A Comment on Age

All characters in this story are 18 years or older, despite their ages in the original fiction.

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Whoever had first thought up of boats deserved worse than the gallows, Margaery thought to herself. Not for the first time had she had another fit of queasiness and near retching. Thankfully, no-one could see their Queen in such a state, isolated in her own quarters as she was. Travelling by sea was something she’d never have considered, had the need not been so dire. That bitch now meant to try and take everything away from her, everything she had worked for. It was a race against time, a race to win the heart of one man.

There are almost as many ‘Queens’ as there are Kingdoms now’. It was a bitter thought. After everything she had done, from surviving Joffrey, to seducing Tommen to bringing down Cersei, everything had led to her finally taking the Iron Throne. Now that she had it, the chair seemed more of an ornate curiosity than a throne. It’s because I’m a woman. No woman, not even  I can’t hold all Seven Kingdoms together by myself.

That was one of the things she had had time to realize on her painful journey to Storm’s End. The people needed a King, it had always been so. The simple truth of it all was that the King was the man with the biggest cock in all Seven Kingdoms, proverbially, of course. That brought her to Aegon Bloody Targaryen.

Seven only knew where he had been all this time but it hardly mattered. Aegon was the firstborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen. Say what you will about the Mad King, but his Prince had always been loved. His firstborn was no different. This ‘Aegon Targaryen’ had a direct claim on the throne, a claim that went back hundreds of years. His claim was stronger than Joffrey’s or Tommen’s had ever been. It was stronger than hers, stronger than any of the other Queens.

Couple that with the nonstop wars that had plagued the land for the last few years and you had a recipe for disaster. The common folk were fed up with the Great Houses all battling for the throne endlessly. Some still remembered the time of the Targaryens, when they ruled by blood and fire. A harsh rule, but a peaceful one. Compared to the wanton destruction lain from The North to the Riverlands, from The Reach to King’s Landing, that didn’t seem so bad at all. It was said that everyday hundreds of men, from every class and occupation, showed up to swear allegiance to the newfound Prince.

It was a disaster but not an unsalvageable one. From every report she’d read, this new Prince didn’t bring any Princesses along with him. That meant there was a chance, a chance to snatch him away and have him put her back on the throne, more firmly than ever before. So what if she’d already been the wife to two kings? People could hardly fault her a third. And if nothing else, the one thing I’m good at is seducing Kings.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. “Come in.” She said with only the slightest annoyance. Everyone on the ship should know better than to interrupt her unless it was for something important.

The door opened several inches and Loras stuck his head in through the crack. He looked at her, then at the floor. He swallowed once before finally getting to the point. That saddened her. Ever since she’d taken her throne, Loras had been distant. The days where they could talk freely, as more than a Queen and her guard, seemed long over. Still, if that was a price she had to pay, she would pay it.

“We’ve sighted the port. The ship’s captain says we’ll be on dry land within the hour.”

Despite herself, Margaery grinned. 

“Have my escort ready. We leave the second we can.”

Just being able to finally put her feet on solid ground was more than enough to improve her mood. She was surrounded by the few guards that she’d brought along with her. It was a small escort, small enough to keep her safe, hopefully small enough to go unnoticed, at least for a little while. It was also small enough to hopefully not slight the Prince. She’d do well not to set him on edge or make herself look afraid the first time they met.

“Is there a problem Ser?”

She’d walked up to her brother, who was busy arguing with a ragged looking peasant. It hardly looked like an escort fit for a Queen.

“Your Queen demands an escort fit for her personage. To not have even a carriage is an insult. I’m sure your Lord will not be very pleased to find his subjects slighting his gue-”

Margaery sighed. “Might I ask why we aren’t being welcomed more…properly? I do believe Prince Aegon knew of our arrival in advance.” She cut in. Her brother was a fool. He’d never learned that you had to be gentle. You got with the carrot what you could never get with the sword.

The man’s eyes widened. Evidently, he hadn’t noticed her standing there. He bent his knees in a pained imitation of a bow.

“Ah Y-Your Grace pardon! T-there was meant to be an escort. Armed guards, carriages, the Prince’ Right Hand himself!” The fellow licked his lips, as if seeking permission to continue. Margaery nodded, and the man rambled on. “Just half an hour past a new visitor showed up. T-they said she was important or s-something. Lord Jon is dealing with her back in the village. She demanded he attend to her!”

The man sounded like he was offended on her behalf. For her part, she couldn’t help the sinking feeling in her chest. An important woman showing up at Storm’s End demanding people jump when she said jump had to be that bitch Myrcella. She was late, if only by a little. Still, it could have been worse. She could have showed up days or weeks earlier. A few minutes was unfortunate, but it could have been a lot worse.

Still, how did she manage that? King’s Landing had some of the fastest ships in the Seven Kingdoms. She’d personally chosen a vessel not exactly known for its comfiness, if only because it might get her here a day faster.

Loras looked even more indignant. He turned to Margaery and bowed his head. Whatever was now between them, he was still her Knight and she was his Queen.

“This new upstart needs to learn his manners. Surely there’s hardly a woman in the world who deserves to be seen before Your Grace herself. I’m sure we’ll remind him not to slight the Tyrell’s so casually.” He said, looking completely serious.

It was a shame. Loras was beautiful and strong, one of the most desirable men in all Seven Kingdoms. The only problem was that he’d taken after their dolt of a father. Oh well, he still had his uses.

She turned back to the man, who hadn’t risen from his bow. She’d forgotten to give him permission. Oh well. “That’s quite alright. I’m sure it wasn’t anything intended. Lead the way, that we might finally have a solid roof over our heads. For my part, I’d rather never see a boat again if I can help it. You may rise.”

The man looked relieved. Whether it was because she’d finally let him stand or because she’d taken his news calmly, she could not say.

“Right away Your Grace. Right away. Follow me.” He set off down the wooden platform, and their small party had no choice but to follow him. The village wasn’t too far off. Above it, atop a large hill, loomed Storm’s End, as imposing as all the stories had said. No-one here knew it, but they were here on a siege, a siege that would determine the fate of every man in the Seven Kingdoms.

It was only when they were almost at the end of the docks that her brother walked up beside the man and prodded him.

“Say, you never mentioned who this new…Woman is. Surely you’ve heard something, if she’s supposed to be so important.”

The man answered without breaking his stride. “I can’t say. I’ve never heard of her. I believe she called herself…let me see…Daenerys or some such.”

Despite herself, despite her years of training, Margaery missed a step.

You’re losing control. Your grasp on the Iron Throne gets feebler by the day. It was true enough. Of all the people in the world, she was now going to run into Daenerys Targaryen. She would have much preferred someone like Myrcella. Margaery had heard the stories. This Targaryen led with her savages worse than any even Sansa led. At least those brutes came from the Seven Kingdoms. You can bed one Targaryen, but what about the other? 

“Your Grace, we’re here.” 

She shook her head, looking up at Loras walking beside her. He looked concerned enough to make her punch him. She got a hold of herself with an effort. This was no time to be in her own head. Looking ahead, their small party had just crested a small rise, looking out into what must have been this tiny village’s center. It was empty, as if the whole settlement was abandoned. Every now and then, she caught someone staring out from one of the many building’s dark windows.

Even here, the people are afraid. It was a sober reminder. The common folk had lost faith in the crown. Not just hers, but in any crown. Margaery needed to bring stability and bring it fast. Fear would only last so long. Her grandmother’s words rang in her ear. No man can be trampled on forever. She wondered if it might not already have been too late.

Up ahead, near where all of the different roads from the village’s outskirts seemed to be meeting a single point, there was a small gathering of people in front of a large, ornate carriage. That’s supposed to be my carriage, she thought bitterly. Stepping closer, she could now make out the men’s strange, padded black armor with spiked helms. With what she’d learned, she could guess who they were. Unsullied. Dickless men thousands of leagues away from where they should be.

Her breath caught, staring at the woman at the very center of the gathering. The short woman was pale, her skin almost the color of milk. Her hair was just as striking, seeming to radiate the sunlight. She was dressed in a dress of a fashion she didn’t recognize. It left little to the imagination, her low neckline reaching all the way down to her bosom. Here she’d been worrying she was dressed too provocatively -her gold lined bodice was more than enough to make men stare as it was.

This was worse than she could have ever imagined. A female Targaryen back from the dead was one thing, a gorgeous one quite another. Men would forgive such a woman much and follow where she led. Margaery herself should know, more than anyone. 

Her first impression of the woman was…less than ideal. The young woman seemed to be glaring a hole at the large, stately man she was talking to. Margaery would have bet a good few coins that was this ‘Lord Jon’ that the peasant had been talking about. To his credit, he looked over at her party and seemed to almost sigh in relief. He walked towards her, the Targaryen following behind him with a glare. He made a small bow.

“Your Grace, apologies for not being able to attend to you personally. One could hardly have expected two Queens to show up on our shores on the same day.”

Daenerys redirected her glare from the man onto her. Margaery couldn’t help but shiver. The woman’s eyes looked wild, as if she were more of a beast than a woman. She had her nose raised in the air, almost trying to make her feel like she was the shorter of the two.

“Queen? And who might you be, if I may ask?” It wasn’t really a question.

Margaery sighed. This one’s going to be more trouble than I thought. Still…I might as well get the measure of her. At least Loras had the good sense not to speak up, even if he looked like he desperately wanted to. Seven have mercy.

“The one true Queen. I am Margaery Tyrell -now Lannister- the one who holds the Iron Throne,” she brought her lips into what must have been an infuriating smirk, “I am rightful Queen of all Seven Kingdoms.”

She might have pushed a little too far. The other woman looked almost murderous for a moment, her fists visibly clenching. The guards around her took a step forward. Loras stepped in front of her. Everything was happening too fast. No, no! Not violence. Blessedly, the other woman took a deep breath, before closing her eyes. When she looked back at her, her violet eyes were calm, a cold rage rather than one burning hot.

“Well Queen, I am Daenerys Stormborn, the Mother of Dragons, the Breaker of Chains, the rightful heir to these Seven Kingdoms and I have come to retake my birthright.” 

That last part cracked like a whip. Everyone took a step back, even the Prince’s right hand man. It took everything in her to not react the same way. She certainly has a flair for the dramatic, this one.

“Well, it seems we both claim to be the Queen of these lands. Yet, only I sit atop the Iron Throne. I don’t quite like the thing that much, it’s quite uncomfortable. Still, it is mine, to do with as I wish.”

Daenerys’ calm slipped for a moment, her nostrils flaring. She took a small step forward again. This time, Jon cleared his throat before stepping in between the two women.

“Now, there’s no need for that, certainly not between two refined women such as yourselves. The carriage is here and the Prince must be waiting. He does not like to wait.”

That was enough to make even the other woman pause. Well well, I do suppose we’re both here for the same thing then. At least now I know why this bitch is here.

She turned to stare at him, her face the image of grace and serenity. “You’re quite right,” she continued, “I do believe we got ahead of ourselves. I suppose I should take the carriage first, seeing as it must have been waiting here for me.”

“I think the young Prince will be much more eager to finally meet his aunt. It only makes sense that I take the carriage first,” Daenerys broke in. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.

Still, she wasn’t a queen for nothing. Besides, she needed to know more about this woman. As it stood, she was the biggest threat for miles. Margaery had to either subdue the woman or find some kind of weakness she could exploit.

“I don’t suppose there’s any reason why we both can’t share? It would help us catch up, before meeting the young Prince.” She added, after only the slightest hesitation.

Oddly, Daenerys seemed pleased. The Targaryen smirked before nodding her approval. “I quite like the idea. I do believe it would be best if we could…talk, in private.”

I am going to skin this bitch. For his part, Jon only looked even more concerned. Still, he finally sighed before nodding. 

“It’s a half hour’s journey. I have some affairs to attend to here. Give His Grace my regards.”

Margaery nodded, turning to see the other woman already stepping inside the carriage. She started to follow behind her, pausing when she noticed Loras starting to move.

“Stay. You can come up on the next carriage. This is a command.” She whispered. Loras looked as uncertain as she felt. Still, he stepped back. Taking a deep breath, Margaery followed behind Daenerys Targaryen.

The carriage started moving at a somewhat relaxed pace. Both women, sitting opposite each other, seemed to be competing over who could ignore the other more completely. Margaery did not consider herself prideful for a Queen, at least, no more than any other she’d seen. Something about this woman though made her want to act as if she embodied all the weight of Highgarden.

The silence stretched for an uncomfortably long moment, the only sound being from the carriage as it rolled over what must have been a large rock. Let’s test the waters…

“I’m surprised. I never would have expected there to be not one but two Targaryens. I believe everyone was under the impression the house had died out.”

The pale beauty was staring out of the window, looking unblinkingly at the hill driving past her. She turned that gaze onto her. It made Margaery’s skin crawl. It’s like she wasn’t even looking at her, but at someone past her, someone miles and miles away. Madness does run in her family. She might be just like her father. A good thing for me, perhaps. 

“Certain people did try to smother me. I scattered their ashes away in the wind. I’m just relieved to see my nephew proved as hard to kill as I did.”

So she can maintain her composure a little. This one isn’t a fool. Mad, perhaps, but not a fool. She didn’t have time for this. The castle was getting closer. It wasn’t something she enjoyed but she needed to be a bit more blunt.

“And are you here to…help continue the house?” Margaery stared pointedly at the other woman’s cleavage. Personally she’d thought being so blunt might put Aegon off. She had been regretting that decision.

Just like before, the other woman’s nose flared, her eyes trying to burn a hole through her. She leaned forward, halving the distance between them.

“Perhaps. I don’t suppose you’re any different. I know full well the position you’re in Queen. Personally, I’d say you look more like a whore than a Queen, but things were different across the sea.”

So that’s how it was going to be. Anger aside, it did put a wrench in her plans. Everyone knew about the Targaryens and their tendency to only marry within their own bloodline. Would Aegon be the same? For the sake of everything she’d worked for, she prayed not. 

“Well, you did say you were already a mother. Of dragons, I recall? Tell me, where are these ‘dragons’ now?” 

She didn’t have the time to react. Before she knew it, she was on the floor, clutching her cheek. Margaery stared up in disbelief even as her cheek reddened in pain. The other woman was standing over her, glaring down.

“How dare you, you little bi-” Margaery didn’t finish her sentence. Another slap sent her toppling down onto her side. She felt the other woman pin her to the ground, her foot digging painfully into her chest.

“I’ve put up long enough with your petty taunts. I am Daenerys Stormborn and I will have my throne back. I don’t know how a rat like you managed to steal it, but it is mine now.”

She tried to get up, her resistance only making the other woman press down harder. Daenerys was staring down imperiously, a Queen punishing a subject that had failed to show the proper respects. What did she expect, an oath? Margaery did the only thing she could think of. She brought her head up and bit down hard on the side of her leg.

Daenerys screamed, wrenching her foot away. Margaery had bit down deep, and a thin gash of blood dripped down her leg. She was not about to let her recover. She kicked the other woman, hard. Daenerys toppled with a thud as Margaery raced to get on top of her. Someone was screaming, she couldn’t tell who anymore. I’m going to make her pay. She pinned the other woman’s arms beneath her legs, her hands slipping into her shirt.

Idly Margaery thanked the Seven; it was too loud for anyone to hear the two of them. The bumbling carriage more than made sure of that. There would be screams, she’d have nothing less from this pompous bitch. She wondered how far she could take things. Had it been up to her, she’d have broken the woman in half, with her own hands if she had to. No, she had to be more…subdued about this.

“What are you-” that’s as far as she got before she screamed. Margaery had dug her nails into her perfect mounds, clawing at her breasts, at her nipples. She paused for a moment to pull her dress apart, exposing her to the cold air. Daenerys whimpered as Margaery twisted her nipples painfully, almost as if she was trying to pull them off.

“I don’t know who you think you are, you little slut but this is my Kingdom. Mine.” She pinched the other woman’s nipples again for emphasis. “You will either serve me or serve in a brothel.” Now that she was on top of her, the Targaryen was much easier to manage. She was a head taller. Margaery almost grinned, she was going to ruin this girl long before they made it to Storm’s End.

Margaery seemed to have an epiphany. She let one of her hands roam to the other woman’s cheek, stroking her like a favorite pet. “No, perhaps I was too harsh. I know just the thing. You’ll serve the realm. Doubtless many a Lord and many a Knight would be pleased to have a Targaryen whore to play with at his leisure.” It wasn’t a threat. She’d already decided, this was exactly what she’d have the other woman do.

Daenerys screamed, not in pain but in rage. Somehow, she managed to wrench free an arm, before clawing at Margaery’s dress. It was too late. As soon as she found purchase in her chest, she clamped down hard. Margaery whimpered, not letting go of her own hand. Lances of pain raced through her as the other woman attacked her like a wild animal. Her own blows had been done to subdue, these were done to destroy. 

It only took one moment of distraction. The Targaryen threw her body to the side, causing the both of them to roll until they thudded against the side of the carriage. Thankfully, she’d at least let go of her breasts. Daenerys raised her hand in a slap, her face murderous. Naturally, Margaery shielded her face, screaming as the slap rang across her breasts instead. She didn’t let up, one blow following another, all of them aimed at her chest. Dazed, Margaery slumped over, before feeling a weight pressing down.

Daenerys sat on top of stomach, her fingers now clamping down over her naked breasts violently. When had she moved her dress out of the way? Margaery hardly had time to think.

“I will admit, you caught me by surprise. You should have finished things while you had the chance.” She snarled then, pulling her breasts with all the strength she had. “I’m going to make you a man, you Queenly Whore.” Her head swam, her voice grew hoarse. This wasn’t like with Myrcella at all. 

“Keep me as a pet, will you?” Daenerys sneered, her vitriol coating each word. “I will have all of your limbs torn off, one by one. I will parade you through the streets. The same will happen to any other family you might have. You will live as a limbless beggar.” As if to highlight her point, she pulled her hand back and slapped Margaery hard. Her vision went dark, her head swam. Only her pride kept her from collapsing. Myrcella had been easier, so much easier. She did the only thing she could.

She pulled her leg out from beneath the small woman, jerking her away. She then stamped her foot down hard over the other woman’s crotch. The scream that came was as guttural as it was satisfying. Daenerys toppled, rolling on the ground and clutching at her crotch. This was all the time she needed. Margaery had found her opening. She crawled over to the woman, one arm pulling away her hand even as the other dug into her loins.

“Rip out my breasts, will you? Make me a beggar? You?” Margaery hissed, her fingers digging into the woman, even through her dress. With one hand, she pressed the other woman down, the other prodding through the clothing until they found her skin. She paused, her fingers damp where they’d touched the other woman’s sex. Never in her life had she been angrier. It took all the willpower she had not to do something drastic. I have to be discreet. She chanted in her mind.

“So that’s how it is you whore. You like me fucking you, is that it?” The other woman’s arousal was unmistakable. She pushed her fingers violently inside her, making her spasm. Instead of a scream, Daenerys let out a moan. Margaery leaned down, her face looming over the fallen Targaryen. The two stared at each other, two sets of eyes burning in hate. It was a small victory, they both knew she had been right. Margaery just hoped the other woman hadn’t realized that the opposite might have been true as well.

“Maybe I’ll make you my little whore instead. Maybe it’ll be amusing having one Targaryen to warm my bed, and the other to serve as my pet. Don’t worry, I won’t be nearly as pleasant with you. I just have to find a collar to leash you.” She regretted the words almost as soon as she’d said them. If she knew one thing about Daenerys, it was that she was prideful. Snarling, Daenerys balled her fist and punched Margaery hard. She gasped, bending over.

She felt a hand sliding down her dress but it was already too late. Daenerys was clawing wildly at her womanhood. It was all she could do to not let go with her own hand. There was no other option, the two woman pressed hard against each other’s sex, their eyes locking as if in a duel. Margaery didn’t know when the Targaryen had started moaning, or when her own voice had joined her. This was about pride now. Her teeth clenched as she tried to control herself. A thin drop of blood was running down Daenerys cheeks. She was biting down. This whore is crazy. Margaery must have been the same, taking things this far.

Despite the pain, she smiled in the back of her mind. The Targaryen was now showing off her true colors, spasming on the ground like a common wench. She’d have gloated, if not for the fact that her own body had started spasming against her will. She collapsed to her knees, her legs pressing against the other woman. Daenerys’ eyes were half lidded, hers must have been much the same.

She felt disgusted, deriving pleasure from this creature of all things. That got drowned out more and more by the pleasure. Daenerys was trying to clench her eyes, thin tears leaking out. Doubtless it hurt her pride even more than it did Margaery’s. Then, the woman did something she would never have imagined.

Margaery sighed in relief as the Targaryen pulled her hand away. Her relief turned into horror, as the woman grinded her glistening, sticking fingers across her cheek. She seemed deeper in the throes of pleasure than she had before. Does she think this is some kind of victor’s mark?

Margaery growled, wrenching her fingers away from the other woman’s cunt before jamming her fingers into her mouth. The Targaryen gagged and Margaery kept pushing her fingers forward. “Swallow whore, swallow!” She screamed with all the rage she could manage. It was a mistake, Daenerys seized the moment, shoving her own fingers into her mouth. 

They both stared at each other, mirror images of disgust and hate. It was a stalemate. Margaery had no doubt this crazy bitch would have bitten her cum soaked finger clean off if she tried pulling her hand away. Thankfully, the threat of her doing the same thing stayed her fangs. Drool and cum started to dribble down both women’s lips. They stared at each other, each looking more regal than the next despite their state. It was as if the first to admit their humiliation would lose.

Finally, sound broke out over the churning of the wagon. It was people, so many people talking all at once that their voices all but filled the carriage. The disgust on their faces soon changed into abject horror. “Oh shit!” Both women said, almost in unison.

Without a word, both women jerked away from each other, all squabbles forgotten. Margaery was fixing her dress, the other woman had pulled down the blinds. It was the first time they’d ever been on the same page. Margaery herself was trying desperately to fix her dress. She was mortified. It had all escalated so fast.

I will make her pay. Even if I have to bring down Storms End on top of her head.

The carriage finally came to a stop. The two women weren’t looking at each other. As well they shouldn’t. Daenerys might have just stabbed the woman right then and there. I haven’t felt so humiliated in a long time. It was a bitter thought. She was a Queen, no, the True Queen and she’d squabbled with a pretender like a common whore. It almost made her laugh at the absurdity of it.

They’d both just barely managed to look presentable. Thankfully, they hadn’t torn anything yet. Their hair was disheveled, and Daenerys had to pull down on her leg to cover the gash. Still, they both looked fine. Fine enough, she hoped.

The door opened, a grim faced guard poking his head inside before flinging the door open wider. Several men were arranged neatly in a line. This was more like it, a procession actually fit for a Queen. She made a move to stand, Margaery pointedly getting out before her. Whatever else, she has spirit. I’m going to enjoy seeing her suffer.

It was an insult, but Daenerys got out without complaint. She had a bigger objection in mind. She stared at the end of the row of men and her breath caught.

He was dressed plainly but it didn’t matter. His gorgeous, pale skin seemed to reflect the light. It had been many, many years since she’d seen another Targaryen. There was no mistaking it. He was tall and broad shouldered, a King among men. She saw the little tarp making her way towards him and swallowed a curse before making to follow.

Daenerys was pleased. Margaery stood expectantly in front of the Prince but he didn’t speak until she stood beside her. He made a small bow with his head, his violet eyes freezing her where she stood. Oh Light but he is beautiful…

“I am pleased to see your journey here has been safe. I was expecting one Queen, but two certainly brightens the occasion.” 

Daenerys could have sworn she saw his nose twitch and his eyes widen slightly. It was only for the barest second. It happened so fast she must have imagined it. Aegon was now calm again.

“I am Aegon Targaryen, son of Rhaegar Targaryen and I am the true King of these Seven Kingdoms.”

For some reason, him laying claim to that didn’t bother her nearly as much. After all, every King needs a Queen. She shook herself at the thought.

“Thank you. The journey was most comfortable, Your Grace. I am Margaery Tyrell. I sit atop the Iron Throne of the Seven Kingdoms.”

She found herself cutting in almost by instinct. “I am Daenerys Targaryen, sister of Rhaegar Targaryen.” Her introduction was much more humble, much simpler. It was odd. When was the last time she’d been humble? Aegon seemed to like her introduction much better. He smiled at her and she froze again.

“Well now, I’m sure I’ll get very well acquainted with the both of you. Forgive me, there is a small matter I must attend to. I’m sure you must both be weary from the journey.”

He motioned towards one of his soldiers. “See these fine women have the finest rooms in Storms End.”

The man jerked and hurriedly voiced his assent. Aegon made another small bow, before walking down the line of soldiers. He seemed rightly pleased with himself. The soldier Aegon had been talking to bowed deeply.

“If you would be so kind as to follow me…err..Your Graces.”

He spun and walked towards the large doors of the fortress. Margaery glared at her, her lips curling as she whispered.

“This isn’t over.”

“Disappointed he found me prettier?” Daenerys bit back. Margaery raced away, following the soldier before he went out of sight. Daenerys looked behind her, her eyes fixed on Aegon as he slowly walked away from her. She felt a stirring in her loins. 

The End

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