggled closer to Jon, arms wrapped around him.

 

 

 

Chapter Text

Tyrion.

The Hand was annoyed. Varys had reported on what had happened in the Throne Room a few nights ago. Except it wasn’t even night when it happened. The sun hadn’t set yet when the King and Queen were heard groaning and grunting, fucking like rabbits on the Iron Throne. They could have been caught and indeed, one of the servant girls accidentally had a peep and she was threatened and bribed not to even make a squeak about it to anyone.

“Even my sister never did something sooo…” Tyrion tried to find the right word for it that wouldn’t sound too outrageous.

“Scandalous?” Varys added and Tyrion shook his head. The Hand poured himself some of the Arbor red and drank his wine.

“If the Queen could get pregnant again, she probably would have, twice over but the Grand Maester has said that it is impossible now…” Varys said and sighed. 

Tyrion grew quiet. After Princess Rhaelle’s difficult birth, the Queen’s womb just couldn’t carry anymore children. The royal couple tried vigorously to conceive again but nothing came out of it.

Varys then looked at the Hand. “Are you going to tell him?”

“He is King, he won’t listen to me telling him not to fuck his wife on the Iron Throne…” Tyrion lamented. 

Besides…I’m not going to be the one to take away his only form of indulgence, his only vice, if fucking one’s wife so passionately can be seen as one…The Hand thought to himself

“Yes…” Varys nodded. “He can be very stubborn. Starks often are….”

“He is not a Stark.” Tyrion corrected his old friend.

“The King still wears his Northern clothes and armour, he had a weirwood tree brought down all the way from the North to worship the Old gods. He teaches the royal princes the Old Ways and you say he’s not a Stark…” Varys spoke and shook his head.

They heard the children playing in the courtyard and they looked down. Prince Daeron was pushing both his sisters on the large swing that hung from the tree branch. Tyrion smiled seeing that. The children were happy, even the often brooding golden haired Prince Aemon was smiling. 

“I never thought I would hear children’s laughter in the palace again after your sister’s children.” Varys commented. 

“They won’t be children for long. They’ll grow up and things will change.” Tyrion sighed. 

But that would take years. For now, let the children have their joy, The Hand thought. The innocence of childhood was just too precious. He suddenly remembered his niece and nephews when they were children. How he had loved and adored them. Well except for Joffrey. No one could love Joffrey other than his own mother.

 


Lyanna

My brother Aemon is to wed our cousin Catelyn Hornwood Stark. I always find it strange that Lynnie carries her mother’s family name instead of her father’s but Aunt Sansa is a Lady of a Great House and the Hornwoods are loyal vassals to the Starks. Her husband, Evan Hornwood is a handsome, kind and gentle man. He doesn’t talk much and seems happy spending his days carving wood in his workshop. He made beautifully carved bows for my brothers and even carved the baby bassinet for Rhaelle when she was born, a gift sent from Winterfell. 

Lynnie is different from her mother and takes after her father’s joyful nature. She’s always smiling and laughing while Aunt Sansa is serious and contemplative. I admire my aunt as a child. She is a great Lady and she rules The North for my father as its Wardeness. I know that Aunt Sansa was instrumental in winning the Battle of Winterfell when she called the Knights of the Vale to fight for her. 

My brother’s wedding will take place soon and yet my parents have absconded to Dragonstone. I hadn’t seen my father except when he was leaving the palace, heading to Winterfell. I looked out my window and watched him as he helped Mama up the carriage. They rode to the fields outside the city walls where Drogon would swoop down from the sky and carry them North. Father turned and looked at me and I waved at him. I saw a small smile on his face and that had made me happy for days. Aemon’s wedding will be a subdued affair. It has been six months since Daeron’s funeral. The marriage ceremony will be done in front of the heart tree in Red Keep’s godswood. Father wanted it done through the Old Ways.

Aemon was shocked when he found out that he is to marry. I know my brother. He hates it when he feels that things are being dictated to him. He always wanted to live life on his own terms. But what could Aemon do? My father is still King. His Grace doesn’t have to sit on the Throne or even make his presence in court. His word still stands. I suppose Aemon has made peace with his betrothal as the days passed. He has been spending a lot of time with Lynnie and I see that he’s falling in love with her. He smiles more and even laughs when they talk. Lynnie will be a beautiful Queen. She is kind, gracious, cheerful and she will be a good balance to my otherwise brooding and dour brother. I can’t say the same about her brother Robbie.

He stares at me too much that it is seen as rude and I find him boorish. The loud way he laughs with his Northern friends and relatives who came to the Capital with him. I suppose many in court will find him handsome with his striking height, his reddish brown hair and amber eyes. I know that he will be Lord of Winterfell one day and there are so many unmarried court ladies who will want to win his favour to be the future Lady Stark. 

When I was a child I didn’t like Robbie much. He called me a spoilt Southern princess but he would never do so in front of my brothers. It was so long ago but I was about seven when we visited the Starks in Winterfell. I wanted to follow the boys as they roamed out to the Wolf’s Wood. Daeron and Aemon wanted to venture further. Robbie was around Aemon’s age and he followed them too.

“I’m going to tell Father…” I said to them.

“No you won’t,” Daeron turned and said to me. 

“You’re not supposed to go out too far! Father says its dangerous.” I told him.

“Shut it…” Robbie hissed, annoyed with me.

“I’m going back now. And I’m telling Father! He’s going to be wroth with you…” I said and turned around heading to the castle.

“Robbie get her…” Daeron called. I saw Robbie running to me and I yelped then I fell to the ground, tripping on some fallen tree branches. He looked down at me and shook his head.

“Spoilt Southern Princess…” Robbie said with a sigh. He didn’t even bother to extend his hand to pull me up or help me.

Daeron came running 
and pulled me up. He was tall at twelve and he carried me in his arms. 

“Are you alright Lyanna?” My big brother asked meDaeron looked so concerned.

I only cried and wrapped my arms around him. Daeron sighed and carried me all the way back to the castle. Aemon and Robbie following him. His plans to venture out of Winterfell had been stalled.

“I’m still telling Father…” I said to Daero
n.

“Of course you will…” My brother said with a smile.

I don’t realise tears are falling untill someone hands me a handkerchief. Old memories of Daeron comes back sometimes. I miss my smiling, older brother so much. I dab the handkerchief on my eyes and softly steady myself. A princess shouldn’t cry in public.

“Thank you,” I say to the person and his bright amber eyes shines.

“My pleasure Princess…” Robbie replies and that makes me scowl. 

I move away and I hear him chuckling. He probably thinks I’m still the same silly young girl who had fallen down in front of him in the Wolf’s Wood. Now that his sister will marry Aemon, I will probably see more of him in court and I know I won’t like it.

 

Chapter Text

Rhaelle

My sister is annoyed. Our cousin Robbie is staring at her again and she rolls her eyes and looks away. Lyanna has been trying to avoid seeing him but he’s always around. My parents are gone. They are in Dragonstone now where my brother Daeron’s stone sarcophagus will be put to rest in his grand tomb. Aemon will sail there soon while my sister and I are needed in Red Keep. We have to keep Cousin Lynnie company. I like Lynnie a lot, everyone does. She is a sweet, delightful person. She loves to explore the city and see the sights. Growing up in Winterfell she hasn’t really been anywhere so it’s all new to her, traveling South to the Capital.

My Aunt Sansa is extremely protective of her only daughter. My aunt’s childhood and youth had been marked by tragedy and I know it wasn’t easy for her but now she has entrusted her only daughter into House Targaryen’s care. Father had assured Aunt Sansa that Lynnie will be well cared for, like any royal princess for she will be a future Queen. Aunt Sansa being a cautious woman that she is, sent her son and heir Robbie down to chaperone his sister and they didn’t come alone. A battalion of Stark soldiers and bannermen as well as relatives of House Hornwood rode with them to the Capital.

It must have given the citizens of King’s Landing a fright thinking that a great Northern army has come to lay siege on their city. Then they remember their beloved King, Jon the Great as he is known, is still King in the North. There was nothing to be afraid of. The Starks and Northerners have made themselves at home in Red Keep and Lyanna grows frustrated with their loud, boisterous ways. She finds them uncouth and I only sigh. Lyanna forgets that she is a Northerner too. My father’s blood runs in her veins, Stark blood. Still the people in court are unaccustomed to the Northern culture. Their songs, dances and the way they dress. And how they prefer ale to wine.

“Why are they wearing furs?” Lyanna complains while they have supper with us in Red Keep’s grand ballroom. “It’s too hot for furs…”

“Well it is their way,” I say with a smile.

“Silly ways…” She grumbles. She looks straight and sees cousin Robbie walking to our table.

“Oh the gods…” Lyanna groans knowing he wants to speak to her.

“I think he wants to dance with you.” I tell my sister.

“I don’t want to! I don’t want to touch him or be anywhere near the man!” Lyanna whispers in my ear. “I can’t stand him.”

That’s too bad, I thought with a sigh. Because you’ll end up falling crazily in love with him, running away to be married in secret in a godswood like our grandmother did and Father will be annoyed with you…

“What did you say?” Lyanna asks me as I look at her.

“Huh?” I am stumped.

“You said that Father will be annoyed with me…”

Seven Hells…Did I say that out loud? My visions…. I should have zipped my mouth. Uncle Bran did warn me. People don’t really want to know what their future brings. They say that they do, but in reality they don’t.

My sister frowns and she looks upset. “Tell me Rhaelle…what did you see??”

“He’s coming over Sister…” I tell her and smile. “You should start coughing and pretend to be ill…”

Lyanna turns and Robbie is standing there. She then starts coughing loudly.

“Are you alright Your Highness?” He asks her, suddenly concerned.

“I’m not feeling well…” She says and coughs. Lyanna pulls me to her and we stand up from our seats.

“Come with me…” Lyanna whispers and hold my arm as we walk away. She continues with her fake coughs all the way to the grand staircase.

“I’ll call a Maester for you Your Highness…” Robbie says and Lyanna just walks faster, thinking that she can outrun what is already destined for her.

Chapter Text

Aemon

I stand next to my brother’s stoned sarcophagus. It will finally be put to rest in his grand tomb, with dragons carved on it. The story of his birth and life in High Valyrian. Here lies the Prince of princes, Daeron Eddard Targaryen, born in a snowstorm during the Long Winter. Beloved son of Jon and Daenerys Targaryen. A short poem Rhaelle had written, chiseled in the stone. 

Rest Sweet Prince, for Day is gone and you shalt now and forever belong to the stars and the heavens above…’

My sister has a way with words for someone who does not speak much. I sigh and touch Daeron’s sarcophagus. Soon Brother, I will be back. I promise... I will be Prince of Dragonstone and take my seat here with my new bride and my son shall be named Daeron and another named Jon after my father. And Lynnie and I will make this stone fortress our home and tell our children of our families’ histories. The Starks and Targaryens and the Hornwoods of her father’s side. And read to them the Great bound book Grand Maester Samwell Tarly had written. 

He showed it to me before I left for Dragonstone. It was supposed to be a wedding gift for me and Lynnie and our children after us. He titled it,“A Song of Ice and Fire”, a history of my parents and what they have done and everything that make them who they are.

I hear footsteps and turn. My father stands there and I give a bow. “Your Grace…”

“Your mother’s resting…” He says quietly.

“She is getting better.” I say and Father nods. He sighs and look at Daeron’s stoned sarcophagus.

“What do you think he’ll think of this? Your brother?” Father asks me.

“Dark…” I reply as I look at the tomb. “Daeron never liked it here.”

“Your Mama insisted. A grand tomb in the crypt of her ancestors.” Father tells me.

“I know…” I breathe. Father just wants to make my mother comfortable. He would do anything to make her happy and she has been in mourning for her beloved son for months.

“We could put more candles in here.” I suggest to Father and he agrees, nodding.

“You should rest,” Father says. “We sail for the Capital tomorrow.”

I keep quiet and Father taps my shoulder before he leaves. My father isn’t a man of many words and like me, he has a tendency to be stoic. But I know he cares. He has always been affectionate with my mother and my sisters but with my brother and I, we don’t get hugs as we grow older. We are men after all, princes who may one day be kings. Father doesn’t want us too coddled. So maybe Lord Tyrion was right, that I’m more like my Father than any of his children and because of it, I understand him. I finally get why he is the way he is. What moulded him to be such a man. The book that the Grand Maester wrote helped me in knowing my father, the King and maybe even love him more for it.


 

Jon

He watched as his son Aemon wed Catelyn, Sansa’s only daughter in front of the Heart tree that night in Red Keep. They make quite a pair. Both good looking, tall and smiling. Aemon looked happy and Jon was pleased. His son rarely smiles but this night he was all smiles when he looked at his beautiful bride. To wed for love is a rarity, rarer still when you fall in love with someone your parents had chosen. Jon held Daenerys’ hand tight throughout the ceremony. They weren’t wed through the Old Ways but by a Septon of the Faith. The Old gods wouldn’t bless their union some of the Northern Lords had said. Best to get the new gods then. As if they were interchangeable…

Jon went and hugged his new daughter and his son after the ceremony. There would be a feast in the ballroom. It would be a Northern one since the Hornwoods and some, quite a number actually of Stark bannermen had came to the Capital. Most never venture South of the Trident so it was all new to them, going to fancy Southron lands and seeing the grand big red castle and cast their eyes on that ugly iron chair that their King sits. So while everyone celebrated inside, Jon and his Queen watched the stars on the bed in the terrace outside the King’s chambers. They value their privacy greatly and spent most of their time in each other’s company.

“She looks beautiful doesn’t she?” Daenerys commented.

“Aye she does. She looks like her mother.” Jon said as he thought of Lynnie.

“Aemon looks very happy…” Daenerys said and smiled at him. Jon smiled back and held her hand.

“I’m happy too…” She sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder. “I’m happy for him. I’m happy for both of them. They’re really in love.”

“He’s going to be fine, Dany. Lyanna will be fine and so will Rhaelle….” He kissed his wife’s head.

“I don’t think Daeron wants me to be sad all the time…” Daenerys said after a pause and looked at him. Jon nodded hearing it.

“No he wouldn’t.” Jon spoke and thought of his firstborn and Daeron’s effervescent smile. “He would never want that.”

“We’ll be alright won’t we Jon?” Daenerys asked him. Her eyes looking at him, hopeful and vulnerable.

“We will be my Love…” He said and kissed her lips gently. As long as we’re together. We’ll be just fine. We’ll get through anything. Together….

 

Chapter Text

Lyanna

I want a Love like what Mama and Father have. Theirs is an enviable Love. The kind of love story you hear in songs and fairytales. It isn’t always perfect but if two people really love each other, they will just try. No matter the odds, they’ll get through it together. The good times and the bad times. That was what Father had said before. Things are getting better now. My mother smiles more. Maybe she realises that life does go on after a tragic loss. She started eating more and indulges in her favourite foods.

Lynnie has been wonderful. She has such a big heart and she has already ingratiates herself well into our family. It is no wonder my brother fell in love with her so quickly and everyone knows that Aemon isn’t one to be sentimental. Lynnie spends time with my mother and tells her things. She’s good at making the Queen laugh and makes beautiful embroidery. Mama even tells Aemon to stay in Red Keep longer and postpone his move to Dragonstone and Aemon agrees. Like Father, Aemon knows how important it is for my mother to remain happy. He does not want our Mama to spiral back into despair.

My father has started attending court and does his Kingly duties although not as heavy and busy as before. I feel relieved that he has stopped retreating into his chambers and solar. He still needs his privacy and I respect that. It just feels wonderful to be able to have meals as a family again and talk about things, even laugh. It is nice to see my parents having their evening walks in the gardens as they just sit on the bench watching the sunset in Blackwater Rush and talk about everything and anything.

I am not romantic by nature. I know how in life one needs to be practical. But it must be nice to have a Love like that. To have a person look at me the way my father always looks at my mother as if she is the brightest star in the sky that he would give up his entire world for. I sigh as my parents kiss in the the terrace. It got quite passionate and I look away giving them their privacy even from afar.

 

“Lyanna….”

It is Lynnie calling me and I smile at her. Then, I see Robbie walking behind and I want to roll my eyes. He’s looking at me again and that smile on his handsome face. I shouldn’t call it handsome but it is quite comely.

“Robbie will be leaving soon for Winterfell…” Lynnie tells me. She then gives me a bashful smile and I wonder why.

“Well I wish you good journey Cousin,” I tell him and Robbie smiles. I force myself to smile back at him.

I guess I will miss him and his rowdy guests. They do bring a little Northern provincial charm to court.

“You should come visit us in Winterfell Princess. We can go riding in the Wolf’s Woods.” Robbie tells me. I only keep quiet wishing that the conversation will just end.

“Oh…” Lynnie suddenly utters. Robbie and her exchange looks. “I should go. I promise Aemon that we’ll have supper together…”

She sounds rather awkward as she leaves. I am surprised Lynnie walks away rather quickly leaving me and Robbie at the courtyard. I am not alone with him. There are palace guards patrolling the area. Still it is not proper. I clear my throat hoping Robbie gets the hint and move on. I wonder where my sister Rhaelle is.

“Do you remember when you were little, you made me promise to kiss you when we’re older?” Robbie says.

I stare at him, flabbergasted. “I did no such thing…”

“You probably forgot about it. But you wrote me a note before you left Winterfell with your family…” He grins and handed me a note and I stare at it.

It is in my handwriting, at least how I used to write when I was little. I am embarrassed by the note and I didn’t know what else to say. But he kept it with him all these years. I groaned inwardly as I recall. I was rather infatuated with him years ago and I was upset that he was quite aloof about it. It makes perfect sense why he vexes me so and why he seems to get under my skin.

“Anyway we Starks keep our promises,” Robbie says smiling rather widely.

“You’re a Hornwood.” I say quietly and Robbie looks at me, a little annoyed.

“I am still of House Stark…” He says sounding a bit defensive. He breathes in and looks at me before speaking.

“So I’m going to kiss you because I made a promise that I would.”

I watch as he moves closer and I don’t know why my heart is beating fast and my eyes never leave his face. Robbie bends and kisses my lips and it feels magical. I wrap my arms around him and I feel myself smiling. I return the kiss, he smells wonderful of leather and the forest and our lips mesh so well. I wonder if all kisses are suppose to feel like this or maybe I’m just being too sentimental.

Then I hear someone clearing his throat and I jump back surprised, breaking the kiss. I turn and look and there is my father, the King with Mama, their arms link together. My mother looks surprised, a smile forming on her beautiful face. Father however, looks irritated, annoyed even. I see the way he stares at Robbie. The King is not pleased and suddenly I worry. I worry for Robbie and I instinctively grab his arm and stand in front of him, shielding him even from the King’s angry stare. My father would never do anything to me, his precious daughter. But the young man who had kissed her quite ardently moments ago, risking her reputation is another story.

 


  

Daenerys

“It is not right…” Her husband, the King grumbled when they were in his bedchambers. 

“It is not proper. How dare he thinks he can just kiss her like that… Under my own roof? In my own house?” Jon huffed, shaking his head.

“She kissed him back as well.” Daenerys told Jon with a smile. “I like him, he is very handsome…”

“Of course you would like him.” Jon said and frowned. “Everyone likes a pretty face.”

Just like yours Darling… Daenerys wanted to say but didn’t. She looked at her handsome husband and smiled.

“I don’t see what the problem is Jon. He likes her and our daughter is obviously very taken with him. I think a match between them will be wonderful,” Daenerys said as she sat down by her dressing table. She took her hairbrush and started brushing her hair for a while.

“Do you honestly think that our daughter will be happy up North in Winterfell?” Jon asked her. “The dreary weather and a life in the country? With my serious sister as a mother in law?”

Daenerys knows that her daughter, Lyanna is the apple of her father’s eye. The girl had been that ever since the day she was born. How Jon would spoil the princess silly just as much as he spoiled his own wife. The beautiful dresses, fine lace and silks that Lyanna loves and the full skirted gowns that even the Queen finds too frivolous. The jeweled tiaras and other fine jewelry that she wears. Her clothing allowance is even more than the Queen’s. Lyanna likes the finer things in life. She grew up with them. She never had to worry about anything, being a Princess. Living in Winterfell would be a vast change in lifestyle for her.

“You just don’t want her to be away from you.” Daenerys said softly and sighed. 

“Children grow up Jon…They leave the nest one way or another…” She almost cried thinking of her late son and blinked back her tears. Daeron wouldn’t want that. 

Daenerys then felt Jon hugging her from behind as he kissed the back of her head. It felt good being in his arms. Sometimes she thinks that it is the only thing that kept her from slipping further into her deep grief. She had Jon’s arms to hold her while she cried at night. She had him to comfort her while they find solace together, away from everything, the whole world even. They had mourned for months together for the child they had lost. 

Her Sweet, Darling Boy. With his father’s raven hair, dark eyes and his own special, sweet smile. He was conceived out of love, in an Armada somewhere out at sea. The child they had poured their hopes and dreams into, born after the Great War in the middle of a heavy snowstorm in Winterfell. They were so happy when he was born. Daenerys remembered feeling that her heart might burst seeing his perfect little face. And she knew Jon loved to watch Daeron as he slept in his bassinet. He would just stand there and stare at his sleeping baby boy. Sometimes bending down to listen to his small breaths, so afraid that his tiny fragile heart might just stop. 

It didn’t of course, the boy grew up strong and healthy. He had too much energy sometimes, wanting to ride and practice his archery, playing with his brother or go hunting with his father. He participated in joust events in the Tourney when he got older. And he was always up for any new adventure, even dangerous ones like going East. Wanting to take back the Bay of Dragons. Her son was too much of the curious Dragon and less of the careful, quiet Wolf that his father is.

Daeron is gone now… Like most people Daenerys once loved. Her children Rhaego, Viserion and Rhaegal, her good friend Ser Jorah, the brave Ser Barristan, her sweet handmaiden Irri and her loyal commander Greyworm. 

“I’m here…” Jon whispered and Daenerys leaned back on him and closed her eyes for a while. 

I don’t want you to go before me my Love. I know it’s selfish and cruel but I don’t want you to leave me…When the time comes, let me be the first to go…I swear I’ll watch over you….

She didn’t think she could take it if Jon dies before her. Who else would keep her warm and hold her close in his arms at night? Who else…

 

Chapter Text

Jon

The children were playing in the snow and he smiled seeing them laughing gaily. Three with their bright red hair and two with silver blonde heads. Who would have thought he’d have redheaded grandchildren of his own? Even Lyanna’s children had the reddish hair of their father. Who would have thought he would even ever have grandchildren? It was something he would never dare dream of in his youth, while he was guarding The Wall.

“Father…”

Jon turned and smiled seeing his youngest. Ah Rhaelle, his sweet daughter Rhaelle. Quiet and unassuming, she never asked for anything and yet she was always there for him. Lyanna had married Robbie and now lived in Winterfell with a brood of kids. She wrote to her father everyday and promised to visit him soon. Rhaelle still stayed in Red Keep with her father, her brother Aemon and his family.

“I brought you your tea.” She smiled as she carried a tray in.

“You didn’t have to.” Jon said. “I already drank some.”

“Well…I thought maybe you’d like some more.” Rhaelle said gently.

“You should find a nice man and settle down Rhaelle, have some children of your own.” Jon said to his daughter.

“I am fine Father.” She told him. “Being an auntie is far too much work.”

“Your mother would want you to have a family.” Jon said quietly.

“I already have a family…” Rhaelle said and hugged him as he sat on his chair and kissed his cheek firmly. The children were laughing again throwing snowballs.

“Aemon has fine children.” Jon commented.

“Yes. All joyful like their mother,” Rhaelle said.

“Your mother always thinks your brother broods too much.” Jon said. “He takes after me, she says.”

Rhaelle smiled and nodded. She took a soft woolen blanket and wrapped it around Jon’s shoulder.

“So what are your plans today Father?” She asked him.

“Meet with the Hand,” Jon sighed.

Alex Hightower is a smart lad but sometimes Jon missed his old Hand, Tyrion. He missed the sarcasm and dry wit of the Lannister man. But Tyrion passed away two years ago and Alex Hightower came highly recommended.

“You know he is still looking for a wife.” Jon said to Rhaelle and she only laughed softly and shook her head.

“Do you want me to take you to the Throne Room?” Rhaelle asked him.

“No Ser Podrick will come by later and bring me there,” Jon said.

“Alright Father,” Rhaelle said and kissed his cheek. “I will see you later for supper.”

 


Podrick Payne came into the King’s chambers about an hour later and Jon was happy to see a familiar face. Like him, Podrick’s hair had gone grey and he became one of Jon’s most trusted advisor and a member of the Small Council. And as the years went by, Podrick became a good friend to the King.

“Your Grace…” Podrick bowed and Jon gave a nod.

They walked down the corridors and saw snow falling in the courtyard. Jon remembered many winters ago. The Long One. Ah, it was cold, so cold and yet it was alright, because his wife was there with him.

“The maesters said this winter won’t be too long,” Podrick spoke and Jon grew quiet. They went to the Throne Room and Podrick helped him up the stairs.

“I’m not that old…” Jon had grumbled and sat on his throne. They put thick furs on the seat to keep him warm.

“I know Your Grace.” Podrick said. “The Hand will come soon. He’s on his way from the Tower…”

“Fine…go get him…” Jon spoke and Podrick nodded.

He sat on the metal chair, and just looked at the hall, empty except for Kingsguards standing silently by the pillars. The great Throne Room was quiet and still except for rustling of the long curtains, fire crackling in the braziers. He sighed and leaned against the metal back.

 

“Hello Jon…”

The King looked up, surprised to see his brother Bran standing there before him.

“Bran?” He uttered.

Bran smiled and looked at him, sitting on the throne. “How are you feeling now?” He asked the King.

“Old..” Jon grunted. He had been sitting on that ugly throne for over three decades. He had now grown weary of it.

“Everything’s going to be fine Jon. I promise you.” Bran said.

“I miss my wife…” Jon suddenly said, tears falling as he thought of his Great Love and he wiped them away. “I really miss her.”

“I know…” Bran said and gave a small smile. “You will see her soon.”

Jon grew quiet. There was no use crying. He had been crying too much anyway. Five years he had cried and finally realised Daenerys wouldn’t want him to be sad all the time. So he built monuments instead, statues of his wife in King’s Landing, White Harbour, Lannisport and Old Town. The major cities in the Seven Kingdoms had memorials built to honour their beloved Queen. He told the gardeners to plant all of her favorite flowers in the gardens. Roses, lilies, jasmine and the lemon trees that she liked. 

“Will it hurt?” Jon suddenly asked his brother. Bran never seemed to age, still looking eighteen or maybe the King’s old mind was playing tricks on him.

“It’s like falling asleep and dreaming and because you’ve done well in life. It’s a good dream you’ll have…”

Jon gave a nod and smiled. He then closed his eyes as he leaned back against the Iron Throne. He breathed softly and thought of Daenerys’ beautiful face. They were in the caves looking at the dragonglass and the paintings on the walls. Jon realised he had never seen anything so beautiful in all his life when he looked at her.

 

“Your Grace….” 

The Hand and Podrick Payne walked up to the King and realized that he had been sleeping. They called him again but he didn't respond. Podrick went to touch the King and his hand felt cold. The Master of Laws then checked the King’s pulse. He looked at the Hand, Lord Hightower and both of them were shocked and saddened. Podrick sighed as he clutched the King’s hand and kissed it. He then took the ring off and handed it over to the Hand.

“The Crown Prince is having a meeting with a few Lords in the Small Council room.” Podrick informed the Hand and he nodded. Podrick then directed the Kingsguards to stand vigil. They would need to get the palace officials to start the preparations for the funeral rites. 

 

Prince Aemon was having a meeting with some members of the Small Council when the Hand came by, accompanied by a few Kingsguards including the Lord Commander who would never leave the King’s side. The prince wondered what had happened then the Kingsguards all knelt in front of him. The Hand knelt down and handed his father’s ring to him. 

It was a shock to the prince when the Hand addressed him as “Your Grace.”

Everyone in the room got up and knelt as well. “Long live the King…” They said solemnly in unison. 

The thirty two year old prince had tears welled up in his eyes as he stared at his father’s ring. He then sat down and breathed, blinking the tears away. He knew his father wouldn’t want him to cry. One by one, the Lords present came to kneel down, swearing fealty and kissed his ring as well as offering kind words of condolences on his late father’s demise. It wouldn’t be the same now that the Great King Jon had passed.


 

Rhaelle

My father’s funeral was a simple one. He hated the pomp and pageantry of royalty. So he died as he lived, a quiet, humble affair. His body lied next to my mother’s in Dragonstone, not far from Daeron’s tomb. Sealed together side by side. Where they would be lying next to each other, always and forever. And soon their children and children’s children would lie there as well. My brother was crowned Aemon, the First of his Name. He would be known as Aemon the Just during his reign. His people respected him despite his austere ways and they adored his good Queen Lynnie.

Aemon ruled for twenty years and after him, his redheaded son, Daeron the Third of his name. He was also called Daeron the Grand because of his love for the arts and building that Grand Palace on the grounds of what used to be the burned down castle of Summerhall. It was a huge palace that almost bankrupted the realm but Daeron’s son, Jon the Second managed to bring everything in order when he became King. So a few more Jons would be born into the line of Targaryen kings as the name became more popular than Aegon. Though none were as Great as the First Jon, my father. After a long while, another Queen came to power and ruled. She was named Daenerys after her illustrious ancestor, my mother.

I stood there during her coronation, at the Grand Palace of Summerhall watching as they placed a crown on her head. Strangely this Daenerys looked like my mother except her hair was dark. Many years had passed, maybe a century or two. Drogon had been gone for decades and so House Targaryen had no more dragons but they had gunpowder and that helped in controlling the trade as well as exploring new lands West of Westeros and further East. The country has its ebb and flow of good times and bad times, war and peace, feast and famine, winter and spring. Like Uncle Bran had said, nothing is really permanent and time is a loop, with no ending or beginning.

I sigh as I stare at the large painting of my parents made by an artist. It hangs in the Grand Palace of Summerhall that my nephew had built more than a century ago. My father is embracing my mother and dragons flying above. Soldiers fighting frozen corpses and Winterfell in the background. The artist wanted to depict the Great Battle for Dawn.

“It doesn’t look like him…”

I turn and smile when I hear Uncle Bran’s voice. He looks young as always just like I am. Both of us forever at eighteen years old.

“They had his nose wrong and his eyes are much more broody.” I say.

“Yes but at least they make your mother look beautiful.” Uncle Bran tells me.

“Because she is beautiful…” I pause and correct myself. “Was…”

My mother is not really here anymore, she is gone. Just like Father is and Aemon, Lynnie and Lyanna and their children and even their children’s children. Everyone I know is gone. One of the downsides of being the Three Eyed Raven, you outlive almost everyone else.

“You can still go back and visit her if you want to.” Uncle Bran tells me and I nod.

“I still do.” I smile.

I remembered watching them as they rode their horses outside the city walls, my mother in her red riding cloak. My father wouldn’t stop kissing her when he brought her down from her horse. It got too passionate and I knew I had to look away. It is the same everytime, they will look at each other with love shining in their eyes and kiss deeply and feel so strongly that even time and death won’t diminish it. It was crazy and powerful, deep and lasting. It made me think that like castles and old fortresses, some Loves will just stand through the test of time and last forever…

 -Finis-