"Honestly, I don't know which was worse. The smell of shit or the smell of ashes."
Arya raised an eyebrow at her older sister, crossing her arms. "You mean the starving people or dead people?"
Sansa sighed. "You do have a point there." It had been nearly a third of a moonturn before the ash that coated the air of the devastated capitol had finally settled, a rush of temperate weather from the center of the continent bringing a reprieve from the worst winter in history. Already crews of volunteer laborers and the various bannermen were moving to cart away the ash to the farms of the Crownlands for fertilizer. Maesters stated that spring would be returning with a vengeance quite soon and master builders hoping to ease the destruction before the seasonal spring rains from Shipbreaker Bay arrived. Then, the remaining ash would wash much of it away into Blackwater Bay rather than create massive floods.
"Still, it's a shame we have to be back here rather than stay in Dragonstone." Arya had nothing but horrible memories here, while Dragonstone contained recent joy of finally getting to know Daenerys - the embodiment of her hero Visenya Targaryen - feeling her niece and nephew's first movements, and riding atop Jon's dragon. Memories she would never forget. "At least I won't be alone in my misery."
Both Stark sisters smirked at the discomfort of the other Lords and Ladies hunkered in the crumbling Dragonpit, filled with the detritus of thousands of refugees. It was especially comical to watch pompous blowhards like Paxter Redwyne or their own cousin Robyn Arryn look apoplectic at their fine doublets or armor become stained by the mud and soot.
Eventually, the Unsullied standing guard allowed the dignitaries onto the raised dias in the center of the pit. Assembled in the same style as the infamous meeting here almost a full six moonturns before - Gods, is that all the time that has passed? - the Lords and Ladies took their seats corresponding to their geographic station. "Where are their Graces?" asked the aging Lord Anders Yronwood of Dorne. Not a marital man even in his youth, he had stayed behind while Arianne and Edric led the Dornish relief army to the Dusken.
"They will be here momentarily, my Lord," Davos stated, seated next to the two gold inlaid mobile thrones.
"You said they would be here by now." Glaring at Lord Royce, Robyn Arryn may have grown into a dashing young man, but he retained the impulsive arrogance of his childhood. Sansa shared a knowing look with Arya… then with Davos. They would have to coordinate significantly with Lord Royce to find a suitable, loyal wife to rein him in and manage the Vale.
"I assure you, Lord Arryn," Davos explained gently, as if he was talking to his young boys. "They will be here. Have patience."
This only drew Robyn's ire. "You Flea Bottom nobody," he spat. "You don't get to talk to the Lord of the Eyrie in that way…"
"Cousin," Arya barked. "Shut the fuck up and wait." Sansa bit back a laugh, while the Dornish and other Northerners didn't share such niceties. Even Lord Royce looked amused as Robyn crossed his arms and sulked in his chair… nevertheless, he obeyed Arya's directive.
An ear-splitting roar echoed over the Dragonpit. Heads angled up as two massive shapes shot overhead. The Green and Black dragons of the Targaryen monarchs banking around, wings flapping madly to slow down. Many of the newly arrived Lords stared in awe - the first time they had even seen the great beasts everyone in Westeros had spoken of for years at this point. With a rumbling crash they landed upon the walls, scrambling down and lowering their shoulders. Clad in Valyrian style armor, King Aegon and Queen Daenerys made their way to the dias hand in hand. Contravening standard protocol, but who was going to stop them.
Targaryens answer to neither gods nor men. Arya, Sansa, Davos, and the other close loyalists grinned at how the two were asserting their strength by merely showing their adoration for each other.
Davos was immediately out of his seat. "My King. My Queen."
Sansa and Arya followed, mirroring the Hand by bending the knee. "My King. My Queen."
Missandei and Grey Worm. "My King. My Queen."
Yara Greyjoy. "My King. My Queen."
Soon, all of them - even the once undecided Lords after seeing Drogon and Rhaegal up close - had bent the knee. "My Queen," Jon whispered hotly into Daenerys' ear, tongue darting out quickly to lick the shell.
Daenerys felt both satisfaction at seeing all of Westeros finally bend the knee to her and Jon and a tingling arousal pooling in her core from Jon's subtle flirting. I am going to rip that armor off him the second we're alone. "Later, my King," she whispered back, voice dripping with seduction. The grey eyes that made her melt twinkled, but the Targaryen dragonlord inside him took over and he took his seat. Dany taking hers right next to him, putting their masks on. "Honored Lords and Ladies, you may be seated and thank you for making the journey."
"It's not like we had a choice," grumbled Lord Arryn, only for another glare from Arya to shut him up again.
Lord Royce was far more politic. "Forgive my Liege Lord, your Grace. He hasn't gotten over the fact that the man he thought of as a second father murdered both of his parents." Daenerys had never met Petyr Baelish, but she was sure Drogon would have found him a tasty snack. "We would always choose the King and Queen that saved all of us during the Long Night."
"Thank you, Lord Royce." Jon looked at all of the Lords. "When I was of a different name, I called a meeting of all the Lords of the North, Vale, and True North. I had no claim to anything with the name I had, yet after I laid down the threat facing us, all the Lords proclaimed me King of the North, as well as their fealty in perpetuity. I asked not that they do it, nor did I compel them to. Neither do my wife, the Queen, and I do so today."
"And yet you did kill Lord Glover, did you not?" asked Lord Redwyne. "He refused to swear fealty again once your true identity as Aegon Targaryen was revealed and you had him executed by the blood eagle."
"Lord Glover plotted with Lord Varys to kill his wife and unborn child, Lord Redwyne," Sansa shot back. "He was a traitor and an attempted childslayer either way. Under the Laws of Westeros, his Grace had every right." Meeting eyes with Daenerys, the Queen offered a thankful look.
Daenerys cleared her throat, rising. "You have bent the knee to my husband and I, and we have claimed my family's ancestral home by right of conquest and honor. But the brave Unsullied of Astapor follow me because they so choose." Grey Worm nodded. "The freedmen of the Bay of Dragons follow me because they so choose." Missandei smiled softly. "The Dothraki follow me because they so choose to follow the woman that would raise them above what they were before. And so too will my husband and I allow you to choose."
There was silence. "What we promise is different than what you know," Jon stated, filling the void. "A world actually better than the shit one we've all known, but not just for us. For all the inhabitants of our kingdoms. You have your choice. You may go back to your castles and holdfasts and live as you've always lived on your own. Or you may join us, and actually build something worth giving to your heirs." Neither him nor Dany were keen on letting any of them go independent, but if they were to build a new world for their babes to rule, then practicing what they preached was vital.
The dias was filled with hushed whispers and brooding murmurs, each Lord or Lady discussing what had just transpired. Into the mix, Tyrion pushed himself out of his chair. Waddling forward to the center of the dias. "There was a time where petty Kings ruled over this land. War, strife, famine… frankly, even when there were only seven kingdoms it wasn't too good of a time. Why have power when all you could use it for is to keep death at bay for a mere day at a time?" He had a point. "The era of House Targaryen had strife but Westeros prospered, and I have no doubt that their Graces will seek to build a new dawn. The same dawn they delivered for us." He looked each of the Lords and Ladies in the eye. "Perhaps who should rule over us is the one with the best story. Who better than the Lightbringer and the Mother of Dragons?" He gestured to Jon and Daenerys. "A man thought a bastard but actually a hidden prince. A long-lost princess that crawled from effective slavery to conquer half the known world. Who came together despite all odds to find each other and defeat monsters thought merely myths. Damn… if they had done even half the things they did, I would choose them all the same."
"Long may they reign," stated Missandei, bending the knee again. Once more, she was joined by all the other Lords and Ladies.
The second Targaryen Dynasty was born.
Fisting the silk sheets and plush furs hastily tossed aside a mere ten minutes before, Daenerys' eyes fluttered at the intense pleasure she was feeling. A pleasant warmth coursing through her interrupted by sudden spasms of intensity. "Don't stop, my King…"
Tongue slowly swiping through the soaked velvet of the Dragon Queen's folds, Jon felt the thrill go through him at her words. Referring to his true name, his royalty, their shared blood… gods damn him it did something to him. He tossed her legs atop his shoulders, lifting Daenerys high to a far better angle to devour his dragon. Growling into Dany's cunt, tongue plunging as deep as he could inside of her.
"Ahhhh!" Daenerys screamed, echoes resounding off the black walls of their now shared quarters on Dragonstone - long making up for the lost time of his stay here. Having christened every room of their chambers, every piece of furniture, and every wall. Her sexy husband couldn't get enough of her and Daenerys wasn't minding in the slightest. "Fuck! Yes, Aegon… yes!" The babes made her insatiable. Luckily, Jon was there to satiate all her cravings.
Replacing his tongue with his fingers, Jon sucked in a breath. "Please, Daenerys.," he rasped in his northern brogue. "Come for me my Queen." Three digits curled deep inside her, hitting the spot he knew made her spew dragonfire. "I need to taste all of you." Without further warning he latched to her bud. Tongue lashing against it with frantic speed.
Unable to stand it any longer, Daenerys' hands released the fabric. Weaving into the raven curls of her beloved Targaryen husband and King. Holding him to her clit as she impaled herself onto his fingers. "NEPHEW!" she screamed the delicious taboo. Voice so loud that the very rafters shook. That in the distance Drogon roared… "Nephew! Aegon! Yes! I'm coming for you, nephew…!"
A delighted groan tumbled from Jon's lips as she shattered around his fingers. Digits continuing to curl, drawing out her orgasm and make her quiver above him on their massive bed. Eventually he couldn't take it anymore - yanking his fingers out and replacing it with his lips and tongue. Lapping up everything that she gave him. Not stopping till her jerking motions ceased and nothing but breathless pants left her mouth. Sitting up on his knees, Jon licked his cum soaked fingers, all in view of her glassy violet eyes. "Delicious."
Dany swore she came again watching his grinning, beautiful lips smack up her from the digits. Barely able to move from the exhausting orgasm or the seven moon pregnant belly swollen with their babes, she limply gestured to him with her hands. "Come here. You're too far away."
As if I could resist. With her flushed skin and silver hair splayed like a halo on their pillows, Jon would have unquestioningly obeyed Daenerys had she asked him to personally sharpen every sword in the Dragonstone armory. Without fuss, he crawled till he nestled beside her - pulling the Queen of Westeros to his side. "I love you," he whispered with pure sincerity.
Her heart caught a little at the emotion in his voice. "I love you too." Leaning over with not a little difficulty to kiss the scar resting above his heart - she made sure to do it at least once a day - Daenerys cuddled happily into his chest. "Did you have to do that? We were working." Dany's giggle belied the fact she wasn't truly irritated at him.
"Part of my Kingly duties is pleasing my Queen," was the smug reply. A tone that would have gotten the old Jon Snow in trouble but one that Aegon Targaryen was dipping into more and more.
From the smile on Dany's face, she loved it. "Mmmm, and you've done an amazing job at that, your Grace."
With the coronation at the Dragonpit behind them and King's Landing still a smoking wreck, 'Court' was being held at Dragonstone for the time being. Shortages of everything after consistent fighting and dying over the last several years rather problematic, Davos, Missandei, Sansa, and Tyrion were running things while the monarchs were allowed three weeks of a belated wedding gift on their ancestral home with a skeleton crew to tend to their needs. Fundamentally, that meant days spent together - talking, reading, riding their dragons, exploring… and plenty of lovemaking. Dany felt she'd be walking strangely for a moonturn once the actual court arrived from the mainland.
However, the lack of supervising didn't keep them from making plans. Stacks of parchment strewn all around their chambers and solar, each detailing different ideas and projects they hoped to engage in once the chaos of the various wars settled down. Chief among them, what they found within the 'hidden chamber.' A discovery that made Jon break down in tears upon finding it.
The hidden domain of Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and his beloved bride, Lyanna Stark.
Glancing up at her beloved, Daenerys found him in his most common pastime - brooding. "What's on your mind, my love?" Gently, she began to stroke the hard planes of his chest. Hoping his expression would soften.
True to form, Jon sighed. Releasing some of his brooding tension. "It didn't have to be like this."
Her brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"
Jon's mind kept going over the inventory of what they had found. Rhaegar's sets of armor, the very metal plates and shield of the Knight of the Laughing Tree worn by his mother at the infamous Harrenhal tourney, diaries written by both, sketches, designs, glittering Valyrian Steel trinkets seeming to date far past the Doom of Valyria… all reminding him of the past. Of something that was destined to have passed if not for the perfidy of the earthly machinations of man.
"They loved each other, Dany. My parents… Rhaegar wanted Lyanna to be his Queen."
Nodding, finally understanding, Dany cuddled ever closer to him. Wanting to hug him so tightly that they could never be separated. "We would have grown up together." The thought brought sadness to her as well. "Thinking about our family, Rhaegar likely would have betrothed us…"
"He explicitly said such." Her attention fully on him, Jon continued. "I saw it in one of the diaries Jaime saved." Jaime fucking Lannister, keeping the secret all this time. He wouldn't have believed it had he not seen it for himself, and it eased his worries about naming him Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West. "He had a dream, showing him he was to have a boy with my mother rather than a girl."
"I'm rather glad you turned out a boy, my King." She punctuated her statement by curling her fingers around his length.
Grinning down at Dany, Jon was grateful at her attempt to lighten the mood. "I love you." They shared a kiss before he continued. "When learning about your mother's pregnancy, he wrote that it seemed a sign from the gods. Hoping that he would have a younger sister to betroth me to. 'Four young dragons to bring our family back from the brink,' as he wrote."
"Even when he was but a child, he dismissed Viserys as not a true dragon. Had I not been a scared girl I probably would have seen it sooner." But Daenerys didn't want to think about Viserys… nor the alternate timeline of she growing up with Jon. Falling in love with him without the backdrop of war and death. Getting married with their entire family watching, peacefully ruling by his side… "If we look back we are lost."
Sad smile curling on his lips, Jon leaned down to kiss the crown of her head. Inhaling the wonderful scent of her hair. "Aye. We can only look forward." A hand came to rest over her stomach, while his gaze shifted to the crackling fire in their large hearth - one her gaze found rather quickly. "I think those were the biggest surprise of all."
Resting within the flames were five dragon eggs. All a mix of swirling colors dotting the scaled surfaces. Each calling to them, bonding closely to them. They had been just as ossified as Dany's first three eggs, but upon discovery the same feeling that she had to Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion upon the Dothraki Sea so long ago had returned. Feelings she shared with not just Jon, but with the babes in her belly. "The return of House Targaryen. Restored to glory."
Jon chuckled. "The Realm barely survived three dragons, let alone seven." He looked back to her. "But ours won't bring destruction."
She gazed into his eyes. "Raised by us, their siblings riding them… we will build a new world." Effortlessly, she straddled him, hands splayed on his chest. "You and me, Aegon. Together." Feeling him already hard and waiting for her, Daenerys didn't waste any time taking the engorged length in her hand and guiding it to her entrance.
A groan left his lips as Dany sheathed him inside her. The warm promise of a happy future mixing with the scorching lust they felt for each other. Hands going to her hips. Holding her firmly while she impaled herself over and over onto him. "Break the wheel… together."
"Together… always together…" Dany's hair went every which way in a wild mop as the lust overcame her. "Oh, Aegon…" They wouldn't be leaving the bedchamber anytime soon.
"You must push, your Grace."
"I can't… I can't do it."
"Dany, you can." Jon held her hand beside her on the birthing bed. Only ten hours before they had been in a Small Council meeting at the painted table, but suddenly Dany's water had broken and was rushed to her chambers. It was agonizing for him, watching the most important person in the world to him in such pain - and yet Jon had not left her side for one moment. Him being the only person other than Missandei that Daenerys wanted to comfort her. "You are strong. So very strong."
The maester of Dragonstone was ready to deliver the baby. "Push, your Grace. Push." More screams, ones that were like a dagger to Jon's heart.
As Dany's scream petered out, both monarchs heard the most beautiful sound they had ever yet witnessed. A shrill cry. A babe - their babe - taking their first breath. "Congratulations your Graces," the maester announced. "A healthy prince."
Almost numb, Jon saw the tiny little human crying his lungs out in the Maester's arms. An assistant cutting the cord before Missandei and the nursemaids took the Prince away for cleaning. "Jon…" murmured Dany. "I want to see my son. I want to see Aemon."
Aemon. Crown Prince Aemon Targaryen - Dany had names their son after one of the mentors of his life. One of the greatest men he ever knew… his numbness broke as tears welled in his eyes.
Suddenly, Dany groaned again in pain. Jon's wide eyes finding hers. "Your Grace, the second babe is on their way," the maester said calmly. "Please relax and wait to push."
"Jon…" Dany murmured before crying out as a contraction spasmed through her.
Glancing back to where his son was, Missandei gestured to Daenerys. "Go, I've got him."
Jon was by his wife's side instantaneously. Clutching her hand in his, he kissed her forehead. "I'm here, my dragon. I'm here."
Sweat covered Dany, silver hair matted to the sheen covering her forehead. "If I… don't make it…"
"Don't say that," he almost hissed.
But she was insistent. "Please… take care of Aemon and our daughter… promise me, Jon."
"You're going to live." If any King could make it done from sheer force of will, it was Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of His Name.
"You're ready, your Grace. Push." Squeezing his hand tightly, Daenerys screamed. Pushing with all her might. "The babe is crowning, push again." Her scream shook the walls of Dragonstone, far different from the pleasurable ones she had done plenty of times before…
Only to be replaced by another wail. "A beautiful Princess, your Graces," the maester beamed, handing another tiny bundle to the nursemaids.
Taking a strip of cloth, Jon wiped Dany's forehead. "Our daughter is here, Dany. Our son and daughter." It didn't seem real to him, but Jon knew it to be true.
Face flushed and voice hoarse, Daenerys looked to Jon. "Bring… bring me my babes."
As if on cue, Missandei arrived with little Aemon tucked into her arms. Handing him gingerly to Jon. He was a perfect bundle of joy - wisps of silver hair and bright violet eyes staring up at whomever was holding him. "Our son, Dany," an awed Jon whispered. "He's a strong Valyrian Prince."
"My babe…" Dany burst into tears as Jon left Aemon on her chest. Arms wrapping around him to hold him close. "My sweet little boy. Muna is here for you." She peppered his face with kisses. Watched by the smiling Jon… all they needed was their daughter and the family would be whole.
Wiped clean by the nursemaids, Missandei took the pink child - unable not to tickle her nose with a wide smile - and handed her to the King. Jon happily cuddled his daughter, overjoyed to the point of tears at the tufts of Dany's silver hair on her head. "My little one," he cooed, kissing her cheek. Snuggling her tight against his chest. "Little Daena." Princess Daena Targaryen's eyes fluttered open tiredly, revealing a milky grey staring up at her crying father. "Kepa loves you so."
Even with Aemon tucked securely in the crook of her left arm, Daenerys felt incomplete without her daughter. "Jon…" she whimpered desperately, free hand reaching out frantically for the babe. "Give her to me…" Nothing like the mighty conquering Dragon Queen, but these precious darlings were worth far more to her than any throne or crown.
Kissing Daena's forehead once more, Jon was unable to disobey Dany's pleading command. "Here you go. Here's muna." Gingerly, he set Daena in the crook of Dany's right arm. Taking a seat right next to them, not wanting to be even mere feet away from his beloved family.
Finding her daughter's grey eyes almost instantly, Daenerys' heart nearly stopped. "My love, she has your eyes." Both of her children tucked tightly against her, Daenerys felt a surge of protectiveness within her. For years, never did she think she would have this. That she would be so lucky to find not only the love of a fellow dragon, but also to hold their children in her arms. Daenerys never got to hold onto her little Rhaego - taken from her in a brutal labor, born so scarred and deformed that Jorah had hid his body from her - but Aemon and Daena, no one would take them from her. They are mine. Mine and Jon's.
Both Aemon and Daena cooed simultaneously, squirming and shifting to make themselves comfortable. Openly crying at this point - uncaring of who saw their mighty King in this state - Jon leaned forward to envelop his family in a tight hug. "Ñuha jorrāelagon."
The fact he spoke their mother tongue - however horrible the accent was - made all the difference to her. "Ñuha gevie zokla zaldrīzes." She waited for him to look at her, moving to press a gentle kiss to his lips. The smile couldn't fall, eyes sparkling as they glanced at each of their babes. "Issi īlva riñar."
"Our children." Holding each other tightly, the terrible resolve of the dragons melted into their adoring warmth. Pain and loneliness of their bast long forgotten, giving way towards a future of happiness each had so longed for.
Ten years later.
Shadows cast over entire city blocks, the roars and hoots of the flying dragons were routine for the people of King's Landing. While some more skittish or traumatized survivors of Euron Dragonbinder and Mad Queen Cersei's bloodthirsty competition to immolate the capitol still flinched automatically, most went about their business. Not even glancing up - gawking looks easily distinguishing the travelers - whispering a prayer of thanks to various deities for the protection of their great King and Queen.
Scars still existed in King's Landing from the twilight of the Troubled Times, but these were dwarfed by the majesty of the rebuilt capitol city. Large avenues were patrolled by professional silvercloaks. Aqueducts brought fresh water from the hills of the northern Stormlands, joining with the ever expanding sewer system to erase the pervasive stink of shit that once made King's Landing so infamous. Atop Rhaenys' Hill was the renovated Dragonpit, only this time open to the sky so that the mighty Black Dread Reborn and King's Fury could fly free. The Sept of the Dawn, golden as the sun, brought glory back to Visenya's Hill. Whereas the Sept of Baelor was erected by a madman to honor enemies of the crown, the current one was constructed by the mighty Mother of Dragons to celebrate the impossible victory in the Long Night. Commemorating the martyrs, saints, and the Lightbringers themselves alongside the three main faiths of the Targaryen realm - its Weirwood tree had already grown from a sapling to its red leaves nearly poking out over the tops of the building.
Hooting, Rhaegal banked over the Red Keep, Drogon following his brother to present themselves over their mother and father's home. Overlooking a massive parade ground at the base of Aegon's High Hill, extensive renovations had left the structure the glittering jewel of King's Landing. A perfect seat to hold the occupants of the Dragon Throne. Made entirely of dragonglass ore, it formed two seats close together - one for the Targaryen King and the other for his powerful Queen. While the Iron Throne symbolized the Fire and Blood that forged the wheel, the Dragon Throne was a product of the greatness and majesty of Westeros' rebirth. A new dawn, ready to be handed down to a generation finally better off than the one before it.
And said next generation was in the private courtyard of Maegor's Holdfast, practicing his archery. "Damn it!" Grumbled Crown Prince Aemon Targaryen, bow dropping. He cursed again under his breath at the arrow having his several inches to the right of the center.
"Easy does it, lad," grumbled Sandor Clegane, forcing himself to hold patience with the Crown Prince. He got along well with Aemon - not that he'd ever admit it, especially to the damned Lady of Storm's End when she paid the capitol a visit… which she would often now that Ser Davos was retiring and Arya Baratheon was set to take his place as Hand of the King - but the infamous Hound was quick to boredom. Sometimes I think their Graces order me to teach their children just to irk me. "No, don't puff out your breaths. Deep in and hold it while you aim."
"If I don't breath, Ser Sandor, then I die," the ten year-old shot back.
The Hound rolled his eyes. "Then stop taking so much damn time to aim… and I'm no ser!"
Smiling innocently at the Kingsguard, Aemon was silent for a moment. "I know."
"Cheeky cunt. Now hit the fucking target!"
Used to his teacher's outbursts at this point, the Crown Prince felt eyes boring in on him from above. Glancing to the battlements of Maegor's Holdfast, there they were. Clad in a black leather cuirass and red breeches was his father, King Aegon VI Targaryen. His hands splayed out on the red stone with a happy smile on his face. Stepping into the place beside him was his mother, Queen Daenerys I Targaryen. The red and black dress of their House colors complimenting her perfectly. Leaning into his father, they looked both the epitome of powerful Targaryen monarchs and the loving parents they were. Smiles on their faces providing the perfect incentive to be the best. I won't let you down.
Inhaling deeply, Aemon closed one of his eyes. Focusing, blocking out anything but the act of notching the arrow, drawing back the string. Aiming for the target. With a whoosh the bowstring snapped back into place and the arrow flew, impacting dead center. He beamed as those watching clapped their hands. "Good job, kid." The Hound smacked him on the back, staggering Aemon. "You'll be riding dragons and slaughtering motherfuckers before you know it."
"Only enemies of the crown, you know that." Aemon wanted to be known as a powerful warrior, but also as a learned peacemaker - like Daeron the Good or his own namesake… or his parents. Both wore faces of complete pride… only to glance in another direction…
Thwack.
Another arrow sliced through the middle of Aemon's, splitting it open. All eyes went to the archer, who smiled and took a bow. Wind flying through her silver hair.
"Daena!" Aemon scowled. "Do you have to be a damn showoff?!"
"It's only showing off if I'm better than you, which I am by the way."
About to race off - and her brother right after her - a high-pitched squeal ran headlong into the Crown Prince. "Aemon!" The raven curls of the five year-old Princess Lyarra bounced as she did. "You were great!" She absolutely idolized her older brother, and as Daena raced over to embrace them both as well, it was clear that all three miracle siblings were just as close. The 'Three Heads of the Dragon' as many were fond of calling them. Born of the great Lightbringer and Mother of Dragons. Truly beloved by all.
Watching the scene below with pure adoration, Dany felt Jon pull her closer into his embrace. "What are you thinking about, my Queen?"
"Mmmmmm," she snuggled back against him. When Daenerys was in the arms of her King, husband, and lover, the weight of the Valyrian steel crown upon her head simply disappeared. Only when she flew Drogon did the feeling even come close to matching. "Just about our new child. I hope he or she is as wonderful as our miracles."
Kissing the crook of her neck, Jon watched as three tiny shapes swept into the training yard of the Red Keep. Flapping their wings until they landed onto the shoulders of their bonded future riders. Dragons chirping as the new generation of Targaryens began showering them with pets and attention. How well the children cared for their dragons, Jon couldn't wait till Arya arrived with Nymeria's litter in less than a moonturn. "Three eggs down, two to go… unless you wish to be Alysanne?"
Leaning back to smirk at him, Dany swatted his shoulder. "I don't intend on letting myself die before you, my King." She turned into his arms. Ones that fought and hacked and bled to win them this delirious joy. "This day till the end of my days. You and me."
"Aye, no better." With the Targaryen banners fluttering atop the battlements as they passed, Drogon and Rhaegal roared across the rebuilt city. Begun anew, as was the entirety of the Seven Kingdoms, from the resolve of its King and Queen. A resolve not so terrible, but always mighty.
THE END