77 Iron Throne

Once again, the cacophony of mass production had returned to King's Landing. Hammers clanged on steel, picks and sledgehammers chipped away at stone and ore, and gurgles of molten metal hissed as it was poured into molds. The entirety of the former stonecutter grounds had been put to use, but instead of the cracking of whips came the exuberant singing of work songs. Gone were the chains and brutal crucifixions, replaced with the sizzling of camp kitchens and the jingle of coins forked over by the paymasters. The citizens were quite happy to find work close by, just as the former slaves far away from their lands were more than happy to get steady pay in the roadbuilding gangs paving the Kingsroad north.

In a little over two weeks, Chief Quartermaster Seaworth and Master of Industry Gendry Baratheon - a position created with him in mind - was getting the largest industrial base in the Seven Kingdoms operating again. Without Joffrey's massive vanity project, the goal of replenishing and furnishing the Imperial Combined army with enough dragonglass weapons for one three times its size was on the way to being completed. Dragonstone itself had enough to do so and more. Combined with the foundries of New Valyria and the Free Cities, the powers to be were quite optimistic.

Such was how Empress Daenerys Targaryen and her sister, Hand to His Majesty Sansa Stark, found themselves riding through the open air foundry. The heat was welcome to Dany, banishing away the cold gusts of southern winter. Pregnancy obvious and starting to wear her down, the blood of the dragon within her appreciated the molten temperatures surrounding her. Her child certainly did, frantic movements within her growing belly tapering off in the heat.

Workers bowed enthusiastically at the two women, whoops of enthusiasm breaking out every now and again at their liberator. The ground shook as Wun Wun stood, broadsword fit for a giant propped up against his shoulder. Clipped to a belt of rope were two dragonglass daggers, each the length of a regular sword. He pumped his free fist in the air. "Dnnnn-eeerrrras!" Though it was close to intelligible, most figured it out and a ragged cheer from the laborers echoed through the camp.

If it wasn't for the ring of Unsullied surrounding them, Daenerys figured they would hoist her up on their shoulders as did the freedmen of Yunkai. "They love you," Sansa remarked, faint pride tinging her voice.

While the adoration did arise enjoyable feelings, Dany nevertheless refused to bask in it. She had a job to do.

Out of one of the few large, stone buildings in the foundry quarter emerged Gendry. "Your Highness." He bowed. "Your presence is an honor…"

"Oh cut that out…" Daenerys laughed, dismounting her horse with the help of a servant. "You're family, so formality is not needed."

Gendry reddened. "Forgive me… sister. Still difficult to think, married into the Imperial family. Hells, still difficult to think being married at all."

Sansa smirked. "It's difficult to think Arya is married at all, but what can you do?" After a round of chuckles, her face hardened into a businesslike frown. "Now, is work proceeding as scheduled?"

Cracking his knuckles, resting the large hammer on his belt as if it weighed nothing but a feather, Gendry nodded. "With the trade routes opening up again, the vast majority of our forging needs are being handled by the foundries of New Valyria. All but the cannon of course."

"And how does that go?" Daenerys had firsthand knowledge of how powerful cannon were. The Imperial army had few, but they always packed a mean punch. Combining them with Lannister Rockets and scorpions, one would have the best artillery in history.

"We've improved the design, based on a captured sketchbook from Qyburn's study. Mounted upon a larger carriage, they can fire faster and are far more easily deployed. As for the Dragonglass, we have enough for five Imperial Armies. Currently, I'm working on fixing proper spears for the Unsullied, but it proves to have far more uses."

"Explain." Dany was intrigued.

"Dragonglass is both strong and brittle. Depends on the level of force exerted." Gendry rubbed the back of his neck. The temperature - if humid - was comfortable, but the blast furnaces and forges left the smith covered in a sheen of sweat. One that soaked through his clothes. "It's fire resistant and can apparently take cold as well, but against steel or stone it will shatter." A wry grin formed on his lips. "However, I think I can make dragonglass bullets."

Dany's eyes widened. "Bullets? For the handcannons?" She had seen their volleys decimate the final cavalry charge. Foundries all over King's Landing and New Valyria were cranking them out as Caryn hoped to increase their number from one thousand to at least twenty times that number. Slow-firing, inaccurate, and useless in close quarters, they only had strength in one or two volleys. Against the human wave tactics of the dead, they could be game-changers. "Are you certain?"

"Wouldn't they shatter?" Sansa inquired, equally excited and hopeful. 'But there has been so much false hope in this fight.'

Gendry shook his head. "Smaller bullets are far more shatterproof than one thinks. Plus I coated the back end with lead. Should work well enough." A loud bellow boomed over King's Landing, the dark black shape of Balerion winging down towards them. While many instinctively dashed for cover, the sight of the beast only jogged Gendry's memory. "Oh, uh… sister. That special project… it's ready for forging."

Smile forming in recognition, Dany nodded. "Excellent. I presume you'll need Balerion."

"Aye."

Daenerys began to walk to her dragon, it having landed in the field, kicking up a cloud of dust. "Set it up, Gendry." Her new brother in law gave a thumbs up and dashed off.

The dragon let out a contented growl as Dany ran her hands along his snout. "What are you planning, sister?" Sansa asked, walking alongside her. She was used to Rhaegal, but the Dread Reborn still made her uneasy sometimes.

"Just a present for Jon's name day," Dany replied nonchalantly. "I have been meaning to ask, why did you choose Lord Baelish for Master of Laws?"

Sansa shrugged. "He knows where all the Lannister bodies are buried. No better person to lead the investigation into what holdouts Qyburn and Daario placed in the city."

"Well, if you believe he is the person for the position, then I trust you. But keep your eyes peeled." As Sansa nodded, Daenerys took her own advice to heart - noticing something exposed by the sway of her sister's fiery hair. Could it… "Sansa, is that a... " Dare she say it? "Love bite upon your neck?"

Sansa initially twitched in confusion. "What?" Involuntarily, her hand moved to touch the spot on her normally pale neck. The confusion morphed quickly into a bright flush of crimson. "Oh, umm…" The old, coquettish teenager was evident as she frantically - efforts to hide her embarrassment as slapdash as Lannister positions on the Heights of Luther - tried to cover the glaring mark with her long locks. "It's nothing."

Biting back a giggle, Dany cast a knowing look at her sister. The young woman deserved a good relationship, given the past. "Podrick a bit possessive, hmmm…?" Her face reddened to almost pure blood. For her sake, Dany let the normal teasing slide - Arya wouldn't have, but the girl was walking on clouds as a blissful newlywed herself, so was not in the position to mock. "Next time your man is being possessive, make sure he goes for the shoulder. Easier to cover up."

"Why would you… never mind." Sansa violently shook her head. "I don't want to know." That did cause Daenerys to laugh, initially getting a glare but eventually joined in by her companion. "Sister… thanks. It's been amazing." The two shared a contented smile.

"We're ready, your Highness," Gendry called out, sprinting far from the smelting platform.

'I hope you like this, my love.' Dany turned to Balerion. "Dracarys."

Showering kisses on soft, female cheeks, Jon delighted in the squirms and giggles he caused. "Poppa, your whiskers tickle."

"Bow before your Emperor!" Rhaegar shouted, thumping his chest in excitement. Mischievous violet eyes met grey counterparts. "Now!"

Suddenly the tables were turned upon Jon. He fell upon the bed, a chaotic tumble of limbs draping over him in a scene reminiscent of battlefields long past. Only now, the guttural battlecries were replaced with pangs of joy, the mighty wolf letting his wee pups climb all over him. "I'm fallen. Mercy, great dragons." He grunted as a knee took him in the ribs, sputtering when Ghost joined in, licking his face. "I bend the knee to House Targaryen."

The sounds of a happy family had finally returned to the Red Keep, so long absent from within its walls. They were with their strong, loving poppa once more - everything was right in the world, seen from their innocent eyes. No war, no death, no trials or tribulations or abductions. Reunited with their family, the pack was complete and they couldn't be happier.

"Poppa?" After their little romp, Arya and Rhaegar were tucked underneath Jon's arms. "Why is Nym so sleepy?" The female direwolf laid in the corner, lethargic as Ghost hovered over her.

"Why, because she's with child, like muña." It was a delightful surprise, Nymeria arriving from the north swollen with pups. A new generation of direwolves for the pack. One for each of his children, one for his nephew, and enough for the next little wolves as they came.

After several minutes of the twins excitedly rubbing their hands all over Nymeria's fur - something the direwolf enjoyed, from her yawns and wagging tail - they plopped back down next to Jon. "I have a question." He looked at his son, inviting him to continue. "How is it, riding Rhaegal?"

Blinking, he really pondered Rhaegar's question. "On Dragonstone, you know how the winds can whip your hair. Chill you to the bone and yet refresh you?" Twin nods. "Well little wolves." He had taken to call them the nickname his sister cooked up for them. "Being in the sky is like that and more. You can see the entire world below you… and it just shows how small everything really is."

"Wow." Even for Targaryens, blood of the dragonriders running through them, it still inspired awe. "Can we begin our lessons?" Arya pouted at Jon's frown. "Please please please?"

"Yes, poppa, please!" Rhaegar joined in. "Nuncle Robb and Aunt Arya already have us really practicing with swords! We can start dragonriding. Please?"

Why could he deny them nothing? "Maybe, but only with your mother and me keeping you secure…" He didn't get farther before he was being squeezed tightly.

Pure joy coursing through his veins, the embraces of his children completed an empty part of Jon's soul. Reminded him of everything he fought for - of why he fought without complaint. For the Realm, yes, but fundamentally for Rhaegar and Arya. For Robb, Margeary, and baby Jon. For Sansa, and Arya - the elder - Rickon and Bran. And for the love of his life, his beautiful little dragon…

Speaking of his little dragon. The flash of silver hair, sparkling in the low firelight. Dressed in a soft grey dress, colors of his house. His eyes lit up even more. "Looks like we have a visitor, little wolves."

Two heads swivelled. "Muña!"

Daenerys had been watching her family for several minutes now. Leaning against the doorway, the scene brought unshed tears of joy to her eyes, the Empress unwilling to disturb the moment between father and children. Her children. Who were now crashing into her, arms round her petite form. "My sweetlings," she gushed, enveloping them. "Oooh, don't squash the little one."

Their grip loosened. Two sets of eyes - one violet, one grey - looked up at her, faces pressed against her belly. "Sorry, Muña," Arya said. "Sorry baby." She pressed a peck to Dany's stomach.

Eyes sparkling with joy, she caught Jon's gaze. He leaned against the sofa, serene smile on his face. It was so rare that he was ever this happy. Dany loved it. "Want to say hello to your brother or sister, Rhaegar?" He looked so much like his father, it made her heart catch.

"Hi baby brother." The certainty in his voice made his parents chuckle. "Can we see him now?"

Dany laughed. "No, not for a few more months."

"Don't give our momma that look," Arya chided her now pouting brother. "We have Nuncle Robb's baby." The twins had fallen in love with their little nephew. The pack watched over its own.

While Dany could spend hours in just this position, she had other business. "Now sweetlings. I have to steal your poppa for a bit, so head to bed."

"Poppa…" they both wined.

"Don't 'Poppa…' me, little wolves," Jon chided, but it didn't reach his eyes, full of mirth. "Head to sleep."

"Fine." Before she entered their shared nursery, Arya turned to give Jon her mother's pleading look. "Remember, you promised."

As Dany cast a raised eyebrow at him, Jon bit back his laugh. "I remember, little wolf. Go to bed." At last, he managed to lead his wife into the hallway of the Imperial quarters. Checking to make sure they were truly alone, Jon pushed her against the wall and covered her mouth with his.

Just about to say something, Dany melted into the sweet kiss. Her arms dropped to her sides. Offering her body to Jon and his possessive touches that plundered her sensitive places. Only when they began to gasp for air did he pull back, foreheads touching. "Jon…"

"I've been wanting to do that all fucking day." His voice was low.

Dany shuddered at it. "I hate you, my Emperor. How you do this to me."

Jon smirked. "I don't see you complaining."

"Cocky prick," she said back, matching his smirk. Oh how he'd grown from the somber boy in Pentos. "I really wanted to show you something. In the throne room."

"Oh?" They hadn't been in that place since the day of the revolution. Jon calmed the flames of desire within him. "Lead the way."

They walked side by side like an old married couple, manifestly comfortable with each other - her hand looped in his. "What did Arya make you promise?"

"She's just like you, always getting her way," Jon replied, mock exasperated. "She and Rhaegar made me promise that we'd start their dragonriding training."

Daenerys blinked. "Aren't they too young? Far too young."

"I didn't plan on them being alone, Dany." Jon leaned over to kiss her head, calming her. "Arya would be with me on Rhaegal, and Rhaegar with you on Balerion. Ropes securing them and everything." She looked at him skeptically. "Don't give me that look. It'll be far better company for their first dragonride than I had."

"And who did join you on your first?"

Jon looked away, quiet. "Tormund…" Faint, almost inaudible."

His wife heard him all the same. "Tormund?!" The visual just caused her to chortle. "This I have to hear…"

"Dany, do I have to do this?"

Daenerys giggled. "Yes, Jon. Keep your eyes covered." She smacked his side at catching him peeking. "Behave or I'll have Rhaegal get a fondness for looping." Jon grumbled, but obeyed. "You'll like it, trust me."

"I do not like to be kept waiting." He was becoming more and more a dragon - wolves could wait forever if need be. "Dany, please. This is humiliating."

Feeling a rather youthful sense of humor at this whole scene, Dany took pity on her husband. "You may open." He did.

Blinking, Jon gazed upon the gift his wife had given her. "Dany… what is this about?" Resting right beside the Iron Throne, the trophy sought by all that threw their hat into the game of thrones, was a second throne. Taller, bristling with bronzed hilts of Lannister blades, it had a polished freshness about it that its ancestor lacked.

"The Iron Throne, forged in the fires of Balerion the Dread. The manifestation of Aegon I's conquest and the birth of the Targaryen dynasty. Beside it, the Dragonwolf's Throne, forged in the fire of Balerion the Dread Reborn. The manifestation of how Jon Targaryen gave birth to a new age. A new conquest."

Jon watched his wife in awe. "Daenerys…"

She smiled, cupping his cheek. "Happy name day, my love."

He blinked back tears. "I love you so much." She was so perfect. Born to rule, born to rule. Ambition not for the sake of power, but out of dedication to the nation and its people. "You deserve to rule, Dany."

"So do you." She kissed him. "I thought I was alone. Even with Viserys I was alone. But you brought me a family. Brought me what I was missing. That hunk of steel… it means nothing without you ruling by my side." She threw her arms about him. "I would choose you over the throne in a heartbeat."

"And I would too." Inhaling her scent, Jon's hold tightened upon her. "What would I do without you, Daenerys?" Brushing her hair to the side, he placed a kiss on her exposed neck.

How he said her full name… how he kissed her neck. It made her shudder with delight. "You will never need to know the answer, Jon." Rubbing his back, she broke their embrace and looked into his eyes - leaning close to kiss him gently.

Her quivers of pleasure had ignited something in Jon. Something that he had suppressed for so long in the past - enduring endless teasing from Theon and gentle teasing from Robb - but now blasted forth like dragonfire. He stared at Dany, eyes dark with a devious smirk on his face.

Dany furrowed her brows. "What?" His grin widened, eyes flickering in the direction of the Iron Throne. It took her a split second to catch on, eyes wide as saucers. "Jon… no."

"Why ever not?"

"It's… public." His hands dropping down to caress her ass made it hard for Dany to think straight.

"No one's here."

"I… mmmm…" It was true - no one was here. Her resistance was failing, arousal mounting. "When did you get this adventurous?" She felt him lean in to her ear.

He loved how she moaned, trailing his tongue along the shell of her ear. "You make me this way, little dragon."

That was it. At her breaking point, Dany snapped. Fisting his hair, she yanked her husband down and crashed their lips together. The dragon was awoken, Daenerys pushing Jon up the steps to the throne."

It was all so sudden. Tables turned on him, Jon could barely breathe at her relentless assault. Dany's tongue speared into his mouth, hands shoving him onto the Iron Throne. "Seven Hells, Dany," he choked out before she crawled onto his lap, attacking his neck. "Fuck…"

"Which is what I will do to you, my wolf," she growled, sucking and biting. Grinding her superheated body into his groin, she felt his length. Hard as Valyrian steel. "That is going in me."

"Not… shit… before I get my fill… ahhhh..."

She soothed a large love bite on his shoulder. "You make no commands to your Empress." Her tone was that of the Dragon Empress, dark and firm, with a sensual tinge to it. But instead of cowing her dragonwolf, the words did the opposite.

Daenerys found her hands pinned behind her back, by one of his arms. "My turn," he husked, yanking her dress with one arm till her breasts were exposed. Annoyed as she was now that the tables turned on her…

'Gods, what he does to me.' She bit her lip as he latched onto her. "Fuck. Jon, please."

Jon sucked like he was but a babe, nimble fingers pinching and kneading at the mound not being attacked by his lips and tongue. He bathed happily in her moans of pleasure. Needing to hear more of them as he did breath in his body. With a wolf snarl he detached from one nipple, only to lunge at the other while his fingers filled in to occupy what territory he had left. "Mine," he growled, voice dark.

"Oh Jon…" Coming undone from her husband's feasting on her breasts, Daenerys could have sworn that she came just from his husky possessivity alone. "Yours… fuck... all yours. Gods, suck my tits my wolf…"

He basked in his prize, pleasure so great that his grip on her hands slackened. Soon after, he felt her fingers going for his breeches. "Dany?"

"I'm dripping," she moaned, exposing his member. "Need it inside." Not waiting for him, she pulled up her dress, exposing her bare heat.

"I knew you were up for this," Jon grinned, only to grit his teeth as she impaled herself. "Damn… still so tight."

Her eyes rolled back in her head. "Yes, yes, yes…" She needed this. Needed it so much. They had made love twice this morning but it wasn't enough. Their shared moans, the smacking of their skin, it echoed through the empty throne room. "My Emperor. You are my Emperor." The tone gave the words a new meaning.

In lieu of reply, Jon gripped his wife's hips and slammed up, meeting her gyrations thrust for thrust. She screamed, tightening around him as he hit her spots. A savage kiss ensued, sloppily dueling with each other and swallowing the fevered sounds of their lovemaking. Returning new life to a place that had seen nothing but death and misery for decades.

Sensing his climax approaching - certain Dany had shattered around him several times - Jon guided one hand to her shoulder and another to rub at her clit. The little nub he loved to tweak and suck long into the night. A scream let loose into his mouth, her hips growing frantic as she fucked herself on him and he rubbed her nub. They hurtled off the cliff together, stars exploding within their eyes.

Dany's head had fallen on his shoulder, snuggling close to calm her racing heart. "I'll never look at this thing the same again."

Jon chuckled. "Always a nice little memory to keep us going during the drudgeries of rule." His fingers lazilly traced her nipple. "I really can't get enough of you."

She pulled back, violet eyes dancing with a growing mischief. "Perhaps we should continue this, Jon Targaryen." There was no questioning, the two of them rising from the Iron Throne to set their clothes to rights.

Watching with a grin as she fixed her dress, Jon strode forward and scooped her into his arms. "Jon!" she cried, happily. "Put me down."

"Not a chance." He bounded for the doors, holding Dany all the way. "I want to be in our bed, tasting you as soon as possible." There were no further objections from the Empress.

Light streamed into the Great Throne Room, the bricked up windows crippled by sledgehammers and stained glass returned. The dragon skulls from the basement were returned to their mounts, each flanked by a black and red Targaryen banner to one side and a grey Stark banner to the other. Unsullied guards lined the row, but otherwise the atmosphere was joyous. Music filled the open hall, a chorus ringing out with the coronation hymn that had preceded past Targaryen kings.

Heralding the procession of Daenerys Targaryen. Clad in the same royal robes worn at Riverrun, it was now time to make it official. To use the Red Keep and confer that final bit of legitimacy to the Empire she had created. Ser Jorah in front, Missandei slightly behind her, Daenerys kept her eyes straight ahead as she stepped ever closer to the Iron Throne.

Her family greeted her. Beaming smiles from Robb, Margeary, Arya Gendry, Meera, and Podrick. The warm but subdued joy of Sansa. The placid but inviting nod from Bran. Daenerys accepted them with warmth, but her true attention was on the man standing before her. Jon. Her husband and the Emperor. The man she loved, the one who would be crowning her. Without prompting, she knelt.

"Do you, Daenerys of the joined houses of Targaryen and Stark, swear upon the gods above to swear your life to the Realm? To pledge your loyalty to the people of the Empire, and to defend the peace forged in the ashes of tyranny? As long as you have breath in your body?"

"I so swear," she said firmly. The struggle of her life, to unite the Kingdom and achieve her birthright. Not just completed, but decisively secured with an equal by her side. The man she loved.

"All hail Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen-Stark, first of her name." Jon's voice was clear, uttering the words that would cement the culmination of his wife's journey. "Empress of the Targaryen Empire. Queen of the Andals, Roynar, and First Men. Lady of Westeros and Queen in the North. Queen of New Valyria. Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea. Mother of Dragons, Breaker of Chains. Princess who was Promised. The Unburnt, Valyria Reborn. Joint Protector of the Pax Targaryana and Ruler of All She Surveys. Long may she reign!"

"Long may she reign!"

Rising, Dany ascended the steps as her husband descended them. Servants guided the trains of their royal robes, providence from above guiding the steps fluidly - without a hitch. Sparing a loving smile to his siblings standing in the front row, then to his wife, Jon bent the knee to the Targaryen Empress. Head bowed in loyalty.

As with their investiture as Emperor and Empress in the great hall of Riverrun, the ceremony would be done in a single motion. Each of the steps was to be performed jointly, so that Jon would be anointed immediately after Daenerys. So that she would crown him as he did her - Emperor proclaiming a Queen, and Empress proclaiming a King. Each item of regalia was delivered to him immediately after being given to her, a procedure that found no precedent in the history of Valyria or the Seven Kingdoms. Co-monarchs. Equal rulers.

A Song of Ice and Fire, one hopefully sung for the entirety of history.

"Do you, Jon of the joined houses of Stark and Targaryen, swear upon the gods above to swear your life to the Realm? To pledge your loyalty to the people of the Empire, and to defend the peace forged in the ashes of tyranny? As long as you have breath in your body?"

"I so swear," he stated, voice heavy with surreality. Only half a decade before, he had been a bastard at the wall. Now, the monarch of all he surveyed. He imagined his father standing beside him… 'I will make you proud.'

'You already have, my sweetling.' Jon could have sworn the words had been said, that Rhaegar Targaryen had spoken to him. A tear fell from his eye.

Setting the crown upon his wavy locks, Dany brushed her thumb upon his cheek. A subtle gesture of complete love. "All hail Jon Imperator of House Stark-Targaryen, first of his name." After long discussion, Jon had decided to keep the name Ned Stark gave him, a connection to the man who raised him. "Emperor of the Targaryen Empire. King in the North, Riverlands, and Vale. Lord of Westeros and Defender of the Valyrian People. Father of Dragons and Prince who was Promised. The Unburnt, the Resurrected. The White Wolf, the Dragonwolf. Friend of the Free Folk and Joint Protector of the Pax Targaryana. Long may he reign!"

"Long may he reign!"

Rising to his feet, Jon's eyes glistened as they stared into Dany's. 'Fuck propriety,' he thought. Reaching out, he cupped her chin and brought her lips to his. Kissing her sweetly in front of the gathered dignitaries.

Kiss over quickly, he made his way to the Throne of Revolution and sat upon it. Daenerys mirrored him, taking her long sought after seat on the Iron Throne itself. The throne of liberation and the throne of conquest. Side by side. Hands seeking each other out to wrap together. Forever.

"For the Emperor and Empress!" Arya Stark called out.

"LONG MAY THEY REIGN!"