The Iron Throne was uncomfortable.

Too many swords near the headrest, in her humble opinion. They could have done with more littered around the seat. Robert Baratheon had removed quite a few, reducing the mountain significantly.

(Maybe it looked different because the last time Saera sat on it by herself, she'd been ten and holding a newborn Viserys.)

Just as she had in Meereen, she held an audience for most of the day, listening to the concerns of Westerosi men and women who came from all corners of the Realm. It was exhausting, yet she still made time for sparring after her dinner, insistent on remaining strong.

She wouldn't be like other rulers who let their ability to defend themselves decline solely because they wore a crown. She'd be embarrassed to find herself sitting down while the Queensguard fought to keep her safe.

"It astounds me that you aren't yet tired," said Jorah, panting heavily as she climbed off of him, fluffing up her hair and still energetic enough to retrieve a glass of wine for him. He probably wouldn't be able to stand on his own for another half hour.

(He'd never admit it but his legs turned to jelly just at the sight of her. To have a dragon riding him was another matter entirely and he could scarcely feel his feet afterwards. His limbs tingled pleasantly, leaving him completely at her mercy. Not that it was a problem; he loved how she brushed her fingers through his hair and how she lay on his chest, catching her breath.)

Saera didn't mind taking care of him, happily offering him the wine and kissing the top of his head. "It fills me with joy to be here, now that I've had two weeks to adjust. Ruling feels more natural than I thought. And I'm quite happy not to have to hide you away."

"I thought there would be some protest to your proposal. Men wishing to marry you, thinking they were more worthy than a traitor."

"Well, my children will not sit the Iron Throne unless Jon somehow thinks our daughters or sons are going to be better rulers than whoever sits the seat of each Great House at the time. The men don't gain much."

"Many would still wish to be married to a Queen. You are an inspiration, you are strong, you are incredibly beautiful."

She smirked. "And you, my dear King consort, are incredibly handsome. When do you wish to be wed?"

"I have no preference. It is still early into your rule... you have much to do."

"Yes, but time can always be made for a small ceremony. I assume we both wish for a small wedding?"

"It would be ideal, yes."

"Then we only need our families and a High Septon. Any day we wish. Our work here is just beginning but what I have inherited from those who came before me is significantly better than I expected. Cersei eliminated the entirety of the Crown's debt; I don't need to worry about paying anything back, only how we will make money, how will will use what we have to build schools and help each Kingdom. No sense in spending what we do have on stupid tourneys to celebrate every other small accomplishment. I want us to all capable of producing something we can be proud of. I want to attempt the same system of trades that we started in Meereen. There is no way of knowing how that is working out under my sister but I thought it was going well. It may help those with shared talents to learn from each other. Encourage community, put more minds to a task and improve rapidly..."

He cleared his throat. "My Queen, I must ask... what about your sister?"

"You think I should write to her?" asked Saera quietly. "Ser Jamie has chosen to go to Essos... I could send him to Meereen to see Tyrion whilst carrying a message from me. But what would I say? She thinks I stole her birthright, her throne. I just conquered it like anyone could have, I put myself here because she was..." she made a face. "It doesn't matter. Surely she'd see it as an insult if I told her what I managed. And what would be added to that letter? A request for her to come and bend the knee? A query about a potential alliance? She will take it badly, you know she will."

"You two have been away from one another for nearly a year," said Jorah. "Perhaps she is different, perhaps she has learned from her mistakes."

Saera wanted to believe that. It was better than worrying about when her sister would come with an extra dragon and her viciously loyal armies to try and lay claim to her throne.

"I hope so," said Saera, wiggling under the sheets to lay beside him. "But that may come later. At this moment there is only one thing I wish to do."

There was a fuzzy warmth within him as she kissed his jaw and looped her arm over his chest.

Eventually the audiences died down. To Saera, it didn't mean the work was done. It meant it was time to check on her kingdoms personally.

Her Small Council was left in charge. She had no fears about leaving King's Landing; no one would take it from her. Everyone respected her and the city had never been safer. They could survive on their own just fine while she went on a royal tour to speak to those who hadn't been able to make the trip to the Crownlands but wished to be heard.

Jorah accompanied her, along with the Queensguard. Viserion flew happily overhead as they rode, occasionally being given sheep and horses to eat by farmers who wanted to see him as close as possible.

Their first stop was the Stormlands. They stayed a week, finding that Gendry had adjusted well to being Lord of Storm's End. He'd proposed a marriage between himself and Arya, but the adventurous young wolf was more interested in venturing west, which he and everyone else respected. He would aim to wed and produce heirs with a daughter from one of his vassal houses. Despite having no experience, he was doing well.

He was advised by some of the much older lords who'd served Robert Baratheon's father and a few younger ones who had risen up after Renly died and Stannis left to pursue the crown. They were good men in Saera's eyes, and she was particularly taken by a young girl of House Penrose who had risked her life opening the gates for the Westerosi men who came to root the Lannisters out during the siege of King's Landing. Gendry seemed to like her, too.

Many more men and women came to Storm's End to see her. Some didn't even have any concerns, they just wanted to see Saera for themselves. The younger children were most interested in Viserion, and a few were brave enough to ask for a ride. Their parents hesitantly consented, and were relieved when their little ones came back unharmed and crying out happily that they had flown.

It was something they'd never forget.

Next, they went to Dorne. Ellaria greeted them warmly, her Sand Snakes already being courted by men from outside Dorne now that they'd been named Martells. Most of them preferred to stay in Dorne, but Sarella and Elia had always been more adventurous than the rest and wanted to see what sort of life could exist in other Kingdoms.

Their people knew Saera best. They respected her, they revered her more than most. The children adored her and many said that they wished to be just like her when they grew up. She wasn't the best warrior that Dorne ever produced, but she was still their pride and joy.

The Reach was just as kind. The Citadel and the Hightower amazed Jorah, and Highgarden was as beautiful as Saera remembered. She walked through the gardens with Lady Olenna and paid her respects to Queen Margaery and Ser Loras Tyrell. She let a group of children make her a series of flower crowns that she wore as they rode to up to Casterly Rock.

The Lannisters that remained greeted her with respect. They would not forget the mercy she showed them, the generous choice she offered to Ser Jaime, and the seat she granted to Janei Lannister because she recognized the girl's ability to understand money in ways that Saera still needed to learn. The Targaryens and Lannisters had been friends a few times in the past; this she wished to keep consistent. The war was over, there was no need for animosity.

Little Hoster Tully was one of the most adorable babies that Saera had ever seen. Curly red hair and shining hazel eyes. Lord Edmure remembered how he, his sisters, and Saera used to play right on the banks where the Red Fork met Tumblestone. His wife, Lady Roslin, was as kind as Saera figured she would be. The men of the Riverlands had always been friends, and they would certainly always remember how she'd used Riverrun to protect the innocent from the Great War.

They sailed to the Iron Islands to see how Yara was settling in. The Ironborn loved her, of this Saera had no doubt. She was a fine captain and an even better person. Theon would be traveling between Pyke and Winterfell to keep a good relationship with both of his families.

By the time they finally arrived at Winterfell, Jon's six months were nearly over. Already, he was preparing for Sansa's coronation. The Northerners were delighted. They loved both Jon and Sansa, and they knew that Saera would keep her promise about letting them govern themselves, despite the fact the North hadn't actually left the coalition due to Jon being named as heir. After all the time they'd spent with her, they'd actually grown to like her. They spoke of how Cregan Stark had supported The Black Queen, Rhaenyra Targaryen, and believed that the North and the Targaryens would remain friends; Saera was not her father and they knew this to be true, having seen it with their own eyes.

Jon would return with them. Sansa's coronation was held the day before they mounted their horses and made for the Crownlands. Saera stood proudly, placing the crown over Sansa's head and kneeling to her as the girl smiled, a small tear sliding down her cheek.

Her parents would be so proud.

"The trip back will be long," said Saera, looking over at Jorah as they made camp just outside of the Neck, the Twins visible in the distance. "The raven I sent will arrive before we do. By the time we return, the High Septon will be ready to wed us."

"Good," he said, looking to where Lyanna (who came along for the wedding) was correcting Podrick on his form for shooting down pheasants. "I imagine Ellaria and the Sand Snakes will be waiting for us there?"

"Of course, they wouldn't miss my wedding. I once thought Rhaegar would give me away. When I was growing up in Dorne, Oberyn told me he would be the one there the day I was ready to take a husband. I thought Oberyn would be there to hold my first child... he used to talk about what beautiful children I'd have, how the Sand Snakes would have a nephew or niece with pale blonde hair and mesmerizing purple eyes." She grinned, brushing hair away from Jorah's forehead. "Our children will be dragonriders. Even if there aren't more dragons... perhaps one day one of our sons or daughters will ride Viserions. Maybe there are more eggs to be found. I will see what Lord Varys can find out."

"Our children," repeated Jorah. "It still sounds strange to me. It seems... unreal."

"Perhaps not so unreal," she said quietly. She took his hand. "I noticed something, when we were in Winterfell. Time has been strange since we started this tour, and I wasn't sure when I was meant to bleed. But I know I did not, the entire time we were there. I should have, surely. It's been some time since my last. It could be nothing. It could simply mean I am too old; my mother told me this eventually happened to women after a certain age. But..."

She put his hand under her chin, smiling at him. "There is a chance. When we arrive in King's Landing, I will go and see Samwell. It may become real much sooner than we think."

"You believe so?" he said softly.

"I wish to. I don't know what the signs are, how I should be able to tell. But maybe, just maybe."

"I will love you whether we do or don't manage to have children," he swore.

"As will I. This may be nothing, or it may be something. Either way, there is only one thing I need in this life, Jorah. And that's you."

He leaned down to press his forehead against hers. "I love you, Saera," he whispered, cupping her face. "So very much."

"And I love you just as much. More, even." She laid herself over his lap, watching Lyanna smack Podrick on the back of his head as Jorah began to brush his hands over her shoulder, thinking the world couldn't possibly be more perfect than it was in that moment.

-

The High Septon was waiting for them at the entrance of the Red Keep. They took time only to eat and bathe, dressed in their most formal wear for the ceremony held in the throne room, the Small Council, Queensguard, and their families watching as Saera strode up to the foot of the Iron Throne, where Jorah held a finely-stitched cloak of House Mormont. He placed it over her shoulders, taking her hands.

"The love of the Seven is holy and eternal," said the High Septon. "The source of life and love. We stand here today in thanks and in praise to join two souls as one. Father, Mother, Warrior, Smith, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. Hear now their vows."

"I am yours and you are mine," said Jorah. "From this day until the end of my days."

"I am yours and you are mine," Saera repeated. "From this day until the end of my days."

"Here," said the High Septon, "in the presence of gods and men, I proclaim Ser Jorah of House Mormont and Queen Saera of House Targaryen, to be man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever."

"With this kiss, I pledge my love," said Jorah.

"And with this kiss I accept it and pledge it in return," whispered Saera as he cupped her face and pressed his lips against hers.

Their celebration was just as private, musicians playing as they danced and their families dined together. Saera's feet ached by the end of the night, despite the fact she'd done far more difficult things for longer periods of time.

She sat between Jorah and Lyanna, listening as Black Fist drunkenly tried to sing with Brienne (who could actually hold a note very well) and Kavarro played a strange game with Podrick and Obara, which involved attempting to slap one another's hands without the victim moving away in time to stop it.

"May the gods bless you," said Ellaria, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. She smoothed her hands over Saera's cheeks. "My beautiful girl, all grown up. Oberyn would be so very proud. You will always have your home in Dorne, when you are ready."

"Thank you," said Saera, holding her wrists and pressing her forehead to hers. "I miss him."

"So do I. But he is here. So is Elia, so are the children. They will watch over you, they will see you be a good Queen with a good man at your side." She smiled weakly, "I always knew we'd have a Dornish Queen."

Jorah watched fondly, seeing how Ellaria hugged Saera to her chest, holding her so tenderly. Despite the fact they shared very little blood, Saera had been Ellaria's first child. The girl she adopted and watched grow into a warrior their country was proud of.

She knew this was the sort of mother Saera would be. Tender and doting but firm and– if the situation called for it– wrathful.

He never wanted it to get to that point. He was her husband now, an official mark for a love they knew had existed for quite some time already. His sword was hers, his life was hers. His cloak over her shoulders marked his protection over her, and now, it extended over the potential children they might have.

He was taught to be a bear, to be strong, patient, and courageous but also to be thoughtful and to protect his family.

He would kill for her. For them.

"Are you off to see Samwell?" asked Jorah when he woke up and found her already bathed and dressed.

"I am," she said with a smile. "I'll be back shortly, he's already expecting me. You, my handsome husband, can wait for me right here." She walked over to him, kissing him firmly. "We'll see if there is something to plan for or... nothing."

"I have a feeling," said Jorah, taking her hand. "Something."

She wiggled her eyebrows. "Then I'm sure much will be said when the people find out their Queen gave birth so soon after her wedding night."

Samwell was perfectly professional once she arrived, three books propped open that he was still skimming as she prepared herself for examination.

"Right, then," said Samwell nervously. "This is my first time trying... any of this. Lay back, Your Grace."

"You'll do just fine," said Saera, lowering herself onto the seat and letting him lift her skirt. "My mother told me about it shortly after she learned she was pregnant with Viserys. Something about wine and breastmilk...?"

"Yes," said Sam, lowering her skirt. "It appears you do have some discoloration, Your Grace, that is expected. Here–" he passed her a cup. "Drink this. The milk of a woman who has birthed a son. If your body rejects it, well..."

"I think it might reject it solely because it knows I ought not be drinking it," said Saera, doing her best to pretend it was regular milk and drinking. At first, it seemed all was well, then out of nowhere, she turned and vomited into a bucket Sam had set beside her. He rubbed her back as she coughed, spitting repeatedly until the taste was gone.

"One more test," he said. "Here." He offered her a smaller pail and pointed to a door in the corner of the room, "Use the privy in this. Urine only."

She stepped into the other room, catching as much as she could in the pail then stepping out to find him again. He had a glass bowl with a clear red wine set out. She offered him the urine, which he poured into the bowl, swirling it and watching as it began to grow cloudy.

"Well, Your Grace," he said, "it appears you are with child."

She smiled. "That is wonderful news. Is there no way to know if it is a girl or boy?"

"It's far too early, but one maester wrote of wheat and barley being used for this. A woman would urinate over a sack of wheat and barley seeds over several days. If the wheat sprouted, it was a girl. If the barley sprouted, it was a boy. If it didn't sprout, they simply weren't pregnant."

"Then we will save that test for another day," she said happily. "Thank you, Samwell. I must go and tell Jorah."

Jorah was barely on his feet when she ran in, leaping into his arms and knocking him back onto the bed. "I take it there is something?" he asked eagerly as she peppered kisses over his face.

"There is something," she confirmed, giggling as he rolled over, containing her excitement. "We are very likely going to have a little one of our own, my King. A little Prince or Princess."

"A Prince or Princess," he repeated. He never even thought he'd be able to have a little Lord or Lady as a child. "I will not leave your side for one second until well after they are born."

"I don't plan to travel anywhere until afterward," she promised. "There is no need to worry. I will train until I cannot anymore. Once my belly gets in the way, there is no sense in exerting myself. Do you know what I wish?" She put his hand on her stomach, "I wish to be like Princess Alyssa and take our little one into the skies as soon as they open their eyes."

"Will there still be room for me?" he asked playfully.

"Of course. Viserion grows larger each day. The spoiled boy has the Dragonpit all to himself. And now, he has even more food than he ever imagined could exist. The armor we made him won't fit soon enough. The saddle will need to be extended. More than enough room for the three of us."

"Three of us," mumbled Jorah. "Soon there will be three. And you, my beautiful Queen, will have a whole kingdom to give them."

"We will have given it to them."

He watched her stomach rising and falling that night, he observed her peaceful expression, hair messy and a strand stuck between her lips. He removed it carefully, causing her to stir slightly, cheeks puffed and lips pursed as she tucked her hands under her head and sighed deeply, slipping back into sleep. It was precious.

Westeros saw her as their ruler, The Dornish Queen, The Slayer, The Sand Dragon, The Red Serpent, The Dragon Raised By Snakes, and to many, The Last Dragon.

He saw her as all those things and more. Sweet Saera, Mhynda, and soon, Mother. She'd made the right choice to lead with love instead of fear. She'd inspire it in others, she'd teach their children well. They'd be so deeply loved without any idea how lucky they were that she was their mother, that a woman who had been through so much and had conquered it all was the same woman that would raise them, who would make their world a better one.

He tensed when he heard a knock on the door. Saera groaned, but didn't get up. "Your Grace," came Varys's voice.

"Saera," said Jorah, nudging her gently. "Saera, my love, it's Lord Varys."

She rubbed her eyes tiredly. "Tell him to come in."

Jorah stood, pulling on a robe before calling, "Come, Varys."

He opened the door, shutting it behind him quickly. "Your Grace," said Varys, rushing to Saera's side as she tugged the blanket up, covering herself. "I would not come if it were not urgent."

"What is it, Lord Varys?" she asked tiredly.

"I've received word from Meereen. Daenerys is on her way to Dragonstone with both her dragons and her entire Unsullied and Dothraki army." He remained serious as Saera's expression dropped. "She'll arrive in a matter of weeks."