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The Others had been defeated, but the victory had cost them much. The realm that was left was a ghost of what the Seven Kingdoms once was. It was divided and destroyed. Dorne followed Daenerys Targaryen, the Westerlands falling behind with no one to lead them against her. The Riverlands and the Vale took their cue from the North, as did the Stormlands, and even the Reach was linked to them in a somewhat tentative alliance.

This clear divide left a uniting of the kingdoms as there only option. Though, there would always be sacrifices to be made in the pursuit of peace.

"You are my wife." Jon declared, gripping the back of the chair opposite where she sat at the table, "A man may only have one wife."

"Aegon the Conqueror had two."

"Aye," he acknowledged, "And Maegor the Cruel had six."

"He only had three at once," she pousted out casually, much to his annoyance, "We all have our duties to the realm."

"And I have duties to you, and to our children." He said, "The realm can burn before I dishonour you."

Blood may name him Rhaegar's child, she thought, but he was Ned's son through and through. And she knew he thought back to the actions of both his father's when faced with his current predicament. Rhaegar had taken a second wife and it had torn the realm apart.

But I am not Lyanna or Elia, she told herself, there would be no abductions or clandestine affairs. This was not for a prophecy. They were doing this to heal the realm.

And do not pretend I did not see the way you looked at Val, she thought, and now you look at Daenerys the same way. Let no one ever accuse her of being blind. Her husband desired the wildling princess, and now the would-be-queen. It was not love, not what he felt for her. And she could not blame him for such lust. They were only thoughts, after all, thoughts could not harm her so long as they remained so.

"I will not let the realm burn." She said, "If I must share you with this Dragon queen, then so be it."

Jon took more convincing before he begrudgingly agreed. It may have seemed a dishonourable act to Jon, but it would be far more dishonourable for him to let Daenerys burn the kingdoms. Though, she doubted that the dragon Rhaegal would side against them, given he had chosen Jon as his rider. Even so, that was still two dragons against one.

And Daenerys needed them even more, for they held the loyalty of more than half the kingdom. They wanted peace. She wanted power.

When they meet with the Queen in the throne room, she did not sit on the Iron Throne, but stood with them as equals.

"I agree to your terms, Your Grace." Jon said, the bitterness obvious in his tone, "If you meet mine."

"Tell me what these terms are," Daenerys demanded, "And we will see if we can come to an agreement to end the bloodshed."

"My eldest son, Brandon, will be the heir." He said, looking down with discomfort, "No children we might have will displace him."

"I will have no children, but I will admit that we do need an heir." Daenerys said, "But Brandon is a Stark name, not one for a Targaryen prince."

"He may take a Targaryen name when he ascends to the throne," Layla suggested, "But you cannot compel me to rename my son."

"No, I would do no such thing." Daenerys admitted, "I do suppose that is a sufficient compromise. If that is all, then we will be wed in a moon's time, and the coronation shortly after."

"Coronation?" Jon asked,

"Yes," Daenerys replied, "Thee people will need to see their king and queens."

"Queens?" Layla asked this time, "You mean to crown me as well?"

"You were a Queen in your own right," Daenerys said, "It does not seem right to only make you Queen Consort."

"Thank you," Layla nodded, "Your Grace."

But she was wrong, she thought, what crown did I earn? She was queen by virtue of marrying a king. But I reclaimed the North, she reminded herself, I held it, lead it, ruled it. That must count for something.

When the day of their marriage reached, it seemed an peculiar thing to her, to watch one's husband wed another. It may have hurt more, had Jon not constantly looked to her during the ceremony. He wed the Dragon Queen in front of the New Gods, but they had wed in front of the Old Gods. And it was the Old Gods she knew he still prayed too.

At the feast she played the perfect guest. Sitting beside them, she did not allow Jon to lay a hand across her thigh as he usually would, or clasp her fingers in his. All conversation was directed at Daenerys as well, though Jon often remained quiet as his wives conversed.

In fact, Jon spent most of the feast brooding away. He had, by all accounts, inherited Rhaegar's melancholy. But Layla had aspired to make this a joyous occasion, and so it would be such. The music was loud, though she did not dare to sing to stop attention from moving to her. She danced with each of her step-sons, then her good-brother, Harlon, but dared not dance with any she had no familial connection to.

When the time for the bedding came she took no part in stripping her husband, simply slinking back to her room, trying and failing not to imagine what was occurring not to far from her. But she did not sleep alone that night, for her husband soon sought comfort back in her familiar arms, burying himself inside her as he pledged his love into the crook of her neck.

The Other Queen, as Layla had taken to calling Daenerys in her thoughts, was not pleased by the disappearance of her husband, so Layla sought her out the next morning.

"My apologies, Your Grace, for last night," Layla said, "The King should not have left you."

"Please, call me Daenerys, we are sisters now." She said, "And you have no need to apologise for our husband's behaviour. What were you to do, bar him from your room?"

I could have, she admitted, I could have ordered he turn around. I could have marched him back to your bed. But she had not. Instead, she had let him make love to her, sleep by her side, and wake her with kisses.

"May I ask, what," she started, but took a moment to compose the perfect question in her mind before speaking, "What happened last night?" She asked, "I hoped he did not treat you poorly."

"He was kind and gentle." Daenerys said, "I know he will never love me, and I do not expect that. But I do hope he will not always hate me."

"He doesn't hate you." Layla assured her, "He's just conflicted."

"That's a nice way of putting it." Daenerys said, leaning forward slightly, "May I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Why did you allow this marriage?" She asked, "What stood for you to gain?"

"Peace for the people." Layla shrugged, "I'm not overly fond of watching people burn. What about you? Why did you want this?"

"I did not wish to burn my people." Daenerys admitted, "You and Jon seemed the best candidates."

Layla did not ask her to expand on this. It felt odd to be sharing secrets with her husband's other wife. They seemed to like on another more than Jon and Daenerys. Or, at least, there was a certain amount of respect between the queens.

"What should my children call you?" She asked, "Aunt, perhaps."

"Yes," Daenerys agreed, "I think I would like that."


This is separate from my other one-shots, and will read more like a collection of one-shots than a full story.