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The Dragons' Rebirth	By : StarLightMassacre Category: A through F > A Song of Ice and Fire Views: 40827 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Harry Potter or A Song of Ice and Fire; all rights go to J. K. Rowling and to George R.R. Martin respectfully. I make no money for this piece of fictional writing and never will.

Chapter List
- 1-276AC
- 2-279AC
- 3-281AC
- 4-282AC
- 5-283AC to 284AC
- 6-306AC
- 4
- 5
- 6
Chapter Warning: Extensive and numerous character deaths. Battle scenes. Blood, violence and gore. Human sacrifice. Graphic caesarean birth. Male breastfeeding. Child hostages. Mentions and threats of rape.

Last Time

Robert Baratheon started a rebellion that no one had anticipated and that they hadn’t seen coming and they were thrown into a full blown war that they had to fight and win before they could do anything.
It didn’t help matters at all that Harry had fallen pregnant with their second egg and just a few days after the news of the uprising came to them in Kings Landing, he had been forced to take to his bed and cut himself open, easing the egg out of his body and stitching himself up once again. The egg was locked in his and Rhaegar’s bed chamber, in a nest of fabrics to keep it safe and he had been forced to walk around with a newly stitched wound, every step a flaming agony as they prepared for the battle to come as they made plans, stratagems, and set aside the provisions that they would need for the coming war. They quickly called in their banners, their loyal families and their men. Then…then they had to fight. They had to fight for their lives, for their family and for their Throne.

Chapter Five – 283AC – 284AC

Ser Barristan was frightened. Frightened for the family that he had looked after for most of his own life, and all of their lives. Prince Rhaegar at four-and-twenty, Prince Haradarian at nine-and-ten, Prince Viserys at seven, tiny Prince Rhaegon at two and the tinier twin Princesses at fifteen turns each.
If that wasn’t bad enough, Queen Rhaella was pregnant and so to was Princess Ashara. Prince Rhaegar was off rallying allied forces from all over the realm while King Haradarian took charge of Kings Landing. Barristan watched him with no small part of awe as the sweet, young boy that he’d known flourished into a strong, determined man right before his very eyes as he ordered others to do this and that, doing everything that he could possibly think of to keep safe Kings Landing, while simultaneously laying traps for the rebel forces to take out the enemies of his family. King Aerys was so feeble that he had taken to shouting out very unhelpful suggestions that Haradarian would nod to with a smile, before, thankfully, completely disregarding in his plans.
It had been King Aerys who had started this rebellion proper, after the oldest Stark boy, Brandon, had come shouting for all to hear that Rhaegar had abducted his sister, the Lady Lyanna, who had allegedly gone missing from her bed at Winterfell. Rhaegar, who had been at Kings Landing for the last full year without leaving, could not have been the culprit for the missing Lady Stark, if indeed she was truly missing in the first place.
When confronted and told as such, the heir to Winterfell had refused to listen to reason, that was when Prince Haradarian had once again stepped in to prevent his Father from burning Brandon Stark and his friends right then and there for the allegation brought against Rhaegar. Prince Haradarian had spared them and had spoken to them at length and he had refused Brandon Stark’s demand for one on one combat with Rhaegar outright and instead he had had Brandon Stark and his friends seized and Haradarian had had ravens sent out for their Fathers’ to come and collect them. That had been where things had gone very, very wrong, as King Aerys had been the one to receive the Lords of the heirs who were imprisoned in the Red Keep and in a move that would truly start the rebellion and send many of their allies running to the rebel side, King Aerys had killed all of the boys and their Fathers. He had accepted the demand for a trial by combat from Lord Rickard Stark and in a very dishonourable move, King Aerys had chosen fire as his champion and he had cooked Rickard Stark alive as his oldest son was forced to watch, latched into a Tyroshi strangulation device, a sword just out of his reach.
Barristan had been forced to stand, with the rest of the Kingsguard, his sworn brothers, and they had to just watch as Brandon Stark had strangled himself to death, trying to reach the sword to save his Father, who had also died. King Aerys had then had a raven sent to the Eyrie, demanding that Lord Arryn gave up Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark. Jon Arryn had done no such thing, he had instead raised his banners and called his men to him, starting the rebellion fighting in the Vale, by leading his men against those who had refused to answer his call as they had remained loyal to house Targaryen.
Stark had gone straight to Winterfell and Baratheon to Storm’s End to raise their own banners and rouse their loyal men to fight. After that the rebellion had started in earnest and after the taking of Gulltown and the death of Lord Marq Grafton who had been a Targaryen loyalist, the Battles of Summerhall had been the first major battle of the rebellion, where three armies loyal to house Targaryen, (Cafferen, Fell and the family of their dead sworn brother, the Grandisons) had all been slain and scattered by the rebel forces.
Prince Haradarian had been so angry when he’d gotten back to the capital and found out what his Father had done with the Lords and heirs of several noble families, that he had shouted himself hoarse.

‘You can’t speak to me that way!’ King Aerys had warbled out after a particularly vicious tirade, his face a mask of surprise, of hurt and betrayal that his ‘sweetest son’ was treating him in such a way.

‘I’ll speak to you how I please you foolish old man!’ Haradarian had replied furiously. ‘You’ve killed us all! In doing this you have lined all of our heads upon a block to be chopped off one by fucking one!’

King Aerys had been so hurt that the beautiful son that he loved had turned on him so violently that he had demanded that Prince Haradarian be seized and imprisoned…but no one had moved. No one wanted to be the first to make the move that would lead to Haradarian the Heart being imprisoned, or possibly to him being burnt alive, and there was a moment of several heartbeats where Barristan readied himself to protect the boy that he loved like a son, even against his orders if he needed to, but like him no one had moved, not even a member of his brotherhood who were sworn to always obey the orders of their King, and it had become clear then that no one was going to lay a hand on Prince Haradarian. The young man had taken a deep breath, he had nodded visibly and then he had left, shouting orders for the city to be sealed and for as much food as could be found to be put into stores, setting up the city for war and people had jumped and run to follow his orders as he’d shouted them.
He ordered trebuchets to be made and placed all around the city walls and then he had personally escorted his Mother, younger brother, son, nieces and both Princess Ashara and Princess Elia to Dragonstone, where he had stayed for nearly three weeks while Rhaegar finished Haradarian’s orders in Kings Landing, while Haradarian made sure that their family was safe and secure and had escape options if needed on Dragonstone. Then he had returned in a blaze of shouted orders and plans, taking charge from his brother, Rhaegar so easily, so naturally, that it was if he were the elder one and heir to the throne.
King Aerys was done, as soon as his orders to seize Haradarian had been disobeyed and Harry had realised that people loved and respected him much more than his Father, that had been the end of mad King Aerys. No one listened to a word that he said any longer, he was just a feeble, withered old man and Haradarian was tall, young and strong. He had a solid, well thought out plan and people were willing to follow a man with a plan over a crazed old man who only wanted to burn everyone, and who had started this rebellion in the first place. Barristan was so proud of his boy, who was rapidly showing that he was no boy any longer, he was a man and a strong, intelligent one at that.
Barristan had been ready and willing to fight before, but now he threw himself into the battles, side by side with his sworn brothers and Prince Rhaegar, who was all but King now. As soon as this war was over, he would sit the Iron Throne. It was almost a certainty now that Haradarian had taken over Kings Landing from under his Father’s nose. It was very, very unlikely that he would give that control back once all of this was done. In fact, Barristan was sure that he wouldn’t go back now. He would give the crown to Rhaegar over their Father, but for now, Haradarian was the King, as he was ruling Kings Landing and directing the armies of their forces to where he wanted them to be and Rhaegar allowed it without a murmur of complaint. He read every missive sent from Kings Landing and he would nod and then share Haradarian’s plan with them in a war council in his pavilion tent and there would be no arguments from Rhaegar. Others would question such orders, and some of them truly were bizarre, but Rhaegar would follow the orders to the letter to devastating effect to their enemy.

‘Haradarian knows what he’s doing.’ He would always say when others complained or kicked up a fuss over the newest set of strange orders. ‘He has three Iron links for Warcraft, if anyone can strategise a war, it’s him. You must remember that we, this army here, is but a small part of a greater picture that Haradarian is painting. What orders he gives us may not make sense to us, but coupled with the orders of the three other armies, it could make perfect sense. We do not question our orders from the King. We follow them to the letter with no complaint or rebellious disobedience.’

So despite the strange orders they were given they would still follow Haradarian’s orders exactly as they were written and the royal army was winning battle after battle, even if their allies were not fairing quite as well. But Rhaegar’s implicit trust and faith in his younger brother was unshakable, not even when they suffered a small set back and were forced to retreat did Rhaegar once question Haradarian or his orders, instead he rallied his forces and he waited. A messenger would usually arrive within four days on a sweating, slavering horse with new instructions from the capital.
By the end of that day, Rhaegar would have a new plan from his brother and he would call another meeting in his pavilion tent to relay those orders and they would be back on their way. There was no denying that the team that Rhaegar and Haradarian made together was formidable. They complimented one another so well, they worked together so amazingly well, that Barristan would have put considerable coin on Rhaegar asking Haradarian to be his Hand when this was all over with and Barristan had never been more proud of either of them as he followed Rhaegar into battle on Haradarian’s orders.
It was an entirely different atmosphere being under the command of Rhaegar and Haradarian compared to Aerys and it was an entirely better situation to be in. They had more confidence under the command of Rhaegar and Haradarian, there was more morale, a better sense of leadership and they worked so well together that there was more trust in them both. It made them all, every single last man, want to fight harder for their royal family and fight they did, following Prince Rhaegar into battle on the orders of King Haradarian.

283AC - 284AC

Harry breathed deeply and he tried to hold onto his temper as his Father once again hovered around him and criticised him and everything that he’d done thus far.

“You should have kept the Dornish bitches here to secure Dorne’s loyalty.” Aerys scoffed at him.

“Those ‘Dornish bitches’ are mine and Rhaegar’s wives!” Harry snapped. “And we don’t need hostages to secure Dorne, they are already loyal to us.”

Harry stared hard at the massive map spread on the huge banquet table in front of him and he mumbled under his breath as he planned his next move. He had to balance out what needed to be done with keeping his beloved Rhaegar alive. He took no needless risks with his brother-husband’s life.

“You can’t trust the Dornish!” His Father told him. “I’d have kept the babes here too.”

Harry almost broke his fingers clenching his fist so hard. He was so very glad that he had taken the courage from those around him to seize control from his Father. When no one had moved to imprison him when his Father had ordered it, he had immediately seized the crown, and the control of the capital and their bannermen and armies, for himself and Rhaegar. If he hadn’t done as such when he had done so, then there was no telling what might have happened. He might have been assassinated on his Father’s orders already. Ashara and Elia would have been kept here at the capital, as needless hostages against their families and his children, his sweet, innocent babes, would be here too, kept as hostages by his Father, most likely to keep him and Rhaegar in line too, or perhaps just Rhaegar if he’d already been taken out and sent into the arms of the Stranger by an assassin.

“There is no need for women or babes to be here.” He said through gritted teeth. “If Kings Landing is attacked, and I fear that it will be, then they would be needlessly put in danger! They’re all safer on Dragonstone, away from the mainland.”

Harry touched his pregnant belly and he cursed himself for a fool as he had slept with Rhaegar the night before his Husband had left to lead the royal army into battle five turns before. He had prayed for just another egg, their third egg, but he had no such luck. He was pregnant with their fourth babe and there was a full blown war going on up and down the length and breadth of the Seven Kingdoms.

“I’d have kept the Lannister boy here too.” His Father sneered at him.

“Whatever for?” Harry demanded, rapidly losing patience, as he often did during such an advanced pregnancy.

“To tie up Lannister’s hands.”

“Another hostage?” Harry scoffed. “We do not need hostages to secure the loyalty of our own forces, we already have it. Tywin Lannister is being held at bay by indecision because his son is out there fighting for us! Jaime is a brilliant warrior and swordsman and he is fighting side by side with Rhaegar, killing the rebel forces. That’s what we need him to be doing, fighting and killing, not loitering around the Red Keep like a shade being of no use to anyone.”

“I need my Kingsguard! I need protection!”

“From what?” Harry snapped.

“My enemies are all around me.”

Harry sighed tiredly. “No one wants to kill you, you’re nothing.”

“I am the King!”

“No, old man. I am the King!” Harry snapped. “That is why no one is listening to you and why I have a guard and the city watch around me! Why don’t you go and sulk in your bed chambers again and leave this war to me.”

“You insolent little boy, I will have you burnt as a bastard!”

“You can’t do anything to me now!” Harry shouted back at him and his shouts brought Lord Connington, the new Hand of the King, running to him with several guardsmen.

“Seize him!” Aerys roared, pointing his nine inch long fingernails at him. “I want him burnt, here, right in front of me!”

Harry shook his head. “Just ignore him.” He sighed, turning and going back to the map.

“Where are the allied forces?” Jon asked, ignoring the raging, spluttering Aerys and coming to look at the map with him.

“Here, here, here and here.” Harry said pointing the four armies out, also ignoring his raging Father. “Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime are with Rhaegar here. I’ve got Ser Arthur and Prince Lewyn with their force here and Ser Gerold, Ser Oswell and Ser Jonothor are leading their forces here. Lord Mace has just sent word that he and Lord Tarly have smashed Robert’s forces at Ashford, but Baratheon ran with what was left of his men, heading north. We received the traitor, Lord Cafferen’s head as a gift from the battle at Ashford, I had it put on a spike on Traitor’s Walk.”

Harry paused while he looked critically at the map, before he laid his finger on one part, pointing it out to Jon.

“Our last intel puts Baratheon here moving north and Stark here, coming down south with his force from the north. They’ll meet in this area if they both keep to a good pace.” Harry said pointing to a new point on the map. “But Lord Mace said that Baratheon was injured, he’ll want to get away from Lord Mace’s host and he’ll want to hide. I think he’ll try to get as far north as he can to reach Stark first, that’ll put him about here. I need to send a raven to Ser Gerold and have his forces move to Harrenhal to try and cut him off and I want Lord Mace to lay siege to Storm’s End to put pressure on Baratheon with the threat of harm to his two younger brothers.”

Grand Maester Gormon wrote down his instructions before showing Harry the missives, receiving a nod, before he left to send the missives via messengers on horseback out to their respective battlefields.

Harry thought hard and he stared at the map so hard that his head throbbed with the strain. He thought of the gift that he was making for Rhaegar and he couldn’t see any other way around it. He couldn’t exactly ride out himself while five turns pregnant and he didn’t trust anyone else with such a precious, valuable gift as all the members of the Kingsguard were out in the field too. There was only one other option left.

“I need Rhaegar back here.” Harry sighed. “As soon as can be managed.”

“Is that wise, your Grace? To take him from the field?” Lord Jon asked him, sending him a look. He was likely wondering if Harry wanted him back here because they were Husbands, but it wasn’t. Not entirely.

“Only for a small while. It’ll be a flighty visit and he’ll be back to the field of battle. I have something for him and it can’t wait.”

Lord Jon nodded, looking down at his pregnant belly fleetingly. “I will inform Grand Maester Gormon. Will you be okay?” He asked, looking behind Harry to the still muttering and gesturing Aerys.

Harry looked at the rambling, hunched man and he sighed. “I’ll be fine, that missive needs to reach Rhaegar as soon as possible, Jon. Make sure he understands that it is of the utmost importance that he gets here as soon as he can.”

“I will, your Grace.” Lord Jon told him and Harry smiled at the added title, he was getting used to it rather quickly and he found that he enjoyed it too.

He turned back to the map and he swallowed hard. This stress wasn’t good for his growing babe but it couldn’t be helped. He could barely sleep, he couldn’t relax and he hated being away from his three children. His two girls would be growing by the day without him or Rhaegar there to see them and their Rhaegon would be three years old in just a few turns and unless Rhaegar and his forces could strike a decisive blow, then they were both like to miss their son’s name day too. That hurt his heart.

“I am the King!”

Harry about jumped out of his skin at the loud shout and he whipped around, his heart racing and his belly rolling over with fright.

“Will you piss off?!” Harry roared. “Get him out of my sight!”

Two of Harry’s guards leapt to do his bidding and they ushered Aerys Targaryen out of the room and left Harry to brood over the map of Westeros in peace. He wished that he knew how to hatch the five dragon eggs he had here with him, but he had tried everything that he could think of to hatch the eggs that he had brought back from Dragonstone with him, all to no avail.
He sighed heavily, feeling as if the weight of the world was upon his shoulders, and in a way it was. If he and Rhaegar failed, then their entire family would fall and their world would come crashing down around them.
He hit his own forehead with the side of his fist and he growled, trying to think of something else to do that would help in any way, even if it was something small, anything that could help them to succeed was needed.

“Your Grace, you need to eat.” Lord Jon told him, handing over a bowl of meat and vegetable soup. Harry hadn’t even realised that he’d come back into the room with him.

Harry nodded resignedly and he sat down for a moment, taking the weight off of his throbbing feet and he took the bowl from Jon. He ate in silence, repeatedly lifting the spoon to his mouth to eat almost as an automatic reflex. Perhaps a small break would give him some inspiration or an indication as to what else he could do to help in the war effort, not to mention his growing babe who needed nourishment regardless of whether Harry felt like eating or not.
The very first thing that he had done when he had taken charge of Kings Landing from his Father was to seal the city and get as much food into storage as possible, just in case they were cut off from supplies or put under siege. He had forbade anyone to eat more than they strictly needed and he led by example, breaking his fast on barley porridge, lunching on soup and then having a small supper of roasted meat or fish, vegetables and bread. Everything he was eating was offered to the smallfolk of Kings Landing and so far there had been little change to the morale of the city.
Of course they all knew that war was upon them, if the ban from leaving the city wasn’t enough then the eight massive trebuchets that Harry had had built and placed strategically around the city walls certainly would have been enough of an indication. They were being protected and looked after by the city gold cloaks and Harry had more and more missiles made by the able-bodied smallfolk each day, stocking up for when he would need them and at the same time keeping the men busy and off of their raging thoughts, letting them actually do something physical, something that made them feel like they were a part of the war effort and not merely imprisoned in their own city. It helped to keep their tempers and aggressions at bay, kept them physically tired and kept them involved in what was happening, thus everything was calm and quiet in the city as they prepared for war.

“How is the babe today?” Jon whispered as he ate his own soup beside him.

Harry pressed a hand to his belly and he bit his lip worriedly. “Still.” He said. “Very still. I haven’t felt any movement for a time. I don’t know what it means, but I do know that all of this stress is very bad for the babe.”

“Rhaegar will win.” Jon said convincingly and Harry gave him a small smile.

“We will win.” He corrected. “All of us working together towards the same end. We will beat back this rebellion and then all loyal men will be rewarded.”

“And that is why you are King and I am your follower.” Lord Jon laughed. “You know how to speak in a way as to make people want to follow you. They want to be near you and they want to fight for you.”

Harry didn’t know what to say to that, he was slightly embarrassed to have such a thing pointed out to him, and a little bit pleased too, so he finished his soup instead of saying anything, before he stood back up, looking at the map critically. He felt a terrible headache forming as he strained himself trying to look at the map from all angles, trying to will himself to see anything that he might have forgotten to factor in to the plans that he’d made.

“I need a bath and several hours sleep.” Harry complained under his breath.

“I’ll have it set up for…”

Harry was already shaking his head. “No. We can’t spare the water stores. But some sleep might do me some good.”

He sighed and turned away from the map.

“If anything, anything at all happens, or any more information comes forward, please wake me up immediately, Jon.” He said as he rubbed his head.

“Of course, your Grace.”

Harry nodded and he went to his and Rhaegar’s room, swallowing at the sight of the twin cradles that he’d had made for Haeraenya and Helaena. They were empty and they’d been empty for a while now. It made his heart ache to see them, but he couldn’t get rid of them, he couldn’t remove them from his room, not even merely moving them into Elia and Ashara’s room just next door.
He sat on his bed and took off his boots, but he stayed in his clothes. He stroked his belly and tried to relax himself, but he was so very tense because of the war, being separated from his three children, from his Husband too and his little brother and pregnant Mother. Then there was the pressure being placed upon his shoulders because of his three iron links, the need for new strategies, new plans and for those to be successful, for him to always be one step ahead, always knowing what to do next and it was relentless. Then there was the daunting pressure of having sole control of thousands of lives, lives that he was playing with every time he made a new war strategy, lives that could so easily be lost if he miscalculated or overlooked even the smallest counter measures that could be used against him. Harry sighed heavily, then there was dealing with his Father too, of course, which was a daily chore in on itself. It was just too much.
Sleep did not come easily to him, his mind raced with thoughts and plans, his heart ached with loss for his children, for his Rhaegar, and he laid awake for hours before he finally fell into an exhausted, fitful sleep. He didn’t wake up again until late morning of the next day, there had been no messenger, no ravens, no news while he’d been asleep, which was a blessing really. He hadn’t had an uninterrupted sleep like that one in weeks and he had definitely needed it, even if he had been a little restless and fitful at times.
He just had a few more things to complete before Rhaegar arrived back to Kings Landing. He had been collecting Valyrian steel for years now, since his youth, to realise his desire of bringing back a Valyrian steel blade to his family. He didn’t have enough Valyrian steel to complete the sword, no matter that he’d been collecting for years, a decade even. He fingered the links on his Maester’s chain and he sighed, slipping it over his head and turning it to look at the four Valyrian steel links. They wouldn’t add much, but every added inch of Valyrian steel would be a benefit.
He moved from his bed chamber and he waved away the guards who tried to follow him, heading straight to the cellars of the Red Keep. He unlocked a door deep in the cellar. It was the heat from the room that hit him first, from the one bubbling cauldron of liquid Valyrian steel and a second, red hot cauldron that was empty, but still heated. It had to be kept excruciatingly hot to keep the steel liquid and he only had one chance to succeed at this.
Never had he wished more that he’d done more for learning smithing while at the Citadel. He only had the one pale steel link, he knew enough to have earnt it, but he was not all that confident. Though no matter how many pale steel links he earned no Archmaester would have been able to tell him how to work with Valyrian steel, the art was lost. There were those who could reforge Valyrian steel swords into another Valyrian steel sword, but there were none who could make a Valyrian steel sword from actual Valyrian steel, which is all that Harry had to work with as he slipped his four links into the molten steel and watched them be swallowed up by the liquid steel.
He had put in as much Valyrian steel as he’d had to hand now, every last scrap of it, except for one piece. The dagger that Rhaegar had given to him for his sixteenth name day. He refused to part from it and the small blade wouldn’t give enough to make much of a difference. His links meant little to him, his dagger meant much and more because it had been a gift from Rhaegar.
He made sure that there was enough charcoal under each cauldron before he turned and made sure that everything was set up for when he forged the sword. The mould he had carved out himself was lying on a table next to the bubbling cauldron and he checked it for the hundredth time, making sure that there were no nicks or bumps in the mould that would compromise the integrity of the sword once it was forged, he made sure that his measurements were perfect and he checked the length of the blade. It would be shorter than a normal sword, but that couldn’t be helped as he had no more steel to use and he would not mix metals and make the sword impure and weaker, just for the sake of a bit of added length. He had already carved the beautiful, intricate hilt out of dragonbone taken from one of the dragon skulls. He felt dirty for having carved out parts of his ancestors’ dragons, but he had used the skull of the very last dragon. The small, sickly, stunted one. He would never have even entertained the dreams of using the bone of Meraxes, Vhagar or Balerion the Black Dread, his respect for them was just too great.
He had been folding the molten metal often, tipping it from one red hot cauldron to a second red hot cauldron and he’d been forcing the connection that he had with the godswood to imbue the molten metal with the energy that he felt in the godswood. He didn’t know if it would be the same as how true Valyrians’ made their steel before the Doom, but he had no way of knowing, but he reasoned that he had to have this energy, this form of magic, for a reason and he knew that Valyrian steel couldn’t be made because it needed magic to make it stronger, to make it true Valyrian steel. He hoped that he was doing it right, that he was making a true Valyrian steel sword or this was all for nought.
It was exhausting and draining to do this, because it usually took hours of sitting in a godswood to gain the connection, but forcing it as he was, it was unnatural and it didn’t come easy, but it was doable if he forced himself to concentrate on the feeling that he had whenever he was in the godswood. He had been spending a lot of time in the godswood recently, begging the gods to keep Rhaegar safe, to keep his family safe, and it was in such a full bloom that the smell of dragon’s breath was all over the Red Keep and every single flower and tree was in bloom and at the peak pinnacle of life. It was beautiful and the energy, the magic he held, came so much quicker, so much easier when he went there these days that he was actually slipping into light trances and seeing images and flickers as he dreamt. He was convinced that these dreams were sent to him by the gods and it was those images that he was following as he made the Valyrian steel sword.
He got to work for the morning, folding the steel over on itself by pouring it from one red hot cauldron to another, using his magic to lift the heavy, red hot vats to pour the steel and he sweated, concentrating as hard as he could to achieve this and when he could do absolutely no more and his concentration wobbled, almost causing the heavy cauldron of molten steel to tip, he had to stop and catch his breath. His chest felt like it was being crushed and he gasped for every breath, swiping his forehead with his arm. He was pushing himself too hard and he laid a hand over his swelling belly. He had no idea the effect that this was having upon his babe and he was scared that the energy he was using was harming his unborn babe, who was so very still inside of him after his Rhaegon, who had kicked at his insides day and night, and his twin girls, who had to have been wrestling with each other inside of him from what he’d felt when carrying them.
He looked into the sluggishly bubbling mass of molten steel and he closed his eyes. This had to be done and he only had a few more days to finish forging the sword for Rhaegar. He couldn’t pander to himself or to his unborn babe, he just had to hope and pray to the gods for the best, but he couldn’t lose Rhaegar, not when there was something that he could do. He rubbed his belly, hoping to coax his babe into movement but he felt nothing. He pushed away his fears and his urge to start sobbing. This was for Rhaegar and it needed to be done.

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Harry felt weak-kneed when he received word that Rhaegar’s host had camped under the walls of Kings Landing. He immediately gave orders for Rhaegar to be let through the sealed gates and into the city, and then for him to be let through the sealed bronze gates and into the Red Keep.
Rhaegar arrived at the Red Keep swiftly with the two members of the Kingsguard who had been with him, Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime, protectively at his back. They were led straight to the Great Hall where Harry had set up his war council and spent all day staring at the map of Westeros.
Harry moved forward immediately and he embraced his Husband tightly and he almost started sobbing from a combination of his utter relief and his building stress and fear.

“What was so important that you dragged me all the way back to Kings Landing?” Rhaegar asked him seriously, looking deeply into the green eyes that he had fallen in love with, trying to find something wrong, something that had happened to him. He had been worriedly thinking of something awful happening to Harry or their babe, but Harry was unharmed as far as he could see and he was still obviously pregnant to his eyes.

Harry did look awful though, as he looked him over more critically, it seemed like he hadn’t slept in a full turn, and that made him worry deeply for his beloved Husband who was now six turns pregnant with their fourth child. His Husband could birth as early as the next turn and that terrified him, that his Husband could be forced to birth alone without him there. That he could easily lose him because he wasn’t there to help steady Harry’s hands. It kept him awake at night as he stared up at the fabric of his tent, wondering if Harry had given birth that day, if he had possibly gone into labour and had maybe died because he was away at war and not where he was meant to be, by Harry’s side. If Harry did go into early labour and then died as a consequence, then no force in the seven hells would be able to stop him from exacting his revenge upon those responsible for taking him away from his Husband’s side.
Harry looked Rhaegar over just as critically, with a more medical eye, and though he was filthy, bloody, muddy and he absolutely stank of stale sweat, he seemed fine. He was smiling widely at him, even if it was a little tiredly, and Harry smiled with him, even if his smile was rather tenuous and forced in return.

“I have a present for you.” Harry told him in a croak, his throat very sore from working so closely to the heat of his ramshackle forge that wasn’t properly ventilated.

“And it couldn’t have waited until after the war?”

Harry laughed bitterly. “No, it’s a present for the war.” He said seriously.

He turned to the table that the map was laid on. He lifted the present, that he’d covered with a cloth and that he’d placed near at hand, so that he could keep his eyes on it at all times just to ensure that it couldn’t go missing, and the distinctive shape of a sword was visible as he turned and held it out to his brother-husband.

“A new sword?” Rhaegar asked curiously.

“Not just any sword.” Harry replied with a tired smile.

Rhaegar pulled the cloth off and he gasped as the dark, rippled blade was exposed to the light streaming through the windows.

“A Valyrian steel blade. Where did you even get this?” Rhaegar asked breathlessly as he picked it up reverently and swung it around carefully, testing it in his grip, for its balance and weight. “Is this hilt dragonbone? Did you make this?”

“I made it for you. It’s perfectly balanced for your grip, the handle fits perfectly for your hands and it’s suited for your style. Everyone forgets that I studied smithing at the Citadel, I know well how to forge a sword. The only thing really wrong with this particular sword is that it’s slightly shorter than it should be. I ran out of Valyrian steel.”

Rhaegar’s head snapped up and he automatically looked at Harry’s Maester chain, which was several links shorter than it had used to be. “You used your own Valyrian steel links? Harry, I said that you shouldn’t.”

“I didn’t get enough steel in time and I didn’t want to use the dagger that you bought for my sixteenth name day.” Harry smiled. “I don’t mind losing the four Valyrian steel links.”

“You earned those links through hard work, intelligence and pain!”

“And now a small piece of me will be with you, in that blade.” Harry smiled.

“How did you get enough Valyrian steel?” Jaime Lannister asked as he all but devoured the blade with his gaze. The Lannister ancestral sword, Brightroar, had gone missing with King Tommen the second, before Aegon had conquered Westeros, when he had sailed to Valyria after the Doom to search for wealth and the secrets of the Valyrian Freehold. He had never returned.

“I bought as much Valyrian steel as I could find, daggers, brooches, amulets, jewellery anything made from Valyrian steel from all over Westeros and I even sent envoys to Essos for any scrap Valyrian steel, and broken pieces too. I only needed the steel, so I’d remove the handles, the gemstones and such and secured the steel in a safe place. I’ve been collecting for years, since I was a young boy, as I have always wanted to bring a Valyrian steel sword back to my family, it was always my dream and now I have realised it. It is not quite a bastard sword, but it is lengthier than a longsword, so truly it is a bastard, bastard sword, but I really couldn’t wait any longer, the need for it was too great. I forged this sword myself, I carved out the hilt myself, just for you, brother. I finally finished it yesterday afternoon. Kill them all, Rhaegar and then come back to us.”

Rhaegar pulled him in close and he didn’t care who was watching, he kissed Harry, his Husband, full on the mouth in front of everyone.

“I love you.” He declared loudly and passionately.

“I love you too.” Harry said with a wide grin.

“What…what’s going on?” Ser Barristan asked, his eyes wide with shock.

“We’ll discuss the war first.” Harry said firmly.

“No, I want to know what that was!” Jaime demanded looking disgusted with them both.

“It is none of your business, you are a member of the Kingsguard! It is not for you to question us about anything that we do. Remember your place!” Rhaegar snapped at him.

He followed Harry over to the table, where little figures, carved from precious stones, in the house sigils decorated the map, marking the places where the various armies were located according to the latest information that Harry had recieved.

“Baratheon was here, at Stony Sept.” Harry informed Rhaegar pointing to the carved black stag. “I sent Ser Gerold and his force to Harrenhal as Mace Tyrell had told me that Robert was injured and heading north. I knew that Stark was coming down south from Winterfell and I guessed correctly that Robert would go as far north as he could and then hide. I thought he’d get up further than Stony Sept, but he was slower than I calculated and I wasn’t too far off. Ser Gerold took the town by force, but Hoster Tully has decided to declare for Baratheon because his oldest daughter, Brandon Stark’s ex-betrothed, Catelyn Tully, has been married to Eddard Stark. She’s staying at Riverrun, but her new Husband also swept into Stony Sept at the same time, joined by Jon Arryn. They were outnumbered and Ser Gerold retreated in good order.”

“Was he injured?” Rhaegar asked.

“No. They lost several dozen men, but Ser Gerold, Ser Oswell and Ser Jonothor are all alive and uninjured, thank all the gods. Their force is still intact and they’ve pulled back down, over the Goldroad, and closer to Tumbleton. I’ve sent them instructions to pull closer to Kings Landing, as you and your force are here too. I want you to both join up, under your command, Rhaegar. Baratheon is going north again, I firmly believe that he’s heading for the Eyrie because he’s injured. I need you to cut him off at the Trident, if he reaches the Eyrie, they can hole up there and we’ll never get him. This rebellion of his will be dragged out and we can’t afford to let that happen.”

“He’ll be closer to the Trident than we are if he’s travelling from Stony Sept.”

Harry shook his head in disagreement. “You have to remember that he’s injured, Rhaegar, and if his pace from Ashford to Stony Sept is any indication, then he’s moving at a half pace, he’s not going to be moving quickly and it’s not a smooth path from Stony Sept either, all you and your force have to do is travel straight down the Kingsroad. I’ve already sent a message to Ser Arthur and Prince Lewyn to bring their force over from the south of the Red Fork after they’ve completed their newest task. They’ll reach the Trident first if I’ve worked this out properly, then if Baratheon arrives second, he won’t have a clear path through to the Eyrie, but you need to get there quickly as Baratheon’s force is bigger than Ser Arthur’s. He can’t be allowed to pass the Trident, Rhaegar. You need to finish him off now, while he’s injured.”

“I’ll get there and I’ll stop him.” Rhaegar promised viciously.

“You’re not going looking like that.” Harry told him sternly. “You’re a King now. I’ve had new armour forged for you.”

“This plate is perfectly adequ…”

“Adequate won’t cut it!” Harry snapped. “It has to be the strongest armour that can be found for you. I won’t risk you. This war has been going on for almost a full year, nine whole turns, Rhaegar, I want it over with before our Rhaegon’s third name day, we’ve already missed so much of our children’s lives, this ends now. Kill this would be usurper and end this rebellion that the filthy old man started!”

“I expected to see him, where is he?” Rhaegar questioned.

“He’s been confined to his damned bed chambers and kept well out of my way. He tried to set me on fire the day before yesterday!” Harry said incredulously. “He hid under the table like a child and he tried to set my tunic on fire with a torch!”

“I…I don’t even know what to say, I’m speechless. Are you alright?”

“I was unharmed.” Harry said softly, lifting a hand to play with his Maester’s chain. “I confined him to his rooms after that, he was just getting in the way. He actually told me that he would have kept Elia, Ashara and the children here as hostages against Dorne! If Kings Landing is attacked then they would all be placed in needless danger. I’m not having it, Rhaegar. Getting them over to Dragonstone was the first thing that I did!”

“I would have done the very same, you did well by them. I’m proud of you.”

Harry smiled and he hugged Rhaegar tightly. “I just want you to be safe now, you’re in so much danger out there facing the enemy. Stay safe, Rhaegar and come back to me.”

“Always, my love.”

They kissed again and Harry swallowed, trying to absorb Rhaegar’s presence while he had it. He’d never feared for them before, not more than the usual crazed people who wanted to attack one of them for whatever reason that was, for whatever grievance they had against the crown or the royal family, but he’d never had to fear for one of them being killed. He didn’t like living in constant fear, lying awake at night wondering where Rhaegar was, if he was injured, had he been killed in that day’s fighting. It was agony.

“Did you write to my Father?” Jaime asked.

Harry nodded. “I did. All we’ve received from Casterly Rock, and from the Twins for that matter, is silence. They’ve either decided to remain neutral, or they’re going to pick a side when it looks like one side will come out as the victor.”

“Does that bother you?”

“It is not our place to question such things.” Ser Barristan coached sternly. “You are a member of the Kingsguard now, not a member of house Lannister.”

“It’s alright, Ser. He is young yet and new to the Kingsguard. He will learn to keep his mouth shut in time.” Harry said, staring hard at the young man before him, just a year younger than himself. “It doesn’t bother me, if they choose to remain neutral, that is perfectly fine. I expected it of Lord Frey, he has done the same with every war, rebellion or civil dispute. If they decide to join late, because one side has won a clear, decisive victory and the end is nigh, they will get nothing. No reward, no spoils, no recognition, nothing. Neutrality is one thing, being a craven and joining a war at the end is entirely another. I would much prefer it if someone stayed completely out of things rather than trying to pretend that they’d been fighting for the victorious side all along.”

“You have been doing so well.” Lord Jon Connington said, coming in with a few goblets of very weak, watered down wine, handing them out to each man.

“This is disgusting.” Rhaegar complained, even as he drank it down greedily.

Harry chuckled. “I am on the very same provisions as the smallfolk.” He said proudly. “What they have, I have. Our food stores aren’t even half depleted yet and everyone is eating well. There have been no price hikes, no fights or murders over food, the price of an apple is still three pennies. They don’t have fine wine down in the city, I don’t have any here. We’re all drinking very watered down wine at a ratio of three parts water to one part wine. But I wanted to show solidarity. They are suffering, so I am suffering with them. I am not feasting up in the Red Keep while they squabble over a rotted fish or wormy fruit. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“It’s true.” Jon said proudly. “We’re all eating the same and thus Haradarian’s laws are upheld and his peace is kept. The smallfolk sing his praises and hail him in the Sept as the trueborn son of the Mother herself. He can do no wrong in their eyes.”

“And our food stores are holding steady.” Harry pointed out with a smile. “Of course Father demands a feast every night and complains that he wants suckling pig and stuffed duck in orange sauce, but no one is listening to him anymore. Fresh bread is rationed though, to protect the grain stores, but there have been minimal complaints about that in the face of the larger threat of the war.”

“I have never been prouder of you, Haradarian.” Rhaegar told him seriously.

“I wish I was with you, but I understand that my condition doesn’t allow for it. I am more use here, where I can strategise and plan ahead and put my links to good use. All the information comes straight to me, so I can immediately work on a new plan to try and counteract the rebel forces.”

“Have you been taking care of yourself?” Rhaegar demanded seriously.

“Yes, Rhaegar. I’ve been fine. Overly stressed and worried to the seven hells, but I’ve been eating three times a day and resting too.”

Rhaegar’s shoulders sagged with relief, but Jon ruined that small bit of relief.

“You haven’t been sleeping though.” He pointed out.

“What? Why not?!” Rhaegar demanded.

Harry gave him a deadpan glare. “Take a stab in the dark, Rhaegar. What is happening around us that might make it a little more difficult than usual for me to get to sleep? By the Seven you’re a lovable idiot sometimes.”

“You can’t keep skipping sleep.” His Husband told him seriously.

“I know. It’s difficult though, and most of the messengers I send out only travel at night so as to avoid detection or capture, so that’s when I get most of the messages back and then I need to act swiftly and send out new orders, I haven’t had the time to stop and sleep.”

“Can you try and get a bit more sleep for me?” Rhaegar asked.

“You being out there in battle is mostly the reason that I can’t sleep in the first place!” Harry raged, his Mother’s madness rearing up as quick as a lightning flash. Harry sighed and tugged at his Maester’s chain again, calming himself. “Yes, I can try. There are some herbs that can help relax the body and aid in falling asleep. I’ll see about taking some.”

Rhaegar kissed his forehead and he looked back at the map, where the ruby, three headed dragon that marked his own position had been moved back to Kings Landing. He narrowed his eyes when he spotted what Harry had. Baratheon was moving up north, where he would pass by Acorn Hall, and then he’d have to veer off right, past Raventree Hall towards the Kingsroad, then past Darry and then over the ford of the Trident by the crossroad’s inn (the only part of the Trident that was at all fordable) and over to the Eyrie, where he could hide out for as long as he wanted while he recovered from his injuries received at Ashford.

“You see the problem.” Harry sighed, pointing out the right fork at the crossroads that Baratheon would take to the Eyrie. “As soon as he gets to The Bloody Gate, then that’s it, we’ve lost him.”

“Baratheon is not a man to run away from a fight. He’s no craven and he’s hot-headed too.”

“No, he’s not, but he’s injured, Rhaegar. The wounds he has are going to need seeing to and camp medics can only do so much, he needs a Maester. We’ve cut him off from Storm’s End and Mace has it under siege, he can’t go there. He will never reach Winterfell in time and that’s only if Lord Frey opens the Twins to him and there is very little doubt in my mind that Lord Frey will join the war at this early stage, he is not a man to be moved into action when the outcome is so unclear. There has been no sign of Casterly Rock joining the war so the Westerlands are closed off, his only option is the Eyrie and the protection of Jon Arryn. We can’t storm it, we can’t take it by force as he’s recovering from his injuries, it’s the perfect place for him to recover. I suppose we could always hope that his donkey slips under his weight and sends him falling to his death down that damnable mountain, but we can’t rely on mere chance, we have to be sure. He cannot make it over the Trident. We can’t let him get past The Bloody Gate.”

“I understand, he won’t get past me. Not while I still live.” Rhaegar swore.

Harry took a deep breath and he pushed away the horrid thoughts that that conjured up in his mind.

“You need to leave at dawn tomorrow, but for tonight, you can stay here. You need to stock up on more provisions. I’ve laid those aside for you and your forces. Rest your horses and feed them up a bit and then you can cut him off at the Trident. I commissioned to have you new armour made that is much stronger and you have a new Valyrian steel blade. Kill Baratheon and this will all be over.”

“I want to see this new armour.” Rhaegar smiled.

“It’s pitch black and I’ve had the three headed dragon of our house done out on the breast in rubies. It’s very extravagant and opulent, perfect for a new King.”

“Now I really want to see it.” Rhaegar said excitedly.

“Your Grace.” A trusted servant that he was using as a messenger hurried up to him with a letter clutched protectively to his breast like a suckling babe.

Harry took it immediately and he slit the wax seal with his thumb, reading the letter with baited breath. He relaxed and moved to the desk that had parchment, ink and wax, ready to convey his orders. He wrote a short letter with a quill pen, folded it over and sealed it with red wax and a stamp that put his seal, two, three headed dragons side by side, showing that he was the second son of the King, into the wet wax. He would have to change that seal now. He was still the second son, but soon he would be a crowned King and he would use the sigil of the Targaryen family proper, one, three headed dragon in red wax.
Harry waited for the wax to harden before he handed it over to the servant, who bowed and then hurried away.
Harry set the letter in his hands on fire with the flame of the candle burning on the desk and he let it curl into ash, dropping it to the floor and grinding it out with the heel of his boot.

“Am I allowed to know what that was?” Rhaegar asked with a chuckle.

Harry smiled happily. “That, my dear Rhaegar, was Ser Arthur and Prince Lewyn confirming that they’ve blocked Baratheon’s forces from heading west towards Riverrun. While not as protected as the Eyrie, Baratheon could have gotten a Maester from his allies there.”

“Why not let him get to Riverrun? It would have been easier to attack him there.” Jaime asked curiously. He just could not help himself and Harry didn’t truly blame him.

He had begged to be a part of the war effort and Harry and Rhaegar had allowed as such, they understood the need to fight, but despite the fact that Jaime was a very skilled and able swordsman, he did not make a good member of the Kingsguard. He could not follow the oath that he had sworn and he could not forsake his birth house of Lannister for their house of Targaryen, the house that he had solemnly sworn to serve on bended knee. Harry once again cursed his Father for raising Jaime to the Kingsguard out of spite for Tywin. There were many more deserving young men who could have been raised to such an honoured, revered position and they would have served them much better.

Harry shook his head. “The easiest place to attack him is out in the open, where he doesn’t have walls to retreat behind. I don’t want him seeing a Maester either. So if I can block him from getting behind any walls at all, that would be for the best.”

“Are they heading towards the Trident or staying in position for now?” Rhaegar asked.

“Ser Arthur is leading the force towards the Trident immediately, as per my last instructions. Prince Lewyn is bringing me the gift that I asked for him to get in my last missive.”

“What sort of gift?” Rhaegar asked him, a flash of jealousy coming through.

“What is at Riverrun that I would want?” Harry asked with a pointed look.

“I don’t…oh. Oh!” Rhaegar laughed as he understood what was happening. “That’s very underhanded, brother.”

“I want this rebellion over. If I have to take hostages in order to do so, I shall.” Harry replied firmly.

“Hostages?” Jaime questioned and Harry shared an exasperated look with Rhaegar.

“Ser Jaime!” Ser Barristan snapped. “What part of your oath to hold your tongue until spoken to and to keep the King’s secrets are you finding such difficulty in following?!”

Rhaegar chuckled and Harry shook his head before answering. “Catelyn Tully is at Riverrun, she’s just given birth to a son. Lord Eddard Stark’s son. I told Prince Lewyn to sneak into Riverrun and take the boy to use to tie up Stark’s hands. Regrettably Catelyn Stark attacked Prince Lewyn as he was taking the boy and one of his men got over zealous. She was injured in the process, but it allowed them to get out of Riverrun and they are now on their way here.”

“You have Stark’s son.” Rhaegar chuckled.

Harry nodded. “Mace has instructions to take Stannis and Renly Baratheon alive too. If he ever completes his siege that is, the gods only know how they’re still holding out. Jon Arryn was married to Hoster Tully’s younger daughter, Lysa, in the same ceremony that married Catelyn to Eddard, but they have nothing that we can use as leverage, so Arryn cannot be held to hostage as we have done with Stark and Baratheon, so watch out for him.”

“Why not take Catelyn and Lysa instead?” Rhaegar asked.

“Prince Lewyn is coming alone, he met back up with Ser Arthur and the small force that he took into Riverrun with him are on their way to the Trident with Ser Arthur. Prince Lewyn is coming with all speed here and he will drop off the boy and then he’ll race to the Trident and pray that he is not too late to aid you. Ser Arthur is going to goad and tease Stark that they have his son and hopefully it will put him off his stride. Nothing takes away a man’s balls more than using his only heir as a hostage.”

“Will he believe Ser Arthur?”

“If he does or doesn’t, it doesn’t actually matter because we do actually have his son as a hostage. However I am hoping that his lovely Wife will get a messenger to him, perhaps on the eve of battle, to inform him of the assault at Riverrun and the kidnap of their newly born babe.”

“You planned for all this to happen at exactly this time.” Rhaegar accused happily.

Harry grinned. “Of course I did. I do nothing before I’ve fully planned for it and tried to cover as many counter measures as I can possibly think of. Of course I had also hoped that Storm’s End would have opened its gates by now, they must be starving to death inside those walls and still Stannis Baratheon won’t open them. Such a stubborn boy!”

“Why are you surprised?” Rhaegar teased him. “You are both of an age together at nine-and-ten. You wouldn’t open the gates to Kings Landing either if you were in the same positon.”

Harry sighed. “You have the right of things, of course. Gods be damned, but things would be easier if Stannis was not as stubborn as I was!”

“He knows that as soon as he opens those gates, his older brother will be executed. Robert would do anything for those two boys, he’s practically raised Renly from a babe after their parents drowned.” Rhaegar told him. “Stannis would rather starve to death behind those walls rather than risk Robert’s life by opening them.”

Harry thought long and hard, staring at the map. “I don’t know if I should remove Mace from position and bring him here to protect Kings Landing or if I should leave him in place where he is.” He bit his lip and warred with himself in the silence as indecision nibbled at the edges of his mind. “No, Mace needs to keep the pressure on Storm’s End. If we give up now, it will give Baratheon a surge of confidence if he thinks his two younger brothers are marginally safer. I can’t allow that to happen, so Mace will have to stay where he is for the moment.”

“You still have Stark’s boy. Robert will see that babe as close to a nephew. He see’s Eddard Stark as his brother, probably even more so than he thinks of Stannis, who is his actual brother.” Rhaegar told him.

Harry nodded distractedly, thinking hard, his mind racing though so many thoughts as he discarded ideas and plans on his next moves. His mind strayed, as it often did, to his own family and his heart seared with pain at thinking of them being taken hostage and being used against him and Rhaegar in the same way. He would do absolutely anything, even give his own life in a heartbeat, to see that no harm came to his babes and that was why using family members as hostages was such an effective deterrent.
He had taken severe measures to ensure that not a single member of his family were captured or harmed during this rebellion. As soon as he’d been able he had taken the three women, his seven year old brother and his three children straight to Dragonstone to get them off of the mainland. He had left them several loyal men for protection and he had ensured that they had options if they needed them, just in case the rebellion went awry and he and Rhaegar didn’t make it and Baratheon won.

“I’ve sealed up Dragonstone and our entire fleet of ships is with them.” He said, putting his thoughts into words. “Our family is safe, it’s just us two and Father left here on the mainland and I’ve…I’ve made provisions for Ser Willem Darry to…to take Mother, the girls and the children over to Essos if…if the worst should happen.” Harry said past his thick tongue, emotion choking him at the thought of his and Rhaegar’s deaths, leaving his three babes all alone. “They have enough coin and several loyal men if they have need of them.”

“You’ve done right by our family, Harry. But it won’t be needed. We’re going to win this war.”

“I have the eggs too.” He said softly, looking up and into Rhaegar’s purple eyes.

“All of them?” Rhaegar asked.

Harry nodded. “I brought them back from Dragonstone with me. If ever our need for dragons was at its highest, now is that time.”

“We need them now more than ever.” Rhaegar agreed.

“Then it’s settled. Those eggs will hatch and our enemies will burn in a thousand flames.” Harry declared confidently.

He moved over to a large crate that was always near him, it was weighted down with incredibly heavy, thick iron bars that he’d placed in the bottom and covered over with a thick blanket and laid that over with cushions and silk for the eggs to nestle on. It would take more than a dozen men to even shift it an inch across the floor. He kept it locked always and he took the key from around his own neck and he opened it, taking out their newest egg, a beautiful sky blue with hints of gold and silver. He held it in both hands, kissing it lovingly before handing it to Rhaegar, who did the same.

“Ser Barristan, hold this.” Rhaegar commanded as he handed the egg over reverently as Harry took out two more, their ancestors’ eggs, the cream white egg with gold veins and the deep green egg with bronze flecks, and handed them over to his husband.

“How…how many are there?” Jaime asked as he looked in awe to the real dragon eggs that no one but the Targaryen family had laid eyes upon for a hundred or more years.

“Five.” Harry answered as he picked up the last two eggs. The final of their three ancestral eggs, the jet black egg swirled with red and his and Rhaegar’s first egg, the bright, untarnished red. “Five eggs, five potential dragons, Rhaegar. One dragon would be enough, my love, but with five of them, that would be one for me, one for you, one for Viserys and two for Rhaegon, Haeraenya and Helaena to share. Not that they’ll be having one any time soon!” He answered himself sternly.

Rhaegar chuckled. “Have you had any new thoughts of how to hatch them, my love?”

“I was sitting in the godswood late last night.” Harry confessed.

Rhaegar gave him a look of utter attention after hearing that, being the only one to know what Harry had done in the godswood at Harrenhal and just how he had done it, even if it was a little difficult for him to understand. But he had personally witnessed Harry’s power over the godswood in Kings Landing once they had come home from the tourney. He had been watching, as Harry’s breathing became shallow and ragged, his body quivering and trembling as if he were on the edge of orgasm and he had watched with his own eyes as the power had spread from where Harry was sitting, forcing everything it touched into full bloom, forcing trees to grow taller and stronger, forcing insects from their underground burrows to come crawling over the lush grass that had grown thick and green, the same colour as his husband’s eyes, and everywhere, throughout the entire godswood, Harry’s favourite flower, red Dragon’s Breath, had sprouted up out of nowhere and was in full bloom, releasing its intoxicating scent to fill the air. The rush of power that he felt from Harry that night had given him such a thrill, such a surge of adrenaline and excitement, that they had made love furiously, like insatiable beasts, right there in the godswood under the gaze of the heart tree and the light of the stars.
He would never forget it or how he had felt in the presence of Harry’s power and he never again questioned Harry’s connection to the old gods or to the godswood. The power he had felt that night was unlike anything that he had ever felt before in his life, or would ever feel again, and he had known with certainty then that night, that Harry was the Prince who was promised, the one who was prophesised to be born several thousand years before in old Valyria. His brother-husband was special and he was very lucky to have Harry in his life, to have his love and devotion.

“What did the old gods tell you?” He asked, so very seriously.

“They showed me a dream. I woke up in the roots of the oak heart tree. The prophecy you found Rhaegar, it has the clue, the new dragon age will be born amid smoke and salt.”

“Our ancestors always tried to hatch the eggs with just fire…they never added any salt to the dragon pyres.” Rhaegar said breathlessly. “Harry…Harry you’ve found the key to hatching them!”

“I believe so.” A single tear of joy made its way down his smooth cheek. “The old gods have shown me what I must do, but I wanted to wait for you. It can be a belated name day gift for the both of us.”

Rhaegar nodded and he turned to Jon. “Build a pyre in the yard and get a bag of salt sent up from the pantry stores.”

Jon nodded, looking in awe at the five eggs before hurrying away.

“And so the dragon age will begin anew. A hundred and fifty years after the death of the last dragon.” Rhaegar whispered, cradling the green and the white eggs close.

Harry nodded, cradling the black and the red eggs. “They won’t be big enough for a war, but if you took one of them on your shoulder, Baratheon would shit himself at the sight of the first living dragon in living memory.”

“More than that, my love. No one would dare to stand against the Targaryen family ever again if we had the dragons back. We’d be completely safe then, our children would be safe when they’re grown and take over from us.”

Harry took a deep breath and he moved to the courtyard outside, where Jon was ordering the servants to pile the dry wood into a pyre. There was a bed of dry straw kindling covering the bottom of the pyre and Harry ordered a silk pillow to be placed in the centre. It was on this that Harry gently placed the two eggs that he was holding. Rhaegar placed his two onto the pillow too and Harry took the blue egg from Ser Barristan and placed the final egg onto the pillow.
He ordered a torch to be brought to him and, after sprinkling the pyre liberally with salt, Harry set the pyre on fire and he clutched at Rhaegar’s hand tightly, watching desperately as the fire took hold, the wood cracking and popping from the heat and they stood watching, waiting. Yet it was not to be, even at the peak of the fire the eggs didn’t move, they didn’t crack, their dragon babes did not hatch.
It took an agonising hour for the pyre to burn out and Harry was on his knees, sobbing into his hands over the soot stained, unhatched eggs, Rhaegar by his shoulder, comforting him.

“I don’t understand why it didn’t work.” He cried onto Rhaegar.

“You’re six turns pregnant, my love, please don’t stress so much.” Rhaegar soothed. “It’s alright, we’ll win even without the dragons.”

The two of them were alone, having dismissed Jon, Barristan and Jaime several minutes before when it became clear that the eggs were not going to hatch and the pyre was burning down. The sky was now getting dark and the stars were just starting to twinkle above them.

“I don’t understand why it didn’t work! The dream the old gods sent me ties in with the prophecy you found and…and…oh gods.” Harry stopped dead, sniffing hard, brushing his eyes clear as he thought of something that he had foolishly overlooked. “Build another pyre, Rhaegar, now!”

“Harry?” Rhaegar questioned concernedly.

“Our words, Rhaegar! The dream had to tie in with our words! Fire and blood! Smoke was a euphemism for fire in the prophecy, salt is a euphemism for blood! The pyre didn’t need actual salt, it needed blood! That is why our ancient words are Fire and Blood, the key to hatching the dragons!”

Rhaegar nodded and he set to building a new pyre himself, with his own hands, over the ashes of the burnt pyre. Harry went to the door and grabbed a city gold cloak who was stood at the door.

“Go to the dungeons. I want a prisoner brought here right now. Find the worst offender that you can, one scheduled for execution once the war is over and the King’s Justice is returned.” He ordered and the guard nodded, a little startled at his sudden appearance and his strange orders, but he hurried off regardless. “RUN!” Harry shouted after him and the man did as he’d been instructed and Harry turned back to the new pyre taking form.

He was breathing heavily and he quivered, praying that this is what he had missed. That this would now work.

“This has to work.” He said aloud. His heart wouldn’t be able to take another heartbreak of a failed attempt to hatch his and Rhaegar’s dragon babes.

“It will.” Rhaegar said confidently as he picked up the eggs one at a time and cleaned them off gently with the sleeve of his own tunic. “It now ties in your dream from the old gods, the prophecy that I found as a child from Valyria and now our ancient family words too. It will work, I can feel it.”

Harry swallowed and he played nervously with the chain around his neck as had become his habit over the years when he was stressed, anxious or nervous. “It needs to work. We’ve tried everything else, Rhaegar. I don’t know what else to do if this fails as well.”

“The gods sent you a dream, Harry. They did that for a purpose. They are on our side, they want us to succeed, they want us to win this war. You have always had a connection to the old gods through the godswood. When you showed me the power that you had there, what you could do, I knew then that true magic exists within you. If anyone can hatch our beloved eggs, it’s you. I believe that you can do anything now. You have birthed these eggs, you have birthed us three babes and are pregnant with a fourth, you have forged me a true Valyrian blade when the knowledge on how to do as such was lost. I believe in you, my love. You can do this, just believe in yourself.”

Harry inhaled deeply and he nodded. The door knocked and Rhaegar went to it, not letting the gold cloak see what was in the courtyard as he dragged in the bound prisoner.
Harry took the rope and made sure that the gag was in place as the man saw what was in front of him and realised what was going to happen. He started screaming, muffled behind the fabric stuffed in his mouth that was acting as a gag.
Rhaegar, all muscles and strength, took the rope again after he’d bolted the door and he dragged the man to the pyre and he used the rope around the man’s neck to tie him down to the wood.

“Tie his legs too. We don’t want him getting up halfway through if the rope around his neck burns away before he has died.” Harry said and Rhaegar did as asked and he made the prisoner immobile, even as he screamed through his gag.

Harry grabbed another torch and he held it suspended, ready. Rhaegar came back to him and held him around the waist. His hand curled around Harry’s on the flaming torch and he kissed Harry’s neck as his other hand rubbed at their growing fourth babe.

“Together?” He questioned.

“Together.” Harry smiled and his and Rhaegar’s hands opened at the same time, dropping the torch into the wood and straw, setting it aflame.

Harry didn’t look at the man that he and Rhaegar had used as a sacrifice, he had been set to be executed anyway when the war was over, instead Harry stared at his five eggs, concentrating hard on his magic, willing this to work. Then the same feeling, the same sensation, that he got whenever he stepped foot into a godswood washed over him. The force of it was so surprising that he gasped softly, this was not the same feeling that he got when he was in the godswood, it was more powerful, more overwhelming, just more. The pressure, the inability to breathe properly as his lungs constricted, his breath coming faster and more rapidly. His fingers started tingling and he gasped louder.

“It’s going to work, Rhaegar.” He said breathlessly. “I have that feeling again!”

“The godswood feeling?” Rhaegar asked excitedly, holding him tighter.

Harry nodded. “Yes, but it’s different.” He replied breathlessly. “It’s building so quickly. It’s so powerful. It’s so much stronger and more of everything.”

He started panting harshly, curling his fingers up as they tingled so hard it felt like the skin was being flayed from them, and when the pressure became too much, when the flames were at their hottest and their prisoner had stopped screaming, having succumbed to death, the pressure finally broke and flooded out of him and into the flames, into the five dragons, and with a loud crack, the egg they could still slightly see, blurred by the flickering flames, split down the middle in an uneven line.
Harry stopped breathing, clutching a death grip upon Rhaegar as he saw movement behind the crack. He shook, quivering under the excitement, as more loud cracks signified the other eggs splitting and hatching.

“It’s worked.” Harry said excitedly. He turned to look at Rhaegar. “It’s worked! We’ve brought back the dragons, Rhaegar!”

Rhaegar picked him up and kissed him so passionately that Harry felt a strong stirring of arousal.

“You’ve brought them back.” Rhaegar told him gruffly once they’d broken apart. “This was all you, Harry. You are the one with the connection to the gods, to true, real magic. You are the prince who was promised, not me. It always had to be you, my dearest love.”

“I could never have done it without you, my silver haired rider.” Harry teased tearfully as he came down from the high of riding on his own power, of his own magic.

They both turned back to the pyre and they watched it once again, as it burnt itself out, down to mere ashes once more, but there were living things in the ashes this time. Harry couldn’t wait any longer and while the embers were still hot and the flames were still burning in places, he went digging in the ashes for his dragon babes.
He dug out all the bits of shell that Rhaegar then put in the large, empty bag of salt that they had used in their earlier failed attempt and then Harry reached the five baby dragons, picking them out of the ashes one by one and he cradled them tightly as they squeaked and chirruped, almost like newly hatched birds.

“Has your milk come in yet, my love?” Rhaegar asked him.

“I’ve been leaking a bit.” He said confusedly before he realised what Rhaegar meant and why he was asking him as such. “Oh!”

He tugged off his tunic with Rhaegar’s help and he held one newborn up to his nipple. He was surprised when the newborn dragon actually did latch onto him. Rhaegar held up the next dragon to his other nipple and Harry fed them as much as he could when they couldn’t truly suckle, they were just licking at his leaking nipples with their tongues, catching his milk. He had been leaking a little as his pregnancy progressed, but his milk hadn’t properly come in yet. They switched the little dragons and then the last one latched on to him on its own.

“I can’t believe it.” He said, truly not able to believe that he was holding, and feeding, newborn dragons from his own body.

“This is so amazing.” He carried on as the small red dragon clawed its way up Rhaegar’s back to his shoulder and let out a little cry.

Rhaegar immediately gave it his full attention, touching it gently, reverently, as Harry pulled his tunic back on, covering the bump of their fourth human babe.

“We need to get them inside, Rhaegar.” He said once he was dressed. “We’re the only ones who know about them, it needs to stay that way for now. It’ll give us a bigger advantage, a bigger surprise effect, if no one knows about them just yet.”

“Until the Trident?” Rhaegar asked him, looking away from the red dragon on his shoulder for a moment.

“Until the Trident.” Harry nodded as he cradled two dragons in his arms, he could feel another one clinging to his back and the fifth was in his lap.

“Let me grab this one and we can take them to our bed chambers.” Rhaegar said as he scooped up the biggest of their dragons, a dragon as black as jet, with red spinal plates running down its back and red stubs on its head.

“I think that one should go with you to the Trident tomorrow. He’s much bigger…our Balerion reborn.”

Rhaegar smiled to see the feisty little dragon, who was about the size of a small adult cat.

“Where is the fifth?” He asked, looking around in a protective, paternal panic.

“Climbing up my back.” Harry chuckled as he carefully eased his pregnant body upright, to his feet. He turned to show Rhaegar the small, dark green dragon clinging to the back of his tunic.

Rhaegar plucked that one off of his tunic and cradled him. “I’ll go first, try to keep them out of sight.”

Harry nodded, leaving the ashes of the burnt out pyre behind, cradling two dragons as Rhaegar took three and the bag of broken shell.
Rhaegar ordered away everyone who was before them, before they could see the dragons and they made it to their bed chambers, placing their baby dragons on the bed. Their newest, the sky blue dragon, immediately started climbing up the wooden bed post, digging in the tiny hooked claw at the end of each wing joint deep into the wood to pull itself up.

Harry sniffed hard as he watched them, brushing away his tears. “They need names.” He said, trying to overcome the shock at actually succeeding where their ancestors had failed in their attempts for so long. All because of the addition of blood, it seemed impossible to him that not a single one of his ancestors had ever thought to include blood when attempting to hatch the eggs.

“I think you got it right for this big one.” Rhaegar said, touching the head of the black dragon with his red eyes, horn stubs and spinal plates. “Balerion for this black beauty is perfect. Balerion reborn.”

“Xeraxys.” Harry said, pointing to the blue dragon who was now perched on the top of the bedpost like a sentry.

“Valaerion.” Rhaegar said, looking at the beautiful cream and gold dragon.

“How about Viserion instead? He could be Viserys’ dragon. White and gold, he looks like our Viserys.” Harry countered.

Rhaegar inclined his head in agreement. “Viserion he is.”

Harry looked at the tiny red dragon and Rhaegar followed his line of sight. “Pyrexian.” He offered.

Harry smiled. “Then our last one, our green babe. I want to name him Rhaelys, after you.”

Rhaegar pulled him in close and kissed him hard, stroking gentle hands over his baby bump.

“I love you, so very, very much.” Rhaegar declared.

Harry swallowed. “Please be safe tomorrow. I couldn’t stand it if we’d come all this way, hatching the dragons too, only for you to leave me here as a grieving widow.”

“I will be careful, I swear it, I’ll come back to you, my sweet love. I’ll have Balerion with me now too, what can stand up to a dragon?”

“He’s only a baby, he won’t be able to do much.”

“I’m hoping that just the sight of him will bring the entire rebel host to their knees.” Rhaegar said. “All the writings claim that they’ll be able to set straw alight, even as hatchlings, so he won’t have the power to roast Baratheon alive in his armour, but he won’t know that.”

Harry chuckled. “Come, we have one last night together before you leave and I want to give my Husband a proper send off.”

“What about the babes?”

“They need to see that I, their Mother, have a deep connection to you, their Father. We need to establish dominance over them starting from now. You have read the same scriptures as I, they will become unruly if they think to challenge us, we don’t have the luxury of making mistakes with them. They are five to our two, they already outnumber us.”

“We need to have the Dragonpit fixed up.” Rhaegar said as Harry started kissing his throat, opening his jerkin to bare his chest.

“No.” Harry said, pulling back and shaking his head. “Not after the storming of the Dragonpit during the Dance of the Dragons. They’d be too vulnerable. I want somewhere new built for them, with an open top so that they can come and go as they please, so that they can grow to the size of the Black Dread and not the sickly, stunted dragons near the end of their time. They need to see the sky, to feel the wind and the rain and the sun. They need open air and open space.”

“Where do you suggest, brother?” Rhaegar asked. “We have no space like that here in Kings Landing.”

“There is ample land at Summerhall. Those lands are still Targaryen lands and they’re in the Stormlands, Baratheon has forfeited his lands by starting this rebellion. We can take those lands from him. We rebuild Summerhall, Rhaegar. Bigger and more spacious than before. Big enough for even the Black Dread. A beautiful palace and a new structure for our babes hidden in the Dornish Marches.”

Rhaegar swung him up and kissed him, holding Harry’s head still with one large hand. He moved over to the bed and he broke apart to check for little dragons before he laid Harry down on the bed. Harry was immediately swarmed by their little babes and he laughed as one settled itself in his hair. He grinned up at Rhaegar, who smiled down at him fondly.

“This is going to be more difficult that I first anticipated.” He said and Harry laughed.

“Making love with one babe growing inside of me and five newborn dragons crawling around our heads was always going to be challenging, are you saying that you aren’t up for a challenge?” Harry teased.

Rhaegar growled playfully at him, but it was echoed immediately by five hisses, accompanied by streams of pale smoke. Harry laughed and touched the dragons nearest to him gently.

“They’re learning from you!” He declared happily.

“They’re so intelligent.” Rhaegar praised easily.

“Come now, make love to me, Husband. Tomorrow you leave for the Trident and the big reveal of the new generation of Targaryen dragons. I want to be thoroughly ravished and unable to get up before you go.”

Rhaegar smirked smugly at him. “Well, in that case, Husband, let us waste no more time.” He said, before taking hold of his breeches and pulling them down his legs, stopping to slip off Harry’s well-loved ruby boots, taking the time to kiss at his feet.

It was very difficult to make love in a bed swarming with newly born dragons, but when they had both reached their release and curled up, naked together, their five babies settling in around their sweat slicked bodies, scales to skin, Harry couldn’t have been happier, nor more satiated. The tides truly had changed this night and with the birth of five dragons, the war had firmly swung in their favour. They had the gods on their side and now they had dragons too, truly no one could stand in their way now. The victory was now theirs for the taking and take it they would. It would end upon the Trident, with Rhaegar and Balerion, Harry was certain of it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

Harry paced the Great Hall with trepidation as he waited on any sort of news. It had been six days since Rhaegar had left for the Trident and he should just be arriving with his host, which included Ser Gerold, Ser Jonothor and Ser Oswell, giving him triple the protection he had had before, seeing as Jaime Lannister was now staying here, at the Red Keep.
The morning after their dragons had hatched, Jaime had not stirred from his bed. He had been feverish and almost delirious when he was checked upon by a servant sent to fetch him. It was only then that it came about that he had been injured in battle and hadn’t said anything about his injuries to anyone, too worried that it would mean that he would be forced not to fight in the war. Harry had cursed him as a fool and patched him up himself, but he had forbade Jaime from leaving with Rhaegar’s host, telling him sternly that he needed to stay put in order to heal. Jaime had not been happy in the least, but Aerys, who was once again wandering the halls of the Red Keep, someone having let him out of his bed chambers, kept goading the seventeen year old.

“Shut up, old man!” Harry snapped. “Do you want to be confined in your chambers again?” He demanded as he touched a hand to his throbbing head.

“You can’t speak to me…”

“I’ll speak to you how I please!” Harry roared, cutting him off furiously.

“I gave you life!”

“Oh? Am I not a bastard child today then?” He quipped sarcastically as he read yet another missive that had been handed to him. This one had not come from the battlefield, but the news was still very unwelcome.

“You ungrateful little wretch, you shall burn! All of you shall burn!”

“Ser Jaime, what do you think of this?” Harry asked, getting Jaime’s opinion as he handed over the missive that had arrived by raven only fifteen minutes before.

Jaime, who was sat in a chair by the table that the map was laid upon, read the letter handed to him eagerly, anxious for any part in the war now that he was denied the chance to fight in the royal army during the deciding battle of the rebellion.

“I’d say that those filthy squids were planning to raid the coastline while the men are away, battling further in the mainland.” He said perceptively.

Harry nodded and he reached into the wooden box and plucked out a golden kraken. He placed it on the map, over the Iron Islands.
The missive had been sent, via raven which was unusual for such times of war as ravens were often shot down with arrows, from Lord Quenten Banefort, of the Banefort in the Westerlands. He claimed in his letter that large numbers of ships were surrounding Pyke, the seat of house Greyjoy. It could only mean one thing and Harry mentally cursed the opportunistic Ironmen for daring to plan a raiding party while the mainland was at war.

“I would assume that myself, but why is he writing to me about this matter and not to his liege lord, your Lord Father, who is closer? Tywin is at Casterly Rock and hasn’t joined the war. He is perfectly placed to protect the coast from the Ironborn should they raid it.”

“Tywin? Where is he? You will bring me his head!” Aerys rambled.

Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Will you shut up already, why are you even here?!”

“The war! We will give them naught but ashes and cooked meat to rule over! Rossart will see to it, yes!”

Harry sighed heavily. “Ignore him. I have long since given up on deciphering the crazed ramblings he utters.”

“I would imagine he has written to you because Lord Banefort still sees you, the Targaryen’s, as the ruling family.” Jaime said diplomatically.

Harry nodded tiredly and he set the letter on fire, burning it like all of the others.

“Oh, how prettily it burns.” Aerys crooned. “Where is Rhaella?”

Harry grit his teeth and he stomped on the ashes, grinding the flames out viciously with the heel of his boot.

“Where is Rhaella?!” Aerys demanded louder. “Have her brought to me!”

“She’s on Dragonstone you mad, old man!” Harry raged furiously. “You can’t hurt her anymore!”

“She is my wife…”

“She is my Mother and as the King, I am telling you to never go near her again!”

“I am still the King!”

“You are not the King!”

“I am! I am the King I tell you, you bastard boy!”

Harry threw his hands up in frustration and he turned back to the table, trying to breathe deeply and calmly as his progressing pregnancy caused his patience to run very thin, patience which was already stretched to its limit due to the stress of the war and the very real fear that he might lose his beloved Husband. He would kill whoever had let the man out of his bed chambers if he ever found out who it had been. He swore it. It had likely been someone who stood to lose more than he gained if Aerys was no longer the King, there were several of them who sprung to mind that were still hovering around the Red Keep, just waiting for an opportunity to either dispose him, or to help the ‘King’ in whatever way they could, even if it was merely letting the man out of his locked bed chambers.
Jaime stood suddenly and Harry turned to him, startled, but a searing pain in his shoulder had him gasping. He touched a hand to the pain before pulling it away and looking at it to see blood. He turned fully to see Jaime grappling a blooded table knife from Aerys’ hands.

“Did you…did you just stab me in the back you filthy craven?!” He roared as Jaime disarmed the mad man easily, despite his own healing injuries and his recently broken fever. “I am unarmed!”

“You need to die to bless this war in our favour!”

“If anyone is going to die in this city, it’ll be you!” Harry snarled furiously. “Throw him back in his bed chambers and woe betide anyone who lets him back out again! I’m going for some air!”

Harry went storming straight to his rooms and he unlocked the door from a key that he took from around his neck. He did not leave his rooms unattended anymore, the door was always locked so that no unsuspecting servant wandered in to clean and stumbled upon his and Rhaegar’s secret…or got inadvertently attacked and eaten. He opened the door and four multi-coloured eyes looked up at him, as each of the four dragons left to him cracked open one eye each, before they closed again and went back to sleep at seeing him.
Harry smiled at his babies and he made sure that they still had plenty of water in the bucket and lots of fresh, diced meat. The meat had rapidly been devoured, but there was enough left to feed his babes for the rest of the day and the night.
He took off his tunic and used a mirror to check on his shoulder, breathing more easily as it looked like it was a small scratch, just a flesh wound rather than a life threatening or debilitating wound. It had sliced a long line thanks in part to Jaime’s quick intervention, not plunged in deep as he suspected his Father had been aiming to do.
He let out a breath and he went to the bed and touched all four of his remaining babes and he breathed deeply, calming himself. This was the second time that his Father had tried to kill him in a little over a week. He couldn’t be allowed near him any longer, it was just too dangerous and after this latest attempt, it would be utterly foolish to allow Aerys to have a third attempt at his life. He would have to be much, much more careful until the war was over now. Of his Father and his little pet allies, any one of which could try to assassinate him while he only had a few gold cloaks and personal guards to protect him and with his slowness and encumbering pregnancy, he was not as able to protect himself as well as he ought to be either.
He went to the room next door, via the door that he and Rhaegar had demanded connect their wedding chambers together, and he peered at the small babe sleeping in Haeraenya’s cradle that he’d been forced to move into Elia and Ashara’s room. Red-brown haired and blue eyed, Prince Lewyn had dropped Stark’s only son and Heir off to him before riding to the Trident on a fresh horse to join Rhaegar and his sworn brothers, after Harry had forced him to eat a small something and let him have a small rest first. Of course his long-time friend had been let in on the secret of the dragons when Harry had taken him with him to put the babe into his bed chambers to keep him safe. The memory of his face as he looked upon the four dragons, and Harry told him that he and Rhaegar had done the seemingly impossible and brought back the dragons, made him smile.
The babe favoured the Tully looks, Harry decided as he fingered the small, auburn curls. The babe was mostly left to himself, as a hostage there were few people that Harry would allow near him. A wet nurse fed the babe four times a day, on Harry’s command. Harry fed the boy himself during the nights, as his dragons suckling had brought his milk in sooner than he would have had if not for them, so he was able to do so and with the babe properly able to suck, he was producing more milk in recent days.

“I am sorry that it has come to this.” He said softly to the babe. “You won’t be harmed, I swear it. You are here purely to tie up your Father’s hands, nothing more. You’re actually very important to this war, little babe, though I do wish that you were not called Robb after the rebel leader, though I expected nothing less from your Father, Robert Baratheon is his best friend after all.”

Harry sighed and he made sure that the door to Elia and Ashara’s bed chamber, that led out onto the corridor, was bolted too before he went back to his dragons, closing the connecting door behind him. It would have been awful if one of his dragons had gotten into the room and his only hostage was eaten in his cradle.
He crawled into the bed carefully, and he laid still as his tiny Xeraxys, such a beautiful sky blue with gold and silver hints, stood and stretched like a cat before wobbling on his forewings across the feather mattress to Harry’s chest, where he settled down contentedly and fell back to sleep. He was so warm that it was like keeping a hot coal on his chest, but Harry didn’t care as he made the decision to take a small nap to recover from the shock of having his own Father try to stab him in the back. It would prove to be a very fatal mistake.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

Barristan rode proudly, yet alertly, beside the Prince Rhaegar, his curiosity burning over in his mind at the kisses, embraces and declarations of love that he had witnessed between Rhaegar and Haradarian. It had seemingly come out of the blue to his knowledge, but the boys had always been close, he had known as such from as far back as to the time before Haradarian had been walking upright. Rhaegar had followed Haradarian’s every movement, had hovered over him like a worried, protective parent. He had truly loved his younger brother and Haradarian had grown up adoring and emulating his older brother. But he had never once imagined that they had been so close as to be lovers, but what he had seen with his own eyes strongly suggested that they were in fact lovers to one another and he didn’t know how to process such a relationship between them.
After the failed plan to hatch the five dragon eggs, Rhaegar had been very, very quiet and introspective. Much more so than usual as he sunk so deeply into his thoughts that it took someone several attempts of increasing volume to get his attention at times.
They were currently scouting out the best vantage points on the Trident, Rhaegar in his new pitch black armour, the breast bedecked in rubies in the shape of his house sigil and the brand new, Valyrian steel blade sheathed at his hip, the dragonbone hilt smooth and glittering darky in the sunlight. Barristan still couldn’t believe that Haradarian had forged it himself, had carved the hilt himself, but truly, that boy would never cease to amaze him and he was so proud of the boy, so proud that his heart swelled as he remembered fondly watching him grow from a babe at the breast to a strong, kind, intelligent man.
He and his sworn brothers, Ser Gerold, Ser Jonothor, Ser Oswell and Ser Arthur were riding protectively around Prince Rhaegar, who was scouring both banks of the Trident before declaring that in order to stop the rebel, Baratheon, from getting to the Eyrie, they had to be camped on the north bank and standing across the south bank when the rebel came up from the south. Their missing brother, Prince Lewyn, was taking longer to reach the Trident than King Haradarian had predicted and he hoped that he had reached Kings Landing and had not run amiss of any rebel forces on his way there. He hated that a mere babe, one who was not long born, was being held as a hostage, but he also knew that Haradarian would not harm him needlessly or cruelly.
They made it back to Rhaegar’s tent and Rhaegar seemed to be warring with himself, the indecision playing clearly upon his face as his eyes flicked to each of their faces as if measuring them against some hidden, unknown factor that they couldn’t possibly know, but Barristan stood himself up more firmly, throwing his shoulders back and his chest out, and his sworn brothers did the same as they were scrutinised by their future King.

“Close the flap.” He ordered, moving deeper into the tent, lighting more candles and lanterns to brighten up the interior of the large, spacious pavilion tent.

Ser Gerold did as instructed, tying the tent closed firmly, so that the barest hint of sunlight peeked through here or there, and they stared at their Prince curiously as he carefully took off the large leather bag that he had taken to wearing everywhere recently. No one was allowed to touch it and it was kept in Rhaegar’s lap at all times when he was riding. He hadn’t been seen without it in recent days, ever since they had ridden out from Kings Landing and many men in the royal army had tales to tell about what it contained, gossiping that it was jars of wildfire, or some other secret weapon forged by King Haradarian, who had also made the Valyrian steel sword that their Prince was now wearing too.

“While I was at Kings Landing, we attempted to hatch the dragon eggs from Dragonstone.” He said quietly, his voice hushed and almost reverent. “The first attempt, that Ser Barristan was witness to, was a failure as we misinterpreted what we had needed. Haradarian and I had thought that we needed salt as well as fire, we didn’t. What we needed was blood, not salt. In the dark of the night we tried again, in private over the ashes of our failure, and all five of the eggs hatched for us.”

“What…what are you saying, my Prince?” Ser Oswell asked him with wide eyes that darted to the bag and then back up to Rhaegar’s face.

Barristan shook his head as he tried to make sense of his own thoughts. Surely Rhaegar was not saying what they all thought that he meant.
Rhaegar, in answer to the question, silently opened the bag and let the top of it slump down, showing that nestled inside it was in fact a real live, breathing dragon the size of a large cat.

“Haradarian has the four others in Kings Landing with him, but I brought the biggest one with me.” He carried on, lifting the black scaled dragon from the bag gently. It cracked open burning red eyes and hissed deeply despite Rhaegar’s care, and pale smoke rose from its mouth and both nostrils. “This is Balerion reborn. We have named him Balerion in honour of the Black Dread, of whom he has a certain likeness. The four others are Viserion, Rhaelys, Pyrexian and Xeraxys.”

“It’s…oh by the Seven, it’s real.” Ser Jonothor said faintly, his face as white as the pure white cloak flowing down his back, as the newly awakened dragon crawled up Rhaegar’s arm to perch on his shoulder, glaring at them through those piercing, demon red eyes.

“He’s very real.” Rhaegar nodded, stroking the dragon that was curling up into his vulnerable, exposed neck, like a large, dangerous cat. “I’ve been feeding him on small pieces of meat. He cooks them himself. He can’t sustain the flame for very long, but he can set clothing and straw on fire. All I need is for Baratheon to have his horse dressed and I can unleash Balerion to set him on fire. If it startles the horse, I can kill him. Perhaps it’s not the most honourable way, but at the moment I just want this rebellion over and I want to go home. I want my family to be safe and able to come home.”

“Can I…can I touch him?” Ser Arthur asked, rather bravely in Barristan’s opinion.

Rhaegar plucked the dragon from his shoulder and held him out, pushing him gently into Ser Arthur’s arms, who was forced to cradle the dragon like a babe with both arms.

“Oh. Oh.” He gasped before the dragon stilled and let out a small, growling chirrup. “He’s really heavy.”

Rhaegar nodded in agreement. “He is. I suppose it’s the iron content laid down in his bones that makes him so much heavier than his small size belies, but he is a week old and he’s eating very well. He’s doing so well, especially as Balerion was one of the fossilised eggs. I had worried that that would affect him in some way, but it hasn’t.”

Rhaegar took the dragon back into his own arms, but Balerion once again climbed up to Rhaegar’s shoulder, curling up into his warm neck.

“With the dragons back, my family can once again flourish to the heights of our ancestors.” Rhaegar said with a smile at the dragon, who flicked out a forked tongue to lick at Rhaegar’s nose. “We can no longer be opposed with five dragons on our side.”

“We have to get you close to Baratheon, then. As soon as we can.” Ser Gerold reasoned.

“He’s injured, he’s not going to be to the forefront of the army.” Rhaegar sighed. “I have to make myself seen and hope that he comes forward to parley.”

“That isn’t going to be difficult with your new armour.” Ser Gerold said, indicating the dragon wing helm that Haradarian had had forged for his brother.

Rhaegar smiled slightly and then he sighed once more, turning to the map that he had spread out on the small table. He had carved wooden pieces to indicate the houses and their positions. He had two, three headed dragon pieces, one was placed over the Trident to indicate their position, the other one was in the centre of Kings Landing to indicate Haradarian’s position.

“The scouts say that Baratheon is less than a day’s march away. His scouts will have reported to him by now, he will know of our position and he’ll camp where he is for the night, as we have, and then the battle will be tomorrow, but I will post more sentries than usual just in case he tries to sneak attack us in the night.”

“Where has the dragon been sleeping, pray tell?” Ser Oswell asked, still fixated upon the small, scaled creature at Rhaegar’s neck.

“Curled up in the crook of my neck.” Rhaegar said easily as he sat down, moving the dragon to his lap. It stretched and then circled, curling back up in Rhaegar’s lap and falling asleep. Rhaegar stroked it gently, as if it were one of his own tiny daughters.

“Is that safe?”

“We have bonded.” Rhaegar said easily. “He sees me and Haradarian as above him in the hierarchy, thus he listens to us both and takes orders from us both. He is only a week old, but he is already taking easy commands well. They’re so much more intelligent than the writings acclaimed to them.”

Barristan watched the boy that he had seen growing, from a newborn babe, to this four-and-twenty year old man in front of him and he knew that nothing could stop him from following him. He would follow Rhaegar right down to the seven hells itself if he was ordered to do so and tomorrow, when the battle of the Trident started, he and his sworn brothers would be beside this man and they would protect him with their very lives.
Rhaegar had kept the dragon, Balerion, in his tent, sleeping upon his own bed with half a side of cooked beef to chew upon and a bucket of water for his thirst. He had then gone about the royal army, issuing orders and meeting with the Lords of his banners, informing them of what he wanted done tomorrow when Baratheon and his army met them upon the ford in the Trident.
He spoke to common soldiers and well known knights alike, instilling them with his confidence of victory and the justice of their fight. They were not the ones in the wrong, he told them all firmly, Baratheon and his army were all rebels who couldn’t be allowed to tear up the Seven Kingdoms as they saw fit. They had to be stopped and it would be done here on the Trident, by his own hand.
There were wild cheers and shouts of his name after Rhaegar had given his speech, more so as he urged them all to eat and sing, but told them also to get an early night, so that they would be strong and rested upon the battle tomorrow.
Rhaegar had only stopped talking to, and eating and drinking, with his men when the sky was getting dark. He had made his way back to his tent, in the centre of the camp, and checked critically on his dragon as they watched him. He had kept all of the Kingsguard with him that night and they bedded down in his own pavilion tent, but Rhaegar barely slept. None of them really slept and it had little to do with the baby dragon prowling around and even over the top of them, nor had it anything to do with their missing sworn brother, Prince Lewyn, arriving two hours before daybreak on a sweating, slavering horse. Rhaegar had immediately urged him to sleep for a few hours before the battle as he looked about ready to drop from exhaustion, much like his horse.
The baby Balerion had taken a great liking to Ser Arthur, however, whether he sensed that Arthur wasn’t afraid of him as much as the rest of them or he somehow understood that Arthur had wanted to hold him first, before anyone else, he perched on his shoulder, licking his cheek and neck with his forked tongue in a clear sign of affection. Rhaegar was once again lost in his thoughts as the sun rose and the day of battle approached. He was mumbling under his breath too and at one point Barristan heard him whisper his brother’s name and aware that he might be taking a private moment to pray to the gods before the battle, he turned himself away.
Rhaegar was up within the hour after that, dressed in his armour by his squires, Ser Gerold checking personally to make sure that every buckle and fastening was secure. Rhaegar’s jet black destrier was decked out in red and he held a meeting with all of his Lords and generals, dictating who was to be where and what was to happen. He stressed that no one from the enemy’s side, not one person, would be allowed to cross the Trident before he swung up onto his horse and led his army over to the south bank of the Trident to halt any advancement of the rebel army. There they waited, for almost half a day, water skins being passed around, morsels of food were eaten and the soldiers chatted and joked together to keep their fear and nerves at bay.
Then the moment came and the rebel army could be seen advancing upon them, coming closer step by step as they watched silently, and then the rebel army halted in front of the royal army, several paces between them, waiting for more orders. Barristan looked at every banner, at every sigil, memorising the houses involved in the rebellion and he was angry at some of the allies to the rebels that he saw. Houses that had pledged allegiance to the Targaryens, to the crown, only to turn their cloaks and declare for the rebel Baratheon instead.

“Where is Baratheon?” Rhaegar called out thunderously. “Let him come forward and we can end this farce here and now.”

“You abducted a highborn lady!” One soldier yelled out.

“The Lady Lyanna was found at Moat Cailin by men under the command of Lord Wyman Manderly of White Harbour and he had her returned to Winterfell and to her younger brother, Benjen. She is safe and well.” Rhaegar said. “I never left Kings Landing for the entire year preceding her going missing. I could not have been the reason for her disappearance.”

“King Aerys is a mad man!” Another one cried, unwilling to give up.

“Aerys is no longer the King. Haradarian has taken the crown in our Father’s place and he is ruling in place of the mad king. Aerys is now done and he will never again be King.”

“You have my son and attacked my wife!”

Rhaegar smiled at last as the leaders of the rebellion pushed forward to the front. Stark, Baratheon, Arryn and Tully.

“Ah, Stark. I had wondered if you’d be here, given the nature of the threat against you.” Rhaegar said calmly.

“You attacked my Wife in her own home and stole our newborn babe.” Stark growled.

“She has a terrible right hand to her.” Prince Lewyn said. “I regret that one of the men I took with me was a little…heavy handed with her, but King Haradarian ordered your babe to be delivered to him at Kings Landing so we couldn’t allow her to stop us from carrying out his orders.”

“You were the one to steal into Riverrun to take my babe?” Stark demanded.

“I was.” Prince Lewyn answered with a small incline of his head. “Your babe is fine and well as a hostage at Kings Landing, in the care of King Haradarian.”

“That you dare to take mere babes…” Robert Baratheon, looking very hale and healthy despite their intel that said that he was injured, trailed off threateningly.

“Oh, worry not. You have not been left out, Baratheon. Lord Mace Tyrell has found a hidden gully in the base of Storm’s End, a small ravine that slips under the curtain wall from the sea. He has taken both of your brothers’ hostage. Storm’s End is of course forfeit to the crown. Stannis will be executed as soon as he reaches King Haradarian at Kings Landing, Renly will be a hostage at Kings Landing and he will be fostered out to Highgarden under the care of Lord Mace Tyrell.” Rhaegar lied expertly.

Despite gaining the intel about the small ravine under the curtain wall, Lord Mace had been unable to take advantage of it due to the lack of boats as the entire Targaryen fleet was moored at Dragonstone. Some were currently being constructed and it would only be days before the castle fell to them, but it hadn’t fallen yet.

“You lie.” Baratheon raged at him, but Rhaegar could see that he had gone pale under his angry red flush. He knew about the small ravine into Storm’s End, of course he did, it was his home, but it was probably a family known secret about the way into the castle via the sea, one that was guarded heavily and jealously.

“If you are content to wait, I could have your brother’s head brought from Kings Landing.” Rhaegar said dismissively. “But I am not content to wait, I want this over with and I want to go back to my own family.”

“You will not be leaving this ford!” Baratheon growled furiously. “I will kill you for this and avenge my brothers.”

“Even if you do kill me, you’ll still have to kill Haradarian.” Rhaegar said angrily.

Barristan did not like the look that Robert Baratheon was wearing when he heard that remark.

“I won’t need to.” He said nastily. “I’ve agreed to marry Cersei Lannister who wishes to be my Queen. As we speak Tywin Lannister is leading a host of westermen to Kings Landing, pledging allegiance to the crown…as soon as the gates open, he will declare for me. Your brother will be dead before my brothers even reach Kings Landing and you will be dead with him. I will go to Dragonstone myself, and I will kill your own younger brother for the threat against my own. I will kill your Mother and the babe she carries, your wives too and I’ll leave your babes until last, but I swear to the Seven that I will wipe out you Targaryens once and for all.”

Barristan felt his stomach sink at the threat to the capital, and he felt sick at the threat issued to the women and children of his royal family. Rhaegar and Haradarian would never harm the child hostages, nor a woman, yet Baratheon was threatening to do both, killing the sweet Targaryen babes and Ser Arthur’s sister, Ashara and Prince Lewyn’s niece, Elia too. Rhaegar, however, stayed calm in complete contrast to the raging Baratheon, a small smile on his face.

“Do you think that my brother is that stupid?” He actually chuckled. “That he will open the gates to just anyone who comes knocking, even if they are declaring to be allies of the crown? He is far too cautious for that, he is far too intelligent to fall for such an obvious trick. He will keep Lannister’s forces outside the walls, as he did with my own host when I went to the capital. If Lannister shows even the slightest inclination of turning his cloak, then Haradarian will bombard him and his force with the eight trebuchets that are placed around the walls.”

Baratheon was back to looking furious again and his fists were clenched tight on the reins of his stallion. Barristan could see his jaw working furiously as he ground his teeth together.

“So you see, your plan has done nothing except to confirm to me that Lannister is a rebel also and I will delight in taking Casterly Rock for my own family, along with Winterfell, Storm’s End, Riverrun and the Eyrie…it seems that my children will be very well endowed when they grow older. We will be starting the Targaryen family of five great houses, it seems and house Targaryen will cover the Crownlands, the Stormlands, the Vale, the North, the Riverlands and the Westerlands. My how we will grow.”

“Only if you win!” Baratheon raged.

“Of course I’ll win. You can’t beat a dragon.” Rhaegar laughed.

Prince Lewyn, who had seen Haradarian’s dragons when he’d dropped off the babe, Robb, had also been introduced to Rhaegar’s dragon, Balerion, early that morning, when he’d finally arrived at the Trident and had been led to his King’s royal pavilion. He shared a look with his sworn brothers and they all smiled, looking proudly at their commander, Rhaegar. No one could beat a dragon.

“You Targaryens are all mad! You’re all the same, you all think that you’re dragons and you’re not! You’re just men!” Jon Arryn scoffed.

Rhaegar laughed again. “Indeed.” He agreed with an incline of his head that threw the rebel army. “I was speaking of my actual dragon.” He said.

“The dragons are dead and they’ve been dead for a hundred and fifty years.” Stark insisted, but the ordinary men behind him shifted uneasily as Rhaegar grinned rather ferociously.

“You haven’t been near Kings Landing recently, have you?” Prince Lewyn laughed.

The men opposite all looked nervous and some of the soldiers started looking behind them, looking for an escape route.

“You’re lying.” Baratheon snarled. “We would have heard if there had been real dragons in Kings Landing.”

“Not if they were kept in Maegor’s Holdfast.” Rhaegar said simply with what Barristan could only describe as an infuriating smile.

“Show me a real dragon and I’ll believe you.” Baratheon scoffed, with his own infuriatingly, smug smile.

Rhaegar actually laughed, long and loudly, and he opened the bag in his lap, that was hooked over his shoulder and Barristan kept his eyes on the men opposite him as Rhaegar pulled out the baby dragon, Balerion.

“This is our Balerion reborn. I brought him with me so that you could meet him. Haradarian has four dragons with him in Kings Landing. Viserion, Rhaelys, Pyrexian and Xeraxys. I wonder how Lannister will deal with that if he does attack Kings Landing. Not very well I would imagine.”

Barristan smiled as he saw the faces of the men opposite as the little dragon crawled up to Rhaegar’s shoulder and let out a shriek that echoed through the silent trees as no one so much as dared to breathe as they stared with bulging eyes at the jet black and red tinted dragon.

“If you surrender now and bend the knee to me, you will be executed swiftly and your men will be able to go back to their homes and families unharmed.”

Rhaegar unsheathed the beautiful, rippling Valyrian steel blade and held it in his hand, ready for whatever decision Baratheon made.

“It’s only a baby!” Baratheon roared, trying to convince his men that it could be killed, trying to get them to fight despite the fact that they were being faced with the first real dragon in a hundred and fifty years. “We will not cower from a newly hatched dragon.”

“Dragons can kill as soon as they hatch.” Rhaegar said matter-of-factly. “They are born fledged and able to breathe fire and this dragon is over a week old now. Balerion, let us show them.”

Rhaegar said something in High Valyrian and the little dragon looked at Rhaegar and then stood up on his hind legs, spreading out his little wings, which were actually a more impressive size than his little body belied. His breast started to lighten in colour as the little dragon seemed to swell and then he opened his mouth to show the fire building within.
The torrent of fire that the little dragon spat out was shocking, it was jet black flames shot through with brilliant red, exactly like his scales and Barristan wondered if that was true of all dragons. The black fire was strange enough, but it reached so much further than Barristan would have ever believed the little dragon capable of reaching and the heat that such a tiny thing emitted made him sweat and he wasn’t even in the direct line of it. The black-red fire scorched the grass all over the bank and it spooked the horses into whinnying and tossing their heads. One even bolted, but Barristan wasn’t sure if that wasn’t the rider just trying to get as far away from the front of the line, away from the baby dragon, as he possibly could.

“So, are you going to bend the knee and accept your executions?” Rhaegar asked mildly and his men laughed behind him, though they were tittering at the sight of the dragon and the destruction it could wreak. Barristan rather thought that they were just glad that they were behind the dragon and not in front of it, facing it, like the rebel army.

“We have not come all this way just to bend the knee and accept execution from you!” Baratheon raged. “Kill them all.”

“You always were a hot headed fool!” Rhaegar shouted out. “You will kill your men needlessly!”

Barristan covered his Prince with his sworn brothers as the rebel army, moved to fight through fear that induced a panic, charged at them and their own army surged forward to clash against them.
Barristan stayed firmly by Rhaegar’s side, fighting and he was proud that Rhaegar trusted them with his life, as he didn’t focus on the people trying to kill him, but he was keeping his gaze solely on Robert Baratheon, keeping him in his sights.

“Haradarian was right, he’s trying to cross the Trident to get to the Eyrie. We need to pull back and meet him on the northern bank.” Rhaegar told them and Barristan got slightly separated from Rhaegar then, as he moved off with two other members of the Kingsguard, leaving four of them to fight his enemies to protect his back.

Barristan fought his way through, thrusting his sword into a man’s neck, ignoring the gout of blood that gushed out as he yanked his sword back and out of bone, and he caught back up to Rhaegar on his noticeable black stallion bedecked in red, Balerion perched on his shoulder with his leathery wings outstretched still, much like Rhaegar’s newly forged, black helm, marking where the Prince of the Seven Kingdoms was on the field.
People were giving him a very wide berth, even those who were fighting on their side. The dragon had served his purpose, it had shocked all of the soldiers, even their own, and they were wary of being caught in the burning red gaze of the dragon, because none of them wanted to be bathed in dragonfire, no matter that Balerion was only a week old and not even the size of the toe of his namesake, Balerion the Black Dread.

“Not running away, are you Baratheon?” Rhaegar taunted as he caught up to the fleeing rebel Lords actually in the ford of the river. “Perhaps if you present me your back, I’ll ram my sword through it regardless.”

Baratheon swung around on his horse and he charged at Rhaegar in a blind fury. Rhaegar met the blow from the heavy, spiked warhammer with the new Valyrian steel blade that Haradarian had forged for him. Balerion sent his fire straight down the blade, hitting the rebel leader in the chest, but though the armour must have heated up, Baratheon’s yell was more of fright than pain.

“You’ve lost, Baratheon.” Rhaegar panted as he blocked another blow from the warhammer with the sword. “This is Kingsfire, my brother forged it for me himself.”

Baratheon answered that with a brutal swing of his warhammer and again Rhaegar blocked it, but a third, more powerful blow from the Warhammer that came much quicker than anyone anticipated caught Rhaegar in the chest and he fell from his horse like a stone, face down in the Trident.
Gerold Hightower leapt from his horse to pull the Prince from the water, but Robert Baratheon swung a blow at his head and the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard crumpled like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
Barristan felt his heart stutter as Baratheon yanked back his warhammer, splattered with the brains of the man who had taught him what it was to be a member of the Kingsguard, leaving a gaping hole in the back of the head and helm of one of the greatest men of the Seven Kingdoms.
He leapt down himself, ducked the blow to his own head and raised his shield to fend off any other blows as his sworn brothers, their own shock now overcome, moved to shield him as he yanked Rhaegar’s face from the water, praying fervently to the Warrior that he wasn’t dead.
Rhaegar choked and spluttered as he came up, just regaining consciousness and Barristan breathed a little easier.

“Too much talking and posturing, my Prince.” Barristan told the twenty-four year old sternly. “Battles are rarely won with words. You have a dragon now, use him! We need to finish up here and get to Kings Landing to help your brother if Tywin Lannister really is on his way to attack the city.”

Rhaegar looked at him a little dazedly, a hand touching his dented armour, but his eyes cleared a little at the mention of Haradarian and he nodded.

“Balerion!” Rhaegar called out, his voice low and quiet and slightly thready. “I seem to be having trouble breathing, Ser.” He said quieter, to him alone.

Barristan looked immediately to the dent in the armour, over Prince Rhaegar’s side and he said a quick prayer to the Warrior.

“You may have a broken rib or two.” He said comfortingly, praying that that was all it was and nothing worse…nothing to the calibre of Baelor Breakspear, who had taken a morning star to the back of the head. He had been fine, completely fine, walking and talking afterwards, but when his dented helm had been removed, his brain had slipped out and he had died in the arms of Ser Duncan, who would go on to be the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.

Rhaegar inhaled and exhaled, as if testing his breathing. He seemed to declare himself alright as he picked up his sword and held out an arm for Balerion to land on, as if he were a bird of prey.
Barristan helped Rhaegar to climb back onto his horse and then swung himself up onto his own. The remainder of the Kingsguard closed in around their Prince and they tried to ignore that their commander had been killed, that Rhaegar, who would be their King once they got home, could have been killed also and there was more than one worried glance being sent to the large dent in the side of Rhaegar’s breastplate.
Rhaegar chased down Robert Baratheon, who was trying to flee towards the Bloody Gates and to the Eyrie, where he would be safe to recover, but his entourage were being harried and attacked all the way and Baratheon lost the support of Hoster Tully and Eddard Stark along the way to smaller battles as they became separated.
Rhaegar charged at Baratheon again, as men fought and died all around them. Rhaegar didn’t trouble himself this time with talking, instead he swung his blade and his sword swiped across the top of Baratheon’s shield, sparks flying from the scrape of metal, almost taking off Robert Baratheon’s head.
Barristan jarred his own arm and shoulder raising his shield to protect his Prince from the next blow from the warhammer. Baratheon was using the spiked side of the hammer this time and it came inches from Barristan’s face as it splintered his shield like tinder, leaving a massive hole in the centre of his shield and making it all but useless, but still Barristan held it, using the rim to barge the shaft of the hammer out of Rhaegar’s way and if he died in his Prince’s place…well, that was what he’d agreed to when he had bent the knee and had been accepted as a member of the Kingsguard as a young man. He would give his life for his royal family if he needed to, happily, honourably, as he was meant to.
Lord Jon Arryn came to Robert’s aid, but the man did not get far as Jonothor Darry charged to meet him. Barristan didn’t take much notice, determined to protect Rhaegar with his very life as his shield rapidly became nothing more than splinters of wood with a metal handle attached.

“Brother, here.” Ser Arthur passed over his own shield and Barristan quickly switched them over between hammer swings, dropping the useless remains of his own shield into the river around his horse’s feet.

Ser Arthur was slicing through men and enemy horses with the pale, Valyrian sword Dawn and he didn’t need a shield at all as he could dodge and weave quicker. Rhaegar was doing the same with his dark Valyrian sword, Kingsfire, only he was aiming almost exclusively at Baratheon, only twisting to stab at a lone, foolish man who tried to attack him from the other side occasionally.
Barristan startled as Baratheon let out a thunderous yell of denial and grief and Barristan turned to see Ser Jon ripping his sword from Jon Arryn’s opened belly. The man that Baratheon saw as a Father.
Baratheon acted too quickly for any of them to react to as he swung his warhammer and smashed open the back of Ser Jon’s head. He too fell like a puppet who’d had his strings cut and Barristan felt sick, but he was almost immediately filled with a sense of vengeance as Rhaegar yelled out one word in High Valyrian, ‘Dracarys’, and Balerion reacted immediately, spewing out a stream of black fire shot through with red and he set Baratheon on fire, his horse bolted from under him and dumped Baratheon into the river, extinguishing the flames.
Rhaegar had quickly leapt down from his own horse and with one vicious thrust, he drove the Valyrian blade through Robert Baratheon’s breastplate and into the flesh and muscle beneath.
Those who had seen the action had various reactions. If they were with the royalist army, they cheered and shouted, if they were with the rebels, they threw down their arms and even fell to their knees to plead for mercy, or they turned and ran, being cut down as they did so by the jubilant royalists, who had emerged victorious with Rhaegar’s swift actions.
Rhaegar made sure that Baratheon was assuredly dead before he pulled his sword free with a wet sucking noise and he called Balerion to him, cradling the tiring dragon as gently as he could in his pitch black armour.
Barristan stayed close to him, alert and at the ready, even though he was tired himself. Prince Lewyn pulled in closer too, but the other members of their brotherhood were gone, lost in the madness around them or dead.
Ser Oswell was the first to come back, his shield battered, his sword bloody, but he took a quick breather and then he stood tall, surrounding Rhaegar, who had removed his helm to take a better, less restrictive, look around.

“We need to find Stark and Tully.” Rhaegar croaked, his voice dry and thready again and Barristan looked worriedly to the large dent in the armour again.

“Perhaps we should find a field medic.” Prince Lewyn insisted.

“There’s no time, we need to find Stark and Tully and then get back to Kings Landing. If Tywin Lannister is taking his host to attack Haradarian or besiege the city, we need to help him!” Rhaegar said, ending breathlessly. It took him several worrying moments to regain his breath and he was panting as if he had run a mile uphill.

“Your Grace, Hoster Tully has been taken captive.” Ser Oswell insisted.

“Then that just leaves Stark.”

“He’s heading back to Riverrun.” Ser Arthur shouted out as he forced his way through bodies to approach them, his left arm bloody and held gingerly.

“You seem to be injured, Ser.” Prince Lewyn teased.

“I gave my shield to Barristan so that he could cover our King. This injury was in the line of duty!” Ser Arthur insisted.

“Is it deep?” Rhaegar asked concernedly.

“No, your Grace. It is but a scratch.”

Rhaegar nodded. “Then we need to leave. We need to get back to Kings Landing and to Haradarian.”

“You don’t think Baratheon’s words were true, do you?” Ser Oswell asked.

“I can’t take the chance that he was telling the truth.” Rhaegar said firmly. “If Tywin is heading to storm Kings Landing…I need to protect my brother. I need to be there for him. If anything were to happen to him and I hadn’t acted because I’d thought that it was a mere lie…” Rhaegar’s throat bobbed as he swallowed heavily. He shook his head, unable to finish his sentence and Barristan understood, perhaps less than he thought he would have a week before after the kisses that he had seen between them, but they had always been close and to lose one of them would destroy the other, he knew. He had always known as such, but if they truly were lovers then that loss would be felt tenfold and the remaining Prince would become a mere shade of his former self through widowed grief.

After this rebellion, the realm couldn’t afford to lose both of the strong, caring men who had taken over. A boy not three name days old was next in the line of succession if they lost Rhaegar and Haradarian. Even Viserys was too young at just seven years old. The crown would likely pass to Viserys with Queen Rhaella acting as a regent if both Rhaegar and Haradarian were killed, Prince Rhaegon was just too young for such responsibilities and pressures and he would be for another decade at least.
But that was only the worst case scenario. He was still holding out hope that Baratheon had merely been trying to put Rhaegar off of his stride, that he hadn’t agreed to marry Cersei Lannister when his supposed true love, Lyanna Stark, was still alive and well. But of course he could see the political advantages of marrying Cersei Lannister, not least it would earn him backing from the might of Tywin Lannister and the riches of Casterly Rock, but would Baratheon forsake his true love just for political advantages? Barristan didn’t believe so, which meant that he had been lying about the attack on Kings Landing. It wasn’t like Tywin Lannister to declare for the losing horse, either.
Perhaps he was just trying to talk himself out of the idea of Haradarian being attacked when he and the Kingsguard were here with Rhaegar, with the royalist army, so far away from him and useless. All Haradarian had with him were the gold cloaks and a few loyal men around him, he had one member of the Kingsguard, Jaime Lannister, with him, but the last they’d known he was injured and feverish, he might not be in a state to help, but if he was, would he do what he was sworn to do? If Tywin Lannister had declared for Baratheon, could any of them trust that Jaime would keep to his oaths? He had proven himself incapable of putting aside his birth house before, but if it was as black and white as purposefully betraying his King and handing him over to his Father to be killed in the name of Robert Baratheon, would he do as such? If it was a choice of his sworn house of Targaryen, or his birth house of Lannister, which would he choose? Barristan could not trust that it would be the King that Jaime chose, thus they needed to ride with all haste to the capital.
If Jaime did betray the Targaryens and the city and Haradarian was attacked, then Barristan didn’t know if the new King would survive the ensuing battle, because for the last few turns, he had become increasingly…scholarly was perhaps the kindest way of saying things, but Haradarian had not been training, he hadn’t touched a sword or a shield in several turns and he had shown absolutely no interest in hunting or even being near a horse. All he wanted to do was sit in the warm, comfortable solar and eat with his nose buried in book and once again he had gained a considerable amount of weight, particularly around his middle, as he had done just before his very serious illness two years previous. Barristan didn’t know what had happened or what had changed, but it had seemed to happen very suddenly to him, as it had two years ago, he did truly hope that this was not a foreshadow to a second, very serious illness, but his King was in no state to fight and his heart thumped harder in his chest. They needed to get back to him, they needed to protect him.

“Mount up.” Rhaegar told them seriously. “I’ve got as many men on horses as I can, but some are injured and can’t move quickly enough. We’re riding for Kings Landing, the main bulk of the foot soldiers will follow behind with the injured, but I need to get to Haradarian as soon as I can and if that means leaving behind the majority of the army, then so be it.”

Rhaegar swung himself up onto his horse and Barristan watched him go grey faced as he gasped in pain, one hand going to his ribs, right over the dent in his armour.
Barristan would have felt much better if Rhaegar would have seen someone about his ribs, but he wasn’t waiting and he barely waited long enough for them to get onto their own horses before they were leaving, charging off down the Kingsroad with as much of the healthy, uninjured army that could sit a horse. He just hoped that if Baratheon had been telling the truth about Tywin Lannister moving his forces to attack Haradarian at the capital, that Rhaegar had also been right about Haradarian keeping them outside the capital walls as he had done with their own forces when he had pulled them back to Kings Landing.
Barristan sent a heartfelt prayer to the Warrior that they made it back to Kings Landing in time to help if it was needed as he rode beside Rhaegar, who was cradling the baby Balerion in the crook of his arm, next to his heart, because he knew that none of them could face losing the sweet boy who was currently the King. None of them could face losing Haradarian the Heart.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

Harry woke up suddenly, to screams and clashes of metal on metal and his heart missed several beats. He sat himself up, dislodging Xeraxys from his chest. The blue dragon hissed at him, but Harry flicked him lightly with his finger as a gentle chiding.
He stood himself up eventually, after a few failed attempts thanks to his large baby belly, and he looked out of his window and he swallowed hard, bile rising in his throat as he saw Kings Landing on fire, the smallfolk screaming, as groups of armed men flying the lion of Lannister ran amok in the city, laying it to waste and burning all that they could find.
Harry barred the door to his bed chambers as a priority, before he flung open the dresser door and found his armour. Not much of it would fit over his pregnant stomach, but it would be better than wearing nothing at all.
He finished getting as much of his armour as he could onto his body, lacing up his boots tightly, before he went and got the tiny babe, Robb, from the room next door, hefting him into his own bed chamber and he closed the connecting door, barring that as well. He put the boy down in the second of the abandoned twin cradles, Helaena’s.
He heard the screams within the Red Keep and he swallowed the thick, bitter bile of fear back down as he controlled his breathing so that he didn’t start hyperventilating. Kings Landing was lost. His knees were shaking uncontrollably as someone tried to open his bed chamber door, only to find it locked.
A big, heavy body thudded against it and Harry found his sword and unsheathed it. If the bastards on the other side got through his meagre barrier, he would be ready…and then the Lannisters would pay for this attack. If he found out that Jaime Lannister had anything, anything at all, to do with this attack then he would have his head decorating a spike on Traitors Walk before the day was out, member of the Kingsguard or not.
His dragons were all awake because of the noise and clamour and at just a little over a week old, they were very unpredictable, but they were taking simple commands very well. Harry tried to convey that the people on the opposite side of the door were enemies to them, but as Pyrexian cocked his little head at him and chirruped and Viserion wobbled his way over to the bucket of water to take a drink, he believed that he’d failed miserably in his attempt.
Baby Robb started crying and Harry sighed, turning to push the babe further into the corner of the room, where he would be more out of the way and wouldn’t be accidentally harmed or easily slain.

“We know that you’re in there, pretty Prince. If you open the door, I promise to only fuck you once. I hear that you’re rather used to that.”

Harry sneered at the door. He hated that the news of his rape by a member of the Kingswood Brotherhood had spread through the Seven Kingdoms after his recovery, but there had been nothing to be done about it and it was something that he’d just had to get used to. Too many people had been involved in his rescue, too many of them had seen the state of him, locked in the crow cage on full view as he’d been and too many of them had been present when his attacker had allegedly taunted the Kingsguard about raping him to try and goad them into killing him quickly before they reached Kings Landing and the inevitable torture began.

“If you come in here, I’ll be sure to fuck you with my sword.” Harry growled, his heart pounding in his chest, his strong, confident words belying his utter terror as his bowels squirmed uncomfortably.

“The city is ours, in the name of Robert Baratheon.”

“It is unlike Tywin to make such a grave error of judgement. Joining in the battle before it is done.” Harry said, even as the door thudded as another heavy body hit it, making it judder in its frame.

“The battle is all but done.” A man snarled. “Robert will win! He’ll destroy the Royal army and he’ll be victorious.”

“Oh, I hadn’t heard that Tywin could dream the future.” Harry snarked. “What other talents has he been hiding from the rest of the Seven Kingdoms? Other than shitting gold, of course, we already know about that.”

“Enough of this, open this door!”

“Why don’t you open it yourself?!” Harry retorted.

“I didn’t think you were such a craven, pretty Prince, or are the rumours true and you are in actuality a Princess? That would explain why you’re not out there fighting in the war, why you’re hiding behind locked doors and cowering in your bed chambers, it would explain why you’ve never taken part in any tourneys, you’re a woman! I would love to find out, even if Jaime says that you’ve gotten fat and lazy, I’d still have a go or two at you and find out once and for all if you’re a pretty Prince or a pretty Princess.”

“I didn’t have you as a man lover. Do you really think I’m pretty?” Harry exaggeratedly cooed. “Will I be able to feel your cock? Is it bigger than your thumb? If it’s not, I don’t think I’ll bother, thanks.”

There was a yell of rage outside the door and there was a series of quick thumps against the door as someone rammed their shoulder into it repeatedly, hardly stopping to pull away before throwing themselves back at the door.

“Shall I take this to mean that your cock is not bigger than your thumb?” Harry asked innocently.

He moved around, preparing himself for the fight to come as he checked on baby Robb once more, made sure that nothing would get in his way and he got his biggest dragon onto his shoulder. He made sure that Rhaelys was settled and secured on his shoulder, before removing the barricade. He readied his sword and he took several deep breaths to calm himself and steady his nerves.
He unbolted the door, right as the body on the other side thumped into it, and the door flung open before he could touch it, smashing into his forehead and nose and he yelled out in pain, hot blood washing down his face. He only survived thanks to Rhaelys shrieking and he smiled viciously at the several men outside the door, particularly the big, heavy man who had smashed the door into his face. They had their swords out, and raised ready to hack and stab at him, but they were frozen to the spot as Rhaelys screeched again and they realised that what they were seeing was actually real and their eyes were not playing tricks upon them.

“This is Rhaelys.” Harry introduced through his teeth that were gritted in pain, trying to control the throbbing pain he felt in his head and face, blinking the blood from his eyes, so that he didn’t die in the next few moments. “Do you think that you will survive dragonfire? Let’s find out, shall we?”

“Jaime said that you were unsuccessful!” One man whispered, his face greyish-green and his eyes too wide with fear and panic.

“Jaime has been talking a lot it seems. But no, he is mistaken, we have five dragons. I have four and Rhaegar has one with him at the Trident, do you think that he’ll lose still? Because I don’t believe that he will. Rhaelys, burn them! Dracarys!”

Rhaelys did nothing for a moment, then Harry felt his baby heating up on his shoulder and he let out a stream of orange-yellow fire, veined through with green and it caught several cloaks on fire and that was all he could manage, but truly it was all that he had to do as the men threw down their arms and tried to run in utter terror. Harry cut down four of them as they ran, stabbing and slicing open their unprotected backs. He left the others to run back down the hall of Maegor’s Holdfast and he went back to his bed chamber. He took a small breather, steeling himself for what was to come as he tied the hostage, baby Robb, to his front with a sheet from the bed and he called his three other dragons to him, getting them sat on his shoulders too, jostling each other for position and balance.
He stormed back out of his bed chamber, wiping the fresh blood from his eyes and face, and he clenched his hand around the hilt of his sword. He cut down every man in his way as he made his way to the Great Hall, where the survivors of the assault on his bed chamber were rambling like maniacs to Tywin Lannister about dragons.

“He failed to hatch the dragons. I saw them fail!” Jaime Lannister insisted.

“I sent you away before you saw the successful attempt.” Harry said furiously as he walked into the hall with the four dragons clinging to him like very strange birds. Xeraxys was on his head, his little hooks digging into his scalp as he held onto his hair and his little head was cocked as he chirruped, looking at the two dozen people in the hall through bright gold eyes.

Men went mad, screaming like babes and throwing their swords down, falling to their knees and pledging fealty to him, begging for mercy and leniency.

“Burn them! Burn them all! Dracarys!” He roared and all four dragons understood that command and they took to flight, their bodies heating up like flying torches.

Their bodies were too heavy for their little, underdeveloped wings, and they flew very strangely, but their multi-coloured fire more than made up for it as they unleashed their flame on the intruders. They couldn’t melt metal or roast them in their armour, but any fabrics immediately caught aflame and that was all that was needed as men started running around, screaming, trying to claw off their cloaks or remove their armour to remove burning tunics or breeches.
The look on Tywin Lannister’s face was utterly priceless, then Harry caught sight of the body at the foot of the Iron Throne.

“You slayed my Father like he was mere cattle?!” He roared, smarting at the disrespect that had been showed to his family, even if he was glad that Aerys was finally dead, that was not the point. He had not been the King any longer and he would never have been King again, he had been no threat to him or to Rhaegar or to their family. He had been a mad old man, he had been no threat.

“He tried to kill you just yesterday! He was going to burn the whole city with wildfire with that queer alchemist Rossart, I had to do something, so I killed them both!” Jaime Lannister shouted back at him, drawing his sword. He was still wearing the white cloak of the Kingsguard.

“You killed him? You dishonour that cloak!” Harry snarled. “You never deserved it in the first place and it was given to you in spite! I’ll enjoy ripping it from your dead body!”

“Let us not be hastened to action.” Tywin interrupted, trying to backtrack his actions.

“Shut your fucking mouth, Lannister! You have shown your true colours here today and your actions speak louder than any words that can now come from your mouth! Rhaegar and I have done nothing to you, yet you still stormed Kings Landing, where you knew that I was staying, to kill me! You assumed that Rhaegar would be defeated, that is why you are here, but you made the wrong decision! You have backed the wrong side!”

Baby Robb cried from the sling that Harry was wearing and he sighed and peered down at the boy to make sure that he was unharmed.

“You have a babe with you?”

“Oh, it’s not mine. It’s Stark’s Heir.” Harry replied. “If he gets involved in the war now, I’ll fling the boy from the Red Keep and into Blackwater Bay.”

“How ruthless of you.”

“War really does change people it seems. Xeraxys, don’t eat that sweet one, you’ll be sick.” Harry said to the little blue dragon, who was gnawing on a dead man who was still aflame. Harry was firm in his teachings and he had said as much to Rhaegar, to prevent as many accidents as they could they would not allow their dragons to eat human flesh.

Xeraxys screeched and took flight, back to Harry, where he nuzzled him with a bloody muzzle.

“Don’t eat human flesh, sweet one. You only eat pork, mutton or beef.”

Jaime stepped forward and Harry narrowed his eyes on him, lifting his own sword. He was no match for the other, he knew it. He was no match for Jaime Lannister when he wasn’t six turns pregnant with blood pouring down his face and an infant strapped to his chest.

“Xeraxys, burn him.” Harry ordered the dragon on his shoulder.

“Perhaps we could reach another arrangement?!” Tywin cut in, standing from his seat in alarm.

“No.” Harry replied. “It is too late to talk now, the time for talking this out has gone. You chose your actions, Tywin and you’ve chosen wrong. That is your mistake and you will pay for it with fire and blood. Viserion, Rhaelys! Dracarys!”

Jaime tried to swing his gilt sword at the flying dragons, who were admittedly a little slow and Harry’s heart missed a beat as the sword almost took out his beautiful Viserion, who reared back in mid-air to avoid the swipe of the blade, only just in time.

“Burn him! Dracarys, Dracarys!” Harry roared quickly and Rhaelys reacted to the order first, unleashing his green veined flames, followed by Viserion, whose fire was pale gold shot through with red and orange.

Xeraxys joined in from his shoulder and Harry smiled to see the tiny blue sparks. Jaime Lannister screamed terribly as his white cloak was consumed by the multi-coloured fire of three different dragons and Harry stared on dispassionately as the white cloak was burnt, as Jaime Lannister burnt under the triple assault of dragonfire.

“Stop this!” Tywin shouted, but Harry’s eyes flashed as his tiny red Pyrexian popped up silently from behind the chair that Tywin had been sat in.

“You brought this on yourself, Lannister. Know that I will take Casterly Rock from your family and I will marry your daughter to a loyal knight of absolutely no renown. You’re ruined, your family is ruined. I will take great pleasure in crushing the entire Lannister family. Pyrexian, dracarys!”

Pyrexian’s flame was as red as his bright, beautiful scales and Harry swallowed hard as Tywin Lannister was consumed by flame, as his son Jaime was. The stoic, unsmiling man screamed just the same as everyone else.
He watched silently as the flames around him burnt down and he was finally alone in the Great Hall with his dragons and charred, bloody lumps of meat. Jaime and Tywin were dead, their men were scattered and his Father, the only person still recognisable in the room, was dead also.
He stormed back to Maegor’s Holdfast, killing running men either with a sword thrust to the back or by dragonfire as he went. He was exhausted, he was sweating terribly and he was in desperate need of a drink of water, a bath and a bed, but he had to make safe his home now. The home that was never meant to have been breached in the first place. He had thought of everything, he had stored up as much food and water as he could, he had kept the smallfolk calm and safe, but the lions had already been inside the walls…just the one lion, Jaime Lannister.
He was angry, fucking livid and he refused all begs for mercy as he ended the lives of those who had dared come into his home, dared to kill his people and had dared to try to kill him too. Baby Robb still strapped to his chest, as he killed men left and right, the babe was quiet, hopefully he was sleeping again as Harry was sure that he was dripping blood onto him from his nose and forehead.
His four dragons were getting stronger even as he watched them, their fires reaching further and burning hotter, their wings straightening out a little as the muscles around their wing joints strengthened with so much use. He was so proud of them and they had to have been as exhausted as he was, they were only babies still, after all, just a little over a week old.
Still Harry didn’t rest, he couldn’t rest. Not while there were potentially hostile people in his home, in his city. He vomited a few times, mostly from exhaustion and fatigue, but he couldn’t stop. He had to make safe his city, make safe his people.
Once his people saw him, in a halo of dragonfire and carrying a bloody sword, beating back the Lannister intruders from the Red Keep, they were moved to anger and ideas of revenge as well, away from the fear and terror of a few minutes before, and they picked up what they could, anything they could, broken wooden beams, kitchen utensils, swords from dead men, and they charged through Kings Landing, protecting themselves, avenging their neighbours or family, making safe their home as he led by example.

“Drive them out!” Harry roared to his smallfolk. “These scum who have killed the King, Aerys the second, and would have slain me too! These men who would have raped your daughters, your wives! These men who would have cut your throats and stolen your possessions and valuables! Drive them all out, kill them!”

The smallfolk screamed in inarticulate rage and with renewed vigour as Harry roused them from fear and panic to anger and hostility, they attacked any man wearing red and gold or with a lion on their breasts. Harry left them to it, left them with the vision of him, tall and strong, if a bit bloody, even as he ducked out of the way and vomited into a bush. He was six turns pregnant, this level of activity was highly unwise.
He made his way back to the Red Keep, killing as he went, and he pushed away his exhaustion, wiping his face free of blood yet again. He went hunting, finding all the craven men still skulking around the Red Keep like shades, all the men hiding in crevices and praying not to be found. He routed them all out with his four dragons and then he went to his most favourite place that wasn’t in Rhaegar’s arms. The silent, untouched godswood.
He settled under the heart tree and he let his dragons roam through the thick trees and flowers. He cradled baby Robb, cleaning his soft, innocent face free of the blood that had dripped onto him, thinking of his own babes. His beautiful, fierce Rhaegon and his beautiful, sweet girls, Haeraenya and Helaena. He hadn’t seen them in over half a year now and the thought brought a prickle of tears to his eyes. He hoped that Rhaegar was alright, that he and Balerion had crushed the rebel forces. He wanted this to be over. He wanted to secure his family on the throne, he wanted to publically announce his marriage to Rhaegar. He wanted to hold and love his children as his own children, not someone else’s. The only good thing to come from this sacking was that Jaime Lannister had killed Aerys. He had been the biggest obstacle in his and Rhaegar’s lives for so many years now and suddenly, with one moment, he was gone and they were free to claim the throne for themselves, free to claim their love for all to hear, free to claim their children as their own. Their beautiful, growing family.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

Barristan was almost sick as he rode into Kings Landing. He hadn’t wanted to believe the taunts of Robert Baratheon, nor the news carried to them by a messenger a few days later as they rode down the Kingsroad with all speed, telling them that the capital had been attacked the day before, that Aerys and Haradarian had been slain by Lannister men in the name of Robert Baratheon and the capital had fallen and was now flying the lion of Lannister.
The city was smouldering from where the fires had been put out and there were bodies piled high everywhere. The Lannister lion was indeed flying high on the battlements and from the Red Keep too.
Prince Rhaegar, exhausted and unrested, rode his tired, sweating horse straight to the Red Keep and straight into the Great Hall, his remaining Kingsguard following him, and there they found a dozen charred bodies that were unrecognisable and one body by the steps of the Iron Throne, pooled in blood. That body was of Aerys the second. The messenger had been telling them the truth.
Rhaegar leapt from his horse and he looked around almost desperately before he took off running, over the serpentine steps and to Maegor’s Holdfast. The Kingsguard once again followed him, ignoring their own exhaustion as they followed their new King down and then back up the serpentine steps, over Maegor’s bridge and into the small castle that the royal family ate and slept in.
Even the Holdfast was desecrated, there were scorch marks everywhere, tapestries were ripped, ancient ancestral armour was knocked over and there was blood smeared all over the walls and floors and bodies all over the corridors. The servants, gold cloaks, some loyal knights who had stayed with Haradarian…they were all dead.
Rhaegar all but run to Haradarian’s bed chamber, to find more charred bodies and blood and the untidy room empty.

“Haradarian! Harry, where are you?!” He shouted at the top of his lungs, his voice echoing off of the empty stone walls of Maegor’s Holdfast. “Oh gods, what if he’s dead?”

“He’s too resourceful.” Ser Arthur said as he nursed an injured arm. “Only dragons could have charred these bodies like this, unless someone was running around with wildfire. You said that he had four dragons here with him?”

Rhaegar nodded before shouting out at the top of his lungs. “HARRY?!”

There was no answer and all of them feared the worst, that Haradarian was dead and that the charred bodies had come from the out of control dragons that had been set loose in Kings Landing, even as Rhaegar ripped through, first Haradarian’s rooms and then his own bed chamber, before running back out.

“Where would he be?” Rhaegar said desperately.

“They might have put his body…”

“Don’t!” Rhaegar ordered poisonously. “He’s not dead. He can’t be dead! He can’t leave me like this…not like this.”

Barristan startled as a memory jolted free of his mind, of the last time that Haradarian had gone missing in such a way. “The godswood.” He said. “If he were anywhere in this madness, it would be in the godswood.”

Rhaegar stared at him for a moment, digesting his words, and then he was gone, running back out of Maegor’s Holdfast and back over the serpentine steps. He tore into the godswood, shouting his brother’s name. They got closer to the heart tree and Rhaegar yelled out again and then they heard an answering yell.

“Stop your fucking yelling! If you wake up Stark’s babe I’ll rip out your damn tongue!”

Barristan had never been so happy to see the angry face of Haradarian Targaryen in all of his life as they burst through the wild trees, to the clearing of the heart tree and found him drenched in blood, a blooded sword over his lap. He looked absolutely awful.
Rhaegar rushed to him, falling to his knees beside him and he embraced his brother tightly.

“I thought that you were dead.” Rhaegar cried, almost a sob at the delayed reaction to thinking that his brother had been killed.

“As if these cowardly lions could have taken on a dragon, much less four of them.” Harry smiled softly, wrapping his arms around Rhaegar’s neck. “By the gods it’s good to see you again. You look exhausted.”

“You’re covered in blood, are you alright?” Rhaegar asked, tearfully. “Are you unhurt?”

“This is mostly other’s blood, brother. I went on a killing spree when I realised that our home had been invaded, so stop fretting. I’m almost completely unhurt, except for my forehead and nose and my left shoulder.”

Rhaegar cupped his brother’s face gently before he touched the mentioned shoulder with the barest brush of his fingertips. “What happened?”

“I got smashed in the face with a door and Father stabbed me in the back with a table knife he hid from the servant who brought him his meal.”

“Did you kill him?” Rhaegar asked in shock.

“No, of course not, Jaime Lannister did. He also convinced Father to let his Father into the city before he killed him and that creepy alchemist, Rossart. I killed both Lannisters for their part in this.”

“Why didn’t you overrule Father? You were the King here, not him.”

“He’d stabbed me in the shoulder!” Harry said angrily. “I was cleaning the wound and attending to it in my bed chamber at the time. I didn’t expect anyone to even follow his orders, but I think Jaime Lannister again had a part in that. I believe that Jaime Lannister convinced Father to send the orders to open the gates to Tywin and then slew Father and Rossart. By the time I knew anything about it, Lannister’s men had already sacked Kings Landing and they were in the Red Keep.”

“What happened then?” Rhaegar asked as he got Harry sat in his lap and stroked his sweaty hair from his blooded face.

“Maegor’s Holdfast was infiltrated quickly. I’m sure Jaime knew where I was and he told his Father’s men where to find me. I barricaded the outside door and the connecting one, pushed baby Robb into the far corner, in the cradle and then I got into my armour and got my sword. When I was ready, I took away the blockade and that happened to be the exact moment that someone barged the door and it flew into my face. Oh, but you should have seen their faces when they saw Rhaelys on my shoulder, they all sort of froze in mid motion. It was very amusing now that I look back upon it.”

“Baratheon’s face was a picture too, when I showed him our Balerion.”

“Where is Balerion?” Harry asked.

Rhaegar opened the bag that he was carrying and pulled out the sleeping dragon.

“Oh, he’s gotten so big.” Harry said as he took his babe and cradled him gently.

“How are our other four?”

“Oh, they’re so beautiful, Rhaegar. They’re taking direction really well, though I had to stop them from eating the bodies that they’d burnt. They saw them as food, so I stopped that and chastised them for eating human flesh, but other than that, they were magnificent!”

“Where are they?”

“They’re roaming around the godswood, playing with one another.”

Harry let out an ear-piercing, terrifying screech of a call that startled even Rhaegar, but Barristan was stunned when one after another, four dragons hobbled out of the trees all around them using their forewings, to answer the terrible call of Haradarian, all except for the one, a beautiful deep green and bronze dragon, who flew in from a height and landed on Rhaegar’s shoulder, nuzzling him.
Haradarian smiled as he checked on the tiny babe with red curls who was sleeping in a sling tied to Haradarian’s body. He was sleeping peacefully and he seemed as plump as all babes were and he was healthy and completely unharmed. Barristan smiled proudly. He had known deeply within himself that his boy would never have harmed an innocent babe.

“We chased Stark off to Riverrun. He did take part in the battle at the Trident though.” Rhaegar sighed as he looked at the babe.

“Then there’s only one thing to do. Little Robb will stay here at Kings Landing as a hostage for the rest of his life. The same with little Renly Baratheon. He’s a boy of six years old, even if he had any clue what was going on in the first place then he wouldn’t have had any say in the matter or any true understanding of what was going to happen. He won’t be harmed. Stannis Baratheon must be put to death.”

Rhaegar nodded his agreement. “We need to start cleaning things up here. There’s been a lot of damage done.”

Harry nodded. “I was so exhausted that just getting over the serpentine steps was torture, but I went down to the city and rallied the smallfolk and they started attacking the fleeing Lannister men too, they’ve all seen the dragons now though, so we can’t hide them any longer. After that I came back and I routed out the Red Keep and Maegor’s Holdfast. I needed some peace though, away from the carnage and horror, so I came here. I stayed here all night and I haven’t moved since. I haven’t wanted to.”

“You’re six turns now, how are you feeling?”

“Tired!” Harry replied. “How many casualties have you sustained?”

“Over a thousand.” Rhaegar said and then sent a sad look to the Kingsguard.

Barristan watched as Haradarian followed his brother’s line of sight and he could almost see him counting them. The young man swallowed heavily, visibly.

“Where are Ser Jon and Ser Gerold?” He asked as calmly as he could, but his voice still wavered, his eyes already filling up with tears.

“They didn’t make it, Harry.” Rhaegar said softly.

Two tears fell smoothly down soft cheeks, cutting a clear path through the blood on Haradarian’s face and they were followed by many more as Haradarian flung his arms around Rhaegar’s neck and he sobbed for their two fallen sworn brothers.

“They gave their lives saving Rhaegar, as we are sworn to do.” Prince Lewyn gave a pained smile. “All of us, if we could choose a way to go, it would always be in the defence of our royal family.”

Barristan murmured his agreement of Prince Lewyn’s words with his remaining brothers, but he was touched that they meant so much to their little Prince. It was humbling to know that they weren’t just disposable bodies to him. That they weren’t just human shields.
Haradarian brushed his tears away and he stood, very clumsily, with the help of Rhaegar and he stumbled when he did get his feet under him.

“Are you sure that you’re uninjured?” Rhaegar asked worriedly. “You didn’t get a wound while fighting without knowing?”

“I’m fine, just really tired. We need to make safe the city. Pull your army inside the city and seal the gates, Rhaegar. I’ll send word to Mace and hopefully Storm’s End will surrender. There’s no point to carrying on the siege, they can’t stay in the fortress forever, they would have run out of food more than a turn ago. But we need to rebuild Kings Landing, burn the dead and then make things as easy and as painless for the smallfolk as we can.”

“You need to rest.” Rhaegar said sternly.

“I’ve had enough resting, I’ve been sat here overnight. We need to call for Stark to come here to answer for his crimes. Tully and Arryn too.”

“Jon Arryn was killed at the Trident. Tully was taken captive.” Rhaegar told him.

“I finally have a good reason to destroy that ugly Eyrie!” Harry giggled happily. “We’ll wait until Balerion is bigger and then we’ll take him up there and crush it!”

“You’ve never liked it.” Rhaegar smiled.

“I almost fucking died!” Haradarian complained and Barristan smiled, remembering holding the tiny six year old boy tightly to his chest as he sobbed, praying that his own donkey didn’t stumble and slip down the mountain. Haradarian had hated every single moment of his six day visit to the Eyrie.

“Have you eaten?” Rhaegar asked him concernedly.

“Not recently. It’s been over a full day since I last ate anything, almost two.”

“We’ll get you something to eat first, even if it’s camp food.” Rhaegar said. “You can make a plan of what needs to be done and in what order while we write to Mace Tyrell and to Riverrun.”

Harry sighed and he allowed his brother to lead him to the royal solar in Maegor’s Holdfast, almost carrying him down and then up the serpentine steps, their five dragons flying above them.
Rhaegar waited on his brother and took the babe, Robb, from him, putting him on a soft chair and covering him over with the completely undamaged blanket that Queen Rhaella had made.

“Did Grand Maester Gormon survive?” Harry asked.

“I shall go to his rooms and see immediately.” Ser Oswell said tiredly, moving off, back over the serpentine steps to the Grand Maester’s rooms.

“Everything’s such a mess.” Harry sighed exhaustedly.

“Maybe, but it’s over now.” Rhaegar soothed as he found something edible for Haradarian and then watched him eat.

“I won’t bring home the women and children just yet.” Harry sighed. “Not with Kings Landing in this state. Perhaps they might like to visit Dorne for a while?”

“I think that might be for the best.” Rhaegar smiled. “Ser Arthur, Prince Lewyn. It’s been a while since you last got to go home. Perhaps you would be so kind as to escort our family while in Dorne.”

“Of course, your Grace.” Ser Arthur agreed.

“I would be honoured.” Prince Lewyn smiled.

“We have three open slots on the Kingsguard.” Rhaegar prodded gently.

“Don’t.” Harry replied. “It’s too soon. Two dead and one who betrayed us and should never have worn the cloak in the first place. He was a disgrace.”

“He has paid for his disgrace, his betrayal, with his life.” Rhaegar said seriously.

“He saw us fail to hatch our eggs. You should have been here to see his face when he saw them with his own eyes. They tried to plead mercy, they tried to stall me from action, but Father’s body was just behind them, bleeding onto the floor like a sacrificed bull. I could hear the screams, smell the smoke and the blood as Kings Landing was sacked. I was not in a very merciful mood, especially not after being attacked, on their orders, in my own bed chamber.”

“I would imagine not.” Rhaegar said, before he sighed and sat down himself.

“You haven’t slept yet either.”

“No.” Rhaegar said softly. “When Baratheon boasted that he had made a marriage deal with Tywin Lannister for his daughter, Cersei, I knew then which horse Tywin had backed. I was frantic when Baratheon told me that Tywin was moving his host to attack Kings Landing. I finished him off with Kingsfire, after Balerion had set him on fire that was, and then I rode straight from the Trident. I didn’t stop more than I absolutely had to and I almost crippled my horse riding in the dark and then we met a messenger on the Kingsroad, who told us what I had most feared, that Kings Landing was aflame, flying the lion of Lannister and that you had been killed.”

“I had not yet been killed and as it seems, I was not to be killed during this attack. But Kingsfire, really? The Valyrian blade?” Harry smiled as he heard the name the blade had been given.

“I thought it fitting, we are both kings and we are surrounded by fire with these five babes.” Rhaegar said, stroking Pyrexian’s head, the little red dragon was perched on his shoulder.

Ser Oswell came back, escorting the frightened looking Grand Maester Gormon.

“Your Grace, I am so thankful to see you alive.” Gormon Tyrell quivered.

“I am happy to see that you escaped the madness.” Harry said genuinely.

“As soon as I saw what was happening, I barricaded the door and sent out ravens. I was worried that the fire might reach me, but thank all the gods that it didn’t.”

Harry nodded. “I need a messenger sent to Mace at Storm’s End and one sent to Riverrun. Stark fled there after Baratheon’s death. He will keep the Kings’ peace now that the rebellion is over. We have his boy.” Harry indicated the sleeping babe. “If he wants the boy to be unharmed, he will give himself over to the Kings’ Justice.”

“Robert’s rebellion was doomed from the start.” Rhaegar said as he drank some water from a skin. “It was ill thought out and over a missing girl who was found at Moat Cailin a week after Brandon Stark accused me of taking her.”

“She was walking to Kings Landing to come for you.” Harry giggled.

“Quite what she would have done had she actually reached here is entirely beyond me. It was more likely that she would have run afoul of a group of outlaws.” Rhaegar smiled to hear Haradarian’s laughter.

It soothed him, cleansed his mind and heart. It was starting to sink in, they had made it, they had survived and the relief that he felt at that kept him touching Harry, unable to stop himself. He bent forward and kissed a soft, smooth, if slightly bloody, cheek.

“I’m so relieved that you’re alright.”

Harry turned and he pulled Rhaegar’s head to his and he kissed him full on the mouth. It was not a brief peck on the lips either as they both held onto one another, their mouths lingering, touching, just reconnecting to one another. Grand Maester Gormon gasped so loudly at the kiss that Harry startled and looked at him concernedly.

“Are you alright?”

“You…you kissed him as if kissing a lover.”

“Yes, Rhaegar and I are lovers.” He said easily, seeing no need to hide as such now that Aerys was dead and the rebellion was put down.

Rhaegar threw an arm around Haradarian’s shoulders and pulled him in tight, kissing the side of his head gently.

“Lo…lovers?” Grand Maester Gormon stuttered.

“I had my suspicions.” Ser Oswell sighed even more tiredly. “Some of your conversations have been a bit…odd, to say the least over the years. I had wondered as far back as the tourney at Harrenhal, that’s when I became really suspicious.”

“I saw the same at Harrenhal.” Barristan nodded. “Then I witnessed the kisses between you when you presented Rhaegar with Kingsfire.”

“You two are quiet, did you not notice?” Ser Oswell asked Ser Arthur and Prince Lewyn as they remained silent.

“We knew from the start.” Ser Arthur said. “Or what I imagine was the start.”

“It wasn’t the start of our plans, but you were involved from the start of our true relationship.”

“How long has this been…going on?” Barristan asked.

“For years now.” Harry replied happily. “But it became a…sexual relationship when I was five-and-ten, it will be exactly four years in two turns, just before our Rhaegon’s third name day.”

“You are only just nine-and-ten now!” Ser Oswell complained.

Harry nodded. “I knew when I was eleven that I wanted to marry Rhaegar, I loved him.”

“Marry him?” Barristan said in shock. “You are married to Ashara and…and you both knew of this.” He said turning to Lewyn Martell and Arthur Dayne as his mind made sense of what he was being told. “Elia and Ashara are your kin…they are in on this too.”

“They are. We married them only to keep ourselves safer from Father. He is now dead and we need not fear him. He cannot null our marriage now that he is dead.” Harry explained.

“You’re already married?!” Ser Oswell asked, shocked.

Harry nodded. “We married after I arrived back from Oldtown, when I was five-and-ten. Ser Arthur and Prince Lewyn were witnesses along with Jon Connington. Our marriage to the girls are voided because we have never consummated.”

“Not to mention our marriages to them were automatically voided because we were married to one another first.” Rhaegar said softly.

“So…Rhaegon, Haeraenya and Helaena truly are bastard born?” Ser Oswell asked.

Harry sighed. “No. They’re the true born babes of Rhaegar and I. It’s rather difficult to believe, Prince Lewyn and Ser Arthur had a hard time believing it too, until I birthed Haeraenya and Helaena with them in the room with me.”

“So, you are really a woman?” Ser Oswell asked. “I did wonder from time to time if you truly were a…”

“No!” Harry shouted. “Why does everyone say that I look like a woman? I don’t!”

“You sort of do.” Rhaegar teased him.

“Shut your mouth, Rhaegar!” He said, turning away from his Husband angrily, who smiled adoringly at him.

“If you aren’t a woman, then how…how is it even possible?”

“It isn’t!” Grand Maester Gormon insisted.

Harry scoffed and he stood up. He unlaced his jerkin, slipping it off and then he pulled off his tunic, with Rhaegar’s help because of his injured shoulder, exposing his softly mounded breasts and the big bump.

“I’m six turns pregnant with our fourth child.” Harry said. “Stop looking at my breasts, Lewyn and look at the bump instead!” He snapped at Lewyn Martell.

“Sorry, they’re so adorable.” Prince Lewyn laughed. “They’re so tiny.”

“It’s because I’m a man.” Harry sighed, smiling as Rhaegar wrapped his arms around his waist and hugged his bump before raising his hands to cover the tiny mounds of his breasts. “I’ve carried my three babes inside of myself and I have to cut them out.”

“Cut them out?” Barristan asked worriedly, with more than a little bit of alarm thrown in.

Haradarian pushed down his breeches a few inches and there were several, thick, ugly scars across his lower belly, just before his groin. Barristan flinched to see them, knowing that those would have hurt terribly.

“If you still disbelieve me, then you can come into my chambers and watch me birth this babe, as Prince Lewyn and Ser Arthur watched the birth of Haeraenya and Helaena.”

“There is no Malana Maegyr, is there?” Barristan asked gently.

Harry shook his head. “No. I was never married before Rhaegar. We did travel to the free cities, but as soon as we realised that I was pregnant, we made our way back to Volantis and then over to Dragonstone. I birthed Rhaegon on Dragonstone, he was not born in Volantis. But for the sake of adding authenticity to our fabrication, we had to say that he was born in Volantis, that we buried my fictitious wife there before sailing home, when in reality I was stuck in my bed chambers, birthing my son and I was in pain for weeks afterwards, not grieving as we told others.”

“I don’t…I don’t believe this.” Ser Oswell exclaimed.

Harry approached him and picked up his hand and pressed it to his belly. The baby within, the calmest of all his babes thus far, was shifting slightly and Harry poked at his own side to keep the babe moving and Ser Oswell cursed and all but leapt back from him.

“It’s moving!” He exclaimed.

“It’s six turns old, almost seven, of course the babe is moving.” Harry scathed. “I birthed Rhaegon at seven turns, though Haeraenya and Helaena made it to nine.”

“You had to make it to nine so that we could claim Elia was seven turns.” Rhaegar said, coming back to hug him around the waist, unwilling to let him go and unwilling to be more than an arm’s span away from him.

“Do you know how difficult that was?!” Harry demanded of his husband. “I was so pained carrying the two of them that I couldn’t get out of bed in the mornings!”

“I was very proud of you.” Rhaegar praised him easily.

“You apologised to Rhaegar when you…when you broke down after your captivity.” Ser Oswell said and Harry dropped his head in sadness.

“I did. He was my Husband at the time and I felt that I had betrayed him. I felt filthy, used, to be touched by a man who wasn’t my beloved Husband sickened me.”

“It was not your fault.” Rhaegar insisted sternly. “He touched you without your permission, he took what you did not expressly give him and for that, no blame can be laid upon you.”

“I was pregnant when I was a captive.” Harry said sadly to those in the room. “Two turns. Due to the…the treatment that I received, I miscarried our second babe.”

“That was not your fault either.” Rhaegar told him gently. “We have moved on from that, no one will ever touch you again, no one will get the chance to forcibly make you miscarry again.” He said as he laid a hand over his swollen belly.

“You fought while six turns pregnant!” Ser Arthur exclaimed in sudden realisation.

Harry chuckled. “I never meant to. That is why I stayed here, in Kings Landing when strictly, I should have been at Rhaegar’s side, fighting with him. The sack of King Landing was never supposed to have happened. I was supposed to have been safe here, behind the walls and the sealed gates. We had enough food, morale was not particularly high, but it was higher that it should have been for such a time of war. We were safe, we were doing well and then Jaime Lannister let his Father into the city and they, who had declared for Robert Baratheon, sacked the city, killing all the people here, burning and raping. I could not stand idly by and do nothing. So no, I was never supposed to have been involved in the fighting, as I was six turns pregnant and thus I cannot move as easily, but I had no other choice. But I think we have both come through this well enough.” He smiled as he patted his bump, feeling his babe move slightly inside of him.

“I’m just thankful that you’re alright, my love.”

“I was so relieved to see you.” Harry smiled. “I’ve been so worried.”

“It is done now. We have won. We will send Mother and the others to Dorne while we rebuild Kings Landing and set everything to rights and then they’ll be home and things can go back to normal. You may yet have had our fourth babe by that time.” Rhaegar said.

“It would not surprise me. The stress of the last half a year has not been good for this babe. I am smaller than I should be and it worries me.”

“Try not to worry needlessly.” Rhaegar encouraged. “The babe is moving, surely that is a good sign?”

Harry nodded. “It is, but we won’t know for sure until after the babe is born.”

“You need your head sorted out.” Rhaegar told him concernedly, brushing away stray hairs that were matted with dried blood from Haradarian’s bloody forehead.

Grand Maester Gormon tentatively stepped forward, and when he wasn’t chastised for approaching the two of them, he stepped forward with more confidence as he sat at Haradarian’s other side and peered at the head wound and the cut on the bridge of Haradarian’s nose.

“I have had a look at it and they seem shallow enough.” Harry insisted, even as he subjected himself to the examination.

“They do seem rather shallow, they have been cleaned too, but not too thoroughly.”

“I never had the time to clean them properly. I just washed them out with a skin of wine.”

Grand Maester Gormon nodded as he inspected the cuts. “They just need some tending, but they won’t require stitching. They will heal themselves. What about this shoulder injury?”

Harry turned and Barristan sucked in a deep breath through his teeth at the wound.

“I couldn’t reach this one properly, but it was cleaned out as well as I could manage.”

“I can see.” The Grand Maester nodded as he peered at the cut. “It looks worse than it is due to the bruising around it. It is rather shallow too.”

They all ignored the obvious. They tried to pretend that Haradarian wasn’t a pregnant man in their midst and that he had carried and birthed three children already, that he was carrying a fourth babe that would also have to come out very soon.

“Will he be alright?” Rhaegar asked and Barristan couldn’t believe that he had never noticed the love, the concern that went far beyond mere brotherly love before. It was so obvious to his eyes now that he knew about it as he watched Rhaegar look at Haradarian and Haradarian smile back at Rhaegar. They acted like lovers and though he had known that something was going on between them, he’d had no idea that this was even a possibility.

“He’s going to be just fine.” Grand Maester Gormon insisted. “As far as I know.” He added looking at the bump with a bit of fearful trepidation.

“I’ll be fine. A week from now would be the exact gestation that I birthed Rhaegon at, almost three years ago now and he’s completely fine, better than fine really.”

“He’s growing so quickly.” Rhaegar agreed.

“I want him back here before his third name day.” Harry insisted.

“We’ll send a raven to Dragonstone and then Sers, if you could escort them to Dorne and then have them back here for Rhaegon’s third name day, we would be grateful.” Rhaegar said, first to Harry and then to Ser Arthur and Prince Lewyn.

“Let’s get to it then.” Harry said enthusiastically.

“You’re not going anywhere, except to bed!” Rhaegar said firmly. “You’ve had enough activity to last for the rest of your pregnancy.”

“This clean up won’t happen by itself.” Harry huffed.

“No, it won’t, but I’m more than capable of handling it myself.”

“Your Grace.” Barristan spoke carefully. “Perhaps you should rest too, your ribs.”

“His ribs?” Harry echoed before looking at Rhaegar. “Your ribs, what about your ribs? What have you done now that you aren’t telling me?”

Rhaegar seemed to only remember that he’d been hurt at that moment because he grimaced in pain and touched the dent in his armour. Harry watched him and his eyes widened at the deeply dented black armour.

“Oh, by the Seven, don’t tell me that that’s what I think it is!” Haradarian demanded.

“I suppose that depends on what you think it is.” Rhaegar tried to play off lightly.

“Is that caused by Baratheon’s fucking warhammer or not?” Haradarian demanded furiously.

“It was, but it wasn’t the pointed side.”

“I can see that it wasn’t the pointed side, if it had been, you wouldn’t be here right now, would you?!”

Haradarian stood and he carefully unbuckled the breastplate.

“If you die from this, I’ll never forgive you.” Haradarian insisted.

Rhaegar smiled and pulled his younger brother into a kiss. “I love you.” He said calmly and sincerely. “With all that I am and I will die happy knowing that I’d gotten a chance to have true love and happiness with you.”

“You’re not going to die!” Harry hissed out through gritted teeth. “Not until I’ve seen the damage that you’ve done to yourself and I throttle you for it!”

“I think that’s counterproductive.” Rhaegar said easily.

“Oh, you do, do you?” Harry snarled as he oh so gently eased the one side of the breastplate off of his brother’s torso, completely at odds with his furious tone of voice. “I think it’ll prevent any more utterly stupid situations such as this and save us all some heartache!”

“Bit of an extreme measure.” Rhaegar teased, his eyes screwed closed and his voice high and stuttered, likely from pain, as the dented side of the breastplate was very carefully eased away from his body. Barristan breathed a little easier when Rhaegar didn’t immediately keel over, but he knew that the dangers were not over just yet.

“Extreme? Oh no. Extreme is me tying you to our bed because you can mark my words on this, you will not be leaving that bed until I’m wholly satisfied that you are healed and won’t be doing anything of this sort ever again.”

“I’ll be there for the rest of our lives then.”

“Well, the rest of yours.” Harry teased. “We both know that I’ll definitely outlive you. I’m too stubborn to die.”

“Now that I can agree with, you already act like a withered old crone.” Rhaegar chuckled before he sucked in a breath as Haradarian’s long, slim fingers probed under his tunic.

“Breathe in deeply for me, my love.” Haradarian encouraged, very seriously and Barristan watched as Rhaegar’s chest inflated as he breathed in as deeply as he possibly could. “Hold it. Hold it!” Haradarian told him, his fingers moving and touching, even as his other hand touched and held to the pulse point in Rhaegar’s neck. “Slowly…slowly exhale, Rhaegar.”

Rhaegar did as instructed and Haradarian nodded to himself and he eased the damp, filthy tunic from Rhaegar’s body and Barristan was almost too afraid to look, but he kept his eyes on his King and he swallowed hard at the sight of the hideous black-purple bruise that had taken over the one side of Rhaegar’s body.

“This bruise goes bone deep.” Harry said seriously as Rhaegar peered at his own injury for the first time. “It’s going to be painful and it’ll restrict your movements until it’s fully healed, but though I fear a few ribs have cracked, none of them are out of place and you’re breathing normally enough. You’re in no danger of dying from this injury, but I’ll tell you now that it was a very close call, a more powerful blow, if you’d been a bit closer to Baratheon when he’d swung, and we might not be speaking right now.”

“Not to mention he almost drowned in the Trident afterwards.” Prince Lewyn put in helpfully.

Harry closed his eyes and he breathed deeply himself, in order to calm his hammering heart and his circling thoughts.

“I want you in bed and you will stay there until I deem you healthy enough to get back up. There’s nothing that I can do about your stupidity, it has no cure and no matter how much I want to confine you permanently to our bed for your own safety, alas I cannot.” Harry said seriously. “You will be there for some weeks, it’ll take that long for your cracked ribs to fuse back together and though they’ll never be as strong as they once were, they at least won’t cave in if you get hit in that spot again, but please, no more hammer blows.”

“No more hammers.” Rhaegar said as he breathed in relief, pulling Harry in close and just holding him.

They stayed that way silently, for several long minutes, just relishing in the other’s survival. They had come out of this rebellion, this war, relatively unscathed and bar a few injuries and one death, the royal family was completely unchanged and they were well enough and they would recover.
The Kingsguard was a different matter, however. They had lost two good, great men to Robert Baratheon personally. Ser Gerold Hightower, the white bull, named as such for his incredible strength, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, a man who had taught all of them what an honour it was, what it meant to wear a white cloak and to serve the royal family in the manner that they were supposed to and they had lost Ser Jonothor Darry, whose brother Ser Willem was on Dragonstone, guarding the Queen and the other ladies and the children, who didn’t yet know that his brother had not survived the war.
Then there was Jaime Lannister, a dead, charred lump of bloody meat on the Great Hall floor. A man who had turned his cloak, a cloak that was pure white and was duty, honour and oath bound to never turn, but turn he had. He had turned back to his birth house, forsaking the royal family that he was sworn to protect with his very life. He had killed King Aerys personally and likely would have done the same to Haradarian if given the chance, he would be buried as a Kingslayer and he would forever be remembered as a Kingslayer. The first Kingsguard member in history to ever kill a member of the royal family, such was his lack of honour and lack of discipline.
It was a true shame, because he’d had endless, boundless potential to have been the greatest knight and swordsman of all time, taking the current honour bestowed upon Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, whose arm was currently haphazardly bandaged up.

“How is your arm?” Barristan asked his brother.

Ser Arthur looked at him and then down at his arm, wrapped in parts of his own torn cloak.

“Whose arm?” Haradarian asked, pulling back at the mention of another injury and looking at the four of them suspiciously.

“I took a graze to the arm, nothing to fret about.” Ser Arthur insisted.

“Sit down, I’m not taking that chance. Ashara would have my balls decorating her bed chambers if I didn’t see to your injuries.”

Rhaegar laughed and Barristan had to smile as the air immediately lightened and it began truly sinking in. They had won. They had all survived relatively unscathed and they had won. There was truly no better feeling than this.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

It was the scream that woke him in the middle of the night. A sudden, blood curdling, agonising scream and Rhaegar about rolled out of the bed in fright.
He turned over and looked at Harry’s red, sweaty face, the too wide eyes, he heard the harsh panting and he knew what was happening immediately…his fourth child was ready to be born.
He flew up out of the bed and he rushed to the door. He unbolted it and pulled it open to meet the sword of Ser Arthur, who was on guard outside their rooms.

“The babe is ready to be born.” Rhaegar told him shortly. “I need all of the Kingsguard, and Grand Maester Gormon here. Send a servant to get boiled water, quickly, Harry needs to birth the babe quickly.”

Rhaegar ducked back into the room and he hurried to light several more candles and torches before going back to the bed and to Harry’s side.

“I can’t do it.” Harry sobbed to him.

“Of course you can, my love. You have done it twice before, four if you include our dragon babes. You’ve done this before and you can do it again now. I have faith in you.”

Harry reached out for him and Rhaegar held him tightly, hearing Harry’s laboured breathing in his ear, feeling the wetness from either his tears, his nose or perhaps his mouth, he didn’t know, he didn’t care as he stroked Harry’s hair and whispered soothingly to him.
Barristan Selmy, recently raised to the Lord Commander position, came striding into the room and he stopped dead, as he took in the scene in front of him.

“Ser, there is a hard leather case in that chest, can you fetch it for me?” Rhaegar asked as he slipped Harry’s sleeping tunic off of him, holding him to his chest gently.

Prince Lewyn and Ser Oswell joined Ser Barristan and they kept their distance as Rhaegar slipped Harry down onto his back. His baby bump was harshly exposed as Prince Lewyn hurried around the room, lighting even more candles and torches to cast more light for them to work with. Haradarian would have gone into labour in the middle of the night, just to make things a little more awkward.
Ser Arthur hurried into the room with Grand Maester Gormon and a large kettle of water.

“It’s too soon, it’s too soon!” Harry babbled.

“It’s not too soon.” Rhaegar soothed. “Rhaegon was born at this gestation and he was completely fine, he is still completely fine. You’ll be fine.”

“What do you need us to do, your Grace?”

Rhaegar turned. “I need that dagger.”

Ser Arthur was the one to grab it from the shelf and he handed it to Rhaegar, who unsheathed it, submerged it in the kettle of remaining water and wiped it off with a square of clean linen.

“Here we go again, my love. It’s all set up, it’s time.”

Harry was breathing deeply, his eyes unfocused and Rhaegar pushed the dagger into his hand and held it tightly, supportively.

“I can’t do it.” He wailed.

“Yes you can, you’ve done this before.”

“I’ll fucking kill you.” Harry told him and Ser Oswell actually startled at that declaration, automatically taking a step forward to defend Rhaegar, but realising that he couldn’t protect him from someone else that he was sworn to protect.

“He doesn’t mean it.” Rhaegar assured the Kingsguard. “He’s threatened to kill me with every labour. It’s his way of dealing with the pain.”

“This time I really will fucking kill you, you rat bastard!”

Rhaegar just smiled at the threats and he angled the blade, in Harry’s hand, to the line of scar tissue that marked where the blade had to be inserted. It was hard forcing himself to slice into his beloved Husband. It was harder listening to the almost inhuman screech of agony as the blade bit into skin.
With the next tug, the scream that Harry emitted echoed around the room and Rhaegar let him scream. They didn’t have to hide anymore, Harry could scream as much as he liked and it was more terrible than Rhaegar could have possibly imagined as every scream, wail and grunt ripped through his heart as he tore through Harry’s skin, opening him up, trying to work around the brilliant red blood. It was so raw after the battles that he had fought in, seeing men dying, seeing men wailing as Harry was, as they held their insides in their hands from gut wounds similar to those that he was inflicting upon Harry, his hands stained with his Husband’s blood. He shivered and steeled himself. Harry needed him.

“Can’t, no…NO!” Harry yelled out and one foot slammed into the feather mattress as the next scream echoed in Rhaegar’s ears, changing in pitch to get higher and shriller.

“Is the bowl ready?” Rhaegar demanded over Harry’s screams as he hacked through Harry’s body. The scar tissue made cutting the skin very, very difficult and he had to use much more force than the previous pregnancies to cut Harry open.

“Yes, your Grace.” Prince Lewyn insisted, holding the bowl of boiled water in his arms ready.

Harry almost cut him off with a screech so loud that every servant in the Holdfast would have woken with it.

“Get it the fuck out of me!” Harry yelled into his face, his green eyes wide and crazed with pain. Rhaegar hated seeing Harry this way.

“Ser Arthur, you remember how to make the healing solution?”

“Yes, your Grace, shall I make it now?”

Rhaegar nodded his head. “Someone ready the needle and sinew.”

“I have that, your Grace.” Grand Maester Gormon said, staring with avid fascination at the proceedings, as only a man of steadfast learning could.

Rhaegar nodded and he handed off the blooded dagger to Ser Oswell, who looked so pale that Rhaegar worried that he was about to pass out, but he had no time to worry about anyone else, all of his attention was on Harry, writhing and screaming under him.
He slid his hands into the slit of Harry’s belly and he felt hot, slimy things, soft tissue and then he felt his new babe, he felt along what he thought was the torso and up to the neck and he pulled the babe out as the four Kingsguard members and Grand Maester Gormon watched on as the blooded babe was slid free from Harry’s body and placed into the bowl of water.
Rhaegar ignored that Ser Oswell heaved as if he were going to be sick, instead he turned back to Harry as Ser Arthur used the dagger handed to him to cut the new babe’s cord and between them, Prince Lewyn and Ser Arthur sorted out the new babe as Rhaegar helped Harry rip out the placenta with the most agonising scream that he had ever heard his Husband make.
Rhaegar threw the placenta, with its portion of cord behind him with a wet, bloody splat and he heard Ser Oswell heaving continuously.

“If you’re going to be sick, Ser, I suggest that you leave the…”

“Fuck off!” Harry roared over him.

“Yes, that was the gist of what I was saying.” Rhaegar sighed. “Harry doesn’t need this.”

“I’m fine.” Ser Oswell insisted after several hard glares from his sworn brothers.

Rhaegar tried to get Harry to stitch himself up, but he refused. He went entirely floppy and Rhaegar feared for the worse for a heart stopping moment and he shook Harry hard.

“Piss off you goat fucker!” Harry declared, his eyes still closed, and Rhaegar breathed easier.

“You need to stitch yourself up, Harry.”

“Hurts too much.” Harry sighed quietly. “Just leave it. I am ready to die.”

“You are not dying!” Rhaegar hissed as he tried to take Harry’s hand. “I won’t let you!”

“I can do that, your Grace.” Grand Maester Gormon insisted, almost pushing him out of the way as he took back the needle and sinew.

Rhaegar watched as the Grand Maester started stitching Harry up with the ease of a well-practiced, well learned hand, in small, very neat stitches that calmed him down. The Grand Maester knew what he was doing and he could stitch Harry up a lot quicker than he could with an uncooperative Harry.
He turned to Prince Lewyn, who had tied off his new babe’s cord with a harp string and was drying the babe off with a clean linen cloth.

“Is the babe well?” He asked having not heard a cry as he dipped his hands into the kettle of water to clean them and his arms.

“A boy, your Grace.” Prince Lewyn grinned at him. “He seems well enough, his eyes are open.”

Rhaegar took his newly born son and peered at him closely. He was pink skinned, slightly bloated because of his birth, but he was clean and his eyes were open and clear. He breathed in deeply and looked to the bed.
Harry had taken the milk of the poppy already, he was knocked out and he was in good hands as the Grand Maester applied the salt and clove solution to the newly stitched line of his belly.

“This certainly was eye opening.” Ser Barristan said as he peered at the babe in Rhaegar’s arms.

“We wanted you to be here to witness that we are not lying. Harry has a gift given to him by the gods. He can carry my babes and he can birth them. This is our second son, whom you have all seen being pulled from Harry’s womb. Let no one declare us liars.”

“Is he going to be alright?” Ser Oswell asked, looking ashen faced, to Harry in the bed.

“He’s done this four times already, this is the fifth, four babes and two dragon eggs. He’ll be fine with some rest.” Rhaegar sighed.

“I agree.” Grand Maester Gormon said as he washed his own hands clean of blood. “With some rest and some milk of the poppy, as long as this wound is kept clean and free of infection, he’ll recover.”

Rhaegar nodded and snapped his head down when his newly born son made a soft sound. Those blue eyes peered up at him and Rhaegar smiled.

“He’s going to be just fine and our new son will be just fine.” Rhaegar said with a smile.

“The same as always, he will be named and blessed a week from now?” Ser Arthur asked, looking on proudly.

Rhaegar nodded. “Yes. As soon as Harry is well and off of the milk of the poppy and able to make a rational decision, we will name our new son. You’ll of course be the first to know with our family still on Dragonstone while the clean-up is progressing.”

“Look at that silver hair, though. Your first babe to take your hair.” Prince Lewyn chuckled.

Rhaegar looked at the damp tufts of hair, but he noticed in the low lighting of the flickering candles and torches that the hair wasn’t black as Rhaegon, Haeraenya and Helaena’s hair had been. It was paler, made dark by the impromptu bath he’d just had, but it definitely was silver-blond, like his own.

“You’re right.” He said excitedly as he pulled his newborn son up to his face so that he could press his cheek to his babe’s. He inhaled deeply and he smiled, laying a kiss to his son’s head. “I need a wet nurse here for him. Harry doesn’t like feeding them too often while he’s on the milk of the poppy as it adversely affects the babes too.”

“It will be done, your Grace.”

Rhaegar turned back to the bed and he sat in a relatively blood free spot and he laid his son gently on Harry’s bare chest, letting Mother and son bond a little through skin to skin contact, even if Harry was knocked unconscious. He watched them with a smile as his son’s blue eyes closed as he fell asleep, contentedly listening to his Mother’s slowing heartbeat.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

Five full turns after the end of the rebellion and a lot of things had changed, there was once again order and calm in the realm. Eddard Stark had presented himself to them at Kings Landing after the threat was issued to kill his babe and his younger brother, Benjen, who was still in Winterfell and had had no part in the rebellion.
Lord Hoster Tully had been executed, despite the begs and pleads of his daughters and his son, and all the other Tully’s had been evicted from Riverrun. Harry had gifted it to Lord Dayne, so he could become Lord of the Riverlands too, but in truth it was a gift to Ashara, whom he did love, as a sister or a very dear friend. She was going to rule as Lady of Riverrun when she returned from Dragonstone, so that Lord Alyn Dayne didn’t have to leave his home at Starfall.
Harry had rewarded Mace Tyrell, who had been able to build several small boats and slip under the curtain wall to take Storm’s End by force and taking both remaining Baratheons hostage, by extending his territory of the Reach to include some of the now forfeit Stormlands.
Harry and Rhaegar had decided to take Storm’s End for their own family, starting a cadet branch of their family, it would be the home of their third son when they actually had a third son, until then it was under the command of a castellan.
Their brother, Viserys, was now the Prince of Dragonstone and they had started rebuilding Summerhall as a priority because their five dragons were getting much bigger now at five turns and they needed more space. But there would be four cadet branches of their family soon. The Targaryens of Kings Landing, of Dragonstone, of Summerhall and of Storm’s End.
Casterly Rock had been left to Tyrion Lannister, under the care of Oberyn Martell to honour house Martell for their loyal service. Winterfell had been left to Benjen Stark, as he had taken no part in the rebellion and his brother had handed himself over calmly and with no fuss, and the Eyrie had been given to a man who had almost died to protect Harry when a rebel loyalist had tried to stab him as he surveyed the damage in the city in order to prioritise repairs. The rebel had been killed and Harry had seen to the loyal man’s injuries personally and then he had rewarded him heavily with a Lordship and the Eyrie.
Rhaegar had been allowed to get up out of bed after his constant complaining had gotten too annoying for Harry to endure for a moment longer, but perhaps the biggest event that had happened was that Harry had given birth to a babe in front of the four remaining members of the Kingsguard and Grand Maester Gormon, at seven turns pregnant as he had with Rhaegon. He’d had a second boy who had been born with Rhaegar’s silver hair. They had named him Baelon.
Their other family members, who had remained on Dragonstone instead of going to Dorne because their Mother was heavily pregnant and she was unable to move as easily and was suffering badly with Mother’s sickness, were to arrive back home today but it was not in time for Rhaegon’s third name day, which was three turns past. Harry had been upset about that, but it had been too dangerous and dismal to bring his children home, especially after the attempt on his life. It had still been too unsettled at that time and the lives of his family meant more to him than bringing his family home too soon, just to celebrate his son’s name day. He and Rhaegar had instead had a cup of wine each to celebrate privately.
Maegor’s Holdfast and the Red Keep, both relatively undamaged by the attack, because Harry had routed out all the invaders as he’d taken to thinking of them, had been cleaned from top to bottom and all the bed linens had been changed and aired out. Everything had been put back to rights and there was no sign of the previous damage done, nothing was out of place and all damaged or broken items had been replaced.
Kings Landing had been repaired and all of the dead bodies had been burnt, unless they had been highborn, in which case they had been returned to their families to be interred in family crypts and tombs. Eddard Stark and Robert and Stannis Baratheon had all been beheaded and their bodies sent, with Eddard Stark, to Winterfell for Benjen to do with as he wished.
The five dragons had free reign of Maegor’s Holdfast and now that they were flying strongly and steadily, they were getting around rather quickly these days. Harry made sure to keep Baelon with him at all times, as a precaution, as he forced himself to stand and walk through the pain of birthing this time, there was just far too much to do for him to stay in bed, but he had been forced to rest for the first week and a half, just because of the sheer agony he’d been in. But he was getting more used to the pain now, desensitised to it, and he was up on his feet much quicker than he had been in the past, but he always had a man or two hovering around him at all times, whether that was Rhaegar or Lord Jon Connington, or a member of the Kingsguard. He always had someone with him to keep an eye on him or to lend a hand if it was needed.

“How is he?” Rhaegar asked as he joined Harry in the solar, peering at his second son, who was now four turns old and the only one of their babes to take his silver hair, and had taken his purple eyes too. He looked like a copy of Rhaegar and Harry pulled his babe up to kiss him before handing him over to his Father.

“Quiet and sleepy. His activity levels still haven’t picked up and I’m worried that the stress during my pregnancy has affected him mentally.”

“He’s fine.” Rhaegar soothed his fears gently. “He’s just like me. Quiet and relaxed. I bet he’ll be a studious child when he grows too, as I was.”

Harry breathed deeply and he sighed, smiling as a dragon the size of a large dog came barrelling into the room to lay its head upon his lap, making a purring, growling noise of pleasure as Harry scratched across the beautiful blue scales and over the silver and gold ridges and spinal plates.

“Hello Xeraxys.” Harry greeted softly.

Rhaegar reached out and stroked his hand over Xeraxys’ beautiful sky blue scales. He had grown in beautiful silver horns and his eyes were gold, like his brother, Viserion’s.
They suspected that their Rhaelys and Pyrexian had switched their gender to female, but they had no proof of such as dragons didn’t have external sex organs like humans, or most other animals, did and the first sign they would have of such things would be when their dragons matured enough to start laying eggs of their own. Harry was excited for that, but he was glad that it wouldn’t be happening for some time, especially with the settling they had to do after the rebellion five turns before.
Already they had had smallfolk claiming that their livestock had been stolen by one of the dragons, they were of course branded as liars and sent on their way sharpish. Four of their five dragons were the size of large dogs, only Balerion was bigger, about the size of a small sheep, and none of them had gone any further than the gates of the Red Keep. Harry had told the smallfolk sternly that if their livestock was going missing then it was likely due to bandits and thieves and he advised them to take precautions against such. Those who had actually seen or been near the dragons knew that they were not yet big enough to fly while carrying anything at all, much less missing pigs or cattle.

“When does the ship get in?” Harry asked impatiently.

“Soon.” Rhaegar said, slightly distracted by their Baelon, who was burbling happily from his arms.

Another dragon skidded into the room and Viserion leapt onto the table, making the solid wood quiver. He screeched and nudged at Harry like a cat looking for attention and Harry obliged him by scratching his cream scales, right between the golden horns. He opened his mouth with a happy chirrup and displayed his dagger sharp, jet black teeth, getting a bit too close to the four turn old Baelon.

“Careful, Viserion.” Rhaegar cautioned deeply, shifting Baelon to his other arm and using his freed one to stroke over cream belly scales.

Viserion made a soft, happy noise and it made them both smile. Harry stroked Xeraxys and he sighed happily.

“I love you, Rhaegar.”

Rhaegar looked up at him and chuckled. “I love you too.” He bent forward and kissed him gently on the mouth.

“We have so much and we could have lost it all.”

“No more crowning women at tourneys for me. I’ll crown you every single time.”

Harry laughed, able to see the absurdity of it now that the rebellion was over and laid to rest. Lyanna Stark had been confined to Winterfell since the incident by her younger brother, Benjen. Harry had heard that she was betrothed again, to Galbart Glover. She would be staying north of the neck now and would not be coming south again, at least not without her brother or new Husband to escort her to make sure that she behaved herself.

“Your Graces.” A servant directed at both of them. “I have word from Lord Commander Barristan Selmy, the royal ship can be seen entering Blackwater Bay.”

“Thank you.” Rhaegar answered. “Please bid them to come straight here, it has been too long since we last saw them.”

“I hope their journey was smooth, that storm the other day was nasty. We need to build a new fleet.”

Rhaegar sighed and shook his head. “Nearly an entire fleet of ships, destroyed by one storm.”

“It was a very nasty storm. Baelon wouldn’t sleep with the thunder and the lightning flashes and the dragons screeched all night.”

“It is their first true storm, spring is in the air again and not a false spring this time.”

“We’ll be getting a white raven from the Citadel soon, if that’s the case. Perhaps we could stay out until dusk if spring is coming back, we could take court at a newly built Summerhall, where our babes can run amok in the gardens.” Harry sighed wistfully, smiling at his daydreams. “Haeraenya and Helaena are going to be two in just three turns. It’s been almost a full year since we last saw them all.”

“They’re home.” Rhaegar soothed him gently. “Our beautiful babes are docking as we speak and they’ll be escorted here to us very soon.”

Harry smiled and he stood to move around a little, anxious to hold his babes to him once more and he packed away as much clutter as he could, making sure that everything was as it should be, picking up a chair that Rhaelys, who had stormed into the room, had knocked over, before he was chastised by Rhaegar for picking anything heavier than Baelon up with his healing belly wound.
He shimmied the dragons all out into the enclosed, private garden that attached to the back of the solar and he watched them settle down in the grass, the sun beating down upon their beautiful scales, warming them up and making them sleepy and contented.
Harry was so excited when Ser Arthur, fully recovered and fresh form a trip home to Dorne, carried in the three year old Rhaegon. Harry rushed to him and plucked up his babe and cradled him in his arms, kissing his face.

“Oh, my sweet babe, are you alright? Do you remember me?”

“Ma.” Rhaegon declared and he kissed Harry’s mouth before giggling. “I missed you.”

“Oh, I missed you too.” Harry sniffled, almost in tears from a build-up of emotion.

Ser Oswell and Prince Lewyn had a squirming, almost two year old, girl each and Harry indicated for them to be placed down on the table. He embraced them, all three of them, without needing to pick them up and risk having Rhaegar shout at him.

“Oh my sweet babes.” Harry sniffed hard, being overcome by his emotions.

Rhaegar’s hand touched his back in silent support and he bent forward himself to kiss their babes in turn.

“This is Baelon, your new brother.” Rhaegar said and Rhaegon immediately bent forward to coo at him.

“He’s so little!” He said in amazement. “Little baby.”

“Another baby.” Haeraenya said with a toothy grin.

Helaena said nothing, she just buried her face into Harry’s chest and clutched at him. Harry stroked her head and back and played with her long curls. His two girls were different, they looked more grown up than when they had left and Harry tried to absorb that change. He’d been away from them for far too long.

“Another baby?” Rhaegar questioned, picking up on what Harry hadn’t in his distraction.

“I am so sorry, your Grace.” Barristan Selmy said, approaching with a tiny, wrapped newborn.

Harry took the babe and looked at blue eyes peering out from under long tufts of silver-blonde hair.

“Mother has had the babe. Is she well? Where is she?” Harry asked. “I wish to assess her myself.”

“It was during the storm a few days past.” Ashara stepped forward to tell him, her eyes were already welled with tears and Harry’s stomach sank like a stone in a river.

“She has passed into the Stranger’s hands, hasn’t she?” He asked quietly, feeling detached from his own body, his own words.

Ashara just nodded and Harry’s ears rang, blocking out all other noise as he panted, trying to catch his breath from the massive emotional blow that had been dealt to him.

“No! She can’t be dead!” Rhaegar fumed. “I read a letter, written in her own hand, not four days past!”

“She died in childbed.” Ashara said, her bottom lip trembling as a tear escaped to roll down her cheek. “She gave you a sister and she named her Daenerys. She already has the epithet Stormborn.”

Harry swallowed hard and he nodded, then he nodded again, trying to find his voice. “Daenerys Stormborn. I…I will have the second cradle cleaned up, dressed and placed in our chambers for her.”

“Did you have your fourth babe? Or was it fourth and fifth?” Ashara tried to lighten the mood, it worked slightly as Harry smiled and touched a silver curl on his son’s head, still in Rhaegar’s arm.

“Just the one, Ashara. Baelon.”

“A second Prince? That’s two of each you have now.”

“Where is Viserys?” Rhaegar asked suddenly. “How is he handling Mother’s death?”

“Not very well, he’s blaming Daenerys.” Ser Willem Darry stepped forward, a sleeping Viserys on his shoulder. “He sleeps more since Queen Rhaella passed.”

Harry sighed and he touched his brother gently. “Put him to bed, Ser. I’ll speak to him later, when he awakens.”

“Where…where is Mother?” Rhaegar asked.

“Her body has been brought back, would you like for us to build a pyre for her?” Barristan asked.

Rhaegar swallowed visibly, but he settled his shoulders and he nodded. “Yes, that would be for the best, Ser.”

“We need to make an official announcement.” Harry said tonelessly. “Queen Rhaella is dead, but she has given us another Princess, Daenerys Stormborn.”

“Are all the rebels dead?” Ashara asked worriedly.

“If all of them had been killed, Ashara, we’d have hardly anyone left to rule.” Harry said sadly. “Nearly every great house was against us after Father killed two hundred men and their sons, along with Lord Rickard and Brandon Stark and many of the noble houses followed. Even the Lannisters turned against us in the end.”

“We heard rumours on Dragonstone, did Jaime really kill Aerys?”

Harry nodded. “He did, he slit his throat almost to the bone. Who are we to trust if even the Kingsguard turn their cloaks?”

“I find that highly insulting.” Prince Lewyn teased and Harry was forced to smile.

“I’m sure that you do. But Lannister or not, I never, never, would have believed Jaime capable of killing his King and opening the gates to the city for it to be sacked by his Father’s men. I never would have treated his injuries myself and housed him in the Red Keep if I’d had any doubts at all that he was capable of anything to this end. It was very shocking and it has broken my trust, it’s why we’re having difficulty in raising three new members to the Kingsguard. We trust you four implicitly, but to raise three new members, it would mean that almost half the Kingsguard will be new and I don’t have that level of trust any more and I find it difficult to turn my back to anyone. I need to keep them in my sights and the closer they get, the tenser I get.”

“The rebellion is over.” Rhaegar comforted him.

“But not everyone is happy that we won.” Harry sighed sadly.

“They will settle down.” Rhaegar insisted. “What would harming us do now? We have dragons.”

“We’d heard that rumour too.”

“Again, that isn’t a rumour. It’s true.” Harry said with a smile. “If you come here, you can see two of them sleeping under that table outside.”

Ashara approached cautiously and she let out a gasp as she caught sight of Rhaelys and Viserion curled up around one another out in the small garden.

“By the Seven, it’s true!” She said, turning to Elia, who didn’t approach.

“They won’t harm you.” Rhaegar said dismissively. “They’ve been taught not to eat humans and they only use their fire on command.”

“Don’t they have accidents?” Ashara asked.

“They have people whom they don’t like and they show it by hissing as a warning, and like a snake, they will snap at fingers and hands that go near them out of the blue, particularly when they’re sleeping as they are now. They do not like to be disturbed, but other than that they’re very affectionate.”

“What about Baelon?” Elia asked worriedly.

“What about him?” Rhaegar said. “The dragons are of course curious about him, but they mean no harm to him, but as a precaution we’re not about to leave any of our babes alone with our dragons. They’re very curious and now they’re very big.”

Harry watched his three babes on the floor, Helaena not moving too far from him and she kept looking back over her shoulder at him, as if making sure that he was still there. It broke his heart.
He crouched down, onto the floor and he sat down and his youngest daughter smiled at him and rushed back to hug him, being careful of her newborn Aunt Daenerys.

“Go and play, sweet one.” He encouraged gently.

“No go?”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Harry insisted firmly. “And neither are you. Not anymore.”

Helaena smiled wondrously at him and it warmed Harry’s heart. She toddled off on quick little legs and she picked up a wooden doll with a beautifully painted face and real hair. Harry sighed and looked down at his quiet sister.
He smiled at her and touched her soft pink cheek. She was only a few days old, but already she was an orphan.

“When was she last fed?” Harry asked.

“On the ship.” Ashara nodded. “She has a wet nurse, but I suppose with Bae…” Ashara trailed off with a quick, fearful look to Ser Barristan and Ser Oswell.

Harry chuckled. “They know, Ashara, have no fear. They watched as Baelon was pulled from my belly in a gush of blood and fluid and from what Rhaegar recounts of the moment, poor Ser Oswell almost vomited.”

“I wasn’t that bad!” Ser Oswell defended himself.

Harry laughed. “I no longer feel any shame in feeding my babes. I just strip off and feed them now, I suppose it won’t be too strange to feed my sister too. I am almost twenty and she’s just days old. She is younger than my two sons, than my two daughters.”

“Someone has to raise her.” Rhaegar told him. “It might as well be us.”

Harry nodded and he kissed Daenerys for the first time, smiling as she yawned and closed her pale blue eyes. He just knew that they were going to go a brilliant purple.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

Their coronation was a heavily attended, forced affair. The High Septon had initially refused to crown them after it had emerged that they were lovers and that the four royal children were their own true born babes. He had renounced their marriage, to which they had replied that the Faith couldn’t undo a marriage in the eyes of the old gods, he had then claimed them unnatural demons and had even tried to insist upon Harry’s ‘sacrifice’ to the Seven in order to cleanse his children of his dark taint.
Rhaegar had threatened to slit open the High Septon’s belly and force him to eat his own insides if he ever mentioned sacrificing Harry ever again. He would no longer allow anyone to even jape about such things and he became very angry at any mention of Harry’s death. He had been reminded, with their own Mother’s passing, how very dangerous childbirth was and that it could very easily take his Husband’s life.
They had told the High Septon exactly what to say on pain of death, making sure he mentioned liberally that Harry had been born in the Great Sept, that he had been blessed by the Seven, particularly the Mother, on whose holy day he had been born upon and all the while, their four children, their brother and sister and their five dragons were in attendance with them.
Their dragons got more attention than they did, even as they held hands as their newly forged, twin crowns were laid over their heads by the High Septon, their foreheads still glistening with holy oil from their blessing.

“You will acknowledge our legal marriage in the Faith.” Harry ordered, narrowing his eyes as the High Septon made to scurry off.

“I can’t.” The man quivered. “It’s not right, it is not…”

“You are acting as if we are giving you a choice.” Rhaegar said under his breath. “You can be easily replaced, as Grand Maester Pycelle was replaced when it suited us more favourably.”

“He…he was breaking his oaths. I have not…”

“Perhaps he was breaking his oaths, but not on the day that he died. That was a fabrication on our part to remove him from office and put a more trusted person in his place. The same will happen to you if we wish it.” Rhaegar smiled nastily.

“You’re monsters, you’re both monsters.”

“We are monsters who can easily have you charged with treason and have your head decorating a spike on Traitor’s Walk.” Harry said softly.

The High Septon gulped, his fat chins wobbling with the action. He mouthed wordlessly for a few moments, but he found his voice when Rhaegar’s hand drifted obviously towards his Valyrian steel sword, Kingsfire, decorating his hip for their coronation. His action went unnoticed by most others, but the Kingsguard saw it and thinking that there was a threat, they reacted on impulsive reflex and they pulled in tighter, advancing a step forward and, reminded of their protection, of their honour guards at their backs, the High Septon started speaking in a high, reedy voice.

“I…the Faith of the Seven recognises the…the union between our two new Kings, his Grace Rhaegar and his Grace Haradarian, who married under the old gods four years past and we…we accept this marriage in the name of the Seven, in the Faith, and the Seven…the Seven blesses them. The Warrior kept his hands over our King Rhaegar at the Trident while the Mother lent her strength to our King Haradarian, so that he might bir…birth their four, true born children.”

“Accept them.” Harry hissed dangerously as there was a small pause. “Now!”

“The Faith of the Seven accepts these miracle babes!” The High Septon called out fearfully and the smallfolk cheered fervently, not even noticing the state of sheer terror that their High Septon was in.

The noise of the cheering smallfolk stirred Pyrexian, who lifted up his head and screeched. A lot of women screamed, men yelled out and the High Septon about pissed himself, clutching at his chest and gasping for breath.

“Settle, Pyrexian.” Harry called out softly and the beautiful red dragon looked at him, stretched languidly, before laying back down and closing his red eyes. “Carry on High Septon, please.” He smiled, all charm and innocent beguiling, as if he were still but a small boy as yet untainted by horror and war and the smallfolk lapped it up, taking everything in their stride as they looked at their silver Prince Rhaegar and Haradarian the Heart, who had both been so strong, so formidable during the war that they could do no wrong in the eyes of their people. Not even the news of the dragons, of their marriage together, nor that two men had had true born children had faltered the majority of them. They truly were simple people and as long as they were fed and kept safe, which they were, they truly were happy and uncaring of everything else.

“Our…our Kings, are blessed by the Seven and we accept their marriage and their children.” He warbled out, looking to be completely petrified, his eyes darting rapidly and often to the sleeping pile of dragons. “We…we accept them and know that they are truly blessed by the Seven!”

The smallfolk cheered again and after a few more warbling words and more holy oil smeared by fat fingers over their foreheads and cheeks, the ceremony was over and Rhaegar sneered at the High Septon and he kept a hold of Harry’s hand, going to greet the smallfolk, who were actually taking all of this really well, much better than they had feared that they would.
They had nulled their marriages to Ashara and the upset Elia, who had tried to claim that Rhaegar had consummated their wedding night, to which Harry had easily disproved as he had been the one to spend her wedding night with Rhaegar and Elia had spent the night with Ashara, who had confirmed that Elia had been there all night with her.
Elia was on her way back to Dorne, her plan to keep Rhaegar by trying to convince the people that she had been wronged, that the twin Princesses were her own babes by Rhaegar and that he was trying to take them from her, was foiled and the relationship between the crown and the Martell’s was now very tenuous and suspicious.

“Ma!” A three and a half year old Rhaegon called out, from where he was stood holding Ser Arthur’s left hand. His right was hovering near Dawn, always on alert for dangers.

Harry went to his son and picked him up, kissing his cheek and Rhaegar came to touch his black hair.

“Da!” Helaena called out, raising her arms. He picked her up and swung her into his one arm as Haeraenya, not wanting to be left out, charged at him with her own arms up and he had to do the same with their older daughter.

Ashara was holding Baelon on her one hip and she had Daenerys tucked into her neck. Viserys was smiling at them, happy to be home and with his beloved older brothers. He was slowly coming to terms with their parents’ deaths, but he had moments where he remained quiet and sad. It was, however, getting much easier to break him from such moods than it had been when their Mother’s death had been fresh in his mind.

“Come, let us go back to our home.” Rhaegar said.

Harry nodded. “Balerion! Round up your brothers. Up, up!” Harry commanded and Balerion blinked open a red eye at Harry’s voice. “To me.” He said in High Valyrian.

The five of them were seven turns old now and they were getting big and boisterous, but Harry was very stubborn and Rhaegar’s force of character was stronger. Together they could keep control of the rapidly growing dragons.
Of course meeting Viserion and learning that he was to be his own personal dragon, Viserys had brightened up considerably. He and Viserion had bonded, mostly because Viserys wouldn’t leave Viserion alone and had recently taken to riding the white and gold dragon like a horse. Harry had worried at first, but Viserion was very patient and calm with Viserys and he allowed such behaviours and in fact he started to act like Viserys, following him around and joining in his games as best as he could. They had bonded strongly.
Harry still wouldn’t allow his children, or Viserys for that matter, to be alone with the dragons. It just wasn’t sensible to leave them alone with a large, powerful and deadly animal that could kill them within a split second. No matter how patient and tolerant Viserion seemed at a glance, it only took one bad day, a push too far or maybe an accidental injury and Viserion’s patient disposition could turn in an instant. Harry wouldn’t take that risk with anyone, especially not his children or beloved brother and sister, who was more like a daughter to him as he fed her from his own body along with her nephew, Baelon, who was rapidly getting used to eating semi-solid foods at six turns old.
Harry was right about one thing though, Daenerys’ eyes had gone a beautiful shade of purple and she and Baelon looked more like brother and sister than Aunt and nephew, but Harry’s odd colouring had affected his three older children, leaving just little Baelon to take fully after his Father. For the moment at least.
Balerion got to his feet, bigger than all of the others and there were alarmed cries of shock from those still hanging around the Great Sept as Balerion growled and bit at his brothers, getting them moving. They still didn’t know for certain if Pyrexian and Rhaelys had changed their gender, they were still too young to reproduce, so for now, all of their dragons were considered male, it just made things easier.
They led the five dragons out into the open air and they all stretched out happily from their small sleeps, but Harry kept them moving, not allowing them to look around too much or to scamper off. Rhaegar was following behind them just to make sure that none of them vanished on the way back to Maegor’s Holdfast.
Harry happily went to the royal solar and he slumped down in a chair, removing his new crown. It was beautiful and it exactly matched Rhaegar’s in size, shape and design, it was just made slightly slimmer to fit his smaller head. They hadn’t wanted anyone to say that they were not co-Kings, that they were not jointly ruling together, because they were and neither of them were higher than the other. Harry loved and respected Rhaegar and his Husband loved and respected him in return.
Harry cuddled Helaena, his most affectionate child, gave her a kiss and sent her off to play. He was handed Baelon, but he put the boy on the floor, between his feet and he took a moment to breathe. Ashara was sitting with Daenerys and Harry was free to watch his four children. His boisterous boy, Rhaegon, his talkative Haeraenya, who was babbling odd words to herself as she turned over a wooden horse in her hands, his sweet Helaena, who seemed to be studying everyone in the room and his tiny, quiet Baelon, with his silver hair and indigo eyes, who was only just showing an increase in activity since his birth. Baelon who was wriggling across the floor as Xeraxys watched him with a curiously cocked head. Harry kept his eyes on the dragon and moved closer, just in case it was needed. It wasn’t, Xeraxys lost interest in the wriggling Baelon and instead turned his attention back to Rhaelys and the two of them nipped and head butted at the other in a sort of game.
Harry stood and went to Baelon regardless and hefted him up, kissing his neck to hear his youngest son giggle wetly through a mouth that was only just growing in his first tooth.

“I love you, sweetness.” Harry sighed, cradling his youngest son close.

“I love you, Husband.” Rhaegar said, wrapping strong, muscled arms around Harry’s waist and kissing the back of his neck.

Harry chuckled and he tipped his head back, they didn’t have to fear getting caught any more, they didn’t have to guard their tongues, they could just be themselves, they could show and announce their love to one another as loudly as they cared to without any fears now. Everyone already knew and though there were those who were disgusted by the idea of them being married together, of them having children together, neither of them cared. No one could do anything to them now, they were entirely secure.

“I love you so much, Rhaegar.” Harry said passionately and Rhaegar smiled smugly at him, before he dipped his head and stole a kiss.

“Your Grace, Haradarian.” Ser Arthur addressed him, the Kingsguard had taken to using their names after their title to avoid confusion. “Lord Mace and Lady Alerie Tyrell request your company. They have their four children with them and the hostage, Renly Baratheon.”

“Kindly see them in, Ser.” Harry said and a few moments later he grinned as two boys immediately rushed in and embraced his legs. “Willas, Garlan.” He greeted, getting to his one knee and holding them both, placing a kiss to each of their heads.

“Your Grace.” Lord Mace addressed him with a respectful bow, he was holding the hand of a red eyed Renly.

Harry laughed. “Please, Mace. We’re friends. In the comfort of our own privacy, Harry is fine.”

He looked at the small, and very shy it seemed, curly head of brown hair hiding behind his Mother’s skirts.

“This must be Loras.” He smiled.

“He is our shy boy.” Mace nodded.

“And…who is this?” He asked, looking at the babe in Alerie’s arms. “She looks to be newly born, please tell me that you didn’t travel out here so soon after birthing.”

“This is our Margaery, she is almost a turn old, your Grace. I felt well enough to travel. We couldn’t very well miss your coronation.” Alerie told him.

Harry smiled widely. “She is almost of an age with Daenerys, she’s two turns old now.” Harry said, looking to Ashara, who was speaking softly to his baby sister. “Not to mention our new babe, Baelon. He’s six turns old.”

“Rhaegon is three years now?” Mace asked.

Harry nodded. “Yes, Rhaegon is three and Haeraenya and Helaena are two on the next turn, just after Rhaegar turns five-and-twenty.”

“They are beautiful girls.” Mace complimented.

Harry smiled as he realised what Mace was angling at. He wasn’t upset, just the opposite, he was very pleased.

“Willas is nine now, isn’t he?” Harry asked.

“Yes, your…Harry.” Mace nodded.

“Garlan is seven?”

“He is.”

“And if I remember rightly, little Loras is two.”

He smiled at the peek of brown eyes from behind Alerie’s dress and he chuckled lightly. “I suppose that nine and two is not such a large gap, what do you think, my love?”

Rhaegar cottoned on easily and he didn’t seem as pleased. “I’m not so sure, we married for love, Harry. Can we push forced marriage onto our children when we went to such lengths to avoid it ourselves?”

Harry bit his lip. “I suppose it would not be a bad thing to betroth them when they are closer to being of age, you would not be offended if they did not wish to be married? Regardless of a marriage between our families, I cannot thank you enough for your support, and the support of Highgarden and the Reach. We are always going to be friends, Mace.”

“I would not be offended, your Grace. I just think it would neaten things up if my heir were married to your daughter.”

Harry nodded. “I more than understand. You never know, Helaena might turn around and like Willas more than Haeraenya, or perhaps Garlan or Loras will take a fancy to them, or even to Daenerys. If we force them together, we’ll never know their true feelings and I cannot have one of my daughters hating me or resenting that I have forced her into a marriage when I myself married my own brother for love.”

Mace nodded in understanding and he seemed to be appeased.

“Please have a seat. I’ll call for refreshments.”

The Tyrells sat down and Loras was only allowed to stay for a few minutes in his Mother’s skirt before Rhaegon caught sight of him and literally, physically dragged him away from his Mother to play. Rhaegon truly was a boisterous boy, he was strong too, both in body and in will. He would make a wonderful King when he was older.
A servant came back with wine and honey cakes and Harry settled next to Rhaegar, who had Baelon in his lap. Baelon wriggled all over Rhaegar, before making it onto Harry’s lap and then over to Mace and Alerie.

“May I?” Harry asked as he held his arms out.

Alerie smiled and moved to pass him the baby Margaery. Soft brown eyes looked up at him from under soft tufts of brown hair and Harry chuckled.

“There’s you saying about my daughters, look at your own, Mace. You’ll have absolutely no problems finding a Husband for this sweet little one.”

Viserys hurried into the room and he looked at the two boys who were near his own age, then to his two older brothers, then to Renly Baratheon, who was also of an age with him.

“It’s alright, Viserys.” Rhaegar told him.

Harry nodded. “It’s about time that you interacted with some boys your own age. Go and play nicely with Willas and Garlan. Renly, you go and play too.” Harry directed at the lost looking boy, who didn’t really understand what was happening. He knew that both of his brothers were dead and that his home was no longer his home any more, but he didn’t really seem to understand why that was, but the Tyrells were taking good care of him, as Harry had instructed.

“The dragons, where are they?” Alerie asked nervously.

“They are completely under our command.” Harry assured her gently, understanding her concern as she had her children in the room. “They’re all out in the garden, enjoying the surprisingly warm sun.”

“Spring is on its way back. Our winter blooms are struggling and some of the spring blooms are trying to flower early.” Alerie said, calmed somewhat by Harry’s reassurance about the absent dragons.

Harry nodded himself. “It feels like spring, hopefully it won’t be a false spring again. I am more than ready for some much warmer weather. This winter has lasted for too long already.”

“Is it because the dragons are back?” Mace asked, trying to see the dragons through the door to the garden.

“It could be.” Rhaegar answered. “But all we have is speculation.”

“We do know that summers lasted for much longer when the dragons were living on this continent.” Harry added. “We might yet see a ten year long summer like we used to when the dragons were last here.”

“Such a thing would be wonderful for the flowers of Highgarden.” Alerie sighed. “It blooms through all seasons, but summer is truly something special.”

Harry smiled as he cradled the newly born Margaery. His friendship with the Tyrells was only growing stronger, he and Rhaegar had been crowned as Kings, even if it had taken a bit of force and some threats, things were finally looking to be peaceful for them.
The Targaryen’s were secured on the throne again, with the dragons no one would dare rise against them again and their family was growing larger. They had already gotten people to start rebuilding Summerhall, Storm’s End was theirs, they had land and riches for their children when they were older. They would let their children marry for love, within reason of course, and to that end, they would refuse to betroth them outside of the loose arrangement they had with the Tyrells, who were understanding and lifelong friends of theirs.
He would have to try again with the Martell’s too, he owed it to his good friend Lewyn. Prince Doran Martell had a nine year old daughter, Arianne, perhaps Viserys would like her. He would have to bring it up in a few years’ time. After the anger they felt at Elia’s betrayal settled down first.
Viserys laughed joyously and Harry smiled automatically. It was nice to hear Viserys laughing. It was brilliant to see him playing with other boys of his own age as they played with some wooden swords…ones that weren’t lined with lead, ones that were just toys. They were playing at being knights.
Rhaegon, Haeraenya and Helaena were having just as much fun with little Loras, playing with little dolls, wooden animals and the elaborate carriage that he and Rhaegar had had made for Helaena, complete with fabric curtains and plush little seats. It could be attached to a wooden horse and a little doll could sit in the carriage.
Baelon wiggled back over Harry’s lap to Rhaegar and his Husband kissed their son and put him on the floor. Baelon screeched and he was off, plodding his way across the floor on hands and knees.

“Bae, no!” Haeraenya chastised her brother, rushing over and plucking her doll from the floor before Baelon could touch it.

“Haeraenya, let your brother play with the doll.” Rhaegar chastised.

“He dribble on it, Da!” Haeraenya cried at the injustice of being chastened.

Harry passed baby Margaery back to Alerie and he stood, going to a chest in the corner of the solar and digging through it. He found another doll wrapped in a square of fabric and he hunched down, handing this doll to Baelon, who did indeed put it straight into his mouth and gnaw on it.
He checked on little Daenerys, who was fast asleep, before he kissed Ashara’s cheek. He went and sat next to Rhaegar and he kissed him too, on the mouth. He chuckled as Rhaegar kissed down his neck as they wrapped up in one another’s arms.

“Do you two never stop?” Lord Jon Connington asked as he came into the room to see them wrapped up in a loving embrace, Rhaegar looking proudly at the new bruise that he had suckled onto Harry’s shoulder, lavishing it with attention from his tongue.

Jon had never fully approved of their relationship, nor their marriage, and though he was fine with the both of them on their own, if they were being affectionate with one another, he always became particularly venomous, to Harry more so than to Rhaegar. It always made Harry’s jealously flare up, he had never forgotten the crushed look in Jon’s eyes as they’d announced their marriage intentions and by now he knew, he knew with certainty, that Jon truly loved his brother, as he did. Rhaegar was completely oblivious to such feelings from his childhood friend and Harry intended to keep it that way, mostly out of spite as he knew that his brother-husband would never leave him for another person, man or woman. They had far too much together and they were truly in love, nothing would come of him telling Rhaegar that Jon loved him as more than a dear friend, but he knew that on some level it hurt Jon to know that Rhaegar didn’t notice the love that he held for him, that Rhaegar had never noticed the looks, the gestures or the hints that Jon had tried to give to him over the years, and that appeased Harry’s need to be spiteful to Jon for his feelings towards his Husband. Harry was content with that being Jon’s punishment for loving his brother-husband as he did.

“Four and a half years of marriage and I love him more today than I ever have before, and tomorrow, I will love him more than I do today.” Rhaegar smiled, holding Harry close and Harry grinned smugly, knowing that Rhaegar was unknowingly, unintentionally, stabbing Jon’s heart with his words and actions. “What needs our attention this time, Jon? There had better not be another gold cloak dispute over how long patrols are, I swear on the Seven I will double the length of their bloody patrols if they carry on!”

“No. Another farmer has claimed that he saw your dragons steal his cows with his own eyes.” Jon snorted.

“While all five of them were in the Great Sept this afternoon?” Rhaegar scoffed.

“He claims that it happened before your coronation. Early this morning.”

“Could that have happened?” Alerie asked worriedly.

“Not at all, Lady Alerie.” Harry said soothingly. “Not one of them are strong enough yet to pick up a chicken, let alone a pig, a sheep or a cow. They are flying much better now that they’re seven turns, but they are not big enough, nor strong enough, to fly with anything else. They dip down in the air and struggle to fly straight when we give them a small bag of straw to carry during their training!”

“They’re stronger on the floor at the moment.” Rhaegar added with a nod. “Viserion can carry Viserys on his back, but he definitely could not fly with him.”

“Is Viserion the black dragon? He’s so big.”

“No, that is our Balerion reborn. Viserion is the cream and gold. He matches Viserys’ colouring, which is why we passed him over to our brother.” Harry explained. “Balerion is a deal bigger than the other four, but he’s still the same age and he’s still learning, just as they are.”

“What shall I say to the farmer?” Lord Jon asked.

“Nothing, I’ll come with you.” Harry sighed.

He stood and then bent over to kiss Rhaegar, ignoring the slight, thinly veiled glare that he got from Jon for the display of affection and he grabbed his brand new crown and left the solar. As soon as he left the room, Prince Lewyn fell in step behind him as Harry jammed the silk lined crown onto his head, making sure that it was perfectly placed.
He made his way out of Maegor’s Holdfast, over the serpentine steps and to the Great Hall. The nervous looking farmer was almost sick as he saw Harry approaching the Iron Throne.
Harry sat carefully on the very uncomfortable Iron Throne and he schooled his expression as he looked down at the farmer.

“I have been told that you have a grievance against the crown?” He said sternly.

“I…yes. Yes, your Grace.” The farmer stuttered. “See, I have…had thirty-six cows. There are only thirty-three now, your Grace.”

“Banditry is never tolerated, if there is another outlaw group running amok, I will of course send out knights to eliminate them. Thank you for your information on such a group.” Harry said. “But my small council could have dealt with this matter without me being present.”

Harry nodded to the several people sat on stools before the dais which sat the Iron Throne. Lord Jon Connington was his and Rhaegar’s Hand, Ser Barristan sat the small council as the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, as did the Grand Maester.

“He claims that he saw a dragon steal his cows.” Grand Maester Gormon told him.

“Is this true?” Harry asked as the crowd of witnesses and supplicants tittered.

“Yes, Ser, your Grace.” The farmer stuttered.

“You don’t seem overly confident of that statement. Did you see the dragon or not?”

“I did, yes!” The farmer insisted more firmly.

“What colour was it?” Harry asked simply.

“What?”

Harry cocked an eyebrow. “Are you stalling for time?” He clucked his tongue disapprovingly. “I asked you what colour was the dragon that you claim to have seen stealing your cows.”

“Green, your Grace.” The farmer said, before changing his mind when Harry showed no reaction. “No, it was black!”

“Well, which was it?” Harry asked. “You claim that you saw it taking off with your cows, what colour was it?”

“Black.” The farmer said firmly.

“What size was the dragon?” Harry asked next.

“What size was it?” The farmer asked back.

Harry narrowed his eyes. “When I ask you a question, I expect you to answer it, not to echo my words. Now what size was the dragon? Was it the size of a dog? The size of a sheep? The size of an oxen? Tell me.”

“It was much, much bigger, your Grace!” The farmer insisted. “The size of a ship at least.”

“It was the size of a ship and it carried off three of your cows with one pass?”

“Yes, your Grace. It did, I saw it.”

Harry chuckled. “Prince Lewyn, go and get my black dragon for me.”

Prince Lewyn bowed to him and then left the Great Hall. The Kingsguard had all been desensitised to the five dragons and though Balerion kept his fondness for Ser Arthur, the dragons still reacted favourably to all of the Kingsguard.

“There is still time to admit that you didn’t see what, or rather who, took your three missing cows.” He said mildly as he waited patiently, sitting still and straight-backed on the Iron Throne, forcing himself not to fidget or move.

“I know what I saw, your Grace! Those cows are my livelihood! Losing just one of them will beggar my family, to lose three of them at once, I…”

“Which is why when three of your cows went missing, you fabricated this story to try and claim damages from the crown. You and half the farmers in the Seven Kingdoms who are looking to try and get a bit of extra coin. One claimed that it was a yellow dragon who had carried off half his herd of sheep, another that the dragon, of an undisclosed colour, had mauled several of his pigs for sadistic fun. But you see, I know that those dragons haven’t been anywhere as they stay with either myself or with King Rhaegar at all times. I would think that we’d notice one of them going missing for several hours and coming back with more meat than the five of them could eat in a week.” Harry said sternly. “The crown cannot give you coin for thieving bandits, but if it was directly our fault, we would of course be responsible to pay for the damages. Which is why you’ve claimed to have seen a black dragon the size of a ship picking up your three missing cows and flying off with them when in reality, I would suspect that outlaws or bandits have stolen three of your cows in the night and you’ve woken up to find them missing and decided to blame it on our dragons and claim for damages instead of accepting the truth of the matter.”

“I know what I saw.” The farmer insisted stubbornly.

Harry shook his head and looked to his small council. Particularly at his Master of Coin. “You know what to do.” He said sadly.

The man nodded and looked at the farmer. “The penalty for claiming false damages is a fine of fifty silver stags to be payable immediately to the crown.”

“Failure to pay the fine will result in the loss of a hand.” The newly promoted Master of Laws, Lord Ardwell Celtigar, added.

The farmer went grey at hearing that news, but Harry had given him ample opportunity to come clean and to say the truth. Now it was too late as Prince Lewyn came back into the Great Hall, a fearsome looking Balerion behind him.

“Ah. Now, as you can see, this is the only black dragon that King Rhaegar and I have and he is the size of a sheep, not a ship. He couldn’t carry off one cow, let alone three.” Harry said as Balerion caught sight of him and came to lay his head in his lap, getting a good scratch for it, which made the dragon rumble with pleasure.

“Maybe the dragon was…was green.” The farmer tried.

“Our green dragon is smaller than this one.” Harry cut down immediately. “You have lied about what happened to your cows and you have tried to falsely claim that it was my fault, mine and my Husband Rhaegar’s, that your three cows have gone missing. We do not appreciate being played for fools. Gentlemen, you know what to do.” He directed at his small council.

Harry stood and with a touch to Balerion’s head, he got the black and red dragon following him and with Prince Lewyn escorting him, he made his way back to Maegor’s Holdfast and to the royal solar. He once again took the crown off and put it next to Rhaegar’s and he slumped down next to his Husband again.

“That was an ordeal.” Harry sighed. “A straight up fine or the loss of a hand.”

Rhaegar smoothed his hair back and kissed him gently. “We can’t let them off of the law, Harry.”

Harry nodded. “I know. He tried to claim that Balerion was the culprit and said that he was the size of a ship!” Harry laughed. “He tried to claim that he carried off three cows at once.”

Rhaegar shook his head. “He wasn’t the first, he won’t be the last, especially when they do get bigger. We need to exercise more control over them.”

Harry nodded his agreement. “Training though, not control. They don’t need to be controlled. They need training. They will not act unless upon our command, they will not use their fire, they will not leave without permission.”

“Can that be done?” Lord Mace asked as he watched Prince Lewyn escort Balerion back out into the garden.

Harry nodded. “They’re entirely capable of being trained and they are incredibly intelligent. When they’re older, we hope to be able to trust them to go off flying on their own or as a group, without us to supervise them and we hope that we can trust that nothing will happen. They’ll be very well fed, so there won’t be a need for them to kill for food and we hope to train them not to kill for pleasure or for the sake of it. We will not be using them as execution devices, though they are going to be trained as war mounts once their basic training is completed and we can trust them.”

Harry pulled his baby Baelon back onto his lap and he sighed, burying his nose into his son’s silver hair. He breathed in his delicate scent happily and rocked his little babe to sleep. It was coming up to midday and his babes always napped near midday.

“Will you have more?” Alerie asked a little hesitantly. It was still a strange concept to understand, but Harry had to hand it to his friends, they were adjusting to the situation really well.

“I’m sure that we will.” Harry said with a smile. “I haven’t had enough just yet.”

Rhaegar chuckled and wrapped him back up in his arms.

“It doesn’t help that Rhaegar won’t leave me be.” He added.

“It’s your fault for being so beautiful.” Rhaegar told him.

“No, you just have absolutely no self-control.” Harry corrected.

“Only when it comes to you.”

Harry sighed and shook his head, putting a sleeping Baelon up on his shoulder.

“How has Renly been?” He asked quietly so that the happily playing boy wouldn’t hear him.

“He’s not adjusting very well.” Mace said quickly, jumping at the change of topic. “He cries almost every day. This is the first time I’ve seen him happy since…since everything.”

“It was never going to happen overnight.” Ashara said softly, also looking at the giggling Renly. “He’s only a boy and everything he once knew has changed or gone. He’s lost every member of his family. He just needs some time to adjust and a bit of care and he’ll be fine.”

“I hope he doesn’t grow up rebellious.” Harry sighed.

“I’m sure that he won’t. He’s young enough and baby Robb younger still.” Rhaegar soothed.

“Where is the Stark boy?” Mace asked interestedly.

“He’s still here as our guest. We get a raven from Winterfell every few weeks asking after him and pleading for him back.”

“Ah, the Lady Catelyn?”

Harry nodded. “Yes, I can fully understand that she wants her babe back. I would be the same in her shoes too, but with Benjen Stark as the Warden of the North still, we just can’t trust them.”

“They’ll fill baby Robb’s head with ideas of revenge and rebellion and when he’s a man grown, we’ll have another war on our hands. We’ll send him back when he’s older.” Rhaegar said decisively.

Harry nodded his agreement. “We’ll raise him alongside our babes and send him back to the North when he’s fully grown, filled with the care and love of our upbringing and the camaraderie of being an almost sibling of our own babes.”

“A wise decision.” Mace nodded. “Will the same happen with Renly?”

Harry shook his head. “No. He will never be the Lord of Storm’s End. As the leader of the rebel army against us, Robert Baratheon has ruined any chance of that. If he shows promise and obedience when he’s fully grown, he will be granted his own lands and home, but the Baratheons will never again be one of the Great Houses.”

“We can’t be seen to be rewarding the instigators of rebellion.” Rhaegar sighed. “Giving Stark back to the North when he’s fully grown is about the limit. If we gave Renly back Storm’s End, after his brother almost ruined our family and tried to take the Iron Throne from us, after he almost killed me and did kill two members of the Kingsguard, we could almost certainly be facing another uprising. We’d be seen as weak and soft and others would seek to take advantage of that.”

“Surely no one will bother you now that you have dragons?” Alerie asked.

Harry shook his head. “Some would rebel against us because of the dragons, so we don’t want to give them any real reason to do so. I lived in constant stress for almost a year, I was pregnant with Baelon through the rebellion and I had to fight against Lannister’s men while I was six turns pregnant with him. I would much rather not go through that again if it can be at all helped.”

“Ma, we hungry.” Rhaegon ran up to him to tell him.

“I suppose it is close enough to the middle of the day, come on then, to the table.”

“Will you stay and eat with us?” Rhaegar asked the Tyrell’s cordially.

“We would be honoured to.” Mace answered with an incline of his head.

Harry breathed deeply and he put Baelon down on the soft seat, covering him, Margaery and Daenerys over with the blanket that his Mother had made. He had a lot more respect for it now that she was dead and could never make another one.
The servants hurried in to serve them the midday meal, placing dishes around the table quickly and efficiently. Harry was the one to serve his Rhaegon and twin girls, including the little two year old Loras, but Viserys, Willas, Garlan and Renly all served themselves. He made sure that all the large selections of food were cut up for the four children and that they could be eaten without a risk of choking and he made sure his children were sat properly so that they couldn’t fall, before he sat down himself and ate his own meal.
The rebellion of the would be usurper had taken a lot from him, but not as much as it had taken from the six year old Renly, but at least he was around boys his own age with Viserys, Willas and Garlan willing to play with him. When he was at High Garden he would be raised with love, and he would have the same, almost siblings, that Robb Stark would have in Willas, Garlan, Loras and Margaery.
The rebellion had been a farce from the start, the hot headed Robert Baratheon had needed the smallest amount of provocation as possible and he had used it as an excuse to attack them. Lyanna Stark trying to walk to Kings Landing, on her own, to throw herself at Rhaegar was the excuse that Robert Baratheon had been waiting for and he had overreacted so appallingly that some people were now calling the war the Fool’s Rebellion.
Robert had risked not only his own life, but the lives of his friends and family also. He had been executed, but so to had his brother Stannis and all of this rebel friends, Eddard Stark and Hoster Tully. Jon Arryn had died in battle and it could be argued that so to had Tywin Lannister, even though he hadn’t seen any true battle.
Harry had kept his word and he’d taken huge delight in marrying Cersei Lannister to the new Lord of the Vale, Ser Amory Mallery, who had saved his life from his would-be murderer. So while he hadn’t married Cersei to someone of absolutely no renown, he had offered insult to the Lannisters, and huge honour to the Mallery’s, by marrying Lord Lothar Mallery’s younger son to the only surviving daughter of Tywin Lannister, who was being kept locked up in the ugly Eyrie, her new home, and a far cry from the warm, lavish comforts of Casterly Rock.
He’d appeased Tywin Lannister’s younger siblings by returning his, and Jaime’s, bodies to them to do with as they wished, but he had also sent a warning. If they even thought of any retribution, if they so much as breathed past the restrictions and sanctions now placed upon them, even if it was accidental, they would be declared traitors to the crown and the entire Lannister family would be executed.
Thus far they had been quiet and Oberyn Martell, who was acting as the castellan of Casterly Rock for him and Rhaegar, sent back weekly reports. He was very much enjoying his stay and his role as castellan of Casterly Rock. Harry knew, however, that it wouldn’t last very long, Oberyn was wont to get bored sooner rather than later and he would have to find another castellan to watch over the Westerlands for him, and to teach the little dwarf, Tyrion, who Harry had declared the Lord of Casterly Rock, snubbing Kevan Lannister’s claim to it by declaring that the law stated that all sons of the Lord came before his brothers. Oberyn was acting as a bodyguard to the little dwarf too, just in case some well-meaning person tried to kill him to put the Lordship on Kevan’s shoulders, something that Harry most certainly didn’t want.
He had already taken Kevan’s only child, his son Lancel, as a hostage. The babe, only two years old, was being fostered to the Frey’s, who had tried, as he’d known that they would, to convince him and Rhaegar that they’d been fighting for them all along and had closed the Twins to the Northernmen trying to flee back up to the Neck.
Harry didn’t believe him and true to his word, he had not given the Frey’s any sort of honour or bounty. Lord Walter Frey had asked for Riverrun as a boon for his involvement, but Harry had immediately denied them that prestigious honour, giving Riverrun instead to his false wife, Ashara, to enjoy with the husband that she would choose for herself. Instead the Frey’s got the expense of looking after a two year old boy as a hostage of the crown and they got to fawn over him about the ‘honour’ of being chosen for such a task instead.
At least Harry knew that the boy would be safe there, as Tywin and Kevan’s sister, Genna, had been married to Emmon Frey, Lord Walter’s second son. So at least Harry knew that little Lancel Lannister wouldn’t be drowned in either fork of the Trident that passed by the Twins.
He sighed and smiled as he looked around the table at his family and close friends. He might have lived for a year in stress and fear, but he and his family had come out relatively unscathed. They might have lost Ser Gerold and Ser Jonothor, they’d lost their Father, and their Mother to childbed, but Rhaegar’s bruised torso had healed, Harry’s face and shoulder had healed and he’d birth Baelon in front of the remaining Kingsguard. Their children were all alive and well and growing fast and strong, Ashara and Elia had come out of the war untouched and they had a new baby sister too.
With the five dragons growing faster and stronger than their babes, their line was secured. No one wanted to take on a dragon, much less five of them, though many wanted to be rid of them. There had always been the rumour that the Maesters of the Citadel had led to the downfall of the dragons the first time around, so when the raven from the Citadel had turned up, shortly after the news that the dragons were back in Westeros once more, asking formally for the Maesters to come and study them, he and Rhaegar had unanimously, and passionately, said no together. They hadn’t even needed to deliberate or think on the matter, it had been a straight out no. They had had Grand Maester Gormon reply to his brothers at the Citadel with their answer, declining to allow them near their dragons. They were turning away people from all over Westeros, and even a few from Essos too, who were asking to see their dragons. They only allowed friends, and those they trusted implicitly, anywhere near them. Or for public services such as their coronation and down in the Great Hall earlier, where it was advantageous to show them off a little to prove that they were actually alive and real, lest people started to think that they had lied about having dragons in the first place.

“You’re very deep in thought.” Rhaegar whispered to him, taking his hand and stilling it from where it had been winding continuously around his Maester’s chain.

Harry smiled automatically at the sound of Rhaegar’s voice and he turned to look at his silver haired rider.

“I’m just reflecting on all that we’ve done, wondering if we’ve done enough, if I’ve forgotten or overlooked something that could prove dangerous to us later down the road.”

“Harry, I have known you for your entire life.” Rhaegar told him. “So I can tell you, with certainty, that you’re overthinking things. You are looking for problems that aren’t there. Just stop and give yourself a rest. You have done more than enough for our family and what will come in the future will come, whether you sit here and think about it endlessly for the next several years until something actually does happen or not, it will likely still happen.”

“But if I think of it beforehand I can prepare more for…”

“No.” Rhaegar interrupted. “You can strategise on the edge of a blade, Haradarian. You can take in information and have a plan ready in an hour. You don’t need to plan ahead, you don’t need to endlessly torture yourself in this way with scenarios that may not ever come to pass. Let yourself breathe, let yourself relax, we’ve won, Harry and it’s over now. Enjoy that before you think ahead to the next rebellion or revolt because when it comes, if it ever does, I am certain that you’ll be able to plan and strategise just as quickly as you did when you received information during the war and were able to turn around with a new strategy that very same day.”

Harry breathed out and he smiled. He nodded in agreement to leave the remnants of the rebellion alone. Rhaegar was right, he had covered all the potential enemies they had made and he had appeased as many people as he could. Cersei Lannister was married to his loyal man in the Vale, Kevan Lannister’s son Lancel was held as a hostage with the Frey’s, Renly Baratheon was a hostage at Highgarden and Robb Stark was a hostage in their own home. There was nothing left to cover, nothing left to do. He needed to leave the rebellion alone now, it would never fully die down if he didn’t leave it alone and let it remain in the past.
He turned and rested himself on his Husband’s strong, dependable shoulders.

“Okay, I’ll let it go. I’m sure that I’ve covered everything, and everyone, that I need to. I just don’t ever want anything like this happening again. Not to us and especially not to our children. I won’t be away from them in such a way or for such a time ever again.”

“No.” Rhaegar agreed with him, looking to their Rhaegon, Haeraenya and sweet Helaena eating their midday meals. “We will never allow this to happen to our babes. We will raise them with the means to look after themselves when we’re gone, but that will not be for many, many years to come. I’m not done giving you babes yet.” He added into his ear with a whisper.

Harry chuckled and he couldn’t help but smile. He sat resting against Rhaegar, keeping an ear out for Baelon or Daenerys while watching Rhaegon, Haeraenya and Helaena eat their midday meal. Everything was once again as it should be, there was little else that needed to be done, but they would eventually have to replace the fallen members of the Kingsguard, but not yet. He had meant it when he’d said that his trust had been shaken by Jaime Lannister’s betrayal. He would have to make careful selections after consulting heavily with Rhaegar and they would raise them up slowly and carefully, one by one. It would be a while before their Kingsguard was back to full strength, but Harry was alright with that when the alternative was to raise three new members together, too quickly and without the proper deliberation that it needed, and then regretting it later down the road if they too turned out to be traitors and turncloaks like Jaime Lannister.
But at this moment in time, he was very happy and he felt safe and secure with those around him. Things would inevitably change because of the rebellion, there was no possible way that it couldn’t change when half of the Great houses of the realm had been changed or wiped out entirely. There were no Baratheons of Storm’s End anymore, no Arryn’s of the Vale and no Tully’s of Riverrun. The Lannisters of Casterly Rock were under a castellan and the Starks were being held in check with a hostage. The only lands of the realm that hadn’t changed were the Tyrells of the Reach, the Martells of Dorne and themselves, the Targaryens of the Crownlands. It could be argued too that the Iron Islands hadn’t been changed as they were still under the control of the Greyjoy family, but as they had taken no part of the rebellion, it could be said that they were of no consequence. They had tried to raid the realm as they had been warring, but ultimately they had failed and Lord Quellon Greyjoy had been killed at the Mander, to be succeeded by his eldest son, Balon, when Harry had sent orders to the Shield Islands to protect the coast and they had sent out longboats that had struck back at the Ironborn and had defeated them.
He blew out all of his breath and he let it go, pushing it from his mind. He stood up immediately at Daenerys’ first cry and he was holding her on the second, shushing her gently and twirling the curly silver hair through his fingers gently.
He sat down and lifted his tunic, letting her latch onto him, drinking Baelon’s milk, but he didn’t mind being his sister’s wet nurse. It had been a bit uncomfortable at first, a little odd, but as he had gotten over feeding in public, so too had he come to terms with feeding his own sister.

“Is she well?” Rhaegar asked as he was just finishing up his own meal.

Harry nodded as he looked up from her sweet, perfect face. “She’s alright, she was just hungry.” He smiled. “We’re going to be just fine.”

“Of course we are. All of us.” Rhaegar agreed.

Harry couldn’t stop the grin blossoming over his face. “Tonight, I think we should try for another baby.”

Rhaegar almost choked on his last bite of chicken and he laughed hard. The children all stopped to look at him as if he were the strangest creature that they’d ever seen.

“Don’t you think four babes and two young siblings is enough for us to handle for now?” Rhaegar asked once he’d calmed down and swallowed the chicken with the help of a mouthful of wine. “Not to mention the five dragons.”

“Of course not.” Harry laughed. “Not nearly enough, my love. You need to do better than two sons and two daughters if you want to keep me happy.”

Harry winked at his Husband and Rhaegar smiled back at him. Harry knew then that everything truly would be fine. Rhaegar was right, the rebellion was over and things were settling. It might take a few more years still for the realm to heal over the scars that the rebellion had left behind, but they would truly, truly be fine. Harry smiled and he settled back and cradled Daenerys softly.
Baelon started wailing and Harry rolled his eyes, picking up his six turn old son and latched him onto his other breast, opposite his aunt. Perhaps it would be better if he and Rhaegar had another egg this time and then a baby afterwards. He chuckled to himself softly.
No, he was fine, his family were fine and everything was going to end up just fine. He just had to relax himself a little and he had to learn to put his trust back into those around him, but most of all, he needed to learn to trust in himself more. Rhaegar was right about one thing, he could plan and strategise on the edge of a blade, if anything went wrong, he could formulate a plan to counteract it quickly enough. He just needed to trust in himself, trust in his abilities to protect those he loved.
He let go of all of his stress and his fears and he sighed before smiling down at the boy and girl in his arms, feeding from his body. Everything was going to be utterly perfect, he would ensure it with his very life if it came down to it. Nothing would be allowed to harm his children, his little brother or baby sister. They needed to think carefully about the Kingsguard now, about the city gold cloaks and the small council too. It was time for a change and after the Mad King, any change that he and Rhaegar implemented could only be a good thing from here on in. They would make things right, they would make things stable and they were going to settle in for the long run, for he knew it in his heart, they would be co-kings for a very long time, they were going to rule, in relative peace and happiness, for many, many years to come.

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A/N: And this is the last chapter of this story. We have just the epilogue left now, but that takes place in the year 306AC, so we have a rather large jump in the next chapter of roughly twenty-two years.
It’s not quiet finished yet, in fact it’s not even close, so I’m going to have to pull my finger out and get that finished and done so that I can lay this fic to rest.
This chapter is a week late, because the word count kept growing and then the read through just took forever because of that, but it is now done and posted! I hope that you’ve all enjoyed it and now the rebellion is over! The epilogue will be tying up loose ends and of course we see the adorable Rhaegon as a strong, twenty-five year old man! He’s older in the next chapter than Rhaegar was in this one! But I will tie everything off, and hope that I don’t miss anything!
But it has been an utter pleasure to write this fic and I’d like to thank all of my fans for putting up with me while I wrote it, and ignored all of my other fics in the process, for always supporting me in whatever I do, even if it is working on unpublished fics for several months at a time. Thank you!
Anyway, I hope that you’ve enjoyed this fic, come and join me on Facebook if you haven’t already, I’m on there under the penname Star Mass, the link to it is on my profile page. But until the epilogue, lovelies!

StarLight Massacre. X
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The Dragons' Rebirth