Hello there.
This chapter will be third person compared to the singular ones I've been doing. This chapter is also called the Dragon's Wedding, was gonna name it the black wedding but it made little sense as there isn't anything black (foreboding) about it.
Now without further adieu, please enjoy and also check out some new concepts for stories in my bio, some branch off into different fandoms and some are resurfacing for another go.
Chapter 61: The Dragon's Wedding
The city of King's Landing was abuzz with men, women, and children, all celebrating the day as Queen Daenerys marries her choice of King Consort, Prince Jon Stark of the North.
due to the Mad Lion blowing up the Great Sept of Baelor, the Queen had the Dragonpit cleaned so the many invitees and smallfolk could relish in this momentous day.
Outside of the city, a massive camp is filling up with thousands of soldiers, the majority being a mix of foreign forces, Dornishmen and Reachmen with the small levies of Westermen and Stormlanders.
On the bay, laid at anchor was over six hundred war galleys as half of the great host would set sail for the North while another half would march up the Kingsroad and meet up with three-thousand Rivermen led by Jonos Bracken and Brynden Blackwood who has stationed themselves at Harrenhal.
Daenerys and Jon stood before the new High Septon, a Valemen named Qorikson. "Under the light of the Seven, you are now one mind, one heart, one soul. Cursed be they who would tear this royal union together." The old man said tying the hands together.
Daenerys wore a gown of ivory, and Jon wore his best Northern leathers and had his hair fashioned for the occasion. Lined below and around the pit are various nobles and common folk and Unsullied and her Dothraki guards. Jorah stood at her side wearing the new silver Kingsguard armor.
"Look upon one another and say the words, my Queen, my King."
Arthur stood beside Mya as Jon struggled to follow the words, "This should've been done at a heart tree," He commented under his breath, repeating his cousin's wish to marry in the ways of the Old Gods.
But Daenerys insisted, as a way to garner support and legitimacy from the Faith which despite his own opinions shadow the realm as a whole.
Mya smirked, "We married the same way, once upon a time." He frowned and looked down then up as Jon and Daenerys kissed, the Septon clearing his throat to speak.
"I now dub thee, King Jon of the House Stark and Consort to our sovereign Queen, Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen! Long may they reign!"
"Long may they reign!" The thousands of attendants cried out and cheered, and Drogon roared in shocking joy as he took flight joining Viserion and Rhaegal who flew in circles above them.
An hour later, the many were crammed into the throne room and enjoying the feast, drink, and music being played and the entire time Arthur and Mya among many other Northman and Riverman in attendance were adorned in their armor and had dirks at their side.
Jon had asked him about it, and Arthur cooly told Jon that the Red Wedding may have been some time ago but the trauma suffered there still left its scars. Jon understood then, and so did the Queen when she inquired about it.
The King of Winter rose from his seat, walking to fill his plate and cups again but ended up bumping into Samwell Tarly.
"So sorry, your Grace. Pardon me... " He didn't know if his mood was permanently sour but he couldn't help himself and stepped in front of the Grand Maester, making the Watchmen freeze.
"You are my brother's friend, the fat one." Samwell frowned at being called fat, "You killed a White Walker, what did it feel like?" He asked and Sam described it.
"The moment the dragonglass pierced its skin, it shattered into fractals like crushed dust from glass." He hummed, "Now excuse me." He stopped the slayer again, this time placing a hand on Samwell's shoulder.
"You are lucky to have such a person as to grant you pardon from your vows, my brother at least died to fulfill his before leaving." He leaned in, the wine getting him angered, "Be thankful, if it were me... You'd be a headless Tarly, oathbreaker." He shoved his way past a fearful Sam.
A sober Dread Wolf was dangerous, a drunk one even more so as Sam rushed to get some food and quickly told Jon that he would be turning in early for the night, the new King Consort was suspicious but the pawing of his first wife and second love was distracting.
As the night was reaching its zenith, Jon and Daenerys retreated to the royal chambers to consummate their marriage to one another.
It was a game in a way, the both of them removing various articles of clothing, till all there was were skin and dark eyes looking into violet ones. "We can stop, you know... I can wait- " Jon tried to say but Daenerys approached and kissed him, their naked bodies touching one another as they fell back onto the bed.
The pact of Ice and Fire, agreed upon by Dragonstone was cemented when the Queen straddled her King and together shared warmth and pleasure throughout the night.
The memories of Drogo ceased. The cave Jon had with Ygritte lay forgotten and both committed to one another their hearts, their souls, their very being.
Both fell back on the bed, breathing heavily and Jon tilted his head and stroked the Queen's cheek with his left hand. "You are striking, my Queen, I knew it since I opened my eyes to you after defeating Euron Greyjoy." His Queen, now and always.
Daenerys smiled and leaned toward her husband, kissing him passionately. Her mind flashed to a few weeks ago, she and Jon went back to the Dragonpit and did what she intended to do before she was given the gift of her Lord Commander of the Queensguard's return.
Jon looked at her nervously, "I'm not too sure about this, Dany." She held Rhaegal's head gently stroking his face as Jon held on to the saddle made for him.
"You'll do fine... Just do what I do."
They took flight, he was jittery and scared for the first several minutes but over time she noticed he was enjoying the feeling as she had when she flew Drogon for the second time.
Now that was weeks ago, he's had plenty of practice and now they have two dragon riders to fight the dead.
Elsewhere within the castle, Varys poured Tyrion a cup of Arbor Red then gave himself a cup as they sat in the council chambers seeing the Tower was burned down because of Tyrion's assassination of his father and the enraged response by the former Queen, Cersei.
"Congratulations, Lord Hand, securing a marriage for our Queen and hopefully in time, a child will be born from this day."
Tyrion grinned, "More than that, a child with Stark blood running through his or her veins."
The Lord of Casterly Rock laid the groundwork for unifying the Kingdoms, the Seven Kingdoms may not be one now but in the future when her graces heir takes the crown, he should have little struggle in making their cousins in Winterfell bend the knee.
Varys rose a brow at him, "Playing the game a little early, my Lord?" Tyrion scoffed and chuckled.
"The game never ends, not until her grace has broken the wheel... And I have yet to see it done so, in the meantime, we will play one final grand game." He said and Varys shook his head.
"Northmen aren't very cordial with the rules, I'm afraid... " Varys set down his own cup, averting Tyrion's gaze for a moment which did less to not catch his attention.
"Oh, and what do you know?"
Varys sighed, "A day after Ser Jorah returned, the Queen took flight with her dragons." He shrugged, wondering what that was supposed to mean, "Jon Stark RODE Rhaegal, when in the entire history we know that a dragon allowed anyone not of Valyrian blood to ride them?"
Tyrion's eyes widened and were in shock, "But I was near them too, back in Meereen if you so recall? This means nothing."
"You freed them, you didn't attempt to ride them. There is something odd about those brothers, they aren't just Stark bastards, Arthur even has a known Valyrian feature in his eyes." Gods the suspicion of this man, and he bothered him about playing the game.
"So does their mother, Varys, the Daynes are a purple-eyed people." And Ashara is stunning even when not so young as the women he normally fancied. "You are grasping at straws, friend. Are you honestly suggesting that Ned Stark has been harboring Targaryen children under his best friend and brother's nose for almost twenty years?"
Varys huffed, tired of debating and being told he was crazy about his theory, "Ned went south for his sister in the Rebellion, he returned with a corpse and fewer companions... Plus two newborn children. Think on that, Lord Hand." The Master of Whispers left then, and Tyrion stewed in his own thoughts.
The howl of Arthur and Jon's direwolves brought him back and he scoffed, "Rubbish, it's all rubbish." Eddard Stark and Ashara Dayne tumbled and were given bastards for their trouble, nothing more to think about.
Tyrion then remembered how honorable the man seemed back in Winterfell before the war and every other mess, he was annoyingly stubborn and stuck in his ways, that even when his brother told him he avenged Rickard and Brandon, the Lord spat it out like venom or so that's how his brother said one day before Joffrey croaked.
The Hand of the King slowly lost grip of his cup, "Fuck." The wine spilled out onto the hard floor and two red lines rolled towards the fire and one got the there whilst the other didn't.
Another headache to deal with but with the war on the horizon, even Tyrion knows it's better to let sleeping dogs lie.
Two months later, Jon and Daenerys flew over the grand host of soldiers going up the Kingsroad. And on the war galley, Mya stood beside Asha, Nymeria, and Donnel Waynwood.
At the prowl of the ship was Arthur Stark, his eyes on the war for the dawn and a raven scroll explained the dire need to hurry this along... The letter wrote, "The dead march on Eastwatch."
Viserion flew overhead and Arthur looked upwards, seeing the cream-colored dragon flying North and turning to rejoin his scaly brothers, miles away from the royal fleet sailing to first retrieve anymore dragonglass and continue on.
Winter is coming, and Arthur felt a snowflake touch his hand.
Back at King's Landing, the coming winter has started to arrive and within hours the city was covered in white. Tyrion called forth a Council meeting to discuss the new threats to the South and smoothen things out for the Queen's eventual return.
His small hands laid on the table, and he sighed with a smile despite the looming shadow covering that of the Queen and her new mysterious consort who he thought he knew, "... Let's begin."
AN: So begins the end, the next chapters will cover the Long Night and then a three-chapter epilogue.
I never liked how they nerfed Tyrion, preferring his character that loves to tease and torment and above all else play the game and I believe if he ever knew or assumed a hidden truth in Jon that he'd keep it lowkey until the war against the dead is over. I brought in some lore about the dragons and wondered why someone like Varys who is quite knowledgable didn't find it weird Jon just mounted up on Rhaegal like he was a horse.