Hey everyone! Hope you're all doing well and keeping safe.
It has been three years, and I am proud to present the final chapter of Mine is the Fury. It has been a lot of fun, and I genuinely appreciate every single view and review, so thank you. Whether you've been reading for years or binged in a day (which is my favorite method of fic consumption) - thank you, thank you, thank you.
So please, enjoy this chapter!
Chapter 78
"A raven from the Citadel."
Selene wasn't listening. She was reviewing the list of appointments in the king's study. Our study, Jon had told her. Tradition dictated that the king enjoy his own separate chambers and solar. The queen's apartments were on the other side of Maegor's Holdfast, but to her delight, Jon had ended all talks of separation at the start.
"We must take care not to catch any royal habits. Those who sleep apart grow apart."
"Selene?"
"Hmm?" she mumbled, arranging the scraps of papers with names, playing with potential small councils. Tyrion will be Hand, of course.
"You're not listening, are you?"
"That's nice." Ser Brynden is older, to be sure, but as brilliant as he is loyal…
"Haven't you heard? The Night King has been brought back to life."
"Mhm." A Redwyne would make for a good master of ships, though no one knows the seas like the ironborn. No Greyjoy has ever held a small council position, though…
"Amyra's grown a second head."
Selene nodded. I wonder if Garlan is interested in a position. Arianne will want him living with her in Dorne, I presume. Jon says Samwell is clever. I wonder if he's good with numbers…
Jon laughed, taking her hand, "Your Grace."
Selene looked up at him. "Yes?"
"I'd like to speak with my wife."
"Sorry," Selene smiled. "Just got lost in it."
Jon knelt beside her, "A raven from the Citadel."
"Good news, I hope. Have they proposed a Grand Maester for us?"
"Not yet." Jon bit back a smile, "The days grow longer. Winter is over."
Selene understood his joy. "My, my, my… That was short."
"The shortest winter in living memory."
Selene raised a brow, "And so begins the long summer that will never end, if those red priests are to be believed."
Since word spread to Essos of Azor Ahai's defeat of the Night King, red priests had begun trickling into the capital, and travelling the realm, preaching.
Jon shrugged, "You know as well as I do how tricky prophecies can be. This is no trick."
Selene placed a hand on her belly. "Sons of spring."
Jon laid his hand over hers, and glanced at the pages on the desk. "Surely we can continue this tomorrow."
Selene tilted her head ever so innocently, "How else are we meant to pass the time?"
"I can think of a few ways."
Selene laughed, and went to stand. Jon was quicker, grabbing her arms firmly to assist her.
"I'm fine, Jon," she said with a roll of her eyes. "I still have a long way to go." As her belly swelled, so did his fatherly concern. He watched her like a hawk and fussed over her at every opportunity.
"If only you were as gentle in the bedchamber."
Jon's face reddened, as she knew it would. At that, she giggled. She could see him fighting his own laughter when he said, "Perhaps I should lock you in the Maidenvault, as Baelor the Blessed did his sisters."
"I'd like to see you try," Selene scoffed.
Jon continued as if she hadn't spoken, "Perhaps that would stop my carnal thoughts."
"And what of my carnal thoughts?"
Before she could blink, his lips were on hers, and he began leading her toward the bedchamber.
Selene was laughing, "You're quick to surrender."
"I know better than to argue with you, especially when you're looking for a fight."
"Oh, do you?"
"Yes," Jon smirked. "All I need do is gather you up, throw you over my shoulder and take you to bed."
"Then what are you waiting for?"
Afterwards, Jon gave her a lingering kiss and stood to light the candles around their chambers as the sun sank below the city. Selene's eyes followed him as she clutched the dragon egg to her breast like a pillow. Ever since it broke her fever and saved her and their sons, they had slept with it nestled between them, for luck.
Jon slipped back into bed, snaking an arm around the soft skin of her hip and drawing her close, the scales of the egg hot between their chests. His hand continued to trace her side, until it got to her lips. He pressed his thumb to them, just hard enough to feel them part.
As night fell, and the candles burned, Jon was reduced to an outline.
Selene marvelled at the familiarity. His hands on her skin, his eyes on her face, his presence. After all these years, all the uncertainty and fear and secrets, they were in the same bed. The realm knew of their marriage, and they would never be parted again. This bed would be theirs. They would retire to it every night, until their last night. The thought made her head spin.
"Do you think you'll grow tired of me?" Jon murmured. "Once we're settled?"
That took her aback. "Of course not."
"We've endured nothing but trouble since the day we laid eyes on each other," Jon explained, as if trying to make her see. "I'm not even sure I remember what peace feels like."
"No reign was ever free of trouble."
"You know what I mean."
She did. For the first time in her life, Selene's future was certain. Though she did not know exactly what challenges laid ahead, she knew where she belonged, as did he. Jon would be there with her every step of the way, and that brought her unspeakable comfort.
"I do," Selene said, her voice soft. What do I know of peace? She instead focused on his touch, the way his thumb continued to stroke her cheek. "I also know this. When you hold me, I feel a little less war torn. I don't remember what peace is supposed to feel like, either, but I think it may feel a lot like you."
Jon smiled, and Selene found herself staring full into the face of the sun.
"I could ask you the same question," Selene said. "Will you grow tired of me?"
"No," Jon said, his hand trailing down her thigh, pulling her knee up on his hip. "That I will not."
"How do you know?"
Jon's look sent shivers down her spine. "Because we've been married for almost a year, and I want you as much now as I did the first night. Perhaps more."
Selene giggled, glancing at her pregnant belly, "Liar."
"Truly, Selene." Jon's eyes were earnest. "Seeing you carry my sons… I'll always want you. In five years, ten, twenty… There's my heart, and then there's you, and I'm not sure there's a difference anymore."
Selene felt aglow like a brand. She drew the blanket up further as she inched closer to him. She could smell him. She could smell them: sweat, salt like the sea, the taste of metal on her tongue from where she bit down to keep quiet. Until she remembered there was no need for hiding anymore. Then she was as loud as she wanted to be. She remembered how he tasted. She remembered how he looked.
Selene froze when she met his eyes once more. Even in the darkness, his grey gaze was piecing. It bound her, commanded her attention.
The dragon egg grew unbearably hot against her breast.
As if he felt it too, Jon hovered above her, eyes shining silver in the darkness, his warm breath mingling with hers. Heat rose in her face, spreading in her veins like fire. The candles grew, licking up the walls, larger and larger. Smoke and ash soaked the air, filled her lungs, but it was sweet and warm.
Jon was of the north, she knew, but now she felt the blood of old Valyria in his blood, pumping hot beneath his damp skin. In my blood, too. And the babes in my belly. She remembered the egg at her side and smiled. There are five dragons in this bed. Perhaps that was the reason for the heat, for the wetness that pecked her skin.
"Kiss me," Selene begged, reaching for him beneath the blanket.
When he did, the candles around them burst aflame, as if all the wax in them glowed at once. The winter winds drifting in from the balcony transformed into the hottest summer gusts, making her skin wet, her thighs burn.
Sweat trickled down Selene's face as Jon pressed her further down into the bed, covering her, taking her bare body under his protection.
The scorch was filling her, taking over her lungs, claiming her heartbeat. It wasn't just her own heartbeat she felt. While hers hammered wildly in her chest, she felt Jon's thumping beneath her palm, and the flutter of the twin heartbeats between them.
Even the dragon egg seemed to pulse. Its beat was loudest of all, drowning out all other sounds.
Ba-dum.
Ba-dum.
Ba-dum.
Selene did not have the will to dwell on it. Jon was kissing her, feeling her, filling her. His fingers were calloused but knowing, and she ached for more, and cried out from desire. Her body pink and weak and willing beneath his hardened frame.
The bed groaned. The flames licked up around them. Selene felt the burn across her skin, but it left no marks, and caused her no pain. She was just warm and slick and breathless, her voice rough from her cries, until she screamed without sound.
Crack!
The sudden sound made them jump to the edge of the bed.
"Are you hurt?"
Selene shook her head, eyes never leaving the source of the noise. Beneath the furs, something shifted.
Jon and Selene exchanged an apprehensive look.
Slow as sunrise, Jon reached forward and moved the sheet aside.
Beneath, surrounded by jagged stone fragments, was a beautiful baby dragon. White as snow, it seemed to glow like moonlight in the darkness. The dragon blinked up at Jon with eyes of pale blue crystal.
Jon was stunned into silence.
Selene grinned, nudging him, "Go on."
Jon gulped, before reaching down and offering his hand to the hatchling.
The baby squeaked as it sniffed at Jon's skin. With a soft click, it hobbled itself to sit on his hand. Jon lifted it up to his face.
The dragonling gave another small squeak, a scaled tail winding around Jon's wrist.
"How…"
"Wiser men have pondered the mysteries of dragons for centuries," Selene said. "It seems we were wrong."
"About?"
"Neither of our sons will be its rider." Selene smiled as the dragon stretched its wings. The membranes were the color of frost. With a click, the hatchling hopped to Jon's shoulder.
Jon gasped, but Selene's smile only grew, "The dragon is made of the north, Jon. Of Winterfell. Like you."
She could tell he understood. Jon raised his finger to the baby's chin and gave it a scratch. Looking at it purr now on her husband's shoulder, Selene could not believe Rhaegal had ever been so small.
"Ice," Jon said.
The dragon clicked at its name.
Selene's cheeks began to ache from smiling. She ran the tip of her finger lightly over the hatchling's head.
"First Amyra, now Ice…" Jon turned his head to her, smiling. "Our family grows larger every day."
Ice fluttered its wings, drew itself up, and began to sing.
###
They were awoken in the early hours of the morning by a swarm of servants.
Her maids whisked her away to the queen's chambers for preparation. Selene let them do their work as they combed over every inch of skin, waxing and massaging and painting where they saw fit. After the years she spent away from court, it all seemed so extravagant, but this was the most lavish day of a generation.
Coronations always were.
Selene had protested the expense, given the years of war, but Prince Oberyn of all people had advised it. Let the people of the Seven Kingdoms see the splendor. Let them see all the great lords and ladies of the realm united behind their shining new king and queen. The singers will sing their songs, word will spread like wildfire from Dorne to the Wall, and all will know the wars are over at last.
Selene knew too well of the power of singers, so she sat and let the maids tie her into a dress of gold samite. She was as ornamented as a queen could be, with her heavy ermine cloak, heavy rings, heavy jewels on her ears and neck.
Heavy is the head that wears the crown, though she wore no crown yet. That would come later.
The only adornment she fought for was her moonstone necklace and her mother's emerald ring. Those would never leave her, especially on a day as important as today.
When she and Jon beheld each other, fearsome blushes rose to their cheeks. Jon was resplendently dripping in gold, as she was, but her gaze locked on the sword at his hip.
"I would have Dark Sister and Stormsbane with me."
Selene expected resistance, as two swords did not suit her queenly attire, but Eyme bowed low, "At once, Your Grace."
Jon raised his brows, causing Selene to bite back a smile.
Behind the gates of the Red Keep, Jon and Selene sat astride white chargers.
Selene's fingers fluttered with nerves, and at the sound of excited yammering just beyond the gates.
It must have shown on her face, for Jon said, "Let's go give them something to sing about."
Selene laughed as the gates swung open to their party, and a wall of roars greeted them.
Selene could not believe how many people she saw. Kingslanders were leaning out of windows, standing on carts, only kept from middle of the road by a long line of gold cloaks.
Jon looked as shocked as she felt.
Selene wrapped the reigns around her wrist and nudged her horse forward, and their procession began.
The crowds had plenty to scream for. Ghost padded ahead, to the awe of those who had never seen a direwolf.
Ice perched on Jon's shoulder, its tail wrapped around his forearm while the throngs gasped at the wonder of a newborn dragon.
Selene heard the familiar crack of her dragon's wings, and the crowd delighted as Rhaegal circled above them, screeching. She had expected fear there, given all the city had suffered, but the people knew the dragon to be hers, and so they cheered Rhaegal as he descended on the ruins of the Sept of Baelor.
Not for the first time, Selene wished for Eleni, to share in the celebrations. She is here, she remembered, running her fingers lightly across the worn pelt laid across her lap. It gave her strength.
As they made their way to Visenya's Hill, the world was a swirl of a thousand colors. Flower petals floated through the air, thrown from the roofs, from the windows, catching in Selene's hair.
Some cries were louder than the rest, crashing over them like a wave.
"Winter's Fury!"
"Jon!"
"Selene!"
"Azor Ahai!"
"Nissa Nissa!"
"The White Wolf!"
"Targaryen! Baratheon! Lannister! Stark!"
Selene smiled at them all, waving back at their raised hands. The masses grew impossibly louder, pushing against the gold cloaks, trying to reach them. When she placed one hand on her pregnant belly, it was if there was nothing but the thundering of their people.
It was then, looking out into the crowd, Selene noticed many amongst them wore the colors of other kingdoms: Dornishman in their oranges, Valeman in pale blues, rivermen in their scaled greys and northmen in their furs…and she realized the armies outside the gates had entered the city for the show. No wonder there are so many here. The realm itself has gathered for the occasion.
The great lords and ladies of the realm gathered as well, following behind Jon and Selene as they approached the steps to the Sept of Baelor. The white marble steps had survived the fires, and their crowns awaited them at the top. As did Rhaegal, tail twisting as his bronze eyes burned.
The crowds cheered for their liege lords as they dismounted their horses and climbed the steps.
Jon helped Selene dismount, held her hand aloft in his, and together they ascended. They passed their lords, who in turn bowed to their newly made sovereigns. Young Lord Arryn, Edmure Tully, Willas Tyrell, Tyrion Lannister, Gendry Baratheon, Asha Greyjoy, Sansa Stark. Prince Doran could not rise, but he bowed his head as low as he was able. Their families stood lower: Princess Arianne Martell on the arm of Ser Garlan, Arya and Bran Stark beside their mother, Lady Olenna beside Ser Brynden.
Jon and Selene kept their eyes forward as they reached the top, where a septon and a red priestess awaited them. The two were strangers to her, sent from the Citadel and the east for the coronation. On two silk pillows sat the twisted pieces of metal that would change their lives forever. They had their choice from all the wealth in the vaults below the Red Keep. Jon had chosen the simple gold band of Aegon III. Polished to a gleam, the crown was the least ornamented and suited him well. Selene had been tempted by the crown of Rhaenyra Targaryen, the first woman to claim the Iron Throne. It had belonged to her grandfather King Jaehaerys, a gold band set with seven gemstones of different colors. But in the end, she could only choose her silver stag crown, the one Robert had made for her.
Selene Baratheon would always be her father's daughter.
Jon froze before the septon and priestess.
"Are you alright?"
"No," he murmured for her ears alone. He glanced over his shoulder at the crowds below. "They need a king, and I-"
Selene squeezed his hand, putting all the love she had for him in her voice. "They need someone honorable, good, and true. That's who you are, Jon. That's who you've always been."
He took a deep breath.
"Together?" Selene asked.
Jon met her eyes, his own shining in the sunlight. "Together."
With that, they turned to face their city.
The realm rejoiced. Selene had never seen so many smiling faces in her life, the crowds straining to get closer to the ruins for a better look at the spectacle. She wondered if the city was the same for her father's coronation, her heart swelling at the thought.
Jon and Selene knelt.
The septon and the priestess reached forward, placing their chosen crowns upon their brows. They spoke their next words together, in ringing tones. Words of Jon and Selene's own choosing.
"We now proclaim Jon of Houses Targaryen and Stark and Selene of Houses Baratheon and Lannister, First of their Names, King and Queen of the Andals, Rhoynar and First Men, Lord and Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, Protectors of the Realm! Long may they reign!"
"LONG MAY THEY REIGN!"
"LONG MAY THEY REIGN!"
"LONG MAY THEY REIGN!"
Jon offered Selene his hand, and they rose.
A hundred thousand voices cheered as one as Jon and Selene lifted their joined hands. She looked down the steps at their lords; at Sansa and Arya Stark where they beamed up at them, at Gendry where he clapped heartily, at Arianne and Garlan where they applauded with wide smiles.
Selene looked last and longest at her Lannister kin. Jaime's head was held high with pride, Myrcella's face shone with happy tears, and Tyrion seemed to be fighting tears of his own.
All else disappeared when Jon pulled her against him and gave her a fervent kiss for all seven kingdoms to see.
The crowds roared their approval, but they could have been a thousand miles away for all Selene heard. She only clutched her husband tight.
Something to sing about, indeed.
Jon raised his hand, and a quiet slowly settled over the great plaza, with several voices still crying out.
"Azor Ahai! The White Wolf! The True King!"
"Many years ago, my mother and father married for love," Jon began, his voice carrying over the masses, "and so began the years of war that have led us here. Today, those wars are finally over!"
The city cheered.
"The Seven Kingdoms have been left scarred and divided," Jon continued when the voices quieted down for him, "but with my queen's help, I will do all I can to heal those wounds from long ago, and make the realm a better place for all!"
Ice fluttered its wings and screeched on his shoulder. Ghost threw back his head and howled as the people hailed their new king.
Selene raised her own hand this time to quiet the throngs. She heard shouts of her own.
"Winter's Fury! Selene! Realm's Delight!"
At those, her throat clenched. The years she had spent away from King's Landing made her feel like an enemy of the capital, but here they were, welcoming her home with open arms. It was enough to make her cry for joy, but now was not the time for tears.
Selene set her shoulders and raised her chin, "People of King's Landing! People of all Seven Kingdoms! Of vows, I have only this. On every god that's ever been, on the honor of my house, and love for my father…I swear before you all that my whole life, whether it be long or short, shall be devoted to your service!"
The city thundered for her.
"From the Arbor to the Wall!" Selene swore, Rhaegal stirring behind her at her words, at the excitement below. "For every man, woman and child born into these Seven Kingdoms! All I do, all we do, we do for you. And though you have had, and may have, mightier and wiser rulers sitting the throne, you never had, nor shall have, any that will love you better!"
Rhaegal planted his claws in the ruins at her back and roared along with their people.
Jon and Selene raised their joint hands once more and walked down the steps to their mounts. As the people flung flowers of a hundred colors upon them, the new monarchs smiled all the way back to the Red Keep.
###
"You know, it's bigger than I expected," Jon said softly. "I always assumed it was a throne like any other, but it's more than that."
Selene chuckled, the shadow of the Iron Throne as familiar as her own.
The world was much changed since Selene had first laid eyes upon it, yet the throne was unchanged. An asymmetric monstrosity of spikes and jagged edges and twisted metal. A symbol of conquest, the points of the blades fanned out like talons, and even after three hundred years, the steel were sharp enough to cut. Steep iron steps led to the seat itself.
"It doesn't look very comfortable."
"It's not meant to be," Selene said. "The first Aegon believed a king should never sit easy, and this throne serves as a reminder to his descendants."
"King and queen." Jon turned to her. "The throne is not mine. It's ours."
Selene's heart fluttered at his words, but… "I appreciate what you're trying to say, but look at the throne again, Jon."
He did.
"One seat," Selene reminded him. "Just one. Aegon loved his queens well, but his throne was forged for one."
"It can be forged again."
"What do you mean?"
"We have Rhaegal, don't we? We can add some more steel, and fashion it to have two seats, side by side."
Selene was speechless.
"Aegon had it wrong," Jon said firmly. "One man shouldn't have absolute power. It should be shared. I plan to start with this chair."
The Iron Throne has been untouched for centuries. "That's quite a big change."
"This is only the beginning, Selene," Jon said. "For too long, the greed and ambitions of lords and kings have decided the fate of the realm and its people. No more."
Selene smiled, "No more. You're thinking of Moonsgrace, aren't you?"
"I am. The people should have a say. Don't you agree?"
Selene thought of what she had told Tyrion in Meereen before they sailed west. Is the wheel truly broken if we carry on as before? Who is to say that in a few decades, war will not break out again? And on and on the wheel spins, crushing those at the bottom.
She thought of Daenerys, her resolve hardening.
"I do," Selene said. "There will always be corruption, greed, and madness…for as long as men live. But we can make it easier to stop them."
Jon beamed, "That we can."
Selene placed her hand on the crook of his arm and led him up the metal steps. "Come, I want you to see the view from the top." As they stepped carefully, she cleared her throat. "Now that we're exchanging ideas…"
"Oh, gods," Jon moaned, but she laughed, knowing it was all in play.
"Dorne has the right of inheritance, don't you think?"
Jon smiled, playing along, "What did you have in mind?"
When they reached the top, she turned to face him. "From now on, inheritance will go to the eldest, regardless of gender. Inheriting women can pass down their family name to their children, instead of the name of their husbands."
"Some lords will be against this," Jon warned.
Selene shrugged, "Their daughters won't be. Or their wives."
Jon's smile grew wide, "Agreed."
Selene blinked. Is it that simple? We have yet to even celebrate our coronation, and we are already making such changes. How much ill would have been undone in the realm if daughters could inherit from their fathers?
Jon saw her thoughts swirl in her eyes, "What's wrong?"
Selene swallowed, looking down at the seat. "I think…I think you deserve this seat, Jon. I think you're going to make the realm a better place."
Jon leaned in close. "We are. Haven't you been listening? You are my queen, my equal."
Selene gave him a half-smile, "I still see only one seat."
"There will be two seats soon enough, I promise you that." A mischievous smile spread on his face, "But until then…"
Jon placed his hands firmly on her shoulders and guided her down to sit on the throne.
Selene gasped, "What are you doing? I can't-"
"You can," Jon insisted.
And then he knelt before her.
The intensity in his eyes made fire bloom beneath her cheeks. "Jon," she whispered breathlessly, "you don't have to kneel to me. I don't want you to."
Jon's hand went under her gold skirts, his fingertips tracing the soft skin of her leg. Selene shuddered at his touch, as his hand went north. "I don't want you to kneel to me, either. I want you to understand. You and I are equals, in everything."
Selene's eyes fluttered shut as his fingers curled between her legs. She tilted her head back, her hands gripping the arms of the throne, her toes curling as he touched her. She felt a cool draft on her legs and jolted when she realized what her husband intended.
"Jon," Selene pleaded, though whether she was begging him to stop, or to go further, even she could not say for certain.
"For too long, this throne has meant fear and blood," Jon said in a low rasp. "I plan on changing that, too."
Selene sighed as he bent down to kiss the inside of her knee, then higher up, then the very top of her thigh, the whole time his fingers stroking the bundle of fire between her legs.
Jon drank deep.
Selene cried out, and it was all she could do to keep from impaling herself on the swords at her back. I will never grow used to this, she thought deliriously, her legs finding their way over his shoulders, the heels of her feet digging into his back. Never, never…
Selene sunk her fingers into Jon's dark hair, her hips heaving against his mouth, as if she could help him. As if he needs my help, she thought, nearly laughing. When her fingers found the crown on his brow, a bolt of excitement shot through her.
He is so beautiful, Selene thought as she watched him. Her eyes drifted over the pale planes of his cheeks, down the angular line of his nose, over the soft dark curls where her fingers danced. She wanted to see more of him. She wanted to see the firm lines of muscle over his chest, the cords of it in his arms, the hard curves of his legs…
Jon's fingers dug into her thighs, pulling her closer.
Seven Kingdoms, Selene thought dizzily, and he bows to me alone.
Every muscle in her body was as taught as a bow string, every nerve crying out in need. It took Selene a moment to realize she was crying out, too. That only seemed to increase Jon's fervor, only made his tongue delve slower, deeper…
Selene's senses blurred together, until a sweet fire blazed through her, swallowing her whole.
It took a moment for her to come back to herself. Selene opened her eyes and found Jon's hungry eyes on her.
"You taste like heaven, but gods know you're built for sin."
His words roused a storm in her. Selene straightened, grabbing the fabric of his doublet and pulling herself to the edge of the seat. She could smell herself on his breath.
"You said equal, didn't you?"
Jon inhaled sharply as she turned, seating him on the throne. It suits him, Selene thought, her hands tugging at the fastening of his doublet, baring his chest for her. "I want to see you." Her eyes wandered, "All of you," she said, working on the lacing of his breeches. As she drew him out, Jon's hands slid into her hair, pulling her into a fervent kiss.
Selene slid her tongue into his mouth, swirling and dancing until he groaned. She loved making him groan. It was such deep satisfaction to feel the power she had over him, to feel how hard his blood pumped when her hand gripped him. Moments like this made her wonder if she only lived to make him gasp.
Selene sat back on her legs. Shivering, she parted her lips and traced him.
Eyes closed, Jon pressed his hips forward, sighing her name, almost like a prayer. He twisted and writhed under her, but she held him down by his thighs, not letting him slip away. Is this how he feels when he does this to me? she wondered, reveling in his sweet anguish. This was a different kind of pleasure. Not one between her legs, but one between her ears. She wanted to please him the way he pleased her, to see him unravel because of her touch and tongue. Selene wondered how it was possible for her to feel so fragile and strong at once. Like her knees were made of water while her spine was all fire and steel.
Jon's fingers were gentle where they stroked her hair.
He really is beautiful, Selene thought again, watching as he groaned and cursed and unfurled before her. The realm knew Jon as the White Wolf, a warrior, deadly and noble and strong…but like this? He was pliant. He was willing. He was helpless under her touch. His pale skin covered with goosebumps, he trembled and twitched against her tongue.
Selene reached forward and dug her thumbs into the hollows of his hipbones. Jon arched forward into her, and she was utterly powerless to deny him.
Jon's hands were at her shoulders, stopping her.
Selene looked up, and his expression made heat blaze in her core. Jon's eyes were like pits of fire, threatening to consume, and all she wanted to do was dive headlong into the flames.
At that moment, Selene knew he wanted her, because she wanted him just as much.
Selene stood and gave him her back as she lifted her skirts. Jon's hands gripped her tightly by the hips, exactly where it mattered, and pulled her down into his lap.
They were both more than ready, and she sunk easily onto him. The sensation was as familiar as it was overwhelming, their joint gasps echoing through the empty hall.
Jon sighed in her ear, his hands guiding her hips.
Selene did not need his guidance. She needed his hands on her. She placed one on her chest, pushing down her gown so she could feel his scorching touch. She placed his other between her legs, at the spot that made her lose coherent thought.
As he touched her, Selene's hands reached back to brace herself against the arms of the throne, to raise herself up and drop her hips back down. Jon's strangled moans were like the sweetest music to her ears. Selene could do this for hours. Days. Weeks, if she could. The way his teeth dragged at her ear, the way the calloused palm of his hand clutched desperately at her breast, the other swirling at that damn spot that made her squirm and writhe and scream.
As if from far away, Selene wondered if the Iron Throne had ever seen a moment like this, if this chair of war and blood and death had ever seen such love and lust and life.
Jon's breaths became more and more ragged as he rasped, "Never another but me. You are mine. My heart, my wife, my soul." He moved in her, strongly, and she moaned.
He hooked his feet around her ankles and spread her legs wide, stretching her.
"Oh," Selene sighed, dissolving.
Jon's body shook at her hums, at the way her hips ground against him.
Selene's end caught her unawares, her legs shaking as the sensation peaked, as she could go no higher.
Jon let out a muffled cry into her curls.
Selene collapsed against his chest, her own rising and falling as she struggled to collect herself. Her mind may have been blissfully blank, but her body continued to throb and shudder and spasm.
A long moment of silence acted as their symphony, marked by the steady thumping of their hearts. Neither spoke or moved, and Selene felt slight embarrassment, with the return of reason, at what they had just done, and where.
As if he felt it too, Jon adjusted her skirts and drew her dress back over her chest. "There," he mumbled, satisfied that her modesty was protected.
It's a bit late for all that.
"Don't move, love," Selene breathed. "Can we…can we just sit here for a while?"
Jon's low laugh sent another pang of pleasure through her. "I couldn't move if I wanted to. My legs feel like jelly."
Selene grinned, turning her face to kiss his cheek. "Perhaps one seat is not so bad after all."
Jon chuckled. "Shall we hold court like this every day?"
Selene giggled at the thought. "Well, you were wrong about one thing."
"What's that?"
"The throne is very comfortable."
Jon looked at her incredulously, and then he was laughing, full and loud. The kind of laugh that was rare for him. It made him look as young as he was.
Selene laughed with him, turning to wrap an arm around his neck. He held her close.
"So…" she said, "…if the throne no longer means fear and blood, what does it mean now?"
Jon thought for a moment. "Justice and peace."
Selene raised a skeptical brow, "And how does having me on the throne accomplish all that?"
"Because, like that, we'll do it together. Both of us."
"That's a bit of a stretch."
Jon slid his hand along her cheek and pulled her in for a kiss. Selene leaned into him, her heart starting up again when his hand trailed down her neck, her shoulder, his thumb grazing along the soft swell of her breast.
When he pulled away, Selene could not help her puff of disappointment.
Jon smiled at that, "Remember the winter roses you picked for me? After the battle against the dead?"
Selene's head felt like it was full of sand, but she nodded.
"You told me you wanted the winter roses to make me smile, to remind me of the love between my parents."
"I remember. It was quite romantic of me."
"It was," Jon chuckled. "Seeing the throne now, I began to wonder what it meant to you. How it felt to be raised in its shadow."
Selene glanced around them, at all the fanged steel, sharp and dark and deadly. She shivered as she thought of all the horror this hall had seen, all the blood and sorrow.
"I don't want you to fear this stupid metal chair," Jon said resolutely, his eyes blazing silver. "I don't want it to remind you of war and grief. When you look at it, I want you to think of us. I want you to blush-"
"-done and done," Selene hummed in his ear, kissing the soft skin there.
Jon kept on, "I want you to think of this chair as ours. Yours and mine. And all the good we'll do together because of it."
"Do you?"
"I do."
Selene turned in his lap. Jon exhaled as she placed her knees gently on either side of him. She grinned when she felt him hardening inside her.
"A noble endeavor," Selene admitted, slipping her fingers through the opening of his doublet, revealing more of his chest. Jon froze when her fingers grazed the muscles of his stomach, "but if you think once is enough to accomplish all that… I'm afraid you're greatly mistaken."
"Oh?" Jon choked out as she began to make slow, circular motions with her hips. "How many times do you think will be sufficient?"
Selene held up her hands, "One for each finger."
Jon laughed, "A mighty feat, but I think I can manage it."
She blinked, "What? Ten times?"
Jon slid a hand along her lower back, pulling her close, so all she saw was him. "You do mean every day, don't you?"
Selene burst out laughing, but after a few moments of Jon's hands wandering over her, she found she was not laughing anymore.
"That's precisely what I mean, Jon. Every day, always."
###
The Great Hall was alive with candlelight and song. Lords and ladies great and small, knights in their finery, pretty maids… They all swirled together, chattering and laughing and drinking. Louder still were the cheers and shouts drifting in through the frosted glass. Both within the city and without, the realm was celebrating their new monarchs.
Selene Baratheon Targaryen watched them all from her ornate chair below the throne where she sat beside her husband and king.
Two grand, oaken chairs with gold carving were brought out for them both, neither willing to be the only one seated on the Iron Throne. They had also changed out of their opulent golden attire. Gold was the color of royalty and splendor, and perfect for a coronation, but Jon was happiest in blacks, and Selene preferred silver to gold. She always had.
The coronation celebrations were well under way, with lords, ladies, and nobility all offering their fealty to the newly made sovereigns.
Selene smiled as her eyes followed Amyra in her silks where she darted between adults with highborn children, her laughter high and delightful as they played their games.
"What are we?" Jon asked the man before them. "The sixth and seventh rulers you've served?"
Lord Varys, splendid in his lavender brocade, tittered, "Thereabouts, Your Grace."
"And now you expect us to trust you?"
Varys looked to Selene, "You've always known where my loyalties lie. With no king or queen, but with the people. I will act in their self-interest, no matter the cost."
Selene tapped her finger on the arm of her seat. "It seems you expect us to spend the entirety of our rule wondering if you are satisfied with our performance. To displease you is to expect treason. How are we to rest easy?"
Varys straightened. "You should never rest easy, Your Grace. Ruling is not easy. There will be days when no decision is the right one, and suffering is inevitable, but I know this. The Seven Kingdoms have no better chance than you."
"You said the same of Daenerys and Aegon," Selene reminded him.
Varys looked genuinely saddened. "No one is sorrier I was wrong than I am." The eunuch cleared his throat, "I served your grandfather as faithfully as I could, my king. I served your father and brother as faithfully as I could, my queen."
"Until you didn't," said Jon.
"I can offer the same I offered Daenerys," said Varys. "If I believe you to be failing the people, I will look you in the eye as I am doing today and say so. Incompetence should not be rewarded with blind loyalty."
Jon and Selene exchanged a look. After a moment, she gave him a slight nod.
The king turned back to the eunuch. "Blind loyalty has bled the realm long enough. We need more men loyal to the people, not less. Lord Varys, we name you master of whispers."
Varys sighed in relief, bowing low, "I will not fail you, Your Grace."
"No, you won't," said Selene. "Years ago, you told me you only truly serve the realm. That it's all you've ever done."
"Well I remember."
"Then let me say this, on behalf of our people." Selene paused, and smiled. "Thank you."
Lord Varys blinked in surprise, his eyes glistening as he gave another deep bow and left them.
"I suppose I can't call you Halfwit anymore, can I?"
Selene narrowed her eyes. "Not unless your head is eager to part from your body."
Haldon Halfmaester chuckled, "Not yet, anyway. I suppose I should swear my fealty."
"Who says I want it?"
Selene and Haldon stared at each other for a moment, and then they were laughing. Even Jon seemed to be fighting off a smile.
"I thought you would have gone back to Essos with Griff and Lemore."
Haldon sighed, "They invited me, of course, but I have missed Westeros. I cared for the lad, truly, but those two loved him as their own. To be here, to see another son of Rhaegar on the throne in his place…they had no other course."
"And where does your course lead, Halfmaester? The Citadel?"
Haldon laughed, "Gods, no."
"You never did say why you left."
"Nor will I. That is between the grey rats and myself. I would be content to travel the kingdoms, lending my services to those in need."
"How noble."
"Yes, I think so."
Jon leaned back in his chair, "Serve us."
Haldon frowned, "Pardon me, Your Grace?"
"You're a brilliant man," said Jon. "My queen won't say it, so I will. The saddles you designed for the dragons was just the beginning of your talents, I'm sure."
Haldon looked to Selene, who only gave him a knowing smile. "You're serious?"
"Quite," said Selene. "My husband is not known for his sense of humor."
Jon turned to her, "A great injustice."
"Oh, I agree."
Haldon looked back and forth between them. "Does my service deserve wealth and title?"
"How about," said Selene, "we start with a workshop and keep, and go from there?"
Haldon's smile swallowed his face, and for the first time, he gave Selene a deep bow, "Your Grace."
"Master Haldon."
As the man left, Ice stirred on Jon's lap.
"Shhh, it's alright, little one," said Jon. "Perhaps she should retire for the evening. She's only a babe after all."
"She?"
Jon smiled, "I just have a feeling. Ser Jaime?"
Uncle Jaime stepped from behind their seats, "Yes, Your Grace."
"If you could please return Ice to our apartments."
Jaime extended his golden hand. The hatchling fluttered his wings and leapt to her uncle's arm. Jaime wore a large, disbelieving smile that made Selene giggle.
Lord Arryn, a boy of five and ten, approached them with Lord Royce at his back. He got to one knee. "The Vale is yours. House Arryn will stand beside House Targaryen, as we have for hundreds of years."
"Thank you for your oath, my lord," said Jon. "And your faith."
"You have both. Always." The boy's eyes flicked to Selene. "My queen, might I make a petition?"
Selene wasn't expecting any. "Of course."
"You knew my father well."
"As well as any young princess can know her father's Hand. Jon Arryn was always kind to me."
"I don't remember him much," Lord Arryn admitted. "I only know what my mother said, and she…well, you know what she was. I would like to know him better."
Selene smiled, "I would be happy to tell you all I can of him, my lord. Lord Varys remembers him fondly. I'm sure he would be glad to join us."
Lord Robin smiled and looked as young as he was. "Thank you, Your Grace."
Edmure Tully, his uncle at his shoulder, was next. When he knelt, his eyes were on Selene's feet. "The riverlands are yours. House Tully will stand beside House Targaryen, as we have for centuries."
Jon opened his mouth to give him thanks, but froze when Selene leaned forward in her chair.
"Look at me."
He did, and her throat clenched. From a distance, with his Tully coloring, she could have mistaken him for Robb. As he beheld her, she could see the young Lord of Riverrun was drowning. In what, she could not quite say, but Selene felt duty bound to help him, her own good uncle.
"It's my fault."
Selene frowned, "Pardon?"
"Everything," Edmure whispered. "If I had only listened, if I hadn't sought glory…"
Ser Brynden looked as shocked as she felt, "Nephew, you shouldn't-"
"Well, I do, Uncle," Edmure snapped. "Your plan would have worked. Drawn Tywin out of Harrenhal and away from the capital. Lord Stannis would have won the Battle of the Blackwater and-"
Selene stood, halting Edmure's words. She descended the steps, standing before him. "Rise, my lord."
Edmure Tully rose to his feet.
"I can see you've given this a great deal of thought."
"I have thought of little else these past years. Time in a black cell lends itself to thinking."
"Your thoughts are poison."
"Might be I deserve them."
Selene's eyes hardened, "And your wife? And your son? Do they deserve a man like that?"
Edmure held her gaze, staggered. "You of all people should hate me."
"I don't. I know what it's like to sup on hate and regret, my lord, believe me. But we have all made mistakes, and no doubt we'll make more before too long. You must live, Edmure. For yourself, your sister, wife and son. Or else you should have died with Robb at the Twins."
Lord Edmure's eyes welled up, and then he was kneeling before her, "Forgive me."
Selene reached out her hand, and he took it. "I do. Now you must forgive yourself."
"I…I will try, Your Grace."
"That's all any of us can do."
Edmure Tully kissed her knuckles, before going in search of his family.
Ser Brynden's eyes were on his nephew's back. "He needed that. Thank you, Your Grace."
"Anything for you, old friend."
Ser Brynden chuckled, "It may be that you are queen now, but take care who you call old. I still have plenty of fight left in me."
"Oh, I'm counting on it." Selene glanced back at Jon, who nodded. "In fact, we were hoping you had many years of service left to give."
Ser Brynden looked between them, his silver brows knitting. "What did you have in mind, Your Grace?"
"Master of laws."
"You honor me," Bryden Tully choked out, "but you should fill your court with young idealists, not old knights like me."
"I thought you had plenty of fight left. Which is it, ser?"
Ser Brynden's lips twisted into a smile. "Ah, it seems you have me trapped."
Selene placed a hand on his arm, "A trap of your own making." She smiled as he rasped out a laugh, "Tell me true. Would this please you?"
"You honor me…"
"Yes, you've said, but I've asked if it pleases you. I want you to be happy."
Ser Brynden smiled, "This would make me that and more, Your Grace. My brother would pitch a holy fit if he could see me now."
Selene laughed. "That's some consolation, then. No man has ever been more deserving."
Ser Brynden Tully bowed low to her, and Jon behind her, "Your Grace."
A bolt of yellow and white wrapped around her waist, and hid behind her skirts.
"Amyra?"
"I'm hiding from the Rowan boy," the girl whispered. "Don't tell."
Selene giggled. "I won't. Are you having fun?"
"Oh, yes," Amyra said, looking up at her. "This is the best day ever. Look at my dress!"
"It's beautiful," Selene said, admiring the ivory silk, "as are you."
"Gotcha!"
Amyra squealed and dashed away, a young boy at her heels.
Selene returned to her seat, Jon chuckling at all he witnessed. As she sat, Jaime rejoined them.
"The dragon?"
"Safe," said Jaime. "I never thought I would come to care for a dragon. A part of me wishes I could tell Father."
"He would have wanted you to ride it yourself," said Tyrion, waddling up to them.
"He would have never risked the life of his favorite son."
Tyrion winced, a hand over his heart. "I am skewered."
Selene gave a deep sigh, "Ah, I can't wait for the many years ahead of your charming rapport." In truth, she was overjoyed to keep her Lannister uncles close.
Tyrion and Jon exchanged an uncomfortable look.
"What?" Selene asked.
"Your uncle has asked our leave to return to Casterly Rock," Jon told her, "and I am inclined to grant him his wish."
"The Rock?" Selene's frown deepened at the look on Tyrion's face. "Why the Rock?"
"Someone has to look after the westerlands."
Realization dawned on her, and she shoved it away. "Grandfather was both Hand and Lord of Casterly Rock."
"I'm no Tywin Lannister," he said. "Thank the gods. I have a responsibility to the west."
"You have a responsibility to your queen."
Jon squeezed her hand. When she turned to him, his eyes were soft.
"Why do you support this?" she whispered.
"It's what he wants."
Selene glared at Tyrion, "Will you abandon me?"
Tyrion winced. "Sweetling-"
"Don't sweetling me." Selene did not know why she was so upset, but her chest was tight. She was a queen, a wife, a mother, and yet…looking between her uncles, she felt like a child again. "Tell me the truth."
"Always," Tyrion said. "I had to make a choice. There are three things I want most in this world, and I can only have two."
"Three?"
Tyrion nodded, "To be your Hand, to be Lord of Casterly Rock, and…well, to be a husband and have a family of my own."
Selene's mouth dropped.
"To try and have all three…" he shook his head. "That would not do. I would make a mess of it, and I am done with making messes. Two, though…two I could do well. Do properly. Oh, please don't look at me like that."
Selene turned to Jon, who did not look as shocked as he should have. "You didn't tell me."
"You were feverish for weeks, Selene," said Jon. "Tyrion told me of his troubles, and I helped him as best I could."
"Sansa…"
"-wants this," said Jon. "I've asked. They both do."
Selene looked to Tyrion, "You would split your time between the Rock and Winterfell?"
"As best I can. She will rule the north, truly. Lord is just a title, and she'll keep the Stark name, obviously."
"But," Selene struggled, "you began the reconstruction of the city-"
"-which the gold cloaks can now complete."
"-you dressed us like royalty for the council-"
"-the moment you two stepped in the room, the battle was already won."
"-and you spoke on our behalf!"
Tyrion smiled, "I did. I needed to see you two safe on the throne. Now it is time for me to do my duty and follow my heart."
"I will miss you."
The words were out before she could stop them. Tyrion had always been on her side, and since the Red Wedding, she had hardly been without him. The thought of being apart, for so long…
"I will miss you, too, my dear niece," Tyrion said softly. "I am not abandoning you. I would never do that. You are safe on the throne, but more than that…you have Jon and Jaime, you have your sons. You are not alone, Selene. You never will be again."
Selene bit her lip to keep it from wobbling. She remembered Joffrey's wedding feast and how they had both stared longingly at a happily pregnant couple, the yearning for that love strong in both of them. I have found love and happiness. I have started my own family. Who am I to deny him the very things that make life worth living?
She had only ever wanted happiness for her uncle.
Tyrion Lannister was giving her his knowing half-smile. He did not look like a lord asking a favor of his queen. He looked very much her uncle, especially when he knew the right course and was waiting for her to realize it as well.
"The westerlands are blessed to have you," said Selene. "As is Sansa Stark."
"Not as blessed as the realm to have you both. This won't be the last you see of me, Selene. I plan on visiting court and hosting your royal progresses at the Rock and Winterfell."
"You better start planning, then." As he laughed, she realized something, and turned to Jon, "Who will be our Hand?"
"Ser Jaime Lannister."
Uncle Jaime blinked, "Pardon?"
"Please, step forward, ser."
Jaime made his way beside his brother, uneasy. Tyrion and Jon shared a knowing glance.
That's the last time I sleep for two weeks.
"When you three first arrived at Winterfell all those years ago," said Jon, "I remember beholding you for the first time, ser. I remember thinking this is what a king should look like. Ser Jaime Lannister, I name you Hand of the King and Queen, with my wife's blessing of course," Jon added with a look.
Selene could only stare at her husband.
Jaime could only stare at his brother. "Are you behind this?"
Tyrion shrugged, "I may have put your name forward."
"Why? I'm no politician."
"I don't need a politician," said Jon. "My wife is politician enough for the three of us."
"A Hand without a hand?" Jaime raised his brows, "A cruel jape, brother."
"Jaime has run from every chance he's had to rule," said Selene.
"Ambition does not make a good Hand," said Tyrion. "Surely the histories have taught us that much."
"But I'm Lord Commander of the Kingsguard." Jaime was still in shock. "Few Lord Commanders have ever held the position of Hand. I do not belong in their company."
"You do," said Jon, "for the reasons you think you do not. Ser Jaime, the very decisions that have caused you so much grief and shame are the very reasons I am asking you to be Hand."
"I killed the Mad King," said Jaime blankly, as if any of them needed reminding, "and my sister."
"You were willing to kill your king rather than watch him commit acts of evil," said Jon. "I would rest easier knowing you are willing to do whatever it took to keep the realm safe."
Jaime only blinked up at them, his mouth agape.
Jon turned to Selene again, "Do you agree?"
Selene realized she was smiling.
Jon took that for his answer.
Ser Jaime went down to one knee, "I will do all I can, Your Grace."
"Arise, Ser Jaime Lannister," said Jon proudly, "Hand of the King and Queen and Lord Commander of the Kingsguard."
Selene stood with her uncle, descending the steps to embrace him.
"Don't forget me," said Tyrion.
Selene laughed. "I could never," she said, sweeping a kiss on his cheek. She took one of their hands in each of hers, and found she could not look away. For all the wars had taken from her, she thanked the gods they let her keep her dearest uncles.
As they looked back at her, Selene knew they shared her sentiments entirely.
"Come now, brother," Tyrion said grandly. "It seems we have much to celebrate."
Selene's eyes followed them, only noticing Jon when he placed a hand on the small of her back.
"Are you alright?"
"Yes, I think so," she said. "More than alright." She turned her face to his and kissed him.
Jon was gentle with her. When the histories speak of Targaryens, they speak of a harsh people. If only they knew how gentle the truth is.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Arya and Gendry speaking in low voices, before the former left the latter standing there on his own.
"I think your sister just broke my brother's heart."
"I feel sorry for him, I do, but Arya…" Jon struggled to find the words, "it's not in her nature."
"I know," Selene sighed. "I suppose I should go comfort him."
Jon brought her knuckles to his lips, and went to his sisters.
"May I have this dance?"
Gendry blinked. "I don't know how to dance."
Selene took the crook of his arm, "Come, I'll show you."
Leading him to the center of the dance floor, Selene began her instruction. "Take my waist…yes, like that…and now my hand…and just follow the crowd."
Gendry looked about, leading her in small circles around the room. He was painfully unsure on his feet.
"Dancing, I find, is about confidence."
Gendry stared at her feet, "I don't have much of that at the moment."
Selene's eyes were on Arya's back where she spoke with her Stark family. "Some women aren't meant to be wives or mothers."
Gendry flushed scarlet, "I…I just thought…" he sighed. "I love her."
"I know."
"Everything about her, including the reasons she's refused me." Gendry's laugh was hollow. "Funny, isn't it?"
Selene did not laugh. "I'm sorry."
Gendry gave a deep sigh and drew himself to his full height. "I have much to be thankful for."
Selene had to agree. "A lordship, a castle, wealth and titles, to name but a few. As well as-"
"-a family."
Heat rose to Selene's cheeks, and she found herself lost in her brother's gaze.
"I was all alone in the world, but now?" Gendry's smile swallowed his face. "I have a sister, a good brother, and two nephews on the way. And I have you to thank."
"Ser Davos deserves your thanks, not me."
"You could have rejected me, scorned me, hated me-"
"For what crime?"
Gendry gave her a knowing look, "Many would have."
"You're my father's son."
Gendry's smile nearly broke her heart. His gaze shifted to their joined hands. Selene followed his eyes, spying the ring she had gifted him securely on his finger, gleaming in the torchlight.
A throat cleared behind her. "May I steal your sister, my lord?"
Selene brightened, "Ah, ser."
Ser Garlan Tyrell bowed low, "My queen."
"Ser Garlan," Selene said with a nod, mimicking his formality. "No need to resort to thievery." She gave her brother a kiss on the cheek before taking the knight's arm.
Garlan led her surely, the son of Highgarden no stranger to courtly graces. After a few spins had her smiling, he said, "You are a joy on your feet, Your Grace."
"As are you. Enough to tempt me to name you to the Kingsguard, just to keep you close. Though, I imagine the Princess of Dorne may not be too pleased at the prospect."
Ser Garlan laughed, "I would pity anyone stupid enough to stand between Arianne and her heart's desire." As they continued to dance, he said. "You may be my favorite dance partner. Just be sure not to tell a certain princess."
"As long as you don't tell a certain king."
Ser Garlan's laugh was full. "I wouldn't dream of it."
"Speaking of a certain princess…"
The knight's lip twisted, a boyish blush rising in his fair face.
"You would be terrible at cards, ser."
Garlan smiled wide, "My brother plays better than me. Perhaps Your Grace would-"
"Avoiding the subject, are we?" Selene asked with a raised brow.
"Quite the opposite, actually," Garlan said. "Her father has given his blessing."
Selene froze mid-step. "Truly?"
Ser Garlan nodded, his blush deepening.
Selene took his hands in hers, "Congratulations, my friend. My prince," she realized. "You'll be Prince Consort before too long."
"The sooner the better."
Selene's brows furrowed at his wording, but his expectant look told her everything. She drew back, "No."
Ser Garlan looked as proud as a stallion. "Yes."
"No!"
"Yes!" Garlan chuckled, glancing about. "No one knows, Your Grace, so if you could please-"
"Arianne Martell!"
The princess' head turned as Selene stormed up to her, beaming. Before the Martell could blink, Selene threw her arms around the woman's shoulders.
"Forgive your sister," Princess Arianne said to Myrcella and Trystane, the two she had been speaking to before the queen's interruption. "It seems something has come over her."
"Two somethings, actually," Selene said with a hand on her belly. "Seems it's going around," she whispered for the princess' ears alone.
Myrcella and Trystane shared a look of confusion.
"Has any queen ever had a looser tongue?"
"Blame your consort."
"Oh, I intend to," Princess Arianne said as her intended slid an apologetic arm around her shoulders.
"Have you heard, Selene?" Myrcella asked, her cheeks flushed with drink and dance. "We'll be having a dual marriage ceremony upon our return to Dorne!"
"Will you?" Selene asked, feigning shock. "What a happy surprise!"
Arianne rolled her eyes.
"Oh, you must come," Myrcella said.
Prince Trystane, a handsome young man with his sister's look but none of her nature, cleared his throat, "You would do us a great honor, Your Grace."
"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Selene said, her heart swelling as she beheld her dear sister and her new good family. "And please, call me Selene. We'll be family soon enough. And I have a feeling we'll be spending much of our reign visiting Sunspear."
Myrcella released her betrothed's hand to hold her.
Selene returned her sweet sister's embrace.
When she pulled away, Myrcella smirked, her green gaze locked over her shoulder.
King Jon extended a hand.
Queen Selene took it gladly.
She felt the eyes of the realm on them, but she hardly noticed. There was nothing in the world but her hand in Jon's, his eyes as he beheld her, his lips just brushing the soft skin of her ear as he held her close.
As she danced with her husband and king, Selene could not help but remember her dance with a bastard boy all those years ago. How flustered he had been, how nervous she was. As she danced with him now, his eyes alight with delight, her face aglow with their sons in her, Selene could not help but feel excitement for the years, and all the dances, ahead.
And so it end as it began. With a boy, and a girl, and a dance.
Author's Note
Is it raining in here, or is it just my face? This was probably one of my favorite chapters to write. My next one will be a hefty epilogue scheduled for Christmas Eve. A gift from me to you.
Coronation preperation / procession / ceremony song is The Last of the Starks by absolute legend Ramin Djawadi.
Thanks for reading! Please spare a moment to leave a review if you can. See you soon!
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