A/N: How're you doing? Hope things are all ok.

Sit, relax, and enjoy.

Chapter 15: Aegon the Conqueror

"What in seven hells was that?!"

Princess Rhaena had been in a daze since she left the great hall of the Dragonpalace… hells, since the final flourish of her sensual Valyrian dance with her uncle Maegor. All eyes had been on her, all attention drawn to the once shy princess now displayed for the entire world to see as the most desirable maiden in the Realm. It was a heady feeling in and of itself.

If the eligible Lords and knights of the Realm had sought out Rhaena for dances or conversations beforehand, following the dance the chorus had tripled. But Rhaena turned them down, instead insisting on sitting among her family for the arrival of the main courses of food - right next to her uncle in spite of the disapproval written on her mother's face. But her negation were overcome by her friends, who practically pushed her beside Maegor… not that Rhaena would ever deny such an invitation by her uncle.

The way he held her, the way his muscles rippled under the house colors of his doublet, the way his eyes both sparkled and darkened as they looked at her… Rhaena shivered just remembering it.

She missed the clusters of Lords that chattered around the royal table. She missed the tension between the various members of her family. She missed the moments she had witnessed before the dance - so consumed by the heady feeling of her uncle that all else for Rhaena was masked…

Until she saw Aegon storming towards her, jaw set in anger. 'Valonqar," she replied. "What is it?" She had seen him petulant and ired before, but never this angry.

Aegon couldn't think straight. The feast had been enjoyable, especially the time he danced with the impossibly beautiful Alys Harroway - her father wasn't of high blood but none mattered to him, intoxicated he was by her - but seeing Rhaena dancing hotly with his uncle arose something inside him. The dragon temper burned green with jealousy. "Don't pretend to be ignorant, sister."

"I honestly don't know what you are referring to," she shot back. "And don't take that tone with me."

He shook his head at her intransigence. She has to be deliberately taunting me. "That display you did with uncle. If you wanted to show all your disgusting suitors just how little you thought of their pathetic advances then bravo. You succeeded beyond your wildest imaginations."

Rhaena blinked. "Are you japing me? Firstly, the offers only increased after the dance…"

Snorting, Aegon lifted up his hands in frustration. "You have no idea the machinations of court, given you spent most of the last four years on Dragonstone with grandmother."

"Allow me to finish," she said firmly. "And second, how is it your doing to meddle in whom I dance with or not?" Rhaena crossed her arms, growing increasingly miffed by this. "You're not kepa. He was fine with it."

"Kepa's an idiot!"

"Do not speak of him like that," she shouted back.

"Because you're meant to be my bride!" The declaration by him stunned her into silence. Sure, that was the anticipated default, but he usually talked it as such… not something he actually desired. Rhaena smelled a hint of wine on his breath. Aegon wasn't drunk, but the wine clearly lowered his inhibitions. "You and I, Rhaena. King and Queen."

She shook her head. "No betrothal has been yet made, valonqar."

"It will happen regardless and I have been looking forward to it…" But his expression darkened. "But now you fell for our uncle."

"What?"

"You heard me, don't deny it."

"I am not in love with our uncle." Liar. "What you're doing is ridiculous."

Aegon sneered. "Did you fuck him already?" Her eyes widened. Even arrogant, her brother never spoke this way. "Spreading your legs and allowing our married uncle to take your maidenhead? When was it? Yesterday, tonight even?"

Longing to slap him, Rhaena restrained herself - though she seethed. "I shall forget you said those things to be because we are siblings, but I won't listen to your drunken rantings any longer." She turned to leave…

But was stopped by his hand shooting out to grab her wrist. "Don't you dare walk away from me!" he bellowed, squeezing the wrist tight enough to make her wince. Instinctively, she wheeled around and smashed her fist into his shoulder. Not expecting it, Aegon grunted and pitched back, letting go of her wrist.

Rhaena stared incredulously at her brother, jaw dropped in a stunned silence. One that quickly changed to anger. "You'd dare touch me?"

From the pain in his shoulder to the fire in his sister's eyes, Aegon found his good sense returning to him. "Rhae… please…" he pleaded. "I didn't mean…"

While he reached for her, Rhaena slapped his hands away. "You'd dare lay a hand on me? Your own sister?!"

"It was a mistake, please. Forgive me, it wasn't my intention."

She believed him. The dragon temper was… hard to control at times even for her grandparents or uncle. "I won't hold this against you, valonqar," Rhaena told him, seeing Aegon sag in relief. "Provided you learn to control your temper."

His head bobbed up and down. "Thank you, Rhae."

But her eyes hardened again. Stepping forward, Rhaena shoved her finger into his chest. "But hear me now, Aegon Targaryen. I am not your property. I do not belong to you - I expect my love and affections to be earned and not assumed." She found she enjoyed how he squirmed at her cold furor. "If you, in jealousy or stupidity or anger, ever try to claim me - ever try to lay a hand on me again, I will cut off your cock and feed it to Dreamfyre. Are we clear?" In the face of the woken dragon, Aegon nodded. "Don't speak to me for the next few days."

Rubbing the point in which she poked him, Aegon couldn't deny her that. "I understand, sister. And I'm truly sorry."

"I know you are, but I need to have time to forgive you for this." Rhaena met his gaze once more. "Goodnight, valonqar." He said not one more word to her, but she could feel his eyes track her until she turned the corner towards her bedchamber.

Once out of his sight, her poise and composure left her. Rhaena sagged, a pained frown finding her lips and her eyes watering from sorrow. Aegon may have been prideful and smug at times but they were always so close. What happened?

And yet Rhaena likely knew. It was obvious, and it terrified her for what she told him was a lie. She would never let Aegon earn her love or affections because there was none to give. My heart is already hopelessly given to another.

Rhaena's heart belonged to her uncle. Abrupt as it was, she couldn't deny it or rationalize it - and he would never be hers, nor she be anyone else's. Silently, her tears fell from her eyes to the ground as she walked through her father's manse.

Brows furrowing, Visenya gazed at her lady in waiting with an unsure look. "I have never encountered such a ritual before in my readings. Are you certain it is legitimate?"

"Yes, I am, your Grace." Tyanna still wore the same yellow-orange gown from the feast, but her hair was pulled into a severe bun rather than the lustrous tresses that flowed free during the festivities. It added to the solemnity that was about to transpire. "Most dragonlords relied on their dragon dreams if they wished to glimpse the future, but you seek answers now."

"The maeges of old performed this?"

"Quite regularly, and the priests of R'hllor use something similar for their flame-gazing… though without dragonsblood it isn't as effective." Stepping onto the grassy plain jutting into the sea just behind the great hall, stars twinkling brightly above them in a panoply of beauty, Tyanna bit her lip. "I will warn you, they aren't as accurate as a dragon dream."

Visenya was curious. "How so?"

"One of the reasons your ancestor, Daenys the Dreamer, wasn't believed of the Doom was due to the College of Augers determining through this very ritual that no calamity was coming." Her mother and her grandmother before her had speculated on the very nature of this - of how the ritual could be accurate and yet misleading. "The gods, they are mysterious and shrouded. I caution your interpretations."

"Duly noted." Visenya couldn't risk waiting for dragon dreams. She needed to know the sort of danger they faced, especially for the near term. The Realm is at peace, but for how long?

While the massive block of the great hall loomed large over the high hill, there was still enough untilled grass at the cliff face itself for Vhagar to land. They hadn't yet built the outer walls, let alone the defenses for the seaward side, perfect for the bronze-scaled dragon to make an easy landing. But this wouldn't be allowed for long. As the Dragonpalace continued to be built and expanded, the ability for a large dragon to land here was severely curtailed. The royal family would need a special place for the dragons to reside somewhere in the city.

Those concerns put away for another time, Visenya immediately went to her. "Hello, my sweet," she murmured affectionately in High Valyrian, rubbing her snout.

What is it this time, muna?

She raised an eyebrow. "My my, are we testy tonight.," she scolded.

The great beast almost seemed to mewl in apology. Forgive me, muna, but Balerion kept me and the babes fishing all day and I'm exhausted.

Visenya giggled - that sounded like Balerion, and her dragons' insistence in referring Arrax, Quicksilver, and Dreamfyre 'the babes' was still amusing. Better than how Balerion dubbed them 'the pests.' "Don't worry, my sweet. This shan't take long." Vhagar trilled in response, nuzzling Visenya's chest as if a hatchling.

Watching the scene, Tyanna was still amazed. Never mind being around the King, Queen, and Rhaena while they interacted with their dragons as one would a child or sibling, it never ceased to bring her awe. She held Valyrian blood through her mother's line, but they were blood maeges, not dragonriders. Tyanna couldn't comprehend the depth of the bond between them no matter how much Rhaena tried to explain it to her.

It was no wonder why many were dazzled by the family that had conquered Westeros. Such majesty inspired loyalty as readily as rain spurred growth. "Your Grace, we may begin," she said gently.

Eyes flickering to her, the aging Queen nodded. In a bag slung from her shoulder, Tyanna produced from it a tiny glass vial, handing it to Visenya. She unsheathed a dragonglass knife that she carried and slit open her hand. "Ah…" Visenya winced, making sure the blood dripped into the open vial. Rolling up her sleeve - she really did like the dress - the Queen held out her arm with the vial in front of Vhagar's snout. "Dracarys."

Careful not to burn or harm anything else, Vhagar coughed a tiny torrent of flame. Only enough to envelop the hand and the forearm of her muna. The dragonfire caused Tyanna to stumble back even though she was three strides away. Gods, it was hot.

Visenya though was unharmed, as was the blood. "Here," she told Tyanna, handing it to her.

"Too hot," Tyanna waved off. "Please pour it into the bowl." When the blood mixed inside the dragonglass vessel, the Pentosi maege whispered a chant in High Valyrian, adding a special wine, milk of the poppy, and some herbs. Soon, she was done. "Drink."

"How long will this affect me?"

"However long the gods wish to grant you what you seek. Now drink."

Shrugging, the Queen drank. Her face blanched from the horrid taste but she made herself guzzle the disgusting brew down her gullet. Eyes shut and shaking her head. Perhaps this was a mistake…

Opening her eyes, she found herself not at the cliffside, but in darkness. One soon lifted as orange-red torchlight illuminated the square of King's Landing. A massive bonfire emerged, dozens, then hundreds of shadows leaping upon it to stoke the flames higher and higher until they rose like Kingspyre tower into the sky.

Out of the flames emerged two dragons, one black and one a serene blue, shrieking and ascending into the moonlit sky. They grew as they soared, soon reaching the size of Balerion and Vhagar.

"My daughter." Visenya turned and found her mother's form staring at her. Her eyes were hardened, stern. "Danger awaits you."

Visenya opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. It was as if the gods sought for her to listen, not contribute.

Raising her arm, her mother seemed to toss the Queen into the midst of a bombardment of noises and visions. "The masses, rising to destroy that which they once loved."

A scene of ants swarming over the skeleton of a dragon hatchling morphed into a weirwood tree, beset by shadows swinging axes. "The Corpses of the Doom," her mother continued as some of the shadows sprouted wings upon their backs, flying up to hack at the weirwood's branches. "Advancing on a dying beast."

Again she tried to speak. Again she was stopped.

The images disappeared, replaced by dancing patterns of red and blue. "Ice and fire, stronger together than alone."

The blue morphed to red. "Fire and fire, through them the salvation of your House shall be forged."

The red changed back to blue, though this was pulsing, alive. The remaining red swirled, as if a freezing wind. "Cold fire, burning ice, the future of our world. Of our people."

Suddenly, Visenya regained her faculties of speech. "Muna!" she called out into a void of darkness. "What does this mean?! Tell me!"

"Keep your family close, watch your subjects."

"Muna!"

"Remember your blood…"

Almost tripping over her feet, Visenya felt her limbs tingle. Head spinning. "Your Grace? Are you alright?"

Finding Tyanna's worried face, the Queen nodded. "Aye, I'm fine." The dizziness was already dissipating.

"What did you see?"

Blinking, Visenya remembered the vision clearly. Beyond that… "I, I cannot be sure. It was vivid, but still shrouded in mystery."

"Do you wish to try again, seek some clarity?" Unlike with shade of the evening, the favored tool of the Ghiscari and Warlocks of Qarth, there was more leeway with this ritual before one's mind became lost.

But Visenya shook her head. "No, no it's fine. I wish to return to my husband."

'Ice and fire, fire and fire. Cold fire, burning ice.' The words were embedded in her mind, but what could they mean?

'Corpses of the Doom, advancing on a dying beast.' What did any of it mean?

"Yer' alright, my Prince?"

"Hmmm?" Blinking, Maegor was brought out of whatever thoughts had clouded his mind, drawn back into the embrace of his lover. "Forgive me, my mind was elsewhere."

Ralla laughed, pulling his head tighter atop her busty chest while her hand gently stroked his bare shoulder. "I could guess. Even when we were fuckin', you had your attention on somethin' else." She had been surprised when he showed up only twenty minutes before, given the feast that occurred earlier in the night. But Maegor was insistent, demanding and it drove Ralla wild as always. Here she was, freshly fucked and yet she could tell something troubled him. "Wanna talk about it?"

He sighed, enjoying Ralla's heartbeat. It soothed him from his tumult. "No, it's fine."

"Ya' don't 'ave to be so strong round me, my Prince." Even if their affair could end, and Ralla was under no illusion that it would last longer than his marital problems - while he and the 'pretty one' had been happy together, her bed was empty… at least empty of him - they were friends. They had survived much together. She, as was her entire clan, was loyal to him directly. "Talk to me."

"It's fine." He hauled himself up. "Just exhausted after dancing with Rhaena." A chuckle left his lips. "Scandalized my goodsister and the rest of the snotty cunts." It had been hilarious, especially since his family approved other than Alyssa and his eldest nephew.

Raising an eyebrow, Ralla seemed to understand. "Rhaena, yer' pretty niece. Thinkin' of pullin' yer' father?"

"Pulling my father?" Pulling on his trousers and tunic, Maegor's brow furrowed… until he understood. His eyes widened. "What? With Rhaena, no!" He looked alarmed. "Of course not."

A snort. "I know you too well, dragon. Yer' thinkin' about it."

"She's ten and four."

"Older than I was when I had mi' first couplin'." She laughed at the red blotch on his cheeks. "Don't try and deny it, and I thought yer' family was all about that kinda marriage?"

He shook his head. "This conversation is over, Ralla. Goodnight." He kissed her on the cheek and made his exit.

"You can deny it all ye' want, but you can't fool me!" Her giggles filled his mind as he headed out of the servant's wing of the manse where Ralla and the wildlings stayed towards the actual royal quarters. Rhaena… my bride? No, of course not. She was his beloved niece, the little girl whom he rescued from her own shyness and helped turn into a mighty dragon.

A beautiful dragon. She's not a little girl anymore. Maegor shook his head. He couldn't be having those thoughts. Not of his brother's child…

Not Alyssa's child.

Ser Jon Tollett, one of Maegor's occasional and preferred sparring partners whenever he was in King's Landing, clicked his heels as the Prince arrived at his chambers. "Your Grace."

"Ser Jon," Maegor nodded. "Is my wife here?"

"Aye, the Princess awaits you in your chambers."

"Good. Evening, Ser Jon."

He opened the door for the Prince. "You as well, your Grace."

Maegor was ashamed to admit to himself, but he didn't spend as much intimate time with his wife as he should've - not nearly enough. Early in their marriage, the general custom for the husband and wife to possess separate chambers and only share one bed when it came time to couple was discarded by mutual consent. Not that they didn't couple. Far from it, the passionate nights were quite pleasing and often continued long after sunrise, but they never strayed from each other's arms. It built their marriage strong.

At least until their babes… or what would have been their babes. Ceryse retreated into her socializing, while Maegor into sparring, missions on behalf of his father, or Ralla's arms. Once a week they would share a bed, if that and he hated himself for it.

But he couldn't look at her without thinking of… no, he wouldn't destroy himself like that. Shield your heart. A man always on the verge of destruction cannot afford flights of fancy. Brandon taught him that, and the lesson had served him well in his battles.

When they did sleep together at night, Maegor normally found Ceryse at her vanity or fast asleep. But the fire still crackled in the hearth, bathing the empty table in a soft orange glow. Following his line of sight, he could see Ceryse. She laid in bed, but not underneath the blankets and furs. "Evening, husband," she said in a tone that sounded seductive, clad in nothing but a sheer nightgown that hugged her curves.

Gulping, Maegor couldn't deny she looked beautiful. "Wife." He toed off his boots and slipped off his trousers - it wasn't cold enough to sleep with them on, leaving but a tunic and underclothes.

Ceryse appreciated her husband's form. Even after everything, she knew she was a lucky woman to have snagged him. Not in other respects… "Come to bed, my Prince," she said sultrily, bidding him forward with her finger.

It reminded him of the early days of their marriage. Of the happy time they shared - oh, how he longed to simply dive into bed as he did before and ravage her, take advantage of his youth and power. But something stilled him. An ever so slight hitch in her voice. She's acting… a mummer's play. Ceryse was forcing herself to do this in spite of discomfort and pain.

Oh, the love was there. He knew it because he felt it too, but there wasn't simply love as when they were first married. Much had joined that emotion between them - emotions nowhere near as welcome.

So, he merely walked to the bed, slipping atop the covers. "What is this, wife?"

"A wife cannot love her husband?" she replied, shimmying over to him. Immediately straddling his waist and kissing Maegor. For a blissful moment, the Prince was lost in the wonderful embrace. In the warm lips and passionate tongue that threatened to swallow him whole. Encouraged by his moans and grip of her hips, her hands ghosted down the hard planes of his stomach.

They came in a flash. Two handsome boys sparring, one with pure silver hair and the other chestnut brown - both with violet eyes as they laughed and fought as the stories his father spoke of him and Orys as youths. Of a beautiful girl, colored as his mother but daintier as she danced about, singing happily. Of another girl, violet eyed and raven-haired as she murmured something into a bonfire.

Four gorgeous babes. The family he most yearned for, all dancing before his eyes like the worst of torture.

As he stiffened, Ceryse felt herself pushed back. She gaped at him incredulously, but he could only offer an apologetic wince. "I can't. It's… I just can't."

Not again… I was so close… She took a deep breath, it wasn't anything she couldn't handle. "Please, my love. I miss you." Ceryse hugged him, and felt hope when he didn't pull away. "Just relax, Maegor."

"I'm trying, Ceryse," he said softly. She didn't deserve any blame for this. "It's… it's just hard."

"I know… which is why I think it's time for us to try for another babe." It was said sweetly, happily, as if it was the joyous occasion as their first and second tried for it had been.

Hearing the words, Maegor looked down at her with wide eyes. "What? No!" He recoiled, scrambling out of bed to her shock and hurt. "No, it's too soon."

"It's not too soon!" she cried, feeling the worst sort of pain and betrayal. "Do you not love me?"

"Of course I do."

She pounded her fist on the bed. "Then make love to me! Give me a child, husband. I yearn for it, crave it… I have prayed daily to the Mother for fertility, this time won't be like the last, I promise!" Every babe lost, it was like a part of her died, but her husband was still here. The man she married, the man she sought and loved.

His heart was beating out of his chest. I love you… of course I want a babe with you. The imaged flashed in his mind again, the most potent of elixirs… but they filled with new images, memories of blood-stained sheets, of Ceryse crying for days, for weeks where he couldn't do anything to mollify her… where he couldn't do anything for himself but bury it lest it destroy him. No, he couldn't take that pain again - losing another child would cause his heart to burst. Shield your heart… shield your heart.

The hurt and agony Ceryse felt - like her husband had stabbed her in the heart - changed into a cold anger. "You were with that whore again weren't you?"

He was shocked for a moment, before his own eyes narrowed. "Don't you dare speak of her as such."

"Oh, am I not accurate enough. Your wildling savage whore?"

Maegor's fists clenched. "Hold your tongue, woman."

Ceryse laughed, too far gone to care if she hurt him - she was hurt beyond what she could take. The insults at court, the stares of pity and amusement the other ladies gave her, the humiliation… her husband's rejection was the last straw for the highborn Lady of House Hightower, Kings when House Targaryen were goatherders in Old Valyria. She would not become a joke as many highborn wives did. "Why should I bother. All of court knows you sleep with her instead of me." She tilted her head. "Is that why you can't have a babe with me anymore? You've decided to use her womb for your breeding…"

A fist slammed into her vanity, punching through the wood and shutting her up. Maegor's hand hurt like hells, but he didn't care. "Do not speak of things you do not understand."

"Oh, I understand plenty, husband…" Unlike before, the term of affection was instead said bitingly. "Or is there someone else you have your eye on? I mean, a wildling isn't fit to bear heirs for a Prince… oh, I see." She laughed. "Your niece Rhaena." He looked at her with pure rage, and Ceryse knew she hit a nerve. "She is gorgeous, I cannot lie. Perhaps you wish to make your mother's plan a reality six years after the fact?"

Before Maegor could stop himself, he had lunged. Pinning Ceryse to the bed with murder in his eye and a fist raised - ready to strike her. But looking down, his expression dimmed. Her anger was gone, replaced with fear. With terror. He had seen it before in enemies cowering before him on the battlefield, but never with his wife.

Because of him.

Retreating, looking at his hands, Maegor grabbed his trousers and rushed out. He couldn't look at himself, couldn't look at her. He brushed past a maid carrying a steaming teacup, one of his wife's servants. She took in his expression and peeked in the room. "Your Grace? Are you alright?"

Ceryse shook her head. "Leave me." The maid immediately shut the door. Tears welling in her eyes, Ceryse grabbed the pillow and buried her face in it, sobs wracking her body. How did it all go so wrong?

Listening, the maid snorted softly. Turns out the Princess didn't need the tea tonight after all.

Entering her chambers, Visenya was greeted by a pleasant sight. "Welcome back, my Queen," her husband murmured. The hearth was roaring, but so were dozens of candles interspersed amongst the large bedchamber. He held two filled goblets. "You were gone too long for my liking." It wasn't chiding… more along the lines of how Vhagar grew whiny and sad when she was late to a dragonride.

Mind still in a funk from her visions, Visenya softened at the intimate gesture from her husband. "What is this?" she smiled.

"A King cannot care for his Queen?" His eyes sparkled with love. "Nor a brother for his sister."

"Few brothers would do this for their sisters," she quipped, but her heart melted. Aegon was always described as brooding, fearsome, and larger than life, but they didn't know the sweet, loving man Visenya did. "But thank you for this." It warmed her.

He handed her one of the goblets. "The love I have for you doesn't deserve to be watched and gawked at by those monkeys at court. Only for us and us alone."

Taking the goblet in her hand, Visenya gave her husband a sultry smile as she sipped it. "Hmmm…" the taste was… unexpected. "Tyroshi pear brandy, valonqar?"

"We're alone, none of that sickly sweet Arbor swill or sour Dornish piss. My Queen deserves the best."

"And the fact that this particular vintage always drives me to lust never occurred to you?" Visenya smirked.

Aegon had the sweet courtesy to look sheepish - like a man just come of age seeking to lose his maidenhood, in spite of the lands he conquered, keeps he'd immolated, and children he'd sired of her and their little sister. "Perhaps that did cross my mind."

Finishing the rest of the tart liquor, Visenya set the goblet down on the table, hands on her hips. "I came to terms long ago with the fact you are a filthy lecher." But she laughed throatily afterwards, walking to him and circling his waist. "However, you are fortunate that I happen to love that fact. It has only brought me pleasure over the years."

His brow rose. "Tell me of this pleasure you find." He was smirking now, mirroring her.

"Seeking your sister to indulge your ego, valonqar?"

"Would you prefer I seek someone else to indulge my ego, big sister?"

Her eyes darkened, fingers digging in his lower back before rising - grabbing his neck. "Never," Visenya growled. "I don't share what's mine." And with that she brought their lips together. His tongue tasted of the pear brandy, sweet and tart as she plundered his mouth.

Aegon pulled her flush against him. No matter the years that passed, she still held a beauty that eclipsed all others. "Vis…" he murmured, dropping down to work at her neck.

She moaned, body squirming as he sucked her pulse. So deliciously playing at her body with an expertise built by familiarity and practice. One touch from him and I am a puddle… Bucking her hips for a desperately needed friction, Visenya felt a hardness poking into her abdomen. "Someone is eager." Egg grunted, drawing her earlobe into his mouth. "Don't make me wait," Egg," she moaned. "Please, I need…"

He needn't wait for her to continue. Lips locked in a duel no less furious than the hours-long spars in their youth, Aegon stripped her of her dress, shoving Visenya on the bed. The Queen gasped from lust, taking advantage of his mauling of her breasts - an action she adored - by deftly peeling off his doublet and trousers. Soon enough they were both bare, primed to explode as Visenya sucked his length as Aegon supped her cunt simultaneously… a favorite position of theirs.

But as she dug her fingers in his back, Visenya was a mess. Neither of them had climaxed yet, Aegon clearly eager to draw out her pleasure in a form of torture. She hated him for it… no, fuck, she loved him for it. "Oh gods… oh fuck… harder, valonqar, harder!" She was a cauldron of swirling flame seeking release. Visenya couldn't stand it, instinctively sliding her hand down her stomach. Finding the bundle of nerves and rubbing it quickly - seeking to find that blessed release her husband's coupling always drove her to. Every time.

But the effort was ended abruptly as Aegon grabbed her hand. Pinning her wrists above her head as she watched his almost furious glare - violet eyes black. "You cum when I say you cum," he growled.

Visenya almost came then and there at his draconic furor. "Kessa." She bit back a scream as he began pounding her harder and harder, threatening to split her open. "Fuck me, husband." The Queen loved it when he took control and made her a vessel for his pleasure.

"Don't hold back," he husked, not slackening even once. "Scream for your little brother."

Her ecstasy got the best of Visenya with his words. Screaming wildly, her eyes rolled into the back of her head as Aegon took a nipple between his teeth, sucking hard with the sensation going straight to her core. Her walls were tightening quickly, heralding a massive climax. Eyelids growing heavy, she needed her brother-husband to spend himself inside her. Craved it, thirsted for it. Visenya bucked her hips, meeting him thrust for thrust.

It sparked a fire in Aegon. Roaring, he threw a leg over his shoulder and fucked her harder. Deepor, ever so deeper.

That did it. "Valonqar!"

Her walls pulsating around his cock, it drove Aegon to the end. He grunted and gasped, seed shooting into her womb as they rode out their intense climax.

Visenya's eyes were screwed shut, the Queen trying to catch her breath and collect herself from what had just transpired. She was soaked in sweat and her heart pounded in her chest. Slowly, the powerful weight of her husband eased off of her, cock sliding out of her cunt with a wince from her and a groan from him. Automatically, she rolled to his side, arm draped round his chest. "I apologize for ever calling you old, little brother."

Aegon buried his face in her hair, inhaling the heady scent of spice and charred wood. "Apology accepted, though I do admit your teases do drive me further to prove my vitality."

"I have been thoroughly proven wrong," she chuckled, further nuzzling herself against his chest. Getting comfortable. "If only we were young again. I'd spend a week in bed with you and Rhae before I was sated."

"The conquest would've been delayed, though I wouldn't have minded in the slightest." Aegon held her tightly, trying to calm his racing heart. His fierce, beautiful dragon queen truly drove him to his limits. A yawn overcame him, Aegon stretching his limp legs. "Gods… I love you, big sister." He sighed against her silver hair. "I've and I shall always love you."

Sleepily, Visenya smiled and moaned from the calming pleasure of his sweet words. "I love you too, valonqar." Dreamland began to eat at her consciousness. "To another thirty-five years with you."

The King chuckled lightly into her hair, sleep slowly falling upon him as well. "I could only be so lucky." Two powerful dragons, joined together as closely as the creatures they bonded to. As they did nearly every night, the Targaryen conquerors drifted into slumber wound tightly in each other's arms.

The first time he had journeyed into the land of white - of the elysian plains of vibrant grasses and skies the color of the purest snow - Aegon had been confused. Scared even of a world he didn't understand or recognize. Now, the otherworldly glow of sleep surrounding his soul, he beamed. This land heralded the arrival of one person and one person only… someone he truly missed with every fiber of his being.

"Egg," she called out from behind him.

Aegon turned and immediately scooped Rhaenys up. "My beautiful Rhae," he proclaimed, twirling her around as he did in their youth. Gods, she was just as beautiful as he remembered, even moreso. "I love you."

"I love you too," she replied back, kissing him. "Your sight brings my heart warmth."

"Always a poet at heart," he laughed. "Vis and I both hated that we loved it." Sighing happily in Rhaenys' arms, Aegon felt at peace. He always was when he could hold his two brides, Visenya in the mortal realm and Rhaenys in the godly. "I love these dreams, Rhae. We both miss you terribly."

Rhae would always respond to such loving words with a kiss… many times leading to something even more pleasurable, but this time she acted strangely. Merely pulling back and gazing into his eyes with a sad smile. "Oh, Egg," she murmured.

He raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong?"

"I'm afraid this isn't a dream."

Blinking in confusion, it took a moment for his look of puzzlement to morph in recognition. "Oh…" It changed to surprise, then to acceptance… and finally to the deepest sorrow. His shoulders slumping, his eyes worn and filling with tears. "Vis…" Aegon murmured.

Rhaenys nodded. "Aye, Vis." The two embraced again, eyes wet with tears for their eldest sister - now alone in the world.

A/N: RIP Aegon the Conqueror. Few could ever fill his shoes.

As we can see, Ceryse and Maegor have some problems to work through.

25 comments and I post the next chapter in a week. See the aftermath of Egg's death.