This is full of INCEST.
Please be patient with the updates as I'm going to try write the two chapters before posting them, so both avenues will be updated at the same time. If you're reading both, you'll notice they are either similar or the same with minor changes, just because they're to follow a similar direction. Thank you :)
i.
The day of the coronation was one filled with nerves as Rhaenar hesitated at the fringes of her new room, her eyes searching the ceiling as her stomach turned. She had been left in a simple chemise, the long cotton barely gracing her thighs as it danced at the tops of her legs. The maids were pulling at the strands, struggling to get the bells into the pale locks as their fingers failed to hold onto one of the pieces.
Rhaenar was growing agitated, the pair of maids exchanging glances as a bell slipped from one of the plaits and hit the floor, rolling away into some unknown dusty destination. Her resolve broke, her body standing as her fingers touched at the vanity. "Leave me," She began, the girls scuttling away.
Silence enveloped her, bringing her back into its grasp as she fell back to the chair, slumping. Rhaenar's forehead met her hand, her eyes closing. There were subtle differences between the King's Landing maids and those she had brought with her between Dragonstone and wherever she had travelled. They didn't hold the same finesse, the braids considerably sloppy compared to their usual tight manner.
"I heard you've been scaring people away." Aegon uttered from behind her as he slipped into the room, Rhaenar raising to glance to him through the mirror, tiredness in the indigo shades. "I almost got mowed down by two girls in red."
"Yes; Mara and Dia, they are my new handmaidens, and all I've come to know about them is how they both lust after a Knight named Daniel, and how they enjoy gossiping." Rhaenar stated, her tone as tired as she was. "They're useless at all of this." Her hand waving to the mess at the back of her head, at their use of the brush against her curls causing them to frazzle, and the bells caught in knots.
He winced. "Yes, that does look..." He ended the sentence on a hum, stepping further in as he closed the door behind him and approached her, his hands reaching out to pull at the strands. The midnight blue could see the tangles of forgotten braids, of black bands securing the plaits they had managed but garish against the contrasting tone of the tie. It was coronation day, everything had to be perfect.
Aegon grasped the brush in his hand, running the bristles through one of the knots as his other hand tugged to free the bell. "Is this all necessary?" The bells, the plaits, the dragons...
Rhaenar frowned, offended by his question. "Yes, it's necessary Aegon. Just because the war is won, doesn't mean there won't be threats. Everyone knows how important Dothraki culture is to me, the bells and plaits show what I've won, what I've achieved to be here."
His brows rose. "I'm just saying..." He murmured. "If it is getting you stressed, is it worth it?" This whole thing was causing her to be snappy, shouting at the maids, being short with him... It wasn't like her.
Rhae's shoulders slumped. "I just want everything to go well, Egg. This is me being pristine about how we present ourselves, the newest generation of Targaryens. We have a reputation to uphold." Egg snorted, but let it go as he pulled free one of the bells, setting it into the dish with what looks like a hundred more. He wouldn't be winding all of those in.
"They will love you, and I know they will because I love you." The statement drew the indigo up, settling on his face as his eyes had chosen to focus on his hands.
"Do you mean that?" Rhae asked, her voice lower as she watched for any hint of lies.
He nodded. "You know I mean it, I've been nothing but honest with you since the moment we met. I bared my intentions." His intentions were to marry her, to strengthen her claim if ever it was questioned. "You said in the council chamber you knew who you wanted to marry, were you speaking truth?"
"Wholly." Their eyes met as he glanced up. "The war has kept me busy for many months, and I've deflected any form of attachment from anyone." Rhae said cryptically. "Mero's death crushed me in a way I never thought possible, and keeping it locked in steel has prevented me from losing myself." Rhae had been strong through all of this, through every death she faced. "But I know what's expected of me, what I have to do."
"And that's take a husband?" Aegon questioned.
Rhaenar nodded. "My gender alone will never satisfy the Lords fully, but to have a male alongside me that can appeal to them on a more... understanding level..." She wasn't entirely sure if that was the correct way to put it. "It helps keep me on the Throne."
The air grew hushed around them, their eyes never wavering. "So who is it you decided upon?"
"Do you remember Meereen? Why you came, what you were there for?" Because he wanted to help his sister, to take revenge on the Kingdom that threw them to the dogs, and to strengthen her claim through...
"You want to marry me?" His hands stopped as he dropped the braids, a tension growing as they fell to her arms.
Rhae turned, glancing up at him as he stood before her. "You're the only one I trust with such a position, the only one deserving of it. You were supposed to be King of the Seven Kingdoms if Rhaegar hadn't been killed." He flustered, taking a step back as he shifted away, glancing out the window. Rhaenar raised herself, stepping towards him as she reached out, hands running along his sides. "Please, Egg," She began, locking them around his waist as her cheek pressed to his back. "Just think about it."
Slowly, Aegon's hands settled on top of Rhae's, feeling the soft skin beneath his palm as they remained standing in the centre of the room. Aegon's eyes staring out over the expanse of the city, over the sight Rhaenar had as she kept her eyes closed. "Will it make you happy?" He could feel the rise and fall of her head, confirming what he asked.
With a delicate precision, he faced Rhaenar and reached to wrap his arms around her. With his warmth surrounding her, her shoulders dropped the stress that had mounted in her muscles, her resolve weakening the longer Aegon held her. "I feel safe with you here." She admitted. "Like nothing can touch us."
That's what she was afraid of? "Nothing will ever touch us again, Rhae. I swear to you." Aegon promised, his head lowering and nestling her own. She dared to raise hers, heart pumping like a drum as her nose brushed along the edge of his jaw, the beard tickling at the tip. His heart stopped at the movement, as slowly his head lowered further towards her own, noses brushing noses.
Tenderness took over, a battle of nerves as indigo met midnight blue as one last check. Aegon moved forward first, his lips pressing to Rhaenar's as surprise filled her. It wasn't like other kisses she had shared before, but in a way, it was pleasant, refreshing as she let Aegon take the lead. He guided her with plump lips, his fingers gently pressing to the flesh of her cheek. For months, she had stripped herself bare from love and relationships, kept everything strictly formal, and for the first time, she was content being in his arms, letting him kiss her.
They were siblings, and to the eyes of many, that was wrong; but their way was the Targaryen way, if it had been a time when Rhaegar had lived and become King, there would have been a prospect for them to have married anyway. This was their home, their birthright, and they needed each other now more than ever.
Slowly Rhae broke away, a smile taking hold of her face as he laughed, bringing her back for a quick hug. "Let me finish these braids, you're going to be late." With a roll of her eyes, they returned to the vanity, a flush to their cheeks and a new bubble of excitement within them as they stole glances through the mirror.
"What about yourself? Don't you need to wear something more presentable as future King of Westeros?" The title weighed on him, but his smile never stopped knowing he got the girl he had wanted this entire time.
A booming laugh left Aegon. "You believe I'm not presentable?" The indigo swept across the loose bun fastened at the back, at the strands that fanned his face and the old tunic he had over his body.
"Do you expect me to answer with honesty?" Rhae teased. With a roll of his eyes, he began to pin the braids around the crown, careful with the bells as he wove them in. "Thank you, Egg." She said earnestly, his head raising once more.
"You're welcome." As the last braid came swooping into the pile at the back, he fixed them in place along the waves that were left around her waist, free to take to the wind as they surrounded her. She jingled as she moved, Rhaenar standing once more as she shot him a look. "Alright, alright. I'll get out of your way." Pressing a kiss to her cheek, he left her alone, her eyes trailing to the door.
Rhaenar was left alone once more as she stood in her room, gazing around at it. The chambers were once Aerys and Rhaella's, the respected Chambers of the King and Queen with tall windows leading out to balconies and a wide four poster bed. The sheets had been changed to those of the Targaryen dynasty, of roaring three headed dragons on a black field. Everything felt as it should be, that things were falling into place.
On the left hung the dress for her coronation, for the first day of being the true Queen of Westeros. Her stomach turned at the sight.
It had been made freshly by the dressmakers to consider every Kingdom of Westeros, to represent a unity as she would be presented to them. On the black fabric, the sleeves were embroidered on a white fur with red scales on both sides in the shape of those of a dragon. Along the centre, swirling up towards her neck was the Godswood tree, the red leaves plunging in every direction with silver branches as the leaves were left as appliques across the throat. Nestled in the free fabric of the bodice were golden suns for Oberyn, flames sprawling across her chest as she counted eight smaller and one large in the centre, a black snake winding in the middle.
But the back was what she adored, down the skirt's middle panel were waves of each sigil racing across a deep midnight sky. Golden seven pointed stars for the faith, birds and moons for the Vale, lions for the Westerlands, fish for the Riverlands, and golden petals for the Reach left to trail before falling into vines of golden tentacles that cupped them all. Rhaenar's hand reached out to touch the red Dragon roaring along the side panel of the skirt, and to the other side an equally red wolf. Both represented where she had come from, her mother and father who had brought her into this world.
Rhaenar's lips pursed as she took the dress down, pulling it up and onto her body before staring at herself. All the Lords of Westeros would be here today, the large throne room redecorated with the black skulls of the dragons was a wide and expansive place to welcome a new Queen.
Her heart thumped, her head turning to the door as the flesh of her back was left bare. She needed someone to do her up. As though her prayers were answered, the wooden door pushed open, Jon stepping in as a gasp slipped from his lips at the sight.
Rhae straightened. "What are you doing here?" She questioned, seeing Jon in his own regal armour, decked out in a thick black cloak and a doublet printed with a silver wolf to the side.
"I thought I would come see you before you leave." He muttered, watching as she turned to reveal to him the back of the dress. Hand sewn eyelets danced along the two edges, laces tied between as he blanched at the sight; it was a maze, a hard to unwrap present as he touched at them, understanding what Rhaenar wanted.
"You've seen me, now what." It was harsh, but she still hadn't forgiven him for his actions as she felt the dress slowly tug against her, pulling her in as the fabric began to close.
Jon sighed, he didn't know. Things had been so frosty between the two twins and he wasn't sure how to make it up to her. So he kept quiet, tugging line by line the strings on the back before slowly it closed, the laces left to be enclosed inside a chain mail piece as he helped to secure it onto her. "I just want to say sorry." He admitted.
"You've said that Jon, many times." Rhaenar cut him off before stepping away from him, the dress rustling as she turned to face him. "Nothing you can ever say will replace what you did."
He nodded. "I know."
"Then why are you still here?" Because, he wanted to be by her side, he wanted to go back to having that close relationship they had on Dragonstone, the same understanding before they went to Winterfell.
But Jon said nothing, shaking his head as he stepped away. "Sansa will be there today." A warning. "You don't have to talk to her, and you don't have to be nice; but I didn't want you taken off guard either."
Her eyes dropped as she watched him turn, hesitating at the door. "Davos told me what you did, how the North sacrificed some of their men to get the civilians to safety. How you almost risked yourself to save them when they were your people."
The grey watched her. "They're your people, of course I'm going to help them. You helped the North when we were in trouble, it was only fair I did the same." Neither of them spoke as they watched each other, feeling an odd sense of calmness between them before Rhaenar nodded and turned away. "I'll see you in the Throne Room."
And she let him go, her hands finding the vanity as she looked at the last of what she needed to put on. Mero's ring, and Drogo's necklace was all she had left, the crown already waiting for her in the Throne Room alongside Dark Sister. With a heavy sigh, Rhaenar slipped them on and stepped away, ready for the journey downstairs.
As she left her room, she was alone walking through the corridors; her dress swishing along the stone as she raised her head. Each step was another closer to what had been her fate, at the journey she had built; and despite already having sat upon the Throne, this time, it truly was her own.
It wasn't until Rhaenar reached the stairs, that her eyes fell upon her subjects. Maids, servants, and all manner of staff that had worked at the Red Keep were bowed as Rhaenar reached out, placing her hand to the bannister. A series of "Your Grace" echoed through the halls as her shoulders raised, her chin rising with it.
With careful steps, Rhaenar was slow to descend, their eyes following her as they lowered to their knees. A sense of purpose washed over her, settling inside as she passed more, continuing to the Throne Room. From where she was, she could see inside the double doors that led to her throne, to the bodies crammed inside and the people that were desperate to gain a look at their new Queen. Aegon met her at the door, his doublet shining in red rubies as he extended his arm to her, Rhaenar taking it with a wide grin. Together, the two Targaryens entered.
The Throne Room invited a sense of awe and wonder; at the Targaryen banners that hung from the rafters, at the wide red roses that filled thick brimmed pots, and the tall pillars of candles that cast a glow despite the snowy outdoors. Brought back were the Dragon skulls from the dungeons below, and added was the Throne do it sat taller than the ones before it. This wasn't just a reclaiming of a home, this was the start of a new era in Westeros.
Unlike the dark, solemn coronation of Cersei which relied heavily upon the use of the military, or the display of power that was Tommen's to bring about alliances; this was sheerly a welcome, a chance of hope as Rhaenar took to the red carpet beneath her feet.
Familiar were the eyes that gazed upon her, faces she had fought alongside, or against; some that she had chatted animatedly with or relied upon by their council. With most of the men that were there, she had grown to know quite a few of them until her eyes fell upon one most unwelcome but Rhaenar's gaze didn't last long as she looked ahead. To the metal dragon that had been made to bar the windows of the Red Keep, reminding them of who exactly it belonged to. "Stunning, isn't she?" Varys uttered as he turned to Tyrion, a proud look to his eyes at the sight of the Targaryens.
Tyrion glanced up. "Quite. She'll make a fine ruler, one we all deserve." He agreed, standing in his own red and black doublet, his Hand pin shining spectacularly against the shades.
"She's proved she doesn't need us, it won't be long before her husband takes the place of what we were, and we disappear into nothing by voices at a table." Not that Varys minded, his knowledge of what went on in the city was unparalleled, especially with Qyburn's spies now seeking employment.
"I wouldn't be so sure, she keeps us around because she likes us." Tyrion countered, the emerald green following after her.
"You say that as though you're sure." And he was as the eyes flickered away for a moment, sparing a glance at Varys. "She won't like it, but she's going to have to marry the King in the North."
Tyrion's eyes widened, the statement shocking him. "You raise that now? We said she could pick whoever she wanted to marry."
Varys swayed slightly, nodding to the Queen as she passed them. "If I'm correct in who she has chosen, there won't be qualms over this." And from where Varys was standing, he was correct indeed. "The North will only accept a Northern ruler if Sansa has anything to do with it, and despite what everyone thinks, we do still need the North for a successful winter."
"And your suggestion is marrying them?" Tyrion questioned.
"We've spoken about it before." Before they knew they were twins. "The Kingdom needs her, and the North needs Jon. We know they're blood, and that they're Targaryens. There is nothing more suitable for us at this time, than uniting them." Varys explained, watching as Aegon left her at the steps for Rhaenar to raise herself, standing in front of the Throne.
Tyrion glanced between them, from Varys to Rhaenar to Aegon to Jon before sighing. "You're going to leave it to me to break it to her, aren't you?" Varys nodded.
The Septon stood beside Rhaenar as she gazed out to them all, waiting with bated breath to begin. "Shall you cast a light in honour of the Kingdom to keep the Stranger at bay, with knowledge, an open hall, and generosity to those that are lost!" The Sept cried out, holding the candle to Rhaenar before offering the lit splint. She clasped it. "Do you swear it?"
Her voice was soft compared to his as she nodded. "I swear to keep an open hall and generosity and kindness to those who seek it to keep the Stranger from their doors." All eyes watching as she leaned towards the skull candle, and burned the wick.
"May he never find you!" The ceremony was an odd thing to her as the consideration with each of the Gods was expected of her, to guide her through her reign. "Shall you find the wisdom and guidance of the Crone for the darkest of times, for the best of the Kingdom! Do you swear it?"
The Septon held out the lamp, a small golden thing expected to be held to her lips, and to drink deeply as she gazed up. "I swear to seek the Crone for the Wisdom and Guidance for the darkest of times, and for the best of the Kingdom." The Septon moved forward, bringing it to her lips as she sipped from the spout, the rich wine running along her tongue before she swallowed.
"Shall you pray to the Maiden to keep your vulnerable safe, when you are expected to face battle, and open the future to bountiful prospects! Do you swear it?" He held a paper garland next, raising it high for all to see as they kept silent.
Rhaenar nodded. "I swear to the Maiden to keep my vulnerable safe when battle is upon us, and keep the future prosperous for Westeros for now and forever." He slipped the parchment over her head, sitting across her neck as her eyes darted nervously. They had only practiced this once, and the nerves were building upon her to get it right.
"Shall you be the Smith, the mender of a broken Kingdom, giving strength to the Kingdom that defends you and those of the weak, and forging a new hope for a crumbled country! Do you swear it?" In his hand he half a shimmering, glittering collar, a large hammer concealed within their set stones.
She cleared her throat. "I swear to be the Smith that mends the broken Kingdom, to give my strength to those who defend me and the weak, and forge a new hope for Westeros." The Septon rose the necklace high in the air, careful with his hands as he set it down upon her neck, pulling free the tumbles of pale beneath it. It weighed heavily upon her shoulders, bringing a new purpose to Rhaenar as she awaited the next, watching the Septas beside him as they held each of the last pieces.
"Shall you rely upon the Warrior to protect your men from their foes, to bring courage to those who are fearful, and victory to those who fight in your name!" He cried out again. "Do you swear it?" She could see Dark Sister now, waiting to sit in her hands as the polish blade glinted in the candle light.
"I swear to be the Warrior, to protect my men from their foes, to bring courage to a Kingdom that is fearful, and to reign victorious with those who fight in my name." The blade was held out to her as she bent, pressing her lips to the sharp, cold metal before reaching for the hilt; the sword feeling like one in her hand as she rose that little taller.
"Shall you swear to be the Mother to the Kingdom, to cloak those under your protection, bring mercy to those who beg for it, and to see loved ones with warmth and tenderness. Do you swear it?" Aegon smiled as the ceremony was close to coming to an end, excitement rippling through them all.
Rhaenar nodded. "I swear to be the Mother to my Kingdom, to cloak those into my protection, give mercy to those who ask for it, and see loved ones with warmth and tenderness even if they are not my own." A cloak of red was lifted from one of the Septas arms, brought forward. In gold, the Seven Pointed Star had been embroidered on, an ornate crown sitting in the centre of the star as it was unfurled, brought around Rhaenar's shoulders as though she was married to the Kingdom.
"And shall you like the Father, be stern and strong as the face of your Kingdom, be the justice that resides over all, and the wisdom to recognise when the Kingdom is wrong." The Crown was brought forward next, the same one Harry had given her that once belonged to Rhaegar.
She grinned. "I swear to act as the Father, being stern and strong for my Kingdom, to seek fair justice over all that reside here, and to hold the wisdom when I am wrong." Rhaenar promised, watching the Septon come closer before holding the crown above her head. She turned with him, glancing out to the faces.
Aegon grinned, as did Tyrion and Varys as they watched proudly; Jon just beside them with his own smile. "In the light of the Seven, I now proclaim you Visenya Blackfyre of House Targaryen, the Second of her name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm." Cheers broke out across the hall, echoing through the streets as the bells rang, signaling their new Queen.
Visenya turned in her spot, raising herself up the steps of the throne, passing by the sharp spike of the sword before sitting herself down; sword in one hand and lamp in the other as she gazed over them all. For once the Kingdom was at peace, men cheering and ladies clapping as they watched her above them all.
A Queen.