A/N: Thank you to those who left a review last chapter. Was in the midst of trying to churn out this last, unbelievably long (probably the longest), chapter for you guys so I haven't had the time to reply to them! But I have read each and every one of them and they really encouraged me in writing this last chapter so thank you so much for them! So, enjoy!

Epilogue

Five years later

Jon

"My King,"

He pursed his lips against the smile that he could not stop from spreading over his face at the sound of that voice. He looked up from his scrolls.

"There you are," Daenerys strode into the chancery. He did not hear her knock nor notice her enter but Jon knew he could have missed it, as he always did when he was working through the intimidating number of scrolls waiting for his attention. Regardless, something about his wife and Queen having no qualms about entering his chancery, now shared with her, while he worked, made him smile. He placed the quill on the edge of the inkwell and rose from his seat; the work he has been immersed in just moments, forgotten.

"My Queen," he greeted as he rounded the table, going to her, "you know not to call me that," he muttered softly. Daenerys' lilac eyes twinkled before she dropped into a perfect curtsy. Appalled, he lunged forward, his hands caught her elbows and he held her, "be careful," he whispered, his voice wavering in anxiety. He wrapped an arm around her lower back and paused. His mouth dried as he felt her soft bare skin under his palm.

She was wearing one of her essosi gown again. This one was pure white. All of her sides from her shoulder to her hip and back were left entirely bare. The fabric of the dress was painfully thin and it dipped low and loose between her heavy breasts, affording him a sight that made a thick heavy lump form in his throat. Jon was convinced that this time, the tailor had truly forgotten a large piece of this dress. He told her as he thought and she laughed melodiously, "well, I like it," she said haughtily.

Jon frowned, dismayed, when he realised she had held court dressed as such, "I don't," he stated gruffly. He went quiet but was evidently upset for he has always been honest and was not one to hide his displeasure and his wife that better than anyone. Slowly, he helped her to a chair.

She huffed as he made sure she settled in it, "Jon, I'm pregnant, not an invalid," Jon felt his dismay lighten just slightly as his gaze dropped to the evident swell of her belly. She slipped her small hand into his larger, calloused one, "I know you don't like it and I did try to wear a Westerosi gown this morning and I had put it on. But it was stifling, my love,"

He softened at that endearment and, especially, at the sight of her imploring gaze; her doe-like lilac eyes looked up at him. He felt her finger begin to trace his scarred palm, soothing the stiff thick skin there. He squeezed her soft warm hand gently as he knelt beside her; all feelings of discomfort seeping away and he only felt the warmth of love, "well… I suppose I will simply have to tolerate other men lusting after you on the account that you are carrying our child and suffers for it, wouldn't I?" he sighed.

In her pregnancies, after Jaehaerys', Jon realised she tended to feel extremely warm, almost always uncomfortably so. And Jon supposed it made sense. Daenerys has always felt warmer than most. Her warmth was rivalled only by that of their children's; every one of them with the warm blood of the dragon in their veins, whom she carried in her womb. Because of that, Daenerys tended to favour her Essosi gowns, especially the ones that covered less than Jon would prefer but gave her much relief from the heat.

Daenerys smiled, shaking her head and Jon gazed softly at her. He loved her smile, "don't imagine things," she chided, "I am pregnant with your child, no one lusts after me," she cupped his face, amused.

Jon raised a brow, finding that hard to believe. Her pregnancy did little to mar her beauty. If anything, Jon thought it enhanced it; her cheeks flushed prettily, her breasts large and heavy, her body, now fuller, shapely even under her loose dresses, and most of all, she smiled often now and it was always a radiant, beautiful smile that reached her eyes. The unchangingly lingering gazes of the Lords who came forth to congratulate them when her pregnancy was announced was telling. But it was evident that Daenerys took no notice of her effect on others. How could she when she had only glanced over them to look to her King? "No one?" he pressed his cheek into her hand, a small, meaningful smile on his lips.

She chuckled, her hand grazing his beard and coming down to his chin, "no one but you," she ran her thumb over his lower lip.

A breath caught in his throat and he smiled. He parted his lips, pressing a kiss to her thumb, "no one but me," he confirmed. She bit her lips as her gaze fell onto his lips, her lilac eyes darkening into violet just so. Jon glanced to her bitten lip, briefly recalling how perfect her plump lower lip felt between his teeth and his lips, how sweet it tasted. Then his eyes flittered over her beautiful face fondly.

Jon had woken five years ago at the sound of her voice. She had sounded cold, angry then and when he forced his eyes open, finally breaking through the surface that was his own mind and body; her back was to him. After the third attempt, he managed to rip her name from his heart, through his parched throat and onto his stiff tongue. When she turned, the relief of seeing her lovely face again filled him. Then his eyes had fell to her swollen stomach, widening and he had tensed, bewildered as she came to him, cupping his face. The first thought that came to him was pain; for the time that has passed and he has lost. It was only when she took his hand and pressed it eagerly to her stomach and he felt the first kick, did Jon realise what he had truly missed and was later thankful he fought as hard as he did to wake.

Jon had tried to stop it; the dragon's death but the dragon, panicked. In confusion and agony from the invasion, it has killed itself. He could still remember crashing painfully into the rubble of the dragonpit, hearing a loud sickening snap that was his own neck before everything dissolved to nothing. After the horrific death, he fell into a sort of familiar blackness but it wasn't the darkness that frightened him; it's the lack of the feel of Daenerys' hand in his, her body in his arms, her skin against his lips, her absence. She was not here; they were apart and it frightened him.

He reached in the direction he thought was the surface and sometimes, he could catch glimpses of the world through another; a mind bonded with his, a mind fraught with pain, anger and sadness. But despite the despair, Jon found himself lingering near it, hoping to catch another glimpse of the world. Once, he heard her, talking to Rhaegal but no matter how much he screamed and fought, he could not see her and she did not hear him. So Jon had quietly sobbed as he listened to her heart-wrenching sniffles telling Rhaegal how much she missed her husband, her King; him.

Daenerys gasped, pulling Jon from his reverie. He blinked to see her small hand on her belly. His heart stilled, his stomach sank and he bolted to his feet, his mouth falling open to shout for the guards to call for the Maester. But Daenerys caught his hand firmly and he looked down at her, worried, "no, he kicked; that is all,"

Jon frowned but knelt beside her again, "are you sure?" he placed a hand over hers, on her belly, "you seemed-"

"He kicked my rib," she breathed, "hard,"

He pursed his lips and dipped his head to their child. Daenerys' hand fell away and he palmed her belly gently with both his hands, "Lad, I know you're just trying to get comfortable, but don't hurt your Mother doing it. You have to be gentle with her, as she is with you," he rubbed her belly and he felt a kick against his finger. He smiled, glimpsing the faint outline of a little foot through her thin gown, "hey…what's wrong? Getting a little restless today aren't you little lad?"

Daenerys sighed, "he was restless all morning," she has been at court, the crown still on her head. Daenerys and Jon had come to an agreement that they will share the duties equally. But with the Queen's pregnancy, the smallfolk has been seeking audiences with the Queen to shower her with gifts and blessings of all kinds; as they did with her last three pregnancies. So, despite his preference to have Daenerys kept in Maegor's Holdfast and away from strangers throughout her pregnancy, Daenerys held court whenever she felt up for it; which to Jon's dismay, was often. She was always insistent not to disappoint the people who waited all morning to see her despite her fatigue.

Jon smiled, rubbing her belly again, "didn't like court, did you? Well, it can be extremely tedious sometimes but until you're born, I'm afraid you will have to hold court with your Mother," he whispered, grinning as he felt the babe move strongly against his palms. Despite that this was Daenerys' fifth pregnancy, the awe of feeling their babe move in her, against his palm and almost as if responding to his words, never ceased.

Daenerys hissed, "stop egging him on,"

"Is he still hurting you?" Jon frowned, worried, "Dany… are you sure-"

She shook her head, "don't worry. It's not time yet," her lilac eyes locked with his and he could see the confidence in them. He nodded. She has always been an extremely intuitive mother, and she was right most times, "he loves your voice; they all do. And this one feels stronger that's all," Daenerys said with a small smile.

Jon sighed. This pregnancy has been difficult on Daenerys, more than usual, even before they found out. Daenerys had experienced a turn of appetite with their earlier children but she has always eaten; there will always be something that could tempt her palate. With this one, she threw up every morning, from the hour of the wolf till the hour of the nightingale, for three whole moons; heaving bile for her stomach was empty. Jon had been concerned she had fallen ill until he saw that Sam was right; Daenerys was only pregnant. In those three moons, she was unable to sleep, plagued with bouts of hot flushes and aches all over her body. She has also rejected all foods until recently. On top of that, this babe had taken to be exceptionally active whenever Daenerys stayed still which was when she rested.

He gazed up at her and removed a hand from her belly to caress her cheek with the back of his fingers, "I'm sorry, my love,"

Not for the first time, Jon wished he could carry their child, just once, so Daenerys could enjoy the joys of motherhood without all that suffering. This difficult pregnancy also made Jon question the way of things; if men were truly stronger, why should the Gods make the women carry the children? Why would the Gods make women suffer like that; and in turn, torture the men, who loved their wives so, for they could do nothing but watch their wives suffer? Jon had angrily told Daenerys this one night and Daenerys had smiled and kissed him. Maybe the Gods wanted to remind the women they are stronger than they think they are. She told him.

Jon had smiled then and told her, you are strong. You have always been strong.

Daenerys shook her head, "don't be sorry, Jon. I'm happy our babe is healthy and strong," she rubbed the top of her belly fondly. He forced a smile, taking some much needed comfort in that fact. He hated seeing her hurt like this. He rose to kiss her tenderly. When he pulled back, she smiled, one that crinkled the edges of her eyes and Jon gazed at her, basking in her radiance. It was still incredulous to Jon, when he realised, that after all these years, a simple gesture from him could brighten her so; what his love could do for her even in her hour of agony. His heart sang that he, of all the men in this world, could always bring a smile to her face.

"How was court this morning?" he asked, pressing a kiss between her brows, just beneath her crown. He glimpsed her close her eyes, the smile a constant fixture as he showered all his love upon her.

"The usual," Daenerys replied, gazing up at him. She rose and pushed him gently into the chair. She sat on his lap, their bodies settling into the familiarity of the other's; fitting against the other like two pieces of a puzzle, "although, a merchant came gifting the Crown with a stone of ginger," Daenerys recounted hushly, a youthful twinkle in her eyes.

Jon huffed, amused, "whatever for?"

She continued, chuckling, "he said, it would be good for bouts of sickness,"

Realisation came upon Jon and he nodded sagely, "so, a gift, not for the Crown, but for the Queen. The usual indeed," he gazed at her.

Daenerys narrowed her eyes, "are you jealous, my King?"

Jon glanced to her before shrugging, looking around the chancery as he said airily, "no, why should I be jealous of the person who is now, the most loved and adored person in Westeros, and who also happens to be the most beautiful?"

Daenerys laughed and Jon could not help but turn to her, captivated by that lovely sound. As her amusement quelled, she took his face in her hands, caressing his beard with her thumbs fondly before she said, "well, you really shouldn't, because you are loved, utterly and fiercely, by that person," he gazed at her in wonderment as she lowered her lips to his, "forever," she whispered before their lips met.

His hand unwittingly lowered, wanting to stroke her thigh and he sucked in a breath as he felt her smooth bare skin against his palm. He pulled away and looked down to see that her dress had a split, too high over her thigh that he had not noticed before. He groaned, "Dany-" she did not let him finish what he was saying before she took his lips demandingly. Jon reached his other hand behind her back to pull her closer to him, minding her stomach. As his hand fell upon bare skin again, he felt a hardness strain against his breeches; pressing up against Daenerys' bottom.

He felt her smile against his lips before she grinded her bottom tantalisingly over his arousal. Jon moaned, his hand slipping into the front of her dress from her bared side to tenderly cup her heavy breast that was incredibly soft in his calloused hand, "Jon…" she sucked in a sharp breath and pulled her lips away. Arching her back, she pushed her breast into his palm and he squeezed her lightly, mindful of any signs of pain but there were none. She moaned in pleasure and he felt her nipple harden against his hand. He groaned under his breath.

"We should go back to our chambers," Jon whispered, his forehead against hers.

"I thought you have 'urgent scrolls to read' and 'matters to attend to'," Daenerys teased breathlessly. He had left their bed, too early according to Daenerys, when she was just rising. When she pleaded for him to stay a moment longer in bed with her, with the promise of not merely cuddling plain on her face, he had gritted his teeth and told her as such and it was true. Tyrion has been badgering them about the scrolls they had neglected because of Daenerys' difficult pregnancy and their insistence to spend time with their children every day; each and every one of them.

Jon paused for a moment, feigning to ponder over it and Daenerys waited patiently, entirely unfazed. He tensed when he felt her run the tips of her fingers over the nape of his neck, just the way he liked and so full of promise. Goose bumps exploded over his skin. She bit her lips against a grin. She knew my body better than I myself. He felt a twitch against her bottom and the fabric of his breeches. An alarmingly pleasant sensation erupted. Jon said simply, quickly, "they can wait,"

But Daenerys was not in a forgiving mood today, "Tyrion beg to differ and so did you-" he growled in frustration at her teasing, pulling her to him and kissing her, hard. He then nudged her to rise so they could proceed to their chambers but Daenerys gripped his hand before he could walk her to the door and held her ground, "take me here," her voice solemn; a command more than a request.

Jon blinked, the constraint of his breeches now almost painful. He glanced about, "it will not be comfortable for you, especially not in this state," he said but allowed her to pull him to the large wooden bench beside the table, by the window. It was stacked with cushions for short rests.

"I will not risk going out there and having my husband stolen from me by the Hand," she snapped and Jon chuckled. She grabbed his tunic and pushed him back onto the bench. He laughed in surprise but lay back all the same. Daenerys made short work of the knot of his breeches, her fingers practiced, yanking it down roughly. He made to sit up to help her as she shifted to straddle him but he found himself staring instead when she hiked up her gown. He already knew Daenerys wasn't a modest woman but it did nothing to stem his surprise when he saw she wore no smallclothes underneath. Jon swallowed.

She smirked at him, sitting astride his hips and he lay back again. Jon smiled at her, placing a hand onto the large swell of her stomach. He wanted so badly to kiss her but he knew they both wanted something else more. His eyes followed her hand as she reached between them, her intent to join them clear in her eyes. Jon bit his tongue in anticipation, his gut coiling in sweet desire, as Daenerys' eyes locked with his.

Sometimes, with the look in her eyes as she had now, fixated on him like that and her guiding him to slip inside her, already incredibly warm and wet, she could finish him; and she did, one time. Jon steeled himself, sure the sight of her pregnant body over him would only make it more difficult than it already was.

He felt her warm soft fingers curl around the hard length of him and Jon's breathing quickened. She rose just slightly and guided him into her. They moan in unison as her intense warmth enveloped all of him quickly, "Dany," he moaned, unable to stay silent. She whimpered and rocked her hips before Jon could recover, "Dany, slow down," he gritted his teeth with the effort to withhold his pleasure to lengthen hers but Daenerys did not listen.

"Jon," she whimpered and he took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together as she rode him relentlessly. With his other hand, he gently teased the hardened tip of her heavy breast, visible through her thin dress. She cried out in pleasure, her body and especially her breasts, incredibly sensitive. Daenerys squeezed her eyes shut, throwing her head back, moaning as she found her release. At the glorious sight of her arching back in sheer pleasure, the sound of her moan and the feel of her clenching firmly around him, he finished inside her.

Their eyes found each other as they caught their breath, Daenerys still pulsing around him as his cock twitched, expelling the last of his seeds inside her. He smiled at her. She shifted with her legs to the side, adjusting her swollen belly, so he could hold her; staying on his lap, as he preferred. Jon sat up, his arm coming around the small of her back as his other hand palmed her stomach, "you're so beautiful, Dany," he whispered, kissing her bare shoulder and pressing his forehead to her temple. She hummed, smiling as he nuzzled his face against her cheek.

Suddenly, they heard a sweet joyful laughter from the corridor, telling of an approach and they both froze. Daenerys slid off him and he hissed as he slipped out of her. She smoothed down her dress, calmly. Jon sat up, tucked his now, thankfully, soft, wet cock back into his breeches and quickly knotted it, sighing, "how we came to find ourselves with more than one child is entirely beyond me," he told her, referring to their children's knack for turning up at the wrong time. Daenerys chuckled just as the door burst open.

"PAPA!"

Jon's face lit up at that sound. He turned to see Rhaella Targaryen tottering into the chancery. The sight of her tugged at his heart and all the bitterness felt for the interruption was instantly lost from his mind. He grinned and picked her up. Rhaella went eagerly, burying her small hands into Jon's beard before she reached up to tug on his hair.

Little Rhaella Targaryen was their first daughter; after the brave unborn princess who gave her life so Daenerys could be here, so her little brothers and sister could be born. Jon had suggested they named her so, after Daenerys' mother. Daenerys knew little of her but what Daenerys heard from Viserys and Jaime, both who remembered her fondly, Daenerys knew her to be kind, strong and always mindful of her duties. Viserys loved their mother, so much so that selling her crown drove him mad, and Daenerys, who wears her mother's ring even now, knew she would too if she knew her mother.

Rhaella had a head of long silver hair despite her young age, having been born with more hair than all her brothers. She was the very image of her mother, from her thick long hair to her eyes and Jon could not have been happier. He loved his sons but when he first held his daughter, he felt an overwhelming urge to keep her in his arms forever and away from everyone else, even the wet nurse, even Sam. Jon felt so anxious over her, he had thought he was going mad. For the first few months, Jon spent his days indulging himself, playing with his daughter while she was awake and holding her while she slept but Rhaella grew up and she grew to be fierce and brave. And like her mother, to Jon's dismay, she refused vehemently to be sheltered, much less be kept in her father's safe arms all day.

She was always curious, always moving about and grasping for things. When she was denied, she released the dragon's wrath, as Jaehaerys termed it. Everyone loved the Princess and everyone yielded to her; even the King, especially the King. It was common knowledge, within the Keep and a little beyond, that the Princess had the King almost at her every beck and call. Everyone smiled when they see the Princess on the King's hip, a common sight in the Holdfast. Rhaella adored her father as well, often able to sit in his lap for a long time and amuse herself with his beard or his curls, if she could reach.

Rhaella smiled toothily and hugged her father, throwing her arms around his neck and resting her cheek on his shoulder. Then she saw her mother and reached for Daenerys, "mama," she babbled. Jon walked over and Daenerys took her small chubby hand, kissing it.

Jon tore his gaze from his daughter to look at his wife before he asked, "are you sure it will be boy?"

Daenerys raised a brow at him, a hand rubbing her stomach absently, "Jaehaerys dreamt it, as did I," she said, "why?" she asked, a knowing smile on her lips.

Jon bit his lips and shook his head dismissively, gazing down lovingly at Rhaella. But as always, even if he did not say it, his Queen knew.

Daenerys pursed her lips, "you want another princess, don't you?" she asked, her eyes twinkling.

Jon chuckled and nuzzled his beard to Rhaella's face, making her giggle and his heart melted at the lovely sound, "I will not mind it," he muttered quietly, a small smile on his lips.

He glimpsed the edge of her lips twitch and she came to his side, her hand stroking Rhaella's back, her face unreadable, "both our families have more sons than daughters, I wouldn't be surprised if it were to be so for us as well," she said, her lilac eyes settling on his as she finished, seeming to gauge his reaction.

She's right. Jon could not help the slight disappointment that fell upon him then but that did little to dampen the warmth deep in his chest at the thought of his sons and the thought of having more, "I love our sons as much as I love our daughter," he stated stiffly. Daenerys raised a brow in doubt and Jon pursed his lips, continuing, "we will have seven more children after this one, they can't all be boys-"

Daenerys' brow raised higher and she blinked, laughing, "whoever said we will have seven more children?"

"I did, and you agreed," Jon told her proudly. He watched, pleased, as her incredulity faded into realisation. She smiled sweetly at the memory. It was a long time ago but it was evident that Daenerys did not forget.

It was first time, of many, in which they went down to the city and walked among the people. Jon had brought her a winter rose that day, for the first time. Since then, every time they went to the city, he gifted her with one. Sometimes but rarely if he went alone, he would bring a stalk back to the Red Keep. They had dreamt of being peasants and Jon had casually mentioned having a dozen children, surprised when Daenerys agreed.

He pulled her to him with his free hand so her side pressed up against his, sighing, "but I doubt it is to be. You suffer for us to have another child, and I can't bear it any longer,"

She smiled, shaking her head. Her eyes fixed firmly on his, she told him softly, "you are worth it," his heart skipped a beat. Am I really? Jon had always felt himself undeserving of her, undeserving of his children; this perfect family. Every day he was thankful for them and every day, Daenerys reminded him he deserved all of this; every happiness in this world, everything she gave him. Daenerys' eyes fell onto Rhaella then, who buried her face into Jon's neck, giggling as she felt this prick of his beard, "and they are worth it," Jon withdrew to glance to Rhaella. Of course they are. His eyes found Daenerys' again and he smiled, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek.

Rhaella straightened as she saw him kiss her mother, "papa, kiss," Rhaella demanded, pouting. Jon laughed and pressed a kiss to her chubby cheek, blowing a raspberry on it. Rhaella giggled loudly and squirmed away, "mama, kiss," Rhaella babbled, her little arms stretched towards Daenerys.

Daenerys smiled and made to take her but Jon tilted Rhaella away, missing Daenerys' frown as he gazed down at the babe and asked gently but sternly, "Rhae, what did I tell you about your mother? How must you be with her?"

"Gen…tle," Rhaella said carefully. Jon smiled, nodding before he handed Rhaella over, guiding Rhaella's legs carefully. Jon watched, proud as Rhaella wrapped her arms around Daenerys' neck slowly, her pink tongue protruding from between her rosy lips as she struggled to be careful.

Daenerys shook with mirth and pressed a kiss to Rhaella's cheek before pulling her in for a proper hug, "don't listen to your silly Father, you don't have to be that careful," Jon furrowed his brows in obvious disagreement and Daenerys smiled at him over Rhaella's shoulder.

Soon, it was time to go to the dragonpit. As Daenerys' handmaidens helped her change to a more suitable attire, Jon indulged himself with his daughter. He kissed her little hands and her perfect little fingers, then her beautiful little face, thoroughly. His beard tickling her face, Rhaella giggled in delight so loudly, Jon was sure Daenerys and their Crownsguards outside the door could hear her.

As Daenerys emerged, Jon glanced over her attire in disdain. Despite her large swollen belly, she looked ready to ride a horse or a dragon; the thought of both made Jon uncomfortable. Daenerys gently plucked Rhaella from his arms then and coaxed Rhaella to return to her nursery but as always, she insisted to tag along, "Rhaella, you will go when you are older," Jon said gently but Rhaella shook her head and buried her face into Daenerys' neck, "my darling," Jon coaxed and as she heard the endearment, Rhaella peered at him. She loved it when he called her that for it was special, from him, for her, "be good,"

Rhaella pouted, "no! Dwagon!" her cheeks reddened, eyes welled up and tears rolled down her rosy cheeks. Jon felt his heart wrench achingly and he reached for Rhaella, intent on soothing her but Daenerys shifted away, just so. He glanced to her, catching the stern warning look she shot him. He pressed his lips together, steeling himself as he withdrew his hands and clasped them together. His eyes darted to Rhaella, a deep furrow between his brows.

Daenerys cupped Rhaella's cheek, "sweeting, you can play with Suvion,"

Rhaella looked at her mother with wide watery lilac eyes, "Dwogon, Wayga," she whimpered. Rhaella loved the dragons. In that way, she was very much like Jaehaerys. Between all the tales of the Seven Kingdoms, she would always choose to be read the stories about dragons. And she had always gone to the window when she heard any sign of Drogon or Rhaegal, no matter what she was doing. Then she would gaze at them from afar, marvelling at the sight.

"You can meet them when you are older," Daenerys told her, wiping the tears from her cheeks with her thumb gently, "you are too small for them now, they can hardly see you!" Daenerys told her and Rhaella sniffed, quiet now, "at that time, when you are all grown up, Mother will bring you for a ride on Drogon," Daenerys cooed, "so high you can touch the clouds," she smiled.

At that, Rhaella perked up, her eyes bright through the tears, "Pwomise," she pouted.

Daenerys smiled and nodded. Rhaella grinned and pressed a kiss to her lips, sealing the promise as they always did between mother and daughter. Jon smiled at the sight of his daughter's joy. They then left the chancery and met Rhaella's nursemaid. Daenerys insisted on nursing all their children herself, save Jaehaerys, so the nursemaid was only charged with caring for their children rather than having to nurse them.

Rhaella allowed the nursemaid to take her from Daenerys with a pout. Jon caressed her cheek wistfully before he nodded and the nursemaid bowed, carrying the princess away, "were you going to allow Rhaella to go to the dragonpit with us?" Daenerys turned to him, asking sharply when Rhaella was carried out of sight.

Jon blinked, pursing his lips, "no but-"

"But?" she raised a brow.

"I was merely going to comfort her. She was crying, Dany," Jon furrowed his brows, his lips pressed together sternly. He could still feel the ache in his chest when he saw a hint of tears in his princess' eyes.

Daenerys frowned at him before she sighed, "the men weren't exaggerating when they said the Princess Rhaella ruled here,"

Jon chuckled, "Jaehaerys is the one she truly has at her beck and call-"

They turned as they heard a yip. Suvion cantered down the corridor, now monstrously large for a wolf and was more the size of a small horse. Jon smiled as the direwolf went to Daenerys as he always did, especially when she was with child. Once, they had requested Sam to check Daenerys solely because Suvion nosed her stomach more than he usually did. And the direwolf turned out right; unbeknownst to them, she had been carrying Rhaella then.

Jon watched with a smile as Suvion dipped his head as he came to Daenerys and whined, nosing her belly; worrying himself over the newest member of the pack. Daenerys patted him fondly between his ears. Suvion sniffed and rubbed her belly gently for a long moment, "Father, Mother," they looked up to see Crown Prince Jaehaerys approaching.

Jaehaerys wore a maroon jerkin over a black cotton shirt. His curly silver hair had recently been cut shorter, as he requested on his tenth name day. He came to them, bowing respectfully before giving his father a hug. Jon squeezed his shoulders firmly, a tight smile.

His first son. Their miracle and the one they almost lost in the War of Dragons.

Releasing his father, Jaehaerys went to his mother. Ruffling Suvion's fur affectionately, Jaehaerys nudged him aside and gently hugged his mother. Daenerys cupped his face and pressed a kiss upon his brow, "have you finish your lessons?" she asked gently.

Jaehaerys grinned, nodding, "I beat Brandon today," he said, speaking of one of his guard, "but I know he lets me win," Jaehaerys furrowed his brows in annoyance, "I miss Arya, she would never do that,"

Jon smiled. Arya had married Gendry after the War of Dragons. A year after that, Arya had given birth to a boy, Eddard Baratheon, called Ned and following that, a girl, named Alys Baratheon. While Ned had stayed at Storm's End, Arya had sent Alys to be fostered at King's Landing. Fostering girls was not the way in Westeros but Jon was not surprised when Arya had suggested it. Alys, like her mother, had a strong preference for swords than sewing needles and Jon and Daenerys was more than happy to take her in and encourage it.

"Will she be visiting us soon?" Jaehaerys' eyes lit up as he asked, hopeful.

Jon squeezed his shoulder, "she did mention coming next moon, to visit Alys," Jaehaerys grinned and nodded, "where are your brothers?" Jon asked.

"Robb is in the training yard, as always," Robb, their second child, has always been a wild spirit, since he was a baby; so much so that the Northern men who saw him said he had the 'wolf blood', the same Lyanna Stark and Arya has. Robb loathed the books and enjoyed his time in the training yards so much he spent most of his days there. At five, Jon was immensely proud of Robb's knowledge and skill with a sword, a bow and now, horse riding that surpassed even Jaehaerys when he was five, "Aemon is there as well," their third boy. Daenerys smiled and nodded.

"We should be on our way, it's almost time," Daenerys said, glancing out the balcony. Jaehaerys nodded and they began walking. Jon watched, amused as Jaehaerys raced Suvion to the training yard. When they came to it, they immediately saw Robb.

Robb was hard to miss. He was mounted on a grey horse, Jelmio (wind), his silver hair streamed behind him as he rode. Jelmio was Robb's horse, a gift from Jon for his fifth name day. Robb was given a small pony to ride when he was four but he had grown bored of it and lamented that it was not a real horse. When he was caught secretly mounting a stallion in the stables and almost falling off, Jon decided to gift him with a young horse; making sure the horse's temperament was much calmer than its master's. Jon grimaced as he watched Robb spur Jelmio too quickly around the yard, narrowly missing a page boy. Robb's impulsive streak continued to prove worrying for both Jon and Daenerys.

"Robb," Jon called, watching as his son turned to them. His face lit up in a grin. He turned his horse towards them and rode, too quickly for Jon's liking. Jon stepped forward from Daenerys swiftly and grabbed the horse's reins under its mouth, stopping the horse. Jelmio whinnied and came to an abrupt stop. Robb's grin faded when he saw Jon's deep, stern frown and unamused stare; almost a glower. He shifted uncomfortably and averted his father's eyes as he dismounted agilely.

"Father," Robb bowed his head in greeting and Jon felt some anger for his son's impulsive behaviour ebb away but only some. Robb then shuffled past him to Daenerys, "Mother," he muttered, bowing his head as well.

"Come here," Daenerys opened her arm and Robb shuffled forward, wrapping his arm around her middle, his arm over the swell of her stomach. He pressed himself against her side.

Jon took a breath and approached them. Robb stiffened visibly as he caught his father's approach from the corner of his eye knowing what was coming, "what did I tell you about being around your Mother these moons?" he asked quietly.

Robb hung his head, still pressed against Daenerys' side, "that I have to be careful-"

"And what did you just do?" Jon demanded loudly, knowing Robb had to learn, somehow before something bad happened. Jon glanced to Daenerys then and caught her already looking at him. You are being overprotective. He could hear her say. And too hard on Robb. Robb chewed on the inside of his mouth and kept quiet.

"Robb," Daenerys squeezed him around his shoulders nonetheless, "your Father asked you a question,"

Robb replied meekly then, "I rode Jelmio too quickly… towards Mother,"

"What if you couldn't stop the horse in time? What if-"

"Jon," Daenerys interrupted and gave him a meaningful look. They have always shared duties of parenting as with duties of the Crown, each of them chiding their children in equal measure. And they rarely interfered when the other reprimanded a child. But in treating her gently when she was in such a delicate state, Daenerys was not so strict about; much lesser than he was. And that was one of the only matter they could never seem to agree on.

Jon glanced to Robb to see the wild spirit in him dampen drastically, his silver head hung sadly. Jon closed his eyes for a moment before he crouched before Robb, "look at me, Robb," he said and waited. Eventually, those dark purple eyes that Jon imagined was his birth father's; Rhaegar's, settled on his hesitantly, "regret is a terrible thing to feel; when you have done something and you know that no matter what you do, you cannot undo it, you cannot right that wrong. Always think before you do, Robb. Do you understand?" Robb thought for a moment before he nodded solemnly.

Jon regarded Robb with a hard look in his eyes before he cracked a smile at him, ruffling his silver hair. Robb saw his smile and knew the reprimanding was over. Robb grinned, ducking under his father's hand as Jon made to grab for him. Robb laughed as he hid behind Daenerys, effectively avoiding his father's attempts to grasp for him.

"Come here!" Jon grinned and chased Robb around Daenerys for a moment before Robb took off towards the yard. Jon slowed to prolong the chase, basking in the sight of his son's mischievous grin when Robb glanced back at his father as he ran as fast as he could. Then Jon caught up with him and picked him up in his arms easily. Robb flailed, screaming excitedly. Jon tickled his right side where Jon knew would drive Robb almost mad. Robb giggled, squirming strongly. Jon tightened his grip on Robb and hoisted him over his shoulder.

"Father!" Robb complained loudly as Jon walked back to Daenerys, grinning. Daenerys pursed her lips as she always did when she thought they were playing a little too rough. But Jon could see the twinkle in her eyes that she had when she was amused, "put me down!" Robb kicked futilely and Jon tightened his hold on his legs.

"No, this is your punishment for being impulsive, again," Jon shot back and Robb whined.

Daenerys rounded Jon and Jon craned his neck to see Daenerys holding Robb's face gently, "when will you ever learn to listen to your father?" she kissed his forehead. Robb sighed loudly and relaxed, slumping over Jon's shoulder in defeat.

"You will be carried to the dragonpit," Jon declared and Jaehaerys laughed when he heard.

Predictably, Robb tensed and wailed, "no, Father, please don't!"

"Why not?" Jon turned to face Daenerys, smiling. She smiled, shaking her head at him, closing her eyes.

"The people can't see me like this!" Robb complained.

Jaehaerys approached, and teased, "Robb Targaryen, the one who was carried," Jon laughed and Robb squirmed indignantly.

"Alright, that's enough," Daenerys said, trying and failing to sound stern. He knew her better than that and so did their children. Jaehaerys grinned at his mother, "where is Aemon?" she asked, glancing around the yard. Jaehaerys shrugged. Jon glanced around, looking for their youngest son as he let Robb down slowly. The moment his feet touched the ground, Robb hopped back out of Jon's reach and bolted. Jaehaerys smirked and went after Robb, "Aemon!" Daenerys called.

Jon looked around but Aemon was nowhere to be seen. He exchanged a knowing look with Daenerys as they proceeded to the small hall beside the Tower of the Hand. Jon opened the door and peered inside, "Aemon?"

They heard the sound of a book slamming shut. Jon pushed the door open wider and stepped in after Daenerys. Their youngest son was sat at the long table, a large book in front of him.

"What are you doing here, baby? I thought you were supposed to be at your riding lessons like Robb?" Daenerys asked as she approached. Aemon Targaryen looked tiny in the large chair he sat in, gazing at his Mother quietly. Aemon had a head of thick hair and the delicate Valyrian facial structure but that was where the resemblance to Daenerys ended. Aemon's hair was the same shade and curled as Jon's and his round large childlike eyes were grey. Most who saw him named him a Stark immediately.

"I don't want to ride horses, Mother," Aemon replied, his voice soft but the tone behind his voice was firm, iron. Daenerys regarded him, amused. According to Aggo, Aemon already knew how to ride but had not enjoyed it as much as Robb did. Aemon had always looked uninterested but dutiful as he led his pony in a canter around the yard as Aggo directed.

"What are you reading, lad?" Jon asked as he crouched beside Aemon. Aemon's grey eyes fell from his mother to meet his father's and Jon found himself looking into his own eyes, "this does not look like one of your books," Jon glanced at the thick heavy tome upon the table.

"I found this here, on this table," Aemon replied. Daenerys reached over and turned the book to her so she could read the cover.

"A Complete History of the Andal Invasion," Daenerys read aloud, her brows raised as she looked up to meet Jon's eyes.

"They brought the Faith of the Seven to Westeros," Aemon said to his Mother.

Daenerys nodded slowly, staring, "yes they did, Aemon,"

"This book said the Seven promised them Kingdoms in a foreign land, so they came to Westeros. But in another book, Maester Kaeth wrote that the Andals came to Westeros because of the expanding Freehold of Valyria," Aemon asked, "so why exactly did they come?" When Daenerys did not reply, he turned to Jon, who blinked.

"That happened a long time ago, Aemon," Jon started slowly. Aemon looked at him curiously, "sometimes, with time, the truth may be lost. What is written in the books is only what is thought to be true by the men of that time,"

Aemon furrowed his brows, "why would they think different of what the truth really is?"

Jon pursed his lips as he thought and inwardly sagged in relief when the door opened, "because sometimes men don't know things but like to pretend they do. So they write what they think is true in the books even if it might not be the truth," Tyrion walked in. He bowed, "Your Graces, my Prince," at Jon's nod, Tyrion approached, "that way when people believe what is written, they make what they know, the truth,"

Over Aemon, Jon met Daenerys' eye and they exchanged amused looks as Aemon frowned, pondering what he learned, "then there is no such thing as the truth…" Aemon concluded, displeased.

Tyrion smiled at the Prince, "it is for us to find out, my Prince," he pointed to the book, "that is one of mine but my Prince may borrow it if you'd like,"

Aemon's frown faded into a small smile, "yes, I'd like that, Tyrion. Thank you, I'll return it as soon I have finished,"

Tyrion nodded and smiled, "then I am sure I will receive it back quickly," Tyrion's tone was light, teasing and Aemon's smile widened. Tyrion then turned to Daenerys and Jon, "shouldn't the King and Queen be setting off for the dragonpit soon?"

"We should," Daenerys turned to Aemon with a smile, "and we would if Prince Aemon here has been in the training yard, as he should be," Aemon smiled sheepishly up at Daenerys as he hopped off the large wooden chair and came to Daenerys' side. He slipped his small hand into hers and looked up at her with his large grey eyes. Daenerys' gaze softened at the sight of those eyes and she smiled down at him warmly. Jon watched the exchange, a knowingly smile on his lips.

Aemon has always been the quietest since he was born, overshadowed by his two louder older brothers but he was the sweetest. When Rhaella had been born, he had alternated between keeping vigil by his weakened mother and his fussy baby sister. Between that and his grey eyes that were Jon's, Daenerys had a soft spot for him.

Different from his two older brothers, Aemon favoured reading over horse riding or sword fighting. When he was younger, before he was able to read, he would always wait for Daenerys or Jon to come to read him a story before he was willing to sleep. Realising that Aemon loved the quiet and solitude more than the bustle of the training yards, Daenerys bought him a harp on his fourth name day just passed, and invited a harpist to teach him. He had been intrigued by music and from the word of his nursemaid, he practiced it every morning before he broke his fast.

Daenerys had told Jon that Aemon reminded her strongly of Rhaegar; from what Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime had told her of him. Rhaegar loved his silver-stringed harp more than he loved his lance. It was one of the first time Jon felt a connection to his biological father; through his son who resembled his grandfather more than either of his parents.

They departed for the training yards. Jon smiled as Daenerys unwittingly walked closer to him, their fingers brushing. Robb was mounted on Jelmio. Jaehaerys was atop his silver stallion, Suvion at his side. Aemon went to his black pony while Jon accompanied Daenerys to her silver mare.

"Are you sure?" Jon asked in an undertone as they neared the mare. Daenerys turned to him and smiled, nodding. Dothraki woman rode till they went into labour and even then, they laboured in the carts behind the Khalasar. She had told him when Jon voiced his objection of her riding.

"I'll be fine," Daenerys placed a warm hand over his and Jon felt his skin tingle, "we will be fine," she guided his hand to her belly and Jon caressed the swell of it tenderly. He met her lilac eyes momentarily before she turned to her Dothraki handmaids and nodded to them. Jon stepped back, watching with his heart in his throat as her Dothraki handmaid took her leg and expertly helped her onto the mare. Daenerys mounted the mare easily enough, considering her state, shifting to accommodate her growing belly as she took the reins.

Jon gazed at her a moment longer before he quickly mounted his black stallion.

Five years ago, this day, the War of the Dragons ended. And on the same day, Crown Prince Jaehaerys had walked out of the burning Kingswood with a new born dragon on his shoulder. Every smallfolk knew that story and every child who was born since then, grew up hearing it. Every year since that day, the people celebrated dragons and mourn for those that lost their lives in the war incited by the Blackfyres. They had celebrated amongst the people at the dragonpit for the past four years. This would be the first year Aemon will join the celebrations and so, the people will see him for the first time and more important, Aemon will meet Drogon and Rhaegal.

As they left the Red Keep, the cries of the people grew louder and reached an almost deafening pitch. As they did every year, the people lined their path to the Dragonpit, a candle in each of their hand to honour the dead dragons and the men who died in the war as well as remembering the day Prince Jaehaerys' dragon was hatched.

Jon and Daenerys rode ahead with Jaehaerys, Robb and Aemon behind them, "Queen Daenerys! King Jon!" Beside him, Daenerys' face broke into a beautiful smile and she waved to the people she passed. Jon waved, nodding to them. The people waved back eagerly, smiling. Some of them made to come forth, bearing gifts but the Unsullied and soldiers guarding them stopped their approach. Daenerys gestured for her handmaids to receive them and smiled her thanks to them, "Prince Jaehaerys! Prince Robb!" Jon glanced back to see his sons smiling and waving at the people. Aemon was sat on his black pony, looking confused and a little lost.

Jon was about to break from the procession to ride beside Aemon when someone cried from the crowd, "Prince Aemon!"

Aemon looked up, surprised. Jaehaerys spurred his horse slower and Jon watched with a smile as Jaehaerys spoke to Aemon. Jon felt his heart warm as a tentative grin spread over his youngest son's cherubic face and he raised a hand to wave. The people chorused his name then, beginning to push to get a first glimpse of the youngest prince.

He met Daenerys' eye as he tore his gaze from Aemon. She looked at him knowingly, pride in her eyes as Jon knew there was in his.

They came to the dragonpit then, rebuilt after the wildfire destroyed it. The smallfolk was nowhere near it as decreed by the Crown, for their own safety. Around the dragonpit, fire of black, orange and gold danced.

Jon dismounted and hurried to Daenerys' side. She smiled at him as she dismounted with his aid. Once her feet touched the ground, they proceeded to the dragonpit to call the dragons, his hand in hers. Sometimes, the dragons were in the pit, sometimes, they would be wandering the skies. But wherever they were, Drogon and Rhaegal would come to them.

Rhaegal. An answering presence touched him and the ground trembled just slightly as Rhaegal emerged from the pit, on his legs and forelegs. Jon felt his chest ache at the sight of Rhaegal's mutilated wing. Since the War of Dragons, Rhaegal had thankfully recovered but he could never fly as fast or as far as he did before and it frustrated the green dragon. Daenerys had told Jon, on more than one occasion, that Jon's mind was what soothed Rhaegal's restless one. Rhaegal purred, a soft screech at the back of his throat as he lowered his head to his rider and his mother.

Jon patted his snout with a smile as Daenerys brushed his scale gently. Then Jon turned to Daenerys. She glanced to the dragonpit before she turned to the skies. They waited and the people were quiet behind them, all watching with bated breath in anticipation.

A roar answered Daenerys' silent call and it was a roar that made the hearts of grown men shudder; one that sounded capable of splitting the sky; one that could very well be the cry of God himself. They were plunged into darkness then as the sun was blotted out. The black shadow landed heavily before them. The ground trembled, some people shrieking in surprise and the horses whinnying nervously behind them. Drogon roared, his wings stretched. His wingspan was now so broad it knocked over trees despite the ordered expansion of the area of the dragonpit.

"Drōgon," Daenerys said softly and the black dragon's roar died down. He snorted, eyeing the people with his great large molten eyes. Then Drogon came before Daenerys, his head lowered so it was touching the ground. But now so large, Daenerys could barely reach the top of his head. She looked up into his one molten eye, "skoriot gōntan jā ñuha riña (where did you go, my child)?" she whispered, stroking his snout. Drogon purred as if he was replying her and he probably was. Daenerys smiled. Drogon then shifted and seemed to sniff her belly, "aōha lēkia Drōgon (your brother, Drogon)," she told him.

At that thought, Jon turned to her. She met his eye. It's time. Jon turned around and met Jaehaerys' eye. Jaehaerys nodded and gently placed a hand on Aemon's back. Jon watched Jaehaerys crouch and say something to Aemon. Aemon nodded. Then he took the steps towards his mother and father, and their monstrously large dragons.

Jon felt pride swell in his chest as he saw no fear in his son's grey eyes, only wonder and awe. Daenerys held out a hand and Aemon took it when he came to her. Gently, Daenerys guided Aemon forward, before Drogon.

The black dragon's one molten eye fell on Aemon beside Daenerys, regarding him as Aemon looked back at Drogon. Aemon then looked to Jon and at Jon's nod, he extended a hand to Drogon but made no move to approach, as he was taught.

Drogon eyed him for a moment longer. Aemon looked nothing like a Targaryen but both Jon and Daenerys knew, a dragon would know his blood, as Drogon knew Jon back on Dragonstone.

Brother to brother. Blood to blood. A dragon reaching for another. Daenerys would always to say.

But Drogon made no move to approach as he did with Robb. Then suddenly, a purr was heard beside Drogon. They glanced to see Rhaegal approaching. Aemon's eyes widened. The green dragon stared at Aemon, sniffing him before stilling before him, close enough to touch.

Aemon glanced to Daenerys and Jon. At their nod, Aemon patted Rhaegal's snout, the green dragon purring tenderly to him. Jon smiled as he felt a strong protectiveness flood into him from a mind that was not his own; from the green dragon. Rhaegal loved his brother.

Drogon growled, bumping against Rhaegal. Rhaegal snorted before he sidestepped, allowing Drogon to approach then. Aemon's eyes were still wide as the black dragon came eerily close to his body, sniffing him before nudging him gently with his snout. Aemon giggled and Daenerys chuckled, palming the back of his head gently. Drogon then snorted and rose from the ground, as did Rhaegal. Jaehaerys and Robb came forward to join them then, Jaehaerys patting Aemon on the shoulder in praise.

"Jaehaerys," Daenerys said. Jaehaerys met her eye over Aemon and he turned to the sky. A screech was heard before a ruby dragon with pale wings descended from the skies quickly. The young dragon landed before them and Drogon snorted at the dragon, half in greeting but half in hostility. Jon and Daenerys exchanged amused glances. Zalagon watched Drogon retreat to the dragonpit before it lowered itself to Jaehaerys in greeting.

With the dragons in the pit, the ceremony began. Jon, Daenerys and each one of their children were given candles. They stepped forward and dripped some wax on the ground before erecting their candle around the dragonpit. Following them, one by one, the people came forward, bowed in greeting to their King, Queen and Princes and did the same. By the time the last person came forth, the sun has set. No matter how tedious these proceedings were, Jon had always cherished them. Apart from the dragons and the men that died for the War, Jon did not forget that the people had risen up and fought for them on this day. It signified an important alliance in the realm, one between the rulers and its people. It seemed fitting that once every year, as the people remembered the dragons and brave men, the Crown remembered what the people did for them.

Thousands of candles surrounded them, lighting the coming night. The fire would be manned by the people and would remain lit until daybreak.

The people watched from a distance, behind the multitude of candle flames dancing in the night. "Thank you, every single one of you," Jon said, "today is a day where we remember the losses but it is also a day a war ended and we are alive. Feast with your families, your loved ones, tonight. Every day is a gift, enjoy it. Live," he felt Daenerys slip her hand in his and Jon looked to her. Against the firelight of thousands of candles, Daenerys' ethereal beauty was breath-taking, her silver hair glowing. Jon squeezed her hand and smiled. The people erupted into cheers and clapped then, crying out for the King and Queen.

They turned from the people towards the dragons. Jaehaerys mounted Zalagon. Daenerys mounted Drogon with Aemon climbing on after while Robb and Jon mounted Rhaegal.

Sōves.

Drogon roared before he launched himself into the air. Rhaegal rose quietly, slowly but surely. Underneath him, Jon could feel his thick sinewy muscles tensing and relaxing. It has taken Rhaegal a few frustrating moons to recover after the gruesome injuries and another few to fly. But eventually, Rhaegal learned to fly with the permanent damage from his injuries and Jon was there with him, guiding him, calming him with his mind. Jon understood Rhaegal's pain for it has taken Jon almost a year to get over the overwhelming fear to attempt to warg again; after he has experienced death with Moonlight and lost months with Daenerys. When Jon finally did, Rhaegal welcomed him like an old friend.

After Rhaegal, Zalagon took the air as well, quick and swift.

Robb turned and looked up at Jon, grinning happily. Jon smiled, looking down at the sprawling city. Jon could still remember the first time he had brought Daenerys' army to King's Landing to take the Iron Throne, as he knew she would want. It had smelled terrible to him; like shit and piss and the people looked less than welcoming; they were hostile, angry and sullen. Now, activities bustled below as the people feasted happily on the food the Crown provided on this day, the smell that wafted to his nose only that of mouth-watering mutton.

Jon guided Rhaegal lower and he smiled as he heard the joyous, raucous laughter of the people below, "remember this, Robb," Jon told his son, "you are born in a time of peace and surrounded by happiness and love. But it wasn't always like this-"

"I know Father," Robb looked up at him. He made a face then, probably in recollection of the painful times he was forced to attend his lessons with the Grand Maester, "Grand Maester Sam told me all about the wars,"

Jon chuckled, ruffling his son's head of silver hair as he resolved to stop engaging his son in such a sombre conversation on a happy occasion.

To his surprise, Robb spoke up, "Uncle Robb died in the War of the Five Kings, in the Red Wedding, didn't he?"

Jon felt a familiar ache in his chest as his cousin, who Jon took more as a brother, was mentioned, "yes,"

"He was a great warrior and a good leader, emerging triumphant in two battles against Tywin Lannister," Robb said, "and he is brave and honourable too. Like you, Father," Jon looked into Robb's eyes and was happy but also afraid to see the pure admiration and adoration his son had for him. Robb is… much better than I- Jon wanted to tell his son but Robb continued, "War is a terrible thing,"

A lump formed in Jon's throat. Robb wasn't asking but he was too young to know this. Jon asked, "why do you say that, Robb?"

Robb gazed up at him and said, "good men are gone because of it. And it still pains you and Mother to talk about it. You always grow sad when I mention Uncle Robb, or Uncle Rickon," the pain of loss never really goes away. "I wish I knew them; especially Uncle Robb, the Young Wolf," Robb's purple eyes shone with pride.

Jon forced a smile and held Robb to him firmly around his shoulders, hugging him, "I wish he could meet you. He would love you," Jon pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, "you were named for your Uncle Robb not only because of a war and what he did in it. Yes, he was a good King, a good leader, a warrior. But you are so named because he was my brother and he was strong, kind, and honourable. He loved his family. And when I saw you, I could think of no better way to honour him, and no better name for you," Robb smiled.

Jon then looked up to see Drogon screeching as they approached the Keep. They came to Maegor's Holdfast. Jon guided Rhaegal to allow them to dismount on the balcony. He watched with a smile as Robb climbed agilely from Rhaegal and landed firmly on his feet. Jon followed. He turned, patting Rhaegal's snout and touching his forehead to his jaw as his mind touched Rhaegal's, in thanks. Rhaegal purred before he flew higher, no doubt to settle somewhere high on the Holdfast. Rhaegal never left their side every year this night. He would keep vigil, as he did the night before the war.

Jon then turned to Drogon. Aemon was dismounting carefully, followed by Daenerys. Jon plucked Aemon from Drogon's side and placed him beside Robb. Then he waited for Daenerys. She stepped on Drogon's foreleg and the dragon purred, slowly moving his foreleg down to the balcony. She smiled as she saw him looking at her, worried.

When she was low enough, Daenerys snaked her arms over his shoulders and Jon carried her from Drogon. He placed her on the ground slowly and she turned to Drogon. She touched his foreleg gently and when she withdrew, Drogon rose, screeching as he took off.

It was late by the time Jon and Daenerys returned to their chambers. They had read Robb and Aemon a story before they slept. Jaehaerys had kissed them, bidding them goodnight before he returned to his chambers. When they peeked into Rhaella's room, Suvion perked his great white head up. Both of them were on the bed, Suvion taking up most of it. The princess has fallen asleep with her head on the back of the direwolf, her little hands fisting his fur.

Daenerys paused at the balcony and gazed out. They could see the dragonpit, still brightly lit by the thousands of candles. Jon came up behind her, his hands gently touching her shoulders. The handmaidens were preparing a warm bath for them and they could see their King and Queen plainly. But since the War of Dragons, they no longer hid their love from their subjects or the people.

Daenerys leaned back into him. He smiled as she closed her eyes, resting her head back on his shoulder. Jon gently caressed her down her arm before his hands came to the small of her back. His fingers worked firmly, methodologically at the tensed muscles there.

He turned to kiss her on her cheek as she groaned, sighing happily. Behind him, he was mildly aware of the handmaidens taking their leave, the bath presumably ready. They knew the King will attend to the Queen, and would insist to as he did every day. Jon removed his hands from her back to undo her braids. Then he remove her clothes. Peeling away her tunic and small clothes, the smooth skin on her back was revealed to him; only marred by a scar of a stab wound. The sight of her attaining it still haunted Jon. He dipped his head and kissed her scar firmly, as he did every time he saw it. She hummed happily. Then she removed her pants. His mouth dried as she wiggled her shapely hips, dropping her pants and stepping from it, now completely naked. She turned to him.

She was stunningly gorgeous in the dim candle light. Her lilac eyes were bright and fixed on him. Her full lips in a smile. Her larger, heavier breasts were beautiful. Her nipples hardened as cool air blew in through the balcony. Daenerys did not shiver, not with their child in her, warming her. Jon sighed as his eyes fell onto the large swell of her stomach. Daenerys was due before the next moon and Jon felt the, now familiar, excitement accompanied by an almost crippling worry and anxiety. Then his eyes dropped lower and settled between her legs. Jon felt a lump in his throat that made it hard to breathe and his cock strained against his breeches.

Jon went to her, his legs felt stiff and weak at the knees at the same time. He touched her swollen stomach fondly, gazing at her, "come," he took her hand and guided her to the tub, now filled with hot, steaming bath water. He held Daenerys' hand firmly, his other arm around his waist, as she rose the steps and stepped into the tub. She sighed, her eyes slipping shut, as the heat of the water enveloped her.

She sat and opened her eyes. Daenerys' eyes settled on him and glanced over him. Jon reached for the rag to help wash her back when she said, "take off your clothes and step in the tub," an order.

Jon chuckled. He was the King but when the Queen ordered, he obeyed all the same; as did she when he had a command, "yes, My Queen," he replied mutely, a small smile on his lips. Jon slipped out of his clothes. All the while, Daenerys' eyes stayed on him, unblinking. He stepped into the tub, aware of her gaze lowering to his hard cock. He hissed as he touched the water. It was almost scalding hot. Jon has bathed with her before and it has been the same. But as it happened the last time, Jon took one look at her; gazing up at him, waiting, the hard nipples of her heavy breasts peeking just above the water and Jon settled in the tub opposite her immediately.

Daenerys smiled and found her place in his lap. She picked up a rag and soaked it before bringing it across his shoulders as he did with another rag across her back gently. All the while, as her gaze dropped to his body, washing him, his eyes stayed on her lovely face.

His wife looked the same; her face imprinted in his mind from when he had spent hours memorising her features while she slept her years away. Jon lost those four years with Dany; four years of living. She slept in those years and Jon felt, in a way, a part of him did too. He kept a part of him with her, in that room, even as he sat in court, in small council meetings and even when he was with Jaehaerys. But Jon did not realise that, not until she woke. With her by his side, Jon felt the weight lift off his shoulders. He could smile and laugh and breathe, easier; he could live.

As always, they did not manage to wash much of the other before the rags were abandoned in the tub, in exchange for the touch of their hands on their skin. Daenerys shifted in his lap and they made love slowly. Jon took the time to kiss every inch of her; professing his love for her in every touch of his lips to hers, pledging himself to her with every kiss upon her skin. He told her how beautiful she was with the gentle caresses of his scarred hand. As it did the first time, Daenerys writhed and moaned loudly, her fingers clutching him.

As his love, wife and Queen came undone in his lap, his name on her lips, her lilac eyes fixed on him, he spilled into her. Jon felt an intense, crippling sort of affection for her flood into his chest then. As she melted against him and around him, spent, he held her as close as he could to him. He was the King of all Seven Kingdoms but in that moment, he felt he had more in his arms than he did when he sat on the Iron Throne or atop Rhaegal high in the skies.

Later that night, as Daenerys fell asleep, Jon scooted closer. He always waited till she fell asleep to gather her into his arms for Dany did not allow that while she was pregnant; between the intensely uncomfortable warmth and the baby tossing and turning in her, she would not be able to fall asleep in his arms.

He wrapped his arms around her slumbering form gently. He smiled as she stirred only to burrow her face into his neck and press herself closer to him. She murmured incoherently in her sleep and Jon heard his name. As he did every day, Jon whispered words of love into her hair, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, before he settled to sleep. As he drifted to sleep, far above their Holdfast, Jon could almost hear Rhaegal's steady breaths and purrs as if he was beside them; watching over them. Assured, safe, Jon fell asleep.

He walked through the doors the Unsullied soldiers pushed open. His steps were firm and looked deliberate but he took them with trepidation and much uncertainty for what he was going to find; for who awaited him.

Will she be mad like her Father? Will she burn me with her dragons? Will she bully me into giving up the North, my home? Will she believe me about the Night King and Army of the Dead? Will she help us?

He glanced up to take in the magnificent structure of the throne room, tall and imposing; intimidating. Then his eyes fell on the throne at the front of the throne room; on the person sitting in it.

His breathing stilled and his legs slowed, becoming stiff and heavy. He stared; a lump formed in his throat, his mouth dried, and his heart raced in his chest.

"You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn-"

He took a deliberate breath and released it shakily.

"of House Targaryen," the throne was as intimidating as the rest of the castle and the throne room, "rightful heir to the Iron Throne, rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Man-"

He shifted on his feet, attempting to but was unable to tame his pounding heart and ease his shallow breaths. She was unexpectedly young, about his age. She had long silver hair and a sweet, comely face. No matter how hard he tried not to think it, he thought, she's beautiful. She had an ethereal beauty about her even in such a dark intimidating throne room but there was the fire of a Targaryen Queen behind that beauty that was palpable even from where he stood. Jon has never seen anyone like her.

"Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains,"

It took him a moment to realise silence has befallen the throne room and he tore his gaze from her; the pounding of his heart now fuelling caution and wariness instead of a dangerous, irrational, but undoubtedly blossoming infatuation. He glanced to Ser Davos, uncomfortable with having someone else introduce him as if he was a King, much preferring to skip the introductions, but he recognised it to be inappropriate at this moment.

"This is Jon Snow," Jon turned to her. She was regal and stiff in the tall intimidating throne, her hands clasped in her lap firmly. At Ser Davos' words, she was unmoving but for the slight, deliberate dip of her head in acknowledgement. Her gaze on them was unshifting even when she heard his bastard name. She seemed to hold no disdains for bastards or if she did, it was completely hidden from him; as was what she thought of him as she laid eyes on him. His heart raced underneath his breastplate. She said nothing. He glanced to Ser Davos again in uncertainty and Ser Davos added, "He is King in the North,"

The End

Age of the children: Jaehaerys is 10, Robb 5, Aemon 4 and Rhaella 2.

That's it! What a journey! Thank you to those who stuck by this story, through all the times I screwed up/ it wasn't easy to read because of the screw-ups and almost constant angst! Hope I made it worth all the time and distress in the end!

For those who want to know:

Future Jonerys story? Yes, at the moment I do have an idea swimming around in my mind and I think it's pretty original but I haven't had the details up and it may be a while before the first chapter is even up but do keep a look out (or if you guys would prefer, I guess I could always update you guys on here).