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Second Chances

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It's been over a year since her brother went south to meet the Dragon Queen and to ask for her help. Very few ravens arrived North from her brother the last informing them that the Dragon Queen had taken Kings Landing and that they were on their way to Winterfell.

She feared he had bent the knee, that he had let the beauty of the Queen blind him and forget the North just as Littlefinger had suggested.

She hears the horses arriving and the roars of three large dragons flying above Winterfell as she stands in the Courtyard with the rest of the Lords and Ladies of the North. Riders carrying the Targaryen banners enter and soon she sees her brother enter, quickly dismounting his horse and rushing over to their brother Bran.

She watches as he places a kiss on his brother’s forehead before he speaks.

“Thank you. Thank you so much,” Jon’s voice shakes, and she can see a few tears fill his eyes.

“No need to thank me. You deserved to be happy, so did she,” Bran answers with a small smile before Jon turns around to walk towards the horse carrying the Dragon Queen, not sparing a glance in her direction.

To her surprise, she sees the queen only holding the reins of her horse with one hand while the other cradles something small, bundled up in furs.

She carries a smile upon her face that only seems to brighten as Jon walks over to her.  Jon has a matching smile on his face, and she knows her brother has fallen for the Dragon Queen.

The Northern Lords and Ladies all seem to pick up on this as well and they all tense as they watch the queen descend from her horse. But before she does, she gently hands what she’s cradling over to her brother who beams at receiving it. With one arm he carries the small bundle while with the other he helps the Queen dismount her horse.

With their arms linked they both make their way towards her. When they nearly arrive before her a little hand escapes the bundling and reaches for her brother’s face. It leaves her breathless and frozen as she realizes what her brother is carrying.

The two monarchs instead of realizing the gravity of the situation simply laugh as the Queen moves to cover the little arm up.

“I told you that he would wake as soon we dismounted,” the Queen says, in what can be described as a teasing tone and her brother laughs some more, startling most of the Northern Lords and Ladies for they had never once heard her brother laugh much less smile.

“Aye you were right as always,” he answers and at that moment they don’t look like a King or Queen but rather two young parents attending to their child.

Both their attentions turn to her and away from the child.

“Sansa,” her brother starts, “I would like to introduce you to Queen Daenerys of House Targaryen and Prince Aemon of House Targaryen, my wife, and my son.”

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The captain had told them that they should be arriving at Dragonstone within the next hour and he can’t fight the dread and hope he has growing inside of him. He’s going to see her again. He’s going to see the love of his life again. After what he did... after he…

He closes his eyes as it gets harder to breathe and the memory begins to take over.

The ashes… the throne… her lips… her blood.

He feels Ghost’s tongue lick the palm of his hand, bringing him back. His faithful companion looks up at him with his red eyes, wagging his tail, and he remembers he did not bring him South last time.

He’s going to make sure to do many things differently this time.

“Well, you’re awfully broody today. More than usual so it couldn’t be the nightmares that have kept you up recently. Are you really this nervous to meet the Dragon Queen?" he hears Davos ask him as he closes the door.

“Daenerys,” he’s quick to correct, “her name is Daenerys."

“Alright…” Davos says but he can tell there’s a lingering question in his closest adviser’s voice.

And before the Onion Knight can walk away, he knows he must tell him the truth. That someone besides them needs to know.

“Ser Davos, there are things you need to know before we arrive.”

And so, in the privacy of his quarters, he reveals to his Hand the truth.  All his failures, all his regrets, and what his real purpose is for going to Dragonstone.

He watches as the older man sits in both horror and awe of everything he’s revealed. He seems to struggle to say words.

“Well you really fucked up, lad,” Ser Davos says with a chug of his ale and he can’t help but laugh at his assessment of the situation.

“Aye I did, we all did,” he runs his hands through his hair before lowering his head into his hands.

“So what are your plans?” Davos asks.

“Beg for forgiveness, pray she doesn’t burn me alive on the spot, hope not to break down in the throne room as soon as I see her,” he answers, refusing to lift his head.

“Well if that’s the case, it might be best for me to do the talking. I can tell you won’t be able to handle any sort of dialogue or you just might kill us both.”

And it's decided that his Hand will do most of the talking when they land. He prepared himself the best he could but upon seeing Tyrion Lannister and Varys awaiting his group his temper flares, knowing that they too were responsible for what occurred in the future. He only manages to calm down when he hears Missandei instructing them to hand over their weapons.

Suddenly a roar is heard directly above them and a large green dragon lands on the beach, startling everyone, including the Queen’s advisors.

Rhaegal.

He can feel the bond that had begun growing between him and the dragon become alive again and burn deeper into him as he truly accepts who and what he is.

I’ve missed you boy. I promise you won’t let you, your brother or your mother fall again.

His promise causes the dragon to roar once more and walk towards him until he can caress him once again. He hears gasps from those present, but he ignores them. What does shock him is watching Ghost walk up to Rhaegal and after an instant of smells and taking each other in, Ghost stands on his hind legs and places his front legs on Rhaegal’s snout. The wolf howls and the dragon shake his head, knocking the wolf off before roaring and flying away to join his brothers, Ghost running off to chase after them.

He can’t help but smile as he walks back to the group.

“I think its best to not keep the Queen waiting,” he announces and after a moment they all begin the long track up to the castle. He ignores Tyrion’s attempt at small talk and just tries to focus on getting to his queen. The door of the throne room opens and just as before she is sitting on the dragonglass throne looking as regal and majestic as she did the first time, he saw her.

He hears her titles, but his eyes stare into hers not caring about anything else and he knows.

She remembers…

“Jon Snow,” he hears the beautiful sound of her voice and his legs give out.

It begins to get hard to breathe again; this vision starts to dim, and his surroundings change to the throne room in the Red Keep. Ashes in air, buildings destroyed, the Iron Throne is there, and he sees himself standing there getting ready to kiss her and he knows what’s next…

Jon!

Jon!

He keeps hearing different voices calling his name, but he can’t look away.

Jon!

Jon!

My love.

That one makes him react. He feels a soft hand on his face, and he can’t help but lean into it. The hand turns his head, away from the sight before him and he sees his love, his queen, kneeling before him with a soft smile and tears in her eyes.

“I forgave you, my love. Don’t torture yourself with what you did, what we did. We have another chance to make things right and we will get it right this time.”

He hugs her and holds her as tight as he can, letting go of the tears he’s held back since his return, since the moment he committed his greatest mistake.

“I love you, Dany.”

“I love you too, Jon.”  

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She’s frozen not sure what to say. No word had reached the North about this happening. How did she not find out they got married and had a child? But before she can answer Bran speaks.

“That’s a good name, I wasn’t sure what name you were going to go with, but honoring your great uncle is good.”

“Aye, he’s named for the wise man who knew it was best to give up the throne and served the realm in the best way he could have,” Jon says with a smile.

“Lady Stark,” the Queen speaks, turning her attention away from her brothers, “I thank you for offering us housing and Northern hospitality. The Lords and Ladies of the South and the commanders of my armies that decided to join us to fight against the Dead are equally as grateful.”

“W…Winterfell is yours, Your Grace,” she answers, struggling to keep composure at this unforeseen series of events. Then the Queen turns to face her younger brother.

“And thank you for the gift you bestowed upon my husband and I Lord Stark, we will both be eternally grateful for it,” she speaks and she has the same look her brother had on his face as he thanked Bran.

“We wronged you. We wronged you both even after all you did and it was only right that I fix what I had a hand in making wrong,” he says, and the Queen simply flashes Bran a smile and he surprisingly gives one back.

“I need to escort my wife to our chambers. It’s been a long journey and giving birth along the way made it more tiresome. I know my Lords and Ladies that there are many questions that need answering but our company needs rest and I need some time in the Godswood,” Jon explains and the Northern men and women nod, still equally in shock as she is.

She watches as her brother walks away with the Dragon Queen and she is left alone with the Northern Lords who begin demanding answers. She turns to Bran and sees him smiling after the royal couple.  

“Did you know?” she asks, and he turns to face her.

“Of course, I knew,” he answers matter-of-factly.

“Why didn’t you tell any of us?” she demands.

“Because telling any of you would have put them in danger,” he answers, and she’s stopped short.

“We would never,” she starts but Bran simply shakes his head.

“You all don’t know anything, not even what you would have done if I had revealed what you just witnessed. I wasn’t going to risk them again,” he answers, and Podrick then begins to wheel him away.

----------------------------------

He stands alone in the Godswood, staring at the carved face of the Heart Tree. Dany insisted she remembered the way to his rooms and that it would be better if he went to find some peace in the Godswood, that as soon as she rested she would join him to offer her thanks for their return. As soon as their personal guard took over he left.  

A little coo reminds him he’s not entirely alone and he can’t help but smile at the very existence of his son. In his eyes, he was a perfect little thing. His eyes grey as his own but the silver tufts of hair upon his head proof of his Targaryen heritage. He gently rocks him and smiles as Aemon yawns once again.

“Your mother’s right, all the dragon riding, and horse riding… you can’t sleep when you’re still,” he chuckles and his son looks up at him, refusing to close his eyes.

“I want to thank you,” he speaks to the gods, “I want to thank you for the opportunity you gave me. For giving me my wife, our child. As much as the Southerners have fought against it we’re allowing folks to worship you again, to worship any deity they wish to. I just pray now that you will let us live through this final war. You’ve given us so much that we fear losing it,” he admits his biggest fear.

Life and the gods had finally given him what he always wanted a family, a home, love, and now with this final war, he feared losing it all. He couldn’t imagine going back to a life where his family didn’t exist.

“You used to be taller,” the familiar line causes another smile to form on his face.

Many things have happened and changed since all this began but his love for his youngest sister has not. Just to make sure things turned out different than the last time he answers in the same manner she did.

“And you used to be shorter.”

He turns around and watches as her next statement dies on her lips and is left speechless at seeing what’s in his arms.

“Is that?” she starts asking, taking small steps towards him.

“Aye, this is my son,” he says proudly, and she finally stands beside him.

“He has the same eyes as us,” she points out with a smile.

That had always been something else that pulled them together. They were the only two of the children that looked like Starks. Sansa, Robb, Rickon, and Bran all looked more like their mother’s family. And he knew it hurt Lady Stark more to see her husband’s “bastard” look more like him than her own children.

But I didn’t look like him, I looked like my mother.

“Yes he does,” he risks a glance at his sister and sees awe in her features. “Aemon this is your Aunt Arya, I’m sure when you’re old enough she’ll teach you everything you need to know about defending yourself.”

He hears her giggle and he’s reminded how much he’s missed her and how little time he got to spend with her last time.

“I know he’s cuter than I am but, would I be able to get a hug from my sister?”

She quickly wraps her arms around her and he carefully lifts her with one arm, while making sure Aemon is not crushed. He seems to have failed because his little boy immediately starts to make disgruntled noises. The look of panic and terror on Arya’s face almost makes it worth it.

“Did we hurt him?” she asks.

“No, he’s probably starting to get hungry. We’ve been out here longer than I expected.”

He sees her still looking at Aemon and decides to offer

“Do you want to hold him?”

“I’ve never held a babe before,” she says.

“You held Bran and Rickon when they were born,” he reminds her.

“I don’t really remember that a lot of memories of our family have faded away,” she admits and the sadness of what they’ve lost hits them both.

He’s done the same, not just the memories he had with the Starks but the ones of his previous life. Although some were happy, they only lead to the reminder of the tragedy that occurred at the end of it all.

“Well maybe its time to start making new ones,” he positions himself to hand the baby to Arya. “Now cradle your arms like that, watch his head,” he instructs as he finally lowers the baby into his sister’s arms. And he smiles at the sight of his Stark family truly accepting his son.

“Has Sansa held him?” she asks as she makes silly faces at Aemon.

“No, I’m not sure how Sansa handled him existing,” he admits

“She has more family, what is there to handle?” she asked confused.

“He’s not just my son, he’s also Dany's” he tries to explain, and Arya just shakes her head and gives him a disbelieving smile.

“Dany?” she asks with a little laugh, “I never thought you were going to be a love sick fool. That was going to be either Robb or Theon, you were too broody growing up.”

His brother’s name stings for a moment but he pushes the memories down and focuses on the present instead.

“Maybe I just didn’t find the right girl until now, “ he points out.

“You really do love her don't you?”

“I do and she loves me just as much,” he admits.

“Then it definitely doesn’t matter. This sweet boy has our blood and if he exists, I’m sure you married the queen right?”

“I did.”

“Then there’s nothing to handle we’ve gained two members to the pack,” she says as if its the most obvious thing in the world.

“I might need your help convincing Sansa of that.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll stand by your side through all this,” Arya vows.

“Thank you, Arya,” he says with a sense of relief hitting him, knowing now that he had two of his siblings on his side. 

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He watches as she glances out to the sea, listening to her advisors and allies.  

They had spent the entire day of his arrival talking just the two of them. They had yelled, they had cried, they held each other, and she had even slapped him at one point, but it had all been necessary. The lack of communication between them had led to their downfall and they knew they had to get that right this time. There was still tension between them. They both forgave the other, but neither can forget what the other did.

Trust was something they would both need to earn and regain but she had taken the first step towards it by letting him into her council meeting, against Tyrion’s protests. Her allies were a bit weary at seeing him and Ser Davos in the meeting when he had yet to bend the knee or declare for their queen, but she didn’t care, she wanted him there.

And as he listens to her allies and advisors argue he understands why.

“If you want the Iron Throne, take it,” Yara Greyjoy declares, “We have an army, a fleet, and three dragons. We should hit Kings Landing now, hard, with everything we have. The city will fall within a day.”

“We turn the dragons loose and tens of thousands will die in the firestorms,” Tyrion points out before being interrupted by Ellaria Sand.

“It’s called war. If you don’t have the stomach for it, scurry back into hiding.”

“I know how you wage war,” Tyrion nearly growls in anger towards the woman who killed his niece.

“Enough!” he nearly shouts, stopping the arguing. All eyes, including Dany’s turn to look at him, surprised by his outburst and commanding tone.  “Arguing amongst each other is not going to help the Queen obtain the Iron Throne.”

“And do you truly want her to obtain the throne? As far as we know, you have yet to bend the knee to our queen,” Lady Olenna asks and he can’t feel but shrink slightly at her tone and gaze. That is until he remembers who he is.

I am Aegon Targaryen, I will not cower to anyone.

“Aye, I do. The queen will not find a more faithful supporter than I, regardless of me bending the knee or not,” he declares. He takes a quick glance towards Daenerys and he sees a slight smile appreciating his declaration.

“The King of the North is right,” Dany speaks, and he knows that her refusal to use his bastard name any longer is the reason for the use of his title. “Arguing amongst us is useless and counterproductive. Ser Davos?”

“Yes, Your Grace?” his Hand stumbles, seeming to be surprised by being addressed to.

“You lived through the Siege of Storms End and have lived in Flea Bottom in Kings Landing, correct?” she asks him.

“Yes, I did,” Davos answers.

“Tell me, is it humane to starve the people of Kings Landing in a siege that may last weeks if not months? Will those people suffer because the current occupier of the Iron Throne refuses to surrender it?” his Queen asks and he can see the fire in her eyes, and he notices that Lady Olenna seems to be glad at seeing this in their queen.

“Yes, they would, your Grace. Many will die, maybe just as many as a full out assault, except that with the siege they will have suffered for much longer,” Ser Davos admits.

“Alright then,” she then turns and faces Tyrion, “we will not make a siege. That plan depends on your sister surrendering and I think we all know that she never will. She would rather destroy the entire city than lose that throne,” she declares and he can see the pleased looks on the faces of the Ladies in the room.

“Then what do you suggest?” Tyrion asks and he can see the frustration on the Lannister’s face.

“With your permission, your Grace. May I suggest something?” he offers, trying to take away some of the load from her. She gives him a nod and he moves towards the opposite end of the table, preparing to reveal his plan. “Casterly Rock is useless. Cersei won’t try to retreat and even if she did, she could easily be stopped by the forces of the Reach. I suggest you send the Dothraki to High Garden to protect the gold and harvest,” he moves the piece representing the Dothraki to High Garden with the rose piece.

“As the Starks like to remind us Winter is Coming and food will be needed no matter what, so protecting it must be a priority. With the open fields, the Dothraki forces will be at an advantage. Meanwhile, the Greyjoy fleet will travel with Lady Ellaria to gather the Dornish armies and bring them to the capital,” he once again moves the pieces into position.

“However they must be escorted by the dragons. We can’t risk Euron Greyjoy ambushing the fleet and either killing you or sending you to Cersei,” he says staring at both Yara and Ellaria both who give him a silent thanks. “Once those forces are collected they could meet the Unsullied at the gates of the capital, the dragons burn down the gates and the combined forces easily take the capital.”

He looks around the room and sees approval from the Ladies of Westeros, Ser Davos also has a look of approval and even the Dothraki bloodriders and Grey Worm appear to agree with his plan. Tyrion however does not.

“If we use the Unsullied and the Dothraki, Cersei will use the fact that they are foreign armies to rally the other houses against the Queen,” the small man argues.

“Aye, she will. But it won’t matter, those are the Queen’s people and the Lords and Ladies of Westeros must come to accept that. They are just as much people as they are and just as loyal to their Queen as they should be. Let them be an example of the esteem the Queen has to those who are loyal to her. But in the end, the decision is yours, your Grace.”

He can see the indecision in his Queen’s face. They both know what needs to be done, that this is the best they could do. But he knows that the fear of what she did before, what she became, is stopping her from making the decision.

“You know I’m right. Your allies are right, it must be attacked sooner rather than later,” he says softly, and he feels everyone’s attention turn to him, but his focus is only on Dany. “I know what’s going through your head right now, but you won’t be alone up there, I’ll be on Rhaegal and everything will end quickly.”

“And how exactly will you be on one of the Queen’s dragons? Only a Targaryen can ride a dragon,” Varys asks.

He sighs, knowing that this had to be revealed, at least to those here in the room.

“Because he is my nephew, Lord Varys,” Dany reveals.

He looks around the room and he sees the shock on everyone’s face, except for Ser Davos and Missandei, who Dany revealed everything to upon her return.

“He is the son of my brother Rhaegar and his second wife Lyanna Stark,” she continues to explain, and they all look to him for confirmation, he can especially see Theon’s eyes begging him to either confirm or deny what their queen is saying.

“It's true. There is a diary by the High Septum that married them that confirms the annulment of his marriage with Elia Martell and his performance of the secret ceremony. My uncle Eddard Stark found my mother dying from childbirth and took me in as his bastard to keep me safe from Robert’s wrath.”

“And you believe this?” Tyrion asks in disbelief.

“I do,” Dany answers without a second thought and no one questions it or her.

“You do understand that this means that he would be the rightful heir to the Iron Throne?” Varys points out and he shakes his head.

“There is no rightful heir. Our family lost that power and claim by Robert’s conquest and our family, namely Daenerys, will reclaim it the same way,” he proclaims.

“That’s a nice sentiment young man. Unfortunately, the lords of the realm won’t care about that. You are a man and, in their minds, just that fact alone is enough to make you a better choice,” Olenna points out and he, unfortunately, knows she right.

“Well there is one thing that would solve all the issues of who would be the rightful ruler,” Ser Davos says and they all turn to look at him. “What if the seven kingdoms for once in their shit history were ruled by both a just woman and an honorable man. Both equal in ruling all through marriage.”

He freezes and he can tell Dany does as well. How had they not thought of that before? In their past lives... that would have solved almost all their problems. He needs to lean on the legendary painted table to get a grasp of everything.

“My Lords and Ladies, could I please be left alone to discuss this with the queen?”  he asks and he sees that they turn to Dany who dismisses them with a simple nod but not before saying.

“I should not have to but I must remind you all that if anything that has been spoken in this room is revealed to anyone else, it will be treason.”

Everyone nods and most of the people in the room stand to leave except for Lady Tyrell who seems to want to say something to them.

“Yes, Lady Olenna? Dany asks as they’re left alone except for the Lady of Highgarden.

“I can tell you both are not being completely honest with us. That you don’t seem to trust us enough,” she begins. “I respect that. But in my old age, life has taught me to see things that others miss. You two love each other,” she states and neither of them tries to deny it. “And love can be dangerous. It can and will be used against you by those sheep that are the lords of Westeros. But you two have something that no one else has. You two have the blood of dragons. You two are dragons and to win this game you need to be dragons.”

The lady stands up and leaves them alone.  

Be dragons. Be dragons.

“What are you thinking?” she asks him, bringing him out of his thoughts.

“Nothing and yet everything,” he sighs before facing her. He sees that she’s thinking just as much, and he decides to simply hold her.

“She’s right you know,” she says from within his embrace. “we need to be dragons. Last time I didn’t listen to her and look where that got us.” He only holds her a bit tighter. “But I’m afraid to be a dragon again.”

“A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing,” he whispers, repeating the words he once overheard the Maester of Castle Black say to Samwell. He had no idea how true those words were until he saw how much being alone affected a Targaryen. “But you’re not alone anymore, you’ll never be alone again. You won’t carry the burden of being a dragon by yourself again.”

They just stand there in silence holding each other.

“Your Hand seems to be more clever than my own,” Dany says, interrupting their silence.

“Aye he seems to be,” he sighs. “Dany… I want to marry you, but…”

“You once told me Ned Stark taught you that anything before the word but was…” she laughs before she can finish the saying and he laughs as well.

“I did,” he pulls slightly away to look into her eyes. “I love you. I love you more than anything than anyone and I want you to marry me not because my Hand suggested it or because it will rid of us of a lot of problems but because you truly wish to marry me.”

He can tell she’s about to answer him, but he stops her.

“Not tonight, not right now. With or without your answer I will be at your side,” he vows, and he places a soft kiss on her brow, content enough just to have this right now.

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He never thought the day would come when he would say he missed the South, but it has. As he sits here and listens to the Northern Lords argue like children all at once, he misses the order and the respect the South had. The lords would argue yes but they knew their place and spoke in turn.

He listens as Sansa tries to call them to order and a look towards their advisors, mainly Lady Olenna, lets him know they’re tired of all this as well. Dany is standing behind him and a quick glance reveals that if she wasn't rocking Aemon to sleep, she would have unleashed her fury on these Lords.

Finally, some order arrives, and Sansa begins to list off the preparations she's made for the war against the dead. Most of their allies are here in Winterfell and they want all their people to stay here as well.

“The women and children are not safe here at Winterfell,” he announces as Sansa tries to get Lord Umber to bring his people here. “They should be sent to White Harbor. The Crown will provide the necessary horses and wagons and once there the Greyjoy Fleet will ferry them down South.”

This just seems to set off the Lords again as they start their yelling again. He hears Dany behind him telling one of their faithful Dothraki to take Aemon to their quarters. He gives Ghost a brief look and with a small movement of his head gives the loyal direwolf the order to follow his son and stay at his side. The direwolf silently follows the Dothraki and so do some of the guards Dany’s ordered. When she turns to face the grumbling Northerners, he can see her eyes burning with fury.

“That will be enough,” she says in an ice-cold voice that the Northern Lords have no choice but to listen and quite down. “The King made it sound like a request, but it was an order. The common people, those who cannot fight will be sent south. We will not have the blood of innocents on our hands because their liege lords were too stubborn to listen to reason.”

“The King? Is that really what he is?” they watch a Lady Lyanna Mormont stands up and faces him. “You left here a King, a King we chose, and you came back as what, exactly?”

“I am still a King,” he begins to explain but is interrupted.

“Yes, a King who gave away the North because a foreign whore opened her legs for him,” Lord Glover sneers from his seat. The room completely silences and it grows colder than beyond the wall. But not for him, he feels dragon fire running rampage in his veins.

The lights of the hall rattle and a loud roar are heard right above. His seat screeches against the stone floor as he stands. The edges of his vision turn red and his entire focus is on the Lord of Deepwood Motte.

He strides around the head table towards the insolent Lord.

“Jon!” he faintly hears what sounds like Sansa’s voice calling out to him, but he can’t hear anything besides his own heartbeat and breathing.  

No one even dares to stop him as he grabs the larger man by his armor and drags him onto the floor, forcing him to kneel before him.

“Now tell me, Lord Glover,” he snarls at the man, not letting go of the leather straps of his armor, “what would you do if a man came before you and insulted your wife the way you just did mine?”

He feels the Lord tremble in his hands and sees the fear in his eyes, but it isn’t enough to stop the rage he feels inside of him.

“Not only is she my wife, but she is also the mother of my child and the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. What would be the appropriate punishment for such impertinence, my Lord?” he doesn’t answer. “Tell me!” he demands in a yell.

Another roar is heard from outside and he sees the Lord near ready relieve himself on the floor. He gives him a shove to the floor and walks back to the head table.

“If I hear another word uttered by you Lord Glover, I will personally take your head and feed the rest of you to my dragon,” he vows as he once again takes a seat, not removing his glare from the Lord as he stumbles to his feet and back into his seat.

The lights once again shake as Rhaegal flies away and he takes a steadying breath. Their Southern Lords and advisors seem pleased at his reaction, while Sansa and the Northern lords look scandalized. He looks at his Queen and she simply raises an eyebrow.

“You’re lucky our King is on the merciful side, my Lord, otherwise we would have one less commander,” Lady Olenna says breaking the silence with an amused smile.  “Above all the Queen is a woman and a lady, you at least need to respect her as such.”

“Thank you, my Lady Hand, I’m sure Lord Glover has learned his lesson,” Daenerys says, keeping her regality and composure although he knows she’s probably laughing on the inside. “Now Lady Lyanna to answer your question, my husband is King because he is my equal, he is not my consort nor I his. Down in Kings Landing, we both sit on equal thrones and rule together.”

“When I went South, my Lords and Ladies I told you that in order to survive the war to come we needed allies,” he says now that his rage is back under control. As he stands Dany takes a seat. “I did just that. By marrying Queen Daenerys, I secured armies from all the Southern Kingdoms, a Dothraki horde, an army of Unsullied, Dragonglass, and three full-grown dragons. If that’s not doing right by the North, I’m not sure what is.”

“We only know one ruler and that ruler has to be a Stark,” one of the other Lords declares and the lords voice their agreements as they begin to look to Sansa.

“My Lords and Ladies, you chose me to be your King. I still have Stark blood, nothing about that has changed. Stark blood now sits on the throne,” realization seems to begin to seep into the Northerners. “My son will one day rule the Seven Kingdoms and he too has Stark blood and his children and his children’s children. You all got what you wanted a king with Stark Blood.”

There seems to be a positive chatter among the lords, but he knows he needs to move on before more questions start being asked. He had gathered with Bran, Dany, and their hands Lady Olenna and Ser Davos to see what the best thing to do was and after discussing many options they had decided to keep his real identity quiet until after the war was won.

“But none of that matters if we cannot defeat the Night King and his army. My Queen knows this, I know this our allies know this. I just need the North to understand this. We now have the greatest army the world has ever seen and we must come together in order to survive,” he says and finally, there are cheers of agreement.

“Aye, let’s show these southerners how much better us Northerners are!” one man shouts and the others cheer along.

He sits and looks to his advisors who are rolling their eyes at the antics of the Northern Lords. Dany has a soft smile on her face, and he can’t help but take her hand a place a soft kiss on the back of it. He’s going to hate being referred to by his bastard name again but he knows that otherwise, his family would be in danger.

“Jon,” Sansa says to him as the final Northern lord leaves the hall. He turns away from his wife to look at his sister. “The storage supplies were meant to feed only the Northern forces, we can’t feed the armies you’ve brought or three dragons,” she vents anger in her voice.

“Do not worry Lady Stark, as Lady of High Garden, Lady Olenna has made sure we have enough to feed all of the troops, including the north if it is necessary. There is no need for you to worry,” Dany answers with a tight smile and Sansa leaves. He sighs at his sister’s behavior, knowing he’s going to have to talk to her alone eventually.

“That girl spent too much time with Cersei and Littlefinger,” Olenna speaks as she stands to leave as well, “you’re right not to trust her with anything yet. Now you two go and rest we may have won this battle but we both know it's going to get harder to convince these stubborn fools.”

The Hand bows respectfully before leaving the hall.

“She’s right you know,” Ser Davos speaks, standing before them. “We take this one day at a time and trust no one. Priority is the War and getting everyone to safety and armed.”

“Please start sending the wagons and horses where they need to go, Ser Davos. The priority is getting the women and children to safety,” Dany orders and their hand nods.

“At once your Grace. Gendry has also informed me that he is finally finished with his work if you and his Grace want to do your final fitting,” Davos adds.

“He can meet us at our quarters tomorrow, Lady Olenna is right, we both need some rest,” he admits, and the former smuggler smiles at them.

“Aye, you two need it, go and rest, I’ll try to handle what I can,” the knight says and they both stand to retire to their quarters.

He feels Dany interlock their arms and leans against his arm.

“How are you, truly?” he asks concerned for her wellbeing, as they walk.

“I’m tired, still sore, I need to feed Aemon soon,” she voices honestly. “But how about you? I feared Rhaegal was going to break the ceiling.”

He sighs as they reach their quarters and she dismisses everyone from their room.

“I hate that I let him go. I hate that they believe they have a right to say those things,” he feels his anger growing again. He closes his eyes to get it back under control but with a simple touch, all of it fades away. He opens his eyes and looks into his love’s, turning his head slightly to kiss one of the palms on his face.

“It’s nothing I haven’t heard before,” she reminds him. “But I need you to remember that you’re here with me. No matter what they say or what they do,  I won’t feel the same way I did the last time we came to Winterfell.”

He can’t help but kiss her at that moment to show her how different things are between them from the last time they were here. He presses her closer to him and tries to push things a little further but she stops him.

“Not yet,” she says breathlessly and if just on cue the reason for them not being able to continue begins to cry. “Go to bed love, I’ll join you when he’s done.”

He listens to her and after removing his armor and furs climbs into bed. He tries hard to wait for her but the exhaustion of the day and the journey finally catches up to him and he drifts to sleep.

Chapter Text

She closes her eyes as the breeze picks up and blows through her loose hair. She feels the presence of her three children behind her and opens her eyes to look at the Narrow Sea and the setting sun. Since they landed on Dragonstone weeks ago, she has found herself spending more time out on these cliffs than inside the castle. She’s found peace and tranquility out here alone. And isolation gives her time. The time that she needs to think, to reflect and to repent. 

She still sees it when she closes her eyes at times. She sees her past life, all the deaths, all the destruction, his eyes after she feels the cold dagger in her chest. She regrets what she did the final days of her previous life. Not a day goes by when she doesn’t beg for forgiveness from the gods and from all the people she murdered, knowing she would never get it. 

But still, she also remembers all the things she lost and takes her time to mourn. Her dragons, Ser Jorah, her Dothraki, her Unsullied, her best friend…

A grumble from her largest son, makes her wipe her tears and turn to see a familiar white direwolf standing in the middle of her dragons, completely unafraid. She smiles and pats the grass next to her. The direwolf trots to her side before laying down and placing his head on her lap. She remembers when her sons were this small and runs her hand through the direwolf’s fur similar to the way she used to caress her sons. A chirping from Rhaegal lets her know someone else has joined them.

“You’re ruining brooding for me,” she hears his Northern voice behind her and she can’t stop herself from smiling.

“How so? I'm sure no one broods more than you do and you’ve practically perfected the art,” she asks teasingly as he takes a seat next to Ghost.

“Aye but you look a lot more pretty doing it than I do,” he says and she laughs. She loves seeing how his face brightens anytime he sees her happy.

“I assure you, you look quite pretty doing it as well,” she teases back knowing how much he dislikes being called pretty. A slight scowl forms on his face before he too laughs. “I’m assuming Missandei told you where I was.”

“She did,” he confirms, seriousness taking over his features followed by extreme sadness. “But she told me a few things about what you do out here. Is it true?”

One look into his eyes and she knows what he’s talking about. Her hand travels unconsciously to her abdomen as she remembers the last thing she lost and that seems to be all the confirmation he needs.

She never got an opportunity to tell him in their last life and she hadn’t had the heart to tell him now.  She saw how much it hurt him to know he killed her and she couldn’t imagine what knowing that he killed their child would do to him. They were getting better, healing together and she couldn’t break him. She had decided that it would be her burden to bear alone.  But now it seems Missandei had let him know what she would come out here to mourn every day.

She fights back the tears as she once again looks to the horizon, unable to look at him.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” she hears the break in his voice, the sob he’s trying to hold back.

“I… I didn’t want to hurt you anymore,” she whimpers. “I’ve done that enough. I didn’t want you to carry any more burdens than you already do.”  She hears him standing up and moving towards her.

He kneels in front of her, tears streaming down his face, getting caught in his beard.

“You didn’t have to go through this alone… the babe was ours,” he sobs and she sobs with him. He pulls her onto his lap and gently rocks her as they weep for their babe that never had the chance to live. She hears him mutter apologies, begging for forgiveness. She tries her best to soothe him to remind him that he didn’t know and it wasn’t his fault. The dragons sing a sad song one she had only heard when Viserion and Rhaegal passed. Ghost howls sadly next to them, joining the creatures that are now his brothers.

She does, however, have a memory, something she had kept hidden deep in her heart that always soothed her pain.

“I saw her,” she whispers to him.

“What?” he asks trying to stop his tears.

“After I… after I died,” she feels him shutter at the reminder, “I came here to this cliff and there was a little girl standing here. She had your curls and my eyes… she was beautiful, love,” she starts weeping again and she feels his tears land on her head. “She told me not to be sad that I was going to go back and fix everything and be happy with her Papa,” she hears another choked sob from him.  “Bran came to me then and told me what was going to happen. Part of me wanted to stay there with her to hold her forever but both she and Bran reminded me that I still had you, that I had to keep living.”

He hugs her tighter and she feels him press a kiss to her head.

“Did you name her?” he asks, his voice still shaking.

“Yes. I named her Lyanna, after your mother,” she admits and he sobs again.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

They sit in silence, both staring out to the sea, neither willing to let the other go.

“I’m going to come with you now. Everyday. This will be her spot, her cliff. We’ll honor her through that it’s the least we can do,” he says and she just nods.

“She’ll always be our first,” she murmurs.

“Aye, Lyanna Targaryen, First of her Name, Princess of the Seven Kingdoms,” he states as tears continue to fall from them both.

They will always miss their little girl and they will never forget. But now they have one thing more to fight for, one more reason to make things right in the realm and between them.

Their sweet Lyanna.

Chapter Text

It had taken him longer than he wanted to be able to bring his wife and son down here, but he finally has.

It’s only their second day here in Winterfell and his attention has been pulled in every direction and his patience has been worn thin. Dany had thankfully been able to handle all the needs of the Southern armies including those of the Unsullied and Dothraki. The Northern lords, however, kept questioning any decision he made asking if it was a Southerner who thought of what he proposed. It didn’t help that Sansa seemed to want to undermine him any opportunity she had.

“My Lords this needs to stop. If you all insist on questioning every single decision, I make I will hold you all in contempt and assume you’re preparing to commit treason!” he yelled out in an attempt to stop all this nonsense.

“My brother is right. The decisions he’s making make sense and seems to be the best option we have to defeat the dead,” Arya thankfully spoke up and none of the Northerners dare to argue with the young she-wolf.

A knock on the door of the war room drew his attention away from the stubborn lot before him. He saw Ser Jorah walk into the room, causing more grumbling from the lords and some concern on his part.

“Ser Jorah, is the Queen alright? My son?” he asked trying to push down the slight panic he began to feel.

“They are fine, Your Grace. Qhono is with the Queen and the prince is with his mother. I made sure they were well protected before coming here,” Jorah clarified, and he sighed in relief. “The Queen sent me to remind you that you’re meant to make some introductions.”

With a nod he prepared to leave the room but once more Sansa seemed to have the need to question him.

“Where are you going? We still haven’t come to an agreement on battle strategy,” she had said.

“Nor will we as long as you keep trying to undermine me,” he whispered to his sister. “I need to go pay my respects,” he announced louder for everyone else to hear. “Or is that something else I need to get your approval of?” he asked them all and to his amusement, most of the lords show some shame in their behavior. He glared at Sansa one last time and stormed out of the room.

“You're awfully pensive, my love,” his wife's voice bringing him back to the present.

“Don’t you mean broody? That’s usually what you call me,” he answers back, with a smile.

He turns his head to look at his wife as they take the last step into the crypt. As he takes her in with this lightning and setting, flashes of the last time they were here in their previous life begin to overtake him.

It had been the beginning of the end for them. The hurt in her eyes. The realization of what the truth meant. The knowledge that they might die soon and that their last moments were ruined by his identity.

“Shh, breathe, my love,” he feels her gloved hand on his cheek and his vision begins to return to the present. He takes a settling breath.

“I'm sorry. Being here at Winterfell is bringing more of these flashes back,” he explains but his wife simply leans in to kiss him, careful not to crush the little boy in her arms.

“I know and I'll be here for you just as you're there for me,” she vows and he nods placing a soft kiss on her brow.

They begin walking towards the tomb where the remains of his mother rest.

“I remember when I was younger I would have nightmares about this place,” he confesses in a soft voice.

“Why?”

“The Kings of Winter and Lords of Winterfell would come out of their tombs to yell at me that I wasn’t a Stark,” he says with a sigh. “I guess they were right. I'm not a Stark.”

They arrive at his mother’s statue and the weight of those words hits him. Growing up that was the only thing he ever wanted: to be a Stark, to be wanted, to be loved, to have a family. 

The irony is that he never found those things with the Starks.

No, instead he had found it in the last blood relative from his father’s side who had lived her entire life in exile on the other side of the Narrow Sea.  They had found each other despite the odds. She loved him, wanted him, made him feel happiness he had never felt before and all that, while they still believed he was a bastard.

She was the family he always wanted. And now with their son, their family felt even more complete. 

“No, you’re not,” he hears her agree and turns to look into her eyes. “But you do have their blood and you were raised by your uncle who was one of the most honorable men. I owe him your life and who you are as a person. You may not carry the name but you're just as much a Stark as any of those buried down here or living upstairs.”

He feels his heart swell and gives her a soft kiss.

“Thank you, Dany,” he whispers.

He turns once again to his mother’s statue and takes a step towards her.  He leaves a winter rose in her hand, a reminder of his father who had died at the Trident with her name on his lips. He also lights the candle next to her before stepping back towards his wife and child.  He feels Dany interlock their arms, giving him the support he’s going to need, and he grabs her hand seeking the strength to say what he truly feels.

“Mother…” his voice catches. He begins to feel a slight burning in his eyes, and he tries to blink the sensation away.  “My whole life, I wanted to know who you were, to know if you wanted me and loved me as much as I saw other mothers love their children. And to find out you had been so close to me my entire life…” he takes a breath. “As soon as I came back from my past life, I wanted to visit you, to tell you everything I felt. But I realized that I needed to truly be your son, be the man you wanted me to be and accept the name and power you bestowed upon me before I could come to see you,” he needs to swallow to fight the rising tightness in his throat. “I couldn’t do that before. I couldn’t accept who I was, that I had been lied to my entire life. It was the end of the world, Mother, and my entire world was falling apart, not because of the Night King but because of the truth.”

He needs to close his eyes in an attempt to calm down. He feels a soft squeeze on his arm and hears a small cooing sound and he finds the strength to continue.

“I felt so angry, so betrayed and I wanted to blame you, Father, Uncle Ned, even the woman I loved, for everything. And in the end, she and our little girl ended up paying for it,” he doesn’t bother to stop the flow of tears caused by remembering the two people he killed and that only one of them was here now. “But I was given a second chance. Not only to accept my identity but to accept my love,” he gives a small smile, holding on a bit tighter to his family. “You found your dragon just as I found mine. I love her and, for some reason still unknown to me, she loves me. She’s given me a beautiful son that is perfect and is my pride and joy. She gave me a daughter who she graciously named after you, even after I betrayed them.”

He feels Dany place a kiss against his arm, trying to take away some of the pain.

“I came down here to thank you for giving me the chance to live and to tell you that I am your son Aegon and no longer Jon Snow. That I accept who you wanted me to be and that I will cherish and embrace any blessing I receive because of your sacrifice and this second chance I’ve been given. I have no right to ask for more from you, but I ask you to please watch over our little girl, wherever she may be. She didn’t deserve to pay for our mistakes and neither of us wants her to be alone,” he hears Dany trying to muffle her cries against his arm and he turns his body to embrace his family.

He finds solace with his family in his arms and knowing that he has finally spoken to his mother. A giant weight had finally been lifted off his shoulders.

It takes them both a few minutes to gather themselves, but their eyes are still filled with their emotions.

“I love you,” his wife whispers to him.

“I love you too. Both of you,” he places a gentle kiss on his son’s brow before placing one on his wife’s lips.

They stand there as a family, silently contemplating the statue of Lyanna Stark and enjoying the peace found in the crypts. That is until they hear someone stumbling in. He’s quick to push his family behind him, his hand on Longclaw ready to draw it if necessary.

To his surprise he sees Sam. Surprise until he remembers why Sam had sought him out in the crypts last time and if the sudden tensing indicates anything, his wife does as well.

“Sam? What are you doing down here?”

“I… I,” he stutters out and seems to realize Dany is behind him. “My apologies, Your Grace, I had hoped to catch Jon alone.”

“No worries I can…” he feels her take a step away from him but he wraps his arm around her, stopping her from leaving his side.

“No,” he says firmly, hopefully showing what she needs to understand in his eyes before looking back at Sam.  “I hope you can understand but I don’t want my family alone, Sam. Besides whatever you need to tell me she can hear as well.”

“I'm not sure she should. I think this is something you and I should talk about alone, it’s quite necessary,” Sam insists.

“Is it?” Dany asks in a serious voice.

“Is it what?” Sam asks.

“Necessary,” she answers and he watches as Sam gulps and slightly trembles at his wife’s coldness.

“B…Bran thinks it’s not necessary but I do,” Sam stutters out, confirming what he’s here to talk about. 

He sighs and looks sadly upon his former brother.

“Bran was right, it’s not necessary. If you value our friendship I would not speak of whatever it is you came down here to talk to me about,” he answers and begins to guide his family away towards the entrance of the crypts.

“You’re the rightful heir to the Iron Throne!” his once friend exclaims.  Both he and Dany turn around to face Sam and he takes it as a sign to continue. “You’re the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, they were mar…”

“Married in a secret ceremony in Dorne after he annulled his marriage to Elia Martell. I assure you Samwell Tarly that my nephew knows exactly who he is,” Daenerys interrupts leaving Sam gaping.

“You do? So you knew you and her,” Sam starts but stops once he takes in the glare he’s giving him.

“Aye I knew,” he tries to keep his anger in check.

“Oh,” Sam says so casually as if he doesn’t realize the impact the truth he tried to reveal carried.

“My question, however, is what exactly did you seek to accomplish with that information,” Daenerys asks bringing up the question burning in his mind.

“I…I didn’t seek anything, Your Grace. I just thought Jon deserved to know,” he stumbles but even he can tell there’s something else behind it.

“There must be something,” Dany says as she gently hands Aemon over to him before she walks towards Sam. “Because if Bran thought it not necessary and you went on and tried to reveal this information to my husband there must be a reason.”

He watches as she stares into Sam’s eyes and he can see the fear in them. Then realization seems to hit Daenerys.

“You know about your father,” she says and he watches Sam’s eyes widen and fill with tears.

“My brother sent me a raven, told me you burned him alive,” Sam answers, his voice trembling.

“I did,” Dany answers, no regret in her voice.

“You had no right,” the man tries to argue, and he sees the fire in his wife’s eyes.

“I had every right. Your father betrayed his liege lord, betrayed Lady Tyrell, my Hand, and sided with the Lannisters to take Highgarden for himself,” she answers with all the power of a Queen. “He was a traitor and you very well know the punishment for that.”

“You could have spared him, sent him to the wall,” Sam continues to argue.

“I gave him a choice. I offered to send him to the Wall and take the Black, but he refused,” she explains, not giving any ground in the argument. “Even Jon would have killed him.”

“No, he wouldn’t have. He’s spared many people…”

“But I’ve killed many traitors as well,” he finally decides to step into the conversation. “Your father was a horrible man and there’s no reason for you to defend him. But you telling me the truth wouldn’t bring him back, wouldn’t change anything.”

He realizes something that he failed to see in his past life, something that had been staring at him in the face all this time. He feels his breath leave him as this betrayal comes to the forefront.

“You will realize who you can and cannot trust this time Jon. It will be much easier to see but it will hurt much more.”

Bran’s words echo through his head as the scars littered across his chest all pulse in pain.

Another sworn brother betraying me.

“You wanted to hurt her through me. You wanted me to turn away from her, to betray her,” he voices his thoughts and Sam makes no attempt to deny it. “You knew we were married, that we had a child, and you still wanted to tear us apart?”

“Jon…” Sam starts but he doesn’t want to hear pathetic excuses. One look down into the small grey eyes staring up at him and he knows exactly what to do.

“I’m not sure if you feel this way about Little Sam or about Gilly but my son and my wife are the most important things to me, Sam,” he says without looking up from his son. “I will put them before anyone and anything. I saved your life many times, I helped you keep your family, sent you to the Citadel to study as you always wanted, you were my sworn brother.”

He takes a deep breath, flashings his son a small smile before turning serious before looking at Samwell Tarly.

“This is my last mercy for you, for your family. Go south Samwell. Take Gilly and Little Sam and go South, beg your brother for a home and never cross my path again. From this moment on you are a traitor of the crown and if you ever come before me or my family, I will take your head. That is my order as Aegon Targaryen Sixth of my name, King of the Seven Kingdoms. Now go,” he practically growls the last sentence and Sam quickly scrambles out of the crypts.

“Aegon,” he hears Dany’s soft voice say his name for the first time since they arrived north. He sees some guilt in her eyes, but it is almost completely drowned out by pride and desire. He feels his blood burning and he takes his free arm to pull his wife towards him. He kisses her hard, putting everything he has into this kiss.

He’s not sure which of them moans but babbling makes them separate and they stare into each other’s eyes completely breathless.

“We need to go,” she points out and he nods, placing his forehead against hers as they try to steady their breath.

“How long?” he asks and she smiles.

“Soon my love, soon.”

 

Chapter Text

He finds her on the cliffs again. Not on Lyanna’s cliff as she was yesterday but at the cliff where their dragons and direwolf tended to rest. They had spent the rest of the day before holding each other, imagining a life that might have been with their little girl.

He imagined her first steps, holding her hand in the Red Keep or here in the halls of Dragonstone. Teaching her how to how to ride, how to hold a sword, for no child of his was going to be defenseless. He could almost hear her voice calling him Papa as she would run towards him.

They had held each other at night as well. Dany had refused to be alone and asked him to stay the night. And he was never going to deny her his affection ever again.

He still wasn’t sure what this new life would bring or if he and Dany would be blessed with another child but he will always dream of forming a family with the woman he loves.

Ghost and Rhaegal notice his arrival and both demand his attention. He laughs at their behavior especially when they knock him to the ground. He hears Dany’s laughter and his amusement grows.

“I'm going to get hurt one of these days and your mother is not going to be happy about that,” he points out to their beastly children. Both direwolf and dragon simply let out matching huffs of breath. He can even feel their smugness in his mind.

She’ll never be angry with us.

He can hear Dany’s laughter as she probably feels Rhaegal's thoughts through her bond with him. 

“My sweet boys let your father stand, I sent for him for a reason,” Dany says and both beasts step away and allow him to stand. They receive some caresses from their mother before turning their attention back to their siblings.

Dany walks towards him a smile on her face, he holds his arms open and she steps into them, wrapping her arms around him.

“Thank you for staying with me last night. It was the first time I've really slept since I came back,” she admits, and he kisses the top of her head.

“Anything. Anything you want or need from me I'll give,” he vows.

They stand there in silence. Silence had brought them peace since their reunion. It gave them time to think and enjoy the simplicity of their presences.

“Yesterday we agreed no more secrets and to be completely honest with each other,” Dany starts, pulling away from him to look into his eyes.

“We did,” he agrees, wary of what else she could have kept from him.

“I…  I need your help. I can’t… I haven’t…” she struggles to reveal whatever is bothering her.

“I'll help with whatever it is Dany,” he says trying to soothe her.

“Drogon.”

He understands then. Since he’s been on the island, not once had he seen her fly on Drogon.

“Dany… the fleet sails for Dorne tonight,” he points out and he watches her eyes fill with fear and tears.

“I know that Jon! I've tried. Since I came back. I've tried but every time I do I go back to that day. I see the flames, the destruction, I hear the screams of fear and horror and I can’t…”

She’s trying to keep herself together, that much he can see. But he can also see how deep her fear runs. An idea crosses his mind and he takes her hand in his, leading her to the largest of the dragons.

“Jon?” she asks as he stands in front of her fiercest child.

“Drogon, you know why your mother won't mount you. What she’s afraid of,” he reminds the dragon, who, like his brothers and Ghost, remembers through the memories he and Dany have. He feels the assertion from the dragon and keeps talking.

“She’s scared and we may need to go into battle tonight. I need her to feel safe and be able to ride alone with you while I ride on Rhaegal,” he feels his understanding and continues.

“But right now, I need to ride you with her, so she doesn’t feel alone up there. So, she’ll know and understand that I will never leave her alone again. Please, Drogon.”

It feels like the dragon is staring into his soul as neither of them blinks. Drogon moves his head forward and gives him a slight push with his snout before turning and baring his shoulder for them to climb on.

“Thank you, Drogon,” he says softly guiding Dany towards the dragon. She turns to look at him, stopping them before they could climb up.

“Jon,” she whispers, and he takes her hand and places a kiss on the back of it.

“You are Daenerys Targaryen, the Mother of Dragons, and for us to succeed tonight we need you to be that. I know that I’m asking a lot from you, that I’m asking you to trust me and put aside the memory of what happened and if there was another way I would take it to spare you all of it, but I can’t,” he explains and she nods knowing that it is true.

“I trust you. But for me to be who you want me to be, I need you to do the same,” she tells him. “As much as I love him, I can’t do this with Jon Snow. Jon Snow was the man who betrayed me, who could not accept that I was of his blood and love me regardless of that, who chose to be a wolf and killed the last dragons. I can’t have that man up there with me.”

It feels like he’s getting stabbed with each fault she points out but she’s right. He looks away trying to gather his thought and understand what she’s asking of him. They’ve revealed who she is to her allies and advisors but he has yet to truly accept who he needs to be.

“Do you understand Jon?”

“Kill the boy…” he says remembering the wise words his great-granduncle told him at the wall.

“What?” Dany asks confused by this.

“Our Uncle Aemon, when I was Lord Commander, he told me I needed to kill the boy and let the man be born,” he explains to her. “I thought I had done so when I let the Freefolk past the Wall, but I didn’t. The boy was Jon Snow, the Bastard of Winterfell, who felt that he wasn’t worthy of anything, not even love,” he looks at her again. “He died. He died the minute he betrayed his love and his queen. Jon Snow died with you Dany and he can’t come back. I need to be the man, I need to be Aegon Targaryen, for you and for me.”

He sees her joy at this, and she moves closer to him seeming to want to kiss him but stops herself, and instead places a kiss on his cheek before pulling away.

“Thank you,” she says softly before climbing up Drogon. He’s quick to follow and sits behind her.

 “What should I hold on to?” he says teasingly reminding them both of their first experience of flight together and he hears her giggle.

“Whatever you can,” she answers playfully.

He wraps his arms around her middle and his heart begins to pound as Drogon walks towards the edge of the cliff before diving towards the sea below.

Flying feels just as glorious as it did in his last life. He feels Rhaegal’s jealousy in his mind as Drogon begins to show off and tries to show his mother that there’s more to being a dragon than the destruction they had caused.

I’ll ride you soon, don’t worry.

He holds Dany tighter and even risks a few kisses on her neck. She relaxes in his arms and he can feel her enjoying herself.

Eventually, they need to land, and they can’t stop themselves from laughing just from pure joy. As they dismount, he feels something building in his blood.

Fire.

Looking into her eyes and he sees the same is happening to her and before either of them realizes it their lips meet, not gently but with all the passion they have held back, not only from this life but from the past one as well.

He missed this, he missed her. He missed the feeling of her lips on his, the taste of her mouth. He missed the way her fingers pulled at his curls and at his clothes. The memory of the last time he had kissed her threatens to come out and he pushes it back. He loves her and he will try to show her how much every day for the rest of their lives.

“Aegon,” he hears her moan and it just makes the fire burn hotter in him.

A growl makes them separate, both completely breathless and wanting for more. Thankfully Drogon’s body covers them from unwanted eyes.  

“Y… your Grace,” a voice stutters and more growls join the first as short steps approach them before they stop.

He groans knowing who it is and he tries his best to push down the anger that rises every time he sees him.

The Imp.

The one who convinced him and pushed him to kill his love, his Dany.  He had betrayed his queen both with Sansa and Varys. He hated the man and did not trust him as he once did. Daenerys seems to regain her composure before he does and responds to the little man.

“Yes, Lord Tyrion?”

“My Queen, we are awaiting you and Lord Snow to go over the plans one last time,” Tyrion calls out.

His growls join those of their children as he hears his bastard name. All the others had begun to refer to him as Lord Targaryen or Lord Aegon, even if he was still getting used to it. However, the dwarf insisted to call him Snow and did not fail to put in doubt his claim of being a Targaryen any opportunity he had. Instead of releasing his anger he channels it to kisses, moving his mouth up and down his Queen’s neck, sucking on the places he knows bring her the greatest pleasure. She tries to hide her moan as she continues to address her Hand.

“I will join you all in a moment,” she struggles to keep her voice from trembling.

“Are you alright, your Grace?” the dwarf asks.

His lips make their way to his queen’s ear before whispering breathlessly, “Get rid of him. Make him go away.”

She tugs at his curls, making him moan before he continues his assault.

“I’m fine Tyrion. Please leave I…” her voice falters for a second when his hand accidentally brushes against her breast. “I needed some time alone with my thoughts, give me a few more moments to collect them.”

“Alright, I’ll gather everyone to the War Room. Have you by chance seen Lord Snow?” the Hand asks.

“NO!” she exclaims when he sucks on an extremely sensitive spot.

The Dwarf of Casterly Rock says nothing and walks away then.

She pulls him off her neck with a tug on his hair.

“I hate him,” he says panting.

“I know, I know you do and knowing what we know, I don’t trust him as I once did,” she says caressing his face as they both try to collect themselves.

“Then get another Hand, another Spymaster,” he argues.

“I will once I find people to fill those positions,” she tells him.

“Lady Olenna seems to be a good candidate,” he points out.

“Maybe, but I would like to get to know her more before I make any decisions.”

“Alright.”

He attempts to straighten her hair and help her look presentable for the upcoming meeting but he’s sure they are both messes.

The desire in her eyes hasn’t left and he knows they both wish to be together.

“I want you. I want to be with you,” she admits.

“We will soon. When we’re both ready,” he assures her, placing one last kiss on her lips.

He offers his arm and she accepts it. Ghost loyally follows after them as they both make their way to the War Room together as Aegon and Daenerys Targaryen.

Chapter Text

She’s not sure why she's so nervous about going to the Queen's quarters. Jon had assured her that the Dragon Queen would be happy to receive and talk to her. But she was still nervous.

Maybe it was because she’s heard all about her accomplishments from across the Narrow Sea. Or maybe it was because she had three fire breathing dragons that she always fantasized about growing up as a child. But really it was because she can't forget the light in her brother's eyes when he talked about his wife or held his son.

Her brother loves this woman, more than anything. She remembers him not wanting women growing up, giving up the chance to have a family of his own by going to the Wall. He had changed, as much if not more than she has. And if she wants to be in her brother’s life she needs to get to know those who are the center of his world.

She takes a settling breath and knocks on the wooden door of the King’s Quarters.

“Come in,” she hears a voice call from inside and she pushes the door open. She sees the Dragon Queen sitting on the bed surrounded by her handmaidens. She's smiling and laughing, not minding who has just entered the room. Instead, her focus is on the little babe laying on the bed, who's soiled cloth was being changed by his mother. She’s doesn't know why but seeing the Queen acting like a normal mother surprises her.

“There you go, my love. All clean,” she coos, leaning down to kiss the baby’s little cheeks. The Queen finally looks up and sees her standing by the door. A flash of something shows in the Queen’s eyes but the smile never leaves her face.

“Lady Arya, I was not expecting you,” the Queen answers.

“My apologies if you are busy, Your Grace,” she says but the Queen simply shakes her head.

“No, I'm not busy,” the Queen assured her before she turns her attention to the other women in the room. “Could you leave us?”

“Are you sure, your Grace?” one of the women ask.

“Yes, I’m sure I can trust my husband’s favorite sister,” the Queen answers with a twinkle in her eye.

She can’t stop herself from smiling at hearing her brother’s wife call her his favorite. He’s never said it to her, it was just something that was known, but to hear his wife acknowledging that meant he had talked to his wife about her and that warmed her cold assassin heart a bit.

The Queen stands with the baby in her arms and allows her handmaidens to say their goodbyes to the little prince before leaving the room. As the door closes the Queen places the babe in a small bassinet and sits in at the table before gesturing her to sit as well.

“Thank you for this time, Your Grace,” she says, taking a seat.

“Daenerys,” the Queen says.

“What?” she asks.

“Please call me Daenerys. We are a family now.”

“Daenerys. In that case, I’m not a Lady so Arya should be enough,” she counters.

“Very well, Arya. What do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” Daenerys asks.

“I came to see,” she starts.

“To see what?” Daenerys asks.

“The woman my brother claims to love.”

She watches understanding glosses over the Queen’s features but there is a flash understanding and happiness in her eyes before walls come up.

“And what do you see?” the Queen asks.

“I’m not sure yet,” she admits and Daenerys gives her a small smile.

“What can we do to fix that?” Daenerys asks, leaning back in her seat.  

“We can play a game,” she says, knowing that no matter how good the Queen was, she wouldn’t be able to fool her.  Her words make Daenerys tense and grow serious before she shakes her head.

“I assure that there is no need to play that particular game, I can be as honest as I can without the threat of death hanging between us,” Daenerys answers.

She’s shocked at how the Queen might possibly know about her game. She must have shown her surprise on her face because the Queen smiles.

“Your brother Bran warned me you might want to play the game the Faceless Men tend to play,” Daenerys explains standing up to serve herself something to drink before walking back with two cups and offering one to her.

“I have learned many things throughout my life and one of the harshest was that trust is a difficult thing to gain and an easy thing to lose. I want you to trust me, Arya, because I love your brother and I know how much having you in his life would mean to him. I want my son to know he has a family besides his father and me.”

Daenerys sits down again, siping from the cup and her copies.  The Queen turns her head a bit, staring into the fire, deep in thought.

“Your brother would tell me about growing up here in Winterfell, having his siblings around him, a father. He would describe yourselves as being a pack and how you all would stick together. I could see how much he loved it and how much he loved you all. And although I was happy for him I also envied him,” Daenerys admits.

“Why?” she asks suspecting the reasons but needing to hear it from the woman sitting in front of her. The Queen takes a deep breath before turning to face her.

“I grew up alone, no family in the world besides an abusive brother who sold me off as a broodmare and who my first husband had to kill. My husband and first son both died as well and I resigned myself to the fact that I was going to be alone for the rest of my life. It wasn’t until I met Jon that I began to hope that maybe I could have a family. Then we married, had our little boy and suddenly I had a family again,” Daenerys confesses to her never once breaking eye contact.

“Why are you telling me this?” she has to ask, not understanding why the Queen wanted to be so honest and revealing with her. Daenerys leans across the table and surprisingly places her hand on top of hers and instead of pulling away she has the urge to hold it as well.

“Because part of me will always be that young girl who always wished to have a family. And I have a feeling that somewhere in you, you’re still that girl as well.”

She tries to deny it, she really does. But she can only remember how much she dreamed of coming back to Winterfell and being with her family. So she stays silent.

“I know it’s a lot to ask, to be able to be a part of your family, but I love your brother and I would love to one day be seen as a sister by you all,” Daenerys explains.

When Sansa had spoken about the Dragon Queen and how her coming here with Jon would break them apart, she had wanted to hate Daenerys. But this isn’t the ruthless Queen everyone had rumored and the North feared, she was just a woman like her, like Sansa, who had suffered so much in life and just wanted a family.  She could see the woman her brother had fallen in love with. The woman he had chosen as his wife, queen, and mother of his child.

“When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives,” she says standing from her seat and moving in front of Daenerys. “You may not be a wolf but you are part of the pack and if my brother chose you as his Queen so will I.”

She takes out Needle, bends the knee and lowers her head.

“I, Arya Stark, swear my sword to you and vow to protect your son as the nephew he is and you as the sister you now are,” she says and she hears Daenerys’ breath hitch and a small sob before she stands.

“Rise, Arya Stark,” Daenerys commands in a regal voice and she does. “I accept your vow but make one in return. I will protect you, your brother, your home and the rest of your family with Fire and Blood from this day on.”

She smiles and watches as the Queen smiles as well.

“I do have one request, your Grace,” she says with a slight playfulness and she sees a twinkle in Daenerys’s eyes.

“And what might that be, Lady Arya?”

“A dragon ride. Growing up I wanted to be Visenya Targaryen and to receive a ride on a dragon from her descendant…”

“Very well,” Daenerys answers with a slight laugh. “I will personally give you a ride on my dragon. I’m sure Jon wouldn’t be too offended.”

“Well, I trust the Mother of Dragons more than him to fly.”

They are both laughing when the door suddenly opens. Two men walk in, locking the door behind them.

Alarms start going off in her head and apparently, they also do in Daenerys’s for she immediately takes a step closer to the bassinet where Aemon is laying.

“I think you’re in the wrong room,” she says trying to hide her concern while moving her hand toward the dagger Bran had given her.

“No. We have the right room. But she was supposed to be in here alone with the brat,” one of the men answers the Northern accent prominent in his voice.

“Oh well, I guess we’ll have to get rid of the Dragonspawns and a wolf,” the other says, grinning maliciously.

“The North Remembers, Your Grace,” the first man says sarcastically before they each lunge at them.  

Chapter Text

She's struggling to keep up with her brother as he storms through the hallways of Winterfell to get to the Royal Chambers.

They had been in the Great Hall with all the Lords, listening to petitions, when Bran's demeanor suddenly changed to one of worry.  

“Daenerys and Aemon are being attacked…”

Fear and panic consumed her brother’s features followed pure fury as he instantly stood and left the room.

The Northerners immediately began to shout and demand answers while the Southerners began calling for heads to be taken. She hadn’t bothered to listen to them and instead followed her brother with the Hands of the King and Queen close behind.

Now as they get closer to the chambers she begins to see the bodies of Jon’s Northern Guards laying on the floor. These were men Jon had personally handpicked to accompany him to Dragonstone. They had been with him down South through whatever it was that occurred and had vowed to protect the Royal Family with their lives, against the wishes of some of their liege lords. The guard itself would alternate with the Queen’s Unsullied, Dothraki and Southern Knights on guarding. Unfortunately, they appeared to be the ones on watch today.

A babe’s cry is heard from down the hall, her brother picked up his pace.

“Thank the gods at least the prince is alive,” Lady Olenna sighs in relief.

But at what cost?

Many Northern Men lay dead and who knows what expected them inside the room.

And what her brother’s reaction might be.

Jon’s reaction to a simple insult to his wife still burned in her mind and she feared what he would do if something happened to the Dragon Queen.  Her brother had changed, he was ruthless, much less forgiving. The Queen had made him more like her and she did not like it.

She sees her brother reach the door and all the tension his body had been carrying melts away and as a giant sigh leaves his body he enters the room.

She slowly follows and she doesn’t know how to handle the sight before her. Her brother is openly weeping holding the Dragon Queen and their child in his arms.  The Queen seems to be alright except for a bandage wrapped around the arm she’s using to comfort her brother. The babe in their arms stares up at his father matching his tears.

It should be an endearing heartwarming sight except her focus is on the two bodies laying on the ground.

They were Northerners. She recognized them as two men she had accepted into the Winterfell guard just a few days ago. Two more Northerners dead because of the Dragon Queen.

“Take the bodies out to the dragons,” she hears the Queen order.

“These men are from the North, their bodies should be returned to their families,” she argues, turning to glare at the Queen.  

“They just tried to kill my wife and their Queen, they don’t deserve Northern burial honors,” Jon says standing in front of the queen and prince.

“So your Queen says Jon,” she sees the fury grow in her brother’s eyes at her emphasis on the word ‘your'.

“Your Queen, their Queen… she is the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and the North is one of those kingdoms and if you’re doubting your Queen’s word,” Jon says his voice nearly growling.

“Her word is meaningless. She's not one of us, she's a Targaryen, just like the Mad King who burned our grandfather alive and killed our uncle. And just like Rhaegar who kidnapped and raped our Aunt. The North didn’t choose her for no Northerner would ever forget those things but you did, Jon. For some reason, you forgot about all that and married her. Maybe Lord Glover was right,” she says and suddenly there’s a blade being held at her throat.

“I would take back what you just said. I won’t kill you for such insolence but I'm not sure Jon won’t,” a voice says behind her.

“Arya?”

The blade is removed from her neck and her sister moves in front of her standing between her and the royal family.

“Daenerys wasn’t lying, these men came with every intention of killing both her and our nephew. Thankfully she knows how to defend herself and was able to take out one of the assassins while I took out the other one. But these men were sent by someone and I intend to find out by who,” Arya declares looking her up and down.

“Wait, you think I sent them?”

“They were a part of the Winterfell guard and you did just showed your disdain for our Queen,” Arya points out.

“Our Queen?”

“I bent the knee to Daenerys and swore my sword to her and our nephew. My loyalty is to my family which they are a part of,” Arya explains but she shakes her head.

“What happened to staying with the pack?” she argues, hurt by her sister’s betrayal.

“I am staying with it. You’re the one who seems to forget Jon is a part of that pack. Come to think about it you’ve always forgotten he’s our brother,” Arya points out and she feels like she’s been hit in the gut.

Her sister isn’t wrong. Growing up, her mother had made it clear to her that Jon wasn’t really one of them. Only when she believed him to be the only family that she had left did she view Jon as a true brother. But Littlefinger’s warning about him being a young man and her mother’s teachings about the greediness of bastards made her doubt Jon and be wary of everything he said and did. Especially now that he arrived back at Winterfell with everything necessary to take her home and people away from her.

“My issues with Sansa and hers with me can be a discussion for another time. Right now what I need are the heads of those who tried to harm my family,” Jon growls, drawing the attention of both Stark girls back to him. “Lady Tyrell, go fetch Bran, he’ll help clear things up quickly. Ser Davos, go find Ser Jorah and Grey Worm, tell them to set up a guard in every single corner and hallway in this castle and to not let anyone leave Winterfell,” he orders and both Hands leave with a simple nod and bow.

Jon once again turns to his Queen.

“Are you sure your alright? Maybe a Maester,” he starts but the Queen cuts him off.

“I'm fine. It was a misstep on my part he got closer to Aemon than I wanted and I pushed him away. His knife barely grazed me, I should be fine,” the Queen explains as she caresses Jon’s cheek. Jon just leans into it seeming grateful for that small demonstration of affection and kisses the palm of the Queen.

Somehow during this exchange, Arya had managed to make her way over towards the Royal couple and has taken the baby from his mother.

“Come here Aemon. I have a feeling I'm going to have to save you from your parents’ display of affection more times than either of us will want,” Arya coos at the babe in her arms and that causes some laughs from the parents.

It’s the first time she actually sees the prince. She never thought to seek out the Dragon Queen or her child and their crossings were brief enough that a good look at the Prince of the Seven Kingdoms was nearly impossible. But as the babe coos in her sister’s arms, she notices something that truly hurts.

The child looks like a Stark.

He may have Valerian hair but his features and eyes are slightly softer versions of the Starks.

Her whole life she had convinced herself that it didn’t bother her that she and most of her full siblings did not look like her father.  She even teased Arya for looking different than them when they were young and was glad she took much more after the Tully’s. But now that she's proud of being a Stark and is wanting to make them independent she resents both Jon and Arya.

Jon may not be her father’s trueborn son but all the Lords, even those against him, agreed that he was the one who looked most like Ned Stark and had most of his values. And after Arya’s return, she has heard many comments of her sister being a true She-Wolf.

Soon, if the Northern Lords actually take the time to do so, they will see the North in the prince and might actually support the Targaryen Queen.

She hears the familiar sound of Bran’s wheelchair followed by the stomping of soldiers.

Bran is pushed in as Ser Jorah, the Unsullied Commander and Dothraki leader enter as well.

“Khaleesi, are you alright? The Khalakka?” Ser Jorah asks.

“We’re both fine thanks to the training you all have given me and because of Lady Arya,” the Queen answers.

“I apologize, Your Grace for not seeing the attack sooner,” Bran says with an actual sadness in his features. The Queen simple gives him a nod of understanding.

“Bran, we need to know who did this. I can’t have this happen again. I can't lose them,” Jon declares, a slight tremble in his voice in his last statement. The sadness in Bran’s features becomes more prominent.

“I know Jon,” Bran answers.

“What do we know about these men?” the Unsullied commander asks.

“They’re Northerners. Recently became part of the Winterfell guard,” she explains trying to give information to remove any suspicion from herself.

“That would explain how they got close enough to kill your guards, Your Graces,” Ser Jorah points out.

“Ser Davos please identify the men who lost their lives and please make sure the bodies are handled with the greatest respect,” the Queen orders.

“At once your Grace,” Ser Davos leaves with a few Dothraki.

“You said they recently became a part of the Winterfell guard,” Jon says, seeming to be thinking something.

“Yes,” she confirms.

“Why? When I left there was no shortage of guards. Why did you need more?” he asks again.

“Ah… um…” she doesn’t want to explain things but one glare from her brother and she knows there’s no real option. “When you arrived with the Queen some of the Northern Lords felt that my safety, as well as Arya’s and Bran’s, was at risk,” she hears some grumbles and around the room she sees everyone’s emotions rising. “Some of them offered their men for the Winterfell guard to protect the children of Ned Stark and I accepted.”

Her brother is furious as is his Queen and advisors.  She dares to look at Arya and she too has anger brewing in her eyes but keeps her face neutral. Arya slowly walks over to the Dragon Queen and hands the baby to his mother before turning and walking to stand in front of her.

“You trusted other Lords with our safety over our own brother?” Arya asks.

“I did it to keep the Northern Lords calm, they weren’t exactly happy with everything Jon did,” she tries to explain.

“You really thought Jon would hurt us,” Arya accuses.

“No, I know Jon would never…”

“But you thought Daenerys might,” Bran speaks, and everything grows silent as everyone turns to look at him. “You believed and still believe that she came to conquer the north and will try to get rid of all of us to get it, including Jon.”

“I…I don’t…”

“You do. Her son has a claim to Winterfell now and you think she’d use him to take it. In your mind, she doesn’t need us or even Jon anymore,” Bran continues to speak her fears and she fights to urge to cower and run.

“Who’s men are they?” Jon’s cold voice asks.

“Jon…”

“Just answer the question,” he orders.

“Glover, but Jon,” she tries to explain herself.

“Lady Olenna escort Lady Stark back to the hall and wait there with her,” Jon orders, not even looking at her anymore.

“Of course, my King,” Lady Olenna answers before taking her arm and guiding her out of the room.

“Jon…” she tries to speak again but the door is closed in her face and guards begin to take both her and Lady Olenna away.

She hears the older lady sigh and she looks at the Hand of the Queen.

“My dear, you let Cersei and Littlefinger get to you, you let them win,” the Lady of Highgarden says shaking her head in pity.

“I did not,” she tries defending herself.

“You did, you’re acting like them so much that you have blinded yourself to the truth and if you don’t change soon, you’ll be just as alone as they were,” Olenna says before turning completely silent and continuing their walk to the hall.

No one has left the hall and upon their entrance, everyone has begun to demand answers but neither she nor Lady Olenna answers anything as they sit in their usual seats.

She doesn’t feel like she’s wrong to have the fears she does. She tries to think about what Lady Olenna says but part of her has faith that her family, her real family will choose her over the Dragon Queen.

The doors open and everyone quiets down as the Royals enter the hall. She hears sighs of relief as the Queen and Prince are seen entering the room unharmed. Jon moves to stand in the middle of the room as the Queen goes to sit in her spot, holding both the prince and a sack, which she places at her feet. No one dares to say a word as Jon glares at all the Northern Lords.

“My wife and son were attacked in our quarters today. Inside the walls of Winterfell where they should be safe. They should be safe because they are in the walls I grew up in, where Ned Stark raised his children to be honorable, where their husband and father was named King of the North, where only loyal Lords should be,” Jon begins to speak, pure coldness in his voice. Coldness yes but fire as well. “But two assassins were sent to kill them. Two assassins that killed some of my Northern guards, guards that vowed to protect my family and came from your own houses. These assassins were killed by the Queen and Lady Arya, who was thankfully in the room with her.”

“But now my Lords I have discovered that some of you feared for the safety, not of the Queen or Prince, but that of the Starks, not from assassins but from myself and the Queen. To the point my Lords that you ‘offered’ men to join the Winterfell guard to protect the Starks.”

Grumbles are beginning to be heard throughout the room.

“The assassins were two of these men and they had orders from their liege lord to kill both the Queen and Prince.”

The shouting begins then. Both Northerners and Southerners demand to know who it was. They also begin to ask for that person’s death. She decides to look at the Queen to try to understand what their plans are. But all she sees is a small smirk as she stands, picking up the sack and walking towards Jon. The Queen holds herself high, not once grimacing from the pain that is surely coming from her arm and walks directly to Lord Glover, tossing the sack at the Lord’s feet.

“Open it,” she orders, staring directly into the eyes of the Lord of Deepwood Motte.

All eyes watch as the Lord follows orders and the blood drains from his face.

“Show them,” the Queen once again orders but the Lord shakes his head. “Your Queen commands you to take out the contents of the bag.”

But once again the Lord refuses. Jon then snatches the bag from the Lord and dumps its contents onto the Lord’s lap. She feels the bile crawl up her throat, threatening to come out as two bloody heads fall off the lap of Lord Glover and roll across the floor.

“You sent these men to kill me and my child and although my husband, your King, wanted to bring you to justice, I’m the one that was threatened and am the one who is going to sentence you. So, I Daenerys Targaryen, First of my Name, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, sentence you Lord Robett Glover to die.”

Shouts begin to erupt as a couple of the remaining Northern Guard seize Lord Glover. Even she is about to stand to argue for the Lord when she feels a hand on her shoulder pushing her back down.

“Don’t you dare say anything,” her sister’s voice growls behind her. “You are not going to undermine them again, especially not in front of others. We are a pack and we are staying together even if you don’t want to.”

She watches as the Lord of Deepwood Motte is dragged to the middle of the hall and is forced to kneel. A loud roar is heard and the building shakes as one of the Queen’s dragons lands.  The Dragon Queen stands in front of him.

“How would you like to die, my lord? By the blade or by flames?” the Queen asks. The Lord spits at the feet of the Queen but she does not react.

“Show them all that you’re just as mad as your father, burn me,” the Lord challenges and she watches as her brother moves to attack the Lord but is stopped by his wife.

“I am not my father my lord. My father was an evil man and every day of my life I’ve had to live in the shadow he cast in this world and have had to fight the consequences of his sins. If I was my father I would have your family sent for and have them watch you die before burning them as well. I would enjoy listening to your screams and would burn down your entire keep. But I won’t. I am a Targaryen and my words are Fire and Blood and with those words, I will help the North defeat the Great Others. I’m sorry that you never gave me the opportunity to show you any of that,” the Dragon Queen speaks and somehow manages to put everyone even the lord at her feet in awe.

With a simple nod, the guards escort the man out of the hall with the Queen and King following right after. The other Lords and Ladies quickly move to follow and she does as well at a much slower rate.

By the time she arrives Glover is alone on the ground kneeling and the queen’s black dragon is standing right behind her and Jon. The only thing she manages to hear one word before Lord Glover is set aflame.

“Dracarys.”

Chapter Text

The wind blows the scent of the sea through the windows of the War Room. Only the sound of waves crashing against the cliffs below fill the room as he stares out at the horizon. Rhaegal and Viserion cry out to him, begging him to go and join their mother. But he can’t. His heart demands he climb onto his dragon and fly west to the Reach but his mind knows he must stay with the armies and ships and wait for Daenerys to return.

And the wait is killing him.

Just like before, Euron Greyjoy’s fleet was awaiting them on the seas. It was dark so he understood why Yara's fleet was ambushed the first time. But the dragons gave them enough warning and they managed to destroy most of the fleet, unfortunately, Euron managed to escape.

Upon their arrival at Dorne, however, a raven sent by Bran from the Wall awaited them. It warned them about the Lannister army marching to the Reach and the betrayal of the Tarly's. Bran suggested Daenerys fly to the Reach to help the Dothraki while he would escort the Dornish back to Dragonstone.  

He argued against it, not wanting to leave her side, especially when he saw her hesitation when attacking the Greyjoy fleet, but she wouldn’t hear it. She trusted Bran and wanted to follow his suggestion. And so, with only a kiss goodbye, she flew away on Drogon.

Now he waits, brooding in the room where his namesake planned the conquest of Westeros with his wives. He wonders how many men, how many kings, stood here like him lost in his thoughts.

Did his father once stand here like him?

The bit of information that Dany told him about Rhaegar revealed that he was more like his sire than he ever imagined. Rhaegar would brood lost and sad in his thoughts for hours and although he was an amazing fighter, he hated it. He also liked to sing and give to the poor. He himself wasn’t one for singing but he could imagine himself doing so for Dany or possibly even a child if they ever have one. Overall, he discovered that his father had been a good man, he made mistakes, mistakes that caused the realm to bleed but who was he to judge? He himself had made some horrible mistakes the greatest which led him to come back in time to attempt to fix it.

The door of the chamber opens and he’s surprised to see Theon meekly walk in.

“Y…your Gr… Grace,” he stutters out with a bow. “I was wondering if I could possibly have a word with you?”

Theon. He remembers the rage he had towards this man when he saw him in his past life, how the only thing that had stopped him from killing him was the fact that he had saved Sansa from Ramsay Bolton. But now he has no anger toward him, not that Theon knows that. Theon had given his life to protect Bran in his past life and redeemed himself. But in truth he understands Theon more than anyone, what it felt like to be divided between your two families, having to choose and the consequences of those choices.

He gives the man he grew up with a small nod and Theon walks closer, stopping a short distance from him.

“Jon… Aegon…” Theon starts but seems to be unable to even look at him in the eye.

“Theon,” he says making the man look at him. “Thank you for saving Sansa, I know I owe you her safety and her life and I thank you for that.”

But the man can’t even take that small amount of gratitude.

“No… don’t thank me. I don’t deserve your thanks, I don’t deserve anything, not after what I did to Robb, what I did to Bran and Rickon,” he chokes.

“Aye, you betrayed them. But you paid for it and from what Sansa told me, your price was steep,” he says and Theon flinches. “But now you have a chance to redeem yourself. You serve a new Queen and will have an opportunity to help the North,” he sees Theon shaking his head and decides to reveal something no one other than Daenerys knows. “You’ll be able to apologize to Bran.”

Theon’s head bolts up and he can see a glimmer of hope in his eyes, but a lot of fear.

“Bran?”

“He’s alive, you’re the only one that knows this besides the Queen. He’s on his way back to Winterfell,” he explains and he sees a small smile form on Theon’s face before he shuts down again.

“Why?” Theon asks.

“Why what?”

“I was horrible to you growing up, I betrayed Robb, I took Winterfell, why are you giving me this reassurance, this hope?” the once proud Greyjoy asks.

“Because I know what it’s like having to choose between your two families,” he admits and Theon has a look of understanding.  “The Greyjoy in you told you to do something while the Stark told you to do something else.”

“I’m not a Stark,” Theon says. And he can’t help but give the man a sad smile.

“Nor am I. Yet we were both raised as Starks. Ned Stark was the Father neither of us had and he raised us as Starks. We may not carry his name but we carry his teachings, his legacy. And believe me, Theon you can be both. You can be both a Greyjoy and a Stark,” he says.

“And you’re a Stark and a Targaryen,” Theon points out.

“At least I’m trying to be,” he admits. Theon nods, not saying anything else. “I know its hard, to find that balance but it’s the only way we’re going to be happy Theon.”

“How are you handling it? Finding that balance?” Greyjoy asks.

“I know how to be a Stark, I’m still learning how to be a Targaryen and Daenerys is helping me be one,” he admits.

“I guess I have to do the same, I’ll need Yara to teach me how to be more Greyjoy,” Theon agrees. “And you and the queen?” Theon asks, surprising him. And for a second he sees a flash of that boy he grew up with who would tease him to no end.

“I guess I’m more Targaryen than I thought,” he answers with a smile, but the reminder of Daenerys causes him to go serious again.

“You’re worried about her,” Theon states, not even bothering with a question.

“I am. All it would take is a well-placed arrow or a sudden movement from Drogon and…” he shakes his head trying to get those thoughts out of his head.

“There’s a reason Yara chose her as our queen. She’s a fighter, she’s strong, I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Theon tries to reassure him, and he attempts to agree with him with a nod.

I can’t lose her again.

A roar is heard and both he and Theon quickly move towards the window and they see Drogon flying around the castle. He feels a smile form on his face as he catches sight of Dany on her dragon’s back.

“Go to her,” he hears Theon’s voice and he turns his head to look at him. Theon has a soft smile on his face and after giving him a nod, he heads out of the War Room.

“Lord Snow!” he hears a voice call out and his anger spikes. He takes a deep breath before turning to face the Lannister. “I see you’ve come out of the War Room.”

“Aye, I have. But I’m on my way out to greet the Queen,” he tries to excuse himself but the Lord Hand won’t let him.

“About that. I have been meaning to talk to you about the Queen. Would you care to step into my quarters where we could speak?” Tyrion asks, gesturing towards his opened door.

“I’m sure it can wait, Lord Tyrion. I really should go,” he tries to argue but the dwarf shakes his head.

“It's rather important. I would have spoken to you about it while she was gone but you seem to have been avoiding me,” Tyrion says and he can’t exactly deny the fact that he’s been doing exactly that. “Please and then I won’t bug you or her about this matter.”

He sighs in frustration before walking into the room.

“Please say what you want before I change my mind and leave Lord Tyrion,” he says before the small man can even finish closing the door.

“Very well then. I’m not fully convinced of your Targaryen heritage but her Grace is,” the dwarf says walking towards the wine. “But assuming you are a Targaryen, that makes you the last Targaryen male, the last one left to carry the line,” he explains pouring himself the wine and drinking it all at once.

He can’t possibly be considering…

“Her Grace is barren. A marriage between you and a Lord’s daughter would be beneficial to her cause. It would secure an ally and produce an heir,” Tyrion states as if he’s the most clever man in the world for coming up with that idea.

His blood boils.

“And what about her Grace?” he says trying to keep the fire within under control.

“Married to a Lord, one who would accept not having a child and who would give us a greater alliance,” the Lion says casually.

“No Lord Tyrion, I meant what about what the Queen wants? What about her happiness?” he practically growls out.  His tone must have surprised the Lord given the way he nearly jumps but he is quick to recover and answer.

“A Queen must do what’s best for the people, her happiness, her own wants come much after.”

“They shouldn’t have to,” the Lord looks at him as if he’s speaking in Dothraki. “She needs to be happy at the end of all this.”

“The throne will make her happy its what she’s always wanted more than anything,” Tyrion says, taking another gulp of wine.

No, it's not.

“Are you sure about that?” he needs to ask.

“Of course, I am. Just because you’ve been inseparable since your arrival, don’t presume to know her more than me, I am her Hand,” Tyrion says taking another drink.

He’s had enough. He walks out of the room, slamming the door closed with as much force as he can muster. He takes a few deep breaths, trying his best to calm down when he feels someone looking at him. He turns his head and there standing at her door is his Queen, his love.

Only a second passes before he marches to her and takes her into his arms. He feels like air finally reaches his lungs and he’s able to breathe for the first time since they separated.  His heart is pounding and he takes a quick look at her making sure she’s alright. She gives him a soft smile confirming she’s fine and before either of them can say anything, their lips find each other desperately trying to make up for their time of absence. He’s pushing her up against her door and he’s not sure which one of them actually manages to open the door before they stumble into her room. He’s also not sure which of them begins to undo the other’s clothing first but when they separate for air, a moment of clarity happens.

They’re both breathless, the laces of their clothes undone and their hair in disarray, but they can only stare into each other’s eyes.

He can see the desire in her eyes, passion, and need. But underneath it all there is some fear and before he can let this continue he needs that to go away. He lifts a hand placing it upon her cheek and she leans into his touch.

“Are you sure? Are you truly ready?” he asks, holding his own desires at bay. She kisses the palm of his hand and guides it to the laces of her dress.

“I am.”

He smiles and she does as well. Everything slows down compared with before. As he leans in to kiss her it’s no longer frenzied or desperate instead he focuses on pouring all his love every kiss he gives and accepting all the love she's sending back. Their clothes slowly fall to the ground, their haste gone and replaced with the need to commit every moment that is about to occur to memory. He picks her up carries her to her bed, gently depositing her on it before moving above her.

This is more than just need, more than just lust. This is their final step in healing, of accepting. They’re finally ready to move forward, to love each other unconditionally and without their past mistakes hovering over them constantly. They’re ready to be one again and become a true family.

“I love you,” he whispers to her, afraid that any louder and the spell may be broken.

“I love you, too,” she whispers.

Leaning in, their lips meet.

Chapter Text

She runs her fingers across his scars, taking care to not hurt him. She remembers that in their past life this had always brought him peace after their lovemaking. It would remind him that he was really alive and that she really was in his arms. She feels him drawing circles across her back and his heartbeat nearly causing her to sleep.

But something is bothering her and unless she asks about it, she won’t be able to rest.

“When I arrived you seemed quite angry,” she says softly, placing a kiss upon his chest when he tenses.

“Aye, I was,” he answers, not offering anything more.

“And what may I ask made you so angry?” she kisses him trying to coax the answer from him.

He moans, pulling her on top of him and she feels his desire building. But she stops him knowing full well his goal is to distract her.

“It's not going to work,” she says against his lips and he sighs deeply. He sits up on the bed but refuses to let her move off his lap.

“Your Hand wished to talk to me to discuss things,” he says running his hand across her bare back before resting them on her hips.

“What things?” she asks and the small smile on his face lets her know her eyebrows must have lifted.

“I love when they do that. They show what you’re feeling,” he says, using his thumb to straighten them. She takes his hand and removes it from her face, holding it in both of hers.  

“You’re trying to distract me,” she tells him and he once again sighs.

“Marriage, he wanted to talk about marriage,” he admits.

At first, she doesn’t understand why that topic would upset him so. They had mentioned their desire to marry. It should be a happy topic but the fire in his eyes said something different.

“What exactly did my Hand say?” she demands.

“He’s planning to marry me off to a lady to produce an heir and carry on the Targaryen line,” he growls, his forehead resting against her chest.

Fury.

Pure fury that brings back flashes of her past life that she quickly pushes away.  

“What?” she growls and she can hear the distant roar from Drogon. Her anger must have frightened him for it caused his anger to simmer down and concern to be etched onto his face.  

“Dany…”

“No Aegon Targaryen, you are mine. And I will burn anyone or anything that tries to take you away from me,” she vows, her blood boiling and the need to claim, to show him he belonged to her overcomes her.

The fire seemed to return in his eyes, at her possessiveness, and their lips crash against each other.

Later they once again lay in each other’s arms but as the fury has burnt out, doubt creeps into her mind.

What if Tyrion is right?

“You’re thinking too much,” his Northern gruff always becomes more evident after sex. “I didn’t do my job right if you're able to think this much.”

“What if he’s right?” she voices her fear and she feels him pull them both up to sitting positions to look into her eyes.

“He’s not. You are mine and I am yours,” he states with such certainty that her belief begins to return. But there’s still one thing that is still haunting her.

She takes his hand and places it on her abdomen. She feels tears gathering in her eyes but she refuses to let them fall. A look at him and she sees more understanding in his eyes.

“What if we can’t?” she whimpers.

“We proved the witch wrong before,” he reminds her.

“I know but what if that’s the price we have to pay for what we did… for what I did? To know I was once so close to having my deepest desire, so close to having a child of my own and not be able to have one now,” she asks, holding the tears in.

“You… we paid the ultimate price. You lost your life, we lost our daughter,” he chokes up and she can see he’s having just as hard a time as she is. “We don’t need to pay anymore. We’ve paid our dues.”

She leans into his touch, needing to hear his reassurances.

“I love you, Dany, regardless if we’re able to have children or not. And if we’re destined to be the last Targaryens then so be it,” he says and she nods in resignation, but he makes her look directly into his eyes.

“But a strong and beautiful Queen once told me she accomplished everything she had in her life because of her faith not in the gods but in herself. And just like her, I have faith in us and I believe that we will have a child.”

She smiles at him and he smiles back placing a soft kiss on her lips.

“You had a long journey and you need to rest. We’ll deal with Tyrion tomorrow,” he says.

“Tomorrow then,” she agrees, placing one more kiss on his lips before they lay down to sleep.

And as they do, they both can’t help but hope that his seed will take and that one day they may be blessed with a babe of their own.

She awakens the next morning before Aegon does and as she looks at the peacefulness on his face she can’t help but smile.

He was right. No matter what, he was hers and she was his. Children or no children, she would be happy with him at her side. But before she could, she needed to talk to her Hand. So kissing his lips she stands and asks one of her Unsullied find Tyrion and tell him to meet him in the War Room.

Missandei comes in to help her dress and gives her a knowing smile at seeing Aegon still in her bed. She's nearly done when he finally begins to stir and dismisses Missandei with a promise to tell her details later in the day before walking back to the bed and sitting next to him. When his eyes open, she watches as his first instinct is to look for her and smiles as his eyes finally meet hers. He sits up and kisses her and she can feel all the love he’s putting into it and answers him back.

“Good morning,” he mutters against her lips.

“Good morning,” she answers back and pushes against his chest as he tries to pull her back into the bed. “I have a meeting to go to.”

“Forget the meeting. Spend the day with me in our bed,” he groans and she has to laugh.

“You telling me to forget our duties?” she asks.

“Fuck duty! Fuck everyone else!” he exclaims, jokingly.

“No, no my dear nephew, I’m pretty sure you only want me to fuck you,” she whispers into his ear and a moan leaves his lips.

“Please join me back in bed,” he begs and she almost gives in at the look in his eyes but she resists.

“I have to go talk to my Hand about certain plans he’s making without informing me,” she tells him and all playfulness leaves him.

“Let me come with you,” he says but she shakes her head.

“I need to talk to him alone first if you want to join me in a few minutes it's fine but I need to start without you there ready to kill him,” she tries to lighten his mood with a small joke but she can tell its not going to work. “Aegon, please, I know you want to be there with me but this is something I need to do.”

She watches him sigh and nod, laying back into the bed.

“Fine. I’ll join you soon to break our fast,” he concedes and she leans down to kiss him one last time.

“I love you,” she sighs.

“I love you too,” he says and she stands and walks out of her room to the War Room.

She finds her Hand there but he is not alone. Standing in the War room is the Spider himself. She can’t forget their betrayal. Part of her had forgiven Tyrion because she knows she had much blame in his betrayal and that no matter what it was his family they were fighting against. But Varys she never could. The Master of Whispers had tried to put Aegon on the throne while she was still alive and that should be betrayal enough but no, the man had tried to poison her and her unborn child, using a child to do his dirty deads.

Her daughter never had a chance to live but she could not forgive the fact that her life had been in danger because of this man.

“Lord Varys, I believe I only asked for my Lord Hand to be here,” she says trying to keep her anger in check.

“You did, my Queen but Lord Tyrion believed I should be present if he’s right about the topic you wish to speak of,” Varys says in his ‘innocent’ voice.

“Did he now?” she asks trying not to convey her emotions in her voice and staring at her Hand.

“I did,” Tyrion speaks for the first time, standing from the chair he was sitting in. “If the noises I heard last night are anything to go by, I’m assuming Jon Snow did not listen to me.”

“His name is Aegon Targaryen, Lord Tyrion and if I hear you call him by his bastard name again I’ll make sure to introduce you to his direwolf,” she practically growls. She can see him swallow before taking a settling breath.

“My apologies. But yesterday I addressed an important issue with him,” her Hand says.

“Yes, he told me. And trust me, Lord Tyrion he’s just as displeased with your suggestion as I am,” she answers before he can try to use his words.

“Your Grace, he’s a danger to your reign,” Varys speaks up and her anger begins to build more again.

“He won’t move against me,” she assures them.

“We don’t know that,” Tyrion says. “I know you care for him, that he’s your family and its because he’s your family I suggested marriage to a Lady of a Noble House.”

“You’re trying to sell him off like a broodmare as my brother did me. But it’s not just him, you also want to sell me off to some Lord as well,” she says.

“We need allies. To secure Houses,” Tyrion starts before lowering his voice. “And an heir.”

“You’re trying to find someone to replace me before I even take the throne.”

“We just want to secure your legacy,” Varys argues.

“A legacy I have yet to establish. We’ll talk about succession after I win the throne,” she orders.

“But your Grace,” Tyrion tries to push again.

“Not another word about it. And if I hear you pushing the subject again…” she warns and watches as both advisors nod. There’s a knock at the door and Jon enters followed by a servant carrying their meal. “Now I have yet to break fast and I wish to do so with my nephew in private. Once we’re done we'll start planning for our battle at Kings Landing.”

“Ah, Aegon Targaryen once again planning the conquest of Westeros,” Varys says and both she and Aegon tense at his words.

They both know what game the spider is playing and what he means to do with that comment.

“I won’t be conquering anything, our Queen will be the one taking back the Iron Throne, Lord Varys and it would be best for you to remember that,” Aegon states, giving Varys a glare that would make any man cower and Varys is no exception.

“Forgive me. It would be best to leave you two alone,” Varys says with a bow before leaving the room.

Tyrion stays a bit longer, looking at them both.

“My Queen, I just beg you to keep in mind that I only have your best interests in mind,” her Hand sighs before leaving the room.

She releases the breath she had been holding in and she sees Aegon relax as well.

He flashes a smile before walking towards her and wrapping his arms around her.

“Let’s eat,” he says trying to take her towards the table.

“Wait,” she says stopping him. “Tell me my love, how many Kings  have been here in this room, sat at this table?”

“Many my love, at least five Aegons,” he answers with confidence but obviously not realizing where she’s going with this question. She stands on her toes to reach his ear.

“And how many of them do you think took their wives upon this table?” she whispers into his ear. She hears him moan and his grasp on her tightens.  “I know I'm not your wife yet, Aegon, but I would very much like to be taken upon the table our ancestors used to do what we’re about to do.”

He crashes their lips together both moaning into each other’s mouths, their food completely forgotten. She feels his hands move lower grabbing hold of her and she gives a small jump wrapping her legs around him.  He walks them towards the painted table to continue their attempts to make up time lost and possibly continue the Targaryen line.

Chapter Text

It had been a few days since her return to Dragonstone and she could say they had been the happiest days in her life, only matching those upon the ship sailing to White Harbor.

She and Aegon had decided to no longer hide their relationship, not that they had actually attempted to do so before. They would hold each other’s hands, chaste kisses were given, and they would walk next to each other as equals.

Most of her troops were ready to attack Kings Landing including the Dragons which were now used to having two riders and, in Viserion’s case, listening to mental commands. Before they can move out she’s awaiting the arrival of prisoners from her Battle of the Blackwater Rush. She hasn’t revealed the identity of these prisoners to anyone except Aegon because she knows full well it would cause chaos within her camp.

But she knows that the prisoners aren’t the ones she’s waiting for. There’s someone else she needs to be here before she moves against Kings Landing.

“What are you thinking about?” she hears him ask into her ear.

They're on Lyanna's Cliff, their daily visit, with their dragons and direwolf joining them as well. Like always she’s sitting in front of him, her back against his chest, his arms wrapped around her. And as she takes a deep breath to answer him she leans deeper into his embrace.

“I'm thinking about waiting for the prisoners, wondering if it was the right choice,” she says.

“It was but we know that’s not who you’re really waiting for,” he says before placing a kiss on the side of her head. “He'll be at your side soon.”

Jorah. Her Old Bear.

His death, in their previous life, had been the beginning of the end for her. He had died protecting her and she never recovered from that loss. It had haunted her, the guilt had eaten away at her, and his death had replayed over and over in her mind as she sat on top of Drogon hearing those bells ring. 

His loss and those that quickly followed had driven her mad.

She sighs.

“I failed him,” she whispers. “He wanted me to be the best Queen Westeros had ever seen. But instead, I became the one thing I swore never to become."

She stares out to the sea and she feels him places his head on her shoulder, doing the same.

“His death… his sacrifice was in vain. Sometimes I think it would have been better if he hadn’t come out to find me,” she admits and she hears Aegon and the Dragons growl.

“Don’t. It wasn’t in vain. Never say saving your life is or was pointless. He saved you, he saved both of you, the rest of us… we… I failed. I should have been there for you after his loss but instead, I pushed you away. He loved you and saved both you and our daughter. I loved you and killed you both. In that respect, he was a much better man than I was.”

She turns around to hold him. The guilt doesn't go away and she's starting to believe that it never will. But the guilt they both feel will keep them from making the same mistakes.

“When I came back,” he begins to say, and she pulls back to face him. “I couldn’t stand to look at Longclaw,” he admits.

“Why?” she asks. She knows how meaningful Longclaw was to him, the idea of him not wanting his sword confuses her.

“When we went up north to get the white, I tried giving it back to Ser Jorah. It was the sword of House Mormont, it was his father’s and I felt like returning it to him was the right thing to do. But he refused. He said he didn’t deserve to have it after breaking his father’s heart,” he begins explaining. “He then told me to keep it that it may serve me well… and my children after me,” he whispers the last part and she’s starting to understand why his aversion to the sword. “It may not have been with Longclaw but…” he says bowing his head in shame before taking a deep breath. “I will always be grateful to the Mormonts for everything I have, and I promise I’ll try my best to keep him at your side.”

She smiles at him and leans in to kiss him. He pulls her closer to him before flipping them over, so he is on top of her. She feels his hands wandering across her body and she tries to slip her own between them to reach his belt and trousers.

The Dragons start growling and the sound of footsteps make them break apart. She pushes against his chest making them both sit up and quickly make sure they both look presentable.

“Khaleesi,” she hears the voice of one of her Dothraki bloodriders. Aegon seems to recognize the same thing and they both quickly standing to meet with the man.

Blood of my blood. Welcome back,” she speaks to her followers.

Khalessi, we’ve brought the prisoners back. They’re in the dungeons,” he tells her.

“Did you tell Lord Tyrion?” she asks.

No. We followed your instructions just as you asked. But on the way here there was a man who claimed to have served you.”

Her breath catches as she sees her Old Bear coming up, escorted by her men. She feels herself sway a little but Aegon is immediately at her side to steady her. She can see some confusion on Jorah’s face at seeing Aegon at her side but he loyally kneels before her.

“Your Grace,” he says before standing.

“You look strong, you found a cure?” she asks trying to keep her voice from trembling. Her dear friend nods.

“I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t. I’m here to offer my service if you’ll have me,” Ser Jorah says and before she can even answer him, her body moves her forward and she wraps her arms around her.

She knows her bloodriders are present and that’s the only thing keeping her from crying.  She hears Aegon dismissing her Dothraki and they thankfully leave them.

“I missed you so much my friend,” she says in a soft voice finally letting him go but she still feels some wetness in her eyes.

“As did I my Queen,” her loyal guard answers and with a smile she turns towards Aegon who has a soft smile on his face. She tugs on Ser Jorah’s arm leading him closer towards her love.

“Ser Jorah, I’d like to introduce you to my nephew, Aegon Targaryen. Aegon, this is Ser Jorah Mormont, one of my first advisors and friends,” she introduces and Aegon steps forward extending his hand towards Jorah.

“It’s nice to meet you Ser Jorah. Dany has told me much about you,” Aegon says as Jorah hesitantly shakes his hand. “I also served with your father. He was a great man.”

She can see the confusion in Jorah’s face especially with the use of her nickname.

“I was known as Jon Snow at the time,” Aegon clarifies and some recognition hits Jorah.

“Ned Stark’s bastard,” Jorah says and she sees Aegon grimace.

“His nephew actually,” she quickly interjects, causing both men to look at her. “Ned Stark found his sister Lyanna after she gave birth to my nephew. He took Aegon in to protect him from Robert.”

“So he is the son of…”

“My brother Rhaegar. He is truly born, Ser Jorah, my brother and Lady Lyanna married,” she explains.

“Khalessi, that would mean… your claim,” she can see the concern on her bear’s reaction.

“Her claim is intact, Ser Jorah,” Aegon says causing her advisor to look at him. “I will never move against her. When we retake Kings Landing she will be Queen.”

“I know you have a lot of questions, my friend and both of us will be willing to answer them for you. However, we’re getting ready to move against Kings Landing and us grateful for your input,” she adds to Aegon’s comment.

“Of course your Grace,” he agrees.

She sees Tyrion and Varys walking towards them.

“Ah Mormont, it's good to see you again,” Tyrion announces as she takes a step back to interlock her arms with Aegon’s.  

“Its good to see you as well Lannister,” Jorah answers.

“My Queen, we got word that the prisoners you had mentioned have arrived and we came to ask what you plan to do with them,” Varys says with his irritating voice.

“We'll deal with them now. Lord Tyrion, you may want to be present for this,” she says with a smirk and in the corner of her eye, she sees Aegon wearing the same smirk.

“Why is that your Grace,” he asks.

“Because one of the prisoners is your brother.”

Chapter Text

He ordered Ravens to be sent out to let those at the Wall know to head South to Winterfell and help the final evacuations under Bran’s suggestion and guidance almost a fortnight ago.  Slowly the final refugees have begun to trickle in. They will be given a few days rest before being sent south with the rest of the nonfighting population. Those who could not make the trip would be housed in Winterfell. 

It has also been that long since Lord Glover’s execution.

It had been tense around the keep since then. The Dothraki and Unsullied were glad for what had occurred and celebrated in his and their Khaleesi’s name. The Southern Lords were proud of how their King and Queen had handled everything. The Northern Lords respected him and his wife more and if it wasn’t respect at least it was fear, enough of it that orders were finally being carried out without argument.

Right now, however, he was spending his morning in the training grounds, trying his best to give the men instructions on how to defeat the dead. Those without Valaryian steel had been given dragonglass weapons to become accustomed to them before the battle. Regular fighting techniques were being pushed aside and the men were made to fight in a much more desperate and at times dirty way. In this battle, there was no room for honor or fancy swordsmanship. It will be a free-for-all and it didn’t matter how the enemy was killed as long as it was.

He hears a giggle from up above and he glances to where Ned Stark had once stood observing his children training years ago. Instead of seeing his uncle, he sees his wife and sister laughing at their son while Bran is holding him. He smiles at the sight, knowing that this was the type of Pack unity his Uncle would have wanted. However, as his thoughts turn to the missing pack member he can’t help but sigh. He still has no idea how to deal with Sansa. She had avoided talking to him or Dany since the assassination attempt and had taken to her quarters, leaving only to join the meetings. However, even there she would say no word unless spoken directly to and she would quickly retire as soon as the meeting was adjourned. He wanted to believe that maybe she was finally coming around but the memory of her betrayal and oathbreaking kept the fact that she may very well be scheming against them at the forefront of his mind.

A horn blast announces the arrival of new refugees. He glances up and sees Dany give him a slight nod letting him know she’ll join him shortly.

He walks towards the gates to greet the new arrivals. Instead of the refugees, he expected he sees Edd and the remaining men of the Nightswatch.

He feels joy at seeing one of his closest friends from the wall and makes his way towards him, eager to greet and catch up with him. But before he can reach Edd he feels a large body tackle him and crush him in a hug.

He laughs knowing full well who is holding him.

“My little crow!” the giant redhead exclaims.

“Its good to see you too, Tormund,” he says from within his embrace.

“It's been over a year,” Tormund says letting him go. “What took you so long getting back to the North?”

“Many things my friend,” he answers, the smile not leaving his face as he walks over and embraces Edd as well. “Its good to see you, Edd.”

“Its good to see you, Jon. Where’s Sam? He sent me a raven letting me know he had arrived at Winterfell,” Edd asks and his mood drops at the mention of his former brother.

“I sent him South,” he answers, not wanting to go into more detail but one look at Edd's face and he knows he’s going to have to explain more later.

“And who is that beauty?!” he hears Tormund ask and he turns to see who has caught his attention.

He sees Dany walking towards them with Aemon in her arms. Like always he feels a smile form on his face just by looking at her. But before he can say anything a loud roar is heard as the dragons fly above Winterfell, playing amongst themselves.

He chuckles at his children’s antics but the look of awe on Edd's and Tormund’s faces make him burst out laughing.

“Are those…” Edd gapes.

“What are those beasts?” Tormund asks.

“They’re called dragons. But they’re not beasts, they’re my children, isn’t that right, my love,” she says raising her eyebrows teasingly. He looks at Edd and Tormund and their faces are priceless.

“That they are, my Queen,” he answers with a smile. “Tormund, Edd,  I’d like to introduce you to Queen Daenerys and Prince Aemon of House Targaryen, my wife, and son,” he can’t help but announce with pride.

He watches as both of his friends’ mouths drop before he walks towards Dany and wraps his arm around her and their son.

“My Queen these are Tormund Giantsbane leader of the Freefolk and Eddison Tollett Lord Commander of the Nightswatch, two of my closest friends,” he tells her knowing that she knew Tormund but never had the opportunity to meet Edd.

“It's nice to meet you. Jon has told me much about you both,” Dany says amicably and he knows she truly means it.

Both of his friends stand there their mouths agape and he laughs and is joined by his son’s smaller laughs. This seems to jar both men from their stupor.

“Your Grace,” Edd says, being the first to step closer. He takes her offered hand and places a kiss on the back of it. “Its an honor to meet you and to protect the realm for you.”

“Thank you for protecting the realm and it will be an honor to fight next to you to defend us, Lord Commander,” she answers and Tormund bursts out laughing.

“A fighter and a beauty! Don’t tell me she rides those beasts!” Tormund exclaims excitedly.

“Indeed I do ride a dragon, Tormund,” Dany answers with a prideful smirk.

This causes the Wildling to laugh and grab a hold of him.

“Who knew you and that little pecker of yours had it in you!” he yells, laughing all the while. He can't fight the slight blush that crawls into his face as those around him stare at him and Tormund. But suddenly Dany with a smile on her face steps closer and leans into the Wildling.

“I assure you Tormund Giantsbane that a Queen wouldn’t settle for a little pecker, and my husband is far the best I've ever had,” she whispers.

He turns as red as Tormund’s beard at his wife’s words and Tormund himself is speechless. Tormund quickly recovers though and laughing he lets him go and moves to grab Dany.

It’s only their quick reflexes that keep Aemon safe from Tormund’s bear hug. He quickly receives Aemon as Tormund takes Dany in his arms, his laughter resounding.

“Haha! I’m really going to like you Dragon Queen! You got yourself a fierce one Little Crow!” Tormund gushes, refusing to let Dany go.

“You have a son now. You’ve truly let go of your vows Jon,” Edd says with a smile, stepping closer to him as Tormund continues to gush on his wife. He looks down at the bundle in his arms and smiles.

“Aye. And I would let my watch end all over again to have him in my arms,” he admits, proudly smiling at his son.

Edd gives him a soft pat on the back.

“You out of all of us deserved this Jon. Because of you we might actually be able to defeat the threat beyond the wall,” the Lord Commander says but he shakes his head.  

“No, not because of me. Without her, there would have been no hope. I owe her everything, Edd,” he admits.

“You have it bad Snow,” Edd says with a laugh.

“Little Crow!” Tormund yells arm draped around Dany. “Is it true her people, the Dothraki, are like us Freefolk?”

“Yes they are Tormund,” he confirms.

“And is it true she had to eat an entire horse heart raw?!” his giant friend asks.

That memory is one he keeps fondly. He should have been disgusted by the Dothraki practice but as he watched his Queen eat that heart, not once showing any weakness, and staring straight into his eyes, his heart only felt pride.

“She did Tormund and I can tell you she held that heart down just as well as she keeps down her drinks,” he says proudly.

“Haha! You Dragon Queen are going to have to try some of our ale, not whatever these southerners have been giving you,” Tormund says but the man suddenly turns serious and puts down Dany, looking directly into her eyes. “I want my Little Crow happy, will you make him happy?”

“I swear to you Tormund Giantsbane that I will do my best to make Jon happy every day of our lives,” she vows, looking straight into the red head’s eyes. A small smile forms on the man’s face.

“That’s all I ask for, Dragon Queen,” Tormund says, finally letting Dany go.

“You all have had a long journey and we thank you for helping the refugees get to Winterfell. There are beds for you to rest and a small feast will be had to welcome the Freefolk and Nightswatch,” Dany announces regally. “When you all have rested we will have a council meeting to inform you of our plans to fight against the dead.”

“Thank you, your Grace,” Edd says with a small bow.

Dany calls over one of their Unsullied and orders them to take their guest to where they are to rest. But before they leave Edd stops and looks at him.

“I think we need to talk about Sam,” the Commander says.

“Aye, we do. But later.”

With a nod, Edd follows the Freefolk and Unsullied. He catches sight of Arya and Bran coming towards him.

“I’m glad to see you now know you still have friends Jon,” Bran says with a smile.

“I’m glad as well,” he answers.

“Well we’re here for our nephew,” Arya says with a smirk.

“What?” he asks confused, looking to Dany for some explanation but she also has a smirk.

“We are here to take our nephew off your hands. You need to go with your wife,” Arya begins to explain walking towards him and reaching into his arms to take Aemon, “and have a nice dragon flight. Maybe later either of you can give me one.”

He looks at Dany again and he sees a fire in her eyes.

Oh.

He understands then and he controls his urge to drag his wife to their dragons. He turns to his siblings and they both have looks of understanding.

“We’ll keep this little dragon safe, Jon,” Bran assures him.

“Now go ride your dragons, brother,” Arya says with a giggle.

He would try to wipe that smirk off her face but his need is getting the better of him. Dany walks towards Arya, kissing their son goodbye and he quickly follows. They interlock their arms and make their way to the clearing that the dragons have claimed as their own.

They don’t even need to speak, both of them knowing where they need to go. With only their memories the dragons carry them to the Waterfalls, the last place of happiness they had known in their past life. And there he is once again able to show his love how much he truly loves her.

Chapter Text

He loves seeing her on their ancestral throne, where Aegon the Conqueror and all the other Princes of Dragonstone once were. She exudes power just by sitting on that dragonglass throne and he’s once again reminded why he had fallen for her as soon as he beheld her during their first lives.

He’s standing to her left, the place traditionally reserved for the consort. But he and Dany had decided that tradition was something that at times needed to be broken. When they begin their rule, they are going to be equals, partners that together would make the decisions for the realm, and even before they conquered she wanted it to be known who he truly was and where he stood in their reign.

Tyrion stands a few steps below them, seeming very nervous at not knowing what his queen had in store for his brother.

Part of him understood the man. Family is a hard thing to fight against, it had taken losing the love of his life through betrayal to realize that. But even so, he now knew his family just as well as Tyrion knew his and knew not to trust them or protect them any longer. His loyalty was to his Queen and so too must Tyrion’s.

He hears the doors of the room open and watches as Dotharki drag the prisoners to the steps of the throne.

“You stand in the presense of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen,” Missandei begins to list of all of her titles and he can’t help but feel even prouder as he hears all her accomplishments again. The three men down on their knees attempt to keep a brave face on, but the youngest man is doing a horrible job at it.

That must be Dickon Tarly.

Dany had told him after her return that she had burned Randyll Tarly at Highgarden. That Olenna had demanded the punishment for Oathbreakers and Traitors, which the man had become by joining the Lannisters. Even so, Dany had offered the man a chance to join the Nightswatch but he refused. She did the same as in their previous life by burning the man but refused Dickon’s pleas to join his father and instead took the new Lord of Horn Hill as her prisoner.

But his love’s attention is not on the young man or the sellsword that was also captured but on the Golden Lion that had let the destruction of the Targaryen family occur.

He remembers the first time he met Jaime Lannister at Winterfell, how much he hated the man without honor, the infamous Kingslayer that stabbed his King in the back. But he himself was no better, in fact, he was worse. In his past life, he had become something worse than the man before them, he had killed his Queen, had become and Oathbreaker, Queenslayer, Kinslayer, and Childslayer all in one deceitful move of using Dany’s love for him to get close enough to kill her.

If there was one person he could most relate to it was Jaime Lannister.

“I’m sure you all are aware why you are here,” he hears Dany asks, bringing him out of his thoughts and back to the present.

“Well, I’m here because these Lannisters have yet to pay me what I’m owed,” the sellsword answers.

“And what is it that you are owed?” Dany asks.

“A castle your Grace. Ser Bronn once saved me and I promised him a castle,” Tyrion explains and both he and Dany stare at him in disbelief.

“And what castle do you propose to give this sellsword, Lord Tyrion? Does he even have the capacity to be a Lord of a Keep and take care of the people?” he asks before Dany has an opportunity to do so.

“I…I hadn’t really thought of the people,” Tyrion admits realizing his mistake.

“Of course you didn’t. Recently your concern for the people has been limited only to things that will spare your sister,” Dany points out, glaring at her hand.

“If I may,” the one-handed Lannister interrupts, drawing the attention back on himself. “We all know why we’re here. You defeated us at the Battle of Blackwater Rush, we’re your prisoners and you’ll probably use me as a ransom against my sister, this isn’t the first time I’m captured.”

“Aye, your first was against my brother, and look what happened to him after you were released,” he points out drawing the attention of the Lannister back on him.

“And what exactly is the Bastard of Winterfell doing here with the Dragon Queen? Last I had heard you were sworn into the Nights Watch, you being here would make you an Oathbreaker,”  Jaime retorts.

He feels Dany tense up at that title and he doesn’t hesitate to place his hand upon her shoulder to calm her. She glances back at him asking for his permission to reveal the truth. He feels his heart clench knowing that even now she is giving him control of who knows his identity and it reminds him that not even his own family gave him that courtesy. With a nod he agrees.

She speaks in Valaryian and orders her Unsullied to remove both the sellsword and Lord Tarly from the hall, leaving them alone with the Kingslayer.

“Before you, Jaime Lannister, are the two remaining members of the family you betrayed when you stabbed my father through the back,” his Queen responds in a cold voice that brings chills down his spine. “You betrayed your King, my father, by stabbing him in the back and you betrayed my nephew’s father by letting Lannister men butcher his children and their mother.”

He watches as Ser Jaime slowly begins to piece things together.

“Rhaegar…The rest of my brothers…”     

“Left behind at the Tower of Joy to protect Rhaegar’s wife Lyanna and his child, my nephew,” Dany answers, moving her hand to hold his upon her shoulder.

“Ned Stark…”

“Took me in as his bastard to protect me from your sister’s husband, who would have killed me without a second thought,” he answers.

There’s a silence in the room, no one daring to say anything.

“It all makes sense… the rest of the kings guard Ned Stark returning with a babe. . . You’re the son of Rhaegar Targaryen, the male heir…” Jaime says voicing his realization.

“If these past few years have taught us anything is that the rightful heir title does not mean who was sired by the former king , wouldn’t you say , Ser Jaime? “ he’s quick to interrupt. “Just because I was sired by Rhaegar doesn’t mean I’m the right ruler much less because I’m a man .”

“So you won’t stake your claim? You’d give it to the Dragon Queen? “ The former Kingsguard asks in disbelief.

“He won’t be giving me anything. For the first time in history, the Seven Kingdoms will be ruled equally by a King and a Queen,” Dany answers. “But that is not something that needs to be discussed at the moment. The Kingdoms will learn of this soon enough. Right now, however, we need to decide what to do with all of you.”

“Your Grace, I’m sure my sister would negotiate terms of surrender for my brother’s life,” Tyrion speaks, stepping forward to defend his brother.

“I think we all know there’s no negotiating with your sister, nothing will make her give up that throne, isn’t that right Ser Jaime?” Dany asks and Tyrion looks to his brother desperately wanting him to disagree with the Queen.

“You’re right,” Jaime sighs. “After Tommen… there is no reasoning with her.”

“Any mother, no matter who she may be, would lose their mind at the loss of a child,” Dany answers and he hears a slight catch in her voice.

He squeezes her hand in support knowing she has been through this before, first with Rheago and then with both Viserion and Rheagal, and lastly with Lyanna. He hates himself for not being with her, for not giving her the support she needed after those losses in their past lives. Even now in this life, part of him can’t get past the grief of losing his daughter.

Maybe we’re more like Jaime and Cersei than we realized.

“But she wasn’t the only one who lost children, was she Ser Jaime, so did you,” Dany points out and he watches Jaime grow defensive.

“I’m sure you should be the last person to be judging…” the man starts.

“I’m not. Who we fall in love with is out of our control. I… we understand better than anyone that neither blood nor duty can stop you from loving someone,” his Queen answers.

“I guess were a bit alike your Grace,” Jaime says.

“I’m afraid that’s where our similarities end,” she takes a deep breath before continuing, “You killed my father,”Jaime seems ready to argue but Dany raises a hand to stop him. “ I know he was an evil man and what he intended to do, you did what you thought was necessary to save the people of Kings Landing and in a way I commend you for that. “

He looks at the stunned faces of both Lannister brothers. Dany’s words regarding her father, his grandfather, are what they both truly feel and Jaime’s actions are beyond well understood by them both.

“However although your actions were justified and are understood both by myself and my nephew it cannot be ignored that you did break your oath to my family, to Rhaegar, to Elia, too little Aegon and Rhaenys.“

He can see guilt fill the man’s features and his head drop in shame.

“There’s someone else I failed to protect, your Grace,” the man pauses to take a deep breath. “Your Lady Mother. I was never allowed to help her, to protect her from your father and that is guilt I carry with me to this day.”

Dany tenses at the mention of her mother. He recalls people saying the Queen had been a sweet and caring person. In the few times Dany mentioned her, she revealed that Rhaella suffered the same horrors both she and Sansa at the hands of her husband.

“Unfortunately we women tend to not to be worthy of protection from, even from our husbands,” Dany answers her voice catching. “But my nephew and I want to stop that. We want to change the world and no longer allow the injustices that afflict those with no power to exist. And part of that is giving people second chances.”

The confusion of the two Lannisters grows.

“You were not the only Kingsguard to betray the Targaryen family. Ser Barristan Selmy did as well,” she reveals. “And just as I allowed him the opportunity to redeem himself, I will do the same to you.”

“What are you saying?” Jaime asks.

“We won’t take your life, nor will we ask you to betray your sister for we know what that kind of betrayal can do to a person,” he speaks showing the united front that he and Dany are planning to have.

“Instead we will have a mission for you. Something that needs to be done in order to prove to us and to the realm that you are a changed man, Ser Jaime,” his Queen continues.

“And what is this mission?” Jaime asks.

“There’s a threat beyond the wall,” Dany reveals for the first time, even to her advisors. “One that unless it is seen, won’t be believed. We need you to recover some proof for us, an example of this threat to show the Lords and Ladies of the realm. In return you will be pardoned from your crimes and you will be able to lead the Lannister army and keep your unborn child.”

He looks around the room and sees the surprise and shock in everyone’s features but none more so than the Master of Whispers and Jaime Lannister.

“How…how do you know?” Jaime asks.

“I have my ways,” Dany says, not giving away how exactly they know, “Your sister can’t be spared, as you’ve said before she is beyond negotiation. However, both my nephew and I believe that a child is innocent of their parent's sins. So we will let her live until she delivers her child and then you will have an opportunity to actually raise a child of yours.”  

“Do you agree to our terms Ser Jaime?” he asks staring at the man.

He watches as many emotions pass through the knight’s face. He sees fear, anger, happiness and finally resignation and resolve. And at that moment both he and Dany know what the man’s answer is going to be.

“I accept. However until my child is safe I will not bend the knee,” Jaime answers and both he and Dany nod in agreement.

“Very well Ser Jaime. You will set sail on the morrow and the sellsword that you keep as company will join you,” Dany announces.

“When you get to Eastwatch you will hand a scroll to one o the Nightswatch and they along with the Wildlings will provide you with what I’ve ordered them to give you,” he adds.

“Now you will be given an opportunity to rest and eat. Tommorrow Lord Tyrion will send you off. Hopefully the next time we meet Jaime Lannister, you will have proven yourself and redeemed your honor,” Dany says and with a simple nod the Unsullied step forward to take Jaime back to his cell to rest for the rest of the day.

Once the man is gone, Tyrion and Varys both step forward.

“Your Grace, I had not heard anything regarding Cersei’s pregnancy. How did you come to this information?” Varys asks.

“That is for me to know, Lord Varys. But if you continue to fail at hearing these most obvious songs, I will no longer have a need for you, do you understand?” Dany responds with anger.

“Yes your Grace,” Varys says with a bow.

“Why had neither of you mentioned this threat beyond the wall? Or consulted with me about what you planned to offer to my brother?” Tyrion asks.

“Because Lord Tyrion, we’ve come to realize that no matter how loyal a person may be, when it comes to family, loyalties begin to become difficult to decide,” he answers, looking directly at the Lannister.

“You think I would betray you for my sister?” Tyrion asks in disbelief.

“I wish I didn’t,” Dany admits. “When I named you my Hand, I believed in you, I truly did and even now I desperately want to do so. But as Aegon’s said, family is hard to turn you back on. Because of that, I won’t have you choose.”

“What do you mean?” Tyrion asks, attempting to hide the hurt her doubt gives him.

“I won’t make you choose between me and your family nor will I make you make decisions that go against them,” Dany stands and walks to stand in front of Tyrion. “I know how much you hate war, how much you hate the fighting,” she says in a much softer voice, her hand upon Tyrion’s shoulder, “and if there was a way to avoid it I would. But for the next upcoming years, war is going to be something we will encounter.”

“So what would you have me do?” Tyrion asks.

“I need you to use that mind of yours to figure out how you will rule Casterly Rock as my Warden of the West,” she says and the Lord’s eyes widen, threatening to fall out of his head.

“You… you would let me keep Casterly Rock?”

“Yes. I would also expect you to help your brother raise your niece or nephew once the babe is born and if you like they would be legitimized and named your successor, as long as the father bends the knee,” she explains, turning back to the queen persona she has learned to wear well.

“So you will be looking for a new Hand then?” Tyrion asks fingering the pin on his chest.

“Not yet. We still have to see if your brother keeps his word. Maybe once we have Kings Landing, but for now you will continue to be my Hand and a close advisor,” she says.

Tyrion kneels and bows his head.

“Thank you, your Grace,” he says.

“Now I need to be left alone with my nephew,” she declares and all her advisors leave the room, as do the guards.

Since they entered the throne room, she turns to look at him for the first time, and he simply opens his arms for her to find the comfort she needs at the moment.

“Did I do the right thing? Offering them that?” she asks against his chest.

“You know I hate Tyrion but you were right, he made mistakes and only betrayed you at the end, by offering him this, your stopping that from ever happening,” he reminds her.

“And Jaime? That was your idea,” she points out and he takes a deep breath.

“Aye. I hate the fact that I understand that man so much. That he and I become the same person,” he says into her hair, placing a kiss on top of her head.

“But you aren’t, not this time,” she vows.

He hopes that she’s right and hopes that they made the correct decisions.

Chapter Text

She feels like its happening again. They’re making their final preparations for the attack on Kings Landing, with the armies already sent out to take their places and Varys has begun to make the same moves he did in their previous lives. She’s on edge, worried that she may be paranoid, but she knows she can’t take the risk, especially if her suspicions are correct and her life isn’t the only one at risk again.

She feels Aegon’s arm wrapped around her, his hand unconsciously resting on her abdomen, and she can’t help but smile.

A soft knock on her door, makes her sit up covering both herself and Aegon, knowing how much he hates others seeing his scars.

Missandei walks in a soft smile on her face at seeing her in such state of undress. Her faithful friend walks in and hands her a robe so she may cover herself before standing and walking away to not wake Aegon.

“I'm assuming you had a good night, your Grace,” Missandei says with a smirk.

“I did, my friend. I'm really happy,” She admits.

“And I'm happy for you.  After everything you both been through, you deserve to be happy,” Missandei says.

“You deserve happiness as well. You and Greyworm, after all this. You two deserve to be together away from all this,” she says.

“But my Queen,” Missandei tries to argue and she’s quick to grab her advisor’s hand.

“No my friend. Once these two wars are done you and Greyworm along with the Unsullied and Dothraki are free to do as you wish, be it here in Westeros or Essos. I will not hold you all back in this life nor will I let you all have the same fate as in my last,” she vows, squeezing her friend’s hand.

“And if Greyworm and I choose to stay with you?” Missandei asks and she smiles brightly.

“Then I will gladly have you at my side,” she responds and embraces her closest friend.

“If we’re right about the possible little dragon, you might need my help more than ever, my Queen,” Missandei whispers and she can’t help but laugh, letting go of her friend.

She’s had the same symptoms she had on her way to Winterfell and during her time there but she’s afraid to get it confirmed by the Dothraki midwives. She hasn’t told Aegon either, not wanting to get his hopes up.

“Gods I hope we are,” she answers.

“Are you going to tell his Grace?” Missandei asks.

“Today. I'll call one of the Dothraki midwives once he awakens,” she confirms and another soft knock is heard on the door. Missandei goes to see who it is and upon viewing, she closes the door and turns to look at her.

“The little girl is waiting to bring your meals in your Grace,” she says in a grave tone, knowing what her suspicions are.

She sighs walking back to the bed to awake Aegon.  

“My love, it’s time to break our fast,” she practically coos as she softly shakes him. She lovingly watches as he stirs slower than usual. He claims it’s due to his time living as a bastard and on the Wall that he tends to wake early and at first call. It’s only when they tire themselves the night before that he takes a bit longer to awaken.

His grey eyes open to meet hers and the smile she loves forms on his lips.

“I love you,” he says.

“I love you too,” she answers back as has become their custom.

He admitted one night that he regretted not saying the words enough in their past life and waiting until she was gone to tell her. So now the first thing and the last thing they say to each other each day is “I love you".

A throat clears reminding them that they are not alone and of the seriousness, they are facing. Aegon sits up and looks at one of their closest advisors.

“She is still waiting, your Graces,” Missandei reminds them and all playfulness and sweetness leaves her nephew’s face.

She had voiced his fears to Aegon, knowing that there needed to be communication between them. He had been angry and wanted to act immediately but she refused. Instead, neither of them had eaten any of the food being brought by the little girl and waited for the best time to make their move.

He quickly reaches for his clothing, putting on the minimum clothing to look decent before giving a small nod to Missandei to let the little girl in.  

Just like the past few days, the girl is extremely nervous, not greeting them as she used to or even dares to look at them. She simply takes the tray and places it on the table. The little girl bows turning to leave.

“Wait,” Aegon orders stopping the girl. “Would you be willing to eat with us?”

The little girl tenses, shaking her head in negation.

“N…no, your Graces, I wouldn’t dare,” she tries excusing.

“We insist. You’ve been serving us since our arrival, we wish to get to know you better,” Aegon says in a sweet voice.

She can see the hatred in his eyes, not at the girl but at the man who dares to use her to do his dirty work.

The little girl looks down at her feet and tears fall down her cheeks.

“I'm sorry,” she sobs. “My parents are sick and I was promised money to get them help.”

Aegon’s anger seems to only grow as does hers at the near confirmation of their suspicions. But she tries her best to keep it away from her voice.

“Who promised you, my sweet girl. We promise not to hurt you or your family if you tell us,” she vows in a soft motherly voice.

“Lord Varys,” she says and Aegon immediately rises. He storms to the door and orders their Unsullied to seize Varys. Thankfully the dragons had understood their orders to kill any ravens sent out from the island. She in turns steps towards the girl and hugs her, trying to show her that no ill will was being held against her.

“It's alright. We’ll send a Maester to your parents. But we need to know what exactly Lord Varys asked you to do,” she coos at the girl who manages to calm down enough to look at her and speak.  

“It's only in his food, my Queen,” she says gesturing towards Aegon, surprising them all. “Lord Varys thought the King of the North had too much influence on you. That you no longer listened to counsel.”

Some relief hits her, knowing that the possible life inside of her was not in danger the same way her daughter had been in their previous life. But rage consumes her as she processes the fact that the man she loves was the target fo the Spider’s murderous schemes.

“Forget the trial,” she growls. “He needs to be taken to the beach now.”

“Your Grace, we must continue with the plan,” Missandei reminds her. “Your allies need to know you have reasons to do this.”

She tries taking deep breaths but it doesn’t seem to be working. Her vision begins to dim and she finds herself back in her previous life.

She sees the food uneaten on her table, she hears Drogon’s cries of sorrow at the loss of his brother and her dearest friend. Above all she feels the hollowness inside, the lack of will, the overwhelming isolation that overtook her those final days. Her hand moves to the bump she remembers concealing from her time at Winterfell to her final moment in Kings Landing. But even that could not bring her back from the darkness that consumed her.

“I have no love here,” she mutters staring out into the sea, running the names of every single person she lost on her futile quest for the Iron Throne.

She hears voices calling out but she can’t find the will to care, that is until she feels someone grabbing hold of her shoulders and shaking her slightly. She sees him standing in front of her seeming to be saying something but she can’t hear him.

“I have no love here, Jon Snow,” she says in a monotone voice that even she has a hard time believing is her own.

His face drops but she still can’t hear what he’s saying and her vision begins to darken even more until she loses consciousness.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been out and she fears to open her eyes, not knowing if she would still find herself trapped in her mind, trapped in the past. She feels very familiar lips, placing soft kisses to the back of her hand and she knows that she will be alright.

“Aegon,” she breathes out, before slowly opening her eyes. Everything is blurry at first, as she tries to get her barrings, but she finds him nevertheless, faithfully sitting at her bedside.

She recognizes the look of relief on his face as he stands to lean over and place a kiss against her forehead.

“Thank the gods,” he sighs against her skin before pulling back to look into her eyes. “I lost you there for a while,” he tells her, fear lacing his voice.

She knows what he’s referring to.

One of the side effects of their return is that at times they would have flashes of their past lives and would relieve moments. Usually they were successful at drawing each other out of those memories, however this time he obviously had not been able.

“How long?” she asks.

“Enough.”

Enough to scare him.

“Varys?”

“Still in chains in the dungeon. I wanted to execute him myself, but I can’t take that from you. So I told everyone I was going to wait for you to wake,” he explains.

She nods in understanding and lays back down as he sits back in his seat.

“Missandei insisted on calling one of the Dothraki women,” he says piquing her interest, “She wouldn’t tell me why but to tell you once you woke that she confirmed it.”

Her eyesight once again becomes blurred but this time from tears of joy.  His look of concern makes her laugh as she pulls him in for a kiss. But she can’t stop the tears as she lets him go to caress his cheek.

“Dany?”

She can’t even say it. Instead, she takes his hand and leads it down to where she now knows their child is growing. It takes him a moment, but once he seems to understand, the look of pure joy and love is one she will never forget and will cherish her entire life.

“Dany…” his voice trembles as his eyes fill with tears.

“My love,” she speaks, her voice catching slightly, “you’re going to be a father.”

He sobs as he gathers her into his arms and she joins him with her own cries of joy.

They never got this moment in their previous life. Even though she had been happy when she discovered she was with child and eager to reveal their miracle to Jon, that happiness abandoned her with all her losses and the separation she and Jon had. Now however they were free to celebrate. They were together, they loved each other, and they had both yearned above all else to have the opportunity to have a child again.

“I love you. I love you so much Dany,” he mutters against her shoulder before he pulls away and crawls down to face her abdomen.

He places his hand, in the most gentle movement she has ever seen from him, right where their child is growing. He places a soft kiss and keeps his head there.

“Hello my little dragon," he speaks softly. “I’m your Papa.”

She tries to fight the tears so that her sight won’t be blurred and to commit this moment to memory.

“I… I never expected to be someone’s Papa. I didn’t want another child to suffer the same way I did,” he admits, “But you won’t. You won’t because you’ll have a Mama and Papa who will love you more than anything in the world.  Who will give you the best life we can possibly give,” he places a kiss on her belly. “When I met your Mama, I wanted nothing more than to have a babe with her,” he takes a deep breath. “I failed your sister, my little dragon, but I promise not to fail you,” his voice trembling with emotion. “I love you.”

She cries then as Aegon crawls back up to hold her, to hold them as he refuses to move his hand from her abdomen. All she is capable of doing is placing her hand above his own and they go through all their emotions together.

A knock breaks their peace and Missandei once again enters their quarters.

“I’m assuming congratulations are in order?” her advisor asks with a knowing smile.

“Thank you Missandei,” Aegon answers, refusing to move or let her go.

“You are welcome, your Grace. I’m glad to see you both so joyful,” her friend says but her face turns serious. “Our allies are awaiting the trial and Lord Tyrion is getting demanding as to why Varys was arrested in the first place.”

She sighs, hating the fact that their moment of happiness has come to an end because of her treacherous Master of Whispers. However, what surprises her is that the anger that filled her before is not there and she is unable to conjure it. Instead, she is just filled with determination to get rid of the threat to her family and finally move on with her plans for Kings Landing. She has something more to fight for and she will do everything she can to protect it.

“Very well. Tell Lord Tyrion that he will know at the same time as everyone else,” she orders and with a bow, Missandei leaves them.

It takes them a moment more to release each other, but even then Aegon seems to not want to be more than a few steps away from her. Before they leave the room he wraps his arms around her again.

“I have no idea how I’m going to be able to let you go tomorrow,” he says.

“You’ll have to. Now more than ever we need to defeat Cersei, defeat the rest of our enemies and unite the Seven Kingdoms,” she says against his chest.

“I know. But risking you, risking our babe…” he lets out a breath. “I’m not sure how I’m going to do it.”

“Drogon will take care of us, I won’t risk him. Not after…”

“Him?” Aegon asks with a giddy smile on his face.

“I'm not sure yet. I dreamt of a boy a few days ago when my suspicions started,” she admits.

“Did you know with Lya?” he asks sadness ringing his voice.

“I did,” she confirms and he holds her a bit tighter.

“I'll never be able to tell you sorry enough,” he mutters. “This should be our second celebration.”

“Yes, but we need to move on. Not forget, but move forward. She'll be our first in our hearts but this little one is part of our second chance. And I promise you, I'll do everything to avoid losing him,” she vows and he pulls back to kiss her.

“I love you,” he says.

“I love you, too,” she says back.

She takes his arm and they walk together to the throne room, discussing how everything was going to be handled. Once there he leads her to the thone and lets her sit before taking his place right beside her.  She gives a small nod and Varys is brought before her and the rest of their advisors.

“Lord Varys, when I admitted you into my council I told you something, a warning. If you thought I was failing you would tell me to my face, not go behind my back and what was it I told you I would do?” she demands him to answer.

“You would burn me with your dragons, your Grace,” the Spider admits, with no remorse.

“And yet here we are,” she pauses, giving herself time to breathe. “Letters sent to the rest of the kingdoms revealing my nephew’s identity and blaming me for his murder which you attempted to commit with poison. If that’s not going behind my back I'm not sure what is.”

The room turns even more silent at the revelation. She can’t risk taking her eyes off Varys but if the slight gasps and the sounds of weapons slightly being drawn are anything to go by, her allies and soldiers are of the same mind as her.

“I only did what needed to be done,” he justifies. “You were no longer listening to counsel and have let your emotions get the best of you.”

“I listened to counsel, my lord. I listened to Aegon, my allies and my generals. The only counsel I no longer followed was yours. As for emotions, I'm a Targaryen,  we’ve always been lead by emotions both through our downfalls and glories. If anything Aegon and I balance each other with no need of a Master of Whispers to temper or control us,” she answers. “And that’s what all this comes down to. Monarch after monarch you have manipulated your way to power and when you finally get two people who do not fall into your webs you try to kill one and remove the other.”

She hears a roar outside as Drogon flies close by the throne room, threatening to land on top and make his way inside.

“But, as much as I would like to burn you for your treason, it was not my life you threatened but that of your future king and my future husband,” she says for the first time. “And so he will be the one to pass your sentence and deal with your punishment.”

She stands from the throne, taking a step aside and allows Aegon to take a seat on the throne of their ancestors for the first time. She takes him in, sitting there exhuming power while wearing their family’s colors, and for the first time she truly sees a Targaryen king.

“Lord Varys,” Aegon speaks in his commanding Northern voice. “You tried to have me killed and tried to turn the Seven Kingdoms against our Queen before she can even take the Throne. In any light you put your actions, you have committed treason and in every corner of this land that is punished by death.”

He pauses for a second and she takes a quick look around the room seeing how everyone is in awe of the power Aegon is projecting at the moment.

“In the North, the man who passes the sentence swings the sword. So I Aegon Targaryen Sixth of my name sentence you to die. As a small mercy, I'll allow you to choose either Northern justice or Fire and Blood,” he growls the end.

“It would be quite poetic if had the same fate Ned Stark had after he failed to save the realm,” Varys answers with a smirk, trying to get a rise out of Aegon.  But Aegon stands and walks down the steps to stand in front of the traitor.

“My Uncle died because of his honor. He was too naive to play the game and he listened to people like you and Baelish. In another life, I may have fallen in your webs just as he did, but not this time Lord Varys,” he answers coldly and she catches sight of Ghost coming from the shadows and silently walking behind the eunuch. “Any last words?”

“I’m glad the line ends with you,” he says and a cold smile forms on Aegon’s face. He extends his hand towards her and she walks down towards him to take his hand. The next words are whispered in the eunuch’s ear so quietly that even she struggles to hear it.

“That’s where you’re wrong. My child now grows in my Queen’s womb and he will be only the beginning of the return of our house.”

Before Varys can react, Ghost grabs hold of his neck and rips out the man’s throat, killing him in a painful and gruesome manner. No one dares to say a word as the direwolf finishes his task or even when said wolf drags the body out to where his dragon brothers await.  

And with the body gone, they both turn, arms entwined and leave.

Chapter Text

The sun is their ally.

They’re using the same technique Aegon the Conqueror once used and that Dany had replicated in their past lives.

Things are going to be different this time.

He takes deep breaths as they prepare their dive. He glances to his left and sees her on Drogon, holding on tightly to his back. She looks like a true Targaryen Queen, Visenya come again. She’s nervous, he is too.  She looks his direction and he sees her nerves but she then places a hand on her abdomen and mouths “I promise".

All he can do is nod and mouth back “l love you".

One final deep breath and he gives Rhaegal the order.

“Now,” he says and the swift dragon begins their dive.

His breath leaves him as the air passes around and his heart starts beating faster as the walls of Kings Landing become larger. He sees the Scorpions on the walls, less than there were last time and much bulkier.

They had less time to prepare.

“Dracarys!” he yells to Rhaegal and with a loud roar, the dragon releases his flames upon the walls of the capital.

The rage he feels upon seeing the weapons that killed his son in his past life and the memory of what the conquest of this city had done flows through him and goes through the dragon as nothing but ashes remain. The gates are his other target as he burns them down and their forces begin to pour into the city.  He lands upon the walls as the people are evacuated and the bells start to ring.  

Things are going better.

Rhaegal roars suddenly and his head bursts in pain as he hears a sudden scream coming from his dragon.

Mother!

He turns his head towards the sea, desperate to find Daenerys, to see why Rhaegal had cried out. The remaining ships of Euron Greyjoy are gone, burning in the middle of the harbor. Drogon is nowhere to be seen. An all-encompassing shadow lets him know where the biggest dragon is and soon he lands next to them. He quickly glances to Drogon’s back to see where his beloved was.

She’s grasping her head with one hand, trying to drown out the sound of the bells, but seems to be holding her bad memories at bay. What worries him, however, is the arrow lodged in her shoulder.

“Dany!” he yells in concern.

“The Keep!” she yells back, concern in her features and he doesn’t understand why she’s so desperate about the Keep. He’s about to ask when he hears the first explosion. He looks towards the Keep and sees green flames followed by the screams of the people. A second explosion soon follows and he finally understands what is happening.

Wildfire.

The thing his grandfather, the Mad Targaryen King, had used to burn people alive, what he had planned to set off when the Lannisters were about to storm the capital. It was now being used by the Mad Lannister Queen against the Targaryen forces and innocents of the city.  

“We have to help!” Daenerys yells at him.

“You’re hurt!” he yells back.

“Doesn’t matter!” another explosion is heard and she grimaces in pain. “We need to get as many as we can out!”

“You’ll be in danger! We have no idea how much Wildfire Cersei has throughout the city! It’ll burn us alive!”

“Fire can’t hurt me! I can get close enough and get people onto the dragons or at least guide them out!” she yells.

“I can let you do that!”

“It's our duty, Aegon! I can’t fail this city, not again!”

He wants to argue against her, convince her that she needs to get help and treatment for her injury, that her life and that of their child was more important than any in the city. But he can’t. He can’t because he knows she’s right. And just as he makes up his mind the third of the dragons lands next to Drogon.

“Protect your mother!” he yells at both dragons and he feels the agreement in their light connection before Drogon flies off towards the explosions, followed by Viserion.

He prays to the Old Gods and to the New, to the Lord of Light and any other diety out there to make sure Dany stayed safe and came back to him. He feels Rhaegal’s desperation to join his brothers but they can’t. He’s become more tolerant of the heat since accepting his Targaryen heritage but it still harmed him.

Instead, he directed Rhaegal towards the troops and began to order them out of the city along with anyone else he could find. To make things easier for evacuation he began to burn the walls down to give people more routes of escape. He tries to ignore the sound of explosions and focuses his efforts on the people he sees are not able to move on their own.

He lands on one of the surviving walls watching as their final forces begin to leave the city. Greyworm stands below with some of the Unsullied to protect him as he dismounts Rhaegal. He sends his dragon away to help his mother and brothers where he can no longer do so. He along with their forces watch as Daenerys flies people, especially children out of the city, on top of all three dragons. He worries as he sees the blood from her wound has not completely ceased, but can’t make himself stop her. Instead, he busies himself helping the people dismount the riderless dragons.

He had just watched her fly towards the Red Keep and was helping Rhaegal with the people on his back when suddenly the largest explosion by far is heard and he turns his head to see everything around the Red Keep on fire and the loud cries of both Drogon and Viserion. He sees Viserion take off from within the inferno, attempting to shake off the unnatural flames but he doesn’t see Drogon take off, he just hears his roars.

No…

Before he can panic he sees Drogon emerge from the flames and make his way towards them. As the dragon lands, he lets out a roar of concern and he rushes towards the largest of their sons. He sees the green flames still on the dragon and he understands now what they are.

They’re bodies. Bodies of those Dany had been helping when the explosion went off.

He tries not to think about it as he climbs onto Drogon to get to Dany. Her clothes are gone and she seems to be barely holding on to the dragon.  

“A…Aegon?” she coughs out.

“Shh,” he quickly says.

“The people,” she says.

“We evacuated as much as we could. But you need to get seen by a maester,” he argues, carefully gathering her in his arms and climbing off of Drogon.

“The children,” she mutters.

“No. You tried, love. It wasn’t your fault,” he tries to assure her as another explosion is heard.  

“Cersei, we can’t let her get away,” she grimaces as they land.

“You’re more important,” he argues.

“No. We need to end this. As long as she’s free, we can never be safe we’ll never…” she passes out and he remembers the wound on her shoulder.

“Ser Jorah!” he yells and thankfully the older man is close by and walks towards them. The man thankfully grabs a cloak to cover the queen.

“Take her to a maester or a healer. I need to go look for Cersei,” he gently hands Dany over to her loyal guard but stops the man before he can go. “I’m entrusting you with what I love most in this world Ser Jorah, please protect them and if I don’t make it back, make sure they are safe and get on that throne.”

“I swear I will, your Grace,” the loyal knight says understanding what the “them" meant.

He places a final kiss on Dany’s forehead, gently caressing her abdomen before Jorah turns and walks away with his world.

He quickly calls Rhaegal and climbs onto his dragon. Rhaegal flies as close as he can to the inferno, trying to see any sign of life. He sees a group of people leaving the Keep and he sees some golden hair in the middle of the group. He lands Rhaegal in front of the group and comes face to face with Cersei Lannister and her Queen’s Guard.

“Ah, the Bastard of Winterfell,” the woman says. “I can see the dragonwhore has let you mount one of her dragons.”

He ignores her trying to keep in mind the deal they had with Jaime Lannister and instead focuses on the men surrounding her.

“I’m going to give you all a chance to leave. The Queen and I will release you of your vows and you may return to your homes. Cersei Lannister has caused enough bloodshed today.”

“You must be as much a fool as your father to believe my men would betray me,” the Mad Queen answers.

“I'm no fool Cersei. I just know that if your men do not put down their weapons and leave, they will all die today,” he answers confidently.

“You’re much too confident in your skills bastard, but who am I to stop your quest for death,” Cersei says and the members of her guard unsheathed their swords.

He takes a deep breath and takes out Longclaw ready to end this war once and for all.

 

 

She wakes up on a cot in an unknown tent. Flashes of what happened coming to her and she tries to sit up but two hands push her back down.

“Slow down Khalessi,” the voice says and she immediately recognizes the voice of her Old Bear.

“Ser Jorah? What… Where?” she asks.

“You’re behind our lines. You lost blood and inhaled a lot of smoke, it caused you to lose consciousness,” he explains to her and she moves her hand to touch where the arrow had lodged itself in her. Her hand then rushes to land over her abdomen, terrified to ask.

“The Khalakka is safe, Khaleesi,” Jorah answers and she blushes at the fact that her secret was now known by her longest companion.

“Ser Jorah…” she tries to explain, to give some comfort to her friend who she knows loves her and is hurt by her relationships to others.

 “I'm happy for you. Although I’ve always wished you might return my affection, I’m glad to see you truly happy and loved by someone.  And I know how much you’ve wished for this since Rhaego and I'm glad he was able to give you it,” he says with a small smile.

She releases a few sobs and hugs her oldest advisor, remembering how much she needed him the last time she invaded Kings Landing.  She knows he’s the only one in this world to understand what a living child means to her besides Aegon.

Aegon…

“Where’s Aegon?” she asks in desperation as she let’s go of her bear.

“He went after Cersei. He asked me to take care of you two, especially if he didn’t return,”  he answers and her head begins to spin again.

If he doesn’t come back….

If he doesn’t…

Jorah must have seen her sway for he pushes her back down into the cot.

“He’s a great swordsman and he has a dragon Khaleesi, he should be fine,” he tries to reassure her.

But Aegon won’t use Rhaegal.

“I… I can’t lose him. I can't lose him Ser Jorah,” she pleads, breathing becoming difficult.

“You need to calm down Khalessi,” he tries to calm her but it isn’t working. Fire begins to burn through her. Fire to protect the man she loves, to protect her family, to protect her kingdom.

Thankfully she was in Dothraki clothing and she pushes herself up off the cot and stands up. She sways slightly but her bear is there to steady her. He knows her too well to stop her from doing what she’s planning and he follows her as she exits the tent.

Drogon lands in the closest clearing and without hesitation, she climbs onto his back. She sees her men standing below her waiting for orders.

“Make sure the entire city is evacuated and the people who have been hurt are attended to. Ser Jorah, Greyworm, meet me at the Red Keep, no matter what happens there will be a prisoner to take,” she orders and takes off.

 

 

It should be harder to take down men of the Queen's guard but for one reason or another, he easily defeats them all.

Well not all.

One of the largest men he’s ever seen has yet to leave Cersei’s side and as he kills the last of the men he expects him to move. But he doesn’t.

“Well, it seems your skills weren’t exaggerated, bastard. But it won’t matter, Ser Gregor has never lost a fight and I'm sure this won't be an exception,” Cersei says and her last guard begins to unsheathe his sword.

Ser Gregor… that name stirs something in him.

He hears a raven cawing and he catches sight of it standing on a ruin. Suddenly flashes begin to run through his mind.

A babe’s head, his brother, being crushed against a wall as his cries fill the room until they are silenced. His sister, being stabbed repeatedly until she no longer resembles a human, her calls for their father echoing in his ears. Their mother, being forced to watch their deaths as she’s defiled and finally killed.

He’s suddenly in the throne room and sees a young Robert Baratheon being presented the bodies of his family. Instead of being horrified by the sight he laughs, pleased with what was done.

The scene changes much less clear than the last. He sees Dany, laying in a pool of blood, their babe being snatched from her arms and watches as the same monster murders their child before doing the same to Dany. He hears Cersei’s laughter and he returns to the present.

Fire burns through him as he remembers who this man, this monster is. And he knows that if he wants to avoid what he last saw he must kill this thing and avenge his siblings.

“You’re Gregor Clegane,” he growls, his body trembling with pure fury.

“Ah so you’ve heard of him, even up in the dreary North,” Cersei says mockingly.

“Aye,” he takes his fighting stance. “He’s the one who butchered my siblings and presented their bodies to your pig of a husband. And instead of taking his head, the Usurper laughed as their blood-soaked the steps of the throne room.”

Confusion laces the lioness’s features and his anger only grows.

“I’m not a bastard, I’m Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of my Name, son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. Your family has done nothing but kill and destroy mine and today your reign will end,” he announces before beginning to attack.

The monster is stronger than he thought, easily countering all his attacks. He tries his best moves on him but it doesn’t seem to be enough. He begins to tire, his fury being the only thing keeping him going. Finally, he sees an opening and he thrusts Longclaw into the monster.

He sighs in relief and a smile starts to form on his face but it seemed to be all in vain for the next moment Clegane simply removes his blade and tosses it aside as if he had done nothing. The Mountain then moves to swing his sword down and he dives out of the way. He manages to get Longclaw and once again stabs him but nothing seems to slow him down.

He gets hit by one of the Mountain’s punches and his sword grazes his side. He can feel blood seeping out of his wound but he won’t give in, he can’t. He swings his sword and cuts clean through Clegane’s leg, knocking him to the ground. He then stands and removes the monster’s sword arm in one swing and continues with the rest of his limbs.

His anger returns as he sees the man who killed his siblings turn into nothing more than a lump. He hears a roar behind him and a shadow covers them all. He doesn’t move as Drogon lands next to them and he only feels relief as he sees his love stand beside him. He can actually see the fear in Cersei’s eyes as she takes in the fact that she has lost.

But his focus returns to the lump.

“Gregor Clegane,” he starts and he feels Dany tense next to him, probably knowing who this man was and what he did. “You killed my siblings, their mother, and countless others during your life. And now with your Queen’s reign at an end we King Aegon and Queen Daenerys sentence you to die for the crimes committed against our family with Fire and Blood,” he growls and he feels Rhaegal land next to Drogon and Viserion flying above them.

He hears the Unsullied arrive and take Cersei into custody, moving her away from the dragons. He reaches for Dany’s hand and together they take their revenge and their throne.

“Dracarys.”

Chapter Text

She’s not sure what she’s supposed to feel.

She is once again standing before the Iron Throne, the thing she worked hard for not just in this life but her last one as well. The thing so many people had died for and that she herself had killed so many for.  

She should be happy. In her past life, she couldn’t think of a happier moment than when she finally stood in front of it, finally obtaining her life’s goal. She should be just as happy or even more. Aegon was at her side this time, she had a child growing inside of her again.

But she felt nothing.

She was beginning to worry that maybe she was just as mad as she had been in her last life.  But all she can think about are those green flames that killed so many and all those injured.

She touches the Throne and hears footsteps behind her. For a moment she panics as the edges of her vision darken but the footsteps are smaller, familiar but not those that had killed her before.

“You've finally done it,” Tyrion’s voice says behind her.

She takes deep breaths returning herself to the present before turning around to face her former Hand.

“You’ve finally obtained what you’ve most wanted in your life,” he says and she can’t help but give the man a sad smile.

“Not yet,” she answers.

“No well there’s still the coronation and the swearing of loyalties, but you have the Iron Throne,” he points out.

“At what cost?” she asks, still thinking of the lives lost.

“We knew lives might be lost. Unfortunately my sister…” Tyrion’s voice catches and she knows he’s just as upset about the lives lost and his sister’s involvement just made it worse for him.

“Because of your sister’s last act of cruelty the city is in ruins, thousands have been left without homes, without livelihoods. There are so many people dead or injured,” she shakes her head.

“Including Aegon,” Tyrion points out and she nods. He’s being attended to, she knows that. But just remembering the simple wound that had ended the life of Drogo, puts her on edge. “He will be fine.”

“I can’t do this without him,” she sighs.

“You once thought you could. That you did not need a king at your side,”  the Lannister says.

“I did,” she agrees. “But that was when I thought I was the last Targaryen. I thought I needed to carry this burden alone. But with him I don’t have to, there’s someone here to help me with the heavy burden our ancestors destined us to carry,” she explains.

“You told me that once you had the Iron Throne we would talk about this and even though I'm no longer your Hand, I still need to bring this up,” Tyrion starts and she sighs, knowing where this was going.  “I know you love him and it’s become clear to me that he loves you too. But love… it’s a dangerous thing, especially if that love can’t…”  

“Produce an heir?” she finishes.

“I know it’s a touchy subject, for both of you. But if you two wish for your accomplishments and legacy to continue you’ll have to resort to other means. A lady of the North perhaps, to try to make them happy,” he tries to explain.

She debates with herself whether or not to reveal her truth but knows that both she and Aegon need to agree when and if to tell Tyrion the truth.

“From the North? Their king is going to be the King of the Seven Kingdoms, what more would they want?” she asks, playing Tyrion’s game.

“Well, more Northern blood on the Throne. Preferably from one of the strongest houses. Manderly, Karstarks, maybe even the Starks themselves,” the man practically whispers the last part and she takes many settling breaths.

“You want Aegon to have our heir with Sansa Stark?” she asks unable to hide her disbelief.

“Well, that is certainly an option but not one I was thinking exactly. Maybe naming a child she has as your heir. It would still be family,” he says.

“So after we’re gone a Stark, not a Targaryen will be on the throne?”

“If you’re not willing to let Aegon sleep with anyone else then yes. If you want Targaryen blood you have to make him be with another woman, preferably one that will bring you both a more political advantage,” he argues.

“That won’t be necessary Lord Tyrion,” Aegon announces coming into the room.

“You should be resting,” she frets, walking towards him and giving him a once over.

“As should you,” he reminds her, placing his hand on her abdomen, where their child grows. Without thinking she lays her own hand above his. Her attention is completely on him that she almost misses the sudden intake of breath from Tyrion. Both she and Aegon look at him and part of her enjoys the shock on his face.

“You’re pregnant,” he gasps and neither she nor Aegon can hide the small smile that forms on their faces.

“I am Lord Tyrion and we would like the knowledge of that information to be kept secret for the time being,” she confirms.

“O…of course. I won’t say a word. I’m sorry for my earlier comments, had I known I would have never…” Tyrion tries to apologize but she holds up her hand to stop him.

“No need to apologize. However I would like to have a moment alone with Aegon,” she tells him.

“Yes your Grace,” Tyrion turns around but stops before he leaves. “I’m very happy for you Daenerys, for both of you.”

They’re finally left alone. She refuses to let go of him and she especially refuses to turn around to face the Iron Throne again. He holds her and she feels his body shudder as he buries his face in her hair. She can practically smell the ashes and smoke of her destruction. She also feels a slight pulse below her breast right where Jon had stabbed her.

“I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry,” he sobs and she feels his tears upon her head.

They’re both struggling here, more than ever. But she knows that his guilt is much greater and harder to get over than hers.

“No, no more, my love. You are no longer that man. Jon Snow killed me that day, you’re not him,” she tries to reassure him.

“How do you do that?” he asks. “How can you actually accept that when I can’t? Sometimes I feel like I’m Jon Snow the Northern fool who killed his queen and his child after listening to everyone else instead of himself.”

She pulls back to stare into his eyes, filled with tears, pain, and regret. She loves this man more than she ever loved Jon Snow. This man is her King, the father of her child, a Targaryen and she needed him to accept that.

“But you aren’t you’ve accepted who you are, who you're meant to be. Yes, part of you will be Jon Snow, the bastard son of Ned Stark and I loved that man. I loved him and he betrayed me,” his face falls and he attempts to look away but she refuses to let him. “But I love Aegon more. I love you more than I did in my last life and I know you will never betray me the same way. I know you can’t. Tell me am I the Mad Queen I turned into?”

“You were never mad. You were hurt, grieving, and alone. We forced you there, life forced you there,” Aegon tries to excuse.

“No. If you’re going to carry your guilt let me carry mine as well. What we both need to understand is that we’re not those two people. We’re different, we’re trying to be better,” she says.

“Aye, you’re right,” he agrees, at least for now. They both turn to face the Throne and stare at it in silence. “You never had a chance to sit on it.”

“No I didn’t and truthfully I don’t want to now,” she admits.

“What?!” he asks surprised.

“I don’t want it, that’s what you constantly said before right?” she asks teasingly and he gives her a sad smile. “It’s the very embodiment of the wheel I set out to break. Yes, our ancestors did many great things while sitting upon that throne but we’re different. We’re ruling as equals,” she explains. “And unless you plan to have me sitting on your lap, all day long we need two thrones.”

Aegon actually laughs something that seems to brighten the entire room.

“I wouldn’t actually mind,” he teases.

“You say that now but I’m going to be getting bigger soon,” she reminds him and his face brightens even more at the reminder of their child.

“Aye and I’ll love you even more,” he says caressing her abdomen and before leaning in to whisper into her year. “It's also another Targaryen legacy that I could have you on.”

She feels chills at the thought and flashes of their times on Dragonstone be it the Painted Table or the throne come to her mind and make her blush. He caresses her cheek gently seeming to be in thought.

“What is it?” she asks.

“I know you say you don’t, but this is only right.”

He takes her hand and guides her towards the throne. She tries to hold back the emotion but silent tears fall as she takes a seat on the Iron Throne. She feels fulfilled, she finally did it. She still wants this thing destroyed but she needed to do this at least once and thankfully Aegon knew that.  He kneels in front of her, placing a kiss on the hand he refused to let go of.

“You are my Queen. I failed you before but this time no matter what I will be at your side, from this day till the end of my days,” he starts. “On Dragonstone I told you I wanted to wait to hear your answer, that I wanted to wait for the right time. And I can’t think of a better one than this,” he clears his throat, never once breaking eye contact with her. “Dany, my Queen, my love, will you marry, me?”

She cries, she can’t help it. She’s sobbing with all the emotions coursing through her body. She’s afraid that he might think she’s upset but he just kneels there patiently with a smile on his face.

“Yes,” she answers through her tears and he leans forward to kiss her, erasing the memory of the last time he did in this room. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Chapter Text

“I know you’re having an affair!”

As she looks up from the report she is reading she realizes that those are the last words she ever expected someone to say to her. She had been called a foreign whore, dragon spawn, and many other horrible names. But something about being called an adulteress by Sansa Stark sets her off.

“Excuse me?!” she questions, glaring at the eldest Stark.

“Don’t try to deny it!” Sansa answers back.

She tries taking a settling breath and looks to both of her Hands who look just as shocked by this accusation as she is.

“Lady Olenna please, make sure to send a reply to Kings Landing with how to settle this dispute. Also, send a raven to the Reach to ship more supplies up North and to the refugee camps we have set up in the South,” she orders.

“Of course, your Grace,” Lady Olenna agrees, standing with a slight bow before turning to leave the room. But first, the Lady of the Reach stops before Sansa. “You have entered the Dragon’s den girl, and you have made the mistake of waking the dragon.”

The Queen of Thorns leaves the room then leaving only Ser Davos and Sansa in the room with her.

“Ser Davos, please go find my husband and inform him of what is going on. We’ve been postponing this confrontation long enough,” she tells her husband’s closest advisor.

“Are you sure Your Grace?” he asks, sincerely concerned for them.

“I am.”

“Very well then. I’ll go find the King. Hopefully, I can get him to be calm before he enters,” the older man looks both at her and at Sansa. “but by the looks of things this ain’t going to be calm.”

He stands as well, bowing and leaving her alone with Sansa Stark.

“Now Lady Stark, I recommend you sit down and explain yourself before my husband arrives or before I take your head for blasphemy,” she practically growls at the Stark.

“It's not blasphemy if it’s TRUE. If there’s one thing I’ve learned is to have ears where my enemies lay,” Sansa says.

“And why exactly am I your enemy? I ended the reign of the woman who did the most harm to the Starks. I made your brother King of the Seven Kingdoms and I'm now going to help save the North and the realm by fighting the army of the dead,” she reminds the woman before standing to show she won’t be intimidated.

“You’re not one of us and that makes you my enemy,” Sansa answers with a sneer.

“What do you want Sansa? All this is obviously an attempt to get something and we’ve all been dancing around it,” she sighs in frustration.

“Northern Independence,” Sansa says without hesitation.

“That’s not possible,” she answers knowing that it wouldn’t be enough to stop the redhead before her.

“Its what the North deserves,” Sansa argues.

“I know how much the North has suffered, as have the other kingdoms to different extents. However, the last thing the North deserves is for its people to starve during winter just because of your desires to become queen,” she tries to make the Lady understand but she refuses.

“It's not just what I desire, its what is due,” Sansa argues.

“You’re a smart woman Sansa, you’ve been handling Winterfell for over a year. You know very well the number of shortages there are. All Seven Kingdoms depend on each other to survive. None of them have the resources to sustain themselves, none. That’s why they all need to stay together in order to survive and prosper,” she tries to explain.

“I will do anything I have to to get the North its independence,” Sansa threatens.

“And because of that, you make up the idea that I am being unfaithful to your brother?”

“I'm not making it up. I heard you,” Sansa practically yells.

“And what exactly did you hear? I have not said nor done anything to make anyone believe that I have been unfaithful to my husband,” she growls, her anger growing.

“I heard you, moaning another man’s name,” she sneers.

Ah… so that’s where she got the idea.

Aegon hated when she moaned his bastard name. She had tried to convince him that it was necessary to keep up the charade but he refused to listen. It did not help that he had tried his hardest to make her scream as loud as possible to “make up for lost time" from both this life and the last.

“Did you now? And how did you ever hear me when we have both gone out of our way to avoid each other?” she asks.

“I was looking for my brother and went to your quarters. You were loud like a common whore,” Sansa says.

“Hold your tongue, Sansa.  You insult me one more time and I won’t care that you are my husband’s sister,” she warns, beginning to lose her patience.

“I'm only stating the facts. That’s what everyone knows you as and that doesn’t go away just because you’ve managed to deceive my brother,” Sansa says.

“I did no such thing. Whether you want to believe it or not I love your brother, I did not deceive him in any way. And have you ever once stopped to consider why I’m considered a whore?” she walks around the desk to stand right in front of the redhead.

“Of course not. No one ever does, but let me tell you why,” she stares directly into her eyes, never once showing weakness. “They believe me a whore because my first husband bought me from my brother, a man who was supposed to protect me and spent his nights raping me until I learned how to pleasure him. They call me a whore because I had to marry a man I hated in order to free a city and the slaves that lived there. They call me a whore because I refused to act like a common woman and instead decided to reclaim what was stolen from my family and fight against the injustices of the world. That’s why they call me that, no other reason why.”

She can see that there’s a moment that Sansa shows a bit of emotion, of understanding. She knows that they both have been victims of men and knows that given the chance they could both talk about their experiences and move forward from them. But just as that moment appears, it quickly leaves, and the walls and coldness once again return in Sansa’s eyes.

“I don’t believe you. I still think you’ve betrayed my brother and are using him. For power, for pleasure, who knows?  Maybe the baby is just another tool you used to trap him and you’re using him to give your bastard a father,” the redhead says.

She sees red. She may be a queen, a dragon rider and many other titles but above them all, she’s a mother. And the woman before her had just insulted her child. Her hand shakes in fury and rises ready to attack the woman before her but a voice stops her cold.

“What did you call my son?” both she and Sansa look towards the door and see Aegon standing at the doorway with both Ser Davos and Arya standing behind him. And she truly means Aegon for fury, rivaling her own, fills his eyes, showing the true dragon that he is.

“Jon…” Sansa starts.

“What. Did. You. Call. Him,” he asks again, walking into the room, glaring

“I didn’t mean… Jon, I didn’t,” the oldest Stark tries to speak.

“Didn’t mean what? To call him a bastard? To hurl the same insult your mother did to me throughout my life? The same one you once called me as well? You meant it then as much as you meant it now,” he growls, standing right in front of Sansa, glaring at her.

Ser Davos has thankfully closed the door, making sure others won’t be privy of this argument. Arya stands behind Aegon showing her unwavering support and even she holds anger at hearing the word bastard directed towards her nephew.

But the walls that had held back all the resentment and bitterness of his false status as a bastard have collapsed in Aegon. And Sansa has truly woken the dragon.

“I need you to get one thing straight Sansa. My son is a trueborn. His mother and I married. The blood of noble houses, blood of kings, the blood of the First Men and Old Valyria run through his veins. He is not sinful, wanton, or whatever you and your mother believed me to be! He is my son, your prince, and he will never know what it feels like to be treated as a bastard!” he rages.

“He might not even be yours!” Sansa yells. “She’s sleeping with someone else, under the roof of our home. Who’s to say she didn’t do that in Dragonstone or Kings Landing? He would be the very embodiment of sin!”

She can’t hold it in at this point. She lifts her hand and strikes Sansa Stark, hearing some gasps from who she assumes is Ser Davos and Arya Stark. The eldest Stark seems too in shock to respond at first but after a moment raises her hand to return her strike, but her husband’s hand stops her.

“You strike your Queen and you will be sentenced to death for treason,” Aegon warns, shoving his sister’s hand down.

“Your Graces maybe we should all take a moment to calm down. To explain things that need to be clarified,” Ser Davos steps up, attempting to calm them all down.

She takes deep breaths, relaxing before turning to face her husband. She sees that he’s still trying to control his dragon blood and decides to help him. She places a hand on his arm, trying to settle him, and just with a simple glance into her eyes and he seems to relax completely. She gives him a slight tug and they both proceed to sit in their chairs. He still glares at Sansa and she can’t help but do so as well, but Ser Davos words keep her at bay.

“Ser Davos is right,” she says between clenched teeth. “There are things that need to be explained and misunderstandings that need to be clarified.”

“You were moaning the name Aegon, what is there to clarify?” Sansa demands.

“I would expect my wife to moan out my name while in the throes of passion, Sansa,” Aegon is quick to answer.

She watches as confusion covers the faces of the two Starks and as Ser Davos takes an exasperated sigh. She knows he would have preferred Aegon to give this information in a more sensitive way but at this point, there was no way for her husband to calmly explain this.

“What?” Arya is the one to ask first.

“My name, my real name, is Aegon Targaryen. My parents were Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, Ned Stark claimed me as his bastard to keep his word to my mother and to keep Robert Baratheon from killing me,” Aegon explains.

Shock forms on both Stark sisters as they attempt to process Aegon’s words.

“That… that would mean,” Sansa starts. “You and her… the throne…”

“The throne belongs to us both,” he quickly clarifies to get rid of any ideas Sansa may be forming.  “In the south, I am known as Aegon and Dany and I rule on equal thrones, with equal power. The Iron Throne as you knew it no longer exists.”

“You stole his birthright! You stole the North from him!” Sansa exclaims, glaring at her.

“She did no such thing!” Aegon yells back and begins arguing with Sansa.

However, her focus is on Arya who appears to be having her world crumbling around her. She stands up ignoring the yelling and walks in front of the young Stark. She uses her hand to lift the youngest girl face and he can see the vulnerable girl that desperately needed her family.

“He’s still your brother, Arya,” she says softly to the young girl. Her words are enough to stop the others from arguing. “No matter who sired him or what name he now goes by he is your brother and the little boy you’ve fallen in love with is your nephew. Your brother is both a Stark and a Targaryen and I will never take that away from him nor will I take him away from you.”

This seems to be exactly what Arya needed to hear for the next moment the young Stark has her arms wrapped around her in an embrace. The young assassin takes a moment to collect herself before stepping away and giving her a reassuring nod to show her continued support.

“We’ve done enough arguing,” she says, turning to look at her husband and Sansa. “You either understand what we have told you or you don’t. But it won’t change things or make them go the way you want, Sansa. Whatever you decide to do with the information you now have is up to you. You decide whether to stand with your family or go against it.”

The red-headed Stark glares at her before swiftly leaving the room with a slam of the door.

She lets out a deep sigh, knowing that they will soon need to confront the Northern Lords and the consequences that will come with this. She turns to look at Aegon and sees him hugging Arya tightly and having a private conversation with her. To give them some privacy she turns and walks towards her Hand.

“Well that could have gone better,” Ser Davos says, and she can’t help but smile at his attempt at humor.

“I think we all knew this was coming eventually,” she tells her Hand.

“Aye, it was. But it would have taken longer if you two could keep it down,” Davos points out with a smirk.

“True. But neither of us have truly found the need to do that yet,” she points out.

“Nor will you, I imagine,” her Hand says, and she must fight the blush that rises, confirming what he’s saying. “You two are unbelievable,” he says with a shake of his head. “I have to go talk to Lady Olenna, let her know what happened and get ideas on how to best handle this situation,” he gives a slight bow, turning to leave. But as he’s leaving the room, she hears him say under his breath “if they keep this up we’ll have more Targaryens crying about.”

She smiles at the idea, knowing that she really does want more children, as many as she and Aegon can have.

“What are you two going to do?” she hears Arya ask, bringing her attention back to Aegon and her.

“We prepare for whatever Sansa decides to do. We address it and return our attention to the war against the dead,” she answers sincerely.

“Do you really believe the Northern Lords will let this go?” Arya asks.

“No, we don’t but at this point, it doesn’t matter. If the Night King wins, we’ll all be dead and it won’t matter who my parents were or what blood rules the Seven Kingdoms,” Aegon answers. “Besides Dany and I have learned that we can’t make everyone happy, no matter how much we try. If they want to survive, they accept and move on, that’s the only option,” he tells her.

“And Sansa?”

Darkness once again falls on Aegon’s features.

“It’s up to her. If she moves against us or tries to harm my family in any way, I won’t hesitate to impose justice. However, if she chooses to be part of the family then I will welcome her just like you and Bran,” Aegon explains.

And although she’s angry at the woman she hopes for the Stark’s sakes that Sansa does come around. For she knows, better than anyone, how horrible it is to be alone in this world.

“Arya, would you mind giving your brother and me a few minutes alone?” she asks.

The She-Wolf answers with a simple nod, giving them both a hug before exiting the room. For just a moment both she and Aegon just stare at each other. Both of them feeling a weight, lifting off their shoulders, but another, heavier one taking its place.

“I’m sorry, this is all my fault,” he starts, and she quickly moves to his side and wraps her arms around him.

“Don’t apologize. We both knew it was going to happen eventually,” she tries to comfort him.

“Maybe Davos is right. If I hadn’t asked you to…” she’s quick to pull away and stare directly at him.

“I did that willingly. It was hard enough for you to hear everyone else call you ‘Jon’ and for me to call you that in front of others. The least you deserved was being called by your true name while we were making love,” she raises her hand and caresses his face gently.

“Whatever happens we’re together,” he says with a smile.

“Together,” she agrees.

“What did Davos mutter on his way out that made you smile, the way you did?”

“Our Hand made the point that if we keep this up, we may have many more, little crying dragons,” she says, and he beams with joy at the idea.

“Aye, once we win this war, I’d love nothing more.”

“How many?” she asks out of curiosity.

“Well…” he leans down to kiss her, “I think…” he kisses her again, “we can have…” he starts kissing down her neck, “at least…” another kiss, “one for…” he begins kissing back up, “every kingdom.”

She needs to pull away for a moment to try to see if he’s truly being serious.

“One for every kingdom?” she questions.

“At least,” he answers with a smirk. “We could try to match King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne, although they did start sooner than we did.”

“You are mad, my love,” she says with laughter.

“Aye, maybe I am. But I think this is a good type of madness,” he answers with a smile.

“It definitely is,” she agrees.

“So, what if we,” his hands begin to roam her body as he resumes his kisses, “forget for a while what just happened,” he kisses a very sensitive spot, “and continue practicing?”

All she can do is moan in agreement before he lifts her up to take her to their bed where they can continue practicing for the next little dragon.

Chapter Text

“You wished to see me, Your Grace?”

Nearly two moons have passed since they conquered Kings Landing. The city was still recovering, people had episodes, the burn victims still suffered, and countless people were still homeless. Those who were willing were transported to Dragonstone where they received temporary homes or they were sent to the Reach or Dorne. Those that weren’t were housed in buildings that managed to be saved. He and Dany would go to the homes, making sure the people weren’t missing the necessities, giving them food to eat, wine and clean water to drink along with blankets and clothing that the Dothraki had made for them. Dany loved spending the most time in the orphanages and the children loved seeing her.

And as they walk through the city and the people surround them, he finally understands the love she once spoke about in their other lives.

The people of Kings Landing love her. The people’s days seemed to brighten whenever she would walk among them or visit the sick. They would cheer, some would try to give her gifts, others would grovel at her feet. But everyone they encountered thanked them for freeing them from Cersei. They would call her their Queen and him their King.

And all that before they had even been crowned.

The Southern Lords have all made their way to watch their coronation and swear their fealty. Above all, however, they’ve come to witness the marriage of the last two Targaryens.

“I did Ser Davos, come in and have a seat,” he says and his closest advisor sits in front of him. “I'm getting married today Ser Davos,” he says not even trying to hide the joy these words bring to him.

“Aye, you are, lad. Took you two lifetimes but you’re finally doing the right thing,” the old man answers with a fatherly smile.

“I finally am,” he responds with a smile. “But I also get crowned tomorrow before all the Lords of the Southern Kingdoms.”

“You’re going to be King of them all,”  Davos adds.

“And a King,” he starts standing up and walking towards the Onion Knight. “Needs a Hand.”

He takes out a small golden badge and presents it to his friend.

“Your Grace…” the man is speechless.

“I Aegon Targaryen would like to name you Ser Davos Seaworth, Hand of the King and Queen,” he proclaims and the Onion Knight stands before kneeling before him, his eyes swimming with tears.

“I… I would be honored your Grace,” Davos answers his voice trembling slightly.

He pins the pin on the man’s clothes and with a slight hand movement orders him to stand. He can’t help himself and hugs his advisor.

“You’ve been like a father to me Davos and I will always be grateful for everything,” he says to the man before letting him go.

“After I lost my sons, you’ve been like another one of my boys. And I promise to serve you and the Queen the best I can.  But I warn you that I don’t know anything about the High Lords,” Davos says and he can’t help but smile at his advisor’s honesty.  

“No need to worry about that Ser Davos. My Queen and I have decided to do things differently. There will be two Hands. You will be our Hand because you know the people, the common folk and you will be bestowed the title of Mouth of the People along with your title of Hand,” he explains.

“And may I ask who the other Hand will be?”

“Lady Olenna Tyrell. She will represent the Lords and Ladies, the Highborn. She’s a smart woman who knows the Game well and has given the Queen priceless advice. The Queen should be presenting her with her pin as we speak,” he tells him.

“You two are truly making things different. There’s not one person in Flea Bottom that is not singing your praises,” Davos tells him.

“If we wanted to be the same we wouldn’t have taken the Throne. The people, all of them, deserve better,” he says.

“And they will under you two,” his Hand reassures him. “And how is her Grace, doing?”

He feels his entire self lighten as he smiles brightly at Davos.

“Her morning illness is gone,” he says.

“Aye. So, you told me yesterday. But there’s a gleam in your eye that makes me think something’s changed,” Davos points out.

He remembers what happened this morning and tears fill his eyes just at the memory of it.

“I can see it. It’s small and it’s mostly under her clothing but I can finally see it, Davos,” he reveals and he relives the happiness he felt this morning at his discovery.

He had woken up and moved his hand down onto where their child grew as he did every morning. However, today had been different. He had felt it, a slight swell that had not been there the night before. He knew her body so well that he knew it had changed. And as he looked down, he saw the roundness that proved the existence of their child. He wept. Enough so that he had woken Dany and had to show her his discovery. The rest of the morning neither of them could keep their hand off the little bump. He had even made her sit on his lap to break their fast just so he could keep his hand there. It took all of his willpower to leave them alone to get ready for the marriage ceremony.

“Your Grace, if you’re crying now just at the first feel, you’ll be a complete mess when the babe finally starts kicking in there and when it is finally born,” the Onion Knight teases.

He laughs at the smuggler's words knowing them to be true. He wipes his eyes, averting the tears that were close to falling. There’s still a small pang that hits his heart however at the thought of their first child.

“She was this far along last time Davos,” he reveals to his advisor. “Maybe even a little more.”

He can see the sympathy in the older man’s eyes. After Missandei and Dany had told him about Lyanna he had told the smuggler. When the guilt would eat away at him, Davos would remind him to live in the present. He would be the support and comfort he needed when he couldn’t turn to Dany.

“You’re not going to make the same mistakes. This child is going to live,” Davos assures him. “You will watch your wife grow, you will feel the babe’s kicks, and then you will hold him in your arms. It won’t be like last time.”

He nods knowing what the sailor said was true. But still, there were times the question of “what if” would come to mind to torment him. What if he had held her close even once, would he have noticed the bump? Would he have realized that their daughter was growing in her? He liked to believe yes, that even then he would have seen the difference in his beloved's body.

But that kind of thinking got him nowhere.

“Did you see what you will be crowned with?” Davos asks, taking him out of his thoughts.

“I did. Gendry outdid himself, both with the crown and throne I'm glad you managed to find him,” he answers.

Once the Wildfire had died down Davos had immediately asked permission to go searching for the young blacksmith.  Thankfully the future lord of Storms End survived unharmed and immediately pledged his loyalty to both him and his Queen.

“Is he ready for tomorrow?” he asks

“He’s nervous. All his life the lad was a bastard and tomorrow he will be the royal Blacksmith and the Lord of Storms End with the approval of the Lords of the Stormlands,” Davos says with pride.

Before they named Gendry Lord of Storms End, he and Dany had gathered the lords of the Stormlands to introduce them to the man. They had asked their opinions and they had all agreed to have Gendry as their liege lord as long as the man accepted their guidance which he did.

He can just imagine how proud Davos must be seeing the two bastards he cared for elevated to their highest potential.  

A knock is heard at the door and Missandei enters the room with a shy smile.

“Your Grace, everything is in place for the ceremony to begin. The Queen sent me to see if you’re ready,” she says.

“Aye I believe I am,” he says as he begins to walk towards the door, but the translator shakes her head.

“You are forgetting your crown, Your Grace,” she tells him, and he rolls his eyes.

“I’ll get it on him Missandei and make sure he gets down to the Sept,” Davos reassures her.

She leaves with a nod and Davos goes to the chest containing his crown.

“You have to get used to wearing this lad, your Queen deserves to marry a king,” Davos says and he can’t help but smile.

His Hand brings him the chest and opens it to reveal his crown. It was both Stark and Targaryen, fire and ice. He was a Targaryen, but he could not forget that his mother was a Stark, especially if he wanted to claim the North when it came time to tell them. It had rubies, like the ones his father had on his armor when he went to fight on the Trident, as the eyes of the direwolves reminding him of Ghost. It also had obsidian, what they planned to use to kill the dead as the eyes of the dragons. Two houses that came together to divide and plunge this country to war and will now come together again to bring peace and unity.

He sighs as he picks up the iron crown, the only thing that remained of the Iron Throne. He and Dany had burned it after he had taken her at least once on it. The only good memory he would ever have of that thing.

We can’t forget the past but must move on with the future.

That’s what this crown was, the past all wrapped into one object and it will lay upon the head of the future.

He places it upon his head, feeling the burden that wearing it carries. He straightens up, hoping to look like the King he is meant to be. With a nod, Davos lets him know he’s ready and together they walk out of the room. His Northern Guards faithfully fall in step, following him closely as do his Unsullied and Dothraki Bloodriders.

They walk out to the temporary Sept where both a representative of the Seven and a Priestess from Volantis stand awaiting them. They had decided to marry under different faiths. If they were to be the rulers to all, they needed to accept the beliefs of all and allow the practice of any religion. All Targaryens and Nobility followed the Seven, the Red Priestess had brought him back to life and the Old Gods had granted them a second chance. If they survived the War Against the Dead he would carry Dany to the Winterfell Godswood and will marry her in front of the Heart Tree.

But for now, this will do.

He tries to ignore the number of people that are there trying to focus instead on the fact that he is marrying his love. After what feels like an eternity he sees her. She’s an absolute beauty dressed completely in their house colors, her own golden crown upon her head, as Ser Jorah walks her towards him.

“My brother Viserys wanted a golden crown, it was what was promised to him by Drogo. He was cruel but he was once a good brother.”

He had just made one request to Gendry and that was to have Winter Roses on it, lined with blue sapphires. His father had once crowned his mother with them, and he now wanted his wife to have the same.

“At the House of the Undying, I had a vision. I saw the Wall and a Blue Winter Rose was growing on it. I didn’t understand it at first but now I’ve come to realize it was you.”

This was destined. Them being together was meant to be. When she had revealed that vision to him and about her dreams of him as a shadow lover, he had taken her to the closest room to make love to her.

As she stands next to him he mostly ignores what the High Priest says and what the Red Priestess said just to focus on his Dany. He only pays attention when its time to drape his black cloak, with white direwolves and red dragons around her shoulders and to say the words he never dreamed of saying until he met her.

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger, I am hers (his) and she (he) is mine, from this day to the end of my days,” they both say together as their hands are bound.

They finish the rest of the ceremonies and does not need to be told twice when he finally wraps his arm around her and kisses her deeply. He doesn’t hear the claps and cheers of the people or the loud yells of their Dothraki or even the roars of their dragons and the howl from Ghost. His full attention is on the woman in his arms, the love of his life, his queen and now his wife.  

Chapter Text

She tries to think. She needs to think.

The truth about who Jon is, keeps going through her mind.

Not Jon.

No, apparently his name is Aegon Targaryen, the heir to the Iron Throne.

She should be relieved. Her father was not unfaithful to her mother. The honorable Ned Stark never fathered a bastard. No instead he was so loyal to his flesh and blood that he accepted a stain on his honor to protect his sister’s son. A son who could claim the throne and give the North its well-deserved independence.  

But her cousin couldn’t accept his birthright, no, he had to go and give it to a foreign invader who happened to open her legs for him.

Men couldn’t be trusted, they were too easily manipulated, too easily distracted.  That’s why she needed to be Queen, she wouldn’t stand by and let another man or another queen to control her or control the North.

But she couldn’t do this alone. To get rid of these dragons she needed the support of Ned Stark’s only son.

She finds him in the Godswood, where he tends to spend most of his time. He’s alone and seems to be waiting for her, no emotion on his face.

“Bran,” she says stopping in front of him.

“Sansa,” he answers.

“You knew. You’ve known this whole time that they were lying to the Lords!” she exclaims.

“They weren’t lying,” he answers in his monotone voice.

“Yes they were, he claimed to be our father’s son,” she reminds him.

“No, he didn’t he just said he had Stark blood and he does. He is the son of our aunt Lyanna, he has just as much Stark blood as we do,” Bran says.

“Bran the Northern Lords need to know,” she tells him.

“They will, whenever the time is right,” he tells her.

“And when will that be? Months from now, years? They need to know now! They need to know and we have to get these dragons away from the North!”

“You want to be Queen of the North, Northern Independence,” Bran says as a fact.

“It’s what we deserve, and you have to help me by telling the Lords,” she says.

“I won’t help you.”

She freezes at that, feeling betrayed by the last of her family.

“What? I’m your sister, you’re supposed to help me,” she tells him, trying to push down the tears that threaten to come out. Her brother looks sad and looks away from her seeming to be somewhere else.

“In another life, I would have helped you,” he starts sadly. “I would have helped you get what you wanted because I thought it was what a brother was supposed to do. You would have been Queen and the North would be free. But it would have ruined two lives, killed millions, including someone of our own blood, and the wheel would have kept rolling. More rebellions, more war, more people starving and countless dead until there were no more Starks in the world,” he finally turns to look at her. “I won’t make that mistake again, Sansa. I’ve made my choice and now you have to make yours. Will you stand with your family or against it?”

“What I’m doing, I’m doing for our family, Bran,” she says, trying to hide the eerie feeling his previous statement gave her.

“No, you’re doing it for yourself,” he says calmly. “You’re doing it because you’re afraid because you want to be in control. We need to be united to defeat the dead.  The last thing the North deserves is for its people to starve during winter just because of your desires to become queen,” he says.

She feels her blood boil at hearing the Dragon Queen’s words being said by her brother.

She turns and walks away going to the gate of the Godswood. Brienne is waiting for her and she turns to her faithful guard.

“Would you go against your family Brienne?” she asks needing to get someone else’s opinion.

“I… I’m not sure, my lady,” Brienne answers.

“If you thought it was the right thing?” she asks.

“Well, we all have different points of view as to what is right. But I would like to believe I would be able to for the greater good,” Brienne admits.

For the greater good….

The greater good…

Yes… this is for the greater good…For the North.

“For yourself,” a small voice says in her head but she buries it.

“Call all the Northern Lords, there’s something that needs to be revealed.”  

Chapter Text

It’s silent as he and his wife walk into the Great Hall. They both know exactly what this is about and who called all these men and women to gather. He dreads what is to happen next and wished he could spare his wife what is to come. He had tried to convince her to stay with Aemon, but she had refused.

“We swore together and that’s what we will do.”

Ghost, who refused to stay behind, walked next to Dany, in a show of who the very symbol of the Starks stood with. Arya walked behind him, and Bran was already waiting for them in the hall. Aemon had been left with Unsullied, Dothraki and part of their Southern guards in case any of these Lords attempted anything. The Dragons themselves have orders to burn the hall if things got too out of hand.

As they walk in, he sees Sansa sitting in the Lord’s chair, the one he and Dany had taken to using as a throne. He tries his best to keep his anger at bay as he sees the smirk on his cousin’s face.  

“Don’t do this Sansa,” he says giving her one more opportunity to repent and not commit this mistake.

“It's for the greater good, this is for the North,” she answers, the smugness not once moving from her face.

He sighs but refuses to look away from her.

“You two came here with Southern armies, Dothraki Screamers, Unsullied, and three dragons. You claimed it was to fight the dead to help protect the North,” she speaks staring straight at them. “I believe that’s partially true,” she admits. “However, I believe the main reason you two came here with all your armies was to conquer the North, to make it bend to your will.”

They hear the grumbling of some of the Northerners but he sees that many actually keep quiet and look skeptically at Sansa.

Thankfully Lyanna Mormont is one of them. That little girl who shared a name with his mother and daughter kept her faith with him, especially since she took the time to better know her Queen and the people around them. Other Lords and Ladies following the execution of Lord Glover had also taken time to get better acquainted with the Royals. Some had even begun talking trading deals and possible marriages with Southern Lords when the war was done.

“And you did so with lies,” Sansa adds.

Dany stares at her seeming to be as done with Sansa as much as he is.

“Are you done, Lady Sansa?” his Queen asks, her tone completely regal and cold. Sansa seems to get irritated at being interrupted and undermined by Dany especially when Dany turns her back to her and addresses the Lords. “Neither my husband nor I have come to conquer the North. We came to save it. The lies that Lady Sansa is referring to are actually a truth. A truth that my husband and my husband alone had the right to reveal to you all. Now however Lady Sansa attempts to take that away from my husband, from your King and by doing so has forced our hand.”

“You dare…” Sansa starts but Dany immediately stops her.

“I dare!” she exclaims. “I dare because I am a queen. I am the queen and whether you like it or not you need to show me respect. Not because I demand it or because I ‘deserve’ it but because I have earned it. I have earned it by fighting in battle with my men, I have earned it by freeing slaves from their chains, I have earned it by helping the people with my sweat and blood!”

It’s quieter than the crypts in the hall as his wife shows that she not only rides dragons but that she is a dragon. And it was time to show that he was one as well.  

“My Lords and Ladies,” he finally speaks taking the focus away from the two women and onto him. “You all named me your King. You named me your King for you would not bow to anyone that wasn’t of Stark blood.”

“You’re not a Stark,” Sansa says.

“I'm not,” he agrees not letting her get to him “I’ve never once claimed to be one. All my life I was known as a Snow and I learned to carry that name and all its hardships with me,” some in the room actually show some sympathy, understanding what a bastard in the North goes through.

“Eddard Stark once told me that I did not have his name, but I had his blood,” he tells them, and he sees the agreement and respect at the mention of their dead Lord. “He said this to me the last time I saw him, that along with the promise of revealing who my mother was,” he takes a breath fighting the pain and sadness the memory brought. “When he died, I thought that information died with him. It wasn’t until shortly after I arrived at Dragonstone that I discovered the truth.”

He looks around the room and sees that the has everyone’s full attention. He glances at his Queen one last time and she shows all her support and love through her eyes as she gives him a small nod.  

“The truth that Ned Stark took to the grave was that I was not his son but his nephew,” the murmurs begin and he starts to hear the mentions of his Uncles Brandon and Benjen but none actually guess the truth so he decides to push on. “I have Stark blood, wolf’s blood, not through my father but through my mother.”

He can see that realization begins to hit some of the Lords, especially the older ones, but no one speaks up.

“Robert’s Rebellion was all based on a lie,” he announces, “Rhaegar Targaryen never kidnapped or raped Lyanna Stark.  He annulled his marriage to Elia Martell and married Lyanna in a secret ceremony. When the fighting began, he left her in a tower in Dorne where Eddard Stark found her dying, not because of a fever but because no maester was there to help her give birth to her first and only child. And as she bled out on her birthing bed, she begged her brother to protect her child. To protect the child from suffering the same fate as its siblings whose butchered bodies were presented to her husband’s murderer in Kings Landing.”

He glares at Sansa, directing the next statements at her.

“Ned Stark, loyal as he was to his blood and bound by the promise given to his beloved sister, took that child and claimed him as his own. He gave him a bastard name, took that shame onto himself and brought the child North where he was raised, not as the prince he was born as but as the bastard of Winterfell, who you all eventually named King of the North,” he says before turning around to face the Lords and Ladies again.

“I am the son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Princess Lyanna Stark. My name, the one given to me by my mother with her dying breath, is Aegon Targaryen and before it was destroyed I was the heir to the Iron Throne,” he declares, feeling all the weight of that secret leaving him as he readies himself for the Northerners’ reaction.

But there isn’t one. At least not immediately. But once it processes chaos erupts in the room. Yells of “blasphemy” and “liar” are heard.  Their closest Northern allies, however, seem to have more accepting and understanding features.

“It’s true,” Bran says silencing them all. “I saw everything Aegon has said. I have the document that proves his claim and Lord Howland Reed was a witness to it all who can confirm everything our King has said.”

“Our King?!” Sansa exclaims. “He’s a Targaryen! He has no right to the North!”

Some of the Lords dare to grunt their agreement.

“He has every right,” Lyanna Mormont is the first to speak. She stands and walks before him and Dany. “My mother told me I was named after a wonderful woman. A true Northerner who had more wolf’s blood than any of her brothers,” she gestures around the room, “Everyone here knows that you more than anyone resembled who Ned Stark was and what he believed in.  I named you my King not because of your name but because you earned it. You were who I believed would best lead the North for the years to come,” she looks at Dany, “and after getting to know you and listening to your people I know that, together with the King I chose, you will lead us through the Long Night and the years that may follow.”

The young Mormont takes out her sword and kneels before them both.

“House Mormont swears its loyalty to Aegon and Daenerys of House Targaryen and their descendants after them.”

Their other closest allies follow suit, however, there are those who don’t. He stares at them knowing its pure pride that stops them from accepting his rule. Pride and whatever Sansa has told or promised them.

“Thank you, Lady Lyanna. And I thank the rest of you who have joined her vow of loyalty. Your Houses have demonstrated what true loyalty and honor is and House Targaryen will do it’s best to keep the faith you all have bestowed upon us. But the rest of you all, who refuse to accept our rule, to accept the fact that just as my wife had earned her right to be queen so have I,” he glares at those men. “We say the North Remembers, but you all forget that we have the North because of me. I took the North from the Bolton’s and freed you all from their tyranny. It was me with the help of the Freefolk and the few allies that answered the call. I have earned my right to rule the North!”

“You gave up that right when you went down South and married her!” Sansa yells.

“If there’s someone who lost their right by marrying someone it’s you Lady Bolton!” he yells back.

He hates using that against her, knowing what that bastard did to her. But unfortunately, she has forced his hand and he is tired of her pettiness.

“Wha… what did you call me?” Sansa asks, clearly shaken.

“I called you by your rightful title! You listened to Littlefinger and married Ramsay Bolton and in doing so legitimized his claim to Winterfell and forfeited yours! The only claim you have is to the Dreadfort and even that is something in question!” he roars just as Rhaegal does the same.

“You all demand Northern Independence, you cling on to the idea of being independent!” he yells at the Lords. “Can any of you tell me you can feed all your people without the food from the South?” he asks. “Can any of you survive without the trade with the other kingdoms?” None of them answer. “I have seen the numbers, I have read the reports and I know we can’t! The War of the Five Kings left the North in ruins. We lost too many men and did not prepare for winter. Even without the army of the dead marching down, we would die without the other six kingdoms in less than three years. You need to accept that the idea of a Free North, an isolated North, is no longer sustainable.”

He can see that he’s beginning to get through to the Lords and pushes on.

“It’s time we put aside our pride. Yes, we’re Northerners, yes, we are Blood of the First Men, and we should remember our histories and keep our traditions. But we need to move forward, we can’t keep living in the past,” he explains and hears grunts of agreements.  “A Stark bowed to a Targaryen to bring peace and save his people. The Pact of Ice and Fire was made between both Houses to join them and it was finally fulfilled by my father and my mother and now with myself and my queen. House Targaryen is wed to the North; it has become part of the North. And just as the Northern Houses have banded together to protect each other so too will House Targaryen step up to defend you.”  

Dany takes that moment to step up and address the Lords.

“We understand, truly we do. Just as we proved ourselves in the South with the war against Cersei, we will prove our devotion to you all with the upcoming war. We will fight with you and we will fight for you and together all Seven Kingdoms will defeat Death itself and usher in a new prosperous age,” she declares and just like the Unsullied, the Dothraki and the Lords of the South, they win them over. They cheer in agreement before falling to their knees to pledge themselves to their house.

He dares to turn around to look at Sansa and sees the realization of failure on her face along with a hint of fear at what may be his reaction.

“Lady Bolton,” he addresses, as everyone turns silent. “Since we reclaimed Winterfell and I was given the title of King of the North you have tried to undermine me,” he starts. “Even before that you failed to inform me of reinforcements you were aware were on their way during the battle against Ramsay,” he sees her flinch at the name but presses on, “I believe we both know what you tried accomplishing with that.”

He watches as she looks down, trying to look ashamed.

“Then I arrived with my queen and my son as King of the Seven Kingdoms and you continued to try to undermine me. You had secret meetings with different Lords. Spoke of hatred towards my family, my Queen’s people and spoke of committing treason. Then you went behind my back to hire guards that attempted to kill my wife and child before finally attempting to reveal the truth of my birth for you to get into power,” he vents, needing to let all the frustration and anger he’s been holding for her since his last life.

Some angry grumbles are heard as the Lords and Ladies hear what exactly Sansa had done.

“I let it slide because I considered you my sister. The only family I had left before Arya and Bran came back and before I married,” he tells her honestly. “I also understood that life had been hard on you. Life has been hard on all of us. But that does not excuse your actions. And I’m done with it all.”

He watches a Sansa tries to keep her brave face on, but her eyes reveal how scared she is.

“All I did, I did for the North! The North should not have to be ruled by another tyrant,” she argues.

“Stop using the North as your excuse for your ambition,” Arya speaks for the first time. “Since we were girls you wanted to be queen. You got your direwolf killed because you lied to you save your engagement. Then you told Cersei we were leaving and that lead to our father to be killed. You would have killed me had you not gone to talk to Bran about Littlefinger. You’re not a Stark, you’re a wicked combination of Cersei and Littlefinger.”

Sansa stays quiet and looks at them all for a moment, probably trying to come up with a plan. But when she looks at the support the Lords and Ladies are showing them and the shake of Bran’s head, she seems to allow resignation to take over her.

“And what will you do?” she asks.

“You will be stripped of your title of Lady of Winterfell and of any title in the North. You will be confined to your quarters and if you are required anywhere you will be escorted by Unsullied. After the war is over you will be expelled from the North and sent to Essos to spend the rest of your days under the watch of the Dothraki,” he declares and he sees her face turn to horror.

“No! I'm not… I can’t go live… I vowed never to leave the North!” her voice trembles as she yells.

“You’ve left me no choice! Had you shown even an ounce of regret I would have let you stay in Westeros, sent you to a loyal house in the south. But now I can see that leaving you anywhere near power, near politics and you will begin to scheme,” he explains.

“Sending me there is cruel!” Sansa exclaims and that sets something off in him.

“Cruel?! If I wanted to be cruel, I would have performed the Eagle on Lord Glover when he tried to kill my family. Cruel would be for me to get up and take all my forces to the South and wait for the dead as you and all the stubborn Lords are torn apart limb by limb. Cruel would have been to let the common people die at your hands just for your pettiness. Cruel would have been forcing you to marry, cutting out your tongue or, as your husband like to do, flaying you for your treachery,” he says breathing hard as he reveals the dark thoughts that may have crossed his mind at one point or another but that he had pushed down.

He sees the fear in Sansa’s eyes and the silence from the Lords speaks volumes. They’re afraid of him and they need to be. Yes, through love and merits he and Dany had conquered the South and she had conquered Essos. But they both agree that no matter how much they wished otherwise fear was something they needed to use as well.

“I’ve had enough of this,” he says before turning to look at his wife and giving her a nod.

Unsullied,” she says in Valyrian and their soldiers stand in attention. “Take Lady Sansa to her quarters and set up a guard. No one in or out without direct permission from the King or me.”

Without having to be told twice the Unsullied move to seize Sansa and take her to her room.

“Jon! Jon, please don’t do this!” she begs out as she begins to be dragged out of the hall.

“Aegon, Sansa. You insisted so much on me revealing who I am, the least you can do is call me by my real name, Aegon,” he tells her as she is taken away.

He takes Dany’s hand and they walk to the head table, letting her take the seat that Sansa had just vacated. He stands behind her his hand on her shoulder, looking at all the Lords and Ladies.

“We are done here, my Lords and Ladies. We must continue with our preparations for the battle to come. Please go and keep in mind that my husband and I will no longer tolerate nor be as merciful as we have been,” Dany warns and dismisses everyone. With a small bow, everyone but the Starks leaves the hall.

His queen reaches up to take his hand and squeezes it.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly, turning her head to kiss his hand.

“Don’t be,” Arya answers before he can. “You both gave her warnings, many of them. You let a lot of things slide because she was our sister. She could have gotten you all killed with her stunt today and she didn’t even seem to realize it.”

“She’s still your sister,” Dany says.

Arya doesn’t answer and just takes a deep sad breath.

“What are you going to do next Lady of Winterfell?” he asks, and he watches as she rolls her eyes and gives him a small smile.

“It’s going to take a while to get used to that. I’m still not sure you made the right decision,” Arya says.

“We did. Just remember, you can be whatever kind of Lady you want to be,” Dany answers.

“Alright, the first thing I’m going to do is challenge each guard of Winterfell and see which of them is even worthy of serving me,” his youngest sister answers.

“And then?” he asks.

“I…I may go find Gendry and tell him the news,” she admits before bowing and leaving them alone.

“You two should go spend the day with Aemon,” Bran says with a frown. “I’m not sure how many more we may have. He’ll arrive at the Wall any day now and once that happens.”

They both tense knowing the truth in his words. With just a glance at each other, they agree to Bran’s suggestion and return to their room to spend time with their child.

Chapter Text

They’re lying in their bed unwilling to rise.

Unwilling to disturb the peace they are clinging to.

Refusing to face what today entails.

The last caravan is leaving today. The Night King could arrive any day at the Wall and they couldn’t risk the lives of those who could not fight any longer. The people had to leave.

And their son with them.

It was inevitable, it had always been.  But this was their son, their babe, the one thing they yearned for more than anything since their return and now they had to send him away. To keep him safe from the death that is sure to come, he needed to leave and go to Kings Landing.

They know this but it was killing them.

He smiles as he watches Dany play quietly with Aemon. His little boy tries his best to reach for the small toy his mother holds above him, each time barely failing to do so. Neither of them could truly sleep knowing that it was their last day with their son, so they took him and placed him between the two of them just taking him in and memorizing every feature they could. Dany smiles at their son, as the babe begins his babbling and he swears he could spend the rest of his life just watching this.

But he knows it’s getting late, that they need to get out of bed and prepare. With one look at his wife he knows she knows as well.

“We need to get up, Dany,” he says, trying his hardest to keep his voice from shaking.

Her eyes begin to water and she shakes her head.

“Another hour,” she asks, as her voice trembles. “And another after that.”

He reaches across the bed and places his hand on her cheek, running his thumb across it.

“I wish I could give all the hours in the world with him. That we could keep him here with us but we can’t, love.”

Were there a safe place within Winterfell things would be different. They could surround him with soldiers and even put Ghost and Viserion as protectors.  But just the memory of what happened in the crypts and the amount of dead inside the castle at the end of the battle ruined any possibility of their son staying.

Her tears begin to fall as she allows herself this moment of vulnerability.  

“I can’t,” she sobs as she lovingly caresses his little head.

“We must, Dany,” his own voice catching.

“If we fall… he won’t remember us, he'll grow up alone, just as we did, never knowing how much we love him.”

She’s right. He won’t remember them, just as they did not remember their own mothers or fathers. He knows that they’ve written letters. Letters that will be given to him in case they don’t survive. But those won’t be enough. Not for a child that is to be raised as King and will only wonder why his parents were not in his life.

“He’ll know. He already knows,” he tries to reassure her and himself. “Missandei, Olenna, the Dothraki, they’ll remind him, they’ll make sure he knows how to be a dragon, how to survive down South and be the greatest king he can be.”

She nods, telling him that she realizes these things, but it still hurts.

“Come, love, we…we need to get ready,” he says and with a nod, she agrees.

They both rise from their bed, Dany gently taking Aemon into her arms, placing a kiss upon his head. He readies as fast as he can, wanting to waste as little time as possible. When he’s done, he takes Aemon from Dany to allow her to get ready.

As he stares down at his son, looking into his grey eyes, he can’t help but remember the night he was born.

 

Bran had sent a raven telling them it was time to return to Winterfell. With the full support of the Southern Kingdoms, all armies are sent North. Those who were not going with the armies were sailing to White Harbor. Some had argued that they should stay in Kings Landing or wait before flying there, however they would not and could not abandon their armies. They needed to arrive together at Winterfell, to show them their united front and eventually explain everything. What worried him, however, was that Dany was due any day now. Her Dothraki midwives were constantly around her, feeling her stomach, and making sure everything is alright. The boat rocks as one of them examine his wife.

“Any day now, Khaleesi, the little Khalakka is ready to come,” the midwife says as she finishes her exam.

“Thank you,” Dany answers as she straightens herself up.

“Will we stay long here at Dragonstone?” the Dothraki woman asks.

“Not at all, the Khal is just going to make a quick visit before we follow the rest of the ships,” his wife explains.

They had not been to Dragonstone since they conquered Kings Landing, which meant they hadn’t visited Lyanna’s Cliff. They both knew she wasn’t truly there, but they felt the need to visit her regardless, especially if they weren’t to return from the upcoming war. Dany wouldn’t be able to make the journey up to the cliff, but he would.

The sun was beginning to set as they docked and with a kiss on her lips and one on her belly, he said his short farewell to Dany before he set out. The Dragons were already waiting for him there on the cliff but Ghost had stayed with Dany on the boat. The three boys push against each other trying to get some affection from him.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry for not spending enough time with you,” he apologizes to the dragons who just huff some smoke at him before letting him take a seat in the grass.

He takes a deep breath, taking in the scent of the sea and the surrounding grass, needing a moment to gather his thoughts and collect his emotions.

“Hello Lya,” he starts speaking out loud. “I’m so sorry for not coming to talk to you but your mama and I have been quite busy at Kings Landing.”

He tells her all about what’s happened at the Capital. How the Houses had pledged their loyalty, how Jaime Lannister had returned alone with a white from beyond the wall, and how the Golden Lion had taken his daughter to spend the rest of his days at Casterly Rock after he had killed Cersei.

He needs to swallow to try and fight the tightness in his throat as his next reveal comes up.

“Your Mama would have been here but it’s hard for her to walk or climb on Drogon right now,” he explains and Drogon gives an agreeing grunt. “Y…you’re going to be a big sister, Lya.  Your Mama is expecting a babe that could be here at any time.”

Tears start running down his face as the guilt starts to build in him.

“I’m sure you would have been a great sister, that you would have loved your new sibling. You would have played with him when he got older in the Red Keep, got into trouble together…,” his voice chokes into sobs and Rhaegal rubs his head gently against him, trying to give some comfort. It takes a few breaths to calm down, but he finally does.  

“We’re going to war, Lya and we’re not sure if we’ll come back,” he tells her. “I’ll try my best to make sure your Mama does, that at least she and your brother make it back,” the Dragons seem to pick up on the fact that he doesn’t include himself and let their dislike of that known. “I’ll try to come back as well, but if I don’t… I hope to be able to go to you. To be able to hold you and tell you how sorry I am and how much I love you. And if it’s not meant to be during this war, maybe one day I will.”

As he closes his eyes, he swears he feels a little hand on his cheek and hears a small giggle. But as he opens his eyes and looks beside him no one is there. Instead of thinking too much about it he sits in silence staring out to the setting sun. It’s when the stars begin to appear, and he begins to stand that a loud howl alerts him that something is happening.  The dragons too start to roar and get restless. Drogon seems ready to burn down anything in his path and all he hears in his head is one word.

Mother.

He doesn’t even consider walking down towards the ship, instead, he immediately climbs onto Rhaegal’s back and flies down to where the howls are coming from.

 

“What are you thinking about?” a voice takes him out of his thoughts.

He looks up from Aemon and sees his wife nearly done getting ready.

“How handsome of a lad he is,” he answers with a smile and she smiles as well. “And remembering the day he was born.”

“Before or after you punched three Unsullied, two Dothraki and Ser Jorah?” she asks teasingly.

“Before. I hadn’t gotten to his actual birth yet,” he admits. 

It had possibly been one of the most terrifying moments of his life. He wanted to be in there with Dany, but “tradition” stated otherwise. When Dany began screaming in pain, he had hit anyone who got in his way including their loyal guards. He was finally able to go in the room when they realized he was not going to be stopped. He laid behind his wife, trying to give her strength and when he felt her body relax and heard the first cries of their son, everything he had ever done in his life seemed to finally find a purpose.

“You should have seen the pure joy and pride in your eyes when you held him. You still have it every time you do,” she says.  

“I never expected to have a son,” he reminds her. “Having one just proved Uncle Aemon’s words that nothing compares to holding one in your arms.”

It was and continues to be one of the happiest things in his life. However, the thought that this might be one of the last times he holds him crosses his mind and Dany seems to pick up on it. She pauses for a moment to look at him seeming to be looking for something but says nothing as she turns to finish dressing.

His focus turns once again to Aemon. His son. He feels his eyes welling with tears as he stares into the little eyes looking up at him. Those little eyes that are full of innocence, trust and recognition. His son knows who he is right now, perhaps in his own way loves him. But if he falls, if he never sees him again, then both those things will go away. He needs to take a seat as he feels everything crashing upon him. Sobs overtake him, his shoulders shaking as he lowers his head onto Aemon’s.

He’s no better than Rhaegar. No matter how much he’s come to accept who he is, who he was born from, he hated his father for leaving his siblings, for leaving his wives, for leaving him. Now he’s doing the same to his son. He vowed to be a better husband, a better father than Rhaegar and he’s proving to be the same.

He feels arms wrap around him, filling him with comfort and letting him release everything he’s been holding in since the decision to send Aemon down south was made. He hears her own sobs and tears soaking his shoulder. He lifts his head trying to stem his tears to look at his beloved. She also lifts her head and looks sadly at him.

A little coo brings their attention down to the little babe in his arms, who has a confused look on his face and looks to be getting ready to cry.

“No, no, lad,” he says quickly wiping his own tears, “none of that. You’re going to be happy. Your mama and I want to see you happy.”

Those words seem to stop the crying and both he and Dany try their best to gather themselves. Not wanting to waste any more time. They spend their time trying to make Aemon laugh, feeding him, and changing him into his warmest clothes, preparing him for the long trip.

A knock on the door bursts their peace and Ser Davos enters the room.

“It’s time Your Graces,” he says with sadness as well.

Dany puts on her queenly façade, the breath she takes shaking and he has to put his on as well. They can’t show their weakness, not now. He hands Aemon over to her, letting her hold him as they make their way out of their room and out to the Courtyard.

Wagons, horses and a Wheelhouse are awaiting them. Some Lords and Ladies are also there, saying their goodbyes to their family members. He feels Dany tighten her grip on him as Lady Olenna and a Dothraki wet nurse comes into view. They stop in front of them and he feels Dany’s body shake.

“We will take good care of him, Your Graces and he will be waiting for you two down in Kings Landing,” Olenna promises, probably knowing how hard this is for them.

They both nod, and he watches his wife begins to lose her resolve as she hands over their son to their faithful Dothraki.

“I will care for the Khalakka,” the Dothraki wed nurse vows.

“Make sure he is safe and well-fed,” Dany says. “Keep him warm until he’s safe with Missandei in Kings Landing.”

“I will Khaleesi,” she answers.

“If we fall,” he starts and both women look at him as he tries his best to keep his voice steady. “Make sure he knows who we were, what we fought for, and how much we love him.”

Both women nod. He steps forward and gives Aemon one last kiss.

“I love you my son, more than anything. You are a dragon and a wolf, never forget that” he whispers to him before stepping back to let Dany do the same. She whispers sweet words to him in High Valyrian and seems to refuse to let go. He has to wrap his arms around her and pull her away as he gives Olenna and the Dothraki a nod letting them climb into the wheelhouse.

Dany doesn’t cry nor does he. But he does feel her body threaten to collapse and he tries his best to hold them both up.

They watch as the Wheelhouse begins to roll and their world leaves Winterfell.

A roar is heard as Viserion lands on the Winterfell walls, looking down on them, and he seems to be begging for permission.

“Protect your brother,” Dany tells their gentlest child and with a roar, Viserion takes to the air to follow their son.

He prays to all the gods Old and New to keep his son safe and to give him and his wife the chance to see him again.

Chapter Text

The Wall is gone.

It doesn’t even matter how he did it this time, but the Night King had taken down the Wall and he is on his way. They’re as prepared as they can be. Aegon had fixed their tactics, having learned how poorly they had set up in their past lives and adjusting to the greater numbers they now possess. Only a few hours are left before the dead arrive. Prayers are being said, final words are being exchanged, moments between friends and families are being shared and final meals are being eaten.

She shivers as the cold air hits her as she stands on the barracks of Winterfell staring out to the darkness of the Northern horizon. She can’t help but remember the flames of her Dothraki being extinguished by a wall of the dead that appeared from that horizon. The overwhelming cloud of snow and wind that had engulfed them all and made flying impossible for her and Aegon. She lets out a shaky breath as she attempts to keep some hope alive within her.

She hears some footsteps approaching her and stopping beside her.

“I have been looking for you,” she hears her beloved’s voice say, but she continues to stare at the horizon.

“I wanted you to spend some time with Arya and Bran,” she says as she feels him interlace their hands.

“I said my goodbyes to them, but I need to spend this time with you,” he tells her slightly tugging on her hand to get her to turn to look at him.

She sees his eyes full of fear and emotion that she’s sure is reflected in her own. He caresses her cheek and she leans into his gloved hand closing her eyes to enjoy his small show of affection.

“I love you,” she whispers to him, opening her eyes to look at him again. He leans down to kiss her, first softly before pulling her to press her up against his body.

She needs this, they need this.

He had been ignoring her in their last life, tormented with the knowledge of his true parentage that they did not get an opportunity to really consider that those might have been their last moments together. She feels the tugs at her coat and feels her hands moving unconsciously towards his belt.

She shivers again and they’re reminded that they are outside, and this cannot be done out here.

Before she can say a word, he picks her up and carries her down the barracks and towards the inside of the castle. They don’t care that there are others watching their actions and they ignore the cheers and whistles that soldiers let out at the sight of their King carrying their Queen. As they enter the castle, she catches sight of Arya dragging Gendry towards her quarters, probably with the same goal in mind and she can’t help but smile knowing her good-sister may find some happiness at the end of all this.

She doesn’t get an opportunity to think much about the young couple before her husband is slamming the door open to their rooms and carrying her over the threshold. He begins to kiss her again, closing the door with his foot. It’s not until the slamming of the door is heard that he practically drops her without breaking their kiss. His hands are as desperate as hers, tearing at the garments she is wearing as she does the same to his own. Longclaw falls in a clatter but neither one of them cares as they back onto the bed.

Their first time is desperate.

Hunger and desperation to be with each other driving their actions. It’s rough, it's hard, and she’s sure that she left scratches across the chest and back of her husband, first while she rode him then when he flipped them and pounded into her.

The second time, however, is slow and loving.

They stared into each other’s eyes, memorizing every aspect of their faces as if they hadn’t done so before, only breaking their gaze to give each other tender kisses. The look on her beloved’s face reminded her of their first time on that boat towards White Harbor, full of love and disbelief. His movements were deliberate and deep, dragging on their pleasure and molding her body to his will.  Neither one of them chased their end, wanting to prolong their time together as much as possible.  

But all good things must come to their end.

He collapsed on top of her, his head laying between her breasts, listening to her heartbeat as their breathing returns to normal. She runs her fingers through his curls, enjoying the feeling of them through her fingers.

“Promise me something,” he speaks for the first time since they left the barracks.

“Anything,” she answers.

“First, no matter what happens, you stay on Drogon. I can’t have you on the ground again. I almost lost you if it weren’t for Ser Jorah and although your fighting skills have improved, I don’t want you to take that risk,” he pleads.

“I promise,” she says. She feels the mood shift as he moves to hold his body up off hers and stares into her eyes.

“If I fall tonight…”

“No,” she interrupts him, not even wanting to think of that possibility.  

“Dany, at least one of us has to get back to Aemon.”

“No Aegon Targaryen,” she takes both her hands and grabs his face, forcing him to listen to her.  “We’re both surviving tonight. We’re both going to get to see our little boy again and hold him in our arms  There’s no other option.”

He smiles at her.

“Is that an order, my Queen?”

“Aye, it is. And you can’t go against your Queen’s orders can you?” she teases.

“No I can’t,” he says and lowers himself to kiss her again.

That’s when they hear it, the first blow of the dreaded horn.

They quickly rise and help each other with the armor Gendry had made for them. It showed their Targaryen heritage and Aegon’s Stark heritage as well. Lightweight but strong, easy to maneuver on the dragons with it. They both strap on their warm furs on top of the armor and buckle their swords onto each other’s waists.

The second blow of the horn sounds as they walk out of the room and up to the walls to see their armies prepare for battle.

The third and final blow is heard and she can feel the temperature drop.

He’s here.

“Its time for you two to go, Your Graces,” Davos says standing next to them.

Before they can leave, however, they have to give their Hand a tight embrace.

“Be careful you two. We’ll still need a King and Queen once this is over and a little lad down south will still need his parents,” Davos reminds them as he let’s go.

“We will,” they both answer simultaneously, turning to leave and walk towards the Southern gate.

They hear howls approaching them as they arrive there. They see Ghost along with another Direwolf and a pack of wolves arrives.

“Its Nymeria, my Direwolf,” she hears Arya say next to her. She shouldn’t startle from her sudden appearance but she does. “I'm guessing they’ve come to help.”

She turns towards her good sister and embraces her one last time.

“Be careful,  Arya,” she tells the young woman.

“You too,” she says simply before giving Aegon a hug as well.

With a simple head nod, Arya leads the pack of wolves towards the Godswood where they can defend and be easily warged by Bran.

Rhaegal and Drogon land in front of them, having been saddled up and armored up earlier in the evening. She can feel their dislike of the armor but just the memory of both Viserion and Rhaegal falling to their deaths is enough to make her take these extra precautions. The saddles had been Tyrion’s last gift to them before leaving the capital to go to Casterly Rock. He had realized how unstable and uncomfortable riding the dragons could be and decided to have these saddles commissioned, following the instructions of an ancient text that he had read.

She walks towards Drogon, getting ready to climb on when her husband grabs her arm and pulls her closer to him.

“I love you,” he says with emotion lacing his voice. “No matter what happens tonight, I need you to know that. I love you more than anything and if it meant suffering all I did in my life to be with you and have the life we now do, I would do it all over again.”

She fights the tears and instead pulls him towards her lips and kisses him with everything she has. It’s the slight growl from the dragons that remind them of the task in hand and they both pull away.  Looking at each other one last time and sharing one more brief kiss they both walk away from each other and climb onto the dragons.

They give each other one last nod before giving Drogon the order.

“Soves.”

And both Drogon and Rhaegal fly up into the dark cold night sky ready for the battle to come.

Chapter Text

He can barely see.

The storm was brought as soon as the first waves of the dead hit the flaming trenches. He and Dany barely managed to light them all before the cloud engulfed them. But the fire does help to see. The catapults have begun to be launched attempting to lower the numbers as much as they can

They watch as the first lines of the dead extinguish the first of the trenches, followed by the second, he hears the horses of the Knights of the Vale and Southern forces below him, ready to ride towards the sides before quickly retreating. He can barely see Dany across the field flying above the Dothraki, but he can’t help but stare towards her, worried.

The first horn is blown and with a roar, the first group of riders, ride hard towards the sea of death. Rhaegal follows prepared to make his runs across the field as Drogon does the same. Bodies upon bodies begin to fall both from the dead and from their forces. Rhaegal does his best to burn as many as he can but just as before, the horde seems endless. The second horn is blown as he arrives at the opposite side of the field and quickly turns around to join the second group of Dothraki as the survivors of the first retreat.

The third horn announces their final retreat and the riders ride to the Southern gate and dismount their horses ready to prepare to man the walls. The Dothraki, however, receive their bows and prepare for their assault as archers.

As the next trench is beginning to be extinguished and the Unsullied begin their task of slowing the dead down. The catapults are loaded once again to try to bottleneck the dead and as they land, horrible green flames are seen.

Both he and Dany hesitated in using the substance that two Mad Rulers had used against people. But they needed to use whatever was at their disposal and Wildfire seemed to do its job as the dead were forced to only attack from a certain area. The Dothraki, having been split to both sides, once again attack, this time using their best archery skills to support the Unsullied. A trench behind them, the archers of the south and a few from the North, begin to release their volley of dragon glass-tipped arrows as well.

Another horn blow is heard, signaling the retreat of the archers to ground further back, followed by the Unsullied and Dothraki. When there are only two lines of Unsullied left, Greyworm and other commanders release the ramps, stopping the dead from using them but sacrificing the Unsullied left on the other side of the trench.

This couldn’t be helped either. They wanted to save as many lives but everyone knew that sacrifices needed to be made and their men were conscious of this. To buy more time for the retreating archers and Unsullied to settle in their new positions he and Dany made a few more passes, making sure to light the trench as well.

He risks a glance to the North and sees the Night King, surrounded by his generals, staring directly at him. The creature dismounts his undead horse and takes a few steps forward, accepting a spear from his companion. He feels dread hit his stomach as memories of what those spears could do threaten to bring him to the past. He sees his wife turning to make another run.

“DANY!”

How he yelled her name he’s not sure. Was it out loud or through their Dragon bonds? It doesn’t matter but she seems to somehow hear him, and he feels the dread and fear of both her and Drogon as they realize what he has and manage to dodge the Night King’s spear.

Some relief invades his body as she watches his love fly back closer to Winterfell and away from the Night King. He quickly does the same.

The battle plans are followed almost exactly as were ordered. But just as they knew would happen, even with the dragons diminishing the dead, they begin their ascension of the walls. They had coated the walls with tar and they set them on fire in a small attempt to slow them and give them enough time to kill those that manage to get above the walls. He burns as many as he can, flying as close as he can to the walls and away from the Night King who just seems to be coming closer.

But he feels a pull in the back of his mind.

Ghost

He flies Rhaegal towards the Godswood and he quickly dismounts, walking towards Bran. He hears Drogon land as well and Dany quickly walks towards them.

“Aegon? What’s going on? Why did you change our plans?” she asks.

He looks towards his wife letting her know that he’s just as confused before turning to face his brother.

“What is it?” he asks, concerned as to why he was called.

“He’s coming,” Bran says in his monotone voice, however in his eyes he can see fear and desperation. “He’s after me and I finally know why.”

“Why?” Arya asks, having moved in closer with both Theon and Alys Kastark.

“Because I know there is only one person that can kill him,” Bran admits, staring at him with sadness.

“Yes, Arya,” he tells him ignoring the confused looks on the others' faces.

“No. She only killed him for a few years. He would have eventually returned and by then the person who could have killed him would have been gone,” Bran explains.

“How could that person be gone?” Dany asks.  Bran looks at her sadly before looking at him directly.

“Because Aegon only lived a year after Kings Landing,” Bran answers.  

He freezes, not having told anyone about this. Everyone who remembers and who was told thought he was immediately sent back but that wasn’t true. He had lived one miserable year after his beloved’s death before he…

“You saw me become king. You saw Sansa become Queen. You saw what we all failed to see and that was that it had been a mistake to kill Daenerys. You didn’t need ten years to figure that out as Tyrion suggested not even ten minutes. You immediately knew. You felt it, your fire died the moment she did and instead of being both fire and ice, you let ice consume you until you ended it,” Bran says and he hears his wife’s gasp. He turns to look at her and sees the horror in her eyes, not at the fact that he had lived but at the fact that he had ended his own life.

“I’m sorry… I couldn’t… I can’t live without you Dany. I tried, but I felt nothing… I had nothing. Had I known about Lya I would have ended it even sooner,” he admits trying to push back his tears.

Dany walks towards him and wraps her arms around him, trying to offer some comfort.

“Only the Song of Ice and Fire can defeat him. Blood of both Dragons and Wolves, Valerians and the First Men,” Bran announces and both he and Dany let go of each other and look at him. “And just like Azor Ahai, you must kill him with the blade you pierced your beloved’s heart with.”

From within his cloak, he takes out a dagger and as he looks at it, he recognizes what it is.

“No!” he backs away from Bran and away from his biggest mistake.

“You have to,” Bran says.

“I am not touching that ever again!” he yells at his brother.

“It has to be done, Aegon. It’s the only way for him to die for good,” Bran presses.

Before he can argue against it, the temperature begins to drop and the fires themselves seem to simmer down.

“He’s here,” Dany says looking at him with fear in her eyes.

“Go, get on Drogon and continue to help those at the castle. Send those with Valaryian Steel to help us with the Walkers. I'll stay here to protect Bran and…” he takes a deep breath and takes the cursed dagger which burns in his hand. “I'll try to end this.”

She kisses him.

“Please…” she whispers and all he can do is nod, knowing what she’s begging from him.

She walks to Drogon and both dragons take off with her.

“Jon,” Arya says.

“Later, if we survive the night I'll tell you everything,” he answers and before they can say anything more they see them. All the White Walkers and the Night King, surrounded by whites.

He takes out Longclaw and saves the dagger in his belt. Soldiers around them nock their arrows ready for the attack. And just as he releases a deep breath it all starts.

The dead charge and the wolves immediately begin tearing apart the dead. Soldiers around him begin killing everything coming towards them. He himself begins to kill as many as he can, trying to get to the Night King.

He’s not sure how long he’s been fighting when he catches a glimpse of the reinforcements with Valerian Steel. He hears one of the Dragons roar and the forest is set aflame to kill those inside.

The White Walkers and Night King finally make their move and begin battling as well.

Longclaw clashes with the Night King’s blade and he fights with everything he has. As the fight continues, he feels his strength beginning to fade and knows that he will lose if he doesn’t end this. He feels like he’s getting the upper hand and as he tries to make a killing blow

He makes a mistake…

He feels the ice-cold blade pierce his abdomen. Cold fills his veins and everything around him seems to still. The King gives him a smirk and he feels his blood seeping out of him.

“JON!” he hears someone yell but he can’t do anything but stare into the Night King’s cold blue eyes.

He grabs hold onto the Night King’s shoulder, surprising him, and with a shaking hand reaches for his dagger before stabbing the monster.

Shock shows on his face before he shatters into millions of pieces, dying once and for all.

All the dead and all the Walkers either collapse or shatter, ending the Long Night.

He collapses onto the ground; the blade having shattered with its wielder. He knows what’s happening, he knows what awaits him but he desperately needs to see her.

“Jon!” Arya exclaims as she kneels next to him. “Hold on Jon, we’re going to get a Maester.”

“D…D… Dany,” he struggles to say feeling his body beginning to convulse.

Roars followed by the shaking ground let him know she’s arrived. His eyesight is beginning to darken but he frantically seeks her out. He feels her lift his head and places it on her lap, holding him in her arms.

“D… D…,” he tries.

“Shhh, please, please,” she begs and he watches as tears fall from her beautiful violet eyes. He can’t look away wanting his last view of this world to be the woman he loves. He has so much to say to her, so much to tell, but he feels himself fading and he knows there’s one thing he needs to say at least one last time.

“I…I…lo…ve… y…you,” he gasps out as his mouth fills with his blood.

“I love you,” she sobs, “Please don’t leave me, please.”

He wishes he can assure her, that he can keep his promise but the darkness closes in.  It hurts more than his wound to break her heart this way to cause her so much pain but at least he dies knowing she and their son will be safe.

He stares into her eyes and as everything fades the last thing, he feels are her soft, gentle lips against his own.

My Dany…

Chapter Text

Empty…Numb…Cold…

She’s not sure who pried her off her husband’s body. She lost consciousness at one point and she awoke alone in her room. Not even a second had passed when she demanded to see her husband’s body and she has not left his side since.

His body is cold, cleansed from any blood, prepared for his funeral to be held later today. His royal clothing dressed his body, his crown placed upon his head and he looked every bit the Targaryen King he was born to be and had eventually become.

Just looking at him makes her want to cry but she feels like she has no tears left.

She hasn’t eaten, she hasn’t slept. She hopes that this is all a nightmare, that her love will awaken any moment. But it doesn’t happen. She’s spent her hours holding his cold hand, caressing his hair and whispering into his ear.

How is she supposed to go on without him? He only lived a year without her in their past life. How is she supposed to live without him for an entire lifetime? That’s something she hasn’t figured out and believes she never truly will.

There’s a knock at the door and she hears creaking of wheels entering the room.

“Your Grace,” the monotone voice of Brandon Stark says but she refuses to turn away from her husband. “I need you to join me.”

She shakes her head.

“I can’t leave him,” she tells the young man, her voice catching.

“It’s important for the future of your house for you to come with me. He’ll still be here, when we’re done,” Bran says, somehow lacing his voice with sympathy.

“I don’t care about that anymore, Bran. My husband is dead. Please just let me be with him alone,” she begs, no longer caring what others may think of her.

“If not for you, do it for Aemon then,” he says, and she can’t argue or push back against that.  

She stands, her legs shaking from lack of use and weakness. She leans down kissing her love’s brow, vowing to return to his side soon.

She follows Brandon Stark through the Keep and out into the Courtyard. She sees the people’s sympathy and hears their condolences as they show their respects. She tries not to break in front of her subjects and tries her best to keep her queenly demure but its proving harder than ever before. She’s surprised when they arrive at the entrance of the crypts, unable to understand why they would be there before an idea comes to mind.

“I’m not putting him here,” she growls, assuming that is what the last male Stark has brought her here.

“No, my brother is a Targaryen. He doesn’t belong down here,” Bran agrees.

“Then why are we here, my Lord?” she asks.

“I need you to go down there and find something,” Bran tells her.

“You took me away from my husband’s side to go on a scavenger hunt in the Stark crypts?” she asks with disdain.

“One of your ancestors left something down there. Had there been more time, Aegon would have found it. But now that duty belongs to you.  Once you find what’s down there, you’ll know what to do,” the young Stark says.

She’s about to argue against this again, but feels something, a pull, magic, leading her down into the crypts. She risks one more glance towards Bran and he gives her a small reassuring nod, confirming what she needs to do. She descends the steps and fights the memories of being down here with Aegon. She passes the statures of Eddard Stark and Lyanna Stark, her eyes filling at the thought that their sacrifices to keep Aegon alive had been in vain. She should have protected him, been there on the ground to stop the Night King from killing him.

Stop… just keep going

She keeps feeling the pull and walks deeper into the crypts. But instead of feeling the chill that had filled her bones since her arrival at Winterfell, she begins to feel the warmth. Warmth she had not felt since leaving Essos. She touches the wall and feels the scalding heat and a faint memory comes to mind.

“Winterfell is heated by hot springs, much warmer than these. I’d love to take you down there one day,” he had said to her behind their waterfall. She wrapped her legs and arms around him, loving the feeling of his flesh against her own.

“These are warm enough, besides it’s your job to keep me warm,” she says and he gives her a sly smile.

“Aye, and I promise to keep you warm for the rest of my life.”

She shakes her head pushing that memory deep into her heart. She can’t think about those moments now. She needed to be strong, she needed to find a way to fight the pain, at least until she was alone. She continues to follow the pull until she stops in front of a tomb, adorned with a statue representing whichever lord this happened to be.

She doesn’t see anything of significance and is ready to turn around a leave when a force takes control of her body and makes her kneel and open the tomb. Inside she finds a chest, one baring the Targaryen crest. Her hands shake as she pulls the chest out and as she opens it, she feels her world crashing around her.

She sobs at the sight. She believed she was out of tears but somehow her body still produces more.

They’re eggs. Dragon eggs. Eggs that were destined to belong to her husband and possibly their children afterward.

“Were you serious about at least seven children?” she asked as they laid in bed together. His arm tightens around her and pulls her closer towards him, one of his hands laying on her abdomen where only a short time ago their son had resided.

“I was. But even seven seems to little. Maybe nine?” he answered in all seriousness.

“NINE! Why nine?”

“The dragon has three heads. Six is too little so the next best number is nine,” he took a pause before releasing a sigh. “After we’re gone, I don’t want them to feel alone in the world. I want them to know they have family, lots of it, that will never fail them and will always be there for them,” he explained.

She turned then to face him caressing his bearded cheek.

“Every Targaryen needs a dragon, though,” she told him.

“Don’t worry. I’ll find more eggs out there. I’m sure each of our children will have their own dragon each.”

Their children.

Children, they will never have an opportunity to have. It’s only her and Aemon now, the last of the Targaryen’s.

She picks up one of the eggs, feeling the familiar warmth coming from within and crushes it against her chest. She sobs, mourning for her husband, for the life they will no longer have, and for her son that will never truly know his father’s love.

She’s not sure how long she stays down there but her sorrow eventually transforms into resolve.

Brandon was right, she did know what to do.

She places the back into the crate and with strength, she did not know she possessed, she carries the chest with all the eggs back up and out of the crypts. At the entrance she finds her Hand waiting for her and he quickly moves to take the chest from her.

“Your Grace. It’s time,” Davos says and all she can do is nod numbly.

“Ser Davos, please take that chest and place it on my husband’s pyre,” she orders, voice cold.

“What? Why?” the older man tries to ask.

“Please Ser Davos, don’t ask questions right now, just do as I ask,” she says and thankfully he quickly follows her orders.

She sees Brandon still sitting there in his chair looking at her and she can’t find what to say. But the young man seems to understand and with a subtle nod from him, she turns away and begins to walk to where the funeral pyres had been prepared.

All the dead soldiers spanning from the Freefolk North of the Wall, all the way down to Dorne and across the Narrow Sea, lay in pyres, ready to be burned and laid to rest. Fewer lives were lost this time around, but she can’t find any joy from that fact given that she had lost the one person she cared about the most. As the survivors see her arrive, they bow their heads in respect and watch as she approaches her husband’s personal pyre. She sees the chest at his feet, and she caresses his face one last time.

“I love you,” she says, her voice shaking. “And you will always be my one and only King.”

She kisses his brow and carefully removes his crown before handing it to Davos to save it for the day when Aemon takes the throne.

She walks a few steps away from the pyre, trying to listen to the speech Ser Davos is saying. Some Lords wanted her to speak, seeing as she was the queen, but Ser Davos had graciously stepped forward and reminded them who exactly she had lost.

When the speech ends, she watches as the different leaders of the armies light the pyres until only her husband’s is left. Ser Davos offers her the torch, but she shakes her head. She hears the songs of sorrow coming from both Drogon and Rhaegal and the howling of Ghost at the loss of their father.

The same feeling, she had when Drogo’s pyre ignited so many years ago burns though her and she can’t bear the idea of her love laying on that pyre alone.

As she starts to walk towards the pyre, she feels two different arms stop her.

“Let me go,” she says emotionless.

“No! You are the Queen; Jon wouldn’t want you to do this!” Arya argues with her.

“Your Grace, please think about that little lad down in Kings Landing. He needs his mother,” Davos tries to say.

“He needed his father too,” she says, and she shrugs them both off before walking to the pyre.

Without hesitation she climbs onto the wood, ignoring the protests, shouts of horror and pleading. She lays her head on his chest placing her hand upon where his heart once beat. She closes her eyes and for once in her life, wishes she was not the Unburnt, that she could burn together with him.

Drogon and Rhaegal both land and wrap themselves around the pyre, blocking the view of everyone and making this moment truly private.

And she finally gives them the order.

“Dracarys.”

They are engulfed in flames, she holds on tighter to her husband’s body, the roar of the flames drowning out her sobs.

She soon hears sounds of baby dragons being born and she lifts her head to see six little children, climbing all over her body and Aegon’s, nudging him in an attempt to wake him. They too begin to weep for the loss of their father and their song of sorrow joins that of their older siblings.

One of them, however, climbs onto her husband’s chest and stares directly at this face. The little dragon stretches his wings and roars before breathing onto its father.

A gasping breath comes from her husband before he opens his eyes, sits up and looks directly at her.

“Dany.”

Chapter Text

He expected to be surrounded by the same darkness as when his brothers of the Nights Watch had betrayed them.  But instead, when he opens his eyes he sees the clear blue sky, sun blazing down on him. He moves his hands and realizes that he’s laying on the grass. He breathes in and he smells the salt of the sea and hears the sounds of waves crashing upon the land.

Finally, he decides to sit up and he looks around, recognizing immediately where he is.

Dragonstone…

Lyanna’s Cliff

He feels confused by all of this, knowing that he shouldn’t be here.  But before he can overthink it, he catches sight of two figures sitting on the edge of the cliff, looking out at the sea.

Something inside him knows who they are, especially when both figures have the same colored hair. He stands, taking tentative steps towards them but stopping. Needing a moment to gather himself. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, but before he can continue, he hears the sweetest voice yell out something he only dreamed of hearing.

“PAPA!”

He opens his eyes and only barely manages to get down on a knee to embrace the little girl crashing into him.

“Lya,” he sobs, holding her as tight as he can without hurting her. He pulls away for a moment, needing to look at his child.

She’s just as Dany had described. Her hair matched his own and her soft innocent eyes looked identical to his wife’s. She has some shared features with Aemon as well and he feels his heart clench at the thought of his son. She wears a bright smile on her face and her little hand wipes away the tears running down his cheeks.

“Look at you. You look just like your mama. Just as beautiful as I imagined you would be.”

“Don’t cry Papa,” she says in a song-like voice and that causes more tears to fall as he holds her tightly against him again.

“I’m sorry,” he sobs burying his face in her curls, “I am so sorry my love.”

He feels her little arms hug him.                 

“You shouldn’t be here. You should have been born and been with your mother and me. It’s my fault you’re here alone.”

 His daughter pulls away, a look of confusion on her face.

“But Papa, I’m not alone. You sent Grandma to watch over me,” his little girl says and he recalls that someone else was there with them.  He glances past his daughter and for the first time ever he looks upon the face of his mother.

He stands, wiping his tears and feels Lya giving his hand soft tugs as she leads him towards her namesake. He can’t speak, he even opens his mouth a few times but nothing comes out. His mother doesn’t say anything either as she just looks upon his face, trying to take him in as he tried to do with his daughter.

The statue really did not do her justice. She resembles Arya so much, and he can even pick up on a few features that he must have inherited from her. The more he looks at her however the more he realizes something else.

“You look so much like Rhaegar,” his mother says, confirming what he assumed.

Soon she wraps her arms around him and for the first time ever he feels a mother’s loving embrace.

“My son, my little pup,” she sighs in his embrace and he releases a breath as something that has been missing in his soul is filled. “I love you. I’m so proud of you.”

He sobs again, squeezing his mother tightly. All his life he needed to hear those words, to feel his mother’s love.

“I love you too, mother,” he answers. “Thank you for taking care of Lya,” he whispers.

“Anything for you my pup. At least one of my grandchildren need to know what a grandmother’s love is like.”

A surge of sadness hits him at the realization that there is only one way that he’s able to interact with his mother and his lost daughter and because of that there would be no other grandchildren.

He pulls away.

“I’m dead.”

His mother nods sadly.

He can’t help but start pacing and running his hand through his hair.

“Dany?” he needs to ask.

“Mourning you. She hasn’t eaten or slept since you passed,” his mother answers.

He sighs and shakes his head. Before meeting Dany he was ready to die, to not live past the Long Night, he would have been glad and grateful to be where here. But now he knows what living truly is and knows he has left so much behind.

“You broke your promise,” Lya says in her sweet voice and he stops to looks down at her.

“What?” he asks confused.

“You promised Mama you wouldn’t leave her,” his little one points out.

“Aye I did,” he sighs. “Gods!” he exclaims in anger. “Why now? Why bring me some happiness and take it away! Damn it!”

He lowers himself down to the ground, needing to hit something. He beats the ground until he feels a small hand and a larger one stopping him.  

“I left her. I left them both,” he says looking the grass. “I knew it was a possibility but… gods we had so many plans. I wanted to give her so many more things…”

“Then you know what you have to do,” Lyanna says.

He looks up at both Lyanna’s confusion in his face.

“You have to go back, Papa,” his daughter says as if it were the most obvious and easiest thing to do.

“It doesn’t work that way love,” he answers.

“I want you to be happy,” she insists.

“I’m sure I could be happy here with you and your grandmother,” he says.

“No Papa. You need to go back. I need more brothers and sisters,” she says, and he can’t help but laugh.

“You want more brothers and sisters?” he asks, and she nods. “But I don’t know how to go back love and besides I think I would miss you too much.”

“You’ll see me again Papa! Don’t worry!” Lya assures him and for some reason, he doesn’t question it.

He looks to his mother.

“Can I truly go back?” he asks.

“You can and you know exactly how to do it,” his mother responds.

“Fire and Blood,” he answers.

He stands and hugs his mother tightly.

“I love you, mother, I’ll miss you.”

“We’ll meet again my son, but hopefully this time it will be years from now.”

He nods before turning to Lya, who he picks up and hugs as tightly as he can.

“I love you Lya. Know that your mama and I love you more than anything.”

“I love you too Papa. You’ll see me soon, you’ll see,” she says.

He starts feeling the heat of flames on his skin. He hears chirping that sounds familiar but at the same time not. A blade of dragon glass appears in his hand and he knows what to do. He cuts his hand, the one where the burn he once received was and his blood trickles on the ground.

The heat grows more intense and he smiles one last time at both Lyanna’s.

He gasps in a breath and opens his eyes, seeing flames dancing all around him. He sits up trying not to panic but as he feels a hand on his own peace fills him.

He turns and looks upon his beloved’s face.

“Dany,” he sighs out in relief.

She’s in his arms before he can react and he holds her tightly.

“Aegon,” he feels her sobs.

“I’m here, I’m back my love,” he assures her, knowing it’s what she needs.

“You left me,” she cries.

“I know, but a certain someone sent me back. Told me I had to keep my promise.”

Before his Dany can say anything the chirping returns and he sees six little dragons looking at them.

“What…how?” he tries to ask.

“Later,” she says. “I need…”

And he knows what it is. He kisses her and lowers her onto the pyre, making love to her.

When the pyre burns out they emerge from the ashes, completely naked, six baby dragons clinging to them. As everyone realizes that he has returned and they had both survived the flames and hatched six dragons, one by one the people kneel and with all eight dragons roaring they cement the rule of dragons.

Chapter Text

As he watches his Queen walk onto the pyre and the dragons set it aflame, he has no idea what to do. Part of him wants to rush in there and try to save their living royal but a few of the Dothraki hold both him and Lady Stark.

“Let me go! We have to get her out of there,” the young wolf yells out.

“No Khalessi fine,” one of the Dothraki says in broken common.

But before anyone can say anything else, an injured Ser Jorah steps forward.

“They’re right. One of the Queen’s titles is Unburnt for a reason. She just needs time to mourn,” the older Mormont tells them.

He sighs and resigns himself to just wait. He feels like a failure. He had stayed in Winterfell to keep his King and Queen safe, to make sure they would rule after this war and that the little boy he fell in love with would have both his parents.

But he failed.

He let his anger and need for “justice” cloud him. Instead of looking for his rulers once the dead fell, he went after the Red Woman, trying to make sure she died for what she did to Shireen. He watched her turn to dust just as the sun began to rise and he felt joy at the fact. However, when he heard the dragons’ cries and a horrible, heartbreaking scream from his queen he knew what had occurred.

Now he wishes that Red Woman was alive, that she could once again raise his King from the dead.

But that can’t be. And now his King is burning in a pyre with his wife lying next to him in pure grief.

He loved that lad. He was like another son to him. This King respected him, gave him the highest place a man like him could have, listened to his council and helped people like him. This was the best king the realm could have and now he was gone.

They all stand there, watching the dead burn, no one daring to move away, waiting to see if they would still have a Queen after this.

Suddenly small screeches are heard, confusing them all. But still, nothing seemed to change, except a small smile forming on Brandon Stark’s face.

Sometime later, something did change.

The large dragons sang in joy and moved away from the pyre their mother had climbed onto and their father had been laid to rest. He’s left in shock as he sees not one but two figures standing before the burning fire.

There stood his King and Queen, completely naked, without shame. Both standing with the same regality they always held.

The shock got worse as he once again hears the small screeches and sees six little dragons climbing onto his monarch’s bodies.

True Dragon Lords.

He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it until the cold hits his him, but he is on his knees, showing them his loyalty, awe, and servitude. He glances around him and sees every single person, every Lord and Lady doing the same thing.

The dragons roar in joy, all of them.

“Ser Davos,” he hears the voice of Brandon Stark calls out. “Perhaps our King and Queen need a cloak.”

This sets him into motion quickly removing his cloak and accepting Ser Jorah’s. As he approaches his monarchs, he can see a small grateful smile on his king’s face.

Gods, he’s back. He’s alive. They both are.

Although the Queen’s advisors had assured him that the Queen was going to be fine, he still had some doubts. But seeing them both here in front of him warms his heart.

The King quickly accepts the cloak and covers his wife before taking the other one and covering himself.

“Thank you, Ser Davos,” his queen speaks.

“You… You’re both,” he tries to say something, but he can’t. He has once again been left speechless by these two. “How?”

“Later,” his king answers.

“Your Grace…” he says.

“Later,” Aegon says again and one of the little dragons roars.

His King then picks up his wife and walks towards the castle ignoring everyone’s awe and questions. The Royal Guard follows close behind them. The large dragons fly away.

 He himself walks back to the crowd and everyone’s questions hit him at once.

“Everyone, please calm down. I’m sure our King and Queen will address you all when they are ready,” he announces. “All I know, at the moment, is that the King and Queen emerged from the flames unharmed and with new dragons. Let us continue with the preparations for tonight’s feast, hopefully, they will be ready to address us all by then.”

The Lords and Ladies have no choice but to accept what he says and they all return to their people and campsites.

He looks to the two Stark siblings, one of which has a smug smile on his face while the other has tears in her eyes and being held by Gendry.

“They’re alive,” he sighs in relief.

“They are. The Dragons are truly back, and they will stay for a long time,” Bran says.

“Did you know?” Arya asks her brother.

“I knew it was possible, but only if Aegon wanted to come back. If he wished to stay where he was then his body would have burned,” Bran explains.

“Did the Queen know that?” he asks.

“No. No, she didn’t.”

He sighs. He saw how much his Queen suffered and to know that this hope was not giving to her before climbing into the pyre hurts his heart.

“The dragons?” he asks again.

“I sent her to find the eggs. She knew how to hatch them,” the young man explains.

“What were you all talking about in the Godswood?” Arya asks.  

“That’s something they must tell you. I learned not to share information without their consent.”

He nods at that, knowing full well the part the youngest living Stark had in the fall of his monarchs in their previous life.

One of the Unsullied approaches them.

“The King and Queen wish to speak with you two,” he says pointing to him and to the She-Wolf.  

He nods. The She-Wolf says her goodbyes to the young Lord before together they follow the Unsullied guard. When they arrive and enter their room, he sees them sitting there fully dressed with little dragons climbing all over them and the Direwolf Ghost.

“You two need to have a seat. We have a lot to talk about,” his King says.

Chapter Text

The feast is very different from the one they had in their previous life. Yes, there was sadness for those lost, but the joy for surviving the battle, the resurrection of their King, the emergence of both monarchs from the flames and the birth of six new dragons overcame it. The number of toasts in their names was getting out of hand and both she and her husband had begun to spill their wine to keep their heads.

It had been an interesting conversation in their bedroom. They had given Arya the truth, or at least what she needed to know. There were some details, like Lyanna and Kings Landing, that that they kept to themselves, needing that information to stay with as few as possible.

She feels Aegon’s arm tighten around her waist bringing her back to the present. She smiles at him unable to look away from him for too long. All sense of decorum was ignored tonight, she needed to be as close as possible to her husband and his lap is the closest she could be with her subjects around them.

“I think we should go,” he says and she couldn’t agree more. They stand, receiving one last toast before leaving the hall and making their way to their quarters. As soon as the door closes, she holds him. She needs to feel him in her arms, breathe him in, hear his heartbeat.

Besides their time on the pyre, they had not had a moment to themselves, their duty had been once again put before their own needs. But not now. Now if anyone dared to come to interrupt their time together, she would burn them.

“I love you,” she mutters against his chest. She feels his arms tighten around her and his lips placing a kiss on the crown of her head.

“My love, my life,” he says back.

She sobs, needing to release everything all over again. She feels Aegon slowly guide them to their bed and sits them on it.

“I thought I lost you,” she sobs. “I couldn’t…” she struggles to breathe. “I didn’t have the will to…”

“Shhh,” he says slowly rocking her. “I’m here. Our little girl made sure to send me back.”

She has to look up at him when she hears this.

“What?”

“You were right she was beautiful, Dany.”

She listens to him describe his encounter with his mother and their daughter. She tries her best to hold back her tears, not to miss a single word, but hearing their daughter’s assurance of seeing them again causes her to break down once again.

“Do you think it's possible?” she asks barely above a whisper, afraid to even voice her hope.

“I want to believe so. We have made the impossible happen, Dany. I want to hope that maybe we will, that we’ll actually hold her, give her all the love we have and give her the life she deserves,” he answers just as softly as he sighs. “I want to go home Dany.”

“You are home. You’re at Winterfell,” she points out.

“No. I want to go home,” he insists, before lifting her face to look directly into her eyes. “You, Aemon, the dragons, Ghost,” he lists off, “you all are my home and although I grew up here, down south on Dragonstone and the Red Keep, that’s where we belong.”

He kisses her then and she melts into it. Their kiss begins to build but before she allows it to take over, she stops him.

“When can we go home?” she asks breathlessly.

“Tomorrow,” he answers with no hesitation. “We’ve been away from our little boy long enough.”

“How much do you think he’s changed?”

“Gods, I don’t know,” he answers. “Even when he was here with us he was growing and changing almost day to day, I can’t even imagine how much bigger he will be.”

“I’m ready to have him back in my arms, Aegon. I’ve missed our little dragon,” she admits.

“Tomorrow, we’ll just have to figure out how to carry six dragons with us back to Kings Landing,” he teases and she laughs. That laugh turns into a yawn however and her husband is quick to pick up on it. “Dany, when was the last time you slept?”

She tries to think back. To remember when she rested.

“The day before the battle,” she admits. “After you…” she shudders at the memory, “I lost consciousness, I’m not entirely sure for how long. But since then I haven’t been able to sleep.”

Her King then begins to remove her clothing, saying nothing but letting her know what he wanted, nevertheless. Once she is left only in her undergarments, he follows suit with his own clothing before lifting the covers of their bed and covering them both with them.

“Rest,” he orders. “Tomorrow we’ll let everyone know of our immediate return to Kings Landing and begin our journey south. I can’t have you falling off Drogon from sheer exhaustion.”

She doesn’t have the strength to argue as she curls up into her husband’s side, laying her head on his chest to hear his heartbeat. Her hand travels down his body to where his new scar is, and she gently runs her finger across the cold flesh.

“Does it hurt?” she asks.

“A little. It's mostly the memory,” he admits.

She understands that. Although she does not bear the scar of her previous life, she has, at times, felt the pain from the lethal wound.

They don’t speak again, both content with simply holding each other. She listens to his breath slow and even out, letting her know he had fallen asleep. Before she joins him, she takes a moment thanking all the gods, her daughter and mother by law for sending her husband back and allowing them to be happy together.

The next morning, their Hand is not at all surprised by their decision to return to Kings Landing and he promises them to handle everything at Winterfell. They say their goodbyes and quickly mount onto their dragons, each carrying three baby dragons. Drogon and Rhaegal seemed just as eager as they were to get back to Kings Landing, that sooner than they expected, even with the stops made to rest and eat, they see the capital on the horizon. As they approach, they are joined by Viserion in the skies and she can feel his happiness at seeing all his family safe and sound. The sweet songs of all the dragons fill the air as they arrive at Kings Landing.

She finds Missandei, Olenna, and other Dothraki women, waiting for her as Drogon gently leaves her on her balcony before flying to the Dragon Pit with his youngest siblings. As the women bow, she sees the sadness in their features and the sympathy they are trying to convey. It takes her a moment to realize that while Ser Davos had informed the realm of the result of the war and the fate of her husband, no time was given to inform them of his resurrection or the birth of the dragons.

Missandei is the first to step forward and embrace her.

“I am so sorry,” her closest friend says.

“Don’t be,” she says, pulling away, as a gust of wind lets them know Rhaegal is landing. She hears the gasps from those in the room as her husband descends and walks in. They all immediately bow, trying to compose themselves.

“My King, we thought… the raven,” Missandei starts.

“Hush now, I'm sure their Graces will explain things, what is important is that we have both our beloved King and Queen back and I’m sure they’re eager to see the prince,” Olenna interrupts, looking to them for confirmation, which she gives. “Let’s give them time alone, the prince is in the adjacent room.”

She gives her Hand a thankful nod before everyone leaves the room. She interlocks her arm with her husband as they walk through the door connecting their room to the nursery. A wet nurse is there speaking in Dothraki into the crib, when she sees them, she bows with a smile and quickly leaves.

She has a moment of hesitation, fearing that this might be a dream, that she may wake up and won’t have her son within her grasp and Aegon would not be standing next to her. But with a soft nudge, she’s guided towards the crib. She looks in and sees her little boy looking up at them. He’s bigger, his features have changed a little and his hair is curling more, resembling his father’s but it’s still her beautiful son.

Her heart clenches when she fails to see the instant spark of recognition Aemon's eyes would brighten with whenever he saw them. Instead, she sees uncertainty and a hint of fear in those small grey orbs. Her hands shake as she reaches into the crib to lift him and her heart breaks as his eyes begin to fill with tears as she holds him in her arms.

“Shhh,” she rocks him in her arms. “Don’t cry my love, it’s me, my little dragon,” she coos in High Valyrian.

And she sees it. Maybe it's her voice, her rocking or maybe even her heartbeat, but she sees the spark ignite in her son’s eyes and immediately the tears disappear, and her small babe begins babbling and burying himself deeper into her arms. She kisses her son’s face, breathing in his familiar scent, silent tears of relief and joy falling down her cheeks. She feels two arms wrapping around them both, and she turns to head to see her husband’s face, resting on shoulder and taking in their son as well. As much as she wants to keep her son to herself, she knows Aegon needs to hold their son as well. She takes a step forward, turns around and holds her son towards his father.

He somehow seems just as nervous as she did as he reaches out and takes their son, holding him as if it were the first time and in some ways it was. The same recognition seems to come upon Aemon as he sees his father and starts to babble just as eagerly, seeming to want to tell them everything they had missed. Aegon begins to hum a familiar tune and a memory comes to mind.

 

A softly sung melody wakes her. She feels the boat rocking and hears the waves crashing outside.

She opens her eyes and realizes that she’s alone in the bed, something she does not like, as the cold begins to hit her body.

The soft melody catches her attention again and she searches for the source of it. What she sees fills her heart with joy and awe.

Aegon is standing in his nightclothes by their babe’s crib, rocking him softly while singing a soft song.

She remembers Ser Barristan's words about Rhaegar loving to sing and for a moment she wonders if this is what her brother would have done had he lived to hold Aegon.

She takes a moment just to take in the sight, trying to not disturb the peaceful moment, almost falling asleep to her husband’s soft voice. Their babe, however, had another thing in mind as he begins to get fussy.

“Shhh,” Aegon coos, rocking him softly. “It’s alright my son, papa’s here.”

The babe seems to quiet for a moment, and she watches her husband’s entire body relax and pride radiates from him.

She wanted to give him this. From the moment in the Dragon Pit during their past life, she wanted nothing more than to give him a child. To see him as the father he was truly meant to be. It had broken her heart that, while on this very ship, she believed his seed would never take root in her womb. That this sight was one she was never going to enjoy.

But now she is. And what a sight it was to see the brave Targaryen King who defeated white walkers, executed men, beat Ramsay Bolton and killed the Mountain, holding his child with the gentlest of touches, that never once would you believe he held a blade.

“I love you,” he says softly. “You need to know, your mama and I wanted nothing more than to have you in our arms. We would have given up everything to have you,” she hears a sniffle coming from him. “I messed up… I made mistakes and as soon as we arrive at Winterfell, I will thank the gods for giving me a second chance and giving me you,” she watches him place a kiss on his brow. “You have so many people who will love you, my boy. When Missandei hears the news she’ll be so happy, she’ll teach you all the languages she knows, Ser Jorah will protect you no matter what, the Dothraki will teach you about their culture and horses and they'll love you as their future Khal. Ser Davos will teach you about ships and once your Aunt Arya meets you, I’m sure she’ll make you part of her pack.”

Their son coos and her husband surprisingly giggles. However, that quickly changes as the babe begins to cry again. Aegon seems to panic for a moment before he realizes what he may need.

“It’s alright, let’s see if we can wake Mama, to fill your tummy.”

She sits up grimacing in pain. And she startles him as he turns around to return to their bed.

“You’re awake,” he says over the cries of their child.

“Mhmm,” she groans, opening her gown and receiving their son. The babe doesn’t hesitate to start suckling on her breast and she winces at the sensation. Her handmaidens had assured her that as he fed more it would hurt less but right now it was still uncomfortable.

She feels the bed dip as Aegon climbs in and wraps his arm around her.

“How are you feeling, love?” he asks.

“Sore,” she answers softly, smiling and caressing her son’s cheek. “But happy.”

“Thank you, Dany,” he says kissing the crown of her head. “You’ve made me the happiest man in the world. Thank you for giving me everything.”

 

Even now he does look like the happiest man in the world. She hugs both of her loves resting her head against Aegon’s arm.

“I love you, thank you for giving me everything,” she says to Aegon, who looks at her, “for making me the happiest woman in the world.”

He kisses her then both of them happy to finally be home.

Chapter Text

Ask me again in ten years…”

He had been told that in a different lifetime when everything he had done seemed wrong. And he’s sure if he had lived those ten years, his actions, his mistakes would have still been wrong.

But now everything seemed right.

In this lifetime everything seemed perfect.

Ten years into his reign with his Queen and it is already being referred to as the Golden Age of Westeros. They were loved by the people both high and low. The people had food, homes, and education. They chose their religion, their heirs and their leaders. The Seven Kingdoms were safe, peaceful, and prosperous.

The Reign of Dragons had come again.

But for the reign to continue, dragons needed to continue to exist.

Eleven dragons now flew the skies of Westeros. Flying free throughout the Kingdoms claiming both Dragonstone and Kings Landing as their homes. Upon their return to Kings Landing, they had discovered a nest Viserion had laid a clutch of eggs in. Two of the eggs hatched the other one, unfortunately, did not. Dragons were not slaves, but to keep them relatively peaceful they needed riders and right now, all but one had one.

Eight children.

Eight beautiful princes and princesses to love and cherish. The lights of their lives and reasons for their existence. Everything they ever went through it was worth having every single one of them.

Aemon, their heir, their first living child. The more he grew the more it became evident that he was indeed his father’s son and he would be a great king when the time came.

Rhaella, their second child, their fully Valyrian daughter, his mini-Dany. Born nine moons after his second resurrection, she was his everything. He was weak when it came to all his daughters, unable to tell any of them no, much to Dany’s amusement, but she had a special place in his heart.

Jaehaerys, their third child, was all Stark. Just born three moons short of two years after Rhaella, they named him after the Targaryen king who the North loved in honor of his northern looks.

All three of his oldest children were quickly inseparable and, if Dany’s dreams were anything to go by, will be amazing co-rulers one day.

Two years after his birth they had twin boys with Targaryen hair and Indigo eyes. A few who knew his father mentioned that he had the same shade of eye color as the twins. So, they named one of their sons Rhaegar and the other Daeron, after the Dragon knight he used to pretend to be as a child while playing with his brother Robb.

A year and a half later they welcomed another daughter, a fully Northern beauty. They had considered for a moment naming her after his mother and their lost daughter. But the reminder of the promise he was given stayed in their mind. Instead, she was named Alysanne, after the beloved Queen.

Just like their older siblings, their three middle children were close. The two brothers being completely overprotective of their sister.

Lastly, they had another set of twins named after his siblings Aegon and Rhaenys. They were now closing in on two name days, looking just like Aemon when he was that age hair and eyes matching their oldest sibling.

He loved them all, they both did.

Parenting wasn’t easy, especially seeing as they both lacked those experiences, for no matter how much his uncle tried to treat him as his own there had always been a difference between him and his cousins. However, they quickly learned how to balance both ruling and parenting, always keeping their children first but never neglecting the realm. It was not a rare sight for either of them to be holding an upset child while holding court or his wife feeding one of their children while in a council meeting.

To the people that made them seem more human, less like the untouchable royals that came before and more like themselves. Even though they were born royal their upbringings kept them grounded and they tried their best to instill those things into their children.

Their children were taught humility and honor but also passion and tenacity, learning about both their Targaryen and Stark heritage embracing the good of both Houses and rejecting but learning from the bad. With eight children taking up every moment of their day and filling every corner of their hearts, they believed they were done.

After the twins were born, they had decided to stop. Dany took moon tea every morning and yet, after a trip to their Waterfall, she became pregnant with their ninth child. Although unexpected they were happy.

A red leaf from the young heart trees brings him back to the present.

He’s sitting in the Dragonstone Godswood, Longclaw in his lap, just as Ned Stark used to do in Winterfell. He’s trying to distract himself from the fact that his wife was giving birth to their ninth child. He was kicked out of the room after things had gotten complicated.

Promise me, love. Promise to take care of them.

He shakes his head as his wife’s final words to him ring through his head. He had never felt so much fear than at that moment. Yes, there had been times during her other deliveries that were troubling but never had they feared for her life.

As he sharpens his blade he prays. He prays to the old gods, to the new, to Rhollr himself to save his wife and child. For his children to keep their mother, he has no idea how he could raise all eight without her and they could not bear losing a child either.

He weeps, for how long he doesn’t know.

“Kepa,” a soft little voice calls out.

He quickly wipes his tears and turns to find his sweet Rhaella standing there.

“Rhaella, what are you doing up sweetheart?” he says opening his arms for his child to embrace him. He hugs her tightly as she does the same.

“Is Muña going to be alright?” she whimpers and he places a kiss upon her head.

“Gods willing. She’s the strongest person I know,” he says softly.

“I don’t want to lose mama,” she whispers into his shoulder.

“Shh. You won’t, you'll see,” he tries to reassure them both.

He stands, carrying his little girl back into the castle. He follows the lighted path, walking past all the Unsullied and goes towards their children’s quarters, making sure to stay clear of the room where his wife was giving birth. The Unsullied open the door for him and he walks into the room as quietly as he can, trying his best to not wake any of his other children. He lowers his daughter into her bed, sits on her bed and carefully tucks her in, placing a kiss on her brow.

Her eyes are full of fear and his heart clenches at being unable to make it go away.

He softly sings their lullaby, trying his best to give her some sort of comfort. He eventually watches as her little violet eyes, the same eyes as his wife, close. He carefully stands taking a moment to look around to room and feels a swell of emotion as he looks at all his children. For the night they had all decided to share a room. It didn’t happen often but whenever they were scared or felt their connection calling them to be together all eight of them slept in the same room.

He holds in his tears, not wanting to wake them with his sobs.

This is their legacy, their greatest achievements and no matter what happens tonight he needs to be strong for them all, to make sure they will never face what they did.

The door opens and he sees Missandei standing there. His breath catches, unable to tell what has occurred from their closest advisor’s face. He walks towards the door, his body trembling in anticipation and fear.

“Missandei…” he whimpers out, asking everything in her name alone, trying his best to stay standing.

“The Queen lost a lot of blood, the babe came feet first,” the advisor from Naarth starts and he feels himself go weak, everything starts to go dark. Missandei quickly extends her arms, trying to keep him standing. “They’re both okay my King. They’re both safe,” she quickly assures him.

He still crumbles to the ground, in pure relief. Missandei wraps her arms around him allowing him to let out all his emotions and giving him the comfort, he needs. He tries his best to collect himself quickly, wanting to go see his wife and newborn babe.

“Truly? They’re alright?” he asks, needing to hear it again.

“Yes, they are my king. The Queen is anxiously waiting for you, told me to come get you immediately,” she says.

He stands up, making sure to straighten himself before quickly making his way to their quarters. He’s congratulated by many as he makes his way there but doesn’t stop. He enters the room and hears his wife’s sobs, as she sits on the bed holding a little bundle. The concern comes back as he fears something may have happened to their child while he made his way here. His wife looks up to him and sobs even more, but not from sorrow.

“A…aegon… it's her,” she sputters out.

His heart stops for a moment, trying to understand what she is saying.

“T… truly?” he asks, walking towards them and receiving a nod from his wife. He sits upon their bed and there laying in his wife’s arms is their first and yet final daughter.

“Lyanna,” he sighs.

Somehow the babe seems to recognize his voice and opens her violet eyes to look at him. The door opens of their quarters and he sees all his children standing at the door. With a nod, they all make their way onto their bed surrounding their new sibling. Missandei helps the youngest twins climb onto his lap before leaving them alone.

They all gush about their sibling, taking turns kissing the dark-haired head and simply stare at her.

He takes a moment to look at them all, to look at his entire family.

They are truly complete now. All their children are alive, all their dragons have their riders and each dragon has three heads. He leans in to Dany, placing a kiss on her temple grateful for everything she has given him and for everything they have achieved together.

“I love you,” he says with all his love for his beloved wife.

“I love you too,” she returns.