Jon stands before the Iron Throne looking at the thousands of swords moulded into shape, surrendered by the Aegon the conqueror's enemies. He doesn't dare to sit on it, but he wants to. He waits for Daenerys. The Queen.

It has been a hard battle, but soon the city was defeated, with the superior power of the dragons, and the unsullied. They have been valiant in their victory, and compassionate. When Jon heard the bell ringing, he ordered that the battle be stopped. There has been enough death. The city is still largely intact. Daenerys will rule over Kings landing and she will gain their trust and admiration.

"Jon?"

He turns, relieved to see her. Daenerys is panting, out of breath, her hair covered with a fine, grey dust. She looks at the throne and her eyes gleam with excitement. He has the sudden urge to block her path, to prevent her from moving towards it. To hide his inclination, he goes to her and enfolds her in his arms.

"You see?" he says as cheerfully as he can muster, "I knew it would work out!"

She laughs up at him, delighted by his simple turn of phrase.

"And you have been a most brave and dedicated warrior."

"Thank you."

"But now, there is something important I must do."

She pulls away from him, but he stops her.

"There's something I have to tell you."

"What?" she asks, still smiling.

"It's about my parents," he says slowly, wondering how he is going to explain this to her. "They are not who I thought they were."

"Who are they then?"

Daenerys stops smiling.

"Well, that's the thing. It turns out that I'm not Ned Stark's bastard, I'm the son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen who were secretly married. Bran told me, he saw it in a vision, then Sam confirmed it. My true name is Aegon Targaryen."

Daenerys blinks up at him, then bursts out laughing.

"What? Aegon Targaryen? What game is this?"

"It's no game," Jon says seriously. "It's the truth."

"Don't toy with me," she says, suddenly angry. "If it's true, why have you waited until now to tell me?"

"Because I knew what was at stake. I thought that if you knew that I was the true heir to the Iron Throne, you wouldn't support me in this battle."

"True heir?" she said mockingly, "who told you that?"

"I am the oldest born son of Rhaegar Targaryen, that makes me the heir."

"And I am Khaleesi, the unburnt, the breaker of chains, the mother of dragons. I am the true Queen."

They are eyeball to eyeball, staring at each other. Jon realises that he is gripping the handle of his sword.

"Our child will continue our line," he almost pleads, "He will succeed to the throne one day. We must live for him, do everything in our power to keep him safe."

"Or she, it could be a girl."

"Yes," he says smiling at the thought.

"And now?" Daenerys asks, "who will sit on the throne now?"

The air around them is acrid and stale. Fires burn below them in the city, making the air thick with smoke.

"Dany, please. Don't do this."

Daenerys eyes fill with tears.

"I love you," she says, "but all of this," she waves to the destruction all around them, "I did for my people."

"Are you sure?"

Daenerys swallows and a tear escapes down her cheek. She nods, believing her own doctrine.

"Isn't it true that you were often driven by revenge? A way to get back at all the men who have mistreated you, beaten you and overpowered you? But I'm not like that Dany. I am on your side. I adore you and would never hurt you. I would protect you and love you until the day I die."

"I don't need protecting!" she yells, backing away from him. "I have my dragons, the unsullied, I am a Queen, a warrior, I will never bend the knee to any man, including you."

"I'm not asking you to."

"You're not?"

"No."

Daenerys looks at him quizzically.

"What do you propose then?"

"I propose that we share the throne until our child is old enough to rein. We will guard the throne, keep it safe, until then."

"No, I have a better idea."

Daenerys closes her eyes and slowly raises her hands into the air. There is a whooshing sound on the wind, then suddenly Drogo appears over the rooftops, majestically descending towards them. He lands heavily, making Jon jump back. Drogo's green eyes gleam as he looks at Jon. Daenerys speaks to the dragon in a strange tongue that Jon still doesn't understand. Jon feels his heart begin to pound. Are these his last moments alive?

Slowly the dragon looks at Daenerys, then Jon as they stand a few feet apart. Slowly, but surely, the dragon moves towards Jon, who tenses, waiting to die. Then Drogo, lowers his head, his huge jaw coming to rest at Jon's feet so that Jon can reach forward and touch him. Then he realises that the dragon is bowing his head to him.

"He has chosen," Daenerys says. "You are his king."

"What?" Jon asks uncertainly.

Daenerys laughs, a high-pitched slightly hysterical sound.

"I needed to be sure that what you were saying was true, if you really have Targaryen blood in your veins, but I see now that it is true. Perhaps I have always known it. The dragons understood you, even though you didn't know it. They let you ride them, touch them, you weren't afraid of them like other men."

"But I don't need to be King," he said quickly, "we can share."

"How?" Daenerys laughs, "there is only one throne. Come. Sit on the throne, it is yours."

Still, Jon doesn't know if he can believe her. Is this a trap? Drogo lifts his huge head and watches Jon as he walks towards the throne. He climbs up the steps, one by one, feeling the eyes on his back, waiting for the fire to hit him. He turns at the top and faces them. Then he sits.

"I will let you be King," Daenerys says, coming to stand before him, looking up at him, "but I will not bend the knee!"

Jon nods, but he is thinking, 'we'll see about that.'

Tyrion rushes into the room and sees the dragon and Jon upon the throne. He looks confused, but also relieved. He bows deeply.

"Your Grace," he says.

When he stands, Daenerys stares at him. Tyrion bows his head quickly and mumbles,

"Your Grace."

"No Tyrion," Daenerys says quietly. "There is only one king."

"So, you know?"

"Yes."

Tyrion looks nervously towards Drogo then at Jon, then back at Daenerys.

"So, are you satisfied? Or will there be more fighting?"

"No, there will be no more fighting. I am going to have a child, an heir to the Iron Throne and one day she will rule for me."

"She?" asks Tyrion.

"I have seen her in my dreams, fearless, beautiful, she will rule with an iron fist."

Daenerys says this passionately, her eyes sparkling in the burning lights of the city.

"And you will be her hand."

Tyrion bows his head.

"Thankyou."

Daenerys claps her hands and Drogo rises, then swoops up into the sky. As soon as the dragon is gone, there is a sound of many voices and footsteps and suddenly the hall is full of men. The unsullied and the men of Winterfell crowd towards the throne, forcing Daenerys to climb the steps towards Jon. Angry voices fill the air as the unsullied see who is on the throne.

"Stop!"

Daenerys raises her hand in the air.

"It has been decreed that from this day on Jon Targaryen will be King. I relinquish my claim to the Iron Throne. He will be your commander, I order it!"

A hushed silence falls. Then Yara Greyjoy falls to her knee and bows her head.

"Your Grace," she says to Jon.

One by one, all around her the unsullied and war-weary men of Winterfell bend the knee to Jon, their rightful King. Jon stands and gestures for them all to rise.

"I did not ask to be King," he says quietly at first. "But I think it was written in the stars. I hope that I have stood beside you all in battle, for we have come a long way from Winterfell, from Slaver's Bay, from the Iron Islands. We must now stand together to bring peace to the Seven Kingdoms and that will be my motto. No More War!"

"No More War!" the unsullied chant, stamping their spears upon the ground.

"I will be a fair King, a just King. I will learn from the mistakes we have made in the past and try to do better."

There are more cheers.

"And lastly, I will marry the Queen of Dragons, as she will henceforth be called."

"The Queen of Dragons!" the Unsullied chant.

Daenerys smiles and nods.

"Tyrion will be my hand," Jon says, gesturing for Tyrion to join them on the platform.

There is more cheering as Tyrion climbs up the steps and stands beside them smiling gratefully.

"Do you have any words?" Jon asks him.

Tyrion clears his throat and looks thoughtful.

"I am pleased that we can all join together to create peace in this land, but we must still learn to live with each other, to respect each other. As a great friend of mine once said, 'Any fool with a bit of luck can find himself born into power. But earning it for yourself, that takes work.'Jon has proven himself to us, not only on the battlefield, but as a man. He has good judgement and inspires respect among his men, in short, he is a King!"

More cheers.

Jon stands up again to speak.

"Let us rejoice now that the war is over. And mourn the dead. We have work to do, to rebuild the kingdom, to return Winterfell to its former glory, and to turn Kings landing into a safe haven for everyone who visits here. We will have a feast to celebrate then we will get down to work, for there is lots of work to be done."

Jon stands beside Daenerys, his arm around her waist, smiling and happy. She leans into him, feels his strength, his quiet confidence. Being with Jon is the only way that she will be content, but it has taken her this long to realise it. In the end it is love, not hate that has saved her, risen her above the tyranny of the Targaryen name, a name that Jon now shares. Love has made her realise who she really is, the Queen of Dragons, yes, but also a Targaryen, Jon's wife and the mother of his child.

The End.