A/N: Hi guys. So, we've reached the end. Not the end of the tale, but the end of this particular part. Glad to have had you on board the whole way through!
Already, a much better fate than canon. Rhaegar alive, Lyanna Alive, Elia alive, Rhaenys/Aegon alive, Cersei and Jaime in good relationships, Ned with a solid partner, and baby Jon and Dany in happy childhoods surrounded by family that loves them. What a world.
And here we have the final part, where we conclude the first chapter and tease up the next ones. Enjoy.
Chapter 94: Godswood
"Thank gods the winds have abated." Lyanna ran her hand along the still clothed back of her beloved. One thing she disliked about the North… the cold prevented Elia from wearing the revealing Dornish dresses that the hotter climes of the south so allowed her to do. Granted, the Queen hated when the other men - and sometimes women - of court eyed her wife, but being able to ogle her herself made up for it. "A gentle snowfall this night, so we can sleep unmolested."
Straddling Lyanna's hips, the Dornish Queen frowned at the breaking of their kiss. Now was a quiet moment for them - the children busy, duties done for the day, and a rather active direwolf pup asleep in front of the fire curled up in warm blankets. All that was missing was their husband, but he'd return. But, she decided to play along - while grinding down on Lya's hips thanks to her hiked up dress. Elia reveled in how her wife bit her lip. "I actually like the blizzards. Louder the better."
Lyanna eyed Elia curiously. "Really? That goes against everything I've come to know about you." Of the three of them, Elia was the most voracious cuddler and it was Lya's contention that she did it to seek out warmth from both her and the human brazier that was their dragon husband.
"On the contrary." Elia leaned in to Lya's ear, tongue darting out to lick the shell as she was feeling frisky. "More noise outside means we don't have to be quiet here."
Her eyes fluttered shut as the Dornish goddess kissed down her neck. "Ohhh yesss…" There were no arguments from Lyanna as she grabbed two handfuls of her wife's pert rear…
"Your Graces."
"Go away, Arthur!" hissed Lyanna rather throatily.
Another knock. "Sister, open up." Ned.
Groaning, Elia eased herself off of Lyanna and fixed the skirts of her dress. "What do you two want?" she asked exasperated.
Ned gulped - they may have fixed their dresses, but couldn't hide their flushed skin. It wasn't hard to guess what they had been doing. "Ummm… his Grace requests you to join him."
That was unexpected. "Join him?" Lyanna's brow rose. "Join him where."
"He instructed me specifically to not tell you. That he wished for you to see for yourselves." Arthur was close to family, but he was still a Kingsguard and had his duties. "You have my honor as a knight that you will enjoy this, your Grace." He extended an arm to Elia, offering to escort her. Ned did the same thing for Lyanna, and while they were each at a loss they took the proffered hands, allowing the Warden of the North and Knight of the Kingsguard to lead them from their chambers as soon as they grabbed their cloaks.
While they were trusting of Ned and Arthur with their lives, when the two of them led the Queens out of the keep and towards the godswood of all places, Elia started to get suspicious. "What is going on, you two?"
"Nothing." Ned was the one who answered, and his face was like ice. "Rhaegar wishes to meet you in the godswood."
"Sounds more like somewhere I would summon him and Elia to, not he," Lyanna inquired, sharing her wife's suspicion. "He's always sought out warmth like the dragon he is."
"I thought the godswood was pretty warm," replied Arthur - at least compared to the castle it was.
Lyanna smiled at the thought of her mighty husband shivering at the beastly cold of the North. "He's a dragon… he needs more heart just as the Dornish lass does." She motioned to Elia. "Difference is at least she asks to be hugged, among other things." Grinning at Elia, her wife matched the grin.
Ned was still stone-faced. "If you think you can break me by mortifying me, you are wrong."
The Queen groaned. "Fine, I'll wait." Patience wasn't her strong suit, but how bad could it possibly be to require such secrecy?
Waiting at the entrance to the godswood were Benjen and Ashara, the former in the full dress armor of a Kingsguard and the latter in a formal white gown. Each held a red-black cloak in their hands - emblazoned with the sigils of House Stark and House Martell - and were smiling widely. "Thank gods, brother. We were getting worried."
"Hey, try convincing our sister to do anything," Ned retorted, and when Lyanna looked at him he couldn't contain his grin any longer. "We're here, Lya."
"Yes, Ned, I can see we're at the godswood. What's going on?" Looking at the tops of the trees that poked above the walls, there was a low glow about them… as if the center was illuminated by lanterns. Almost as if… "Someone's getting married?"
"Marriage in the godswood…" It became clearer to Elia. "Are you marrying, Ash?"
Lyanna couldn't contain her glee. "I told you! I told you that the vows of knighthood didn't matter in the North!" She threw her arms around her supposedly future goodsister.
Ashara laughed but gently pushed her back. "No, it isn't us marrying… Ben and I don't want to risk anything in regards to his vows and frankly, I'm content with what we have."
Conceding the point, Elia was still confused. "So who's marrying?"
"You are," was the answer from Ser Arthur, making both ladies blink in confusion.
"Um… Arthur, you know we are already married, right?" Elia was wondering if the Sword of the Morning had been hit on the head considerably hard during morning spars. "You were at both of our weddings."
"None of which were under the sight of the old gods, dear goodsister." Ned shifted his eyes to Lya, the greys filled with warmth. "Lya… you always dreamed of being married in the godswood of Winterfell."
Confused fully since Ned had first come to get her, finally the wool was removed from her eyes. She gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. "Rhaegar… he's truly there?" Could it be? Could he truly be more of an amazing husband than he had been?
Ben nodded. "Shivering, but waiting happily for the both of you."
Gasping again, eyes filling with joyous tears, Lyanna moved to her wife and took her hands. "Elia… this… this is all I've ever wanted."
While it hadn't sunk in for her yet, how could Elia deny her love such a dream. "A second marriage… something I haven't heard of, but it sounds romantic." Her brows knotted together. "But who will give us away?"
Ned shrugged. "I know your parents are deceased, goodsister, but perhaps Arthur would be amenable to you?"
Looking at Arthur, she nodded. "I can think of no one better… at least since Oberyn isn't here." Arthur covered his chest, as if wounded. "And for Lya?"
"I thought I could handle it in father's stead." Instead of responding, Lyanna leaned up and kissed Ned on the cheek. Granting her assent.
They donned their cloaks only for a little head to poke out of the godswood. It was Baelon, dressed in a small set of northern leathers with a three-headed dragon emblazoned on his chest - he looked utterly adorable. "Muna! Muna! You're here!" He reached out to tug at Lyanna's hand. "Come on. Kepa's waiting!"
Elia laughed. "Well then, we shouldn't keep our dragon waiting." There was no denying the Crown Prince, the unprepared Queens being dragged along as Ned and Arthur followed.
The godswood was illuminated that night with the light of dozens of lanterns, each hanging from ropes strung between the trees along a snowy path through to the center. Lyanna watched with an awed look. "You planned this…" she murmured to Ned.
He gave a sheepish smile. "Was your husband's idea… Cersei and I merely put together the logistics of it."
She trembled slightly. "Thank you, brother."
Dressed not of wedding attire, they nevertheless saw the trappings of a proper northern wedding observed upon reaching the clearing around the heart tree. Gathered were three dozen, mostly family and their own household, but also the senior Lords of the North and even many of House Stark's retinue - eager to see their beloved lady be married again to her husband. In the van was their family, Rhaella beaming as the children looked to Elia and Lyanna with joyous eyes. The babes were held by their maids, and looked to be sleeping softly.
"You look so pretty, munas," Jon insisted. "Kepa thinks so." With that, Jon leaned up on his tip toes to kiss them both on the cheek before running off to his perch next to Daenerys - they both took each other's hands and watched with excitement.
Everything still surreal to her, it was only when Elia laid eyes on Rhaegar that the full weight of this hit. Her breathing quickened at the sight of him in his kingly leather armor and thick woolen cloak of Targaryen black and red, silver hair let loose to frame his face as it shone in the light of the lanterns. She flashed back to her own wedding, how he looked just as beautiful at the head of the Sept of Baelor… but there was a massive change.
Then, he had worn a mask of royal duty. Now, there was such a look of pure adoration at not just Lyanna, but herself as well. Elia had seen such a look before but this was different. This was a wedding, their wedding. My wedding.
He loves me and will marry me again… marry us again… She would marry both of her loves without anything held back or hidden, and her heart filled with the greatest joy.
Light dancing along the blood-red leaves of the weirwood tree, it was a beautiful sight around the two Queens as they were led down the snow path to their waiting husband and groom, the simple rugged beauty that the North possessed in abundance. Snowflakes glittering like diamonds in their approach. In places the clouds parted, leaving a glimpse of the starry sky and a full moon - a rather auspicious omen for the gathering. Both Elia and Lyanna stopped to greet all their children, gifting them kisses and quick embraces before their eyes settled on Rhaegar's… never looking away. "Who comes before the Old Gods this night?" Howland began, officiating the ceremony.
"I, Lyanna of House Stark, a woman grown and true of birth. I come to be wed in the presence of the Gods." In this moment merely a bride again, she dispensed with all her titles. It was merely the three of them in love with each other - Rhaegar, Elia, and her.
Breath catching a little, Elia steeled herself lest she lose her composure with the emotions she was feeling. "I, Elia of House Martell, a woman grown and true of birth. I come to be wed in the presence of the Gods."
"And who comes to give them?"
"I, Eddard of House Stark. Brother of Lady Lyanna."
"I, Arthur of House Dayne, Knight of the Kingsguard."
"And who comes to wed them in the sight of the Gods?"
Reaching out with both his arms, Rhaegar took their trembling hands. "I, Rhaegar of House Targaryen, King of all Westeros." Perched atop his head was Aegon the Conqueror's crown, the rubies glittering from the lanternlight. "I take both Lady Lyanna and Lady Elia to wed."
"Lyanna of House Stark, do you take this man?"
Her smile widened to the point of breaking. "I take this man."
"Elia of House Martell, do you take this man?"
Elia felt her heart was about to burst. "I take this man."
"Rhaegar of House Targaryen, do you take these women?"
The King resisted the urge to close the distance and kiss them each so hard that they would be rendered mute. That time would come. "I take these woman," he breathed softly, never taking his eyes away from the both of them - sparing each equal moments of the purest adoration. From the small blush on Lya's pale cheeks and the tears in Elia's eyes, it was working.
Together, they knelt before the weirwood to make their prayers to the old gods. Man and wives long before this… for the life of them, it felt like the first true wedding they ever had.
"And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave,
"Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave,
"And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave,
"Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave."
Her song… the song that made her fall in love with Rhaegar all those years ago. Lyanna heard a rendition so beautiful that she was driven to tears, as were nearly everyone around her - but this time it wasn't Rhaegar who sang it, the utterly beautiful beautiful man seated right beside her at the high table of Winterfell. No, it was her dear son Baelon, possessed of his kepa's voice. Gods, Lyanna was so happy he inherited Rhaegar's voice.
"High in the halls of the kings who are gone,
"Jenny would dance with her ghosts,
"The ones she had lost and the ones she had found,
"And the ones who had loved her the most."
Not a dry eye in the entire great hall, claps and cheers rang out as Lyanna was first out of her chair. Running to her son and hugging him close. "My beautiful son. I love you."
"I love you too, muna," Jon replied, hugging her back.
After that, he quickly ran back to where the other young children were, given the honor of being at the feast and thus quite excited and hyper. Lyanna, meanwhile, sat beside her husband once again. "I'm starting to see why you think he's me with your coloring."
She looked at Rhaegar, lightly grinning at her. Gods, she wanted to kiss that grin off his face. "That was beautiful, Rhaegar… all of this… just perfect." He pressed his hand atop hers, which led to Lyanna taking it and bringing it to her cheek - nuzzling the strong palm. "You didn't have to do this for me."
"Fulfill your girlhood dream? Aye, I did. All you mean to me, it was a duty of mine." In that moment Lyanna felt like she fell in love with him all over again.
Their moment together was interrupted as Elia returned from speaking with Ashara, her delicate fingers brushing sultrily over Lyanna's neck before grabbing Rhaegar's hair and kissing him senseless. Tongue plunging in powerfully, drawing a ragged line of drunken cheers from the bawdy lords of the North.
Seated by himself - an eventuality that occurred ever since his aunt had been whisked away by a grinning Greatjon Umber for a dance - Tyrion didn't fret about that. He was used to it. No, the empty mug of ale was what brought him to the verge of sorrow. The dark liquid had tasted like watered down piss when he first drank it, but after a year in the North it grew on him. Got one drunk rather quickly, so that helped, especially how it helped warm a person in the icy chill.
"A'notha one, mi'Lord?"
Tyrion looked up to see a pretty maid, offering a large pitcher filled with ale. "Yes, please," he replied, holding out his tankard and receiving a refill by the smiling maid. "Thank you… forgive me, but I don't happen to know your name."
"Marcy, mi'Lord." Unlike many, she didn't look at him with disgust. "Just curious, mi'Lord. Forgive me, but does a dwarf have a dwarf cock?" Sipping at his ale, Tyrion looked up with a frown. "I's never seen one before you."
"I see…" He'd heard all the japes and insults before, and could tell this girl wasn't being scathing - and was quite pretty. "I have been known to be very pleasing to the women that it comes in contact with."
She giggled. "I might have to see that in person, mi'Lord." With a wink, she headed off on her duties, leaving Tyrion grinning.
"See… I told you he was doing fine on his own, now can we go…"
"Shut up, Cersei. Don't do this now." Tyrion looked up to see his dashing brother in full Kingsguard regalia, white cloak so bright it almost seemed chalked. "Greetings, brother," Jaime stated, taking a seat next to him. "Looks like you could use some company, though seems you're in better spirits than I thought."
"Aye, I am, but any company is appreciated." Shifting his gaze to Cersei, Tyrion could see her even more well-put together than Jaime in a woolen dress dyed a perfect crimson that hugged her curves, gold and sapphire jewelry. Arguably a contender for the most beautiful woman there. "Accept my apologies, sister. I didn't intend to draw you away from your husband."
Sighing, Cersei took a seat across from Tyrion. "Ned is currently spending time with the children and his sister, so it's fine." She didn't want to spend this wonderful night with her drunk brother… but there were less tolerable individuals at the wedding feast that she would be forced to entertain if not. "A wonderous thing the King did," she observed."
Jaime clapped his hands together. "Agreed… gods, it was hard to keep his secret… though harder for my dear Rhaella. She was so excited to plan the whole thing."
"An actually happy marriage ceremony," Tyrion observed. "Queen Lyanna's first, it was delightful but the specter of Aerys' madness was looming large. As for Queen Elia's… the less said about that icy ceremony the better." Tyrion had been there along with his father, and didn't wish to be part of such a tense, loveless environment ever again. Looking at the royal table though, Queen Elia was giggling like mad as the King pressed kisses to her neck and ear. Not a smidgen of unhappiness could be found on their faces. "Love is in the air, both for House Targaryen and House Lannister."
Cersei chuckled. "Even father, though he's not looking happy - being away from his new paramour."
"Oh, never call her that in his presence," Jaime mused, shaking his head. "Strike that, never even acknowledge her existence. Our father is in denial of how much she's wormed her way into his heart."
A snort. "And he said he wasn't ever going to replace mother."
"Rhaella thinks there was something between her and Aerys." From Cersei's glare. Jaime held up his hands. "We weren't really there, while she was. And is it such a bad thing, most marriages are arranged in that manner."
The glare remained for a split second before Cersei sighed. "Aye… it's rare to be you and I, brother. Both with those we love… and I suppose father is as well."
"That just leaves me," chuckles Tyrion dryly. "Ironic… we're two out of the three of the royal trio." Both of his siblings looked at him with confusion. "You, Jaime, are with a Targaryen. You, sister, are with a Stark. Just means I'm destined for a Martell - lucky lucky me."
Cersei laughed. "Oh brother, the Wall will melt before a Martell would ever be interested in you."
A raised brow. "Wanna wager on that?"
Thinking for a moment, Cersei nodded. "Alright."
"Come on, let's not do this…"
"Scared, Jaime?"
The Lion of Lannister narrowed his eyes. "Never."
His sister smirked. "Alright, Tyrion, if you do not seduce a Martell to the point of loving you before the Crown Prince marries, then you will have to work as the court fool for a moon."
"Just like Mushroom?"
"Just like Mushroom."
Running a hand through his hair, the dwarf nodded. "Alright, but if I do so, then Jaime's white cloak will be dyed pink for a moon, and you sweet sister will declare in front of the entire royal court how much you love and appreciate your little brother."
"This is ridiculous," Jaime murmured.
Cersei pursed her lips, but nodded. "I'm confident enough that such will never transpire." She raised her goblet of wine. "You're on." They clinked glasses to finalize their wager.
Besides them, Jaime snickered. "Well, Cersei, looks like you have some competition."
Curiously, Cersei looked around to see her husband dancing with Queen Elia. "Don't do that, you had me worried for a moment."
"Trust me, that man has eyes only for you," Jaime murmured, rising. "But you shouldn't be without a partner. Allow me to treat you to one." Cersei gave him a smile and accepted his proffered hand.
Slowly gliding along to the music of the rather adept northern minstrels, Elia chuckled. "Well, Ned. Looks like your goodbrother is the one dancing with your wife."
Ned laughed. "Good… I'd hate to wish to punch a man that put his lecherous hands on my wife. Jaime is who I'd wish to dance with her."
The Queen wanted to say something… she had heard rumors and whispers in her past, but declined. No sense in digging up the dead. Instead, Elia sighed happily. "You're a good dancer, Lord Stark."
"Jon Arryn taught me… said it would be a must to charm a southern lady. Happened with Cersei many a time though I never did find out with Catelyn."
"She wasn't much of a dancer, was she?"
He shrugged. "We never danced… never did much of anything not required by duty, to be honest." A flash of guilt passed over him, but only a flash. "Forgive me, Elia, but ultimately only Sansa and Rickard were worth anything from that marriage."
"Do not apologize, Ned. I know how you feel." Elia looked down, biting her lip. "Such was how I felt for Rhaegar before Lyanna came in our lives. A marriage much like yours and Catelyn's… now though." Elia looked to her husband and wife, the two of them watching her with love and a barely contained hunger. "This is how it should've been, Ned. No worries, no politics, no resentment or madness… just us. Just love."
"The heralding of a proper future. If only my father and brother were here to see it."
"I think they and my mother would've gotten along. Wolves, vipers, and dragons, who would've thought it?" Ned certainly hadn't, but it worked out.
The Dowager Queen was the happiest she'd been in a while. Her son proved himself just as much a romantic as her father had been - never once did she see her mother Queen Betha ever be saddened in regards to her marriage - righting the wrongs of the past and giving a symbolic reforging of the bonds that his marriage now had. Rhaella had once been shamed that she couldn't have provided him a sister to marry and be the warrior queen any Targaryen King needed, but with Elia and Lyanna by his side Rhaegar had rebuilt their family and reestablished the House of the Dragon. She couldn't have been prouder.
"I'm glad you've joined us, my sweet boy." On top of it all, her entire family save for uncle Aemon were here in the great hall - even Viserys, finally trudging out of his chambers where he had been since the blow up earlier… but the Prince didn't look happy about it, which dampened her happiness. "Please, Viserys. Do try to enjoy yourself."
Leading his mother in the dance, himself just as tall as her, Viserys scowled. "I'm here, muna. I wouldn't miss it, but don't expect me to be happy for my brother after what he did."
You put a child in the girl, Viserys. Much as Rhaella wanted to, she couldn't hurt him with such blunt comments. "Don't think of this as a punishment. Talisa was a good girl as I remember. You can be happy, especially since you are to be a father."
"She's not the woman I would've wished to marry, muna. Only one deserves that title."
Letting him guide her, Rhaella heard giggling all around. The particular dance was one of parents and children. Rhaegar twirled around a laughing Rhaenys, while Elia and Lyanna let Baelon and Aegon guide them respectively. Ned danced with a merry Sansa, while Robb looked a little shy with Cersei… the sight of Jaime dancing with her little Myrcella made Rhaella's heart burst with love. "Imagine it, my son. Dancing with a little girl of your sire. Looking a perfect Targaryen."
The thought made her son look… confident? Smug? "That is something worthy of thinking of, though hopefully she won't have any of her sullying features. A proper dragon." Rhaella sighed, leaning forward to kiss his brow. She'd cut her losses where she could.
Song ended, the children were hugged tightly by their parents, plenty of kisses pressed to cheeks and foreheads. Another song was put on, this one to be shared by King Rhaegar and Queen Lyanna - the next presumably to be shared by the King and Queen Elia. While Lyanna wouldn't have minded to lead Elia in a dance, the show of modesty was at least needed for the sake of the Faith and others. Lyanna already resolved to share one in their chambers after they retired.
Viserys, feet aching, sat on one of the tables in the rear. Seeing Rhaegar and Lyanna dancing together, the latter leaning against the former's shoulder with dreamy smiles on their faces, he cursed under his breath. You're happy… you're content with your wildling. Why must you ruin me when you would never ruin yourself in such a manner?
"Normally it's your brother who broods that hard." Viserys looked up to see the tipsy dwarf brother of Ser Jaime. "You two clearly share blood with that look."
The Prince rolled his eyes. "Go away, dwarf."
Tyrion Lannister raised an eyebrow. "Quite blunt. Most try to make a joke out of it. I've heard them all." He sat across from Viserys, not that the Prince wanted to see him. "I can tell why you're upset, my Prince, and came here to offer some advice."
Viserys scoffed. "What advice could you give to the one who happens to be treated as a bastard of the Targaryen family?"
"All dwarves are bastards in their father's eyes." Their gazes locked together. "You may feel lost or controlled or hated, but you have the blood of the dragon. Never will you not have power or influence, so do not let yourself destroy the good graces of your family. It's what I did." He pushed himself off the chair and ambled off, leaving Viserys to stew in his bitterness.
Once the two dances were done, Rhaegar clapped his hands, drawing all attention to him. "Lords and Ladies of the North, honored guests, your celebration of the renewal of my marital bond to my beautiful Queens under the sight of the old gods is much appreciated by myself as your King. However, now comes time that I must bid you goodnight."
"And we know what that means!" boomed Greatjon Umber, him and Genna Lannister - who hadn't left his side all night - both laughing uncontrollably. They were joined by many of the Northmen and quite a lot of the Targaryen household, making bawdy japes that were lost on the children but caused Lyanna to blush.
"What does that mean, muna?" Dany asked Rhaella.
Her cheeks flushed as well. "Don't worry about it, Daenerys." The Princess wanted to enquire further but saw her muna was not one to pry at that moment.
As Rhaegar led his smiling Queens out, Jon ran over to them with Alyssa in tow. "Where you goin' kepa?" He reached up. "Can I come?"
"Yeah, muna! Come with you!" Alyssa was much more insistent, while Baelon's tone was more a gentle pleading.
The royals didn't know what to tell them, but luckily Ned rescued his sister, goodbrother, and goodsister from a delay in their plans and an awkward explanation. "They need to rest after a long day, niece, nephew. But would you like to see something wondrous from the roof of the keep?" Both nodded, excited. "Don't say you don't owe me for this," he whispered to Lyanna.
"I wouldn't dream of it." Lyanna kissed him on the cheek and then tugged at her loves, leading them towards their guest chambers.
Ned intended for it to be just Jon and his spirited niece Alyssa - more a wolf than even Lyanna was ironically enough - but that was shortsighted on his part. "Do we have to go in the cold," shivered Dany. Normally very tough, the Princess did not enjoy the freezing weather of a northern night.
"Don't be craven, Dany," Rhaenys teased.
"I'm no craven," she shot back, only for her teeth to chatter.
"Here, Dany." Sansa came and wrapped an arm around her. "I help warm you up." That seemed to help Dany's mood, the Princess returning the embrace. It warmed Ned's heart.
Feeling a tug on his cloak, Ned looked down to see it was Egg. "What are we here to see, uncle Ned?"
Smiling, Ned ruffled the wild curls of the Prince. "Something we haven't seen yet cause of the clouds."
Sansa's eyes widened. "Oh, that?! Gods, Jon, Dany, you have to see this. It's amazing!"
"She's right," Robb conceded. "Very very pretty."
"What?" Jon was curious.
Ned grinned. "Look up."
They did, and jaws dropped and gasps were heard at the sight. "Wow…" A panoply of color danced in the sky, almost like a flowing river coursing through the entire landscape of the pitched black sky and thousands of twinkling stars. "It's like a rainbow," Rhaenys murmured.
"What is it, uncle?" Baelon asked.
"The Northern Lights. We grow up with it here in the North, so they're pretty recognizable. Southerners never see them so they hold an almost otherworldly beauty to them." They were just as beautiful to him too, now that he thought about it. "Do you like it."
"Yes, uncle Ned, of course!"
Dany watched them with amazement. "You're right, Sans, they're beautiful."
"I know." The two girls hugged close and watched the lights… only distracted when Baelon hugged them both from behind. That didn't last long, gazes drawn skywards again, unknowing that nearly three hundred years before another trio did the very same thing come winter, enjoying the majesty of nature and letting their minds wander to the vast future awaiting them underneath the wonders of the gods.
The more bawdy of the Northmen made japes over drink regarding the King and Queens. Over how soon it would be before clothes went flying - some suggested immediately pushed to the bed, others hypothesized that the King would pin one Queen against the wall and ravish her… or a Queen pinning the other Queen much to the lecherous grins of many men… and more than one woman. Boldest among them even laughed at the prospect of it starting even before they reached their chambers.
Who hadn't taken a woman in an alcove in the corridors?
Not that they would ever know, but none of them were correct. Ten minutes into shutting themselves within their chambers, spacious and well furnished for the most honored guests in Winterfell, all three of them were still dressed - if shucking their more uncomfortable garments. No passionate kisses. No frenzied tangles of libs and roving tongues. Just Rhaegar seated on the bed, playing his harp and filling the chambers with the most beautiful of music.
He had danced with both his Queens, but neither of them was able to dance with each other per propriety. Something Elia and Lyanna were keen to rectify.
It was strange for Lyanna, to lead in the gentle motions to Rhaegar's harp. She wouldn't have wanted to do this normally, but for Elia… the beautiful stare of her beloved made it worth it. "You're good at this," she heard her say.
"I'm only as good as my love for my partner." Gently Elia smiled and kissed her on the lips, letting her head rest on Lya's shoulder.
"You know, my loves, I could have serenaded you with my voice as well."
Lyanna leaned her head back to give him a smirk. "You very well could, dearest husband, and we would've loved it - but it is very hard to dance when one is bawling their eyes out." His singing… if it could make the birds stop and listen, it could reduce even the most iron-faced warrior to tears.
While giving them a cross look, Rhaegar's fingers still glided over the strings of the harp, gentle notes wafting out. Lyanna took the musical shift to spin Elia around, the latter giggling merrily as her eyes found Lyanna's again. Rhaegar couldn't maintain anything but a soft expression at seeing them so happy like this. "If you were afraid of falling to tears, then I could very well sing a bawdy song."
"Quite ill-suited to the mood, wouldn't you think, love?" Elia dipped, the dance finishing in a graceful flourish. "This though, this was perfect. You are perfect." Lyanna pulled her up, their faces meeting and Elia looping her arms around her neck. "As are you, my wolf." Without hesitation, the Dornish Queen pressed a kiss against Lyanna's lips, it quickly deepening though still sweet and languid rather than frantic. That could come later. Elia's lids drooped, fluttering from the kiss. "I love you," she murmured.
Lyanna wore the most dopey of grins. "I love you too." Her hands fell to Elia's trim waist. "You can lead next time if you wish."
But Elia shook her head. "No, it's fine…"
"I insist…"
"It's fine," Elia said softly, pressing a finger to Lyanna's mouth. "I like you leading." Her expression turned to a smirk. "If you and Rhaegar haven't notices yet, I rather enjoy having a… strong lover." Unabashedly, she ogled Lyanna's toned arms. Their husband's build was rather notorious, so she needed not emphasize it. "Someone that can carry me and manhandle me… and pin me to the bed and have their way with me."
Grey eyes darkening, Lyanna's hands trembled as she tried to restrain her desires. "Well, you certainly were fortunate in that regard - right, husband?"
Setting down his harp in its case, the gift from his Aunt Jenny quite precious to him, Rhaegar turned with a shit eating grin on his face. "I think Elia needs a demonstration of that, but first a toast." He went to a table where a pitcher of ale rested. "While I do not truly belove this, I also don't dislike it. You love it, though, Lya."
Her eyes lit up. "Oh yes, gimme." He chuckled and poured her a mug. "Gods, Elia, nothing beats this."
"Perhaps," Elia mused, taking her cup with an exaggerated hesitant that earned a swat on the shoulder from her wife. She sipped it. "Certainly fortifies you better than Dornish red."
"We make it to withstand the winters here. Of course it would." Lyanna gulped it down, unable to help herself. "I really need to take up Ned's offer to have this sent to the Red Keep and Dragonstone."
"No complaints from me, my love. I know what you like to do when you've downed a mug or two." Her sultry look after the fact only confirmed his statement. "But first, tell me. Was this surprise enjoyable?"
Their playful banter was replaced, Lyanna's gaze being filled with an intensity last seen on their first wedding night while Elia's radiated the warmest love and affection. "It was all I could ever dream of, Rhaegar," breathed the she-wolf. "Thank you…" Trembling, she set down the cup. "Thank you so much." They kissed powerfully, the passion so laughed over by the Northern Lords finally returning with a vengeance, bodies heating and cores flush with that such wonderful pressure. "Join us, Elia… now." There was no room for argument. "It is our first wedding night, truth be told."
Brimming with emotion of her own, Elia didn't wish to let it out at the moment. Lyanna's comment, true as it was, provided the perfect balm and with a growl she struck. Catching Lyanna with a yelp and shoving her out of Rhaegar's arms and on the bed. "My wife," she husked, unlacing her dress and letting it pool to the floor - leaving her completely nude.
Normally it was her being the aggressor in their couplings, but Lyanna had no complaints. Her naked wife crawling atop her like a stalking cat made the Queen lick her lips, ones soon covered by the Dornish goddess' mouth in a heated kiss. One filled with a frantic passion as the two of them devoured each other. Lyanna's hands gripped Elia's waist and hips while Elia's molested Lya's breasts through the thin gown. Coaxing mewls and whimpers by kneading them hard and thumbing her nipples. "Yes…" she gasped into the kiss. "I'm your wife…"
Seeing Elia in a frenzy, stripping their wife and continuing to assault her with a feral energy so unlike her, Rhaegar wasted no time. They were married under the eyes of the old gods of this keep, the fire was burning hot to banish away the winter, and there was no chance they'd be interrupted. With a grin, he quickly doffed his tunic and trousers, stroking his cock to make sure it was perfectly hard for what he planned on doing.
Sucking on Lya's neck, Elia admired the beautiful purple-red blotch marring her pale skin when she felt a poking against her ass. A split-second later she moaned into Lya's neck, Rhaegar sliding his wonderful cock into her. Stretching her walls, pausing halfway to adjust before bottoming out. "Yes, husband," she begged. "Fuck me… make me a mother again."
The last was said in the heat of the moment, but it seemed to spur both Rhaegar and Lyanna into a whole new torrent of lust. Lyanna crashed their lips together and bucked her hips, seeking contact for her now soaked cunt. As for Rhaegar, he gripped Elia's shoulder in one hand and her hip in the other while setting a bruising pace. "My love… my breeder…"
"Yes, yours…" Elia rocked back into Rhaegar's cock, meeting him thrust for thrust. Fighting the urge to get lost in the pleasure. She would've loved to, but Lya also needed her attention. Without delay, she sunk her fingers into Lya's heat. First two but then adding a third, causing her direwolf to wail into her mouth. "Take my fingers," Elia murmured into her mouth.
"I love your fingers… give it to me," Lya begged. "I can take it."
"Make her cum," Rhaegar ordered, pounding away. "Do it, Elia."
Opening her mouth to say something, it dissolved into a silent scream as her lips quivered, body tensed, and cunt spasmed. Elia never stopped her relentless assault on Lyanna's heat even as she dissolved into a powerful climax. One that shook her completely with one of the greatest pleasures of her life.
Fingers curling deep inside her, Lyanna succumbed as well. The moment occurring just as she caught a glimpse of her beautiful dragon, teeth gritted as he himself shot his seed into Elia.
If anything, however, among the three of them Lyanna's climax only fueled her hunger. "Sit on me, my love," she begged. "I need to taste you."
Elia looked up from where she had collapsed, surprised for a moment but it soon changing to lust. The benefits of being with the one you adored. "Fuck… yes…"
Two slender thighs soon were in place around Lyanna's head, and the northerner wasted no time in darting her tongue at Elia's folds. Moaning as the taste of both her juices and Rhaegar's seed filled her mouth. Hands reached up, going for Elia's breasts. Why did she never realize she loved the female body?
Was it just Elia's that she loved?
Made sense to her, since the only man she could ever desire truly was Rhaegar. Perhaps Tessarion did intend them only for each other?
Witnessing this, Lya's concentration and Elia moaning like a wanton whore at the licks, it made Rhaegar recover quickly. The stamina of youth and dragonblood, and he wasn't about to waste it. Cock naturally slick from Elia's juices, he lined up again with Lyanna, swinging her legs to rest about his shoulders and thrusting in. Not being gentle.
From how she screamed into Elia's cunt, he could tell Lyanna could take it. And take it she did. In no time at all, they simply dissolved. Shattering around and into each other for a second time.
Abdomen shaking, breasts heaving up and down with her pants, Elia gingerly swung her thin thighs off of Lyanna and toppled to her left. "You're amazing," she gasped, turning to face her… only for Lya to have the same idea. "Gods, you're beautiful," she murmured.
"So are you." They embraced and kissed sweetly… only for the bed to dip around them and for a shadow to drape over their forms. Lya looked up. "And now we're complete."
Rhaegar caressed them, his touches loving even as they passed over the most treasured and lustful parts of their bodies. His violet eyes had lightened, sparkling with unshed tears. "My loves…" His voice was hoarse with emotion. "Gods… you are perfect."
Lyanna beamed, never having loved any man as much as she loved him - but it was Elia affected the most. Even after the love blossomed between them, her wedding night had been cold and awkward - she didn't blame Rhaegar for it, but only now that they had married under the godswood did she realize just what she had been missing. The hole in her heart now filled thanks to him and Lya.
Squeezing Lyanna's hand, kissing her softly, Elia leaned up and pressed her forehead against Rhaegar's. "Do you love me, Rhaegar? Truly?" His and Lyanna's love was written from the beginning, but had hers been?
The King couldn't answer that, but he could for his feelings now. "Aye, I do. I am lost without you in my life." Propped on one arm, he cupped her cheek, softly stroking the skin there as she leaned into him. "I love you, Elia."
At that, she burst into soft tears, though it was clear by the smile on her face that they were ones of such great joy that it simply overwhelmed her. Elia leapt forth and hugged Rhaegar tightly, peppering him with kisses. "My husband… my love…" Everything she had prayed and hoped for at her first wedding had finally come true, sealed in her second and joined by the other person to hold her heart. "Lya… com'ere."
"Always." As the two of them collapsed on the bed, Lyanna wrapped her arms around their sides, kissing wherever she could reach as well. The image of a cold bed with a snoring, uncaring Robert next to her reeking of wine while she was curled into a ball could easily have been her life, not this wondrous one with the most beautiful man and woman in the world and so many amazing children. "Thank you, my loves… thank you for all of this."
"Only what you deserve, both of you," Rhaegar insisted, maneuvering himself to lay flat on his back. Lya and Elia were at his sides as they were most nights, only now not bothering any sort of distance - half beside and half laying atop him, hands splayed over his bare skin. "I am yours, and you are mine."
"This day till the end of our days," Elia finished with a smile. Lyanna simply sighed and nuzzled his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
Seven hells, what a life.
There was no time to waste.
Tales of the sickness that affected Baelon Targaryen spread throughout the known world, of how only the efforts of a Red Priestess and the sacrifices of Queen Elia. Years later, as her beloved Daella laid on her deathbed with the red plague, Sarra knew that she had to attempt the same. If the Valryian gods would save the half-breed bastard son of the red dragons, so to could they save their true champion.
The other children were noticeably terrified. "Muna… will Dae wake up?" Gaemon bit his lip, trying to hold back his sobs. The youngest of them were trembling, while even the sullen Aenar looked as if he were to break at any moment.
Sarra leaned down to hug her children. "I promise, she will." Was she trying to convince them or convince herself?
"My Lady, we are ready," said the lead servant, himself fearful.
Nodding, Sarra motioned for the maids to take the children to their chambers as she made her way to Daella. The normally lively girl was covered in blisters, her breath ragged and sweat marring her clammy forehead. "Gods… muna… it hurts… help me…" Her voice was halting, fading away.
Furiously waving to the servants, they began the procession out of the manse. It was on the outskirts of the city - on the mainland. A perfect place to remain unseen. The servants - all slaves purchased especially for them - were noticeably fearful but complied under threat of whipping or crucifixion by a desperate Sarra. Reaching the perch under the starry sky in the midst of a rocky plateau overlooking the entirety of Braavos in the distance. "Go away," Sarra hissed as soon as they had laid Daella gently on the ground and set up what she needed.
The servants were glad to comply, scurrying away.
Reaching down to stroke her daughter's hair, Sarra looked at the chest resting some feet away. Opening it, and finding the scaled spheres inside. Ones stolen from the weak King by the founder of their house. Ones she hoped to give her girl the most immense luck.
With trembling, mindful hands Sarra placed each of the six eggs in place - two in the crook of her neck, two between her forearms and her body, and the last two at her hip. The ovals surrounded Daella, making the still writhing, sweating girl look even more frail and sickly. "Muna… muna… help me…" she murmured, barely coherent.
Tears dropping from her eyes, Sarra avoided the garish rashes and the blisters among them to kiss her dearest girl's eyelid. "I will try, my sweet girl. I love you." Such was the one thing that separated her from her fool of a teacher - that spiteful hag didn't have the capacity to love or care for anyone but herself. Sarra had her children and her legacy, and such drove her power to even greater heights.
Shiera claimed this to be the most powerful of the ancient bloodmagic, but she lied to me before. Hopefully, this would be one of the few truths she had ever been told. Whatever she would have to sacrifice, Sarra knew that Daella's life would be worth it.
Taking in a staggered breath, choking on sobs that threatened to form, the great-great grandaughter of Daemon I Blackfyre took the candle next to her and tossed it into the pile of pitch-covered fetters arranged in a pile just feet from Daella's still form. The flames immediately rose high, cracking and popping as they danced before her. No going back.
"Glorious fire… the blood of those born of you courses through my veins," she began in the purest High Valyrian, the same language of the premier dragonlord families of Old Valyria. "Through you, I seek audience with those that birthed the world and provided glory to my people." As she spoke, she sank to her knees in supplication.
Reaching into the sack by her feet, she removed the first artifact - the first sacrifice she needed to make. "Bone of thy father, unknowingly given, you will renew your daughter!" Without hesitation, Sarra tossed Illyrio's humerus into the flames, seeing it already start to blacken. One last thing you can do for me, you fat wretch.
"Blood of the mother," she continued, drawing a dragonglass knife and slicing her forearm. It hurt, but she bit back the pain, enduring it in steely resolve. "Willingly sacrificed, I show my devotion before the pantheon for the life that I cherish most." Bright crimson blood - reflecting the orange flames off its surface, sprinkled onto the blisters marring the bare chest and stomach of her daughter before Sarra then let it drip into the flames themselves.
Already, Sarra could feel the fire changing - growing hotter yet more comforting, as if under her control. The power filled her, and she pressed on. "Flesh of your child, brought forth to be judged in your name. If there is one among you that seeks her salvation, come before the flames of the line of your noble martyr, Daemon of House Blackfyre, First of his Name, and grant this innocent soul the glory of life once more!" Unafraid of the plague, she cast herself upon Daella's body, beginning to weep from the enormity of it all. Please… please save her…
She didn't know how long she held Daella's body, sobbing in a manner that would've provoked a beating from her teacher… but it seemed like only moments before a loud whoosh was heard. Slowly she raised her head, eyes widening at what she saw. In front of Sarra and Daella were the flames, but instead of the red-orange hue they were jet black. A dark black, malevolently so but still almost calm.
'I have heard you, my daughter…' The flames seemed to pulse as Sarra heard the words. 'Fear not what is about to happen, for all shall be well… as long as thy do my bidding.'
Gulping, Sarra nodded. "I am your humble servant, oh…" She realized she didn't know the name of the deity that seemed to answer her prayer.
As if reading her mind, the flames pulsed again. 'Balerion… I am Balerion.'
The god of death himself. Most would be terrified, but Sarra only smirked softly. Equally darkly. She had gotten the most powerful of gods as her champion. "Great Balerion, I am your servant."
'Hold yourself…' In a sudden gust of wind the flames erupted from the pyre and enveloped Sarra, Daella, and the eggs. A scream almost left Sarra's throat, but she quickly realized that she wasn't aflame. The tongues of black fire were all around the two of them but they were untouched. Unburnt.
"Muna… muna… what…"
She embraced her still delirious daughter tightly. "All is well, my love. All is well." Eyes closed, Sarra soothed Daella in a tight embrace, feeling the roaring heat of the flames as a gentle balm on her skin rather than the ghastly torrent of death as would afflict one without the blood of the dragon.
Eventually, the flames died - leaving not but the first tendrils of the sun poking over the horizon to the east of Braavos. Pacing her breaths among the acrid smoke, Sarra opened her eyes to see the greasy soot covering both her and Daella. Her clothes were burned to ash leaving her supple form nude to the world, but she cared not. Immediately wiping off the soot from Daella…
And finding her skin clear and unblemished. Her breathing was even, no longer labored, forehead no longer grey and mottled but a healthy glow.
She was cured, and Sarra almost collapsed into joyous sobs.
But a tiny cry off to her side drew Sarra's gaze… causing her jaw to drop in complete shock. Crawling about Daella's hip was a tiny dragon hatchling, its body a mix of red and black, head cocked at Sarra before continuing its journey. Something grabbing to her skin made Sarra look down, seeing two other hatchlings… no, six in total. All the eggs had hatched.
"Muna?" Eyes snapped back to Daella. Her form was sluggish, but strong. Devoid of the plague that was so gripping her. She stared in wonder at the red-black hatchling hopping onto her chest. "Is that?"
Sarra embraced her daughter. "What this is, daughter… this is hope. This is our victory." This is how we complete the founder's work… ridding the red line from Westeros. The largest of grins crossed Sarra's face as the hatchling spread its wings and screeched to the sky.
And from the heavens, wearing a matching grin, Balerion could only whistle as he tasted the beginnings of his triumph. All that was left was to wait.
TO BE CONTINUED...
A/N: And there we go. A fitting end to this journey.
If I can get 40 comments before the 26th of December, then I will post the sequel on Monday December 27th.
