This is a good sign, having a broken heart. It means we have tried for something.
'I crown you Queen Vysenera Targaryen-Velaryon, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, Lady of Dragonstone, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons.'
Vysenera turns around, her red eyes surveying everyone that has come to watch her coronation. It is a bittersweet feeling, since she had never wanted to be queen.
That had been Daenerys' dream.
But she is long gone now. As is Manaerys. And Jon.
Vysenera is all that remains.
Her mouth forms into a tight and thin line, but her eyes soften a bit when she sees Sansa, Bran and Arya standing at the front.
They give her some of the strength she so desperately needs.
All Vysenera wants to do is fall to the ground and scream and sob for everyone that has been taken from her so brutally.
But that is not an option. She has someone else to think about now.
Vysenera takes a shuddering breath, her ringed and jewelled hands gripping the Iron Throne hard, the only thing grounding her at the moment.
'You will be queen now, Daenerys.' Vysenera whispers as they look at the burning battlefield outside of King's Landing.
It had been a bloody battle, unnecessary lives lost on both sides. But Cersei had refused to give in.
Even though Daenerys was carrying the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, Cersei still refused.
But she was gone now. As was the Kingslayer. Dead because she was too prideful to accept she had lost, dragging her brother, who had been desperate to save her, with her into death's awaiting arms.
'I suppose.' Daenerys murmurs, her tired eyes looking but not seeing. A frown mars Vysenera's face.
Since Jon's passing, Daenerys has not been the same. It seems as if her reason for living has died with the man she loved.
Not even Drogon has been able to pull his mother out of it.
'Do not give up now, Daenerys. You have a child to think about.'
Vysenera clutches the necklace in the form of a dragonclaw, one of the few things she has kept of Daenerys. Manaerys' pin is secured in the intricate braided patterns in her hair.
So it feels as if they are here with her.
'Come on, Dany! One more!' Vysenera encourages, her fingers having lost all their feeling hours ago. But her niece needs her, now more than ever.
Daenerys is completely exhausted, her hair matted with sweat and clinging to her forehead. The midwives helping them are getting increasingly worried, the blood that is pooling around Daenerys not a good sign. The sheets around her and underneath her are soaked with blood, but Vysenera does not want to think about what this means.
'I can't, Vysenera. I can't!' Daenerys groans, her voice cracking with exhaustion and pain. Vysenera dabs her niece's head with a wet cloth, squeezing her niece's fingers with renewed courage.
'I am here.' Vysenera whispers. 'You are not alone.'
Daenerys lets out a pained cry, but she strains again, pushing her body to the very limit one last time.
A silence follows as Daenerys lies back, shivering weakly.
'It is a girl!' A midwife calls out, as a baby's cries fill the room. Vysenera takes the baby from the midwife, placing her in Daenerys' waiting arms.
A weak smile appears on Dany's face, a tear sliding from her eye.
'She looks like John.' Vysenera shakes her head, hugging her niece fiercely.
'No, she looks like both of you.'
Vysenera's gaze falls on the slumbering baby that lies in Missandei's arms, her friend giving her a sad smile.
She has become an aunt, but at an much too elevated prize.
'Take care of her for me, Vysenera.' Dany's tired voice whispers, a chill wracking Vysenera's frame at what it implies.
The baby is slumbering right now, not a clue of what is going on. 'Dany?' Vysenera whispers, the fear that is wrapping around her heart making her feel as if icecold water has been thrown over her.
Daenerys' eyes are open, but the light in them is lost. A peaceful smile is all that is left on the khaleesi's lips, and than Vysenera understands her niece's battle has ended.
She hears a heartwrenching roar, Drogon whining and roaring in the air above the keep, making it seem as if the ground itself is shaking.
Missandei gasps, the woman falling to her knees as she starts sobbing uncontrollably. Vysenera feels a few tears falling from her eyes, a sad smile on her lips as she closes her niece's eyes.
'I will take care of her. Rest now, Dany. Seven Gods know you deserve it.'
Vysenera steels her nerves one more time, as she locks all her emotions away but it is all too clear to everyone in the room. She is heartbroken, thrust into a role she does not want.
Chasing a dream which was never hers to begin with. But she owes it to the babygirl sleeping in Missandei's arms.
Their new queen's eyes are completely red and suspiciously wet, the bags underneath her eyes showing how much she really is struggling.
'All hail the queen!'
Vysenera looks out of the window, Rhaegal and Drogon flying by the Red Keep, their sad but fierce roars going over the voices in the throneroom. And through it all, she is so very glad she at least still has her son and his brother, the only ones remaining of their once beloved family.
They have won, but at a too high price. Too many lives were lost, and it does not make this day any easier.
It does not.
Vysenera stands up, dress billowing around her, hands folded tightly in front of her, eyes fixated on a point in the distance, a frown marring her face as her lips start trembling slightly once more, doing her best not to start crying again.
Heavy is the head that wears the crown indeed.