The Red Keep was more alive than it had been in many moons. The new queen wasted no time in removing all aspects of House Lannister.

Efforts to remove the bodies and clear the rubble left behind in the city were taking place while Daenerys prepared for her coronation.

However, she was not sure when that would take place.

The Queen in the North was still incapacitated, and it would be unbecoming of her to go forth with the ceremony without her most loyal ally present.

Before Daenerys reached the door of the maester's chambers, she could hear the agonizing screams.

"Let me die," moaned Bellegere as the handmaids held her down. "I can't take anymore. I can't... I can't."

"Hold still, your grace!"

"It's almost over, Belle."

When she opened the door, the smell of blood and burning flesh made her stomach turn uncomfortably.

"What is happening?"

Prince Jon stood rigid with wide, horrified eyes. He'd been watching the procedure for days now, holding his sister's hand through it all.

Runa had been present with them, but the fiercely protective direwolf refused to allow the maesters to treat her mother.

Thus, Bellegere ordered her away.

"They are removing the rest of the arrows," he said, grimacing. "Some of the wounds have begun to fester, so they thought it best to cauterize them."

"No! No, please-"

Daenerys winced as a red hot metal spatula was placed onto Bellegere's back.

The brunette strained to get away.

Her mouth opened in a silent scream before she seemingly fainted from the agony.

Daenerys rushed over to hold her other hand. It was damp with perspiration and feverishly hot. She touched the Stark's forehead, and it felt the same.

"She's very ill. Burning from within," Maester Luwin said, frowning.

"We are doing everything in our power to bring the fever down. All we can do is wait and see if our methods will work."

Daenerys wanted to tell them to try harder, but she knew they were doing their best already. There was no need to be angry with the only people helping Belle.

"What of King Brynden?"

"He is making a slow recovery. The arrows pierced a very small, bile filled organ in his abdomen. We had to open him up and cleanse the entire cavity. He must drink his fill of milk of the poppy until the sutures heal properly."

"Is the king sleeping at present?"

Maester Luwin shook his head.

"Wide awake, unfortunately. As stubborn as a mule and as strong as an ox, that one."

While the maesters finished their work, Daenerys took it upon herself to check on the King Consort of the North.

When Bellegere awakened, she hoped to give her some sort of message from the man she loved so deeply that she risked her own life for him.

She swallowed back her bitterness at the thought of that.

"Queen Daenerys," Brynden Blackwood rasped, grimacing as he struggled to sit upright.

"As you were, your grace. Don't injure yourself any further."

Daenerys approached with a chalice of water, and he took it gratefully. She stood awkwardly while he gulped it down.

They had only ever shared one conversation outside of the usual pleasantries between monarchs, and knowing what she did with his wife made her feel uncomfortable being in his presence.

"How is Bellegere," Brynden demanded. "What do the maesters say?"

"She is receiving treatment now. She... is doing just fine."

Piercing blue eyes narrowed.

"Do not lie to me, your grace. I don't need coddling."

Daenerys frowned, not expecting such a stern tone from the demure man. She'd only meant to keep him from worrying in his compromised state.

"Her grace is suffering a fever."

Brynden exhaled sharply, not enjoying that news at all. He glanced down at his wounds and began trying to stand.

"You must remain abed," Daenerys said adamantly. "You will open your sutures, and then you will be the one burning from within."

"You are only here for Belle, not for me. I understand that, but don't get in the way of me going to my sick wife."

Just as he began to stand, he grunted and fell back onto the bed. A crimson stain began to grow on the fresh linens covering his wounds.

Daenerys stared at it worriedly.

"I will call the guards if you continue to harm yourself."

"Belle took more arrows than most men could survive for me. Do you think I wouldn't fight your guards to the death to be by her side? Think clearly, your grace."

Daenerys opened her mouth to speak, but he continued.

"I know you're in love with Bellegere and I know she loves you. Stopping me from injuring myself is your way of showing that love for her, and because Belle is the other half of my soul, I appreciate that," Brynden said, staring directly into her eyes.

"However, your heart has blinded you to the simple fact that while I still live and breathe, I will be at her side through sickness and health. Just as I promised her the night she chose me to be her husband."

Daenerys fought to keep her face neutral as she realized that he knew. He had known for some time what was happening between them.

"With all due respect, move aside."

Thoroughly stunned and defeated, Daenerys Targaryen left the room, but only to order the guards to help Brynden Blackwood return to his rightful place.

In the embrace of his very ill wife.

Only then could he stop fighting the milk of the poppy and let his body heal. Only then could he sleep.

It was a torturous scene to watch, but Daenerys could not look away or leave.

As the maesters fussed and pleaded with her to make the king consort obey their commands, she watched her guards maneuver Brynden into his wife's bed.

In the process, Bellegere awakened to find the source of all her worry beside her. The relief that washed over her face almost brought Daenerys to tears.

Only then could she walk away knowing that she'd done the right thing.

For Bellegere.

"You're very warm," Brynden whispered, his bottom lip quivering. Memories of his mother in this same position came to mind.

"But you're going to be just fine. I know it."

Bellegere was forced to lie on her stomach to allow the wounds on her back to remain unbothered, but her head was turned to the left so she could see him.

"You should have remained abed and allowed me to come to you, but I can't truly complain. I've been worried sick."

Brynden pursed his lips, but the joke found its way out regardless.

"You took it too far, don't you think?"

His wife laughed harder than he expected and he immediately regretted it. Because her laughter never failed to make him convulse as well.

Maester Luwin and a gaggle of handmaids gathered around them trying to make them stop which only caused it to worsen.

"Your grace, may I see your sutchers? I need to ensure you didn't open them with your rebellious behavior and sudden mirth," Luwin said in a scolding tone.

Brynden kept his hand firmly placed over his wounds so that the maester could not see the growing bloodstain.

He knew that they had opened. He'd felt the horrendous tearing, but was loathe to ruin this beautiful moment with his wife.

"The guards helped me through the entire journey. I am in the same state you left me in."

Luwin began to protest.

"Brynden says he is fine," Bellegere said softly. "Go rest, Maester Luwin. Thank you for your service. I can never repay you for saving my king."

Warmed by his surrogate daughter's deep gratitude, Luwin left the room with the handmaids allowing them a moment alone.

"Why, beloved?"

Bellegere could hear the anger, love, and helplessness in his voice. His head was turned so that she could not see, but she knew that he was weeping.

"I would do it again," she said firmly, emphasizing every word.

"Gods strike me down if I should lie, I would travel back in time and die atop you as long as you lived on. When I thought I had lost you, I... I went mad with rage. I cursed the gods for trying to take you away from me and our children."

He turned to her, and his soft, cobalt eyes were red and puffy, spilling over with oceans of tears.

They reminded her of the blue waters of Braavos. They asked her why. They dared to question her devotion.

"Before I was a queen or a mother, I was your wife. After I became your wife, you became my greatest friend," Bellegere said, smiling softly.

"You have only ever shown me the purest of love, and I have tried my best to give you the same. What is sacrifice, if not the greatest act of love?"

Brynden grabbed her hand and placed a lingering kiss to her palm. He whispered quietly, tickling her skin.

"I would rather go with you than to watch you leave. What is the purpose of going on if your home is no longer in this plane of existence?"

"Our children need their father."

"Their father needs you," Brynden said. "I need you here, Bellegere."

She was quiet for a long moment, looking into the eyes of her husband and seeing his love on full display.

With a heavy heart, she divulged a sensitive piece of information that she had only just found out.

"The maesters say I am pregnant, Brynden. They believe I have been since we last lie together."

The shock and excitement on his handsome face filled her heart with warmth. It was almost enough to overshadow the fear.

"But you drank moon tea."

"I know. It didn't work.""How do we know the babe... survived the battle?"Bellegere closed her eye tightly."We can only wait and pray."He could see the anxiety in her expression, so he pressed a kiss to every wrinkle in her forehead."This may sound selfish," Brynden said softly. "And I know having another child frightens you, but I can not lie. I am eternally grateful to be blessed with another child.""You've no need to justify yourself. I understand. Any child of ours is a blessing from the gods that shall be cherished.""Have you told Daenerys," Brynden asked hesitantly. She shook her head but didn't speak. "You both love each other. I'm sure she would be happy for you."

"Perhaps, but I doubt she would let me leave in the state I'm in without making a fuss," Bellegere whispered, looking anywhere but his eyes.

"Gods, I will miss Daenerys. Painfully so. But Starks do not fare well so far south, and I almost lost you. I just want to go home. Back to our family and our children to rest and recover before we must go to war again."

He was silent for a long moment.

"I understand. Sleep now, beloved."

Brynden understood what his wife was saying without her saying it. He could see it in her steel gray eye.

No matter how much Bellegere would have wanted to stay here and savor every moment with Daenerys before venturing back north, nearly losing him had changed everything.

Where once her heart was opened to Daenerys, it was swiftly closing at no fault of her own.

There was nothing Brynden could do to change his wife's mind. He only hoped that Daenerys could cope with it.

When Daenerys ventured into Bellegere's room days later, her handmaids were busy packing what little belongings she'd brought with her.

"What is the meaning of this?"

"I am leaving soon, your grace."

Daenerys turned around to find Bellegere sitting in the farthest corner. She was hunched over in an awkward position due to the injuries she sustained.

"You can't leave yet. You're still ill," Daenerys said, trying to keep herself under control. "You must also attend my coronation."

"Your coronation is in two day's time. My king and I will be there to support you and celebrate the beginning of your reign. After that, we are leaving."

There was something different about Bellegere. Her tone was too sharp. Her gaze was less focused. She barely even looked at her.

Daenerys dismissed the handmaids, ignoring the scowl on Bellegere's face.

Once they were alone, she crossed the room and stood in front of her lover.

"Why must you leave so swiftly? You're in no shape to travel. I shouldn't have to mention that we won't see one another for gods know how long."

Bellegere looked away and chose her words wisely.

"You have your duties, and I have mine," she said simply. "We knew this would happen, and yet we continued forth. Now, we must deal with the consequences."

"Look at me, Bellegere."

She refused for as long as she could, but when Daenerys beckoned once more, she conceded.

The look of utter heartbreak on her face caused a fissure to form in Bellegere's heart.

"Are you a queen or a coward? Do not dishonor your title by omitting the truth."

Bellegere closed her eye, shaking her head as if fighting the urge to say what was on her mind.

In the end, she was not a coward.

"My husband almost died."

Daenerys covered her face with her hands. She wanted to scream in frustration and bitterness.

"So did you."

"I care for you very much, Daenerys, but I have responsibilities that I must focus on. My husband and my family come before all else. I must give all my attention to them going forth," Bellegere said bluntly.

"What happened between us was not a mistake or a folly. It was pure and beautiful, and it made me feel something I hadn't felt for a long time, but we both knew that it would expire one day."

Speechless and holding back an ocean of tears, Daenerys could only stand rigid and listen to the beginning of the end.

She didn't know what exactly was ending, but she knew that it was ending before it ever truly had a chance to blossom.

That hurt more than anything.

What could have been.

"I only hope that we can remain amicable and not hate one another over something we knew was ill-fated."

Daenerys did not agree.

To her, their relationship was not destined to end. No matter how far apart they were or for however long.

If they both wanted it, they could have made it work.

"I love you, Bellegere," Daenerys whispered, allowing a tear to fall.

"Nothing could change that."

Bellegere closed her eye tightly and shook her head, trying to keep her composure.

"Thank you for understanding, Dany. And... for sharing yourself with me. I will never forget."

When Bellegere gently kissed her hand in parting, Daenerys felt the burn of it all the way to her bedchamber and even in her sleep.

For, Bellegere had loved her for the last time.

On the day of Daenerys' coronation, she was crowned and named the Rightful Queen of the Six Kingdoms.

The crown she wore had been her father's and her grandsire's before him.

The throne she sat upon was made by her forefather, Aegon the Conquerer, and was occupied by more of her ancestors than any other.

How ironic it was that the throne that resided within her heart had been usurped by a Stark woman as cold as the northern winds beyond the wall.

A woman who could not stand on her own and burned with fever but smiled and cheered louder than any other as she was crowned queen.

The next day, when Bellegere Stark and her army prepared to march back north, they exchanged formal goodbyes.

Only a few could see the turmoil beneath their pleasantries. The longing in Daenerys' eyes and the resolve in Bellegere's.

In the shadows, a spider lurked, preparing to weave its web in the midst of the realms' newfound chaotic peace.