You Are The One

Chapter 1:

Never Thought You'd Make Me Perspire

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Author's Notes:

Credits:

Every chapter title are song lyrics by Placebo.

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On those brief nights they were together, Jon did more than just roll around in the sheets with the woman who turned out to be her Gods damned fucking aunt. They had talked. So much so, besides Robb—and maybe Ygritte—that Jon found herself being sucked right into the fact that she could just talk to someone who didn't look down on her. Or worse, look up to her.

Among all of the horrors about their lives that they shared with one another, after the chaos finds a calm patch and everything is done and can't be taken back, Jon could only remember one thing that Dani had told her. And as Jon sat just feet from the Iron Throne with Dani's lifeless body in her arms, all the could think about was walking into the fire, just like Dani did.

But where Dani had produced a miracle and not only hadn't burned but hatched her three dragon eggs after walking into the funeral pyre of her first husband—Jon wishes to destroy everything herself by walking into Drogon's angry spitfire of rage and heartbreak.

She wonders why he didn't kill her for killing his mother. Jon even stares into his eyes after he's melted down the Throne in a rage of despair. Wills him to come over and burn her, too. Melt her down to nothing, just like the Throne that then sat in front of her, dripping down the stone steps.

But the dragon only gives a soft whimper. And Jon is numb to her core as she simply sits back and watches Drogon gently wrap his tail around Dani's waist.

And then, as she watched him fly up and out of view, Jon just sat there and waited. For what exactly, she didn't know.

She sure didn't expect not to be punished.

Among other things...

"I can't." Brann shakes his head, making her heart drop slowly when he turns a small knowing smile on her. Because that's what he does now; he knows everything.

"Of course you can." Tyrion says, somehow looking more worse for wear than Jon. His eyes flicker briefly to her, pursing his lips in determination. He hasn't forgotten how to play people. And people tend to want things more if you tell them they can't have said things. "You said it yourself—you, and only you, know of everything that has happened, will happen, and is happening right now. Surely, that makes you the perfect candidate."

"That is exactly why it doesn't." Brann adds with a tiny smirk, almost condescending looking if he were actually to be bothered.

Tyrion fights his own smirk, but he lets the potential boy king who knows all things see the twinkle of amusement and knowing in his own gaze. He tilts his head very slightly when Brann arcs a brow to Tyrion's left.

Exactly where Jon is standing with a small scowl glaring down at her boots.

Before anybody can open their mouth, Grey Worm takes a step forward, breaking the mini formation he, Tyrion and Jon hold before the small dais holding the head of the court. He turns his head and doesn't take his glare off of Jon as he says, "If the following words any of you speak are to put this murderer on your fucking throne, I will kill her myself."

At this, Jon finally snaps her head up. She glares back at him, and with force behind her words, she points at him and states in a dangerously low tone, "Oh? Is this coming from a man I saw order himself and his men to start stabbing and slitting the throats of innocent people? Children?!" The words to tell him to go fuck himself are on the tip of her tongue, but she bites them down.

Brann smiles fully at last, the most real emotion Sansa and Arya and Jon have seen on him since they've all been reunited. He looks at Jon and says, "That is exactly why it should be you, Aegonyra."

Jon's nose wrinkles, her cheeks turning slightly pink with embarrassment. "'Jon' is fine, Brann."

"Another reason it should be you. You, Jon, who is brave, like The Warrior. Who is just, like The Father. Who defends the innocents, like The Mother." Brann stares into her eyes, tone vacant, but every word meant with the utmost conviction. "Jon Snow, she who defeated Death. She who is the body of ice filled with the veins of fire. It's you, Aegonyra. You are the heir to the Iron Throne. Whether you like it or not, which you don't, and that is just another reason it should be you."

Grey Worm says through gritted teeth, "My people will not like this."

"Your people are few." Sansa says, voice calm and posture regal as she stares over at the man. His eyes lock with hers and narrow, but she doesn't so much as flinch. She's been through far worse men than this one. She smiles sweetly and says, "I assure you, that was not a threat. Just a helpful reminder."

Jon has to fight back a small amused smile.

It doesn't work. Grey Worm now looks like he wants to murder her.

"Might I add," Tyrion cuts in warily, glancing between every person present as he reminds them, "The Dothraki now technically belong to Jon here." He motions his hands to his right side at her. "Well, what's left of them. Which is just a little over two hundred. That's not a lot, but each one does fight like ten of the average man in terms of strength and brutality."

"They won't do anything." Jon cuts in, giving the short-ass bastard a shut the fuck up look before turning a small and rather pathetic smile to the council. Mainly Brann as she pleads for his help with, "They won't, will they?"

Brann gives a confirming nod as he says, "You have killed the greatest leader they have ever known and you have survived her dragon's wrath. The Dothraki are yours, completely."

Thank fuck, Jon thinks, hopefully they'll stay right the fuck where she told them to until further instruction. She breathes out a sigh, nods and says, "My watch ended because I was murdered for trying to help outsiders simply survive the winter, Brann." She blows out another breath, shakes her head and says, "And even if the Throne was mine to begin with, I still killed to make it vacant again. I don't deserve it." She glances around and is actually relieved to see a few looks of agreement.

Though, Sansa doesn't look pleased. What more does she want? Fuck sake, she's already named herself Queen of the fucking North as an entirety. Oh, the Wildlings will be pleased.

That would make Jon want to laugh if she wasn't actually making a mental note to check in with her sister every so often just to make sure she's safe. As with all power shifts, whether they're good or bad, it doesn't matter, someone will always try to swoop in a grab it for themselves or just try to destroy it altogether.

Gods, Jon just wishes, above all else, to go hide somewhere for a few years—like maybe that cave she and Ygritte found or possibly even the pretty meadow she and Robb used to sneak off to, if it's even still there after all these years—and either curl up and sleep forever or just die already. For good, this time.

What else is left for her?

That's exactly what she's thinking now, just days later after that meeting in the old dragon pits.

Well, other than the resounding question her brain is asking her.

Which is: what the fuck are you doing?!

"...wisdom."

The very hilariously mocking word from the Grand Sept brings Jon back to reality just as he is pressing his thumb of doused Holy Water onto her forehead. He backs away and she blows out a shaky breath, but otherwise, she keeps her head held high.

Even though she doesn't even have to really. The faces staring back up at her are all in awe. And she maybe gets it. Maybe it's weird having a Targaryen back on the Throne. Even if she isn't the usual incestuous full on blood of the dragon. The people who have come to witness her take what's left of the melted down throne—Tyrion assures her it's already being remade for her and she doesn't really care enough to ask about the details of just how that will happen—and of their own volition. Jon made it very clear to "her people" here in the half crumbled and burnt down palace that the people these idiots want her to rule see that they have a choice in all things from now on. That they truly are free.

Maybe that's why the looks of awe. Or maybe it's just the usual talk. They must know by now of what she's done. Killing Dani, yes. But she's also still getting over the fact that she rode a fucking dragon. Maybe they know that, too. Talk travels fast and there are eyes and ears everywhere.

Not even the Dothraki that line the walls all over the palace now seem to be enough to scare the people away. If anything, they flock and huddle closer, trying to get a good enough look at their new Sovereign. Maybe they're just trying to see if a dragon will appear from the shadows behind her.

Now, that would be a coronation to remember.

Jon manages a small smile and with that smile she stretches it to meet her eyes sets her eyes on her people as the Grand Sept walks over and begins his overly dramatic speech.

"The Crown of The Conqueror, passed down through generations..."

Jon blocks out his words and keeps her sincere gaze focused on her people and as the Grand Sept stands before her, she then kneels before him and bows her head to her people as much as she does to the one placing the crown on her head.

The Grand Sept lifts the crown up to show off to the people before turning towards Jon. "Let The Seven bear witness," He places the crown carefully on top of his Queen's head, takes a step back and grins brightly with pride as he bellows out, "Aegonyra Targaryen, is the true heir to the Iron Throne!"

Jon takes a deep breath before rising to stand and fully facing her people. There's a slightly awkward moment where she gives a sheepish smile into deadly silence...that then suddenly erupts into cheers and applause—and is that a few people she sees crying with joy?

OK, so, it's possible someone really did see her come back from the beyond again just two nights ago...

Possible...

Well, fuck, seems like she's right when the first wave begin to fall to their knees and bow their heads.

"They think you're a god. Reincarnated, of course." Tyrion smirks, mumbling the word just so she can hear when he comes up to her to hand her her sword. "I'm not sure which. It shall be fun trying to figure out."

Jon rolls her eyes, faint smile flashing over her lips. She grips her sword tight and raises it above her head in a silent vow to protect her new queendom.

Finally, the Grand Sept places a hand over his heart as he introduces his new Queen, "All hail, Queen Aegonyra Targaryen, the First of Her Name, High Lady to Dragonstone, Shield of Her People, Protector of the Realm, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Queen of All of Westeros!"