A/N: I couldn't resist posting just one last chapter to wrap this up! These two deserve a happy ending in every universe.
"This isn't right," maester Windu seethed from the far corner of the throne room, his eyes locked on the hanging Targaryen banners with disdain. "A realm ruled by a bastard... it defies the very gods." His dark gaze lingered on the mass of twisting, overlapping swords that formed along the steps up to the Iron Throne. Their new King sat among the jagged blades, unbothered by their lethal edges, as if their danger was inconsequential to him.
Obi-Wan Tulley watched, stroking his auburn beard thoughtfully. After the trials of war, perhaps the Iron Throne's sharp edges truly meant nothing to Anakin Targaryen. Most gathered here had expected to swear their allegiance to Sheev Targaryen on this day, not the man they had raised their banners against. Tension clung to the air like a storm cloud as Anakin claimed his place on the throne, his black armour still streaked with the dirt and blood of the battlefield. Obi-Wan supposed there had been time enough for the new King to change into something more appropriate, but this was clearly a statement.
He glanced down at his own armour, the red and blue scales were glinting after a quick cleaning by his squire, the silver badge of House Tully proudly across his chest. He, too, had come straight from battle, fresh from the last clash of blades. He understood the unspoken message: the war may be over, but Anakin's reign had only just begun.
It was easy to see who had stood with Anakin and who had opposed him. The traitor Houses who had fought for Sheev wore their finest garments, most having never stepped foot on the battlefields, relying on their armies to fight in their stead, though their faces betrayed their unease. Lavish gifts were piled near the dais—no doubt attempts to appease the new King. But would Anakin show mercy? That question lingered heavy in the air.
"King Plagueis chose Anakin as his heir," Obi-Wan shrugged. "Everything seems to have turned out as it was meant to."
Maester Windu shook his head, disgust curling his lips. "A bastard is an affront to the gods and to Westeros itself. Yet we're expected to kneel before him? What next? Shall the Small Council be filled with Plagueis' other dragon-seeds? Will those who opposed him lose their titles to Anakin's half-blood kin?"
"Now, now," Obi-Wan chuckled, attempting to diffuse the tension. "As far as I know, there's only one other—Ahsoka. She's of Valyrian blood, isn't she?"
Windu's furious gaze snapped to Obi-Wan. "The girl may have been raised on Driftmark, but she is no true Valyrian."
Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "She has Valyrian blood and they've claimed her as one of their own. Perhaps Anakin will legitimize her as well…"
"The Valyrians fought with Anakin, as did your House," Windu sneered, the venom in his voice unmistakable. "It makes me wonder what price your souls paid to support such filth."
"Careful," Obi-Wan's tone grew cold as his hand rested on the hilt of his sword. "Anakin is your King, whether you like it or not. The throne is his by right and by conquest. Make your peace with that or return to the Citadel, maester."
"That boy is no King!" Windu spat. "He's an oath breaker and a rapist! How the Hightowers can stomach what he's done to their family is beyond me."
Obi-Wan's jaw tightened. The lies spread by the Baratheons and their allies would cling to Anakin's reign like a shadow for years to come, no matter how many swore fealty. "I fought beside Anakin," Obi-Wan said calmly. "He denies those claims. The marriage was willing and the bedding was consensual. And I believe Ruwee Hightower can rest easily at night knowing his daughter, the Queen, will be well cared for."
"Of course, he'd say that, wouldn't he?" Windu chuckled darkly. "It's not as if the Lady's consent matters, anyway. They were both bound to others."
Rolling his eyes, Obi-Wan forced a smile. "Rush Baratheon rots in the black cells beneath our feet…Be careful unless you wish to join him. This is a day of peace, maester. Westeros is united under a new King. Let the past die with the war. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must find my wife."
With a respectful nod, Obi-Wan turned, his sharp blue eyes scanning the crowded throne room for his Stark wife. He spotted a group of Northerners, their dark cloaks and solemn faces standing out amidst the sea of lords. Satine would be among them. He began to weave his way toward her, eager to be reunited after too long apart.
At last, the Targaryen reign which had been fractured for so long was whole again.
Seated on a plush, smaller chair beside him, Padmé radiated elegance. She wore a flowing emerald green gown – the colours of her family – that perfectly highlighted her warm brown eyes and the golden crown atop her head, adorned with a gleaming rubies and the three-headed dragon at its centre. A true Hightower Queen. Anakin had already decided to commission a grander seat, one worthy of her. He gently held her delicate hand as the last of the Lords made their way into the room, signalling that the proceedings would soon begin.
His gaze lingered on his beloved as she exchanged a brief, reassuring smile with her father, Lord Ruwee – a man Anakin knew he needed to speak with soon. He regretted not doing things the proper way, wishing he could have asked for permission to court and marry Padmé rather than whisking her away in the dead of night. Padmé assured him that her father was a reasonable man but Anakin couldn't help but wonder if he would be as forgiving, even with the depth of love that bound them together.
Stroking his thumb along her soft skin, Anakin shut his eyes and let everything sink in for a moment. He'd only returned this morning, exhausted from battle and the trial of fighting his uncle's army. There had barely been a moment to enjoy his victory, to embrace that he'd lived and kept his promise to return for Padmé. She was safe and by his side where she belonged.
He might have faced the horrors of war, but his Queen had been no less fierce in his absence. While he'd been fighting, she gave birth to their children, Luke and Leia, his beautiful twins with the blood of the dragon and all the grace of the Hightowers running through their veins. The birth of his children had solidified their House's future, they had heirs to sit on this throne when the Stranger came to collect him. Anakin raised Padmé's knuckles to his mouth and felt his heart swell with pride. His victory was hers as much as his. He won the war for her, for them, and for the world their children would inherit.
He'd barely had a handful of minutes to meet his children before the great Houses began to arrive, but as soon as this was done with Anakin couldn't wait to return to them. He'd already missed the first month of their lives while away, he refused to miss another moment.
He rubbed at his temples as the unfamiliar weight of his father's crown began to ache. How was he supposed to learn to bear it day in and day out? Grimacing, he instinctively held the hint of his sword, 'Skyburner', feeling the cool silver metal of three dragon heads wrapping around the handle against his skin. The ancient Valyrian steel had been a gift from his father the day he declared Anakin as heir. A token of their ancestors, a weapon befitting a Targaryen Prince.
The weapon which took Sheev's head, ending the war and the threat to his family once and for all.
One by one, a Lord of each House stepped forward to swear their unending fealty. Lord Stark, the eldest among them, the father of Obi-Wan's wife, he believed, came first, his grey eyes as sharp as ever. "House Stark swears its loyalty to you, Your Majesty… and your heirs."
Lady Mon Tyrell followed, an independent head of her House, sweeping gracefully into the centre of the room before kneeling. Her red hair gleamed in the torchlight. "The Reach stands with House Targaryen, my King," she proclaimed. Anakin didn't miss how her keen eyes slid to Padmé, dipping her chin in a subtle nod. He knew they were friends – was it his wife who gained him such a powerful ally? Anakin couldn't help but smirk, of course, it was. He had no doubt she'd sent out ravens to everyone she trusted, rallying them to their side in his absence. Padmé nodded and Lady Tyrell stood, flouncing out of the way.
Obi-Wan stood proudly and declared House Tulley's unending loyalty – something he'd never doubted. They'd fought and bled together against the combined might of their enemies and gotten into more than their fair share of misadventures while doing so. Anakin had a mind to make the old man his Hand, just to see the despair in his eyes.
On and on it went, even the defeated Lannisters and Bartheons sank to their knees before him, pleading for mercy. It was only his wife's gentle hand on his arm that convinced Anakin to grant it – though each would lose a large portion of their lands and wealth… He wasn't a perfect man.
As the final Lords swore their oaths, Padmé leaned over the sharp edge of his armrest, "I'm so proud of you, Anakin… You claimed what's yours and showed mercy where others would not. You're going to be a wonderful King and father. Luke, Leia and I are so lucky to have you."
"No, I'm the lucky one," he swore, squeezing her fingers in his own. "Now, you and I can rule together and make everything the way we wish it to be."
She leaned even closer and Anakin laid his forearm across the sharp blades to cushion her soft skin. "Well, as the words of my House say, 'We Light the Way.'" Her bright smile was enough to inspire his own, even with the eyes of the kingdom upon them. Let them watch! Let them see how their King worshipped his Queen.
"With 'Fire and Blood'," he added.
Her lips were curved into a happy smile but there was still something beneath it – a weariness in her beautiful eyes that spoke of the toll the war had taken on her. The time they spent apart and the uncertainty that had plagued them both since the moment they left had been difficult. She had been afraid for so long, fearful of what the future might hold for them and their children and yet here they were, victorious. He was going to do whatever it took to make her feel safe again.
If he had to move Valrex into the Red Keep to guard their chambers – he'd knock the castle to rubble and rebuild it large enough to do just that. He'd do anything she desired of him, anything she needed.
"We'll have seven days of feasts and jousts," He declared to the court, voice loud and authoritative. "To celebrate your Queen's labours and my new heirs."
The room burst into cheerful applause. Shouts of blessings just barely reached Anakin's ears above the thunder of clapping hands and stamping feet. "Seven blessings to your majesties!" Someone cried.
"May the gods continue to smile upon your graces!" Another voice boomed.
"The realm shall sing of this day!"
Anakin kissed his beloved's knuckles once more. "Let's take our leave and see our children," he smiled. Any moment not spent with his little Prince and Princess felt like a waste after he'd missed out on so much of their short lives.
At that, Padmé s whole face brightened. "Of course, my King."
He grinned, standing and tugging her to her feet beside him, "Come then, my Queen."
As they made their way down the steep throne steps and through the room, every Lord and Lady of all the great Houses bowing as they passed, Anakin held Padmé's hand tightly in his. Together they walked through the castle halls, the weight of crowns and thrones left behind for a short while, eager to find peace in the embrace of their beautiful children, Luke and Leia – their truest legacy, the future of the realm and the result of the love which had led them here.
For all of Westeros, this was the dawn of a new era.