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damn-stark · 2 years ago

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Chapter 12 Pretty when I cry

Chapter 12 of Sandstorm

A/N- I'M SO EXCITED FOR WHAT'S TO COME!!!

Warning- Sswearing, fluff, incest, violence, ANGST, death!! Dark magic and sacrifice, talks of pregnancy and THERES ALSO CHANGES THAT DRIFT AWAY FROM THE SHOW

Pairing- Jon Snow x Targaryen!fem-reader

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

There’s a ruined Red Keep that you stand in, two cradles stand in the middle. Snow falls through the gaps on the ceiling, this time albeit it’s slow and so life-like, the bitter breeze that swirls the snowflakes on the ground actually feels cold. Once again just before you can see the babies inside their cradles, the fire begins to grow around you, but this time it's flames actually provide heat and slightly blind your eyes.

You expect the dream to end there and then as it always does, but this time the fire lingers, you don’t abruptly wake up, the fire only grows taller almost as if trapping you inside. The heat intensifies, making you turn your head away and shield your eyes. The silence lingers thereafter and the fire's heat doesn’t change anymore, so you slowly turn your head and put your arm down, that’s when you catch a figure in the fire, it grows taller as it gets closer.

This hasn’t happened before, you never stayed this long. This is…different, something new. Is it the meaning behind this dream?

You narrow your eyes out of curiosity even if your heart is beginning to race out of fear. The figure grows taller the closer it gets, and then when it reaches the edge a shadow casts on the ground before an armored metal boot breaks out of the fire wall. Instead of stepping away even if you have nowhere to go, you stay put and watch the rest of the figure walk out of the fire, revealing herself as a slim woman with silver-gold hair; braided and bound in golden rings. Her eyes are an intense and unique pale lilac color that almost seems to burn as hot as that fire as her glare pierced in you. She shouldn't be unfamiliar but you do recognize her now as the fires light basks her intense majestic face.

It’s Queen Visenya Targaryen.

She is your namesake.

What is she doing here? In this dream? This isn’t an answer, it's only more confusion.

Yet before you can grow mad with confusion, from the corner of your eye you catch another figure emerging from the firewall at your right side. this time it’s a man, a very tall man with a thick and broad appearance, he’s built like a bull. His hair is blond, and his eyes are a deeper lilac. His gaze is as intense as the Queens, but he looks even more intimidating. And just like before, you recognize him too, he’s King Maegor Targaryen.

But why?

“What’s going on?” You ask the pair, the mother and the son.

But there’s no answer, instead a third person appears this time from your left side. It’s a woman, she’s older than the others, slimmer than Queen Visenya, she has a fair complexion and a high forehead. Her eyes aren’t the same color as the others, they’re blue. And like the others there is a name that comes to mind, Queen Alysanne Targaryen.

“What’s—” this time you don’t finish your repeated question because another figure emerges from the fire between Visenya and Alysanne, it’s smaller and the moment their face shows your face falls with disbelief and your eyes fill with tears, and your heart….that shattered thing begins to fill with joy and warmth.

“Rhaenar?” Your voice quivers.

He moves his arm away from his brown eyes and finds you in the middle of the fire circle, and instantly smiles. “Mother!” He exclaims, and before you knew it you were both running towards each other to meet with a tight embrace.

“Oh my sweet boy,” you cry and hold onto him, you draw in a deep breath and take in his scent. “My Rhaenar.” Your breath shudders.

The boy laughs softly and holds onto your neck with force.

“I’m sorry,” you interject and pull back to grab his cheeks and face him, now you notice that his face isn’t burnt, his face is okay here. His curls are so neatly formed and all over his face. “I’m sorry. I failed you, I’m so sorry.”

Rhaenar wipes your tears away and shakes his head with a sweet smile on his face. “It’s alright mother. I’m okay, I’ll be fine. Don’t cry please. I’ll always be with you.”

You shake your head and now grab onto his shoulders. “No. No I’m not ready to be without you, I need you with me in real life. Not here, not in my dreams.”

Rhaenar draws out a deep breath. “They’re not dreams really.” He scoffs. “It’s all real in a way. This place, it’s just been different for everyone, but for you, grandfather says it’s different, you’re the only one who’s seeked far enough to reach all of us. This plane.”

Your eyes narrow slightly, and your eyebrows furrow in comfuson. But the first thing you question is what he mentioned moments ago. “Grandfather?”

Rhaenar’s grin widens. “I’m not alone here mother, I have so many people here, family. But most importantly my grandfather! He’s been with me the entire time.” He nods and then looks back, when you follow his line of gaze you see the man he speaks about with so much glee, Rhaegar Targaryen, your father. He emerges from the fire too, with his long silver-gold hair, his deep blue eyes, and a faint smile on his pale face.

His presence fills you with nostalgia, familiarity, and there is a spark of joy, but that soon gets overpowered by the anger, burning fury.

“I know,” he says in that voice you’ve missed hearing sing to you. “I know you’re upset my girl, but—”

“No!” You cut him off and stand up to your feet to stride towards him. “No! You!” You sneer and point at him. “It’s your fault! It’s your fault I grew up without my mother, it’s your fault my sister and brother died!” You reach him and shove him back with that same anger. “It’s all your fault this all happened to us! To our family! You left me! You left us! You left! How could you do that?!”

Your father ducks his head out of shame and swallows thickly. “I will never forgive myself for what happened to your mother and your siblings, but it’s something I won’t regret.”

You scoff and step back.

“It had to be done. To complete the prophecy. Which it has, Jon, Daenerys, you.” He lifts his head and meets your gaze with awe. “Three heads to our dragon, my darling. We did it.”

You clench your jaw and shake your head. “At what cost?” You snap at him. “My son is gone. He’s dead! Daenerys killed him! He was only 10!” You rebuttal. “It’s true the dead are gone and I’m glad that they are, but nothing else matters anymore because so is he. So I ask what now?”

“Now you rule,” a different voice cuts in. When you snap your eyes to where it comes from you notice that it was Queen Visenya. “You will revive the Targaryen dynasty. You will take back what your father destroyed.”

You swallow thickly and rebuttal. “Daenerys rules now. Isn’t that enough? I can’t lose more, Jon, my children that have yet to be born.”

Footsteps step forward from your left side and a sweeter but still rather stern voice speaks. “You stay there in Winterfell and you’ll die too. Your children will always be a threat to her, will you see them die too?”

You snap your eyes to the left and meet Queen Alysanne’s gaze with a glare. “Like hell. I won’t lose them. But you have her, let her rule, it’s not like our family hasn’t killed their own kin before, why not her? Why me?”

“Because she killed your son,” a different voice adds from the fire.

You look towards the flames again and see a different women come out from within them, this woman had a thicker waist compared to the other two, her silver-gold hair was in a long braid as well. She was ethereal as all the others, but also intensity followed within her gaze. You knew her too, a lot quicker than the others, after all she was one of your favorites, that is before she actually ruled; Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen.

“Because you are the one meant to restore our glory, rule like we couldn’t,” she says and begins to approach you. “If she rules, she’ll commit the same mistakes and wipe out the Targaryen name. It’s you who is meant to sit on that throne, your children shall follow, the ice and fire that our prophecy foretold. I know,” she mutters softer now. “What it is like to lose a son…but you aren’t me, use your anger, use your power, use your kindness and take what belongs to you, for your son. For all of us.”

You let out a shaky sigh, but don’t let anymore tears fall now since you’re beginning to be filled with inspiration and anger once again at the memory of what Daenerys did.

“You have a good heart my dear,” your father interjects, pulling your attention to him again. “Use it, be noble, don’t lose what you already have. Those you keep close will carry you through this, but remember to be firm, fearless, stern and unforgiving to those who truly deserve it.”

You sigh but nod. You then look at Rhaenar, but before you can speak your last words to him, a deep husky voice cuts in from your right.

“Don’t be like your father, girl,” Maegor says and begins to walk around you, as if he’s stalking you, a prey. “Don’t be foolish, and don’t live in the clouds,” he scoffs and shoots your father a dirty glare. “Use your fury, your dragon is your best friend, use your strength and power. Take care of business like me.” He stops by his mother and shoots you a malicious smirk before he looks at his mother with a smirk. “Burn her. Burn Daenerys Targaryen.”

You offer him a nod and shoot him a faint smirk before you face Rhaenar one more time. “I will always, always love you my sweet boy. I’m sorry.”

Rhaenar smiles at you and wipes away that stray tear that falls from your eye. “I love you too, mama. Tell Jon that it’s okay, that I’ll be okay, yes?”

You grin and nod. “Of course.”

He then throws his arms around you and you don’t hesitate to hug him back with all your might. You don’t close your eyes in hopes you’d stay, and it’s why you notice Queen Visenya approaching you one last time. She meets your watery gaze with an intense and burning determined glare.

“Burn your dead, mourn your losses. You are Queen now.” She mutters before the darkness quickly surrounds you at one second before you’re thrown back to the cruel reality, back to your room, back to the coldness.

At least the sun is out today, it’s light is soft but not warm since it is still dawn. It should’ve provided an ounce of happiness, but the natural light finally breaking from the clutches of the winter clouds doesn’t affect you now.

You sigh deeply and wipe your tears away before you look at the bed and find the spot next to you empty, and when you touch it you notice it’s cold, letting you know that Jon has been gone for a while. And since he is your only source of motivation to keep going right now you get up and change to go look for him.

Yet when you reach the crypts he’s not there. You walk to the gates since maybe he’s out with Rhaegal, yet you don’t want to walk all the way over to hills where the dragons are if he isn’t, so you look up and speak to the guards at their post. “Excuse me?!”

A man reaches the rail and looks down. “Princess,” he calls out in surprises and straightens up.

“Has Lord Snow passed the gates?” You ask.

The guard shakes his head. “No, but I did seem him walk towards the Godswood earlier today.”

You hum and nod. “Thank you, sir.”

The guard nods, and you then head towards the Godswood. When you arrive you see the new planted trees begin to sprout where the ashes of the olds ones once stood, leaving a clear view of all the Godswood, and Jon kneeled at the front of the Heart tree.

As to not interrupt his moment of prayer you make sure to slowly approach him, but stop by the frozen lake that’s by the red leaved tree.

Nevertheless, Jon hears your footsteps and turns around. When he notices it’s you his gaze softens for a moment before the sadness on his dark eyes returns.

“Good morrow,” he greets.

You offer a small smile. “Good morrow,” you return and meet him in the middle of the snow covered field. “I’m sorry I interrupted.”

Jon takes your hands and shakes his head. “I was…done already. What are you doing out here? It’s cold.” He touches your belly and smiles. “Are they giving you fuss?”

You grin and shrug. “Always, but that’s not what got me to awake up.”

Jon lips pull to a bigger smile and he scoffs softly before he drops his gaze and stares at the snow below his feet with a deep sorrowful frown that makes your sadness return, and brews curiosity.

“What is it?” You probe.

Jon lets out a deep sigh and then meets your gaze with a watery look. “I asked for forgiveness from the gods, but it’s you that I truly need to apologize to.”

You slowly knit your brows together in confusion.

“Please,” he continues with tears escaping out of his eyes. “Forgive me. I’m the reason your son is dead. I didn’t reach him in time, I didn’t get rid of the men fast enough. I’m sorry.” Jon drops to his knees and keeps holding your gaze. “I can never make up for what you lost. I’m sorry.”

Tears threaten to come out of your eyes, but you hold them back and just feel your throat sting more as you slowly get on your knees, and cup his cheeks. “What happened is not a guilt you need to carry on your shoulders Jon...” you pause and swallow back thickly. “My life will never be the same without my boy. It is true, but don’t blame yourself. He’s okay.” You muster a soft smile. “He appeared in my dreams, he said he was okay, he told me to tell you that it’s okay.”

Jon slowly grows perplexed, but he knows better now so he accepts what you say is true. “But you—”

“I’ll…heal soon, but I do know that I have nothing to forgive because I don’t blame you, nor should you blame yourself. Please.”

Jon hesitates, so you press your forehead against his and whisper.

“It’s okay, my love. It is. I need you for what’s to come.”

Jon lets out a shaky breath, and then slowly cups your cheeks and keeps his forehead pressed against yours as he stays silent. You know he won’t doubt you, or try to discourage your new plan so you don’t explain what’s on your mind, you linger in the silence and relish in the warmth that radiates from his hands, from his lips, and from his body.

You don’t linger long though since it is cold and the funeral is today. Since you don’t have the stomach to eat so much breakfast is quick, it’s the getting ready that takes time. It’s not easy for you, no matter if you did see Rhaenar in a dream, to get ready for his…funeral, to mentally get ready to say goodbye one more time. But you still do it, you let the handmaidens dress you in a white dress that is dipped in red at the bottom, so the white-beige color flows to a blood red. You let them put on light makeup and fix your silver-white hair, you put on your gold jewelry, and then before you walk out of your chambers you grab Helios from his cage.

His eyes search the room for the boy he was once bonded to, he calls out for him in soft cries that only smash those heart fragments to smaller pieces. And there’s nothing you can tell him to comfort him. Absolutely nothing because you know he also knows deep within his little heart.

“Come on,” you whisper to Helios. “Let’s go.”

Once you step out Jon is waiting outside of your shared quarters, he holds your gaze for a moment before he takes your hand to interlace it with his before you begin walking outside, past the gates, to the top of a snowy hill. People begin to part once they see you approach, the Starks and your sisters then break away from their spots behind the crowd and follow you towards the funeral pyre where Rhaenar’s body lays wrapped in a white shroud.

Time moved normally before you walked through the crowd, but once you begin to walk past the people gathered to reach the pyre time began to move slowly as your mind still tries to comprehend that this is all real. That you’re going to say goodbye to your boy forever.

Tears even fail to fall at those moments you walk forward, even when you reach him your tears don’t break out from your eyes, no. Even if your heart sinks and a shaky breath escapes from your chest, you don’t cry. Instead you let Jon’s hand go and place Helios on Rhaenar’s chest one more time.

The dragon knows, he knew the moment Rhaenar drew his last breath that he was gone and they’d never see each other again. But the dragon like you held onto hope. It’s why Helios crawled to Rhaenar’s neck and sniffed him before he began to nudge his jaw so he’d wake up.

You knew you were being foolish, but you waited for a response. When it doesn’t come and Helios lets out a broken whine, is when you can’t hold back anymore and let a sob escape from your mouth.

Eraxis feeling your sorrow, cries out and fills the silent air with her melancholy song. Helios follows and sings about his own grief, and Rhaegal then joins them too and all three dragons fill the winter air with their sorrow filled songs.

You then drop your forehead on Rhaenar’s and clutch onto his shoulders, you cry and cry until you can’t breathe properly, until you can’t even stand. That’s when Eraxis leans her head forward and tries to wrap her neck around you for comfort and support. It startles some people from the crowd, after all, all they knew about dragons was that they’re fierce, not that they were also comforting and filled with many complex emotions. It got those who weren’t crying already, to shed tears for a boy they hardly knew.

And it was thanks to your dragon's comfort that you were ready, so you scoop up Helios, and as Eraxis raises her head in the sky you turn and walk down the pyre to hand Arya the orange dragon. “It’s okay,” you assure her. “He won’t harm you.”

Arya pulls the dragon back towards her and holds him fearlessly and with slight pride. Now, as you face Rhaenar again, you take Jon’s hand again and lift your chin to sniffle before you part your lips. Yet you can’t muster the word, only sobs.

“It’s okay,” Jon whispers and begins to rub your back. “Take your time.”

Your bottom lip wobbles, and your chest begins to feel tighter and heavier to the point you can’t breathe anymore, you turn to Jon and bury your face in his chest. He quickly wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head as he caresses your back softly.

“May he soar the skies in paradise,” Jon interjects. “May he rest and find peace, may he watch over his family. I’m sorry Rhaenar…”

A moment longer passes before you can face the pyre, before you can part your lips and mutter out the right words that tore at your heart. “Dracarys.”

The white dragon draws in a deep breath before she opens her mouth and breathes out fire, bathing the pyre and Rhaenar in her hot and bright red-orange flames.

You stand there in front of the fire, you bask in its heat and let more tears fall out before the anger returns, before that burning fury begins to boil your blood again, bringing back that dream you just had and everything that was said, especially those venomous words spoken by Maegor; “Burn her. Burn Daenerys Targaryen.”

You won’t hold onto hope for your rekindling anymore, you won’t ask for forgiveness. You’ll seek revenge and what truly belongs to you.

Which is why you slowly turn and face the crowd still gathered in front of the pyre. You meet the gaze of Jon before you face them all with a scowl. “I was asked to fight for the throne by all of you,” you interject loud enough so they can all hear. “I declined out of hope, and a dream that I would know a peaceful life and receive Daenerys forgiveness for my future, for the future I carry within me. But now, after she took what I held so dear in my heart, my first born. Now she will know my wrath, and I hope you all can follow me in my path to the throne. It will be another war, devastating no doubt, but once it is done we will finally know peace because she is just like those that came before her, a tyrant lost in her way.” You sigh, but muster a malicious smirk.

“I hope you all follow me. For my son, for you, for me.” You finish.

And thus, without hesitation the crowd begins to cheer, shouting out only one phrase. “Queen Y/N!”

——

*DAENERYS. KING’S LANDING*

A knock raps on her door, echoing in the tense silence that filled her quarters.

“Come in,” she welcomes the visitor, hoping it was successful news of the ambush. Waiting for the news has been keeping her on edge, she could hardly sleep, or keep in one place, she needed to know.

“My Queen,” a familiar voice she hasn’t heard in a long time cuts through the silence.

Daenerys turns quickly on her heels and comes face to face with Daario Naharis, a man she had left long ago in Meereen to enforce peace, a man who’s appearance hasn’t changed, and someone who she can’t deny is happy to see. After all he is one of few who hasn’t betrayed her, he’s remained loyal even after she broke his heart.

“Why wasn’t I advised you arrived?” She responds with a quirked brow and a faint smirk playing on her lips as he doesn’t fail to make her body ignite with lust.

Daario smirks wider and pulls his hand from behind him to show her the wildflowers he held in his hand. “I came on a faster ship apart from the others because I wanted to surprise you.”

Daenerys hums and watches the man slowly begin to approach her.

“I’ve brought these,” he says and pushes the flowers towards her.

Daenerys breaks away from her spot to slowly walk towards him, stopping just before she can reach him to let him get close to her instead. He offers her the flowers and she hesitantly takes them from his hand to then raise her chin and hold his warm gaze.

“I would just like to say that you look even more beautiful than before,” he adds. “The crown suits you.”

Daenerys places the flowers down on the table beside her and crosses her arms over chest to now press him with her gaze alone.

“Ah,” he says and clasps his hand behind him. “Right. The ambush happened, yet I’m disappointed to say that Lord Snow managed to escape with a couple of his men. The ship burned, most of his men aboard died, and a boy traveling with them perished in the fire.”

Daenerys blinks and furrows her eyebrows. “A boy?” She queries.

Daario nods. “Yes, I’m not sure who, but Lord Snow made great effort to take his body.”

Daenerys lips slowly begin to fall, and her arms slowly unfold from her chest as a name begins to circle her mind.

“Were there dragons in the sky?” She asks him with her gaze begining to narrow.

Daario nods. “Yes. The creatures burned our ship and helped them escape. There was three of them, a white one, Rhaegal, and a small orange one.”

Daenerys swallows thickly and turns around abruptly to look out at the gloomy white sky, and sighs deeply as sorrow begins to stab at her heart and pain fills her mind.

“What is it?” Daario instantly asks and takes a step towards her.

“Wheres Greyworm?” She avoids his question.

“I let him take a second break so I could deliver the news to you personally.”

Such a radiant boy he was, young prince Rhaenar. Regardless of the tension that existed towards the end of the relationship between you and Daenerys, he never was rude to her, he was kind and caring. No matter how short of time she had with the boy, she still cared for him because he was family, and now he’s gone and you're heartbroken.

And she can’t cling onto the hope that the dead boy is someone else, why else would Jon be so desperate to the take the body, why else would Helios be with Jon. Helios is a small dragon still very much attached to who he’s bound to, that dead boy is Rhaenar.

“That boy who perished,” Daenerys mutters and approaches her window with tears clouding her eyes. “Was the son of my niece. It was y/n’s son. How did it come to be? I said just kill Jon and the men he was with.” She stops and exhales deeply before she turns to face him.

Daario stays in his spot and shrugs. “I can’t be certain. You know how battles are? Unpredictable. All I know is that a fire started on the ship. It was an accident.”

Daenerys scoffs and shakes her head. “She won’t see it that way. No one on her side will. If she was ready to make peace before, now we can forget about that, especially with Sansa whispering in her ear.” Daenerys clasps her hands in front of her and drops her head.

“You sit on the throne now,” Daario interjects and steps forward. “They’ll follow you.”

Daenerys snaps her head up to face him. “No,” she snaps. “They won’t. The Reach will rally behind her because of what she gave them, and the future commitment that once bonded them. We can’t even count or try and sway Dorne, even dead they’ll never follow another king or queen that isn’t her or descended from her bloodline.” Daenerys turns and approaches the balcony to gaze out at the city below.

“The Vale of Arryn will follow her because of Sansa, meaning the North is also supporting her,” Daenerys continues to tell Daario. “And the Riverlands…they’ll follow the Starks, making for Five great houses rallying behind her, leaving us with two, the Westerlands if I keep Tyrion alive, and the Stormlands...” she pauses and sighs deeply. “That is if I make our commitment periment with a marriage proposal to the new Warden.”

“And so you shall have it,” he assures her with no argument, and finally closes the gap between them to grab her shoulder and turn her to face him. “You have a fleet, more men. And a dragon experienced in war. You can win this, you only lose if you give up, and I know you’ll fight with fire and blood before that happens.”

Daenerys holds his gaze and hums, feeling relieved that she once again had someone she can trust and talk to.

“We’ll get to work right away, fortifying the walls, whipping the men to shape, and making alliances.” Daarios continues to assure her. “No one will take that throne from you.”

——

*WINTERFELL*

Jon’s voice echoes out from the hall, his words are passionate you know they are because he gives good speeches, but right now his words just don’t register in your mind, all that you can think about is Rhaenar, the new future that you are now paving with this choice. Anger still fuels you and it's what’s pushing you, whilst that motivation after seeing your father and ancestors burns in your veins, waking up something that was dorement before, determination to take what’s yours once and for all.

It’s why you don’t frown, you don’t express sadness in your eyes either as Dornish guards make a path and line up across from each other all the way to the end of the hall where Jon, and the maester awaits with your crown. It’s that burning determination, and that grief that brings you pride as you stand at the end of the lined up guards, with your head up high.

Horns begin to play inside after Jon finishes his speech, letting you finally break away from your spot and create a footprint on the sheet of snow as you begin to stride ahead in between the guards.

The blades they hold above your head begin to fall when you pass them, leaving them to see only your back and the tail of your red dress. When you step inside the warm hall, slowly the people viewing your coronation kneel as you walk past them.

Being here was something you never dreamed about, at least you always thought you’d stand on the platform waiting for your husband to get crowned. Now that you’re here though, now that you see all the people kneel, as you see the guards metal blades glistening against the firelight, you can’t help but smile inside. And the moment you take Jon’s hand as you reach the platform a faint smile finally forms on your lips.

Jon mirrors your gesture and then leans forward to press a kiss on your cheek before he shifts to the side and helps you to your knees. Once you’re secured he moves to the side and lets the maester step forward.

“May the Warrior give her courage,” his voice booms throughout the hall before he daps oil on your forehead. “May the Smith lend strength to her sword and shield,” he continues and adds more oil on your forehead with each saying. “May the Father defend her in her need. May the Crone lift her shining lamp and light her way to wisdom.” With that last saying instead of oil he dabs blood on your forehead by your request as a sign of your goals, battles to come, and revenge.

When the maester finishes he turns to set the bowls down to instead grab a golden crown forged partly by the gold jewelry that Rhaenar owned so you’ll always carry him with you through this journey as Queen. The maester then turns with the shining gold crown in hand, causing the red shining rubies that are decorated around the crown to twinkle against the firelight. As he lifts the crown you see two small winged dragons holding the red ruby at the center. The moment he places the crown on your head you feel the heavy weight fall on your head, bringing some discomfort.

“Let the Seven bear witness, Visenya Targaryen second of her name is the true heir to the iron Throne,” the Maester adds, causing the crowd behind you to quietly agree.

After that is over Jon leans over and offers his hand, you gladly take it and let him help you to your feet. He then quickly lets you go and kneels before you. It catches you off guard for a second, but you have to remember that you are Queen now and it’s going to happen more often.

Alas, Jon then stands up and drifts his gaze to the crowd. “All hail her grace!” He exclaims. “Visenya, second of her name, Queen of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the realm!”

You draw out a small breath and turn, catching the crowd and the guards kneel. You drift your gaze to the right front row and see Elia and Sarella kneel, Sansa curtsy whilst Arya kneels too. You then look to the left front row and see Ser Jaime kneel, Ser Brienne and her ward kneel, Ser Davos takes goes down too, and then as on cue, Eraxis fills the silence and air with her prideful roar, making you finally smirk.

“Long live the Queen!” Elia is the first to exclaim.

“Long live the Queen!” Ser Jaime follows before everyone inside repeats those words as they get up and clap.

Those who carry swords lift their blades in the air and shout. “Queen Y/N!”

Those words fill your ears and bring happy tears to your eyes as you tug your lips to a smile. When you sit on the wooden chair that was placed on the platform more people cheer, and Ser Brienne approaches the stairs that lead to the platform. She gets on one knee and meets your gaze.

You throw your hand out to silence the crowd, and they don’t fail to listen, letting Ser Brienne speak.

“I swear toward the Queen,” she interjects in a loud confident voice. “With all my strength, and give my blood for hers. I shall take no husband, hold no lands, mother no children. I shall guard her secrets, obey her commands, ride at her side and defend her name and honor.”

Chills travel down your spine, and a soft smile tugs on your lips. You rise up again and bow your head, letting her stand.

“I appreciate your loyalty and devotion, Ser Brienne. I’d trust no one else but you to be my Lord Commander of the Queensguard.”

Ser Brienne breath draws in a small breath and can’t help her proud smile at the mention of the title you just bestowed upon her.

“I leave it to your judgment to choose the other six who should join the Queensgard. When you have chosen the right people you may bring them to me.” You let her know.

Ser Brienne nods in comprehension and stands back up to return to her spot, leaving you to address the crowd to give them an announcement. “Every ruler needs their most trusted advisor at their side, a friend to confide in. A hand when one’s pair is full. Someone who is not afraid to hide their thoughts or pass judgment. There are many here that I trust to be that with me, but there’s one person who I know won’t fail me, Lady Sansa Stark.”

It was a choice that you had discussed before, and one she took with the condition that when this war is over, and if it is you who sits on the throne then she would step down to be Warden and Lady of the North.

“Lady Sansa, I name you hand of the Queen.” You finish saying, making said person head to the front to kneel. You then turn and grab the pin from Jon to walk towards his sister and hook the golden pin on her chest.

The crowd makes commotion in support of the choice.

“You honor me, Queen Y/N,” Sansa says and stands back on her feet.

You offer her a smile and watch her return to her spot so you can continue to announce to the people who else will be a part of your court. “Now with these battles to come I trust no one else to be my Master of War but my dear husband, and your King Consort, Jon snow.”

At the announcement of both new titles the crowd cheers for Jon, while you look over at him and grin. He breaks away from his spot to stand before you and bow his head. Your smile widens, and you’re filled with glee as you get to finally reveal your gift.

“Arya,” you call out and meet her dark gaze. “If you may please.”

Jon looks back at his sister in confusion and follows her every move as she makes her way to you. You fill with more joy and excitement as she reaches into her sack and pulls out a silver crown that looks similar to yours, but is a bit thinner, and has a golden dragon and a golden wolf holding a ruby at the center.

“Now,” you continue and take the crown from Arya. “I know that you aren’t one to be so flashy, and you’d be content without one, but it is gift from me to you.”

Jon holds your gaze and sighs softly, but he can’t help his faint smile before he kneels, letting you carefully place the crown on his head.

“There,” you say and clasps your hands before you. “Handsome.”

Jon scoffs softly and then stands back up to fall back at your side, letting you continue so you can finally finish and announce your master of whisperers, Bran Stark of course, and lastly your Master of coin Lord Ben Ashfords son, the heir of the Reach, Bernard Ashford. As to the other positions well, you still have yet to fill. Hopefully you’ll get to find the right people soon.

With that said you turn away and head to a different chamber where you will have your first small council meeting that consists of your sisters, Jon, Ser Brienne, Sansa and her siblings, and Ser Jaime.

“You know you did not have to get me this,” Jon breaks his silence as he walks by your side to the meeting quarters. “This crown is not necessary.”

You glance at him and smile. “You are my King Consort, my love, a King needs his crown.”

“I would’ve been fine with a ring,” he counters, making you giggle for the first time since Rhaenar passed.

“I told you,” you retort and hook your arm around his. “It’s a gift. You don’t need to wear it all the time, I just wanted you to have one.”

Jon meets your gaze and hums softly before his gaze softens. “You need to rest, you’ve been on your feet for far too long.”

You roll your head to the side and draw out a deep breath. “Yes, perhaps I should, but there are meetings to be had now. You know this isn’t easy. But for your comfort after this meeting is over we can retreat to our chambers and take a warm bath together, hm?”

Jon nods softly in agreement. “Sounds like a plan,” he assures you. “Not like I could actually refuse you now. You are the Queen.”

You scoff and shake your head. “Don’t start with me Jon.” You chuckle softly, causing Jon to watch you with a soft and admiring gaze and smile since he likes the look of your smile and the sound of your laugh after seeing how much you’ve been suffering.

Yet it is short lived since that sweet look on your face fades away, and gets replaced by a sad confident look when you all enter the meeting quarters.

Now the burden falls on you, after so much that your family did to try and get you on that throne, and after trying to avoid the burden, you wear the crown now and lead thousands. Now rather than listening on the sidelines you sit at the center and have all eyes on you.

“Thank you all for coming,” you address the group as they find their seats around the table. “You’ll have to pardon me for the next couple of meetings. As much as I have studied I still am not used to ruling,” you huff softly and clasps your hands together.

The people around the table don’t say anything to you so let out a deep sigh and continue.

“Let’s get to business then. I know not so long ago I turned down Ser Jaime’s requests of retrieving his brother from the clutches of Daenerys, but now with the sides being drawn, the Westerlands are left undecided. The Lannister’s may not be a strong house, but their name still holds much value, having both men at our side can benefit us. So,” you say and look at Jaime sitting in the middle.

“Ser Jaime, I grant your leave. You won’t have men though, it will attract too much unwanted attention.”

Ser Jaime’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, and you begin to smirk. “Sarella,” you name, causing the woman to straighten up. “Arya, you are clever, discreet and able to hide well. Will you accompany Ser Jaime to smuggle his brother out?”

Sarella without a fault nods. “Of course, sister.” She assures you, letting you shift your gaze to Arya. And when your eyes land on her a small smirk tugs on her lips.

“I will,” Arya agrees. “Thank you, Queen y/n.”

You offer her a smile and a small nod.

“Excuse me, your Grace,” Lord Royce cuts in. “The plan is great and all, the Westerlands may not be the largest land, but they are the richest. It will benefit us well, but with sides set, and Daenerys with a patch of new soldiers, entering the city will be difficult.”

You nod and can’t help your smirk from widening. “Yes. I know. It’s why while the three of them enter the Red Keep, I will lead a distraction.”

The members of the council all share confused and concerned looks at the mention so you explain your plan, and assure their worry. “It won’t be a big army, there won’t even be men, the distraction will consist of only women. I unfortunately won’t join the battle at the ground, I cannot,” you scoff and reach down to caress your swollen belly. “I’ll be in the skies with Jon, while the women go in pretending to seek refuge and help from Daenerys. Her army will come out and provide assistance, they won’t suspect such brutal attacks from women,” you begin to smirk smugly. “They’ll think of them as weak, fragile. That’s when the army women will strike, I will go in later and burn what remains of the small army. After that Jon and I will lead them out before more men can come.”

“If it pleases your grace,” Ser Brienne interjects as she takes a step forward so you can see her. “I would like to lead the attack on the ground in your stead.”

You catch the disbelieved stare of Lord Royce, but you have faith in her; just because she isn’t like every other typical woman doesn’t mean a thing. It’s sad that men here don’t see such a thing.

“Of course you can, Ser Brienne, the army will consist of Dornish women warriors and northern women who volunteer. Any other woman from the other armies of different houses can also join if they please, but we need to keep the numbers small.”

“Understood,” Ser Brienne agrees.

You drift your gaze back to the other members. “We will make that our first attack after the lords pledge their loyalty. With that said, Sansa, what can we expect from the Riverlands?”

Sansa raises her head and parts her lips. “My mother was a Tully. Our uncle still lives and rules now in my grandfathers stead. I expect we will gain their allegiance, but I think we should still go in person and ask.”

You nod. “Alright. We can go after our first attack, that way Daenerys doesn’t get word of our attempts until after. What about the Stormlands?”

“Given Daenerys gave the Stormlands to Gendry and declared him a legitimate Baratheon,” Jon interjects. “I doubt we can count on his allegiance.”

“But the boy doesn’t know a thing about ruling a kingdom or people,” Jaime argues. “Nor does he have the right connections.”

“But he has the Baratheon name now, he may be a bastard but some people will follow his family name,” Ser Davos defends the man. “Surely the staff at the castle would help.”

“I assume not long, any lord could usurp him,” Jaime counters. “We can use that to our advantage.”

“Aye,” Lord Royce agrees.

You look over at Sansa and ask her a question. “Could we send an envoy to any of the other lords?”

Sansa sighs. “We could, but we have to think about the risks, if Gendry bends the knee it would benefit Daenerys to strengthen the alliance with a marriage. She’d burn any rebellion attempts. We have other kingdoms that take priority if it comes down to a battle .”

“We could get rid of Lord Gendry,” you suggest. “That breaks the alliance—but also turns the Stormlands against us.”

“Then we leave them,” Jon adds. “As far as resources, it’s only fighters they provide. We have the numbers, we don’t need them. If a lord reaches out to us then we can think of a plan, until then we count them as traitors.”

“Anyone disagree?” You ask without trying to argue Jon’s suggestion.

The people around the table shake their heads in disagreement, letting you continue on. “ Bran, do you know anything?” You ask the quiet boy.

Bran nods stiffly. “Only confirmation that Daenerys plans to marry Lord Gendry. As soon as he arrives at the capital.”

Just as Sansa mentioned.

“Smart girl,” you comment. “With the Stormlands off the table, we also can’t count on the Iron Islands. With luck we will gain the Westerlands and the Riverlands.” You let out a small breath and then continue. “Anything else someone would like to discuss?”

Everyone looks around, but no one adds anything, thankfully leading this meeting to an end for today.

“Alright, well you all are dismissed, thank you for attending.”

Everyone disperses out of the room, and you wait for them all to leave before you can. However, Ser Brienne, Ser Jaime, Jon and your sisters linger behind.

“Excuse me, your Grace,” Brienne directs and bows her head as she addresses you. “But is it okay if I take my leave for today? I would like to start finding the other members for the Queensguard.”

Right that.

“Of course uh, Sarella, Elia,” you call out. “May you introduce Ser Brienne to some of the commanding officers of the Dornish army. There are some great fighters there you can choose from.”

“Yes!” Elia exclaims all too excitedly. “I would love to go.”

Of course she would, she likes to gawk and flirt with the men.

Regardless, they leave but Ser Jaime stays behind still. He takes a moment before he says anything, first he slowly makes his way towards your chair before he finally reveals his thoughts.

“I know I have probably said this, but, thank you. You have been too kind, more than I deserve. You have given me a second chance, and it’s one I don’t deserve and one I will live my life repaying. So thank you, Queen Y/N.” He reaches for his sword and then kneels with his hands on his pommel. “My sword is yours, my Queen. I may not be a great fighter anymore, but I have experience that can be just as valuable. I want to serve you.”

You share a small glance with Jon before you stand on your feet. “Then you shall. I need all the help I can get. And I value your thoughts, Ser Jaime. Just promise that when you see me straying from my moral path that you will help rather than betraying me. Remind me of the people I fight for because some rulers tend to forget who really keeps them in power.”

The corner of Jaime’s lips tug upward before he nods in agreement. “I will. I swear.”

“Great. Then if Jon wants you can help him with the armies. You may also help train the soldiers.”

Jaime gets to his feet and accepts before finally leaving Jon and you alone.

“Now,” Jon says and take your hand. “Can I have you to myself?”

You grab onto his arm and drop your head on his shoulder. “Please, I beg you.”

——

*LATER THAT NIGHT*

With the anger fueling through your blood, with fury clouding your mind, sleep was impossible, that hunger for revenge kept you awake and raised a desire in you for something to be done. Something that you haven’t touched in a long time, dark magic.

Rhaenar was your son, he was your little boy, and Daenerys took him, she will pay with blood, you will rip everything she has ever loved from her hands so she can feel what it is you feel.

So while the castle is sleeping, while no one can interrupt you, you use the chambers where Daenerys had stayed in to conduct a spell.

“Did you bring it?” You ask Sarella.

Sarella nods and unhooks her cloak to show the small baby in her hands.

You trusted no one else but them, besides the others would only judge you for this dark magic. Elia and Sarella won’t.

“It’s sick,” she mentions. “Mother dead, father drunk and with no love for this child.”

You nod stiffly and take the blade from the flames, and watch as the metal gleams red and orange with how hot it is.

“A dragon will never compare to the love you have for your own children. I want her to feel that love, that joy when she holds her child in her arms for the first time. I want to see her care for that child so much more than her own life so she feels an ounce of what I feel.” You sneer to the flames. “Blood for blood. Son for a son.” You glare at the flames and clench your jaw.

You then turn to grab the bowl off the floor, but just before you can you come to a sudden stop as you swear you see Rhaenar’s face in the flames, you swear you see his sweet brown eyes. And a small frown on his face. It’s only for a second, but you swear you do.

“I’ll use my blood that connects us,” you mutter and put the bowl over the fire. You then put your palm in front of you and use the sharp edge of the blade to cut a slash on your palm.

The pain stings and burns, but you just clench your jaw and keep quiet as the blood begins to spill out of the cut. After the slash is made you put the blade down and put your hand over the fire and fist your hand to make the blood pour over the bowl.

“Now, Elia give it to me,” you interject and put your uninjured hand out.

Without hesitation the girl comes to you and hands you a brush. One Daenerys had left behind when she left Winterfell.

“Now I’ll use her hair to connect this spell to her.” You add and pull the strands of hair off the brush and throw it in the bowl. “Now,” you sigh deeply and feel some hesitance and regret. But your pain is much deeper, so you turn regardless, and Sarella hands you the sickly baby.

“The sacrifice to complete this spell,” you continue and pick up the knife from the floor. You swallow thickly and without thinking deeper into what you’re going to do you slice.

The blood trickles out so you push it towards the fire and let the thick scarlet liquid spill over the bowl. Once the bowl is full you hand the lifeless body back to Sarella. “Feed it to the dragons.” You tell her.

“Now it’s time to finish.” You put the blade down, and put your arms out, you close your eyes and lift your head to begin chanting the needed spell in High Valyrian.

At first you start off quiet, but you get louder and louder, whilst the fire suddenly enrages and sends off sparks and thick smoke as it engulfs the bowl and what it contains inside.

The heat intensifies, bringing sweat to break out on your face, making the dress stick to your skin. The fire's light brightens, making Elia and Sarella shield their eyes.

But the act doesn’t last long, it then ends and the heat and brightness fades back to what it was before. Now nothing remains in the bowl anymore. Now the spell is complete.

“There,” you let your sisters know. “She’s barren no longer. She’ll have a child now and fear my pain. Soon she’ll pay. Son for a son.

A/N- Now do you guys think Daenerys will have a child with Daario? Or one with Gendry?

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