A/N: Hi everyone. Glad y'all are here for another exciting installment :D
Enjoy and please comment :D
Chapter 60: From the Cradle
"Come on, muna!" The darkness that enveloped Rhaella exploded into a vivid color, blinding sunlight forcing her to blink frantically. An insistent grip tugged her forward. "Something the matter? You're always eager to fly with me." The voice was young, feminine, but Rhaella couldn't see who it was as her eyes still adjusted to the bright light.
"At least you can ride with her," another young woman said from behind them, making Rhaella's mind whirr. She sounded just like Jaime… only a female version. "Mine is still too young."
A merry laugh. "Enjoy those times when they last, sister. Right, muna?"
Finally Rhaella caught a glimpse of the insistent young woman. A short, graceful girl, pale Valyrian beauty more than evident in her sparkling violet eyes and silver curls. Her outfit was that of a horseman, but well-tailored and in the red and black of House Targaryen. "Yes…" Deep in her heart, she knew this was her daughter. "Daenerys. You are right."
"I suppose I shall be patient." The other was slightly taller than the first, but even more graceful - almost a wisp of a thing, her blonde locks framed a familiar face. Jaime's cheekbones and nose, only softer. But inlaid in her face were two lavender eyes - pure Targaryen. Rhaella's mind spun.
"They're here!" Suddenly Rhaella realized she was in the dragonpit, the ruined structure restored to its former glory… covered in a great shadow that descended towards them with an immense roar. One that filled her with strength and fire…
"Muna… muna!"
Sheen of sweat covering her forehead, Rhaella's eyes opened with a flutter. Gone was the magnificent vision of a dragonpit drenched in color and majesty. Gone were her beautiful daughters… instead was the gentle firelight of her chambers. The weight of several thick blankets draped atop her comfortingly, while standing beside her bedside with his hands holding hers… "Rhaegar!" She tried to rise, only for a dull ache in her stomach to send her toppling back.
Rhaegar was easing her gently back atop the pillows. "Gods, muna. Don't try to move too much while you rest."
She nodded, but opened her arms. "My son." Even the mighty Rhaegar Targaryen couldn't resist his mother's embrace, falling into it with a tremble. Tears pricked at Rhaella's eyes. "My boy… my handsome dragon. I was so worried."
The weight of moons of war and stress evaporated in his mother's arms. A feeling he sometimes felt embarrassed in still succumbing to, but one Rhaegar would never give up if he could help it. "I wish I could tell you your worries were unfounded, but I can't." Reluctantly, he pulled back, still squeezing her hand. "But yes, I'm alive and unharmed."
Staring at her perfect Targaryen King of a son, memories began flooding back to Rhaella. "You really hatched a dragon? Truly?"
Rhaegar chuckled, motioning to a table where the tiny creature - Aegarax - slumbered. "Not much to look at, but the might of House Targaryen returned."
"I'm so proud of you, Rhaegar." She reached up to cup his cheek. "A mother couldn't ask for a better son." A moment passed before her eyes widened, heart starting to beat out of her chest in a sudden apprehension. "Rhaegar… where is…?" She couldn't finish. "Is she…?"
Rising from his seat, Rhaegar padded over to a… was that a bassinet in her chambers. Out of it he scooped a tiny, wriggling bundle, and in an instant warmth truly returned to Rhaella's world. "Here she is." He brushed a gentle finger against his newborn sister's cheek, incredibly small in his large arms. "A perfectly healthy dragon princess."
The tears were unavoidable, Rhaella sniffling among soft sobs as Rhaegar slowly deposited the little babe in her hold. "Daenerys…" She ignored the aches in her abdomen, cuddling the beautiful babe to her chest and pressing her cheek against the tufts of silver hair that crowned her flushed face. "You're perfect. My perfect little hatchling." Already Rhaella knew this was the first of the girls from her dream, and already she would give her life to protect her.
Watching with a heartfelt smile of his own, Rhaegar chuckled. "Daenerys?"
Rhaella nodded, her heart bursting with love for her daughter. "After the Old King's first, the most beloved of his children, a ray of sunshine in an otherwise dark world." She pressed a kiss to Daenerys' cheek, drawing a coo from the infant Princess. "But she won't share the same fate. Not if I have anything to say about it."
"Nor I."
Looking up, Rhaella's eyes sparkled. "And I have a new grandson as well." The gods had seen fit to reward her with such wonder. "They'll grow up together." Somehow it all felt right.
In giving his life, her brother had allowed happiness to rise from the ashes as would a phoenix.
There was a knock on the door. "Your Grace." The voice was unfamiliar to Rhaella. "Ser Jaime Lannister wishes to speak with the Queen."
Rhaegar's brows furrowed. "The Queen is recovering from her childbirth, Thorne," he shouted back, voice authoritative. "Tell Ser Jaime that he can visit her later…"
"Let him in, Rhaegar."
Cut off mid-sentence, Rhaegar looked to his mother in surprise. "You truly wish to see him, muna?" Surely there were more important things for his mother to deal with than the perplexing headache of what Jaime 'the Kingslayer' had done - can someone be more foolish or more honorable than he?
Biting her lip, Rhaella gently rocked Daenerys as she tried to find the plausible words - it wasn't the time or place to tell her son the King of her… indiscretions. But her heart yearned to see Jaime's face. "I need to know why he chose to protect my reputation, my son. Please." She noticed the dark circles under his eyes. "You need rest as well."
Sighing at his mother's… well, motherliness, Rhaegar leaned down to kiss the crown of her head - and the same to Daenerys. "I'll see you on the morrow, muna." Scooping the still sleeping Aegarax in his arms, the dragon sleepily nuzzled his bicep as he made his way out. "Ser Jaime," Rhaella heard him say.
"Your Grace."
There was a tense silence that drew Rhaella's worry. "Thank you," she finally sighed in relief at her son's answer. "For protecting her."
"It was my oath. I'd die for the Queen." Rhaella's heart skipped a beat - an altogether different affection for Jaime than for Daenerys filling her. Soon after, the door closed behind the Lannister knight as he entered. He was dressed down in a tunic and breeches, but still wore his heavy boots and sword. No words passed as they stared at one another. He looks so handsome. Not just that, though. "Is that the Princess?" he finally broke the silence.
Rhaella nodded, gently setting Daenerys in the crook of her arm. "Jaime."
The single plea was enough to break him, and in an instant he was kneeling by the bedside, arms thrown around her much as Rhaegar had. Except unlike her son, Rhaella felt his mouth search out hers. Lips tangled together in a mutual kiss. For the first time since this all started, not a trickle of shame at her greedy claiming of this knight came from her.
Daenerys' whimpers broke the kiss, Jaime snickering sheepishly while Rhaella reached back for her daughter. Calming her with a close hold. "Why did you do it, Jaime?" The question she had wished to ask since seeing him. "Why… how could you destroy yourself like this?" It sounded angry, but inside Rhaella's heart broke. Agony for how Jaime had thrown so much away.
He, however, merely shrugged. "I would think it obvious, Rhaella."
Rhaella… Her name sounded so wonderful coming from him. Said as if the name of a goddess. "You gave up your honor, your standing as a knight." She reached out for him. "Your oath was to protect the King."
"Rhaegar is my King," was the reply.
"Be serious, Jaime. I killed Aerys. It is I that deserves the consequence."
But he shook his head. "Not while I still breathe will I let anyone harm you, Rhaella. If I have to slaughter all of the Red Keep to protect you, I will." He cupped her cheeks, relishing in the intimacy. "I love you, my Queen."
There it was again. The gentle confession of Joanna's son, professing not lust but undying affection. Everlasting adoration. Things Rhaella had never known in her life in such a sense, but after all that befell the Queen dowager… a sudden fire filled her. A passion to claim what she wanted, damn all the consequences.
And she wanted Jaime. "I love you too, my protector. My lion."
Never before did she ever see him as happy as he looked in that moment. Careful of the sleeping babe, Jaime kissed her again, this one slow and loving.
Eventually it broke, the two of them resting their foreheads on the other. "This will be hard, Jaime," she breathed.
"Aye," he replied. "I'd rather not face his Grace's wrath just yet."
"There's so much going against us."
"If Arthur and Dacey worked it out, we should too."
She snorted. "I doubt such is a similar situation."
"True… Dacey can swing a mace."
Frowning wryly, Rhaella shook his head. "You're just like your mother. The Lady of Snark - Tywin never japed but she couldn't help herself."
He grinned. "I'll take that as a compliment."
Rolling her eyes, Rhaella glanced back down at Daenerys. Kissing her brow, never feeling as blessed as this moment. Perhaps House Targaryen would finally know peace.
"Still surreal… you on this throne," Ned mused, arms crossed and a smirk on his face. "Never thought my goodbrother would be the fucking King."
Rhaegar sighed. "Been raised as the Crown Prince all my life and I still can't believe it." Blackfyre out, he gently cleaned it, gazing out at the cavernous hall. "This does truly calm a person."
Ned nodded. "I know you love your harp, but if you play that you'll just attract more women… and I do not think my sister would like that."
"Your sister would be too entranced by me on the Iron Throne, I believe." From the appreciative glint in his eye, it was obvious what Rhaegar spoke of.
"Please… that is not something I wish to speak of in regards to Lya." He shuddered, eager to change the subject. "I have news from Winterfell. I'm the father of a healthy baby girl."
Looking up, Rhaegar thumped his shoulder. "Congratulations, brother. Name?"
He couldn't help the soft smile on his face. "Not sure yet… have to see her first." He hadn't even met his daughter and she already was the joy of his life… same as all of his kids were for Rhaegar.
"Good choice. I hope for her, Jon, and Daenerys to be close growing up."
"Agreed."
An echo rang out as the side doors opened, Ser Lewyn entering along with a smaller figure. "Your Grace, Prince Viserys as you requested."
"I'll be off, then. Good luck," Ned told him, walking out along with Ser Lewyn. Just leaving Rhaegar and his younger brother in the Throne Room.
Staring at each other, neither said a word. Viserys averted his gaze for the longest time, while Rhaegar studied him in return… his heart breaking at what he was seeing. Once lively and sweet, all had bled out of Viserys. In its wake was a quiet, sullen child with a perpetual glower. An inner rage practically simmering underneath his skin.
He reminded Rhaegar of their father just as the paranoia began to take over him, and such made the Sunrise Dragon's heart clench in agony. "Brother," he called out. "Come here… I'm glad you're unharmed…"
"Kepa made me heir."
Rhaegar blinked. "What?"
Finally, the Prince's eyes met Rhaegar's. A dark, fiery glint in them. "You declared your intent to usurp him as Daemon Blackfyre did to his brother, and therefore he made me the heir." Viserys pointed at the throne. "It belongs to me. Get off."
Rising, Rhaegar proceeded down half the steps before easing himself to sit. Patting the side for Viserys to join him - and to his surprise he did. "Vis… our kepa suffered from demons in his mind. It drove him to atrocity, but that didn't mean he didn't love us. However, the people around him used his demons to try and destroy everything I ever cared about. I had no choice and for muna's sake I hope you understand…"
"Don't bring muna up! You were gone! You didn't see how she suffered." He was shaking. "How could you betray our family!" Viserys shot up, trembling with the sudden anger unable for many moons to be expressed. "Gods… father needed your loyalty and you betrayed him! You took up arms against him!"
Rhaegar stood as well, looking down on his young brother… searching for something of the innocent boy that he had been before. "Kepa left me no choice, Viserys. When you have a family of your own you'll understand." He placed his hand on his brother's shoulder, only for it to be wrenched away - that hurt, but he continued. "A dragon protects its clutch, and its mates."
Viserys' violet eyes blazed fury, something once seen in Aerys… it made Rhaegar pitch back a step from the shock of it. "And there it is, brother," spat the young Prince. "They were more important than your House. Than kepa! A Direwolf and a Viper over the dragon that needed you! Kepa collapsed into torment because of you!"
"Brother, that's not true…"
But Viserys didn't stop, unleashing the urge to scream at his brother. To unload the vilest things that he had ever heard or thought. "At least I know the cunt of a Dornish bitch and a Northern slut is more important to you than muna or kepa or I ever were."
Before he could stop himself, Rhaegar's arm shot out, backhanding his brother right in the cheek. Trembling himself with the sudden ire at his brother, patience broken. But the sight of Viserys, a flash of helplessness in his eyes, calmed Rhaegar down. "Brother… I'm sorry." The fear disappeared, anger returning. "Let me…" He extended his hand.
Only for Viserys to slap it away. "I don't need your fucking help! Traitor!" All he endured from Aerys' collapse into madness… had Rhaegar not risen up, their family could have been whole. Free of the conniving of Martells and Starks and Lannisters determined to tear the House of the Dragon apart.
Breathing deeply, Rhaegar pressed a frown. "Regardless of what you think, I am the King now. My brides are the Queens, and you are a Prince behind the line of succession of your nephews. It is time you accept that reality or else the only one that will suffer is yourself… and mother." He reached down and yanked Viserys to his feet, uncaring of his discomfort. "I expect you in muna's chambers for dinner. You are to meet your sister Daenerys, and if you aren't on your best behavior I will lock you in your room for the week." He stormed out of the Great Hall, muttering curses in High Valyrian.
Left alone in the cavernous chamber built by Maegor the Cruel, Viserys screamed at the top of his lungs. Kicking at the marble steps… ignoring how they made his toes throb in agony. "This is mine! I was loyal!" he screeched. "I loved kepa and muna more than that traitor!" He kicked it again, only now feeling the ache with a wince.
Staring up at the Iron Throne with a sudden clarity, Viserys rose up the steps. He ran his hands along the throne of swords… a throne of so many great Targaryen Kings before him, ending in the reign of his father, betrayed by so many. Why Rhaegar… we could have been a strong family… we could have saved father from the backstabbers.
But he betrayed their house.
Their father made him the heir. By all rights it should be him on the Iron Throne.
Deciding to try it out, Viserys sat upon it. He gazed out at the majesty of the hall, imagining making his father proud… until an ancient blade off the field of fire pricked his hand.
"Please spare Jaime."
Rhaegar sighed. "Many are demanding his head for breaking his oath… or at least that's how Ser Jaime made it out to be."
Reaching out to take her son's hand, Rhaella pleaded with her gaze. "My son… Jaime was… is protecting me. He did this for me, I can't let him suffer for my sins."
"They weren't your sins. You were saving me from father's madness." The entire ordeal still seemed like a blur to the King, speaking to his mother privately about it for the first time. Considering what was about to be done, no time was better than the present as they descended the steps beyond the gardens. "But I gather he didn't wish you to be known as a Kinslayer… Lord Tywin offered to take him back to the Westerlands to be his heir. Perhaps that…"
She shook her head. "There is no one more honorable than Jaime Lannister." It may have been selfish, but Rhaella wanted him beside her. She loved him, and he her. "I cannot think of a better Kingsguard that I would trust with my life."
Heeding his mother's please, Rhaegar nodded. "I'll think about it." Gods, if it hadn't been for his mother in the chaos of the last few weeks since the death of his father… Targaryens past had suffered neglecting their Queens. Relegating them to mere broodmares as Robert would have done Lyanna. His mother was smart, decisive in her new form… Rhaegar wanted her on his council and to do with his brides what Aerys failed to do with his. Once they return… I'll tell them.
The beach below Aegon's High Hill was deserted this time of night. No patrols, no smallfolk braving the King's private domain to fish the waters and bring fresh food to their families. Just the haunting sliver of the crescent moon, casting whatever small amount of light it could. Joined with the torches and lanterns to illuminate the four Kingsguards preparing the modest pyre on the sand.
"Are you alright with this, muna?" Rhaegar asked, ever dutiful and caring.
Rhaella bit her lip, but nodded nonetheless. "Aye, he was my brother and all I had left of your grandparents… and the sweet boy I grew up with was there at the end." Looking at Ser Lewyn and Ser Oswell gently lower the stretcher holding Aerys Targaryen's body upon the pyre, an errant tear welled in her eye.
Rhaegar noticed, sweeping her in a gentle embrace. "I know. Gods, I know…"
"What if that was really him, Rhaegar?" She rested her cheek on her son's strong shoulders.
"What do you mean?"
"The visions you've had, the dreams I've had… Aegarax…" The dragon's head poked up from the other shoulder at the mention of his name, only to chirp and fly down to the beach. "The gods are active, Rhaegar, so what if your father… had darkness consume him?"
Rhaegar blinked, pulling back to look at his mother. "You mean the gods caused his madness?" It didn't sound implausible, and created many implications that broke his heart. "Stranger things have happened, muna."
"He was my sweet brother underneath it all… he was…" She sobbed softly, seeking the embrace of her son. They simply held each other atop the stairs, swaying softly in the breeze wafting off the bay.
A true Targaryen Queen, Rhaella's tears didn't last long before she recovered her composure. With her son's arm round her shoulder, the two of them walked slowly down the stairs till their boots pressed against the sand - easing their way towards the pyre. At their approach the Kingsguards all stood still, legs spread and hands behind their back. Viserys stood off to the side, Aegarax climbing over his chest. He seemed… calmer, offering Rhaegar only a silent stare but his mother the tiniest of smiles that eased the torment of her soul.
When her eyes met Jaime's, the love in his greens filled her with warmth. It took all of the Dowager Queen not to rush to him - lock their lips together. It was still so new and they hadn't laid together since that one night, but gods did she want to.
"Is everything ready?" the King asked, bringing his mother out of her prurient thoughts - for the briefest of moments, Jaime had drawn her out of her grief and she loved him for it.
Ser Barristan nodded. "Aye, your Grace. We've spread the pitch and tar around the body as requested." It would cause a quicker burn.
Rhaegar nodded. "Good." He looked to Viserys. "Brother, wish to say something?" Wide eyes staring at him, Viserys merely stepped towards their father, whispering something inaudible as if confiding in the late King. Rhaegar gave him his moment, then turned to Rhaella when Viserys stepped back. "Muna?"
Steeling herself, Rhaella approached the body of her brother. Dreadfully pale, but face serene in death. The same look as he held as the gentle child that would sneak pastries for her from the kitchens, not the monster that brutalized her. "Take care, brother," she finally murmured. "I shall strive to remember the good man that you were deep down." The gentle hand of Rhaegar on her shoulder brought her back, reaching out to hold Viserys to her side.
Which only left Rhaegar, gazing down at his father. "I tried… to be a dutiful son. Perhaps had… had the darkness not destroyed it all, things would have been different." Reaching down, he squeezed the stiff, cold hand. "Goodbye father - in spite of it all, I did love you and know you loved me." Landing atop his shoulder, Aegarax peered at his kepa. "Dracarys."
Out of Aegarax's maw released a solid jet of flame. Enough to catch the pitch-soaked wood in proper flames, spreading rapidly across the entire pyre and engulfing Aerys II Targaryen's body. Rhaegar eased back next to his mother, the two of them standing tall and letting the heat of the fire bathe them. Viserys shivered, burying his face in his mother's dress, while the Kingsguards removed their helms.
Tongues of fire reaching out into the dark night, it paled in comparison to the great pyres of King Aegon I or Jaehaerys I that stabbed at the sky the height of the largest of buildings. No mourning throngs of people tens of thousands in number. But The funeral of a Valyrian dragonlord nonetheless, mourned by those that cared for him.
The dark spirit watched from the cliff face, tendrils of black smoke hidden in the shadows. Aerys was far too weak to achieve his purpose… "Perhaps I need to destroy her champion from within."
Visenya's Square, overlooked by the bulk of the Great Sept of Baelor - a monument to some and a monstrosity to others - had been the site for the most amazing of events. The Wedding of Daeron II and Myriah Martell. The coronation of Aegon V. The Wedding of Rhaegar Targaryen and both Elia Martell and Lyanna Stark at different times. Only now, such wonderful occasions were sundered by the solemnity of what had to be done.
The execution of the traitors, all condemned by the King's justice in the matter of one day. Standing there in his armored finery, Aegarax upon his shoulder as was the norm, Rhaegar had wished for the coronation first - but it had to happen now. "Best get it over with," both Ned and Tywin advised. It was smart he had to say, the agreement of his mother being the one that set him over the top on the decision.
As such, two platforms were hastily erected along with a dias for the royal observers - one set higher than the other. Below, he could see his mother leave her wheelhouse, holding Daenerys in her arms and with the sullen Viserys trailing. Behind were Doran and Oberyn Martell, rounding off the observers he allowed on his dias. "Mother," Rhaegar greeted, kissing her cheek. "Dany." He smiled softly, kissing the tiny cheek. "Viserys." The boy just stared at him, eyes hard.
Hands clasped together, hidden under the sleeves of her maroon cloak, the Lady Melisandre gingerly stepped atop the smaller platform - separated by a waist's length from the pyres. She slowly removed the cowl over her head, showing off the fire-red hair. She looked otherworldly, which was part of her mystique. Emblazoned on the back of her cloak were the black lines of Old Valyria. The same symbol that brought victory upon the fields of Stony Sept. The new call of her Lord, and of her King.
"My Lady," said Alliser Thorne, approaching her. "Everything is ready."
She nodded, the tiny ghost of a smile on her perfect lips not leaving. "Bring them out, then." Thorne nodded, gesturing in the distance.
At the edge of the courtyard rested dozens of prisoner wagons, each containing six condemned. Targaryen household guards marched with them, swords drawn and at the ready while crossbowmen watched from hastily erected guardtowers. Unlike the defected goldcloaks there for crowd control, the Sunrise Dragon made no risk here.
"How did you select them?" Rhaella asked her son, gently rocking Daenerys in her arms - hoping she'd stay asleep.
"Was decided long ago," the Lord of Casterly Rock answered. "The mere military commanders will be pardoned after paying a ransom price, while those that committed… atrocities against innocent parties will be given the King's Justice."
Rhaegar exhaled, frosty as he watched a line of goldcloaks stripped of their ranks and sentenced to death march slowly towards their ultimate fate. "Rapists, murderers, thieves. Anyone who obeyed the vile orders of Connington or my father."
Holding tight to Dany, Rhaella surreptitiously squeezed one of Rhaegar's fingers, giving him as much comfort as she could. "Is House Stark happy?"
"Happy?" Ned asked the Dowager Queen. "Happy is having my brother and father alive… but I am content."
"Honest answer, Lord Eddard." She bounced Dany gently. "Your sister comes from good stock."
"We are proud of our line… and now it shall include dragonlords. My father is probably content as well, wherever he may be within the afterlife."
Slowly did the men walk up to the first platform, resigned to their fates as more Household Guards pressed them with their spears. Melisandre watched with her piercing red eyes. They were… greatly unsettling even to Thorne, though he had time to get used to her. Everyone in Rhaegar's army knew of the Red Priestess, spiritual advisor to the Sunrise Dragon.
The most pious of the Faithful didn't like it, but no one doubted Rhaegar's connection to the magic of the gods. Something truly unseen since the demise of the dragons.
Looking up at the dias where her King waited, at Rhaegar's nod Melisandre held up her hands. "People of King's Landing." Whatever hushed murmurs or whispers that rippled through the crowd all ended as the Priestess spoke. "By the will of the divine, victory has passed for Rhaegar of House Targaryen, First of His Name. Not only has he earned the throne of his ancestors, but through the power of his blood and his will he has hatched dragons from the stone. He is the Sunrise Dragon, and as his first act as your King he shall proclaim justice against the evildoers."
"Burning?" Rhaella observed.
A snort from Oberyn. "How ironic. They served the burner, and yet their deaths shall be in fire."
It should be Connington that burns. But he, the Darry brothers, and many other knights had already fled. The justice today would only be partial.
As the prisoners had their hands and feet bound to the staves by the guardsmen, the doors to the Great Sept of Baelor opened with a groaning flourish that echoed through the quiet winter's air. Out emerged the rotund form of the High Septon in his ceremonial robes and clear crystal crown, folds of fat jostling as he proceeded down the steps of the Holy Temple towards Visenya's Square. Around him were representatives of the Most Devout in their finery, cloth-of-silver robes and crystal coronets of all colors radiating majesty. They surrounded themselves by an oval of septons and Silent Sisters dressed far more modestly - the former swinging decanters of smoking incense and singing holy chants while the latter had their heads bowed and their grey cowls shrouding their faces.
For the onlookers lining the steps close to the statue of Baelor the Blessed, they bowed as the procession journeyed towards the executioner's platform. Granting their holy men the deference normally only fit for a King.
Ned curled his lips in distaste. "Did you invite them here?" he asked his goodbrother.
"No," Rhaegar replied, Aegarax hissing quietly atop his shoulder - sensing his father's discomfort. "I specifically told them their services wouldn't be required today."
Doran snorted, leaning harder on his cane. "Such open defiance… not a good omen for one's reign being so young. Especially since your victory at the Trial of Seven."
Such did puzzle Rhaegar, but his mother leaned to him. "They defy you because of your dragon." Glancing back at the procession, Rhaegar studied them. While the High Septon basked in the adoration of the crowd and the Silent Sisters said nothing, the septons often sent wary glances in his direction - the Most Devout, cunning as they were, couldn't hold back their contemptuous looks. "They sought the destruction of our House… with our power restored, they may try again."
Narrowing his eyes, Rhaegar felt the anger burning through him. He spared the city grief by burning his father privately, while the Most Devout turned the execution of rapists and murderers into a show of piety and forgiveness. At that moment he understood the ruthlessness of Maegor I.
Reaching the bottom of the steps, the High Septon caught his breath - smoothing the silk robe over his corpulent frame. Gold and jewel-bound copy of the Seven Pointed Star in hand, he looked among the crowd. "Children of the Seven!" He caught their attention with a breathless silence. "Look upon these poor souls and…"
"Stop!" Wordless gasps filled the crowd, while the High Septon sputtered in mid-sentence. Eyes of even the Silent Sisters shifted to the King. Dragon leaping off his shoulder to the railing with an angry shriek, the violet eyes of Rhaegar Targaryen burned just as brightly. "What are you doing?!"
"We…" The High Septon seemed at a loss for words. "We come to bless the souls… of these poor sinners. Place them in the hands of the Stranger with the holy book of Hugor of the Hill and the holy motherland of Andalos."
"Put the holy book back in its place!" commanded the King. "You disgrace the memory of Andalos by corrupting their icons with these… filth." He gestured contemptuously at the prisoners. "I did not invite you here nor do I want you. Begone!"
This shocked the High Septon to his core. As such, it was a young member of the Most Devout - recently promoted from Riverrun to the Starry Sept - that replied. "Have you lost all respect?" he spat, "For the Seven Who Are One?! Do you reclaim the crimes and blasphemies of your ancestors?!" Another shriek from Aegarax, the dragon's tiny maw glowing, shut him up.
Within his head, blasting through the wall of rage and fire that Rhaegar felt at the direct challenge… in wafted the gentle voice of his guardian maiden. Remember who you are, Rhaegar Targaryen… remember your line. You are the descendent of dragons, of conquerors… answer not to gods or men.
What did he, a dragonlord of Old Valyria, have to answer for with the religious leadership of the Andals? He needed not defend himself… Rhaegar needed not prostrate before the Most Devout. "It may be that I have more respect for the Seven Who Are One. That I the Sunrise Dragon was granted their favor in a Trial under their auspices. You lesser men spit in their faces as you do the entire realm!"
Through the clouds, the sun seemed to poke through and shine upon Rhaegar… perhaps a coincidence, but one that drew the wonderment of the crowd. But the King cared not, pointing at the condemned. "These sinners! I will execute them for their evil thoughts and evil deeds! Their repentance will be lies, and I therefore will not sully the Seven with them." Aegarax… dracarys! Hooting, the emerald dragon vaulted into the air, circling around like a small demon. "Let the Stranger take them to the deepest of the Seven Hells!"
Timed perfectly, Aegarax carried out his order. Much larger puffs of flame than he had ignited before lanced towards each of the pyres of wood. Dragonfire catching the dried kindling powerfully, spreading fast to engulf the condemned goldcloaks in the King's Justice. Screams filling Visenya's Square, the crowd flinching while the Most Devout traced the seven-sided star upon their chests in piety.
Melisandre instead curled her lips into a smile, raising her hands out in proclamation. "The night is dark and full of terrors! Let the light of the Lord's chosen dragon banish it for eternity!"
Though the screams of the dying still echoed across Visenya's square, already the guards brought forth the next batch of prisoners… twelve of them, trudging up the wooden steps to the shorter platform. Twelve blocks rested at knee height, and at Thorne's command they were shoved at their knees - heads face down. Without a sound marched a line of men carrying axes to each condemned. Each raised their axe at the same time.
At the loud thunk, the High Septon blanched, pale from shock and squeamishness. "Get his Eminence inside," commanded one of the Most Devout.
"The bodies… send the Silent Sisters…" he mumbled as three septons began hauling him back into the sept, passing the line of hooded servants of the Seven that attempted to walk down the steps towards the headless corpses… only to be stopped by the guards.
"Let them pass," hissed a septon.
Rhaegar heard. "Those monsters do not deserve the touch of the gods. Let them rot." Slowly, reluctantly did the Silent Sisters pull back as another group headed for the blocks - this one of highborns. Glancing at his mother, Rhaegar saw the Dowager Queen more concerned for Dany than unsettled, she was rather calm. Viserys, however, looked… angry. "What bothers you, brother?"
The boy bordering on eight namedays looked up, eyes narrowed and scowling petulantly. "Would you yourself kill these men, who only served loyally for their King?"
A small chuckle came from the throat of Doran Martell. "If a King cannot kill a traitor, then is he truly a strong King? As your northerners say, Lord Stark 'He who passes the sentence must swing the sword.'"
"Quiet, Prince Doran," Rhaella hissed before turning to her second son. "Do not say things you do not understand, Viserys."
"Stop, muna. He's nothing like father. He's weak." The boy was defiant. "Weak and disloyal."
Something snapped in Rhaegar. Stiffening, he grabbed Viserys by the collar of his cloak and dragged him off the dias. Earning little more than a quiet yelp from Rhaella as Ned and Ser Barristan followed their King towards the execution platform.
Almost shoving Viserys down onto the cobblestones of the courtyard, Rhaegar glared at his brother. "Stay there until it's over. It's time you see what a real dragon is." I tried to be patient, but Viserys needs to know what happens to true traitors and sadists. "Keep him here," he ordered Ser Barristan.
"Yes, your Grace."
Ascending the steps without a second thought, the guards bowed, giving him a wide berth. "Sire?" Alliser Thorne asked, his real question not needing to be said.
Rhaegar didn't answer yet, calmly removing his gloves even as his lips were set in a rather frightening scowl. He tossed them at his young brother below the platform, Viserys catching them while staring dumbly. Above on the higher platform, the fires were just dying out - revealing charred bodies that gave off wisps of acrid smoke. Rhaegar ignored them. "He who passes the sentence must swing the sword, Ser Alliser."
He nodded. "Step aside for the King!" Thorne ordered the other executioners, who were more than glad to comply - awed by the Sunrise Dragon.
"Let your sword be the instrument of R'hllor," Melisandre told him, murmuring some other incantation under her breath in High Valyrian that Rhaegar didn't catch. "The King shall invoke his justice personally," she announced to the crowd. "With great mercy comes grievous punishment if one betrays he ordained by the divine."
Drawing Blackfyre from its sheath, Rhaegar let the fine steel shine in the sunlight. All in the crowd catching a glimpse of the sword of Aegon the Conqueror. The sword that brought justice to the Warrior's Sons in Maegor's Trial of Seven. The sword that helped bring dragons back into the world. Twirling it into a two-handed position, Rhaegar readied it on the first Highborn condemned. "Lord Darry," he remarked dryly.
The defeated Lord - once a faithful supporter - looked up at him, completely resigned to his fate.
In one move, Rhaegar raised Blackfyre and brought it shrieking down upon Lord Darry's neck.
Aegarax hooted loudly from his perch. Some in the crowd cheered at the head rolling on the wood, while others flinched - most staring blankly. The Most Devout again made the sign of the Seven, while Rhaella watched in pride of her son. Ned looked on in approval as well. No northman would deny Rhaegar's greatness after this day.
Sandwiched between Barristan and Ned, a splatter of crimson sprinkled on his face. In his open mouth. Even witnessing so many burnings, so much torture at the command of his father, seeing his brother - the Sunrise Dragon - actually decapitate someone not feet away from him overcame Viserys. He pitched over, voiding his stomach upon the cobblestones. Throat on fire and hot flecks of vomit on his lips and chin. He shivered in the cold, Barristan's tight grip making sure he couldn't run away.
One by one, Rhaegar walked down the gathered prisoners. Some were stoic and quiet such as Manly Stokeworth or Symond Staunton, while both Lord Merryweather and Grand Maester Pycelle blubbered like children - begging their King for mercy. Rhaegar had none for these savages. Blackfyre swung again and again, dispatching heads from bodies in quick succession, the executioners watching calmly from behind the prisoners. And through all of it, Rhaegar felt nothing but contempt… and fire.
The last of the gathered dozen was a special prisoner. Delivered from Dorne, he was far younger - barely old enough to shave. His face and shoulders were covered in the bruises of mistreatment, but one look at his face told Rhaegar it was fully deserved. "Renly Baratheon."
Blue eyes found Rhaegar, defiance still bright. Out of all of them, Renly still had some spirit left. "Cousin," he hissed.
Nevertheless, Rhaegar only saw him as a pathetic victim. It wasn't the young stag he wished in this place. "I know you were manipulated by Connington," he spat out the last. Oberyn told him exactly what Connington did to Renly and it made him all the angrier. "Repent and seek mercy, and I may just give it to you."
No chance. "Robert was right about you." The passions of youth still filled him with fire. "My only regret is that I didn't carve out your hellspawn child from your whore's belly." With that, he closed his eyes, having sealed his fate.
Sucking in a breath, Rhaegar didn't hesitate to raise Blackfyre. With an almost inhuman roar, his arm thundered down - blade an extension of his arm. So enraged was the King, that the blade missed the neck and slammed into Renly's upper body. A sloppy hit, but Valyrian steel so sharp that it still sliced straight through. Knocking off limbs and cleaving through the heart. Showering the King and everything around him in a warm spray of fresh blood.
Viserys vomited again, dry heaves tearing through his abdomen.
Alone.
Fire crackling beneath him, Rhaegar leaned against the mantle of the fireplace. He watched the flames dance and flicker. Blood of the Sunrise Dragon hot in his veins, they calmed him. Eased his heart from the stresses of the day. Aerys was dead, his family was safe, his mother finally happy and the realm finally secure… but threats still remained.
Scores of Lords attained and executed, dozens of keeps empty.
The High Septon affronted and Most Devout alienated even with his victory in the Trial of Seven, fearful of his dragon.
The lack of a Grand Maester, relations with the Citadel not the best.
His brother, hurt and antagonistic… no longer the happy child he had once been.
Angling his head, Rhaegar gazed at Aegarax, curled up atop his desk and resting after the long day. Gently did the green dragon's chest expand and contract with rhythmic breathing. It seemed mad that such a tiny creature would grow into a beast that would make entire Kingdoms tremble, but such was House Targaryen's gift. The source of its power.
A reward from the gods for their greatness. He bent his head again, silently praying to the same goddess that gave him such victory. The one who saved his House and his family. See us through these trials and tribulations, I beg you.
Hearing the click of the latch, Rhaegar expected Ser Oswell to enter with some odd bit of news. But it wasn't Oswell. "Arthur!"
Not having laid eyes on each other for moons, Ser Arthur Dayne bowed. "King Rhaegar, First of His Name," he said formally.
Rhaegar snorted. "Enough of that." Stepping forward, he took Arthur's arm in a tight clasp. Squeezing his forearm while Arthur returned the gesture. "Gods, it's good to see you back, and a father no less," he laughed.
"The gods have blessed me, your Grace," the kingsguard replied. "As they have you, my King."
Squeezing the clasped hand one more time, Rhaegar's gaze became firm. "Where's my family, Arthur?" If he had to wait even another moment…
The patter of racing feet preempted Arthur's answer - the Sword of the Morning casting Rhaegar a hopeful look just as Princess Rhaenys scrambled through the open doorway, hair billowing behind her from her frantic efforts. They paid off at seeing her father. "Kepa!"
Rhaegar pulled almost violently away from Arthur as he fell to one knee. Arms closing around his daughter as she leapt into his embrace. "My sweetling." He rose, cradling Rhaenys as close as he could.
Her small frame shook with sobs. "I missed you, kepa." Rhaenys held him tighter. "Never leave again."
"Never, I promise." Kissing the crown of her head, he looked down at her wet cheeks. "You've grown so much, little dragon." Watching her smile softly, he laughed bittersweetly and pressed his cheek on her jet-black hair.
In the corner of his eye, a goddess took that moment to make her entry - honey-brown eyes sparkling with a sudden joy at finally getting a glimpse of Rhaegar, and he of her. Elia looked divine, more beautiful than she had when they departed in the warm gown of dark gold that nevertheless hugged her slender frame.
But the first words came from the grasping babe squirming in her arms. "Ke..pa, ke..pa!" he babbled, reaching out for him. Even so young, Egg could never forget his father.
Without delay Rhaegar covered the distance between himself and his Dornish bride, holding Rhaenys with one arm as he drew Elia in. Hugging her flush against him. "My love," he gasped out, voice hoarse. The familiar scent of lavender and Dornish apple eased his aching spirit
"Rhaegar…" Gods, how had she existed without his hold? His presence? The hole in Elia's heart was finally filled, reunited with her powerful dragon. "You kept your promise to us," she could only choke out, searching out his lips while Rhae and Egg clung desperately to him. The kiss grew passionate quite quickly, tongues tangling as the lovers reacquainted fully with each other.
Had their children not been present, clothes would have been shed that instant. Hanging back, Arthur knew this, hence him rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
Breathlessly, Rhaegar pulled back. Lovingly kissing Elia's brow once more with - drawing a contented purr from her - before pressing his cheek against Egg's wispy silver hair. A thought came to mind. "Where's Lya?" He noticed Elia's eyes twinkle and a smile spread on her lips. "Where's… Jon?" Rhaegar allowed the name of his yet unseen son pass his lips.
The click of shoes against the tile floors made Elia's smile widen. "See for yourself, Rhaegar."
Everything seemed to slow for the King, a snow goddess appearing in the doorway to join the sun goddess that he held currently in his arms. His mouth dried, taking in the sight. Lyanna was dressed in a northern gown, grey with blue swirls decorating the skirt. Black cloak draped over her shoulders, there was a new glow about her, one that took his breath away. Beautiful. Stunning. Radiant.
Their eyes met - grey on violet - and the biggest of smiles spread on Lyanna's face. "Husband." After so many moons, her Prince Daemon had returned to her. Promise me…
"Go," beamed Elia, gently nudging her husband. Trying not to let the happy moment be spoiled by her lustful thoughts of what would undoubtedly come that night.
Rhaegar kissed Elia on the lips once more before hesitantly approaching Lyanna. Slowly reaching up to push aside a lock of chestnut hair, cupping her cheek with reverence. Lyanna sighed and leaned into the touch, kissing the warm palm.
"You're here," Rhaegar breathed, himself smiling gingerly, everything surreal to him. Unwilling to wait, he leaned forth and joined their mouths in a sweet, languid kiss. One that took both of their breaths away. "Gods… now warmth has returned to my world."
Lyanna swooned at his words. "Not just I that is here, my love." As if by timing, something began to softly squirm in her arms. "He's awake." She watched Rhaegar's beautiful violets widen in understanding. "Meet your son, Rhaegar. Prince Jon Targaryen."
"He a dragon, kepa!" Rhaenys chirped, having been set to the ground. The little girl bounced about in excitement.
Normally that would have provoked a laugh from the King, but Rhaegar's stare was transfixed on the bundle that he hadn't noticed till now. "Jon…" Little Jon yawned, awoken from his slumber as he stretched in Lya's arms. "My son…" Thatch of dark hair on his head the same color as Lya's, he was perfect. Just perfect.
"Hold him, husband," Elia chided, walking behind him. Gently nudging his shoulder.
Rhaegar reached out, scooping the tiny babe from Lya's arms and into his own. "Jon." He really didn't know what to say - what could he say? He was a stranger to this boy. When Jon's eyes fluttered open to reveal the purest of indigo, a tear pricked at Rhaegar's lids.
Lyanna blinked back tears as well, though with a bright smile. "He looks just like you." She took in her husband's trembling form as he stared at their babe. "Talk to him, Rhaegar. You're his kepa."
His son simply gazed up at him, wide and curious at this new face. Never before had he seen such silver hair and Jon couldn't place it with familiarity. As for Rhaegar, he cleared his throat - words to say to his son forming and dying on his tongue. "Greetings, my son," he finally croaked. "It's kepa." Slowly, he bent his head to draw closer. "I know I wasn't there with your munas when you came to this world, but it wasn't of my choice, hatchling." Jon just kept looking at him. "I love you so much, Jon," he said through watery eyes. "You'll have me always, I promise you."
Staring at the silver-haired King holding him, violet eyes raked up and down of the unfamiliar man. Jon had never seen someone like this, but instinct pointed to someone as dear as one of his munas. He raised his chubby hand, as if to reach up. Rhaegar bent down further, heartened by this development... only for his son's fingers to grab some of his hair and pull at it, coaxing out a tiny wince of pain.
The sounds of his kepa brought Jon into a fit of giggles. Squeals of joy echoed out, his hands waving around happily. Infectious, Rhaegar laughed with his son and lifted him up high. "My son!" Bringing the laughing babe down, he kissed Jon's cheek with a loud smack, never having been happier. "I am complete now!" he proclaimed to all.
Standing beside Elia, arm around her waist, the wonderment filled Lyanna as well. "Just as I dreamed, Lya." Her wife kissed her neck. "This place can finally know joy."
Lyanna looked at Rhaegar, who now held Egg in one arm and Jon in the crook of another, Rhaenys clutched to his leg. "Yes, it's perfect."
A sudden screech broke the moment into something… far more shocking. Having watched the heartwarming scene with a tiny smile the whole time, Arthur hadn't noticed Aegarax waking until he chirped and let a tiny puff of fire at him, making the knight jump. Drawn from his moment with his children, Rhaegar frowned. "Aegarax, no! Bad dragon, not Arthur." For his part, Aegarax had the decency to hang his head.
Both Queen's eyes nearly popped out of their eyes. "A dragon…" Lya breathed. Elia just gaped at the sight unseen by most eyes for centuries.
Someone else handled it far differently. "DRAGON!"
Rhaegar was frantic. "Rhaenys, don't…"
But it was too late. The Princess was already picking up Aegarax in her arms. Cuddling and tickling the dragon's belly and lower jaw with gusto… and Aegarax's chirps belied him loving the attention of the girl with the good scent. "You brought me a dragon! I love you, kepa! Love love love!"
Unable not to laugh at his daughter, Rhaegar walked behind his brides. "Surprised?"
"How…?" Elia looked up at him with amazement. "You hatched a dragon."
"I am the blood of Aegon the Conqueror, my love," he replied, grinning.
Sharing a look with Elia, Lyanna knew they couldn't wait to get their husband alone. A dragonrider? Gods, it filled them with desire. But for now, Lya wrapped her arms around Rhaegar, resting her head on his chest beside Egg. "I love you."
"As do I," Elia whispered too, taking the other side by the still giggling Jon.
House Targaryen truly whole for the first time since the Tragedy of Summerhall.
"Direwolf next, kepa!" Everyone laughed merrily.
The two moon-old Prince was in a good mood ever since meeting his kepa. Staring at everything around the Red Keep in an intense curiosity, as soon as his muna put him in the arms of his uncle Ned, the smiles and giggles returned as he tried to smack the Lord of Winterfell's nose - which he seemed to find hilarious. "A feisty little pup, this one is," Ned laughed, gently tickling the babe's tummy and eliciting more giggles. "Reminds me of his mother."
Scowling crossly, Lyanna smacked her brother's arm. "Shut it. You're worse than Benjen." The reunion between her and her brother had been filled with tight embraces and terrible sobs - embraces soon joined by Benjen as the entire Stark pack finally allowed themselves to mourn their father and Bran in each other's arms… Rhaegar and Elia had left the trio to find solace together, while Ash took Benjen to rest in their new quarters.
Such brought both direwolves to the nursery to allow cute little Jon Targaryen to nurse their wounds - once Elia managed to pull Rhaenys away from her uncle Ned, of course. He didn't mind the love of his niece in the slightest.
A rare grin spreading across the dour face of Ned Stark, he leaned down and kissed his newborn nephew on the head. The latest in a long line of persons that wanted to get a bit of time with the adorable Targaryen Prince. "Seriously, Lya, he does look just like you." He sighed. "Father and Bran would have loved him."
She hung her head, wiping a single tear from her eye - so many had been shed for their loss. "I know they would have too. His first grandchild and Bran's first nephew."
"A great son of the North, direwolf through and through…"
"Do not forget dragon," she replied, gingerly taking her son from her brother. Cooing softly at him. "He's Rhaegar's son above all, violet eyes and Targaryen fire… the perfect Prince." She kissed his nose, making him squeal softly.
"So dragonwolf, if you will."
Lyanna looked up at him with a smirk. The idea perking her up from her melancholy as she placed Jon in the intricately carved crib that rested against the wall in the middle of the nursery. "Dragonwolf? I like that a lot."
"It's a perfect description." Ned didn't miss how Lya's eyes lit up as Elia strode into the room, looking quite harried. "Well… Rhaenys and Egg certainly are excited to be back with their kepa. Jumping up and down and all that."
"Oh, Elia," Lyanna murmured sympathetically, touching her arm rather intimately - also not unnoticed by Ned, who uncomfortably shifted his feet. "How hard was it to put them to bed?"
She sighed deeply. "Almost had a servant fetch some milk of the poppy, but both ended up crashing." They shared a tired smile, Elia remembering and Lyanna imagining the two adorable little dragons all tuckered out. "I need to retire for the night with you, but I couldn't let my baby boy go without a kiss from his muna." The Dornish Queen bent over the side of the crib, leaning in to pepper Jon with sweet kisses and tickles.
Crossing his arms, Ned chuckled. "Careful, sister," he mused. "Enough stimulation and it'll be quite the struggle to get my nephew to sleep."
"Don't you worry, goodbrother," Elia replied, rising. "Babes that young can sleep even if there's a war raging outside." Walking towards Lyanna, she pressed a kiss against her lips. Letting her tired body seek out the powerful, slim figure of her wife.
Moaning softly into the kiss, Lyanna enjoyed the soft touches quite well. But when her gaze flickered to her brother, she found him with his eyes averted. Cheeks reddened slightly. "I think we may be making my brother uncomfortable," she told Elia with a giggle.
"The Dornish girls would love him, I'm sure," Elia grinned. "So innocent and honorable. They'd be on him like a cat on a mouse." Ash certainly claimed Benjen rather quickly.
Ned's awkward blush grew darker. "Rhaegar told me of this, and if with anyone I'm glad it's Elia, but knowing of it and witnessing it are two different things."
Kissing Elia once more, Lya walked to Ned and placed her hands on his shoulders. "Relax brother, we are just reviving the traditions of House Targaryen."
"Not traditions in the North, so it's a bit shocking to see."
She furrowed her brows. "Not true. You forget Alaya the washerwoman? She was that way… well, fully that way with the stablemaster's daughter."
This was a surprise to Ned. "Alaya? No, impossible."
"We both saw them in the grainery that one time, giggling together," Lya laughed.
"That? I thought they were wrestling… oh gods…" His blush deepened even further.
Lyanna shook her head. "Sometimes Ned is incorrigible, no? I can't believe you got Catelyn Tully with child."
"I know my way around the bedchamber, Lya," he replied, irritated.
"I'm pretty sure that's true," Elia replied. "You had to have learned from those books Lya told me you hide under your bed. The ones Elbert gave you." Both Queens giggled as he sputtered in humiliation.
"Lya! I told you that in confidence… and it was Robert that gave them to me."
"Why am I not surprised?" Lyanna rolled her eyes, glowering at the mention of him... at least until the wailing of an infant began to echo through the halls. "Who's that? Dacey and Arthur?"
But it wasn't, instead Rhaella staggering in - her face twisted in worry and agony as she cradled the bundle of her despondent daughter. "Goodmother," Elia said. "Is that Princess Daenerys?" Jon had been introduced to the proud grandmother hours before, holding and singing to him in high Valyrian, but they hadn't yet seen the newborn Princess.
Rhaella nodded, despondent. "Aye, and she hasn't stopped screaming for over an hour." The babe had a set of lungs like the dragon she was, wailing and thrashing about in discomfort. "Please, little one. Please don't cry." Rhaella set Daenerys down in her own crib, positioned several yards away from Jon's. Both were so young, no need to be given separate chambers.
"What's the matter with her?" Lyanna asked, slightly worried. Her experiences with babes was limited to Egg and Jon, and both were sweet and never unduly difficult. Poor Dacey and Arthur had it different with little Arthur, and apparently Rhaella had the same issue with Daenerys. "Is it the winds?"
"I burped her earlier, that's not it." Rhaella felt like sobbing herself. "Please, Dany. You're dry, fed, played with… please calm down." Her plea didn't work on Daenerys, who still cried her little lungs out as if a screeching dragon. There was no denying her fire.
Unable to think of any solution himself, Ned turned away to see if Jon was discomforted by the noise… only to see something else. "Lya, Elia?" he called to them.
"What, Ned?" Elia replied harridly, not looking back as she helped tend to the screaming Princess.
"Look at Jon." The three women giving quick glances in Jon's direction, those quick glances turned into curious looks at seeing what he was doing. Somehow he had wriggled against the side of the crib, chubby arms extended out and reaching in Dany's direction - as if desperate to pull his aunt towards him. "I think he wants to help."
Watching her grandson, then her daughter, then her grandson again, Rhaella had an idea. "Pull the cribs together. Let's see what my grandson wants to do."
Quirking her eyebrow up at her goodmother, Lyanna nevertheless nodded. Curious herself at her son's antics. "Ned, help me roll over the crib." It didn't take long for Jon's crib to rest directly adjacent to Dany's, the Prince's frantic efforts tapering off as he got a good look at his aunt. Eyes wide as he stared at her, mouth open in wonder. "Gods… we won't have to worry about Jon sharing his room with her," Lya mused, smiling.
Still wailing, suddenly Dany seemed to trail off - her thrashing arms began to slow. Her scrunched eyes behind the puffy cheeks managed to open and look around - finding Jon staring at her from the side. Reaching out again, only successful as his small palm brushed his aunt's smaller cheek. Toothlessly, Jon smiled, while Dany just watched him. Completely silent and serene, all hints of discomfort vanishing.
"I'll be damned," Elia murmured.
Rhaella looked at the both of them with amazement. "Looks like they were meant to be close." All four gazing at nephew and aunt slowly drifting to sleep, gods help any man or beast that tried to separate the two dragons in the future.
A/N: Squee! Little Jon and little Dany are finally together, this time from the cradle :D
Much torment for Rhaegar to put things together, but he has his family by his side once again. His mother, beautiful brides, adorable children, and tiny little sister... and Viserys, though he's going through a crisis of his own.
Loyal Ned Stark, a man finally with a friend true to him.
Lots of stuff coming up. If I can get thirty-five comments, I shall update on Friday :D
