authorsnote: it was always going down this way, like it, love it or hate it.

hopefully at least you enjoy it.

songrecs: Heir to the Throne - GOT Season 8

'Why is it innocents that always suffer most, when you high lords play your game of thrones?'

- Lord Varys to Lord Eddard Stark, Hand of the King

-x-

Jon had not thought it would come to this.

As he sat, around the table at the Small Council meeting, Daemon notably absent, Otto with an inscrutable expression, and Jon projecting the same, waiting for their King, the rest of the table full and accounted for, Jon knew he was missing something.

He could see it in everyone but Rhaenyra, who stood off to the side, it had only been a week since Daemon had been exiled and there had been no other discussion. Daemon had been sent back to his wife in the Vale, and Viserys had been mostly absent. Jon had trained, read, and finally gotten to grips with his place in this time.

Only to sit at the Small Council meeting, sure he was the odd man out alongside his niece.

He would soon find out, as the King swept in and took a seat, all bowing before sitting with him, that he was right.

At least he could still read a room.

"The decision has been made" The King said as they each placed the marble balls they used to indicate their presence into the shallow divots in the table, Viserys' had hardly landed before he began, meeting everyone's eye but Jons.

"Jon will be named my Heir as my younger brother, with Daemon removed from the line of succession due to unsuitability" He said brusquely, and Jon felt all eyes on him, and was thankful he just nodded and kept his expression stoic, measured, he'd cracked a smile when he'd been made Lord Commander, he would not do so now.

Should he have protested? Would he have if Viserys and Daemon were really his brothers? Would he have demanded to be removed out of honour? He thought of Robb and Bran, if Robb were King and put aside Bran to make him Heir would he protest? Yes, of course.

But then he thought of Sansa, of taking back Winterfell to be crowned King, how she had smiled up at him, he'd named her Lady of Winterfell, assuaging his guilt, for hadn't he stolen her birthright out from under her? With Robb named King, Bran and Rickon dead, Sansa should have come next, and yet he'd taken the crown, he'd led Winterfell, Sansa by his side, but as a Lady, not a Queen.

He glanced at Rhaenyra who offered him the first real smile he'd seen since her Mother had died, and felt a guilt so palpable in his chest he almost spoke.

Almost.

Until he remembered why he was here, and not back with Sansa, either ruling Winterfell together, or a fresh corpse next to hers. He was here because the Gods had intervened, they'd given him purple eyes, led people not to question his name, and as he'd discovered in the library, had noted that his Father here Baelon Targaryen had briefly remarried after Lady Alyssa had died under pressure to produce more Targaryens, had married a Northern woman to improve relations; Mina Stark, a sister of the ruling Lord of Winterfell Benjen Stark, Father to Rickon and Bennard Stark, the former who would eventually sire Cregan Stark.

Jon had gasped when he'd read that tidbit in one of the books in the Maesters library, under the pretense of studying Northern Houses. To be half Stark, half Targaryen here it was … well it felt right.

Even though here his Targaryen blood mattered far far more than his Stark.

His Mother here was long dead now, as was his Father, just as they had been when he'd left.

He'd never known his Mother in the previous time, fitting as it was he didn't here, he couldn't deny it still stung, it still stung greatly.

But regardless the Gods had stepped in, made him half-Stark, or perhaps just kept him as he was, in a different time, same blood, different year. But hence Jons fostering up North, hence his dark hair, hence the fact none questioned why he wasn't quite a full Southerner, because he wasn't, because of the Gods.

The Gods that had seen him die a second time and not just bought him back, but moved the entire world around, and for a reason.

''Go back and make things right my Prince'

'Make things right, son of the Gods'

'Make things right, son of the Dragon'

And something he hadn't heard echoed the first time but came to him now, in the moment he almost wavered;

'Make things right, son of the Dragon'

'Make things right, son of the Wolf'

'Make things right, son of Ice and Fire'

The Gods had stepped in, and not so he could refuse duty out of nobility, out of honor, the thing that had gotten so many Starks killed, but so he could stop the Dance of Dragons and prepare Westeros for the real war, a war that mattered far more than petty squabbles over the Iron Throne.

He glanced at Viserys then who tried to offer an encouraging smile; he knew he'd do it far easier sat in that chair than not.

And so, as much as he felt that Stark guilt tear at him for not doing the honorable thing, he didn't do it. He'd learned, to his shame and pain, sometimes a person had to sacrifice their personal honor for the greater good, a lesson Eddard and Robb Stark had never learned, and look where it had landed them.

What had Sansa said to him once?

'I loved them, but they made stupid mistakes that got them killed'

He'd hated that he'd agreed with her.

And so, he just nodded, nodded again as the Small Council congratulated him, tried not to look at the gleam in Ottos eye, managed a smile back to Rhaenyra.

He felt Blackfyre at his hip, thought of Aemmas words in the dining hall; there had been no avoiding this.

And though he wouldn't admit it, barely even to himself, he didn't want to.

He'd thrived as Lord Commander, he knew that. He was fair and just, but also could make tough decisions, and as indicated by his demand to go to the Stepstones (one he would not relent on, even now), he would always stand by his men in battle. Jon was a humble man, but he knew he was a good leader.

An echo from a time forgotten passed over his mind;

'We all like what we're good at'

'I don't'

What had he meant? He struggled, but he knew he must have meant killing, and yet he was good at ruling too, even Sansa had said so with a little grin that made him think of Rhaenyra and made him miss Arya, so much more like her. Good at ruling, and he enjoyed that.

"Rhaenyra will serve as my second Heir" Viserys continued, and at that there was shock in the room, none had expected that, neither Rhaenyra whose eyes widened, but Jon offered her his hand and she squeezed it, the two Targaryen Heirs united, and she managed a smile. "Until Jon has a son of course"

"Indeed" Otto stepped in then, glancing at Rhaenyra with something stirring in his gaze, Jon shot him a glare in response but the man did not flinch. Dislike him Jon did, but he knew he was no coward, not in the traditional sense anyway.

And Jon knew why he was getting that look, especially as Otto spoke again.

"Jon will need to marry then to secure the succession" He said with a significant look at Viserys and then Jon who wilted slightly, he couldn't glare at that, he knew it was true and tried not to blanch. He thought briefly of Ygritte, of hair kissed by fire, and how still he missed her, but she was long gone, long gone from any hope of this world, and he knew he couldn't linger on her smiles, her cheek, or her scent any longer, not unless he wished to be driven mad.

"We have had many missives over the years from Lords offering their daughters" Lord Strong said then with a small smirk, and Jon offered him a glare next, thankful for his reputation for brooding that allowed him tog et away with it, "Jon will have many eligible women to choose from"

"Wonderful" Jon muttered but at Viserys giving him a soft glare of authority he nodded, if he wanted to be King …

Well, he couldn't dump any prospective bride letters into Sansa's lap with a panicked order to 'make them go away' in this instance. No in this instance he had to marry.

"Surely we should be prudent in picking the best possible alliance" Otto interjected, but then –

"Indeed" It was Corlys then who raised an eyebrow at Otto before offering Jon a smirk, which Jon did not glare at. In truth he was a bit intimidated by the legendary Sea Snake, none of that showed on his face but the man was a legendary figure in battle, Jon had cried his name more than once when sparring with Robb, alongside cries of 'Aemon the Dragonknight' and 'Aegon the Conqueror' (and when Lord Stark winced at that, now Jon knew why), always 'Bran the Builder!'.

"My daughter Laena is quite suitable for Jon" Corlys continued as Otto scoffed and he merely shrugged, "She is the right age, right temperament, a sweet girl" He continued, and Jon blanched at that, and had to step in, putting a stop to any indication of that immediately.

"Isn't she only just due her 11th nameday?" He asked in something akin to disgust, Corlys looked unconcerned before he tried to interject told him what he needed to know and Jon shook his head vigorously.

"I won't marry a child" He said fiercely, thought of Alicent briefly, looked at the King and quickly changed his thoughts, feeling a strong urge to punch said King at something he hadn't done yet, before carrying on, "I am at my 20th nameday for goodness sake, I will not marry a child"

"Perhaps a Lannister then?" Lord Harwin continued as though Lord Corlys had not spoken though he was smiling, "Or a Tyrell?"

"The Lannisters are useless but for gold for which we have plenty and the Tyrell have been bound in loyalty since Aegons conquest" Otto interjected, and Jon knew what he was trying to do, knew and felt a pang.

And did not immediately stop him.

"Perhaps a Tully then?" Viserys enquired, he too was smirking, and Jon felt another urge to punch him, he felt like a piece of meat! And sympathized hugely as Rhaenyra gave him a look that this was what womenfolk endured, and he better suck it up. He subtly stuck his tongue out at her which earned him a giggle she muffled. He was glad to hear her laugh again.

"The Tullys only daughter of their main line is but 9" Lord Beesbury said with a shake of his head, "We looked at the Riverlands families, and it would have to be a Tully" He said, "But she clearly is not suitable" He said with a glance at Jon who sighed, were they really suggesting he was being difficult by refusing to marry a child?

Not for the first time since he'd arrived did he loathe the people in this room.

Especially as Lord Beesbury let slip they'd been looking into this, like matchmaker fisher wives sipping tea and trying to thrust a bride on him.

Loathe indeed.

"A Northerner?" Lord Lyonel asked, the most objective of the lot. Jon wasn't sure why he was letting them all carry on, perhaps hoping they'd run out of options.

"No" Viserys said then, "Jon is already closely tied to the North, we do not want the Heir to be accused of being more Northern than Targaryen"

"I'll try to lose the accent" He noted for something to say, especially when Rhaenyra again giggled, and he offered her a grin.

Which was a mistake in hindsight.

"Well, a simple solution would be to marry Jon to Rhaenyra" Lord Lyonel said, and Jon schooled his expression quickly enough to not give off disgust. Yes, he and Rhaenyra were not technically closely related, but she was his niece here and for goodness sake she reminded him of Arya, like a sister more than a distant relative.

And then of course he remembered he was a Targaryen, especially as Viserys looked at them with a nod.

And especially as Rhaenyra didn't immediately protest, and gave him a look, a look that wasn't one of outrage, but of acceptance, and something else that worried him a little.

Fuck.

"No" Jon said quickly, and winced at how quickly before he schooled his expression, "Rhaenyra is my niece, and though I know it is Targaryen tradition, I love her more like a little sister, I will not marry her" He said, turning to Rhaenyra with a smile, noting she looked a touch crestfallen, and so he tried not to wince again, "Besides she is far too good for me" He said to lift her spirits, another giggle and he tried to forget the look she'd given him seconds before, especially as the crestfallen expression didn't completely clear from her face.

"Of course I am" She joked, and Jon nodded, turning away then, feeling somewhat squeamish, and somewhat worried, especially as Rhaenyra released his hand and stepped back.

Especially as Otto went to open his mouth, and if Jon wasn't quite so good at schooling his expression and apparently controlling his body heat, might have blushed.

He knew what Otto was going to say, knew he should let him and say no, and yet he didn't, and saw the glint in the Hands eye as he spoke.

"I will think on it" He said quickly, "Alone"

He heard two people go to protest, but Viserys offered him a smile, an attempt at a truce Jon nodded at purely to move the conversation along, and he instead moved them to the topic of the Stepstones, which Jon noted with a frown he'd only be given leave to go to once married, 'for the succession'.

A promise was rung from him to make a decision by the next Council meeting to at least meet with some brides, his decision would be needed within a fortnight, and Jon acquiesced, keen to get to the Stepstones, keen to have this over with.

Otto didn't take his eyes off of him until he had to speak, and Jon hurried from the chamber when the meeting ended (after a lengthy report from Commander Greyson who'd taken over the Gold Cloaks in Daemons absence), a touch too quickly, but without denying it to himself to the training yard to hide.

Hide and think.

And not of the one name, he hadn't allowed to even be spoken.

Jon should have known, a week later, into the Council Rooms, marble in hand, should have known that Lord Otto was not a man easily schemed around.

Jon had underestimated him, to his chagrin.

He'd spent the week dodging Council members, training, reading, primarily up on House Stark here, and the Northern houses, had ridden Vermithor, twice alone, once with Rhaenyra who'd perked up and joked, she wouldn't marry him and put up with his brooding. He'd seen Alicent twice, her cheeks pink, her smile for him nervous, and had avoided Viserys like he had some kind of incurable plague. Ironic.

And so, when he stepped into the Council chambers he did so with no real plan on the bride front other than to agree to meet some. He wanted to tbe King, for the good of the realm, the future, and in truth a touch selfishly, he needed to marry, no Sansa to save him here.

And yet … as he stepped inside, Otto usually the first to arrive was not present, only he and the King were missing, Rhaenyra offered him a shrug as he glanced at the Hands seat and felt a real sense of foreboding.

Jon was no politician, diplomatic yes, a warrior true, but no politician, he'd never be a schemer. And yet, he'd gotten better at it, placing spies (and he'd started to build his own network here, as he had at Winterfell, nothing too extensive, but some reliable pages and maids), a tread so silent he could overhear conversations, and yet he was no ruthless manipulator, he could be ruthless when needed of course, but not in the politicians way, not in the way to simply grasp at power.

'No man would turn down absolute power' No, not even Jon, and yet he wouldn't do unspeakable things to get it for the sake of getting it, and that was where he differed.

So, as he sat down, reached for some water, and the doors opened for Otto to step in, followed by ...

No.

He met Ottos eye as he walked to his seat, the King followed, and the figure in the middle of them, head on the floor practically, unwilling to meet Jon or Rhaenyras gaze followed too, doing as she had before him once, as she was told.

No.

The glint in Ottos eye and the smallest of shrugs told him what he needed to know, it wasn't hard to work out what Otto had done, wasn't hard to see history almost repeating itself. She brushed past his chair even, and he could see the nails at her hands bitten and scratched bloody, she knew what was coming. He glanced at Rhaenyra who looked confused, she didn't, no one else in the room did, but Jon.

No.

"Welcome" Viserys said, and they all sat, Jon forced himself to, placed his marble, reached for mead this time, and gave Otto such a vicious glare that if looks could kill … well the Hand of the King would surely be incinerated.

Jon could admit, from a self-serving point of view it was genius, and yet from a survival point of view not so much, Jon wanted to kill him and gripped his chair so hard so as to not leap across the table and do so.

And the man had the audacity to fucking smirk.

For once Jon was glad, he didn't have much of a temper. A demon in battle yes but never one to erupt massively, not unless truly provoked, as he was here; he bit his lip hard enough to taste blood to control himself, the coppery scent flooding his tongue, he glanced at her hands again.

"First, I have something of an unorthodox announcement before we move onto business" Viserys said, and he then went to stand, and Jon, glaring at Otto, damn Otto, knew what he had to do, knew exactly what he had to do.

He stood to his feet first.

"Sorry brother" He said as kindly as possible, and looked to his left, where she stood, where Alicent stood, looking at the floor trembling.

Otto had given him no choice, none at all, just as the bastard had planned it.

"I have an announcement first" He said, knowing it was bad form to supersede the King, but knowing he could do so, knowing as he nodded, and Viserys always weaker, shrugged and sat down, Jon had been depending on it, in this quick plan he'd truly had to spring into action the second he'd seen Alicent. He couldn't not do it. No choice at all.

He would not see her married to a man old enough to be her Father, aged and bitter before her time, twisted from a sweet kind girl who was scared of heights and loved flowers to a woman scarred by her husband and the Dance of Dragons. No, he would not.

"I have chosen a bride" He said with a tough smile, and Viserys looked delighted and waved for him to continue, which he knew he had to, and with a lance of pain in his chest, knowing as much as he liked Alicent, wanted to protect her, as much as yes, he realized he cared for her, knew what this risked, knew who this tied him to, knew how dangerous this could be, especially as he glanced at Rhaenyra, for a moment Jon took Alicents hand and made a choice, words flashing over his mind.

'Love is the death of duty'

And spoke.

"I have chosen to marry Lady Alicent Hightower" He said with a brave smile, as he took Alicents hand and squeezed it. Her gaze flew to meet his, unshed tears clear there, he could see her hope, could see her manage the most nervous and hopeful of smiles as he lifted her hand and placed a kiss to her knuckles. He did not blame her for that hope, not in the slightest, not with what the alternative was.

The die had been cast, and even as Viserys stuttered, and the Council quickly congratulated them, Rhaenyra too, though she sounded a touch … hurt? Jon could barely hear them, could only offer Alicent a reassuring smile as her hand squeezed his, before looking at Otto who nodded at him, and had never stopped smirking.

and there we go.

It was always going to be alicent, because who else could it be? this isn't going to be 40 chapters of peace, and I will leave any thoughts to that there. no more hints! (unless you caught the foreshadowing so far, if so well done you!).

I hope you enjoyed, I know some people were holding out for laena velaryon but she's too young here, and for rhaenyra herself, but thats complicated (no hints!), so here we are, but again not all is always as it seems.

also worth adding age wise: rhaenyra/alicent have been aged up to 16 here, jon is 19/20, I'll add others in as relevant

do review if you can, do follow/fav, and as always please avoid sending me death threats, but some fist shaking is allowed

speak soon