Chapter 11: A Dragon's Reunion

The torches danced against the walls outside the catacombs. Shadows shifting like some ancient ritual of the Old Gods, First Men dressed in furs and antlers as they cavorted in their godswoods - not like the Andals following them were any better or more civilized. Gods knew the man waiting among the shadows how civilized his brethren were. Jaime Lannister was alone, and certainly had much time to think about such matters.

Hollow, empty, the Red Keep seemed like a graveyard. Devoid of life, servants and guards fleeing like rats to wherever they could as the stench of blood and death managed to hang everywhere. So much death in these hallowed walls. Maegor the Cruel, wrists slashed upon the Iron Throne. Baelor the Blessed, starving himself. Joffrey Baratheon, choking on his own blood from Olenna Tyrell's poison. Aerys Targaryen… dead by Jaime's own hand.

And now Cersei Lannister clung to life. Shrouded in the land between life and death while her beloved brother plotted against her - all for the innocent being currently tucked in Jaime's left arm...

Jaime didn't even wait for Ser Boros Blount to reach for the door handle before he threw it open. "What in seven hells is happening?!" He demanded, seizing Qyburn by the collar of his maester's robe. "I better find out in the next ten seconds before I snap your twig of a neck."

Even the threat of deadly violence didn't wipe off Qyburn's smug ghost of a grin. The Kingslayer had been 'inspecting' the defenses of King's Landing just as the Goldcloaks informed him of a 'crisis' in the Red Keep. Whether Jaime was enraged at potential danger to Cersei or at having to be summoned to the Keep was unknown to Qyburn.

And he didn't enjoy things he didn't know. "The Queen was under great stress based on the failure of Commander Strickland to arrive promptly from Hayford Castle."

"That's because he set a path north of Hayford!" Jaime had received the raven at the Gate of the Gods. Marked for Lyle Crakehall for him alone. "They could already have been annihilated for all I know, so I ask if you have any knowledge of this… or is that why you brought me over here?"

"No, I have heard nothing from the army." Qyburn's slippers clattered on the floor as Jaime released him. "I require you because the Queen has gone into labor."

Eyes widening to near saucers, Jaime felt dread course through him. Not for Cersei, but… "What of the child?! Is it stillborn?!"

Qyburn cocked an eyebrow. "Her Grace has passed into a coma, I'm afraid. Labor was hard on her, given the age of the pregnancy. We don't know if she will wake, and I've assumed the duties of the monarch for the time being." He scuttled to a far door, opening it to reveal a mousy-haired servant girl holding a swaddled bundle. "Crown Prince Tywin of House Lannister on the other hand is in the peak of health…"

Looking down at his son, young Tywin yawned, stretching his little arms in an attempt to get more comfortable. Jaime felt his heart skip a beat. Tufts of golden hair, strong cheekbones, and green eyes beneath the red, soft skin of infancy, this baby would grow up to be the paragon of House Lannister. Only by his vow, Jaime would never let his precious babe be subjected to Cersei for one moment.

Muffled voices drew his attention, and he slunk back into the shadows.

"Are you sure it's this way?" a female voice whispered.

"Aye, this is where the fuckin' Imp came through to set up that bullshit dragonpit meetin…" The other stilled, peering into the darkness. "I know you're there, Lion Lord. Come out."

Sighing at Bronn's skills - though it wasn't necessarily a bad thing in this situation - Jaime stepped into view. Just as planned, next to him was the small, hooded form of Daenerys Targaryen. Dressed in worn riding clothes and a homespun woolen cloak. "Your Grace," He bowed slightly.

Daenerys eyed him over. "So it was you behind this, Ser Jaime." She should have known - reaching the babe in his arm, her eyes widened. "Is that Cersei's child?"

"Aye. My son." He gave Tywin one last kiss on the cheek, murmuring that he would hopefully see him soon before handing him off to Daenerys. "I can't let him grow up with Cersei imprinting her madness on him. And that favor I asked you…"

"Say no more." Daenerys cooed at the child, a natural mother. The future prince and princess would truly break the cycle of horrible childhoods for the current power players of the realm. "I owe you a great debt, Ser Jaime."

Jaime shook his head. "It is I and Tyrion that owe you a debt, your Grace." He produced a letter. "Give this to Brienne… please." Bronn took it, eyeing him warily. "The guards have been alerted to a potential infiltration near the tourney grounds, so the beach should be deserted. Good luck." Watching his son disappear with the Queen, Jaime hoped that he would fulfill the whispered promise he made to Tywin… while resigned that he would die here with Cersei.

Take care of him, Tyrion… please forgive me, Brienne. Ice blonde hair filling his mind, Jaime disappeared back into the Red Keep.

As morning dawned on the capitol, sun casting a blinding glare atop Blackwater Bay as it rose to the east, Jaime found a pounding rap on the door to his chambers. Brushing the sleep from his eyes, he rose - still clad in his silk nightshirt fit for the Prince Consort to the Queen. But just as he opened the door Ser Boros and Ser Balon Swann burst in, grabbing him by the waist and shoulders. Pinning him to the floor.

Writhing, punching Ser Balon in the leg before a kick to the ribs stilled him, Jaime snarled. "What is the fucking meaning of this! I am the Prince Consort!"

"Jaime of House Lannister." A glance up found a smiling Qyburn, eyes twinkling with mirth. "You are under arrest for treason against the crown. Lift him up." Taking the brunt of Jaime's death glare with good humor, Qyburn leaned in. "Such is the price to pay for the babe. Valar Morghulis." He smiled as Jaime was led away to the black cells, so looking forward to seeing the Queen's reaction to her lover's betrayal.

'Now let it work,' he thought with a smirk. 'My dear Chaos, take whatever course you wish.'

"Ahhhhh…" Ahead of her, Daenerys could hear Ser Bronn of the Blackwater take a deep breath. Sighing contently. "Gods, it's good to be out of the shit and rot of that damned city." Night had descended over the Crownlands, shrouding the forest road in darkness - broken only by the faint moonlight. "Worst city in the damned world."

Little Tywin cooing in her arms, Daenerys held the reins one handed - a skill picked up among the Dothraki - softly rocking the baby. "Have you been to any other cities?" Alone with just him and the babe, who else did the Queen have to talk to?

Eyes peeled for anything moving in the underbrush, Bronn clicked his tongue. "All of em. Oldtown, Gulltown, Pentos, Braavos, Lys… now that was a beauty. Never did make it to White Harbor, and I fuckin' grew up in Lannisport. All of em smelled like shit, but King's Landin' is the worst. Was horrible and only got worse now that the bitch is in charge." Bronn shook his head. "No castle is worth suckin' her twat. Not even fuckin' Harrenhal, and I'd sell my best friend's arm for that fuckin' thing."

Daenerys couldn't help but laugh, the former sellsword having a roguish charm about him. It was clear how he survived things that killed most others in his line of work - a quick wit that could bluff his way out of situations, and sharp skills that could fight his way out if the bluffs didn't work. Such brought them out of King's Landing, the bodies of many a Goldcloak left on the beach. Many a checkpoint or roving band of marauders waved off by a hardened soldier with a 'wife and child.' The days had been tiring and so were the nights, but with the Dusken River approaching, Daenerys envisioned the end to their journey approaching.

A quiet cry left Tywin, babe squirming in discomfort. "It's alright, little darling," she whispered, rocking him. "All will be fine." The sweet babe was drawing out her latent maternal instincts - Daenerys couldn't wait till she got to hold her own little ones like this.

"Why do you do that?" She looked up to see Bronn peering back at her over his shoulder. Quizzical look on his face. "That's the kid of the Lion Cunt and the fuck that murdered your father. Why would ya' fookin' take care of it?"

Such was a powerful question. The babe looked almost exactly as a male version of Cersei, down to the very eyes. All rational sense would dictate that Daenerys should hate him, but… Even being the son of her greatest enemy… he was just so innocent with his serene expression and milky green eyes. A symbol of the future, just as were her and Jon's unborn darlings nestled in her womb. "A child should not bear the sins of his or her parents, Ser Bronn. They have their own choices to make, while those sins were the choices of another." Many would have looked upon her as the image of her father, and Daenerys vowed never to do that to any innocent child.

The former sellsword snorted. "Never knew my father. Some second son of a prissy lord, never did catch the name from my mother - alls I know is he raped her during the fall of Castamere."

Daenerys felt her heart go out to the sellsword. "I'm sorry… no one deserves that." Her wedding night came to mind. "Was she a servant girl?"

"Ha, would you believe she was the daughter of Lord Reyne herself." He laughed harder at Dany's look of shock. "Yip, I'm of high birth, believe it or not. Little fuck it did me, though." Quite a small world… a world of pain and of sorrow. Was it truly her ancestor Aegon's intention when he, Rhaenys, and Visenya formed Westeros? That it descend into such madness where war and strife were the new normal rather than an aberration, or did their descendents not live up to the ideal in their fights with the old order?

Whatever the case, she planned on rectifying that. Uniting with Jon as she should have. Breaking the wheel together and finally building a kingdom that the conquering trio would be proud of.

Suddenly, the gallop of horses thundered through the forest trail. Snorting mounts and glowering riders circling the group. Dothraki. Their braids and curved swords were dead giveaways. "What are you fools doing so close to camp? Deserters from the Golden Company?" From underneath the hood that shrouded her features, Daenerys understood. Bronn didn't, but he knew better than to antagonize this patrol.

Bronn gave a disarming grin, but the Dothraki were not charmed. Yanking him off his horse and holding his arms tightly behind his back. "Ah… easy fellas. We're all friends here."

One screamer pulled the blade from his scabbard, along with a hidden knife. "Cunt must be up to no good," he barked in Dothraki. "Shall I kill him right here?"

"Do it. He probably was sent by the Lion Bitch."

"You will not harm him," Daenerys thundered in her precise, perfect Dothraki. Tightening her hold on little Tywin, shielding him from the harm and abrasiveness of the world. "You will take me to… Khal Aegon." There was a little hitch in her voice at that name, knowing exactly who it referred to. My sweet, amazing wolf… dragonwolf. Dany could just feel his arms around her again.

The two warriors looked at each other before bursting out in a guttural laughter. "Oh yeah? And why the fuck should we listen to you?" He crossed his arms over his burly chest with a smirk.

Scowling, Daenerys simply reached up and pulled back her hood. Revealing her silver hair and violet eyes. Baring herself to the world for the first time since escaping the Red Keep. Wiping the smirks from the warrior's faces.

Now, they just stared in complete shock. "Khal… khaleesi!" Gaping, they fell to their knees. Faced with the Mother of Dragons herself. The Queen that had emerged from two raging pyres completely unharmed - that had led the Dothraki horde into battle on dragonback. That had taken them across the bitter water to defeat the men in the iron suits. "Forgive us, honored Khaleesi. We are at your service."

Knowing they meant it, she let her anger go. "Rise, qoy qoyi." They visibly relaxed before her. "This man protected me and saved me from the Lion Bitch. He is fine, though keep an eye on him just in case."

They nodded. "Consider it done, Khaleesi."

Weapons handed back to him, Bronn chuckled nervously. "Thanks for that, your Grace."

"No problem, Ser Bronn. I do owe you for all you've done for me." Tyrion may have been an idiot for letting him have Highgarden, but a more appropriate Lordship wouldn't be out of the equation for his service to House Targaryen. All saddled up on their horses once more, flicks of the reins sent the party directly for the sleepy Targaryen camp.

Hood secured back in place, Daenerys made sure to not be spotted even if there were more than the occasional drunk gaggle of bannermen passing by - flagons in their hands and songs on their lips. Most of the tents were still, while Dany could hear the sounds of passion in many. All quite familiar to her from the days of travelling with the khalasar. "What is going on? Why the celebration?"

"Big battle, Khaleesi," one of the riders told her. "Khal Aegon rode on the green dragon and slaughtered the Golden Company. Men in iron suits from the west bent the knee to him. Been nonstop celebration since."

Pride and satisfaction surged through Daenerys. Not only had Jon claimed his birthright, but had fully claimed Rhaegal as his own. You truly woke the dragon, my love. She didn't know if she could have loved him any more than she did at that moment. Quickly translating for Bronn, he let out a whistle. "Lion Cunt certainly won't like that." Both of them were laughing within seconds.

"Khaleesi? Is it true? Is the Khalakka nestled in your belly?" Both riders looked at her intently.

An eyebrow quirked up, but she reasoned Jon knew what he was doing. "Yes, qoy qoyi. I bear the stallion and mare that will mount the world." At their brilliant smiles, Dany knew she would have to eat a horse heart in front of the khalasar… all for the babes.

Quietly, they had reached the tent of the King - Daenerys thanking the Dothraki and telling them to escort Bronn to a tent reserved for important prisoners. She couldn't believe her luck, not being seen by anyone during the ride. Not that she wouldn't make her presence known, but there was one person that she needed to see before any others. Tywin making his presence known with slight murmurs, Dany debated finding Missandei when a figure left Jon's tent.

"Pardon me, my lady…" Catching the violet glint of her eyes under the hood, Davos Seaworth's jaw dropped. "Your Grace…"

Dany quickly placed a finger to her lips. "I need to speak with Jon… before everything."

Davos was smart, and her simply being here told him enough of what he needed to know. Eyes shifted to the babe. "And who is that?"

"A favor… for Ser Jaime." She watched him nod. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all, of course." Davos scooped Tywin into his arms, holding him expertly. "Haven't held a babe in years, but a father never forgets." He regarded Dany warmly. "I was telling him about a small council meeting we're holding in about an hour, but he refuses to budge from his brooding. His Grace is in rough shape… please, take his hurt away."

Her expression softened. "I will." Sparing one last smile at Ser Davos, grateful for the man's almost fatherly concern for her beloved, Daenerys sucked in a deep breath. Steeling her trembling nerves, she pulled back the tent flap and ducked inside.

She stopped. Frozen in her tracks as the flap swayed shut behind her. Daenerys stared, mouth opening and eyes watering. There, hunched against a table from obvious exhaustion and heartbreak was Jon. Her Jon. Raven hair released from its trademark bun, loose curls brushing his shoulders - something she utterly loved and wished he'd partake in more. Off to the side, a set of plate armor rested atop a stand, covered in soot. Emblazoned with not just the Stark direwolf but also the Targaryen dragon. It made her heart skip a beat. He accepted it… he accepted our family.

Love and longing surging through him, she tried to speak. But no words came out. The Queen overwhelmed by the moment.

Hearing the rustle of the tent flap, head pounding, Jon was unwilling to even lift a finger. Even the slightest movement brought him physical agony. "I said I didn't want to be disturbed." He refused to look behind him. "Should I find men willing to obey my orders."

His northern broague wafting into her ears after so long, it sent a livewire through Daenerys. Her breath hitching, stifling a gasp. Eyes glistening with unshed tears as she finally was brought back to the man she loved. Her home. The entire moment felt surreal, Dany hoping to every deity that could exist that this wasn't some sick dream induced by her prison cot. "J-Jon…" Her voice was so soft, even she could barely hear it.

"Leave me!" Jon thundered, this time head tilting upward. Eyes screwed shut. Gods, Davos. Why can't you just leave me in peace. "GO!"

Don't wake the dragon. For years she had witnessed Viserys abuse that phrase to justify his petty, abusive temper tantrums. But only now did Daenerys understand the true meaning of that phrase. Her nephew, her love, he was a true dragon.

It filled her with strength. "Jon."

The King froze. Headache and fatigue, rage and irritation evaporating into thin air. That voice… He slowly stood, disbelief written on his face. It can't be… the gods are not that kind to me… Jon, trembling ever so slightly, turned. Easing out from his chair and desk to look upon the intruder…

When their eyes met, warmth returned to their world. Surging forth to envelop them in its soothing embrace. Dany stood shock still, unable to move at the intense gaze his grey eyes forced upon her. As wonderfully enchanting as on the ship to White Harbor, Daenerys finding him at her door ready to give in to their carnal lust and onrushing feelings for each other - only even more so now. Before a hesitant bastard, now stood the dynamic, certain gait of a King. Of a dragon, sending shivers down her spine.

By the gods themselves, he is even handsomer than before. An eventuality she had thought impossible.

Sowly, softly, Jon stepped closer to the ethereal silver beauty standing within the tent. Wishing to savor the form as long as possible, in case this was some cruel trick. That she would disappear upon first touch. His shaking hand reached up. Easing close to her cheek. His gaze meeting her violet eyes, brimming with pure adoration. Fingertips just beginning to brush the warm alabaster skin of her cheek…

Daenerys instinctively leaned into his touch. Jon's soft, firm hands left calloused from years of toil and strain, but still gentle upon her. Representative of the entire man she loved. Of her beautiful dragonwolf. Eyes fluttering shut. Enjoying the warmth and comfort his touch gave her.

"My eyes don't deceive me," he murmured, voice hoarse. "You…" Jon's breath hitched from emotion. "You are real. You are here… Dany…"

Her name on his lips broke her. Crashing through the beams that had held Daenerys Stormborn up for so long through hells on earth. "Jon!"

It would be known long after that Daenerys made the first mad dash towards her beloved, Jon's arms opening a split second later. But in the present, one moment Jon and Daenerys were at arms length and in the next they were pulled into a tight embrace. Flush against each other as they cried. Tears of sadness. Tears of joy. Tears of a weight crushing them for weeks and months finally lifted.

Sobbing, Dany buried her face in the warmth of his chest. Seeking out his heartbeat. "I'm sorry, Jon. I'm so sorry…"

"Shh, shhh," Jon whispered through his own cries. Breathing in the smooth scent of her hair. Lavender and vanilla, one that always brought him comfort. "I'm sorry too, Dany." The tears trickled down his eyes. "Please forgive me."

Daenerys pulled back, this time cupping his cheek. Gently wiping the tear stains from his cheek - though her face was likelier an even worse mess, she only had eyes for him at the moment. "There is nothing to forgive, my beautiful dragonwolf." Without further words, the King and Queen brought their lips together. Broken, empty souls now whole once more.