A/N: Hey guys. Sorry, lots of stuff happened that delayed the promised update, but it's here now.
Enjoy and comment!
"Mother, can you hand me a new inkpot," Tyrion remarked, holding up his dry quill as if his puppy had died. "I've seemed to run out."
Seated at his desk, Lyarra behind him and helping sort out his papers as she was known to do, Tywin looked up with a glare. "Do not call her that."
Tyrion shrugged. "She's the closest thing I have to a mother, dear father… lest you'd rather call Aunt Genna my 'mother.' She did raise me afterall."
Tension still extensive between the father and son in spite of many decades of peace since Joanna's death, Tywin gritted his teeth and planned another verbal barrage when he felt Lyarra's soft hands on his shoulder. "Calm down, husband, this isn't worth anything." Shockingly enough, Tywin did as bidded, shoulders slumping and leaning back in his chair. Kissing his forehead, Lyarra smiled and handed Tyrion the asked for full inkpot. "Here you go."
"Thank you, mother," Tyrion chuckled, immediately dipping his quill and resuming his furious scribbling. "You must teach me how to do that…"
"Do what?"
"Calm him down so quickly. I mean, people from his Grace to my lowly nieces and nephews would pay every coin in their coffers to know how to handle Tywin Lannister."
Lyarra laughed while Tywin sat, steaming. "Do you have somewhere else to be, Tyrion? Even a deformed lion still seeks out their own pride."
He was beyond insults at this point. Dwarves and Bastards… a thick skin. "And deprive you and mother the pleasure of my company? I think not."
"An acquired taste, to be sure. One I still haven't, as my King's penchant for peppers from the summer isles." Lyarra and Tyrion shared a chuckle over that - the dragons with their unburnt nature enjoyed heartily spicy foods that scorched the tongue of any normal person. When a trader from the Summer Isles brought a collection of red, green, and orange peppers to sell to the royal family, Rhaegar, Daemon, Rhaenys, and Daenerys scarfed down a meal filled with them while the others, even the hearty Dornish Queen Elia, couldn't make it one bite. Willing away that memory, Tywin massaged his temples and looked again at Tyrion. "Why are you here anyway?"
"Making note of events." That earned a blink from his father. "Salacious rumors about the crown have been written by a dwarf before, so why not continue the tradition."
"If you wish to continue the tradition of lies then the best of luck to you."
"I don't lie, that's the difference."
"Whenever you speak of your prowess you lie, my son."
"Please, I can bring two dozen women to speak of my prowess."
"Women you pay don't count."
Lyarra shook her head, this would continue for hours if she didn't put a stop to it - it was like they enjoyed the battle of words and insults. "So, what's the status of everything?"
Tywin snorted. "Both Queens lost ground when the Princesses fought and were locked in the Maidenvault."
"How far did the fight go? Were clothes ripped?"
"Shut up, Tyrion."
He feigned hurt. "I'm just trying to be accurate for future curious minds."
Shaking his head, Tywin continued. "At this point, I have to give the edge to the King. You've reported his plans to me and the fact the Queens have no idea what is going on only adds to his advantage - slight as it is." He rolled his eyes. "The Crown Prince is many things, an expert at emotional relationships he is not."
"You'd think being the product of a father and two mothers would teach him," shrugged Tyrion, still writing.
Rubbing his shoulders, Lyarra clicked her tongue. "Don't forget that the Princesses… bonded when they were discovered in the Maidenvault."
"I'm not."
"I definitely am not," Tyrion said, perking up and writing furiously.
At that point, Lord Varys walked through the door. He was impeccably dressed as always, but his bald head covered in sweat and plump stomach heaving up and down indicated he had ran the whole way up the Tower of the Hand. "Lord Tywin… Lady Lyarra…" He huffed, nearly keeling over from shortness of breath.
"By gods man." Tyrion rose with a flagon of wine. "Drink, damn you." Varys took it and guzzled a bit greedily… managing to steady himself. "What has you here in such a tizzy?"
"It better be important. I've already had enough of my time wasted," Tywin growled, looking to Tyrion.
Nodding, Varys composed himself - his face was flushed, but his breathing returned to normal. "My little birds spotted Prince Daemon heading to the chambers of his sister Rhaenys. Princess Daenerys joined them not some time after."
Lyarra's eyes widened. "And…?"
"The Princesses were then carried, bound, by the Prince to his chambers," Varys replied, ruddy eyes twinkling.
"A stealing, you say?" Tyrion wriggled his eyebrows.
Tapping his fingers, Tywin quickly made the determination as Hand and neutral arbiter of this little bet. "So he did it for once."
Lyarra laughed. "Good for you, goodson."
"I'm gonna make a fortune from this," Tyrion remarked, quickly jotting down the accounts with a mad zeal. Though the real fortune belongs to King Rhaegar and Prince Daemon.
Eyes fluttering open - an arduous task since they were heavy from sleep - Jon winced at the light streaming in through his curtains from his east-facing room by the early morning sun. A groan left his lips as he tried to move to where his back was to his window. However, much as he tugged he wouldn't budge. The fuck…?
It was then that he felt the heated breaths against his skin. Heard the rustling of the sheets as someone other than him shifted around. Fully awake, Jon glanced to either side of him and was witnessed to a breathtaking sight. Rhaenys rested in the crook of his neck, melded as close as she could to him with an arm wrapped around his lower chest. He had draped his arm about her and could move it, but there was little hope of breaking her vice-like grip of him. Not that he would want to, but even if he did there was no chance of movement for on his other side, Daenerys rested. She was on her back, head rested on his arm and shoulder and their sides touching flush. His twin had him pinned.
All three were naked as their namedays, memories of how they got there suddenly revealed to Jon as his mind began to reclaim its sharpness. The smile forming on his face widened each moment that they did.
He failed to count how much time had passed, Jon simply staring at the two of them in this state. All he could notice was that the sun grew higher and higher in the sky, but even if nightfall would arrive it would be worth it to watch these two goddesses. They were inseparable as children and youths, yet now it was more than that. Jon's heart soared as he saw them. He noticed small things about them in this intimate setting he hadn't known before. Dany smiling oft in her sleep, nose wriggling as she must've dreamed something wonderful. Rhaenys a hot little hearth against his skin. Both of them sighing and nuzzling him with their cheeks, as if constantly demanding to know he was there.
When Rhae's hand brushed against his heart, Jon sucked in a breath. The scar - a reminder of his demise and his current darkness - weighed on him greatly, but now… the weight was less. The darkness replaced with light, joy in his soul for the first time in a long while. What was it that uncle Aemon said? 'A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing?' He grew up surrounded by a loving family, but Jon finally understood the proper truth of Aemon's statement. With his dragons, he felt complete.
"It's not polite to stare."
Jolted out of his musings, Jon looked down to see two pairs of violet eyes trained on him. "A Lord husband can gaze upon his brides whenever he wishes," he replied.
"But you married us under wildling tradition," Rhaenys replied, nuzzling the skin of his neck and placing feather light kisses against it. She realized she loved doing that and resolved never to stop. "They have no lords, so you hold no authority over us."
"Now wait, Rhae." Dany's diplomatic mind analyzed the state of affairs thoughtfully. "If he is our husband, then the reciprocal is also the case." Her hand inched down his body, wrapping around his half-erect cock. "All of him is ours to appreciate as well."
Pulling back slightly, the Sun Dragon grinned. "You are right, wife." Chuckling throatily, she kissed down his neck and shoulder until reaching his nipple, licking it the same way as she loved doing to Dany.
Jon groaned. "My loves, please…"
"We're torturing him," Rhaenys giggled, purposefully shifting around so his hair tickled his skin.
Daenerys squeezed his shaft while rubbing the head with her thumb. "But what a way to go." She did the same with her hair, two silky manes bringing the sweetest torment to Jon's torso.
"Right monsters, the both of you," Jon mustered, but he couldn't stop his smile. A lifetime of waking up like this… perhaps only broken by the pitter patter of little feet seeking to jump on them. Was that to be his life? Dealing with a little brood of hatchlings? Sons to spar with or girls to twirl about… though knowing Rhaenys the girls were likely to take to swordsplay as well.
He found that such a life brought him even greater joy.
Soon though, Rhaenys was sucking at his neck while Dany kissed down his chest, her destination clear. While all of him yearned to allow his brides to pleasure him and then pin them down and give them the same treatment, Jon's discipline took hold. "Rhae… Dany…"
"Shhhh," Rhae whispered in his ear, licking the shell. "No talking."
"Let us reward our Prince with our attention," Dany said, nuzzling his stomach and squeezing his cock.
But Jon was insistent. "No, my loves." Finally disentangling his arms from their bodies, he pulled himself upright, covers leaving his chest bare.
Daenerys let out a huff. "Why'd you do that?" She glared at him, but the fact the furs slipped and exposed her breasts to his eyes weakened her ire. Unfortunately for her beseeching Rhaenys for help, she was also momentarily distracted by the sight. Gods, the downsides of being married to the two most gorgeous people on earth. "I'm not a piece of meat."
"Like you don't stare at me the same way," Rhaenys shot back. She was miffed at Jon for denying them pleasure that morning, but was unwilling to let it ruin their happiness. "Now why can't we have a lazy morning together, my handsome Prince?" Rhaenys tried her hand at sultry flirting, and she was surprised at how good she was at it. Helps when you adore the man you're flirting with.
"Believe me, that sounds heavenly." Jon gathered them again in his arms, kissing each of their lips in quick succession. "But I must demure." He wriggled out of their grasp and leapt from the bed.
"This is treason to your future Queens," Dany said petulant, grabbing her breasts and kneading them. "Instead, come please them," she husked.
Rhaenys, not one to be outdone, crawled atop Dany. She licked up her spine, making the Valyrian goddess moan and her own core soak. "Yes, let's enjoy ourselves and celebrate our marriage."
The trousers he had thrown on did little to hide his erection, but Jon willed himself not to succumb. "Tonight I belong to you, but there's a surprise that needs to wait till after the joust."
Put out, the Princesses sighed and sat on the bed. "You'll win this one, right?"
"Do you doubt me?"
"Never."
"Good, then I'll win." Fully dressed, ever dashing and handsome to them, he kissed each on the lips with such passion to make the powerful Targaryen Princesses swoon. "Until later… and neither of you can pleasure yourselves either."
"Jon, that's not fair," Rhaenys told him.
"Completely fair." He opened the door to find Ghost and Hura wagging their tails at him. "Make sure your munas don't do anything naughty, alright?"
Only moments after the door shut behind him did the two Princesses lunge for each other. Chests mashing and lips locking, both were overheated with lust that their husband had denied to quench. They were all married before the gods and there was nothing immodest involved as their hands began wandering…
A furry nose poked in between them. First it wasn't too inconveniencing, but the white direwolf used the snout as a spearpoint to wedge his entire body between the lustful ladies. Dany collapsed down on the bed while Rhaenys grunted. "Ghost!"
The direwolf looked at Daenerys, quirking his head.
"Do you mind?" Rhaenys said in a scolding manner. "Bad direwolf. Let your munas have their fun." His red eyes shifted to her, as if saying that he wasn't going to disobey a direct order from kepa. "It's fine. He was just being dramatic."
Ghost wasn't buying it. He merely flipped onto his back, legs in the air and extending his head and neck out in a big furry ball of love and mischief.
Irked, Dany looked to her own wolf. "Hura, please get him away from us." But Hura only bounded onto the bed, squeezing in between Dany and Ghost and forcing her further away from Rhaenys. She yipped, licking Ghost's snout and whimpering sweetly. "It appears we weren't the only ones to find love last night."
"Goddamn it, why do they have to be so cute? It's impossible to hate them." Huffing, Rhaenys fell back into bed. "I suppose we have to be celebate till Jon's surprise."
"Unfortunately we do." Rising, Dany stretched out and reached for her dress from the day before. It would do until Missy could find something appropriate for her to wear to the joust. Finally presentable - a weak word to use, considering her messy hair pointing to obvious sensual activity - she turned and locked eyes with her wife and lover. She was just as disheveled. And just as beautiful. "We married Jon," Dany murmured.
"I know, he's all ours."
"And we're his."
"And I'm yours."
"And I'm yours as well."
It took but a split-second for them to squeal in joy and hug each other, jumping up and down as if children that pilfered a plate of cookies.
Finishing in front of the mirror, Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen hummed softly to himself as he made the finishing touches to his armor. It had to be completely perfect, for today was the day he would compete in his first tourney - first time his munas let him participate that is. Already missed the fucking melee… not this time.
He knew riders like Loras Tyrell, his uncle Aegon Lannister, and his siblings Jon and Senya were likely better but a good showing would place him high in the lists for the next go around. Finishing off with a clip of his red cloak to the outside of his armor plate, he looked the part of a dashing knight."Knock 'em dead, Jae," he said to the reflection in the looking glass. "You're the greatest of all time."
"I certainly believe so."
Margaery Tyrell watched Prince Jaehaerys leap out of his armor… well, figuratively that is. She suppressed a giggle at the startled reaction. Men didn't like to be laughed at, at least not by women they weren't happily married to. The Queens definitely teased the King, but that was a solid foundation built on two decades, eight children, and the passion of dragons.
Oh, if all things went well she'd finally make her acquaintance with the latter.
Hand covering his heart over his breastplate, Jaehaerys finally managed to calm his breathing. "Lady Margaery… what are you doing here?" While he kicked himself for such an over the top reaction, he truly didn't expect anyone to show up. Literally not the girl of his dreams and his chosen recipient for the Crown of Love and Beauty should he win the joust.
"Why to see you, silly," she giggled, batting her eyelashes. It was typical flirtatious behavior that she had seen her airhead aunts of both her mother and father's sides of the family deliver, but in her voice it was throaty. Seductive. She knew her assets and prosecuted them fully. "You do intend to join the joust, correct?"
He gulped, looking her over. Taking in the green riding cloak she wore draped over her body. "Um… yes, my Lady. I am a skilled horseman and I feel I could win this."
"I like your confidence, my Prince." Much as she wished to see him compete, her grandmother's instructions were unyielding. Not that she didn't want to. Looking at his delicious silver locks, toned body, and sun-kissed skin, this was one task of her grandmother's she relished. "But what if you didn't compete?"
"My lady?" He was completely confused.
Apparently Prince Daemon's cluelessness runs in the family. Smirking at him, Margaery unfastened the tie of her cloak and shrugged it off. Reveling in his wide eyes.
Jaehaerys couldn't believe it. Margaery Tyrell was bare in front of him. Waist tight, breasts perky, an impish smile showing off two perfect dimples… she was breathtaking. "We can't, my lady."
"Oh? And why not?" She pouted.
"It would be dishonorable to take your maidenhead." It was what his uncle Ned would've wanted him to say. Uncle Oberyn would've suggested he invited more people to join them in bed, but that was neither here nor there.
"Perhaps I want to lose it." She approached him, swinging her hips. This was a moment she had long been waiting for. "Instead of to some boring Andal knight, to an absolutely gorgeous…" Margaery wrapped two arms round his shoulders. "Exotic…" She kissed his neck. "Dornish-Valyrian Prince with the blood of the dragons running through his veins." She licked the shell of his ear. "I'm not taking no for an answer. I have to have you."
Suddenly Jaehaerys was shoved back onto the bed, forcing him to sit. Margaery straddled him and began to remove his armor. It went… surprisingly quickly, as if she had practiced beforehand.
Margaery had - just in case. Thankfully for her, he was soon naked just as she was and oh, what a marvelous sight. He was fit, powerfully muscular and toned… with a powerfully large cock. "Mmmm, all for me." She shoved him down, straddling him.
Jaehaerys reached up, palming her breasts and making her moan. He liked it, liked it greatly. "I've wanted you for years," he breathed, finally admitting it."
Brow rising, in her heart she swooned. "I'm glad." Slowly, she sunk on him, feeling his tip pierce her maidenhead. It hurt, causing her to wince, but she didn't stop. Riding him slow at first, then building up the pace until the size of his cock filling her and his moving hands groping and squeezing her breasts and thumbing her nipples were hurling to her climax. "My Prince," she gasped as she hurled over the edge.
Falling into bliss, Margaery felt herself being flipped over. Take him… show off your skills and make him unable to walk afterwards. Hearing his dragon roar into the skin of her neck, cock pounding hard into her cunt as Jaehaerys took the initiative, Margaery knew her grandmother had it backwards. She'd be the one unable to walk after this.
Not that she minded one bit.
As another rider - some knight of the Reach that they didn't bother to pay much attention to - collapsed to the ground as Crown Prince Daemon notched another victory, Lyanna motioned for a servant to pour all of them another cup of steaming tea. "No alcohol today, quite good," Olenna Tyrell mused, taking a sip. "Many highborn cunts would already be deep in their cups."
The she-wolf Queen wasn't fazed by profanity. Not with her own vocabulary. "We are sovereigns. Our wits must be kept about us."
"Imagine," snorted Cersei Baratheon, holding her cup in two hands. "A drunkard as King. The Realm would suffer as his wife and/or councilors ran it into ruin for their own ends."
"Thankfully that didn't happen," Elia said. "Our King is one that we can be proud of."
"Yes, yes, your husband makes you purr in the bedchamber like a cat," Olenna remarked, impatient. "Now, can we get back to the business at hand?" Subtle she was not, at least not verbally. Both Queens could respect that, as did Lady Cersei.
"Be careful, Lady Olenna," Rhaella cautioned. "Wouldn't want to blunder into something you don't see a proper end in." Olenna raised her eyebrow, almost eager to begin a proper mental challenge.
They were seated in the royal box, allowed a tiny cluster in the rear while Rhaegar and the other royals watched the festivities. The lineup was uninspiring at first - even their own family participating in the early jousts were facing against nonentities, and confidence in Jon and Aegon Lannister was paramount. Thus this conversation. "I know the two of you wish for betrothals to my children," Elia stated, setting the parameters. "You have already secured alliances with the betrothals of Lady Shireen to Ser Garlan and Lady Myrcella to my nephew Ser Robb." Crafty for both of them, though she was sure Lord Tywin had a hand in them as well.
"I have full faith in both my respective goodsons to give my daughters a happy marriage," Cersei stated, sipping her tea. "But marriage alliances to the crown are what I would like for my eldest son, Gendry." He wasn't cunning like his grandfather, but he had the honor of her brother and sense of justice like her husband - he'd be a great Lord of Storm's End. "Preferably Princess Daenerys or Princess Rhaenys."
"And it goes without saying that my grandaughter Margaery would be a wonderful Queen Consort for Prince Daemon."
They didn't give anything away, but Lya and Elia both felt guilty. The three of them… their little game only caused them agony. Only the fact that both Dany and Rhae were sitting together, all smiles and joined hands, did the Queens manage not to fully hate themselves.
While their reluctance was personal in nature, Rhaella's was both practical and born with inside knowledge. Jon, Dany, and Rhaenys belong to each other. But to blurt that out loud would ruin the coming surprise, so the point she raised was practical. "You seek to rise well above your station, my Ladies. Be careful not to reach too high."
"Oh? A trueborn son of two great highborn families not well enough for a Princess?"
"We didn't say that, but your goals are transparent. There are alliances and then there are thrusts for power - we will not tolerate the latter no matter how much we desire an alliance between our families."
"Then what do you suggest?" Olenna asked, knowing her opening bid would be denied. Completely expected.
Looking at her gooddaughters, Rhaella nodded and let them take over. "For starters," began Elia. "My daughter Visenya and your son Gendry are close friends. Why not build on their current relationship and betroth them?"
Pursing her lips, Cersei nodded. "Acceptable. Princess Visenya is a fiery girl that can bring Gendry out of his most solitary moods."
Much like I and Rhaegar. Lyanna smiled softly. "And while I don't know where he is at the moment, a betrothal between our son Jaehaerys and Lady Margaery would be acceptable to us." From what Lord Varys told them, he was rather fond of her.
"He may not be the heir, but he is adequate." Olenna sipped her tea, hoping to hide her smile. By now Margaery should be showing him the same lesson I showed Luthor all those years ago. Oh, that girl should've been of her loins and not her doltish children.
The ladies raised their cups in celebration of their coming together, but Dany speaking up drew their attention. "Muna! You're not going to believe this."
"What?" Lyanna was out of her seat and walking to her proper position next to Rhaegar when she saw it. "Oh seven hells."
Laughing at the sight of it, Elia kissed her wife on the neck and then sat with Rhaegar. "No doubt who she is, right husband?"
"I would've said Rhaenys, but she's here, so I'm guessing Visenya."
"What is my future gooddaughter doing… oh…" Cersei spoke.
Galloping onto the field to cheers from the crowd was a mystery knight. Not just any one, though, since there were always a few that tried to compete. With the same shield and armor as her mother over twenty years before, the Targaryen Princess had revived the Knight of the Laughing Tree. As the story was popular among the entire Realm, the disguise was symbolic rather than mysterious.
Exactly what she was going for.
Grinning at the actions of his daughter, Rhaegar clapped his hands. "Let us begin!"
"Presenting!" announced Tywin, equally intrigued of this development - though mindful to ignore Tyrion's furious scribbling of the events. "Lord Gerold Dayne of High Hermitage and the Knight of the Laughing Tree."
Visenya knew exactly what she was doing. With the help of Viserys, who withdrew from the joust in order to help coordinate the various participants, she made sure that it would be Gerold she faced. While Sansa knocking out Harry the Arse - subsequently banished back to the Eyrie in disgrace by Lord Elbert - had been quite hilarious, she wanted something grander for her vengeance and intended to give it. "We proclaim our fealty to King Rhaegar, First of His Name, and House Targaryen," Visenya stated, clasping her fist against her breastplate. Time to shine.
Her kepa gave her merely a smile. "May the gods grant you strength, may you conduct yourself with honor, and may the best knight win." He sat, giving them leave to start.
Trotting towards him, Visenya waited for Gerold's shocked comment from under his helm. "Senya? What are you doing here?" He didn't disappoint.
Senya's blood boiled. "You will lose." She wasn't done. "But if you don't, I shall not expect the Crown of Love and Beauty to be on my head instead of my sister's." With that, she cantored to her own starting position before the Darkstar could respond.
Grabbing a lance from her 'squire,' Lady Lyanna Mormont, Visenya gripped her shield and erupted from the starting position as soon as the horn blew. Her mount was one of the foals of her muna's trusted mare, a brave and powerful horse with remarkable endurance. All passing in a blur, such was on display as Visenya focused on Gerold, the Darkstar getting closer and closer in his bright silver armor.
Both slammed into each other, but it was merely a test. Gerold seemed off his game by delivering a glancing blow on her shield… Senya didn't expect this, but it made her smirk. Her blow had missed, giving the tilt to Gerold on points but it was no matter. She knew him, and knew that he'd be overconfident for the next tilts.
Your undoing, my sweet Gerold. He wouldn't stand a chance.
The herald barely sounded off on the second tilt both riders went at each other - neither Senya nor the more invigorated Gerold held anything back. Senya's lance hit Gerold in the shoulder while his lance shattered on her shield. Now Senya was in the lead on points.
"What is she doing?" Dany asked, eyes knotted in confusion. They all knew Senya was skilled, but she seemed to be dragging this out. While Rhaenys shrugged equally confused, Dany noticed a tiny grin on Viserys' lips. "Uncle? Do you know?"
"Perhaps I do," he answered.
She frowned. "Maybe you should tell me then?"
He looked at her, smirking wider. "No, I don't think I will." Ugh.
The third tilt was as inconclusive as the last two. Both lances shattered off each other's shields, the destroyed weapons discarded in favor of fresh ones. The blow had staggered Senya but she was strong, gripping the reins with both hands and remaining steady on the saddle.
Almost knowing Gerold was smirking at her from under his helm - once she found it sexy, but now that Gendry swept her off her feet she was merely disgusted - Senya ignored the ache in her shield arm and shoulder. Willing away the pain, she wheeled around and prepared for another charge.
The herald sounded the horn and they charged at each other again. Lance low, Senya's eyes narrowed and her muscles strained as she met Darkstar right at the middle…
The result was instantaneous and decisive. Senya gasped in pain as Gerold's lance hit her against the armored plate of her side, glancing off of it. But her lance hit true, shattering upon Gerold's shield in such a force to knock the Darkstar from his horse.
"Winner, the Knight of the Laughing Tree!"
Riding her horse around her unhorsed opponent, Visenya smirked down at him. Watching Gerold glare at her with anger… but the dismissive smugness she had heard in his voice that night was absent. Did he look… afraid? Senya liked to hope so. "Ser Gerold," she smiled, ignoring calls by the event organizers to clear the field for the next joust.
He narrowed his eyes. "You are an ungrateful bitch."
"Coming from you, that's a compliment." She looked at him in disgust. "Did you honestly think I wouldn't find out?"
Gerold didn't back down. "Did you honestly think I would ever want a half-wildling like you, when I could've had a Dornish beauty like your sister?"
Visenya found herself laughing. "Oh, Gerold, you had no chance with Rhaenys." She leaned down, eyes sparkling. "I should honestly thank you for your loose tongue. Made me realize a lot about myself… and my true feelings." Clicking her teeth, the horse stomped forward as if to run him over.
Flinching in a sudden fear, Gerold fell back - landing on his ass. Rhaegar's eyes widened, the royals worried that their daughter would actually kill her defeated opponent for a slight as still unknown by anyone but Viserys, Arya, Sansa, and Gendry. But they needn't not be concerned. Visenya was as skilled a horseman as her mother, and managed to keep her mount steady in the mock charge.
She watched the man that only a few days before she had wished to give her maidenhead to. "Pathetic, simply pathetic." She dipped her head and hand in a mock gesture of respect. "Goodbye, Ser Gerold. May we never see each other again." Whistling, she spurred the horse off the field.
Wincing as the aftereffects of his uncle's blow made itself felt in his shoulder, Jon guided his mount towards where Robb was waiting. "Gods, he's not giving an inch." He looked at over where Ser Aegon Lannister gave the Crown Prince a wave. "And he's as cheeky as his father."
"You can beat him, Jon. He's all flash and no substance," Robb stated, giving him encouragement as he handed a fresh lance to him. The last one was shattered upon the sandy ground of the jousting field. It was the final joust, Jon vs. his half-uncle, and the crowd was primed.
"Flash and no substance doesn't cause one to last twelve tilts," Jon grumbled, grabbing a canteen and draining it of the water within - letting some spill onto his heated face underneath the helm. "Motherfucker."
Robb shoved at his leg. "Stay strong, cousin. Remember who you're winning for." He pointed to the royal box where Dany and Rhaenys sat, watching him with awe and worry.
Jon glanced down at his cousin. "You know about that?"
"Aye, it's written all over your face who you watch when you think no one is looking." Robb laughed and patted his shin. "Get your girls, Jon. Show them what us wolves are made of."
Nodding, Jon dropped his visor and clutched his lance tightly. He loved his uncle but this time there was no chance he'd go easy on him. This was for Rhae and Dany - Daemon Targaryen would complete the surprise and reveal his love the way they deserved.
Just as his own father did for his mothers twenty-one years before.
Both riders waited at the starting line across from each other until the herald sounded. Horses thundered across the sand, clouds of the substance kicked up behind them as they hurled their riders towards each other. Jon narrowed his eyes, watching Aegon's fluid style. A style he'd observed closely for twelve previous tilts and formulated a solution. Wore him down in order to make it work…
Aegon aimed right for his shoulder as he was wont to, but Jon leaned left in his saddle just in the nick of time. The Lannister's lance missed. The Targaryen's didn't, hitting Aegon at an awkward angle and throwing him from his horse.
Crown Prince Daemon unhorsed Ser Aegon Lannister on the thirteenth tilt.
"He did it," Rhae breathed.
"He did it!" Dany cheered, hugging her sister-wife.
"Holy fuck, I did it," Jon murmured to himself just as the crowd basically fell apart. Quickly riding to where Aegon rested, he leaned down to help him up. "You alright, uncle?"
Aegon took the proffered hand. "If I was to lose, I'm glad it was to you and not Loras Tyrell." Shuddering, Jon laughed and squeezed his shoulder.
Jon guided his stallion around, letting the crowd's adulation wash over him. "LIGHTBRINGER! LIGHTBRINGER! LIGHTBRINGER!" Tens of thousands of throats all bellowing their love for their future king, beloved by all. Most certainly his family, who were all out of their seats and cheering him. From his grandmother to his littlest siblings to… the most beautiful women in the world.
Rhaenys, his Sun Dragon, ever exotic and sultry with her sun-kissed skin and love for Dornish dresses that highlighted her assets - when not in tunic and trousers that was. Her eyes sparkled, fiercely looking at him with the deepest adoration and lust. She was his proud, mighty warrior Queen in the making, one that could stand against him toe to toe in battle and spar. Gods, the things she did to him…
Daenerys, his beautiful dragonwolf. A Valyrian goddess that held the most alluring features of their house - fair skin, silver hair, purple eyes, as beautiful as ever, but combined with the wolfish Stark features like their mother. They were subtle - as were his Valryian features - but they were there. Turning the diplomatic, honey-tongued Daenerys into a fiery she-demon whenever she wished. And to Jon, that turned him on more than anything.
Together, they had been the three heads of their house's dragon sigil since the cradle. Always close, always loving, always friends - and now with a bond that no man or god could hope to sunder.
A bond he intended to proclaim to the world in that moment.
Pushing his visor up, Jon approached the royal box with a proud look. Standing tall in the saddle, letting his family see him triumphant. Unable to stop his own smile, Jon waved to the cheering crowd before settling his gaze back on his father. "Your Grace," he began. "Honored Lords and Ladies, it was a privilege to compete on this field before you today."
Looking at their love in his dashing Valyrian scale plate glittering in the midafternoon sun, Rhaenys and Dany grasped each other's hands. He won, their mighty Prince and husband triumphed just as they knew he would. He removed his helm, reaching behind his head to let the raven locks tumble freely over his shoulders.
Delicious enough to eat.
Watching his son, Rhaegar caught a little twinkle in Jon's grey eyes. Knowing how to read them from his time with Lyanna, he winked back. Oh yes, this will be good. Rhaegar rose from his seat, trying not to grin as victoriously as he wanted. Best to keep the surprise for when Jon chose to announce it - it would be much sweeter that way. "People of the Seven Kingdoms," he yelled loudly enough for all to hear. "I give you, your champion. Daemon of House Targaryen, Lord of Dragonstone, Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms." Motioning to his right, his youngest Princess Daena bounced forward, giggles adorning her bubbly expression as she carried the crown of winter roses. His eyes misted over for a moment, falling on Lyanna and remembering the past fondly. Catching his look, Lyanna smiled lovingly at him - remembering the same memory. He cleared his throat. "Present yourself, Prince Daemon."
Doing so, Jon bowed low in the saddle. "This honor is wasted on me, your Grace. I am but a humble servant of House Targaryen." His self-deprecating caused his brides to glare at him but the crowd loved it.
Rhaegar smiled sadly. Jon deserved the world from how good a son and Prince he was "You are the true champion, Prince Daemon. The Young Dragon Reborn, the Warrior Without Peer alongside your sister." He leaned over and kissed Rhaenys' head, which made the Princess smile. "There is no man more deserving of the honor to be crowned champion of the King's Tourney." Rhaegar looked at Daena. "Hand your brother the crown, hatchling."
"Yes kepa," Daena beamed, practically bouncing as she offered it to Jon. "Here you are, brother. Can I be your Queen of Love and Beauty?!" she asked excitedly, drawing a chorus of awes.
Jon chuckled, ruffling his little sister's hair. "You are the sweetest thing, little sister," he said. "But I shouldn't deny some future knight the chance to charm you." He pinched her cheek, winking at his wives.
Daena sighed, looking at her brother with adoration. "Alright, brother."
The Crown of Love and Beauty was in his hands now, Jon silent as he looked at the crowd. Every female in the crowd, married or not, swooned as they imagined the handsome Dragon Prince would crown them. But eager daydreaming turned to gasps as Jon pulled out a dagger and cut the crown in two. Turning it into two tiaras.
Everyone was surprised, especially the Queens.
A tiara in each hand, he squeezed his hips and drove the stallion forward, approaching close to the box. "There are many lovely ladies that would give me the honor of being my Queen of Love and Beauty, but as you can see only two will earn it this day." To the eager eyes of tens of thousands and the utterly shocked stares of Elia and Lyanna - their eyes bugging out of their sockets - Jon handed them to his sisters. "Princess Daenerys Targaryen, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, my wives under the sight of the most ancient traditions of the First Men, would you bring me the greatest honor in accepting these crowns and be my Queens of Love and Beauty?"
Wives under the sight of gods and men, Rhaenys and Daenerys had expected this from the moment he won the joust. It wasn't a surprise, but they still couldn't help but blush. Watching his grey eyes, seeing the love he held for them in there, all their might and fire disappeared for the moment and they were naught but two happy maidens that earned the attention of their dream man.
He was their dream.
Watching them lean forward, accepting their tiaras and kissing Jon soundly, the Queens' jaws were slack. "Wha… how…?" Elia knew not what to say.
"How… how did this…?" Lyanna stammered, only to find their husband not even trying to hide his grin. "Rhaegar?"
"I win," he said simply.
Elia had a sinking feeling. "What?"
"That bet you thought I didn't know about. I win." He kissed both their cheeks, the crowd going wild for the Crown Prince as he hugged his brides - especially the wildlings, a ringing endorsement of their traditions. "We'll discuss all the details of them and us later, but I intend to collect on my winnings for the next two moons."
The Queens could only stare as the realization that their husband finally outwitted them was registered.
But looking at their son and daughters joyously happy together, were they truly upset?
A little embarrassed perhaps, but upset - no, not at all.
Running a hand through his hair, Aerys looked haggard as he raced towards the various men-at-arms carried crates into the large garden of his manse. "No, no, no! Those go near the pits!" One of them blinked, lifting his arm and sniffing his armpit. Gods save me from such fools… "Over there!" he pointed furiously to where the firepits were dug into the ground.
The guards shrugged and did as bidded. Setting the massive crates of firewood and charcoal near the pits without a word.
Sitting on a bench in the gardens, Aerys let his head sit in his hands. Seven fucking hells… He wondered why he had gotten the short straw of holding the big feast for the entire family to celebrate the events going on in the mortal realm. Yes, Aerys was delighted his grandchildren were finally together. Yes, he appreciated true love now that his had finally been realized, but why did he have to be the one to suffer in hosting the event?
Great-grandmother Rhaenys or great-grandfather Viserys love feasts. Why can't they host it?
"Why so down in the dumps, nephew?" Aerys looked up to see the black-haired Prince Duncan sit next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. "You're in this big fuckin' place with the girl of your dreams and your entire family coming to celebrate the most joyous occasion since, well, ever. It's obscene to feel negativity."
"It's pretty hard not to when it's your home being ransacked," Aerys groaned. "You know who's going to be here? Dozens of Targaryens, each with a dragon's appetite. It's exhausting trying to set up." He closed his eyes, resolved to count his blessings. "At least I have you, father, and uncle Daeron helping… though you could pull your weight a little more."
Dunk looked affronted. "Hey, I've been pulling my weight. And you know how your father is." Sickly and weak, King Jaehaerys was forced to stay inside and sample music for the party's entertainment. "As for brother Daeron, let's just say I'd rather not intrude on him and his… friend helping your mother and aunt select the decorations for the feast."
Aerys rolled his eyes. "Aye, that's a weird vibe right there." Nothing against Daeron's preferences, but the former King wasn't keen on learning the difference between ruched and non-ruched curtains in a color 'midway between cream and eggshell white.' "Still, it's fucking exhausting."
Laughing, the Prince of Dragonflies ruffled his nephew's hair. "I'm gonna find Jenny. Perhaps someone else will turn that frown upside down."
He must've seen something that Aerys - in his sullen exhaustion - hadn't seen cause out of nowhere two feminine arms wrapped around his neck from behind. "Brooding, my love?"
Aerys groaned, though leaned back into the touch. "Aye, Joanna. Why did it have to be me?"
"It's a great honor, my handsome dragon." Sitting next to him Joanna Lannister melded to Aerys' side. Gone was her past shame in loving him. Tywin was happy, Rhaella was happy - both belonged to the ones they should've and now she and Aerys could finally be happy too in spite of the suffering in the mortal realm. "You being selected means that the leaders of the family trust you."
"I'd think that if dealing with the preparations wasn't so damn exhausting."
Joanna chuckled and kissed him. It growing rather… languid. "How's about I stay by your side, and then once things are in order we move this somewhere more… comfortable."
He smiled - she knew just how to cheer him up.
A/N: To paraphrase Kingsley Shacklebolt: Say what you want about Jon Targaryen, he's got style :D
Ghost is the best pussy-block in the Seven Kingdoms apparently XD
I really want to know what you guys thought of it finally happening, so drop a comment. If I get 20, I'll update next week!
