A/N: Hey all. Good news! I got my first medical school acceptance! I still have 25 more schools pending so wish me luck.

The moment we've all been waiting for!

Enjoy.

Chapter 92: Unburnt

Teeth gritted, Viserys strained his hips in frantic thrusts. "Gods…" He felt his lower muscles start to tighten, a sign that his already sensitive member was close to erupting.

Bucking and meaning beneath him, the redheaded whore he took to bed sucked his lobe before licking the shell of his ear, making Viserys shudder in delight. "Spill into me, my Prince," she husked. "Give me your seed." Though she could only be a year older than Viserys at the most, she was already experienced beyond anything the Prince had known.

Such experience paid dividends, Viserys grunting and hurtling over the edge. "It's here… take my seed," he gasped.

"Yes… she moaned. "Yessss…"

Limp from his climax, while most men likely would've been kicked out of the bed by a harried whore, Viserys was a Targaryen Prince and thus had the coin to purchase some time of cuddling afterwards. He found he liked it after a round of sex. "You truly are the best I've had, Ros."

Hair a disheveled mess that fell over her face rather alluringly, Ros leaned half over him - growing breasts pressing into a chest toned from hours of dragonriding per week. "So you are saying that I wasn't your first?" she pouted. "I'm disappointed."

He rolled his eyes. "Spare me. Are you next to say that it was I that took your maidenhead?"

"Some men pay much more in coin for those they perceive to be untouched." Ros batted her eyes flirtatiously. She clearly knew how to manipulate men.

Feeling bold, Viserys growled and flipped her over, making her gasp. "Those men are fools, whereas I am a Prince." He would use her as he wished, and vowed to make this gorgeous woman shatter for real at his actions.

"Yes… take me, my Prince…" No words left their throats after that - at least intelligible ones.

Passing through Wintertown about an hour later mounted atop his horse, Viserys didn't sport his usual look of suppressed disdain at the rather decrepit conditions of the North - the lack of paved streets, brick houses, or fine architecture. It was beastly cold but finally he was in a good mood without dislike for the rough people. Amazing what finding the beautiful ruby in the rough could do for him. "Is there anything marring my schedule for the next hours, Ser Arys?"

Arys Oakheart, the Kingsguard normally assigned to the Prince, shook his head. "I do not believe so, your Grace." He had stood guard outside the client chamber at the brothel, resisting Viserys' offer to buy him his own companion - at least for the time being. "Though I am told that your brother would prefer you to spend more time socializing with the Northern Lords when they arrive."

"Yes, yes… I am aware." Viserys knew he needed to, and was resolved to try. "But I am feeling like riding Maerys, since it has been days and I am sure she is lonely."

"Your Grace certainly loves your dragon," Arys observed.

Such was obvious, but Viserys grinned. "I do, more than any other living being aside from my sister and muna… though mayhaps Lady Ros shall come close." Ever since Lady Talisa had introduced him to the pleasures of a woman's embrace, Viserys had… 'sampled' a half-dozen in both King's Landing and in White Harbor during their stay there - mostly whores but also a servant of House Manderly that fancied him. Viserys had truly enjoyed the attention after being the ignored second son for so long, but Ros was undoubtedly his favorite.

"I do not deny her loveliness." The two of them shared a grin.

Passing through the Winterfell gate and the bowing guards standing watch in the gatehouse, Viserys hoped to find his muna to inform her he was riding to see Maerys in the place the dragons made their nest just outside the Wolfswood when he noticed the Lord Commander approaching him. "Ah, Ser Barristan, I was wondering if you could tell me where…"

Ser Barristan interrupted him, which the Prince found odd. "Forgive me, your Grace, but your brother the King requests your presence in his solar."

Viserys shared a look with Ser Arys, one equal parts confused and concerned. For Rhaegar to call him wasn't a good thing. Perhaps he's found out my trips to the brothel. He'd prepared for this, to which he merely sighed. "Alright." He swung off his horse, plopping on the ground. "Lead the way, Ser Barristan."

Escorted by both the Lord Commander and Ser Aerys, Viserys walked down the corridors of Winterfell to find the guest chamber his brother was using for a solar while here. Outside was waiting Ser Jaime, whose expression was grim and regarding him with… a strange look. Viserys was confused but entered the chambers finding his father sitting behind the desk with Queen Elia and Queen Lyanna on either side. His muna was there as well, standing on the other side of the desk close to the empty seat which Viserys was clearly supposed to sit, her hands folded over her skirts and looking solemn and sad. What is going on?

He nonetheless bowed. "Brother, I have…"

"Shut it and sit down," Rhaegar barked. Viserys then noticed that his normally jovial or quiet brother held a hard, angered look on his face. Surprised at the words, he complied. "You know, Viserys, I am not the fool you must think me."

"I do not think you a fool…"

"I said shut your mouth! You will listen to me and speak when I give you leave to speak." Both Queens also glared at him with disappointment, while his muna looked pained by each word. "When Lord Varys and my wife inform me that you visit the brothels of King's Landing and White Harbor, I hoped that it was just youthful indiscretion and that you've been careful, but it appears I am wrong."

He felt a sense of indignation… who were they to speak to him as such? Plenty of men sleep with whores. "I don't see a problem, brother. What business is yours if I visit brothels?":

Rhaegar looked to flush in rage. "It becomes my business when you seduce and take the maidenhead of the niece of the Volentene triarch!"

Racking his brain, it took some moments for Viserys to recall her. This was noticed by Lyanna. "He doesn't even remember her, husband." Her voice dripped with disgust.

Viserys narrowed his eyes at Lyanna. "I remember her name," he shot back, equally irritated by her. "Talisa. Yes, we coupled. She was my first as well."

"I commend you brother," laughed Rhaegar mirthlessly. "I have my own shortcomings and failings, but never have I managed to so stupidly dally with a visiting noblewoman so thoroughly as to find her with my child on my first coupling. "Congratulations."

It took a moment for the Prince to realize what had been said, and immediately his face paled. "With child?"

"Aye, Triarch Maegyr wrote to me with an angry missive proclaiming his sullied niece with child and demanding I make it right."

"Viserys, my son." Rhaella was beside herself. "How could you be so shortsighted?" She loved him dearly, but couldn't defend this and hearing her made Viserys feel shame for the first time that day.

"He doesn't think, goodmother," Elia said snidely. "Apparently he didn't learn the lessons that you taught him of how act in a manner befitting his station."

To this Viserys grew greatly angry. "Says the one whose own brother sires a bastard every moonturn while coupling with men as well."

It was Lyanna that responded. "Do not speak such insults!" Her face was red.

A sneer found its way to his face. "You know, goodsister, many persons consider your marriage to my brother to be against the laws of the Seven - thus making the boy that so supplanted me in the line of succession a bastard, but I do not repeat such insults. So do not lambast me for the failings of yourself and Queen Elia."

He was proud of himself… but it paled as his goodsisters and muna looked to him in shock at his insolence… and his brother in pure fury. "ENOUGH!"

Viserys seemed to realize what he said. "Brother… I…"

Rhaegar slammed a fist on the table. "You've been a sullen, rude boy for years but I gave you space and patience. I knew you suffered trauma during the rebellion and thus received the most gentle of care, but this is beyond my toleration!"

"How is it my fault that the stupid girl didn't drink the moon tea?"

"You dare?! You are a prince! She is an impressionable girl!"

The Prince scoffed. "An impressionable girl with too much beauty and not enough wits it seems."

Rhaella reacted if struck. "Do not say such things, Viserys. I raised you better than that."

"It's the truth, muna."

"Well, you better get used to it because that girl will be your wife once we return to King's Landing"

Viserys blinked once, then twice as if the words his brother said had difficulty making sense in his head. "I beg your pardon? Is this some kind of jape?"

"It is not, Viserys." By the gods, Rhaegar wished he didn't have to do this - that his whoring could've been dealt by merely a talk, but at Lady Talisa's pregnancy he had no choice. "I will not have a bastard in our family. Long ago did I decide that I was going to let you pick your own bride as long as she was worthy, but you made your bed so you must lay in it."

Viserys remained silent for a moment, it looked as if he was accepting it… until he stomped his foot on the floor and his face became a crimson so vivid it put their house colors to shame. "How dare you? How dare you?! I will not marry some unworthy whore! Never will I sully our blood as you did!"

A vein popping in his head at that comment, at the insult to his wives and by extension their muna, Rhaegar snapped. In an instant he rose from his seat and smacked Viserys hard with the back of his hand, staggering his valonqar.

"Viserys!" Rhaella gasped, going to him. Behind Rhaegar, both Queens looked utterly horrified by what had happened.

"Stay where you are, muna!" Rhaegar bellowed before turning back to Viserys. "YOU WILL DO AS YOUR TOLD!"

"My rightful place will not be denied me!" He stands defiantly, as bold as he could be with a split lip and a reddening cheek. "It is my destiny to marry Daenerys," Viserys finally said. "Kepa promised it to me! Not some whore and her brat!"

"What our father promised to you in his madness is none of my concern. You will never marry your sister - I wouldn't have chosen her for you even if you hadn't shamed our family."

"She is mine!" Behind him, Rhaella was close to tears.

Rhaegar shook his head. "You disgust me, brother. You are confined to your rooms until further notice! Ser Barristan, get him out of my sight!" As the Lord Commander made to escort him out, Rhaegar had one last word for him. "You will marry Talisa and you will be a father to your babe or by every god above I will kill you. Do you understand?!"

With one parting look at his brother the King, Viserys let out his curse. "Our ancestors would roll in their graves with how weak of a King you are."

"GET OUT!" With that he was gone.

Trembling from the aftershocks of the disastrous meeting, Rhaella had to compose herself lest her sobs vocalize - only the hold of Ser Jaime kept her from falling apart. "I'll talk to him," she finally said, playing peacemaker.

Rhaegar only nodded, giving her leave to go. "Seven hells," he murmured, collapsing into his chair. Seven bloody Hells." Wordlessly, both Elia and Lyanna hugged him close.


With Aerys' death, Rhaella thought she could finally be at peace. No longer did she hate her brother, blame him for what hadn't truly been his fault, but by the gods she didn't regret being relieved at his death. A mercy, it was a mercy. He was free, and now she was as well. Free to be happy and raise her family in the way she always deserved to.

For the first time since that point, Rhaella felt the pain of Aerys' memory crashing back on her. "I hate him!" Viserys screeched, crying in Rhaella's arms like he did when he was younger. "I hate Rhaegar! He can burn in the seven hells!"

Her heart was breaking, hearing him say that. "Your brother loves you, my sweet son. Truly he does…"

"Then why is he doing this?! I don't want to marry Talisa Maegyr."

"You've gotten her with child…"

"She can just take moon tea and get rid of it!"

Rhaella thought of her past… of her many miscarriages, stillbirths, and dead babies. All of them still haunted her. "No woman deserves that, Viserys. You can't condemn your child to be a bastard."

He shook his head. "Not fair… it's not fair… I wish kepa had won! I wish Robert Baratheon killed Rhaegar!" Rhaella said nothing, merely burying her face in Viserys' hair and letting the tears fall.

Her feet carried her aimlessly through the corridors of Winterfell, mind a fog and barely hearing Jaime call her name from behind. She loved him, and knew that his arms would be greatly needed later when the full force of what happened hit her, but right now Rhaella needed something else. She needed to forget, to smother the agony of seeing her sons in such a state with proper familial love.

"Grandmother!"

Rhaella's head snapped around, drawn out of her fugue as the adorable figure of Baelon ran towards her. "Your Grace," called Ser Brienne, the large female Kingsguard trailing behind after the Prince. "Do not run far from me."

Seeing her grandson heading for her and her alone, Rhaella opened her arms and gladly took his eager embrace. Holding him tightly. "Oh, my sweet little dragonwolf." Rhaella pressed kisses to the crown of his head, inhaling the spicy scent of his hair. Though dark as night, in everything else he was exactly as his father at that age.

Ser Brienne stopped, bowing low. "Queen Rhaella… forgive me. The Crown Prince simply is a feisty little one who got away from me for a moment."

Hearing the Kingsguard's apology, Rhaella couldn't help but chuckle. "Believe me, I raised the King. This hatchling isn't anything I can't handle." She tickled his sides, making Jon giggle. "I love you so much, Baelon."

He looked up at her, peering curiously. "I love you too, grandmother." Seeing her, Jon had been eager to hatch his plan in a manner of speaking, but the Crown Prince truly did adore his mighty grandmother, the Mother of Dragons. "What's wrong, grandmother?"

She took a deep breath. "Nothing's wrong, hatchling. I just missed my beautiful grandson." She nuzzled his hair, all curly and soft.

Jon didn't believe her - he could sense she was sad, and resolved to make her happy. "Wanna come watch me spar with Robb?"

Gods, how could this beautiful child get any more adorable? "You've gotten quite good at it, I assume?"

The Prince beamed. "Robb is good but I always beat him. Uncle Ned says I'm gonna be as great as kepa, but no one can be as great as kepa." From his face, he was absolutely serious.

"Oh, I love you my sweet dragonwolf," Rhaella breathed, kissing his cheeks over and over even as it began to embarrass him. "I would love to watch you spar with Robb, though you should include your brother as well. You two should be very close and I am counting on you to get him to be more active."

"I promise, grandmother."

She stroked his cheek. "Such a good boy. A wonderful King you will be… and a husband to your future Queen." The thought brought Viserys to mind and her eyes watered.

"My future Queen is Dany… or Sansa - or both of them like kepa and munas."

Yes, you are exactly like your father, dearest Baelon. "Come on, let's go to the sparring ground. Hopefully we'll find your brother and cousin - where do you think your nephew is, Jaime?"

Jaime smiled. "If I know him, he is there already."

"He does look like you, my love," she replied, reaching out to squeeze his hand affectionately - noticing Ser Brienne shuffle her feet and look away awkwardly. "You should come as well, Brienne. Show the northern ladies here how a woman can fight."

"It would be my honor, your Grace."

Holding onto her hand, Jon waited several minutes as he and his grandmother - Jaime and Breinne trailing behind - walked through the halls before he spoke again. "Grandmother, how did you hatch the dragons?"

She blinked. "I've told you this story before, Baelon. Why are you asking."

Jon was nervous for a moment before he could see there was no alertness in his grandmother's tone, merely a gentle curiosity. "I said what I remembered to Sansa but she doesn't believe me. I wanna convince her. Please tell me again."

Rhaella laughed merrily. Oh, Baelon, trying to charm the pretty ladies even at a young age. Hopefully he could be guided towards one - or two - rather than being promiscuous like Viserys or his uncle Brandon. "Alright, I'll tell you the story again. You're lucky I enjoy speaking of my great deeds to you hatchlings."

The dowager Queen didn't notice her grandson's tiny, devious smile - one he hid between a big grin with his growing baby teeth.


"Stop, just stop." Advancing forward, Jaime saw the two royals lower their sparring weapons. "Both of you have talent, but I would be remiss if I let you go on like this."

Jon gaped, slightly hurt. "What am I doing wrong, Ser Jaime?" While he wasn't Arthur Dayne or kepa, Ser Jaime was his grandmother's love and a very skilled swordsman on his own accord - the Prince respected him greatly and to be critiqued by the Lion of Lannister hurt.

Seeing the Prince's eyes almost in tears, Jaime softened. "You're good, my Prince. Too good in fact." The praise calmed him down. "You take too many risks for the knowledge you have. There's a time for boldness and a time to keep calm and assess your options. Do you understand?"

"I… I think so." Across from him, Rhaenys giggled mockingly and Jon scowled. "Shut up, Rhae," he said, sticking out his tongue.

"You're just jealous that I woulda kicked your butt." Beyond, Dany and Sansa giggled at the comment and it only made Jon more embarrassed and furious.

Rhaella, muffling a giggle herself at how adorable her grandchildren were. "Rhae, be nice to your valonqar."

"Ugh… fine." A following mumbled apology would be the best Jon would get.

Shaking his head, Jaime turned with a smirk to Rhaenys. "As for you Princess…" Her face fell. "You're too eager to show off. That may be fine for a tourney…"

"I will win all the melees!" she proclaimed, her chin up haughtily. "I'll win the jousts too, just like muna."

"I don't doubt that, Princess, but if you hope to learn how to fight in battle, you cannot show off. Battle isn't like a tourney… it's brutal and sloppy. A brawl, not a dance. You have to be more careful and more solid."

While Rhaenys hated being critiqued, she nodded, conceding that Jaime had a point. "Kessa, Ser Jaime."

Cracking his knuckles, Jaime drew Brightroar, letting it gleam in the sun to the awe of those around him - especially his nephew Robb, who looked at the Valyrian steel blade with glee and a hint of envy. You'll get a Valyrian steel sword, dear nephew… just not this one. "I think a demonstration is in order for our young ones. Ser Brienne." The quiet Kingsguard, standing behind the Dowager Queen, blinked. Pointing to herself. "Aye, come forward and draw your sword. I want to show their Graces and my niece and nephew how true knights fight."

As both Rhaenys and Jon scampered back to where the others were, eyes eagerly watching the Lion of Lannister as he dueled with the she-Knight of Evenfall Hall, Brienne looked nervous walking forward. "I wish not to hurt you, Ser Jaime."

He chuckled. "Don't worry, I don't believe anyone will be hurt in this fight." Jaime gave Rhaella a cocky grin, which set the Queen alight with desire. That only made the knight even cockier.

Drawing her sword, Brienne waited for Jaime to form up. Years of training when other girls would wear dresses and learn to knit or write calligraphy, all of it had caused her to be shunned but came to fruition when a spar with his Grace the King led to her donning the white cloak to a shocked court. The greatest of honors, serving alongside legends like Ser Arthur Dayne or Ser Barristan Selmy… but it was Jaime Lannister that drew her. Not as a lover, but more like what Renly Baratheon had been for her before his treason and death.

A mentor… one role that Jaime seemed happy to accept. They had sparred before with blunted swords, but never with real blades and never in front of others. Breathing deeply, she readied her sword and planned to meet whatever attack Jaime made.

The lion knight didn't disappoint. Even in full plate he was fluid, feinting to the left before charging with a rightward swing. Brienne was no slouch and darted back on quick legs, her blade meeting Jaime's. He twirled and slashed from the other side but Brienne was quick with her parries. "You've learned," said Jaime, pulling back to recover.

"I had a good teacher," she replied, earning a smile before Jaime charged again.

"Isn't my uncle amazing?" Robb told his cousin with awe, imagining himself fighting as Ser Jaime did - only with Ice and in the same northern armor as his father.

"Not as good as my kepa," Jon replied, though his mind was elsewhere… This was noticed by Dany and Sansa. The former tapped his shoulder while the other looked at him expectantly. Eager to tell them, he dropped his voice low. "Grandmother told me the story."

Dany grinned. "So we're doing this?"

Jon nodded, looking at Robb. "Tonight. We go tonight."

A sigh from the older boy. "Not going to be easy."

Sansa clasped her hands together, grey eyes dancing with a fierce zeal. "That makes it fun." She sidled up to Jon, leaning close to him. "I'll do my part, cousin."

"As long as the two squids do their part," Rhae murmured, not trusting them as she did Artie and Ally to achieve their goals. "Gods be with us."

"What are you whispering about?"

They all looked up to see Rhaella peering down at them, eye raised curiously.

"The direwolves," Dany answered quickly, smiling widely. "How jealous I am that I can't have one."

"When Frost has pups, I'll give you one, Sansa bubbled, hugging Dany. The two girls smiled, giggling together - genuinely - and placating Rhaella.

Finally, after what was a far longer spar than either Jaime or Brienne expected, the blade clattered on the ground and Brightroar stopped right before it could chop through Brienne's neck. "Yield," he demanded.

"I yield," Brienne replied. She was smiling in spite of her loss. "Your teachings have greatly benefitted my form, Ser Jaime."

"I should hope so, Ser Brienne. You're a Kingsguard after all." Approaching the others for a gourd of water, Jaime was instead greeted with a pair of arms looping around his neck and soft lips eagerly devouring his - much better than water. "My mighty knight," Rhaella breathed, biting her lip and with a twinkle in her eyes.

"Later, my dragon," he replied, kissing her cheek. "So, your Graces. Niece, nephew - do you see how it's done?"

"Yes, uncle," Robb replied.

"Yes, Ser Jaime, replied Jon, Rhaenys, and Aegon.

Clapping his hands, Jaime eyed the bunch. "Who's next then?"

Robb raised his hand. "Me, uncle. Me me!"

"Alright, Ser Robb of House Stark. Get in there!" He mussed the boy's blond curls and watched with a grin as Robb darted eagerly onto the training field, picking up a child's practice blade. "Now, the heir to Winterfell needs a sparring partner. Any takers?"

While normally he and Jon usually sparred - and if not Jon it was Theon - Robb surprised them all. "I want Egg."

All eyes were glanced in surprise to the equally surprised Prince Aegon. "Me? No." He shook his head, trying to deny.

"Robb," warned Rhaella. She supposed that being with Jaime made her his aunt, and she was thusly protective. "It may not be a good idea…"

"I want to see him do it. I think he'll be good like King Rhaegar," Robb insisted.

"Yes, brother, go," Jon added, equally insistent.

"Valonqar…" Egg warned…

"Do it, Egg." Now Dany was pushing him onto the ground. "Don't be a babe."

Looking once more behind him, seeing not only Jon and Dany nodding at him but also Rhaenys joining in. He sighed and went for one of the swords. It was unfamiliar in his hands, but he had watched enough spars to have picked up the basics. "Into place, Prince Aegon," Jaime began, ready to step in if needed. Aegon took his stance, trying to recreate what he saw his kepa and brother doing. "Begin."

Robb darted forward in a simple lunge, doing his best to be gentle - and with joyful surprise Egg managed to parry the strike. The move was sloppy and unsure of his form, but a parry nonetheless. "Go Egg!" Dany called out much as she had for Jon.

But it was for naught for Robb recovered and thrusted again, hitting Egg in the shoulder and sending him to the ground. "Aegon!" Rhaella was by his side in moments. "Are you alright?"

Gritting his teeth, Aegon felt the pain in his shoulder. It was close to agonizing and he wanted to cry, but seeing the gazes of not just his family but the servants and guards within Winterfell… No, he would not let them think him weak. "I'm fine," he said. "Again."

Sensing Rhaella's worry, Jamie tried to intercede. "My Prince…"

"Again, Ser Jaime," he insisted, forming up again to face Robb - face almost exactly like Rhaegar's. "Don't hold back, cousin."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Egg." And again it began, Prince Aegon fighting for his inner dragon to wake.


It truly was lonely, being King. Lonely and ever greuling. Some were content to just wallow away in their pleasures and glories rather than care about the finer tasks of ruling and duties of stewardship that the crown gave them - monarchs such as Aegon IV came to mind in this manner - and much as Rhaegar wished he couldn't abandon the oath he swore upon his coronation.

Either his oath as a King or his oath as a husband.

The former had already battered him that morning when dealing with Viserys - by the gods he hadn't wanted it to go as far as it did, but his valonqar needed that lesson after so long. Hopefully having a wife and child will bring him out of his bitterness.

Rhaegar chose to believe that - to hope, for the sake of his family and that of his muna.

Ned, thankfully, said nothing about it though it was beyond doubt he heard from Lyanna all the details. His goodbrother merely helped him with the latter oath, one that Rhaegar dearly hoped would bring some much needed love and comfort into this trip that Viserys threatened to derail it. Sensing his exhaustion, Ned promised to see to the arrangements and for that Rhaegar was grateful.

Tiredly passing by a grinning Ser Oswell waiting several paces from his door, Rhaegar didn't put two and two together until entering his bedchamber and being greeted by a crackling hearth in the early dusk of the North. "Greetings, my King."

Blinking, Rhaegar's gaze found his two beautiful brides. Unlike the warm northern dresses he saw them wearing only hours before, both Lyanna and Elia had changed into skimpy dressing gowns of Dornish manufacture… ones that barely covered anything and barely shrouded any part of their bodies in such gossamer fabric. Seemingly beastly dress in the cold North, but the fire burned brightly and filled the bedchamber with heat. Curled in a basket by the hearth was little Spirit, the direwolf sleeping soundly, so it was only the three of them. "My loves?"

Lyanna looked at him curiously, only to laugh. "Poor Rhaegar, so burdened by the day that he cannot think straight." She leaned against the wall, sliding a long, alluring leg up the side.

As for his Dornish beauty, her bronzed legs were equally displayed by the gown. "I'm sure he'll figure it out."

Brows knotting, Rhaegar looked around and found the furs spread wide across the bed, joined by candles and several jars of the special spiced oils that his wives, their ladies, and his muna specially imported from Lys. It clicked. "Oh, you want to give me a massage?" In all honesty, it sounded heavenly.

Elia giggled, batting her long lashes at him as if a high-priced courtesan from Sunspear. "Oh, my King, that is only the beginning of our plans for you right now."

A slow grin formed on his face. "Gonna be that kind of massage, eh?" He laughed. "Carry on, my Queens."

"Uh unh," Lyanna replied, smiling wolfishly. "Strip."

"Do you dare command the King?"

"Only the Queens can command the King… unfortunate that Elia and I are your Queens. Now strip." Getting hard at the authoritative she-wolf growl Lyanna employed, Rhaegar wasted no time… though he did draw it out, enjoying their appreciative stares. "Oh gods… what a magnificent dragon you are, my King." From the lust and love in her eyes as she gazed at his nude form, Lyanna spoke genuinely.

Licking her lips, Elia wanted to avert her eyes but was too focused on her favorite parts of her well-built husband. "Rhaegar, you better lay on your back or else we'll never get to the massage."

Chuckling, Rhaegar blew them both a kiss and did as he was told. The bed was comfortable, furs soft on his skin as he laid his head to the side and tried to arrange himself so that his cock didn't ache badly - gods, was he hard for his beautiful brides. Twin swishes of cloth filled his ears as a pair of powerful legs straddled him. "Ready, my love?" Lyanna whispered, leaning down to lick the shell of his ear.

Rhaegar groaned, feeling her bare breasts press against his back. "This is not fair." He tried to wriggle free, but Lyanna was too powerful for him.

"Very fair, now enjoy it." The warm oil soon filled his back, followed by her powerful fingers. "What a strong and mighty King. He needs to be worshipped for what he does for the realm."

"Aye, my love," Elia agreed, covering her hands in oil and working at the knots of his calves. "He deserves the world for the pain he suffers."

Eyes closed, Rhaegar moaned as he felt Lyanna and Elia's hands glide over him. The fire was a toasty perfection, as were the oils that only made their gentle touches even better for the knots and stresses of his muscles. "Seeveeennn hellls…"

"Does this feel alright, my King?" Lyanna again whispered in his ear, trying not to moan as the tips of her nipples scraped against the warm oil coating his back. Between her legs her core grew wet with desire of her own, but Lyanna tried to concentrate on applying much-needed pressure along the thick chords of his neck and shoulder. "Do you wish for us to continue?"

"Oh… if only the maesters of the Citadel could bottle this… milk of the poppy would no longer be needed," he murmured.

"Such a poet, our dragon King is," replied Elia, moving to his feet and working at the rough and cracked calluses there - massaging the oil deep into the skin. "I cannot express how much I love him, Lya.

"Mmmm, I cannot either." They both continued with their ministrations till their hands ached, simply enjoying how their unclothed bodies worked in tandem, as well as rubbing against his own beautiful form. Working at his neck, his back… the planes of abdomen and his sculpted rear… was there no part of him that didn't seem made by the gods?

The answer was a resounding no.

It grew to be too much, and when Elia's warm hands cupped Lya's heaving breasts from behind, there was no more waiting. "Fuck, turn over, love."

Rhaegar obeyed the words of his wives and flipped over finally. Watching both beauties looming over him in all their glory. Gods, even after many babes carried within each looked as beautiful as a maiden. Thin waists, perky breasts that defied aging, plump rears… their faces were beautiful in different ways, hair framing them as they flushed with lust and love - especially as they kissed each other. He loved them, he loved how they loved him - he loved that they loved each other. Rhaegar loved everything about their marriage and wouldn't give it up for the world.

"Mine," he husked, reaching for them…

Only for Lyanna to firmly swat him away. "Don't even think about it. Now it's time for you to relax and let us pleasure you." Grinning at Elia, who grinned back, both knew that they'd enjoy every moment of it.

While their hands had so soothed the stress on his back, it were their mouths and tongues that did the same for his front. The Queens licked and kissed the battle-scarred alabaster skin and taut muscles, both starting at his flat stomach but Elia moving downward while Lyanna tracked the opposite track. Rhaegar hissed as Lya's lips sucked at a puckered nipple. "My loves…" Rhaegar was proud, he was a fierce dragon, but in the face of these two beauties he just let go. "I'm yours…"

"Aye," Elia smiled, wrapping her fingers round his cock and squeezing lightly. Marveling at how it twitched and leaked, her tongue lapping up the tiny pre-seed. "And we're yours, my King."

Lyanna kissed and laved at his neck when Elia straddled him, unable to wait as she sunk onto his cock and took him fully. "She's so tight, isn't she?" Lya whispered in his ears, watching Rhaegar's face contort. "Our Dornish angel… a slattern in the bedchamber."

Gasping from the feel of him stretching her cunt deliciously, Elia chuckled throatily. "Look who is speaking, Northern whore."

"Only for the two of you," Lya shot back. She swung her legs atop his chest, eagerly shimmying forward till her cunt was only inches from his mouth. "All yours, my beautiful dragon," she murmured, moaning filthily as his tongue shot out to lap at her sweetness. "Oh, yes." The reality of her pleasure was far better than even the greatest of her fantasies of dragonlords and Targaryen Kings within these very walls only seven years previously. If only I had them then…

While normally frantic and heated as befitting their blood, the events of the day as well as the languid place of their earlier massage ended up ensuring a slower pace. One that allowed all three of them to truly enjoy the touches and feel of their loves. Lyanna was in the center of attention, enjoying how Rhaegar's hands and fingers danced over her thighs, waist, and ass, teasing the former two with light touches while the latter found the ample flesh dug into and smacked, making her scream in pleasure. From behind, her own muffled gasps filling the room as she rode Rhaegar like a prize stallion, Elia molested her front. Lips attached to her neck and leaving plenty of marks while her hands defiled Lya's breasts, kneading them and pinching her nipples to the encouragement of the she-wolf.

Even as both women wailed their climaxes, soaking his cock and lips with their juices - even as they switched positions, both hungry for more from him - the Queens never ceased proclaiming their love for him in the most reverent of words.

"Our love."

"Our husband."

"The kepa of our hatchlings."

"The mighty King of our Realm."

"A mighty dragonrider."

"The most powerful man we've ever known."

"I love you."

"I love you."

"Rhaegar…!"

"Yesssss…!"

After what seemed like hours, Rhaegar held both of his wives tightly as they rested half-on, half beside him - their faces buried in the crook of his neck. "I am the luckiest bastard on the earth," he whispered to them, stroking their bare backs and enjoying their whimpers.

Suddenly, the patter of feet upon the wooden floor heralded a new arrival as Spirit jumped onto the bed. "No," Lya warned. "Down boy."

In that moment Rhaegar felt a cold snout sniff his side, taking in the pungent smell of the oil. "This… is rather perverse if you think about it."

"Leave the pup alone, husband," Elia laughed. "He's so cute… hey…" The pup leaped on Elia's bare back, crawling unsteadily across it till he reached Lyanna's.

"Bad pup," Lya chastised. "Off muna!" Looking up, Rhaegar saw the pup merely sit on his haunches, yawn, and curl up into a ball on Lyanna's back. "Damn it… you… you creature," she sputtered.

Rhaegar felt at a merry ease at this little domestic moment. "Gotta hand it to the boy, he certainly knows the best place to rest."

Elia' put out for a moment, found her lips curling into a warm smile. "It's true, husband. I've slept with my head in that wondrous place for nigh hours."

"You two are unbelievable," Lyanna replied, huffing… though it wasn't long before she was smiling as well.


Hearing the fifth hiccup in the span of ten minutes, Prince Baelon - bundled up in his thick furs to ward off the cold - looked up at his sword sword. "You alright?"

Sandor Clegane steadied himself against one of the trees in the godswood. Not the heart tree though. Did that once and almost got gutted by the Queen. "Nothin', just… might've drank more than a bit." The pretty serving girls, as if fawning over him, kept replacing his tankards at dinner - whenever he finished one a fresh one was handed to him. He must've drank about five.

"Perhaps you need to relieve yourself, Ser Sandor," smiled Princess Daenerys, looking innocent.

"I'm not a Ser, girl." Normally he would've been instantly suspicious, but he was drunk and his mind was slightly foggy. "Mayhaps you're onto somethin', silver pest," he drawled, hiccuping again. The gaggle of Targaryens insisted on coming here to the godswood and since he was on duty, he had to escort them. "You, Princess."

Princess Rhaenys swiveled her head around from where she was playing with Sprinter, the direwolf of her uncle Benjen. "Yes, Ser Sandor?" Unlike Dany, she didn't bother with an innocent face and smirked viciously.

He shook his head. "You're worse than the pest." Dany beamed at that, considering the name praiseworthy. "Watch over the Little Prince, Silver Pest, Little Bird, and Young Lion - make sure they don't do anything stupid."

"Aight, I will." Sandor nevertheless grumbled and he stormed off, trying his best to stay steady. "Little Bird? I assume that means Sansa."

"Apparently my doggie has a soft spot for you, Sansa," Jon smiled, looking at his cousin.

Sansa blinked. "He's scary, sometimes."

Dany scoffed. "Hound is harmless, but you did great." Forgetting about Sandor thanks to Sansa's batting her cute eyes at the servants to continually fill his cups, Dany shifted her gaze to the dark brush surrounding the heart tree. "Come on out," she whispered loudly.

Hiding within the thick evergreen brambles that gave the godswood a wild, primeval air to it, both Artie Mormont and Allyria Dayne emerged, Dornish features nevertheless carried with confidence in the North thanks to their mother and father respectively. "We got 'em. No one even paid attention to us."

Stepping forward, Jon peered into the sacks carried and found the eggs nestled within. Calling to him… as if begging him to let them free. "Excellent, now all we need is the fuel." Eyes peeled around, searching for the Greyjoys.

Sansa rolled her eyes. "I knew they'd flake…"

"Shut it, Sans." Annoyed, Theon emerged from the trees with Asha in tow. "This wood is heavy." Both their arms were piled high with driftwood stolen from the shed behind the kitchens, perfectly seasoned and ready for a nice dry burn. "You're welcome, by the way."

"Not so loud, they'll hear us," hissed Dany.

"I don't know about this…" Egg was still skeptical, as was their aunt Cella. "Still not to late to stop…"

Jon clapped his brother on the back. "Be a dragon, Egg." That quieted dissent.

Soon, the wood was piled into a decent ring with a gap in the center cleared of snow that Jon and Dany could fit in. Asha produced a jar from a small sack and started spreading something all over the fetters and open space. "Whale oil from White Harbor. It'll help it burn."

"A squid would know," Rhaenys teased, earning a glare. She pulled a flint and quickly lit the fire. "No going back now."

Taking a deep breath, Jon reached out to squeeze Dany's hand. "Ready, Dany?"

Dany wasn't nervous - rather beaming with confidence. "Let's go." They picked up the eggs, awkwardly, with Jon struggling to balance four and Dany with just three. Without delay, they rushed to the fire, which was now blazing high.

Immediately, Sansa lost her nerve. "No, stop…" But it was too late, the Prince and Princess disappearing into the flames.

Settling himself into a dark corner of the sleepy keep, Sandor Clegane yanked down his trousers just enough to free his cock. "Fuckin' lioness," he muttered under his breath. "Can't even let a man take a piss…" Apparently with the new cobblestone grounds it was demanded of all the inhabitants to refrain from fouling them with refuse or excrement. Sandor understood it applied to human shit, but for a piss? "She's tryin' to make my life fuckin' difficult," he murmured.

But then the stream of warm liquid left his bladder and he sighed in relief. Now to finish this before his cock froze off in the bitter cold…

"Clegane!"

Shaking some remaining drops off, he stuffed his cock back into his breeches and looked over at someone in northern leathers trotting to him. "Who the fuck are you?"

The man frowned. "Ser Rodrik Forrester. Have you seen my brother, Asher?"

A scowl. "If I don't know who the fuck you are, how the fuck would I know your brother."

Rodrik rolled his eyes. "A way with words, you have, Clegane." His brows knotted suddenly, taking a whiff of air. "You smell smoke?"

"I'm sure the kitchens are still baking and roasting…" He smelled it too, and it wasn't a cooking fire. "Aight, that's strange…"

"Seems to be coming from the godswood…" They looked over and saw an orange-red glow from within the tops of the trees. "No!"

The Hound's stomach dropped. "The children are in there." Seven fucking hells…

"Why are you fucking standing here, come on!" Rodrik was off, Sandor hot on his heels.

Jogging into the godswood, a cacophony of different voices began to ring in Sandor's ears, sobering him quickly. "They're burning! They're burning!" a female voice cried out, sobbing.

Sandor didn't really recognize it, but Rodrik Forrester did. "Lady Sansa!" They found the despondent redhead, shaking with terror. "What is going on?!"

"Stop it, Sansa!" Princess Rhaenys. "They're fine, stupid!"

"We're dead…" murmured Prince Aegon. "We're so dead."

Asha Greyjoy looked nervous. "I want it known I had nothing to do with this!"

"You're not getting out of this, sister," insisted Theon, who also looked scared.

"All of you are babies!" Artie Mormont was as steadfast as his parents.

"Muna… muna…" cried Princess Myrcella, while Princess Alyssa was jumping up and down in excitement.

Through it all, the two men had no idea what was going on. "Stand aside!" bellowed Sandor, pushing through the brush to see what was going on. A large bonfire, one in the clearing of the heart tree but with enough space between it and the other trees to not risk growing out of control - at least if the two human shapes seated within it made him freeze. Eyes dilating as the fiery memories of his brother's torture filled his mind.

Rodrik Forrester gasped. "Seven fucking hells! Is that the Crown Prince and Princess Daenerys?!"

"They're fine!" Rhaenys insisted.

"Fucking hells! Fucking hells!" Alyssa chanted, not knowing what the words meant but thinking them funny.

"You idiot! Stop standing there with your dick in your hand and fucking do something!" He shoved Sandor towards the blaze as he ran back towards the keep. "Help! The Prince is in danger!" he screeched at the top of his lungs.

Still shock still, it took Rhaenys basically hitting him and yelling for Sandor to snap out of it. "They're fine! They're not hurt!"

Squinting… they turned out to be right. The two figures moved, but it seemed more shuffling to be comfortable even as bright red-orange flames surrounded them. "Fuckin' dragons," he murmured. "One cannot even take a piss in peace without you dragons setting a blaze. Or yourselves ablaze." Just like the stories of Rhaella Targaryen. "The King'll feed me to his dragon for sure."

None of them noticed the shifting of the little bundles held tightly in Baelon and Daenerys' embrace.


"You did what you had to do, your Grace," Cersei insisted, arms crossed. "I'm sorry, Queen Rhaella, but Prince Viserys acted abhorrently."

Sipping some mulled wine, Elia snorted. "I would think you'd have some compassion for him, at least?" Rhaegar and Lyanna had long accepted Cersei as the loving wife of Ned, but Elia was a little… more skeptical. She'd heard the whispers of what Catelyn Tully did in the North and of her continued pursuit of Rhaegar even after she and he married. Just needed to make sure, given how she loved Ned as her goodbrother.

An uncomfortable question… at least until Cersei laughed. "Why would I?" She hugged Ned, sitting beside her on one of the loveseats in the sitting room. "Ned and I were expressing our love for each other, not simply satiating base desires - plus we married in the end. No, he's more akin to Robert Baratheon."

"Viserys would do well to make sure he loses a comparison to that pig," Lyanna mumbled under her breath, leading to Rhaegar squeezing her hand. "I met Talisa at the reception for the Volentene triarchs. Unlike the other slavers, she was a nice girl. Viserys better treat her kindly."

"He will," Rhaella insisted. "He's a sweet boy. Just needs guidance."

Rhaegar looked across to Ser Jaime, watching the Kingsguard and his muna's paramour wince softly. A feeling he shared. Why does it seem like she is setting herself up for the greatest agony in the future. He loved his brother, but it was clear that sympathy for what Viserys had gone through blinded Rhaegar to the faults he was developing. "Ned?"

"Hmmm?" the Warden of the North asked.

"You're quiet. Do you have an opinion on this?"

"Yes, brother." Lyanna leaned forward. "Did Rhaegar do the right thing?"

Thinking for a moment, finally Ned nodded. "He needs to learn humility and honor, but be careful. As my mother told my father before she died, insisting too hard to turn someone to a direction they wish not to go builds resentment. It's why he allowed Lya to learn arms."

Lyanna blinked. "Mother said that to him?" Thinking of her father brought her sorrow, which caused Elia to kiss her cheek.

"Aye… Viserys could harbor resentment to you for the rest of his life if you don't approach this carefully."

"Do not worry, Lord Stark." Rhaella looked confident. "I assure you, my son is a good boy. I will make sure he keeps his kind nature and learns honor." Was she the only one that believed that? Seemed like it, though no one was willing to voice their true opinion.

Suddenly, the sound of commotion outside drew their attention… "What in seven hells?" Ned muttered, rising just as Ser Arthur and Dacey burst in, both looking utterly panicked.

"Your… Grace…" Arthur huffed out, clearly having ran all the way from… somewhere far off in the keep.

"Gods, man, breathe!" Rhaegar hissed, rising. "What happened?"

It was Dacey that responded. "Prince Jon and Princess Daenerys… they were playing with a fire in the godswood and then stepped in."

Elia and Lyanna were up in a flash, as was Rhaella. "My babes!" screeched the Dowager Queen, running out at a full speed that would've put horses to shame.

"No! No! No!" Lyanna was in hot pursuit, legs pumping, followed by Elia. Faces ashen with terror, the King and Warden of the North joined them.

Cersei, alone among the group, looked at her brother. "I would assume they're all unburnt. The King emerged unscathed with his dragon, as did Rhaella."

Jaime shrugged. "Children are children, especially when they're your own."

"Very true." While rushing after them, it was at a leisurely pace without fear.

Getting there first, seeing a hustle and bustle of guards, servants, and guests milling about the entrance to the godswood, Rhaella burst her way in - assisted by Ser Barristan when he caught sight of her. "Where's my daughter?!" she screeched. "Where's my grandson?!"

"Your Grace…" It was Benjen. "Please calm down, nothing's the matter…"

"Calm down?!" Elia shrieked, now arriving.

"Ben, you say that to me when it's Allyria in a fire!" Lyanna wasn't taking shit from anyone, close to drawing Wolfsbane if she didn't get answers.

"Muna! Muna!" It was Egg, running to hug their skirts. "Come see, something amazing!"

"What? What is it Egg?" Rhaegar jogged up.

Seeing her father, the once despondent Sansa ran over and tugged at his arm. "Poppa, it's wonderful."

"Child, please tell me…"

"Just come see." Lord Tywin was there too, shaking his head in disbelief. "I've seen it happen before, but it still gets me."

Before any of the royals could ask, a loud shriek filled the icy air of Winterfell, halting all conversation. Seated cross-legged in the midst of the smoldering wreckage of what had been a pretty sizable fire were Jon and Daenerys, fully nude and covered in soot but otherwise unharmed. However, no one noticed that. Instead, the seven crawling shapes were the draw.

"It… it can't be…" Rhaegar walked towards his son and his sister, utterly transfixed.

Sansa hugged her brother. "It worked!" she whispered into his ear, filled to the brim with excitement.

Seven newly-hatched dragons - one the color of cream, a sapphire one, one of a royal purple, one gold with white streaks, one of burnt orange, a silver one, and the largest black with streaks of red. The remaining eggs had hatched in the fire, and now were crawling all over Jon and Daenerys to the amazement of everyone.

Rhaella was soon beside them, equally as amazed as Rhaegar. The dragons peered up at her, but seemed more keen on rubbing their muna and kepa for warmth. "You… you…" what words could she say?

"Babe dragons!" bubbled Alyssa, simpering in glee.

But it wasn't her that darted forward towards the whimpering, squirming hatchlings that crawled all over the shoulders, chests, and heads of Jon, Daenerys, Rhaegar, and Rhaella. The one who did was quite surprising. "Cella!" called out Jaime, ever the overprotective father for the Princess almost universally regarded as the sweetest and most delicate of the Targaryen brood. Never one to speak up, never one to break the rules.

And yet there she was, approaching the dragons. Jaime almost ran to her but was stopped by a look from Rhaella. "Daughter?" she asked.

Cella's innate shyness came out and she bit her lip. "Jon… Dany…" Her eyes were glued to one particular dragon nestled in Dany's arms - his scales golden with white streaks through them. "Can I…?"

Giggling as the hatchlings wriggled all over her, Dany nodded. "Take him." She presented the hatchling, extending her arms.

The Princess looked up to her mother only to see a proud smile on her face. "Go ahead. Bond with your dragon, my sweet.."

Filled with confidence, Cella darted in and scooped up the dragon. Feeling the warmth of his scales and the surge of fire in her veins. She gazed into the eyes of the tiny beast, almost feeling what he felt.

Muna…

She blinked. "You talk to me?" Cella murmured in High Valyrian.

Muna. Still a babe, the hatchling crawled with his wingclaws to Myrcella's head, screeched once, and promptly curled up to sleep.

Finally, a servant managed to find a couple of cloaks to cover the Crown Prince and Princess, who were starting to shiver now that the heat of the fire began to leave their bodies. Rhaegar took one and draped it over Jon, causing the hatchlings to hiss and jump but otherwise welcome. "Kepa?" Two bright violet eyes looked up at Rhaegar. "Are you angry?"

Rhaegar sighed. "You scared all of us half to death, my son." Jon looked away, guilty. "But you did… gods, I'm proud of you." That coaxed a smile.

"We hatched dragons like you, muna," Dany said to Rhaella, the smile from when she first felt a hatchling crawl atop her only growing wider now.

"You did, daughter." Rhaella kissed her head, mindful of the dragon half resting on it. "The Crown Prince and Princess welcome seven new dragons into the world!" the Dowager Queen proclaimed.

It was Asher Forrester, watching from a growing throng of onlookers, who spoke next. "Aegon and Visenya come again! The Conquerors reborn!"

"Conquerors reborn!" That was from Sansa, clapping her hands together excitedly for her cousins and playmates.

Swords were drawn, praise heaped on the extraordinary actions. "Conquerors reborn!"

The largest of the hatchlings, black with red streaks, mounted Jon's curly head and extended its wings. A wild shriek left its maw, echoing through the entire godswood and all of Winterfell beyond, joined not moments later by three powerful roars.

A/N: Those... kids! They just have to still being based and dramatic, lol. Gave their parents a heart attack but it was worth it, no?

Well, Viserys done stepped in it multiple times.

Just wait till little Spirit is bigger. Then he'll really ruin Lyanna's sexy time XD

Be sure to comment! The more I get the sooner I'll update.