Chapter Twenty-Five: Welcome To The New Age

A/N: Okay so...I suck at ending things. So yes, this is the last chapter. I am really sorry if it seems rushed or anything, but I am no good when it comes to endings. Hopefully you've enjoyed the story - I know I've loved writing it. I have three other Game of Thrones stories on my profile, if you haven't checked them out! Anyway, I hope you do like this last chapter, at least a little.

Lyandra watched as Meryn approached her, taking care to act like the scared little girl. The more defenseless he thought she was, the easier things would become. She backed against the dresser, gripping the edges tight in her hands. In the corner of her eye, she kept looking at her son. She had to keep Meryn's attention on her, for nothing could possibly befall Valerys. Lyandra didn't think she would survive if it did.

"Stupid Stark bitch," Meryn taunted her, but when he reached for her, Lyandra curled her hand into a fist and punched him hard across the face. No man would touch her without her consent. She was no distressed damsel to scream and cry as a man took her. Lyandra would fight him to the death, as long as it meant his as well.

Meryn staggered back, wiping blood from his mouth and looking as though he was surprised a teenage girl could hit so hard. A feral smile tugged at the corners of Lyandra's lips, her Tully blue eyes glittering with Stark fire. He scowled and smacked her hard, but although Lyandra's vision spun, she was focused. Hitting the ground heavily, Lyandra flipped herself onto her stomach and crawled across to the handheld mirror she had been allowed, the only vanity in her possession.

Meryn caught her by the ankle, dragging her back. But Lyandra's fingertips scraped the mirror, and she just managed to catch it in her grasp. When he flipped her onto her back, Lyandra lunged, smashing the mirror into his face. Meryn howled in pain and attempted to recoil, but Lyandra was faster. Filled with anger and loathing, unable to control the utter hatred she felt for anyone even slightly responsible for Robb's death, Lyandra slammed the mirror repeatedly into his face. Meryn keeled over to the side, his face covered in gashes and punctured with mirror shards.

Seeing that her enemy was dead, Lyandra first concern was for her son. Wiping blood from her lip and dropping the shattered mirror, she shoved herself to her feet and staggered over to her son's cot. Valerys was certainly awake, and he was fretting after hearing the fight. Gathering her baby in her arms, Lyandra hurried over to the door and tugged it open, taking a deep breath as she stepped outside. She was free. She had no clue how she was going to get out of King's Landing alive, but she would find a way.

Aegon and his men invaded King's Landing knowing that mercy was not an option. They had lost Robb Stark, and so the Lannisters would see justice, not mercy. Storming into the Red Keep, covered in the blood of Lannister men with his sword gleaming as brightly as his violet eyes, the first person Aegon looked for was right there: the man who had killed his grandfather. Jaime Lannister looked wryly amused as Aegon shifted into a battle stance, eyes narrowing as they focused upon him.

"Do you really think this is the answer?" Jaime shook his head slowly. "You can't defeat me, boy. I've been a knight for more years than you've been out of your mother's womb."

"Don't patronize me." Aegon's voice was cold. He was twenty years old, not a child to be spoken down to. He circled Jaime, knowing that he could not afford to lose. Somewhere in the Red Keep, his wife and child were being held prisoner still. He would find them, and free them. "You were younger than me when you stabbed the Mad King through the back, is that not so?"

"That may be true," Jaime stated, drawing his sword. "But what is your goal, Aegon? You're going to slaughter hundreds of people because you lost? You are no better than your grandfather after all."

"I am nothing like Aerys!" Aegon roared, losing his temper without meaning to. It was the ultimate insult, comparing him to a madman, a raving lunatic. He lunged at Jaime, but the older man easily blocked the blow. Aegon gritted his teeth and pushed, because he had the feeling that although Jaime was definitely the more experienced fighter, he would also tire more easily.

It was fury that drove Aegon. The Lannisters had killed his entire family, leaving him and his aunt Daenerys – who would likely never return to Westeros – as the sole survivors of his house. His good-brother had been mercilessly executed. His wife and child…who knew what kind of condition they were in? Aegon was tired of trying to be just to these people, tired of showing mercy where none would be shown in return.

As Aegon had anticipated, Jaime began to tire. He was a man past forty now, and it was starting to show in his movements. Aegon immediately pushed into attack, striking harder, faster, more ruthlessly. Jaime slowed under the pressure, but never once faltered. He was an excellent swordsman, Aegon would give him that. But that was before he fumbled, and Aegon managed to nick his arm.

There was no time for hesitation, not when it might cost more lives of people he loved. Aegon spun around and swung his sword in a wide arc, decapitating the Kingslayer where he stood. He watched dispassionately as the man's head fall to the ground with a dull thud. He didn't pretend to think that Jaime had deserved to die – killing Aerys had done both harm and good, so Aegon could not fault him that. But the truth was that Jaime had to die, and seeing the logic in that, Aegon had not faltered.

Lyandra had been ecstatic upon being reunited with her husband, who was immensely relieved to see that both she and Valerys were unharmed. He had fiercely embraced them both, smiling as he cradled his newborn son to him despite the blood that stained his armour. The real problem now that they had won King's Landing, now that the capital was overrun by Stark and Lannister forces, was deciding what to do with their enemies. Aegon knew the Lannisters had slaughtered his entire family, children included – but he was not Tywin Lannister.

After much deliberation and counselling from the rest of his men (and wife), decisions had been reached. Aegon had to admit that he was viciously pleased about the fact that Cersei and Tywin were to be executed. Cersei was pure poison, and there could be no forgiving Tywin for the crimes he had committed against the Targaryen name. The Lannister children however – they were a different, and more troubling, matter.

Myrcella was to remain in Dorne, under the watchful eye of Aegon's uncle Doran. When she came of age, she would marry Trystane – a prospect that was not too displeasing to the former princess, considering that both teenagers got along very well already. Tommen would become lord of Casterly Rock when he was old enough, growing up under Kevan's guidance. Tywin's younger brother had almost been beside himself at realising he was not being killed, but Aegon had warned him that even the slightest hint of treason would merit a beheading.

The Tyrells would return to Highgarden, for once Aegon had discovered their role in Joffrey's poisoning he had become far more merciful towards them. Margaery would marry Quentyn within the year, a match that both were reluctant about, yet at the same time strangely hopeful for.

"I want you to do it," Lyandra murmured, once the sentences had been announced. Aegon turned to glance at his wife, who cradled their young child in her arms. Valerys was sucking on his mother's sleeve, completely oblivious to what was going on around him. "My father used to say…he said that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. If you don't do it, then I will."

Aegon was filled with love for her, his beautiful and brave wife. She had lost so much, they both had – but Lyandra had watched her brother executed when his life could have been spared. Despite everything, she had not lost her fighting spirit, the thing that had first drawn him to her. He smiled and kissed the top of her head.

"Of course I will be the one to swing the sword, my love."

Catelyn cried when she saw her eldest daughter again, taking Lyandra tight in her arms and refusing to let her go. She cooed over her grandson, but there was no denying the sadness in Catelyn Stark's eyes. She had lost her eldest son and her husband, and nothing could ever fill that hole, not even baby Valerys. Lyandra had been so excited to see her family again – but she knew it couldn't last. Aegon was going to be crowned King soon enough, once all was done, and she would be living in King's Landing. She wasn't entirely sure how she felt about leaving her family behind.

The lions were either dead, or banished to Casterly Rock. There was nothing more to fear from war, because it was over. Yet the cost had been so dear, the price to be paid so high. Lyandra could still not think about Robb without tears welling in her eyes. The only consolation she had was that he died for what he believed in. He died to bring liberty to the North, and it had been his death that had roused the spirits of the banner-men and only now allowed the North to be set free.

"I will miss you dearly," Catelyn murmured into her daughter's brown hair. The baby in Lyandra's arms squirmed, and looking at the child, Catelyn saw so much of Robb in the boy, as well as both of his parents. It broke her heart, and she hoped that Lyandra would never have to go through the pain of losing her firstborn.

"As I will miss everyone in the North." Lyandra had to try her hardest not to choke out the words, because she knew if she lapsed into tears, her mother would too. Instead she focused her attention on Valerys, rocking him in her arms. It was hard to believe that in a matter of days, after she and Aegon were crowned, this little boy would be the Crown Prince of Westeros. She smiled as his tiny hand curled around her finger.

"He is a beautiful child," Catelyn stated, reaching forward to stroke the baby's soft, dark hair. "He looks quite a bit like you when you were very small. I have no doubt that I will visit the capital with your siblings, and we will watch him grow."

Lyandra was overwhelmed with emotion, and she threw an arm around her mother and pressed close, burying her face in Catelyn's shoulder and sobbing. She was Aegon's wife and she would not give that up for anything, but there could be no denying she would miss her family – especially as they had gone through so much together. She composed herself and sniffed, wiping her eyes. She would be Queen of Westeros soon. She had to act like it.

"Remember, we are only a raven away," Catelyn reminded her daughter. Lyandra forced a smile and nodded. She might be a Targaryen now, but the blood of winter would forever flow through her veins.

"You spoil him."

Aegon shook his head as he entered the room he shared with his wife, watching as Lyandra sat cross-legged on the bed with Valerys in her lap. The baby was sucking on his fist, and looked up excitedly at the sound of his father's voice. Lyandra kissed the top of their son's head, picking him up and putting him in his cot. Aegon walked over and put his arms around his wife's waist from behind, looking down at their son.

A golden crown now adorned Aegon's silver hair, marking him as King of Westeros. The ceremony had been huge, and most of the houses of Westeros had been in attendance – save the Lannisters, of course. Many were eager to wish their new King well, not having forgotten the tyranny of Joffrey's reign. Lyandra was pleasantly surprised at the reaction Aegon's coronation had had.

"Do you think he would be proud?" Lyandra murmured, and they both knew that she was talking about Robb. Despite all that had happened throughout the past few weeks, her mind often dwelled on her older brother, and the impact his death had had. In some ways, Robb's death had won them the war – but she would give anything for him to be here right now.

"I think he would," Aegon replied, "Of both of us."

Lyandra gently drew away from her husband, walking outside to stand on the balcony and overlook King's Landing. Once again, the Targaryens were in power – but Aegon did not rule through fear, rather through gaining the respect of his people. Despite the fact that he had executed Tywin and Cersei by his own sword – an event Lyandra remembered with great clarity – the people of Westeros did not seem to hold that against him.

She closed her eyes and felt the warmth against her skin, the heat she had never experienced in Winterfell. In time, Lyandra knew she would grow accustomed to it. As Westeros's Queen, she would have to. Glancing over her shoulder at Aegon, who was still watching their son in his cot, she knew that despite many seeing him taking her maidenhead as a mistake, it had been the best mistake she had ever made. Lyandra looked back and had no regrets about her time spent with Aegon, and doubted she would encounter any as long as she lived.