Chapter 62: Aegon the Uncrowned

"Shields, men!" Locking them into place, Nymeria braced as the Reachmen to her front slammed into the line. "Hold! Hold!" Stabbing forward with her sword, the man-at-arms in front of her groaned in pain. His armor giving way to the Valyrian steel scimitar that cleaved through it like a knife through butter. She shoved her shield forward, toppling him.

Front line bloodied, she whistled. "Second line, to the front! Front to the rear!"

The Dornishmen whooped, a storm of arrows and crossbows joining the thrust of the long spears as the shield wall broke. Scores of men striding forward in coordination while Nymeria and her battered fighters drew back. A fresh wave of Dornishmen now interlocked their shields, facing against the Targaryens and pushing them back.

Grabbing a gourd from one of her bodyguards, Nymeria was serenaded by the furious trumpet of the elite elephants nearby. They had been a gift from the gods, smashing through whatever the Targaryens sent their way. The cries of men followed the trumpets, and Nymeria felt just a bit of pity for the poor fucks in their way. "How are the casualties?" she demanded of Lord Santagar.

"Heavy, my Lady," he replied. "But our forces are still disciplined and theirs are buckling. You should send in the final reserves."

"No, hold them." She gritted her teeth. "Something's amiss…"

Suddenly, a roar pierced the din, followed by a whooshing heat. "Down!" Santagar tackled her to the ground just as the frontline evaporated in a massive tongue of flame. Dreamfyre, her violet scales distinct, shot by with another roar. A piercing one that was followed by a scream.

Gods, what Nymeria would give to never hear an elephant scream again.

The lumbering beasts, once a gift from the gods, were now a curse as they simply broke in terror. Anything in their way was stampeded, gored, or shoved aside This time it was the Dornish themselves, victims of the elephants' terror as even their handlers couldn't calm them - bolting for the stream and safety against this demon from the skies.

Springing to her feet, Nymeria saw the line broken in places. Tarlys rushing through with bloodlust against their former tormentors. "Reserves! Forward!" she ordered, Santagar rushing to take command of the light infantry and cavalry she had wisely kept for an emergency. "All forces fall back! Fall back!" This was a disaster, and she would not have her men routed.

A hail of arrows rained from the Tarly side, and while Nymeria hurled up her shield arm to block it, a flash of steel to her left caused her to leap back… just as a scimitar swiped where her neck was.

"What are you fucking doing?!" she demanded of her two bodyguards, suddenly set upon her. She tried to grab her sword but it had tumbled to the ground, unable to protect her as the first raised his sword to strike her down…

Only for a Tarly arrow to punch right through his temple and fell him. The other paused, stunned, giving Nymeria a chance to grab her Valyrian steel. Her bodyguard - now assassin - finally tried to strike, but she parried and beheaded him just as Santagar returned with the horsemen to stabilize the line…

Horse bucking as she rode, Nymeria Sand kept her eyes guarded underneath the wide brim of her hat. Not feminine in the slightest, but she was a female warrior in armor and a sword strapped to her hip. She'd long ago come to terms with the fact that it would be her nude, desirable body that would shut up those fools that considered her more a man than a woman.

Victor Velaryon certainly knew I was a woman.

It may have been quite distracting to think of a past lover - a past lover likely fighting with the Targaryens - but to be honest Nymeria was grateful for the distraction as she and her army marched for Vulture's Roost. In the heat of the massive defeat at Tumbleton and the scattering of the once great combined army of the Faith, one third each to her, Manfred Hightower, and Doggett, the confusing situation of her two bodyguards trying to kill her was lost. Once they had made it across the Boneway and to safety did Nymeria have time to ponder it.

Most thought it was the Targaryens. Nymeria wasn't so sure. Both were devout, and without much Rhoynish blood. Hugor perhaps, or her rivals in the command structure thinking Santagar would be easier to control. Perhaps even her cousin, eliminating a rival. Such an underhanded tactic would be something he would do.

Regardless, relief filled her as she spotted Vulture's Roost. A former ruin, Wyl had restored it as a camp for the army as it awaited orders to march across the Boneway to join the Holy Dominion in their war against the Targaryens. Even with that a disaster, it served its purpose and Nymeria had ravens sent to ensure there was plenty of supplies and shelter for her men to rest. They'd need it and earned it.

"My Lady, rider approaching."

Nymeria's brow rose as a rider with the sigil of house Dayne on his surcoat. "From Lady Clarisse for you, Lady Sand." He handed over a dispatch.

"Clarisse?" While her heart leapt at the thought of seeing her lover - her favorite alongside Victor Velaryon - her presence at Vulture's Roost of all places was… concerning.

Of all that she could think of, none of it boded well.

Nevertheless, when the two women spotted each other, nothing could stop them from embracing tightly. Since they were alone, a hungry kiss followed. "Nym," Clarisse murmured as the Martell bastard kissed her neck. "Your armor and sword… makes me wet."

"Mmmmm hmmm…" Best thing after any battle, but it could wait. "Why are you here?"

"Not just me, so is Myriah."

"Myriah," breathed Nym, her heart bursting with love for her beautiful daughter. "I need to see her."

"Soon." Clarisse sighed. "I heard about the attempt."

Nym blinked. "How? The dispatches never reported it."

"So it did happen?" Her eyes widened. "What did they try? Poison?"

"No, attacked me in the middle of the rout."

A nod. "Simpler, I suppose, and easier to cover tracks of." Clarisse sat down. "There's a lot you need to know, and it also has something to do with the father of your daughter." Now Clarisse had Nymeria's attention.


Greywater Watch was its own little world. No one knew exactly who built it, legends being either one of the Warg Kings trying to protect his followers from the advance of the Kings of Winter to the north and the Kings of House Mudd from the south, or one of the bannermen of the last Warg King seeking protection for the defeated supporters of their dead ruler - his only daughter forced to marry the reigning Stark King. Either case, the floating keep served as a refuge. No one could find it, let alone besiege it, the castle constantly moving through the murky swamps shrouded in fog.

Growing up, Arya always felt safe here. Safe and shrouded from the entire world. Nothing mattered, what King ruled or what war was where. House Reed paid its taxes to the Starks, then to the Targaryens while providing soldiers to the Starks when called upon, but little else. A blissful existence.

With the veiled moonlight still casting the swamp in an eerie glow, Arya wrapped her arms close over her companion. Snuggling closer to his warm body. "I wish it was just this. This only," she cooed.

Jaehaerys Targaryen, long the name of her existence, kissed her forehead. Making her heart skip a beat. Her tired body relaxing into a limp contentment. "And what do you mean by that?"

She shifted her body, sweat from their recent exertions making their pale skin both sticky and slippery. Half-stop his chest and half cuddled to his side as she parted her messy hair. Arya gazing at him with love. "It's peaceful here, no one to bother us. We could stay here forever."

"That has its merits." Staring at Jaehaerys, Arya reflected on just what he was to her, how much she loved him… how it both snuck up on her without knowing and was a deep secret for the longest time. "What's on your mind now?"

Blinking, Arya blushed, then smirked. "Just about how infuriating you were when we first met."

His one good eye peered at her - until he nodded. "Aye, I was a right arse."

"In both senses." She pinched his muscular rear, earning a swat on hers. Arya giggled. "As much as you drove me mad, I think I wanted you from the beginning."

"You did?"

"Most definitely." It felt so freeing not to have to hide her feelings anymore. "I was fascinated by you whenever Aly brought us together… and once I flowered I realized just how beautiful you are. Then I admitted I desired you, romantically and physically."

He sighed and fell back against the pillow. "Well, if I was beautiful then I'm not anymore."

"Don't say that."

Jae merely pointed to his eye. "Both a mark of shame and makes me hideous."

Biting her lip, Arya crawled up his body and kissed Jae's lips. "You are beautiful." She then kissed his eyepatch, hearing his breath hitch. "Strong and brave."

"Arry…" they shared no words after that, their loving kisses taking a natural course.

Soon after their second shared peak, Arya's mighty dragon had passed into the land of slumber. Slipping out of the bed, she winced at the soreness between her legs as she donned her tunic and trousers - unable not to grin. She was sore, but deliciously sore. When this is over, I will take him to wed in the godswood. That had been her dream, and it was so close to reality.

But she couldn't be seen in his bed as a lover just yet - her parents would have a fit. "Sleep tight, my love." Arya kissed his cheek, then stroked the scales of the sleeping Vermithor, also serene in sleep. Her love for Jae extended to his dragon.

Opening and then shutting the door without a sound, she crept to her chambers. Arya had grown up in Greywater Watch and knew just how to slip through it without making a single sound. It worked, and she let out a sigh of relief as she closed the door of her chambers.

"Out late somewhere?"

Arya jumped out of her skin at the soft, yet unexpected voice. The hearth was crackling, illuminating the equally pale, otherworldly Valyrian beauty of Alysanne. She sat cross-legged on the bed with a severe stare in her eyes. Straightening herself, Arya gave a slight smile. "Just went out for a walk. Wanna read a story before bed?" It wasn't the first time Aly snuck into her bed to read or just talk and giggle together. In truth Arya enjoyed that almost as much as her trysts with Jae.

But Alysanne shook her head, narrowing her eyes. "You may have been exercising, but it wasn't by walking." She rose. "I know you were with Jae."

A sigh. "How?"

"I heard you the other night." Arya winced. This wasn't what she wanted, and why she made sure to keep her relationship with Jaehaerys a secret. She closed her eyes, bracing herself from the certain charges that she wasn't worthy for Jae, and that she seduced him in a vulnerable time. But what Aly did end up saying… "How could you steal him away from me?"

Arya's eyes shot open. "What?"

Alysanne strode forward, jabbing her finger between Arya's breasts. "He's mine. I love him. Find your own boytoy since Jae belongs to me."

Possessiveness surged through Arya, but it was but a moment. She forced it down, knowing that Jae was a Targaryen - he could have her and someone else as well, and Arya wasn't averse to sharing with Aly.

What was truly shocking was that Aly had feelings for him. "You love him?"

"Since I was young, and I know he and I are meant to be together." Her normally sweet violet eyes were filled with rage.

Rage that Arya shot dead. "I love him too."

It was Alysanne's turn to be shocked. "You… love him too? This isn't some lustful conquest?"

Now she was annoyed. "Do you think so little of me?" Alysanne hung her head, slightly shameful. Arya sighed and embraced her friend. "I didn't know you loved him too."

"How could anyone not love him?" Alysanne murmured almost inaudibly.

Arya heard. "I can't understand it either."

"I can't give him up… I can't."

"Neither can I, but I don't think either of us has to." She met Aly's gaze. "Come, let's talk about this." Arya grabbed Aly's hand, weaving her fingers through hers and leading her to the bed. To her joy, Aly didn't pull away.


A rapping on the side of the wheelhouse woke Alys from her nap. A restless nap - the gods be praised that her stomach wasn't as bad as the day previous, the convoy forced to stop three times for her to void her stomach, but that didn't mean her body was anything but fatigued. Be it from the trip, the babe in her womb, or both.

But her husband sticking his head through the window of the wheelhouse made it all better. "We're here, my love."

Alys let out a sigh of relief. "Thank the gods." She shared a tired smile with Aegon, himself quite dashing in his armor and hair let down before he rode off.

Finally a warm bed and even warmer bath. The prospect was amazing to her.

Their escape had been the most harrowing experience of her life. Tyrion hadn't been distracted for long, quickly finding out of their escape and dispatching horsemen after their party. Aegon's bruising pace had given them enough of a head start to nearly make it to the Golden Tooth before the Westermen caught up with them. Then, they were forced to turn and fight much like prior to Castamere. Alys had been sure they'd be wiped out.

A roar echoed from the skies just as she rubbed the still slight but growing swell of her belly. "Quicksilver… thank you." As the Lannisters had begun to push them back into the hills, down swept the dragon of her goodfather, the late King. Dragonfire proved decisive, sending Tyrion's men to flight and anyone that may have impeded their progress to simply leave them alone.

Are you here to bond with Aegon? Or just here to protect us? Questions that truly ate at Alys, worried greatly, but Aegon kept them moving and while growing close to the dragon whenever they pitched camp - he made no move to mount him and didn't speak of it. Alys didn't ask and he didn't speak with her on it. She suspected it was worry of his own prowess, or perhaps he still mourned his father.

Seeing Harrenhal approach in the distance as a large troop of horsemen with the Qoherys colors riding to escort them to the gate, Alys was sure the questions would be answered sooner rather than later.

In Harrenhal were his mother and brother, after all.

The wheelhouse slowly came to a stop after they passed through the gates. Alys had just about made herself presentable when Aegon appeared, opening the door himself. Some noblemen were vain about that, but he did it for her himself. She gave him a glittering smile in return. "Thank you, husband."

Aegon smiled back, taking his hand and helping her out.

Harrenhal was much as she remembered it, if a little more disheveled - subtle signs there had been a battle, though the Qoherys bannermen had largely cleaned it up. They were out in force to greet them, rows of armored men centered around both Lord Daeron and Ser Gargon. Right next to them were Queen Alyssa and Prince Viserys, Lord Rogar Baratheon, and… her father. He smiled at her, and she smiled back.

What are you thinking about, father? Alys had learned never to accept affection from him at face value. There was always an angle.

None were visible when Alyssa and her husband met, the Queen throwing her arms around him and peppering him with kisses. "My son, you are well." Tears fell from her eyes.

"I am well, muna. As is Alys." He drew her close, hand on her belly. "And the newest Targaryen."

Alyssa's jaw dropped before she embraced Alys, a beaming smile on her face. "Gods be praised! Even in this trying time there is light." Alys couldn't help but smile herself - it felt like one of her own mother's hugs. "Come, let us go inside and speak and eat. You must be famished."

"I could eat," mused Alys, drawing laughs. As they made their way in, she noticed her father motioning to her. "If I may, husband. I would like a word with my father."

Engrossed with his mother, Aegon nodded at her. "Go ahead, my love. Just don't take too long." His expression was warm and she loved it.

"Alys, my dear." Her father swept her in a hug, then kissed her cheeks. "You have done wonderfully," he murmured into her ear as he placed a hand on her tiny bump.

Of course. "Thank you, father." Lucas Harroway was pleased - she was with a Targaryen child, a potential future dragonrider. If a boy, he'd be in line for the throne after Prince Daemon. "I am very happy."

"You should be." They walked behind the rest of the procession towards the Hall of a Hundred Hearts. Lord Lucas pointed above. "Quicksilver - your husband has been a late bloomer."

"Like his uncle."

"Yes." Her father frowned. "Like Maegor." There was a pregnant pause. "Rhaenys left for the Twins prior to the arrival of Lord Baratheon, and that is good for we can talk with some candor without being listened to."

She blinked. "What do you mean?"

A smile. "Being with child and your husband being a dragonrider opens… opportunities for us to correct the wrong of your goodsister and Maegor being crowned over your husband."

"What?" Her eyes widened. "You can't mean…"

"I do not think it would take much to convince Aegon, or his mother. Lord Rogar will handle her." Head spinning, her eyes focused on her goodmother. She was talking to Aegon, listening to Aegon, but her gaze seemed to fritter occasionally to Lord Rogar Baratheon. The same looks Alys gave her husband. Are they lovers? Rogar was nothing like Aenys, though he did bear a bit of resemblance to Maegor albeit dark of hair. What was happening. "You must convince Aegon when we approach him. Tonight."

Tonight… Gods, what was her father walking Alys into?


"What you're asking of me is treason!"

"It is not treason, your Grace," Lord Lucas argued. "You are the true heir under all law and tradition…"

"Not Valyrian tradition."

"We're not in Valyria," Rogar Baratheon explained. "No one would've accepted Rhaena and Maegor had they not been in the right place at the right time. You were trapped in Castamere, isolated from everyone."

Lucas nodded his head. "Alys is with child, and you have proven yourself in battle. Once you claim Quicksilver then dozens of Lords will flock to your banner, I guarantee it."

"I will swear to you, your Grace," Daeron Qoherys offered. "As will all the houses of the southern Riverlands."

"As will the Stormlands." Rogar drew a sword and knelt.

It rocked Aegon, the concern written all over his face. But was there a flicker of something? Ambition, pride? A desire to be a good King, like his namesake? To continue the hopes of his supposed father but with a strong hand? "Quicksilver isn't my dragon to mount. He is that of my father."

Alyssa approached him. "I cannot ask you to make one choice or another… only to embrace the part of you that fought so strongly to resist your foes and protect your family. You were wronged, but only through your decisions can the right one be found." She didn't have to wait long before the fire emerged in his eyes. The hatchling becoming a dragon.

"My son… please be careful," Alyssa begged him, uncaring of those who saw her throw her arms around her strong son. "You might be a father and a King, but you're still the boy I held in my arms." Cradling his head with one hand while the other hugged his waist, she looked at Quicksilver over his shoulder. She could see the dragon had truly grown much larger since when Aenys first took her riding atop his back, about the size of Vhagar at their wedding.

A fine mount for her son, if the dragon found him worthy.

Aegon chuckled and kissed her forehead. Looking so much like his father - a sight that both made her joyous and melancholy. "Do not worry. All will be glorious.

She sighed, cupping his cheek. "You have your father's confidence." He beamed and made his way down the hill to Quicksilver, missing his mother's sad expression. I'm sorry you'll have to fight your own father and sister. The latter Aegon knew, making it tragic enough without the former.

All watched the young Prince approach the beast, some with eagerness, others stoically, while Alyssa felt her stomach knotting with fear. A gasp almost left her lips when Quicksilver moved in his sleep, her heart almost jumping out of her mouth. "Do not fret, my Queen." She turned to see Rogar Baratheon smiling at her, a hand on her shoulder. "He is a true dragon."

Alyssa could've had Rogar's hand cut off by the Kingsguards, but only smiled softly. His hand was… quite welcome. It calmed her, how strong yet gentle the touch was.

She looked back and the apprehension returned as the immense head of the silver dragon - about the same size as a grown horse, reared up and staring at Aegon with intense amber eyes. Alyssa wished to run to her son when Quicksilver opened his maw, showing off his teeth. But Aegon was no coward, merely taking a deep breath and raising out his palm. "I don't fear you, Quicksilver!" he proclaimed in High Valyrian. "I am the blood of Old Valyria, Aegon, son of Aenys your rider. You will accept my call!"

Bold to the point of arrogance… just like Maegor. From how Quicksilver cocked his head, it seemed to Alyssa that the dragon could tell just who Aegon's true kepa was. For a moment, she was sure she'd soil her smallclothes from fear. She almost fainted when Quicksilver snorted in Aegon's face.

"If he finds him unworthy, it is over," she murmured to herself.

"I hope not," Lord Lucas replied.

"He won't," Rogar said with confidence. Alyssa appreciated it - she needed someone to hold her up.

The dragon's possible hostility seemed to fade into a contemplative expression. Not reacting as Aegon cautiously walked towards him. Quicksilver lowered his head closer, gaze intense as if daring Aegon to treat him like a bonded dragon. Aegon did so, courageously extending his hand to touch his snout. Never breaking contact with her amber eye on the left side.

A breath Alyssa never knew she was holding left her as the boldness of her son was rewarded. Quicksilver snorted again and visibly relaxed, shaking her body of the last bits of sleep. With only a snap of his jaws, Quicksilver eased his shoulder down, inviting Aegon to mount him.

"It worked," she murmured, reaching down for Lord Rogar's hand, squeezing it.

Rogar grinned. "Aegon, Second of his Name." Not a shout, but enough for others to hear it - testing the waters, it seemed.

The waters were quite ready. "Long may he reign!" shouted Lucas Harroway.

"Long may he reign!" Daeron Qoherys joined in, and soon all the assembled were shouting it as Aegon settled atop Quicksilver's spines. No saddle, but he wasn't intending on any long ride. Alyssa burned with pride for him.

"Sōvegon, Quicksilver!" The young prince - no, the young King commanded with a scream. Quicksilver extended his immense wings and let out a roar capable of shaking the earth around him. With a single beat of his wings, the pair were airborne, ascending high to the clouds above Harrenhal as if chasing the moon.

A Velaryon though she was, her great-grandmother had been a Targaryen, and that diluted amount of fire sizzled in her blood as she watched her son ascend into the skies. Dragonfire streaking from Quicksilver's maw - his father had ridden the beast before, but finally a man worth of the Targaryen house words could cleanse the dragon. Use him for the true purpose.

Fire and blood.

Sensing Rogar behind her, Alyssa's shuddering body grew demanding. The feelings long suppressed - both during their sort of courtship and intimate moments, and also ever since Maegor had ended their torrid love affair decades before - they resurfaced in her zeal. Rogar was tall, was ruggedly handsome… he was strong and fierce and decisive. Everything Aenys wasn't and Maegor was, only in someone far better for her than the latter. He eyed her with desire, brow rising with an unasked question.

Her smoldering eyes replied for her.

Rogar and Alyssa stumbled into the Baratheon's guest chambers not an hour later, their lips locked in a heated embrace as they eagerly removed each other's clothing. Her blood was on fire and her body primed for the carnal dance, rocketing the slight Velaryon into a heated stalemate with the powerful Lord of Storm's End. The chamber was filled with the sound of their breathless moans, Alyssa tearing off one article of clothing for every one of hers Rogar ripped off of her. The rustling of fabric joined with lustful gasps in serenading the lustful exploration of each other's bodies with a fierce intensity.

Yes… yes… this was what she most missed.

The most wanton mewl left her throat when Rogar lifted Alyssa with ease, his muscles rippling beneath his taut skin as he lifted the Dowager Queen up by her arse and threw her onto the bed. She gave him a playful smirk, to which her new lover quickly climbed on top of her. "You're gonna scream my name all fuckin' night," he growled, biting her ear.

Cunt leaking uncontrollably, Alyssa shivered with anticipation as Rogar nipped down her neck, passionate but not gentle at all. She weaved her fingers through his curly black hair, desperate for more. "Do it," Alyssa begged. She'd been treated like a priceless gem too long in bed.

She wanted to be fucked and pounded and devoured. Craving Maegor for so long, she finally found someone who could give her what she truly wanted and Alyssa wasn't about to deny herself that gift.

"Gods, you're already so fucking wet." Rogar stabbed two fingers through her cunt. "You want my cock?"

Alyssa moaned and nodded, unable to form words as she was consumed by desire. Instead bucking her hips into his fingers. She cried in loss when he withdrew them, but Rogar made up for it when he positioned himself between Alyssa's legs and thrust inside of her to the hilt. Not bothering to wait, but eliciting a gasp from Alyssa's lips nonetheless.

She didn't want it gentle, arching her back as Rogar hit a particularly sensitive spot. "Fuck me, you bastard!" she demanded, locking her legs around his muscular hips. Rogar growled and began his pounding rhythm, grip on Alyssa's hips tightening as he speared deep inside her. A smug grin on his rugged face as he clearly reveled in the power she held over Alyssa.

It was that confidence and arrogance that made Maegor so good in bed, and it was no different with Rogar. Feelings of pleasure long since memories roared to the surface. Alyssa's moans grew louder Rogar split her open with his mighty cock, each thrust from the Stag sending waves of pleasure through her body. She clutched at the sheets beneath her, unable to control the intense sensations she was experiencing.

"You've wanted this," hissed the Stag into her ear, biting it again. He grabbed onto Alyssa's hips, using them as leverage to pound into her with even more force. "Yer' weak husband couldn't do it… but I am. Ye' needed this."

"Kessa!" she screamed. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed throughout the room as Rogar relentlessly fucked Alyssa, her nails digging into his back. Knowing the strong warrior could take it. Take whatever hurt she inflicted during their tryst. It was what she loved doing, and it had been denied her for so long.

"Yer' gonna explode fer' me, aren't you?"

Alyssa's moans grew louder and more desperate as Rogar hiked a leg over his shoulder and doubled his erratic thrusts. Making her mouth open in a soundless scream. "Please, fill me up," she begged.

Rogar groaned at the request, his cock twitching with each thrust. She leaned down, her breath hot against Alyssa's ear. "Do it. Do it you whore!"

That did it. Her walls clenched tightly around Rogar, spasming with tension and heat. Rogar slammed into her, bruising her hips and thighs - thrusting harder and deeper until the dam finally broke. Alyssa cried, juices gushing as her body grew taut. Above her he grunted, seed spurting from his cock and coating her insides.

Yes! Yes! Yes! Eyes screwed shut, Alyssa finally surrendered to the bliss she had long been denied.

Her mind imagining Maegor above her, only now the image was truly easy to behold.


"He definitely looks like Maegor," Ceryse mused, peering at the boy nestled in Rhaena's arms. "A bit leaner, more like Aegon the Conqueror honestly, but he'll be a ferocious dragon when he grows up."

Rhaena, cooing her growing son - he was getting to that phase where he tried to trundle everywhere but mostly ended up stumbling as he ran - earned a laugh in return. "Mu...na! Mu…na! Muna!" he cried out. "Up up up!"

The Queen laughed merrily. "We're hoping he's going to be his own man. Daemon Targaryen, rather than the second Conqueror." She peppered his cheeks with kisses, making Daemon giggle. "He loves riding on Dreamfyre though, just like his muna when she was young, right Daemon? Right my sweet hatchling?"

"Dwa… dwa… up up!"

Ceryse shook her head, stifling her own chuckle. "Yes, I remember you begging Dreamfyre to grow faster so you could ride her." Rhaena had been much older at the time, but still… the memory hammered home just how different their dynamics were.

Once she was Aunt Ceryse, the one who'd always sneak a little cookie when Alyssa was not looking or sewed her a womanly dress for a feast. Now they were Queens, wives to the King - seven hells, Rhaena was the actual reigning Queen and Ceryse as much a Queen consort as anything else. It was… quite the surreal experience.

Worth it to have Maegor in her life again. To be loved and cherished… and kissed and embraced… his mouth on her neck while he split her open so deliciously…

"Would you like to hold him?"

Blinking, Ceryse blushed as her prurient daydream was faced with the wholesome reality of a tiny babe, currently looking at her with twinkling violet eyes. Much like her mother, a look she mirrored. Even still… "I must decline." Ceryse sighed. "My history with children has been rather unfortunate."

Rhaena frowned. "Being secretly poisoned by your treasonous father doesn't affect your motherly instincts, now hold him." Her niece and wife thrust Daemon to her. "Think of it as practice for when our husband puts a child in you."

As if that would ever happen. Tyanna was starting to show and there was no doubt Rhaena would fall with child again once this war was over, but Ceryse had long since given up. Nevertheless, there was no denying her. Hesitantly, Ceryse picked up the Crown Prince in her arms, Daemon immediately falling silent. "I'm unsure of what he should call me?"

"Tyanna is muna to him, so I would like you to be his muna too." Rhaena reached out to stroke her upper arm. "You were always so sweet and loving to me. I want him to know the same."

Taking a deep breath, Ceryse looked into Daemon's eyes. "Hello, sweet boy… I suppose I'm your muna too."

He peered at her. "Mu… na? No, muna." Daemon pointed at Rhaena. "Bwack muna." He gestured out of the chambers.

At Ceryse's puzzled expression, Rhaena smiled. "Tyanna, she's 'black muna' cause of her hair."

"Ah." Ceryse looked back at Daemon. "I'm your muna too. Your…" She thought for a moment before settling on the color of her dress. "Green muna."

"Gw…een… muna?" Daemon blinked before swatting at Ceryse's nose with his palm, giggling. "Gween muna! Gween muna!"

"He loves you," beamed Rhaena, who still hadn't removed her hand from Ceryse's arm. Rubbing up and down the soft skin, as if enjoying it greatly. Ceryse didn't stop her, too engrossed in cooing the wee little boy. At least that was what she told herself.

Dinner was a… gentle affair. Jaehaerys was gone into hiding with his sister, while Rhaenys was at the Twins and Visenya still in Volantis, leaving just the core royal family. Herself, Maegor, Rhaena, and Tyanna. The tension after the executions had settled into an almost serene state of affairs, a lull in the fighting leading to important consolidation on behalf of the Targaryens. Ceryse herself had been welcomed both by the court and by the masses of King's Landing with exuberance, flowers and garlands thrown at her by the populace wherever she went.

Stark contrast to the propaganda that Oldtown spoke of, her being a paragon of virtue despised by the 'degenerates' that supported the dragons. Ceryse vowed to never set foot in Oldtown until the war was ended, otherwise she'd become a kinslayer.

Negativity aside, the royals were happy. Maegor entered the dining chamber and kissed her first, a kiss quickly deepened. He chatted with Rhaena and played with Daemon, the babe having joined them since he always made the four of them smile. Even Tyanna, the most aloof of the bunch, sat next to Ceryse - initiating a conversation that consumed most of the dinner.

Ceryse noticed how she'd constantly flicker her eyes at Maegor, the raven-haired beauty clearly enraptured by Ceryse's husband - their husband. It made Ceryse feel a little guilty, having relegated Rhaena and Tyanna to their own bed while she and Maegor… caught up. But when she brought it up to Tyanna, the enigmatic Queen only chuckled. "It is no worry, I shall bed him tonight." A lustful sigh. "I have missed him inside me."

"Tonight?" She couldn't help but sound very put out. "Will Rhaena join him as well?"

"I would rather her do, since them overwhelming me at the same time sets my cunt aflame." Ceryse blushed, the image… gods, was she aroused by that? "But no, Rhaena intends on sharing your bed tonight."

Her mind was already frittering about on different tangents, but this Ceryse heard loud and clear. Expelling all irrelevant thoughts. "She what?" Did she hear Tyanna correctly?

Tyanna smirked at her. "My marriage to Maegor only works cause I sleep with Rhaena too - and love her. That's the secret of the Valyrian multiple marriage, keeps the women from murdering each other out of jealousy."

"How… efficient." Ceryse knew the Conquerors had such an arrangement before Rhaenys' death, though by the time she married into the family only memories kept that alive. Ceryse never expected it to… "I'm not sure I could…"

"She won't force you, but she's coming." Tyanna smiled, a friendly one. "And you can't tell me you haven't felt something for her." Ceryse opened her mouth to retort, only to remember the hand on her arm. The twinkle in Rhaena's eye. Did her niece by marriage… desire her?

And had the comfort Ceryse felt been reciprocal desire?

"I'll take that as a yes." Tyanna looked towards Maegor and Rhaena, currently immersed in Daemon. Maegor tickling his son's stomach. "Never thought I'd ever love a man, but I'm glad I chose him. That he'll be the father of my babe."

Ceryse felt her heart melt. "Same."

"Rhaena too… she was and is my everything." Her eyes flickered to Ceryse. "She'll be that for you if you let her in."

Such were the words that echoed through her mind as she paced in her quarters. They had been the chambers she and Maegor shared while he was Hand of the King, and where they had shared the last weeks together in bliss. What would come tonight… mayhaps it would be bliss as well, or something far from it that would doom her happiness so soon after she found it again.

The door opened slowly, a silver-blonde head poking in. "Ceryse?"

Ceryse. Not Aunt Ceryse. It made the last shift in their relationship pretty clear… well, she was a Targaryen now. Aunt and niece weren't outside the realm of possibility. It made her blush a bit. "Come in."

Her niece… wife rather, was dressed in a nightgown. Something clearly meant to entice but perhaps not too much. She seemed hesitant too. "Tyanna told me you know why I'm here."

"She did."

"Are you alright with it?" Rhaena took her hand, nuzzling the palm. "Because I am."

That… helped perhaps. "Mayhaps we should lay on the bed." She was scrambling, hoping it would work.

Rhaena nodded, and soon they were on the bed, side by side and turned to face each other. Their eyes met. Gods, Ceryse felt overwhelmed. She had Rhaena laying down right next to her. Objectively one of the most beautiful women in the Realm. If she enjoyed the embrace of women, she should be overflowing with lust.

Or her nerves were getting the best of her.

"I'll go at your pace, Ceryse," Rhaena said, smiling slightly. "Or not at all if you wish. We can just talk."

Closing her eyes, Ceryse decided in that moment to take a chance. She leaned over. Her hand found Rhaena's cheek. "You are beautiful, Rhaena… I can't be sure if I'll feel anything, but just do what you'd do to Tyanna and I'll see…"

She hadn't finished her statement before Rhaena closed the gap quickly. The kiss was timid and new, but by the gods. Ceryse couldn't help but moan. It felt… good. More than good, actually. Their lips moved in time with one another, Ceryse letting her niece and now wife take the lead. Rhaena's lips were soft, tongue soft, everything soft compared to Maegor. Ceryse missed Maegor's might, but this was… amazing.

And she couldn't handle it.

"Wait," Ceryse said quietly. Rhaena simply stopped, pulling back and peering at the brunette, silently asking her if she's alright. "It feels good… why does it feel good?"

Rhaena smiled. "That's alright. I think… your desire is awakened." Ceryse trembled, biting her lip. "Do you want to stop?" Rhaena asked, giving them her an out.

Her eyes opened and she peered at Rhaena. Her silver hair and pretty face. Her slender body. Any man would kill to have one night with her - any woman as well, and what she was offering was a lifetime. Ceryse wanted that. "No." Olivia shakes her head. There was no more hesitation, the Queen knowing what she wanted. "I want this, Rhaena… but please go slow."

"Of course." Rhaena leaned in and kissed Ceryse tenderly, though there was an urgency about it. One that she reciprocated, their tongues dancing in unison as she moaned. Rhaena's hands explored Ceryse's body, gently tugging at the nightgown. Urging silently for Ceryse to remove hers.

Her own hands shook as she went for the sheer nightgown. Trembling as she ran her hands against the petite curves. Back arching as her niece squeezed her breasts, moaning and pushing them out into her touch.

"You're so beautiful," Rhaena whispered into Ceryse's ear.

Shuddering, there was the lust. There was the desire. Kissing her hard, the brunette wrapped her arms around Rhaena, pulling her close till their now bare chests were mashed together. "So are you," Ceryse murmured, guiding herself flat on the bed. Rhaena on top of her.