Disclaimer: Mr. Martin owns A song of Ice and Fire. I am not that lucky since I'm not kissed by fire.
My Blood Will Wash Away Their Sins
The dragons land and fire burns brighter and hotter than ever. They're dead. The dragon feeds on lions and he is just a cub. They think he doesn't know, doesn't see, doesn't understand. They're all fools. Dead fools if they do not yield.
He sits on that chair —a chair of death, of blood, of madness, of hate and swords—and acts as a King, Margaery on his side. But the kingdom bleeds and fear creeps in. And he is just a kid. Grandfather, the only one who had an idea of how to run a kingdom, is dead and Mother, his sweet and strong and cold lady Mother, has turned mad and paranoid. He understands. They don't think he does, but he is no fool.
The Mother of Dragons rides to battle with her hair braided and bells that anounce her victories, and she wears armour with rubies in it. Or so they say. The blood of old Valyria runs through her veins and it burns. She's here to conquer and surrender he will if that's the price he has to pay in order to bring peace. They think him weak —and maybe he is—, but he's a King and he does what he must for the people he has sworn to protect.
Cold winters are coming their way and Starks are always right in the end. He kneels before the gods in the Sept and he prays until his back hurts and his eyes fill with tears. He prays for every Baratheon that still breaths and for every Lannister that crosses paths with the Targaryen Princess. He prays for Mother and Myrcella, for Uncle Stannis, who wants to kill him, for Uncle Jaime, with his golden hair and golden skin and golden sword and golden hand. He also prays for Father's soul, and Joffrey's too, for Uncle Renly's, who taught him how to read, for Grandfather's, who fought beside his Father to win him his throne. But he prays for Margaery and Myrcella the most. He prays for them, innocent souls that did nothing wrong.
He is but twelve, only a child, but he knows he must protect his lady wife as best as he can. He asks her if she would mind a babe —a babe to protect her and keep her alive when the Dragon Queen comes to take what is hers with fire and blood. And Marg kisses him sweetly and guides him with soft hands and he wonders if she'll ever love him as much as he loves her.
They try every night and Marg starts to grow heavy with child two moons later. She looks even more beautiful, she smells nicer than ever and she feels softer, too. She makes love to him over and over again, as if she's afraid that it will be their last time. He lets her have her way and together they think of names for the half stag, half cub kid with rosewater for blood that grows inside her. Should it be a girl, they'll name her Janei; if it's a boy, Robert. But he knows there'll be no time for him to know the babe, so he dreams of girls as beautiful as Marg and his sister and of boys with bright blue eyes, as strong and fierce as Father must have been.
When the time comes and he has to face the woman that calls herself Queen, he doesn't spear a look to those beasts that fly in lazy circles above her head. No, he kneels before her and pleads for Queen Margaery's life. Her eyes are cold, but when he throws away his crown and he tells her of the babe —the babe who shall be braver and stronger and better than him—, she nods and he knows he has done well.
His Uncle Tyrion is by the Queen's side and he tries to plead for Tommen's life, but he won't let him. He is the son of the Usurper and a Lannister after that, it is his death that will finally bring peace to the kingdom that should be his by birthright. His death and his family's, even if he wishes they'd survive. But there is no chance for that to happen, not when they all have golden hair and emerald eyes and through their veins runs molten gold.
In the end, he only prays for Myrcella —sweet and lovely and brave Cella. But even she ends up dead. His last thought is for Margaery, twice the Queen Daenerys will ever be, and the sweet babe that's still growing in her womb. And he follows his sister to death.
Margaery Tyrell and thrice Baratheon through marriage gives birth to honey-eyed twins with curls made of sunlight and she names the eldest Robert and the one who follows Tommen. When they come of age, Robert shall be Lord of Storm's End and Tommen shall take the Lannister name and follow Tyrion as Lord of Casterly Rock. It is only right they do so.
Meanwhile, as they suckle at her breasts, she tells them stories of a brave King who mounted on the back of lions (kittens), who braided her hair with flowers (and kissed her until she became feverish) and who gave his life to safe theirs (because he was the truest of knights).
Excuse me while I go to that corner over there and cry because of feels. Yes, I just killed my sweet Tommen, the first of his name, King of the Seven Kingdoms and Lord Protector of kittens. And now I'm crying because of reasons. And I killed my Cella too. I am a horrible, terrible and very cruel person. I deserve to be punished. Still crying.