A/N: Hi everyone. Today is a sad day... the one year anniversary of the death of Game of Thrones at the hands of he worst writers since William Luther Pierce: David Benioff and Dan Weiss (believe me, Luther Pierce is bad; for D&D to be lumped in with him is fitting). I can't say anything good about the atrocious cloud of mustard gas that season 8 was, so I can only try to detoxify the bullshit with something actually good and fitting for the characters.

And thus here we are, a short story in the world of my first GoT fic, Empire of Ice and Fire. This will be a more fun and lighthearted story, which I think we all need.

Enjoy and review :D

The Mystery Knight

a short story by Longclaw 1-6

Chapter 1: Betrothals

Sword jostling at his side, Ser Samwell Tarly - or 'Little Sam' as he was more commonly known, an ironic name since he was at least only half a head shorter than Duncan the Tall had been - reached the corridor leading to the Imperial apartments. To think he would have been used to Summerhall as he was with Dragonstone, Horn Hill, and the Red Keep… but no. The place still tired him out as he tried to find his way around. But his mood improved at spotting his fellow brothers of the Kingsguard.

Well… brother and sister. Who were currently locked in a lazy fusion of lips and tongue against the wall… "Mance… Elia…"

Pulling back, the hulking son of the legendary Tormund Giantsbane had a scowl stretched onto his face. "You couldn't have waited half a minute longer, Sammy?" His fire-red hair only made the ire greater - a trait seen in all but Tormund's half-Dothraki brood, especially his sister the Lady of the Fist and head of House Giantsbane. "I was enjoyin my day."

A smack on the head was delivered from Elia Sand, trusted spearwoman of the Kingsguard and erstwhile lover of the Free Folk knight. "Sorry about him, Sam. What do you need?"

"Their Graces…"

"That we can't do," she shook her head. "They're… um… busy." First their parents and now them - all of the five were quite close, called the return of Rhaegar and Arthur Dayne, but none except perhaps the Emperor and Empress had as close a relationship as the twin Prince and Princess. "You're welcome to try and rouse them…"

Which was exactly what Little Sam did. "Prince Rhaegar!" he banged on the door in the tone of a close friend. "Princess Arya! Open the door."

Within, the eldest Princess of House Targaryen wished to answer her friends and guards, but was rather preoccupied by the rather needy tongue forced into her mouth. Plundering her as the same person's fingers were shoved down her trousers - working at her nub. "Ooooh…" she mewled, her lover's mouth moving to the expanse of her neck. "We have to stop…" Arya whispered.

"No," came the reply, licking at the creamy flesh. He smirked as she tilted her head back to grant him more access. Her words say stop but her body says keep going.

"Brother…" Arya ground out, biting her lip as the fingers assaulted the bundle of nerves. Pleasure shot through her, Arya bucking her hips. "We need to be elsewhere."

Crown Prince Rhaegar grinned wider, sinking down to his knees. Hands reaching to pull down her trousers just enough to expose her glistening mound. "I'll just have to hurry then." Gazing up at his beloved - the woman he had gone through hells on earth alongside - the Prince knew his heart was forever taken by the silver-haired beauty.

At his tongue finally tasting her wet folds, Arya gasped. Biting back a wanton moan more suited to a whore than a Princess. "Kessa… Rhaegar… paktot konīr," she cried in High Valyrian… along with other, unintelligible words. Arya ran her hand through his raven curls, digging her nails into his scalp. The contrast of his shaggy Northern locks and the vibrant purple of his eyes only seemed to make Arya wetter. Gods… he's perfect...

"There, my love. Cum hard for me..." Her mouth dropped open, lips quivering in a silent moan. Rhaegar felt her heart beating out of her chest as her hips bucked into his mouth. Her soft whimpers only spurred him on. "Fuck, Arry…" He lived for these moments, attention solely focused on her.

The knocking persisted. "Your Graces!" Ser Samwell was persistent.

"Hurry, my love… hurr," Arya begged, but as soon as his tongue started agaist her nub all cares were tossed aside. Rhaegar was flicking her clit, again and again, the world lost to her - hurtling towards her climax. "Brother…" One hand almost white as it clenched his hair, Arya screamed into her palm. Shattering massively, flooding his mouth with her juices. "Gods… Rhaegar…"

Licking his lips, Rhaegar stood and pecked her on the lips. "Pull up your trousers, love." Without hesitation he squeezed her breast and headed for the door. Opening it when she finally pulled up her trousers. "Apologies," Rhaegar told the awaiting Kingsguards. "Was… preoccupied."

Elia took a peek at the flushed face of the Princess and cocked an eyebrow. "I can see that, my Prince." While respectful of Arya's maidenhead in her status as the Crown Princess, both of them weren't exactly discreet. Unlike her and Mance, they needed to keep quiet and it was a pain covering for them.

Not that they truly minded - all three were the best of friends. "You'll have to teach me that trick, next time," Mance chuckled, arm going around Elia. "Need to make this one make those noises." Elia punched him in the side for that… given their history though, she'd be on her hands and knees begging for him by late afternoon.

Little Sam, on the other hand, blushed with his father's modesty. "If we may… the Emperor and Empress request your presence at the Small Council chambers."

Arya gasped, covering her mouth with her hand as Rhaegar's eyes widened. "Holy shit, that's this morning?!"

"Where's my squire?!" Rhaegar bellowed, equally panicked.

Eying each other, the Kingsguard chuckled. "Wait, let us help." Both men moved to grab the leather cuirass while Elia dashed to attend to Arya.

The Pack stuck together.

The click of two sets of boots echoed through the massive halls of the rebuilt Summerhall Palace - high winter residence of House Targaryen under the warm light of the Dornish Marches sun. Targaryen Household Guardsmen and Unsullied all bowed maids curtseying as the Crown Prince and Princess hurried from corridor to corridor. Direwolves following close behind in a casual trot. Ignoring the beautiful views of the sparkling lake or vibrant gardens that stretched out double the acreage of the palace itself, they rushed to make the meeting before they were late.

Too late… rather.

Sure enough the corridor just outside the Small Council chambers saw important Lords and councilors streaming inside. Much as both monarchs tried to appoint well-accomplished, shrewd women to their inner circle, trousers and armor outnumbered dresses by about four to one. Some things were simply too stubborn to change, even for the Lightbringer and Mother of Dragons.

One well-stitched grey dress - tight across the figure but modest in cut - belied the most powerful figure in the Empire not named Targaryen. Exactly who the twins sought to find. "Aunt Sansa!" cried Rhaegar, catching the Hand of the Emperor just as she was about to duck in the chambers.

Glancing to her left, Sansa spotted her niece and nephew. "Prince Rhaegar, Princess Arya, you're cutting it quite close." Nevertheless, she accepted each of their offered hugs. Besides her own daughter and son, she shared the closest bonds with the eldest of Jon and Daenerys' brood. "Don't tell me Edderon and Sansenya 'took' you on a roundabout flight again?" She chuckled at his own japing insinuation. Exactly like their parents, the twins could spend half the day on dragonback.

Arya rolled her eyes. "That was a misunderstanding, Aunt Sansa, and you know it," she said evenly, but with an edge of fiery irritation - just like her father, she was. "How were we supposed to know those monsters wanted to set up a clutch of eggs on the Dragonont rather than in the dragonpit as the others?" The prospect of another four eggs to join the eleven others had softened the blow of the then four-and-ten twins from a harsh punishment for disappearing for an entire day.

Nine-and-twenty, the Red Wolf of the North and Lady Hand was still one of the Realm's great beauties - but her blue eyes held lifetimes of shrewd experience. They trained themselves on her niece and nephew. "Are you sure it wasn't something else?" They can't hide it from me.

At that Arya averted her gaze as Rhaegar rubbed the back of her head. "No…" Rhaegar replied. "We were simply sidetracked with our studies."

She laughed at the lame excuse. "Sure, sure," Sansa grinned, eyes twinkling as she picked up on the signs. Just like their parents. The same look when they were late to some family function after… a vigorous assignation. She wouldn't embarrass them further. "Come on, let's get inside." They and the two direwolves passed between the standing Unsullied guardsmen.

All eyes fell on Rhaegar and Arya as they stopped just inside the doorway - Lord Commander Grey Worm shutting the door behind them. The harshest stare came from the two figures at the front of the immense table. "Rhae, Arry…" Their mother, Empress Daenerys Targaryen, First of Her Name. Even in a shimmering gown of blue silk that highlighted her ethereal Valyrian beauty, she still managed to intimidate anyone she set her scowl on. "You're tardy."

"The meeting hasn't started…" Arya began to protest, only for a raised hand to cut her off.

Such a hand belonged to their father - Emperor Jaehaerys Targaryen, Third of His Name. "Nevertheless, as Crown Prince and Princess, you are to show up before all others. We're both disappointed."

Seeing his sister deflate, Rhaegar sighed. "Forgive us, kepa… muna." Their eyes cast down at the floor.

When they looked up, both their parents were smiling softly - eyes radiating love for their firstborns. "We're glad you're here, now come, take your positions."

Passing by each of the assembled councilors and guest Lords, a discreet brush of their fingers found Arya leaving her brother, taking her placed adjacent to their father while Rhaegar took the same next to their mother. Across from each other. "Eddy, Sonar," Arya whispered, sit.

Eddy and Sonar nudged their owners with their snouts before resting on the floor - next to their father and mother. Nymeria licked both of their fur as she would a cub, while Ghost merely yawned. A wolf of few sounds from birth till now.

Jon nodded at his children. "Now, let's begin."

Normally about a dozen people given the expanded ministries that Daenerys and Jon put together in their significant reforms upon being crowned, the Tourney swelled it to over twenty, visiting Lords of significance from across the Realm allowed a seat. Arya knew that uncle Robb and aunt Margaery would both be here if not for still travelling from Winterfell. Even still, it was a sea of familiar and unfamiliar faces.

"Dear Gods, can't you get it through your thick skulls?" barked an irate Olenna Tyrell. She had to be nearing a century, but her mind was still sharp as a Valyrian Steel blade - each of the women in the Imperial family envied her here. "I am not putting yet another tax upon my subjects just so you can build roads to nowhere!"

"Lady Olenna," Sansa replied, once again attempting to put out a fire. "I understand your concern, but the roads… as well as the expansion of the secondary harbors at Astapor and Yunkai, are vital to the survival of New Valyria…"

A snort. "You think some farmboy along the Mander or one of those Dothraki bands breeding horses on my northern frontier give a damn about some lamb-fucker living halfway across the world?" Crabby as she was, the Queen of Thorns had a point.

These meetings were always the same - not once since Rhaegar had been inducted into the Small Council as was his right as the Crown Prince did they ever discuss anything above the mundane runnings of the Empire. Not that he hadn't had enough excitement in his life, a war hero of the Dawn, but he'd take some minor banditry or exploration over the boring shit these days. Looking across at Arya, he could tell his love was fighting a yawn as well.

Regardless, he decided to speak up. "Kepa, muna." Formality hadn't extended as far as denying their familial ties in meetings. "Perhaps additional coin could be minted from the treasury reserve."

Arya caught on, eyes twinkling. "I believe there is enough in the vaults to create one hundred million gold dragons and two hundred million silver stags." The past decade had been good for the Empire.

Regarding her children with a searching gaze, Daenerys nodded. I have a lot to be proud of them for. They would make great rulers. "I believe that could solve the issue without necessitating a raise in tax monies. "Lord Aurane, can this be done?"

"Additional coin can be minted as we speak, your Grace," offered Master of Coin Aurane Velaryon, legitimized bastard brother of the Lord of Driftmark. "But the Banks of Braavos, Lys, and King's Landing ask me to caution against too much."

"Explain," Daenerys asked. It was clear she knew, but the look in her face told it was more for her children than herself or the Emperor.

It was the New Valyrian emissary to the Council that replied. "The more coin in circulation, the less it's worth," Yezzan zo Qaggaz explained. "We suffered from a spike in prices once the hoarded riches of the longtime masters was distributed among the freemen. Hurt many shopkeepers and freeborn."

Jon nodded. "You will limit the minting to one million gold dragons. That should be enough to cover the projected expenditures on both the renovations and road construction for Essos."

Both men bowed. "Understood, your Grace."

Glancing at the twins, Jon shared a nod with Dany and turned to the Mistress of Whisperers - one with the skills to even outshine the late Lord Varys in the role. "Lady Baratheon, can you inform the council and the Prince and Princess about why we need the roads constructed into Lazhar and towards Qarth?"

If Arya Baratheon had any anger at her brother/cousin for using her title, she didn't show it. This was a far more matured Arya than the terror known before the Dawn. "Aye, the following has been kept within the inner circle till now." She cleared her throat. "The Master of Diplomacy, Lord Davos, returned from a voyage to Qarth six months ago. There, the city was under tension due to a civil war that had begun within the Golden Empire of Yi Ti."

"Yi Ti?" This time it was Lord Edmure Tully that asked, not the twins. Apparently age and maturity hadn't improved his mind.

"A nation past the Jade Sea, uncle," Arya replied. "My little birds… though I have no network within the Golden Empire, state that the ruling dynasty was usurped by a new one that proceeded to invade and conquer Asshai, as well as secure vassal states of the tribes around the Empire's core… now, the expansion has been checked when the previous dynasty rose up in Rebellion." She sighed. "Fighting is said to be even more brutal than the Emperors' War."

Her namesake hissed. "Aunt, are you saying we need roads into Lazhar as a means of troop placement in case of war?"

Arya glanced at her husband Gendry. "After consulting with the Master of War, I recommend preventative defense. The Dothraki can protect their grass sea, but New Valyria will need to marshal double its forces."

"And this is precluding on the expansionist faction winning their civil war?" asked Lady Tyene Martell.

"Yes."

Lord Robin Arryn scoffed. "Where did you happen to get this information?" Beside him, Robar Royce grimaced - he succeeded his father's unenviable task in shepherding the haughty man-child of the Vale. No other would want to be in his shoes.

Staring her cousin down, Arya gave away nothing. "Through songs sung by those observing refugees of that conflict in Qarth."

"Doesn't seem reliable to me. I wouldn't want the traders of Gulltown to run out of wine or silk if New Valyria is producing more weapons."

"Do you disagree with the Mistress of Whisperers? Or the Master of War?" Rhaegar piped up.

Looking down his nose at Rhaegar, Robin rolled his eyes. "What authority do you have over me, whelp? Respect your elders."

"He gets the authority as my son," Daenerys cut in, the mighty Empress finally getting through to the arrogant Lord. "I suggest he is the one who deserves respect from you."

Cowering from Dany's stare, Robar interjected. "My apologies, your Grace." He cleared his throat. "I believe no one objects to the Lady Baratheon's request, so may I speak of another matter of importance?"

Sharing a glance with Jon, Daenerys nodded. "You may ask, Lord Royce."

But none of the Imperial family expected what was to come next. "The Princess and Crown Prince are of age. I believe it is time that serious consideration be given to the potential of betrothals for the sake of the Empire."

Rhaegar stiffened - Arya's eyes widened and face paled, while Jon and Daenerys simply glowered with narrow eyes. Before any of the Targs could respond, Sansa interjected for their own sake. "You are out of line, Lord Royce." In truth, she was as galled about it as the rest of the family. If anyone had experience with being sold for political purposes, it was Sansa Stark. Neither her niece nor nephew would suffer the same fate. "Only their Graces have the right to bring this up."

"Wait one moment, Lady Hand." The voice belonged to Baelor Hightower, Master of Ships and one of the richest lords in the Realm. "That is not the truth. All of us on the Small Council see that we must ensure the stability of the Empire - the ensuring of a distinct line of succession is mandated for every proper ruler."

Daenerys pursed her lips. "You will not sell our children to the highest bidder… no one will."

"No one is suggesting that, your Grace." Formerly a minor official within the Iron Bank, Noho Dimittis was one of the few in that institution to speak loyally about the Targaryens. Thus, he was rewarded with the title of First Sealord of Braavos. "But as distasteful as this may be, stability is what this Realm is prospering under and it must be continued. Young Rhaegar and Arya need to be mindful of their duty."

And so it was argued for hours, every possible maiden and young bachelor discussed for either. Proposals ranged far and wide, from vigorous Lords like Ned Umber or the committed womanizer Harrold Hardyng, to a variety of second sons or even older widowers such as Lord Baelor himself for the Princess. Matters for the Crown Prince were even more outlandish - the Hightowers swooped in with a significant line of granddaughters of Lord Baelor, of which he had eight. Tyene's sister Loreza was considered, as was Yisilla Royce, both six and thirteen years his senior. The widow Alys Karstark also came up, ten years his senior, but the one that obtained most discussion was an attempt to reach out to the dominant faction in the Yi Ti Civil War for a daughter of theirs. Head off any conflict.

All through the discussion, Rhaegar and Arya waited for their parents to dismiss these attempts. To announce to the council that the two of them loved each other and would be betrothed to one another. It wasn't as if their love was a secret. Both Jon and Daenerys knew, not seeming to have a problem with it.

But it never came. Only one sentence from Jon. "We will table this discussion until the Tourney is over. Dismissed." Daenerys added nothing.

For the twins, this was the most damning of silences. Two hearts shattered at that moment.

"So Rhaegar really has Blackfyre? The Blackfyre?!"

Purple eyes twinkling, Saera grinned as the wild dragonwolf she was. "Would I lie to you, dear cousin?" Nothing made the Princess happier than impressing her normally dour Stark cousin. She would soon be fostering in Winterfell, and if it didn't mean separating from her parents for a year or more, she'd completely look forward to it.

Had he not been concentrating on this amazing piece of information, Jon Stark - heir to Winterfell - would have looked forward to Saera's fostering as well. "Where was it after all these years?" His parents had just arrived at Summerhall, and as the adults conducted their boring conversations he managed to duck out and immediately find his favorite playmate.

Saera shrugged, the two of them racing through the airy hallways towards the Imperial Quarters. "Golden Company probably. Muna and Kepa likely kept it "Kepa presented it to him personally."

Young Jon's eyes grew wide, both jealous and amazed at the same time. "Gods… my cousin and your brother wielding the sword of Aegon the Conqueror, of Daeron the Young Dragon." Stark though he was, as his uncle the Emperor he grew up avidly reading the tales of the great Targaryen Kings. "He is so lucky."

"You think he's lucky?" She bit her lip. "Arya got Dark Sister."

"Shut it, really?!" The two ancestral swords of House Targaryen… back with their rightful owners. "But aren't they reserved for the rulers?"

They reached Rhaegar's room, always open to his baby sister whenever she wanted… unless there was a tiny scrap of red cloth on the latch - gods, I'm not planning on walking on that ever again. "Muna and Kepa both have their own swords… the ones they beat the Night King with. I suppose now Blackfyre and Dark Sister belong to the heirs."

"Lucky, lucky, lucky. I wonder if Rhaegar would let me hold it."

"Shouldn't be a problem to ask…" Throwing open the door, Saera stopped as soon as she saw a both confusing and saddening scene. "Brother? Arya?"

Seated upon the bed, his legs brushing the carpeted floor, Rhaegar held Arya in a close embrace. His fingers softly stroked at her clothed back while his sister-lover sobbed softly into his tunic. He eyed Saera - their similar Targaryen violet eyes conveying more than words ever could. Tugging Jon along, Saera raced to the bed. Joining the comforting hug of her crying sister. Arya noticed. "Saera?"

"What's wrong, Arry?"

There was a hopeless sorrow in her grey eyes. "Everything…"

Tail wagging as they passed by him, Ghost's tongue drooped from his mouth at Jon's pets. Preening from the fingers ruffling is fur. But as the white puffball was apt, he licked at Dany's hand as soon as it closed in at her. Making the Empress giggle. "Goodnight, Ghost. My furry love." He seemed to smile back at her.

"Traitor," Jun mumbled at his direwolf.

"Don't blame him that he loves me more," Daenerys giggled. "Besides, he's too adorable to get mad at."

Jon opened his mouth to retort, only for the aging direwolf to tilt his head to the side, gazing at him with puppy-dog eyes. "You're lucky you're my boy, Ghost." Another fur ruffle earned a lick for Jon, mollifying him. "Good boy, stand guard." But Ghost only yawned and spread out on the floor lazily - the Emperor shook his head, chuckling as he followed his wife into their chambers.

"Dear gods…" Daenerys breathed, reaching for the glittering necklace and removing it quickly. Sighing as the ruby and sapphire jewels fell from her neck for the first time that day. "What a day." Their second set of twins - the beautiful three nameday old Princesses Daena and Rhaenyra - were just as much a handful as their first set… or their Aunt Arya. Dragon and Wolfsblood was not an easy combination to deal with.

Jon was equally quick, this time shucking off his belt and tossing it on one of the massive dressers - careful not to damage Longclaw. "These damn councils and court sessions suck the life out of me more than the Long Night did." He kicked off his boots, sighing in relief as his sore feet finally hit air. "We're getting far too old."

Sitting at her commode, the Empress began to untie the braids in her still vibrant silver hair, glancing at her husband of eleven namedays with a roll of the eyes. "Speak for yourself, Jon." He had taken to being called Jaehaerys during the formalities of ruling the Targaryen Empire, but in private everyone called him by his Northern name - the name of the man she fell in love with all those years before in Pentos. "You may be old, but I am still young and in the prime of my life."

Walking over to her, Jon placed a kiss on the crook of Dany's neck - making her shudder. "Says the mighty dragonrider that needs a hot soak in the tub after each time she rides Balerion more than half-an-hour."

"That was once!" Dany shouted back, ire up. "And we travelled from King's Landing all the way to Sunspear that time." The Emperor merely cocked his head at her as he untied the laces to his leather gambeson. Blinking, Dany sighed. "Perhaps we are getting a little old." Not a wrinkle on her face, but the years of rule were starting to tucker her out more. "Seven Hells, Rhaegar and Arya are six and ten… it was just yesterday they were so little, begging for you to give them a dragonride around my solar in Dragonstone."

Chuckling at the memories, Jon smiled wistfully. "We were at war with Joffrey at the time, so I wouldn't want the specific time back." He dodged a pillow thrown at him.

"Oh shut it." But Daenerys giggled all the same. Oh, my handsome japer of a husband. Normally so brooding and serious, Jaehaerys Targaryen, Third of His Name was a whole different person around herself and their family. She felt honored. "I know we have Daena and Nyra to enjoy those years again, but they were our first, Jon. The proof of our love when no one knew."

Playing with the neckline of her dress, Jon sighed into her hair. Inhaling the scent of vanilla and lavender that so excited him. "Betrothal offers…"

Daenerys closed her eyes. "It was imprudent of our councilors to raise that… but…" With the luxuries and power in their crowns, it also entailed a duty. One that could often destroy happiness as dragonfire could a person. "They are of age. Rhaegar will need a bride and Arya a husband." Reaching up, she weaved their fingers together. "If only…"

"No." Jon nuzzled her neck, beard lightly tickling Dany's skin. "That's a decision they'll have to make themselves… if they truly think it's worth it. Otherwise, we'll have to make the decision for them."

"I can't bear to see them in the same pain my parents were in." The stories of what happened to Rhaella Targaryen at the hands of Aerys, truly, it often brought nightmares to Daenerys at the prospect of what she represented to her late mother. "Our children will wed for love as well as duty."

"The realm is at peace. The balance of power is held by us and our family - they can afford to make love the main factor…" He kissed her creamy neck. "As we did, ñuha jorrāelagon." Not hesitating, the kisses turned into licks and sucks, Jon lavishing his beautiful beloved with sensuous attention.

Daenerys moaned in approval. "Ooooh… kessa…" Alone and without duties at that moment, she quickly found herself falling into the embrace of lust for her husband and lover. The only man for her… the only one she would ever love. Much to his displeasure, she quickly rose, turning to him - smiling as the protest died on his lips at the dark purple of her eyes. "I believe the time for talking has ended, Emperor."

It was as if Jon's mind turned to porridge as Daenerys unfastened the clasp and ties holding the dress up. Letting it fall to the ground in a pool of silk - revealing her completely body clad in nothing but wavy hair and a smile. "Uhhhhhhh…" was all he could choke out.

The Empress was proud of her looks, hair lustrous, eyes sparkling, legs shapely, and a taught stomach seemingly untouched by the six babes she had carried. But ever so, the way Jon gazed at her even after over a decade together made her feel the most beautiful woman in the world. "I take it you like," she added, leaning against the pole of their bed canopy. Cocking her hips to the side in a seductive pose.

"Oh yes," Jon murmured, blood rushing to his groin at the delectable sight. Feet carrying him till he stood only inches apart from the Valyrian goddess he called wife.

"Mmmm, my Emperor," she murmured, grasping the hem of his tunic and slipping it over his chest and shoulders - mouth watering as she marveled at the sculpted muscles that were bare to her. This man was almost unreal, so perfect in her eyes and by the grace of the gods he loved her. He was hers. Mine... "I believe…" Leaning forward, she kissed each of the scars dotting his chest. Loving ones turning filthy when she reached his pecs. Tonguing one of his nipples, a move which never ceased to draw a gasp from him. "You have one more duty to perform tonight, your Grace."

"Fuck…" Jon hissed as she pressed her naked body up against him, now kissing and nipping at his neck. "And what would that be?"

"A very important duty," she whispered in his ear, licking the shell. "Pleasing your Empress… I command it." Daenerys bit his earlobe, nibbling on it as her hand pushed down his trousers enough to wrap a delicate hand around his manhood.

And at that moment, the dragonwolf roaring and howling within Jon took command. Lust overtaking him, Jon growled and lifted her in his arms - Daenerys yelping as her legs wrapped instinctively around his hip. Her eyes gazing hungrily at how his trousers slipped to the floor, leaving him as bare as her. "How can you do this to me, Daenerys?" he husked from deep in his throat, crashing their lips together. Pinning Dany against the wall.

"Oh gods," she moaned, a flood of wetness soaking her cunt. The kiss turned savage, bodies flush together. "I can't wait, Jon." His masculine scent, dominating tongue, feel of her sensitive peaks scraping on his chest… it was too much. "Bed! Take me now!" But Jon refused to budge, teeth scraping down her neck as he dipped his head - hauling her further up his body, smearing her wetness on his stomach. Lips latching to a breast and sucking desperately. "Jon… bed… please…" Her voice caught, lost in the sparks of pleasure.

"No," was his only reply, devouring her breasts.

Dany blinked. "What…"

"Too far. Need you now." Still marking her pale breasts, Jon angled himself with supreme skill and pierced through her soaking lips. Spearing into her cunt.

Her mouth dropped in a wordless scream, head falling back against the wall. Oh gods… kessa… right there! The Empress fisted her hand in his curly hair, pulling it out of its bun as she gasped in pleasure. Another hand clawed into the muscles of his back and shoulder, begging him to continue. The thrusts filling her up so perfectly nearly made Daenerys shatter right there. It wasn't going to take long for her Emperor.

Assaulting her nipple, it grounded him as the pressure built in his cock. Overheating within the depths of his wife's walls - just as tight and wet as when she was a maiden deflowered. Since their illicit couplings in Winterfell. He pummelled her, wanting her to bounce as he speared her. "Mine… mine… mine…"

"Uhhhhmmm… yours..." she purred, rocking against his length. "I... love... you... Jon..." Dany moaned as she rolled her hips. Begging for him deeper. Lips quivering as he hit just the right spot inside her. "Ahhhhhhh…" She undulated her velvet heat around him, lost in her peak.

Leaving her now swollen breasts, Daenerys trembling in his arms, Jon dug his hands into her shapely rear and guided her to the bed. Hissing as he dropped her on the bed, still pulsing cock slipping free. They stared at each other, Jon licking his lips - Dany bit hers, rubbing her legs together. Her body was covered in a sheen of sweat, flush with a still burning desire. His love… his sin… his duty… "Get on all fours."

She shivered in delight. "Does my Jon want to take me like a wolf?"

His eyes darkened further. "My turn to command, Daenerys…"

At the lust in his voice, Dany had no choice but to comply. Seconds passed till she was in position - tossing her hair to the side, she cast a look back at Jon. Wiggling her ass and daring him to claim her… "Ooooh… Jon…" Daenerys' head fell onto the soft furs. Purring at Jon's tongue sliding up and down her slit. "Don't stop."

He just had to taste her. Puffy folds glistening with her arousal, Dany's cunt tasted perfect as always. Jon didn't understand why any past Targaryen would ever stray from the beds of their blood lovers - hells, why anyone would stray from any Valyrian maiden? Tongue mimicking the thrusts of earlier, he wriggled it in her pussy, enjoying how she screamed and writhed from his motions.

"I need… I need more, Jon!" All composure had left Dany - she was nothing but a woman lost in passion. "Fuck me! Fuck me like a whore!" Daenerys reached back to pull at his hair. "Fuck your dragon whore!"

How could he resist? Swiping one last lick from clit to opening, Jon grabbed his length and bottomed out deep inside her. Sheathing himself completely. "Fuck…" Only his tip had gotten inside before she clamped down like a vice.

"AAAAHHH!" Daenerys screamed, losing control when he began his thrusts. Jon was so deep, kissing her womb as he did every night, their passion having waned none as their marriage lengthened. My dragonwolf… He dug his fingers into her hips, punishing her with his thrusts and she loved it.

Everything seemed to blend together, the two fucking for what seemed like hours. Filling their chambers at Summerhall with the sounds of their passion. Jon reached up to grab her silver locks. Making Daenerys scream when he thrust just as he pulled her hair back. Mixing a delicious amount of pain and pleasure together - fucking her with abandon.

"Gūrogon nyke…" she gasped in Valyrian. "Gūrogon nyke... Gūrogon nyke…" Dany screamed when dragonfire erupted in her core. "Gūrogon aōha zaldrīzes!"

"Daenerys!" He lost himself at her walls contracting, desperate to milk him dry.

Daenerys writhed beneath him, toes curling and mouth open in a silent scream as rope after rope of Jon's seed spurted into her womb. Quenching the burning lust within. Give me another child… another little dragon to love and to hold… The plea only drew out her climax, shattering around his still twitching cock as they shook in ecstasy.

Sluggishly moving together onto the bed, Dany mewled in contentment as her husband drew the furs atop them, snuggling back into his front. Jon wrapped an arm tight around her stomach, ensuring she was flush against his front. "I love you, Daenerys."

Eyes closed, Dany smiled in pure happiness at his words. "I love you too, Jon."

"And I love your Essosi dresses."

"Of course you do, my degenerate Emperor." She was one to talk - Dany not shy about how she hungered for her husband when he donned his Valyrian battle armor. "I hope the twins can find what we have."

He kissed the back of her neck. "I hope so too, my dragon." Not long after, both drifted off into their slumber.

A/N: Even after so long, Jon and Dany are as deep in love as when they first met... probably even more in love :D

And we see Rhaegar and Arya as all but full lovers - the natural progression from where we spotted them in Something About Dragonstone. Not only that, but they have a little Pack of their own in their Kingsguards and direwolves... not to mention their siblings and cousins (we'll see more of them, don't worry).

Sansa makes an extra appearance here cause... she was another character completely botched. I actually liked her character, but the Sansa we saw wasn't Sansa, it was Dan Weiss being played by Sophie Turner... fuck Dan Weiss.

Our twins are already so desperate for their parents to acknowledge their love... what is Jon and Dany's angle here?

Next time, sparring and a dragonride, plus Robb and Marg show their faces :D