A Wedding and an Ascension

In the aftermath of Lord Tywin’s **** there was a kind of chaos about the Capitol, but one that Lady Cersei quickly took advantage of. She made it clear to Jon that with her father no longer an issue he was perfectly free to break his betrothal to Myrcella and wed her instead. Jon was no fool, he knew that the woman had killed her own father to get her way, but he also knew that he had fathered a child on her and he was not keen on leaving a woman widowed and pregnant with a bastard. So, seven days after Lord Tywin was lain to rest, Jon wed Lady Cersei Lannister in the Great Sept of Baelor in front of the eyes of God’s and Men.

They fucked like animals near constantly after that and it was rare that Jon found a night or spare evening when he wasn’t buried up to his balls in Cersei’s cunt. The woman was voracious, enough that she would make him forget the troubles he had experienced and bring out the dragon in him as he ruled as Hand. Aegon was taken aback by the arrangement of course, but he was not one to judge another man’s affairs and settled for congratulating Jon on finding himself a beautiful woman to share his bed.

“I think it’s well past time I found a wife of my own,” The King told him one evening as the two happily drank together, “It’d help secure the line at the very least.”

Jon nodded distantly, “Father always said that too many dragons can be as deadly as too few,” he shrugged, “but Viserys seems content to live on his rock and leave the rest of the world.”

“I may search for a bride North,” Aegon smiled at his brother mischievously, “what do you think? A Stark bride for a Targaryen?” He hit Jon’s shoulder playfully, “it yielded fine results last time didn’t it?”

The Prince snorted at that. “I can certainly vouch for it,” he smiled gently, “I hope whoever you pick, you find love. You deserve it brother.”

Eventually Aegon made the announcement amongst court that he would ride North to Winterfell, where he would speak with Lord Ned Stark and experience one of the most untamed parts of his realm. Jon could have gone with him, he knew that Aegon would welcome it and he hadn’t seen his Stark kin for a time, but the work at the Capitol was far too demanding for him to shirk his duty for the solid month of travel it would take.

Cersei could not travel either as her pregnancy advanced, despite openly lamenting that she would have loved to have seen the Wall. Instead she was able to convince Jon to send her cousin Lancel with the King as his page, so that he might describe the journey and places to her in his letters. The Capitol seemed emptier than usual this time, with his family all in different parts of the realm and most of the courtiers travelling with Aegon, it almost seemed pleasant. There was only the affairs of state and his lusty wife to occupy his time.

It was three weeks into Aegon’s journey that the news arrived, one evening as Jon sat at his desk, looking at the reports the Master Of Ships had sent him about recent pirate attacks, Cersei dutifully between his legs, suckling his cock. She was heavy with child at this point, with tits swollen with milk and a stomach that strained against her dress.

She had his cock well done her throat when Grand Maester Pycelle came into his chambers in a rush, huffing and shambling in the way that only men of his advanced years could. Cersei was obscured by the desk, but she made to pull her mouth away when she heard him enter. Jon dissuaded her of that notion with a hand on the back of her head, and greeted the Maester without reaction.

“Is there a problem Grand Maester?” He asked mildly as Cersei went back to work lapping at his cockhead, “It is awfully late to being intruding in my chambers.”

The old man held out a message, his hand shaking terribly, his face aghast. “My Prince...You must read it quickly, there’s been a terrible accident!”

Frowning, Jon held out his hand and the old man passed it over, watching him intently as Jon began to read. He felt his blood run ice cold, his mouth go dry and his heart begin to beat so fast that he feared it would burst from his chest. Aegon was dead, he had fallen from his horse during a ride through the North and broken his neck. The letter said that he was drunk.

Looking up at Pycelle, he made a faint gesture. “Get out,”

“Well ...er..,” he looked at Jon’s hardened expression and gave a quick bow, “at once,...Your Grace.”

Sensing something must have been wrong, Cersei ceased her affections and rose to her feet to look at him. “What did that old toad want?”

Jon blinked back tears, his voice unsteady. “My...brother is....dead.”

A strange series of expressions danced across Cersei’s face then, and to him it looked as if she was trying very hard to contain a smile. Eventually she settled into something that might have passed for a neautral expression. “A...tragedy,” she said, looking away, “but...what is it that the Septons like to say? When the Gods close a door, they open a window?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Jon asked, his voice flat, his expression hard. “My brother and king lays dead. How is there anything to come from this but grief and loss?”

Cersei looked like a lioness then, even with her pregnancy making her ****. She stalked him slowly, hands working their way down his shoulders, undoing his tunic and letting it to drop on the floor. “Your Brother is dead, yes,” she said, kissing his neck, “but the king still lives. You are now Lord of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“Small consolation.”

“Is it?” She asked with a silky voice, kneeling down and pulling off his breeches, kissing up his thigh and giving the crown of his cock a playful lick. “You have all the power in the world. You can do whatever you want...whatever _we _want.”

Jon regarded her. “What good is power if my family is dead?”

Her hand went to her swollen stomach. “You have a new family now...a whole dynasty, born from your seed.”

Something clicked into place in his mind then, recalling all those months ago when he had first bedded Cersei. She spoke of his children taking the throne, of having everything. At the time he had played it off as her lust addled mind, but now...he was beginning to look at his wife with new eyes.

“You,” he said with an iron conviction. “This was all your work wasn’t it? You convinced me to send that fool Lancel along with Aegon, what did he do...**** his wine? Was that it?”

Cersei to her credit, made no attempt at denying it. Instead she grinned victoriously, licking her lips in pride. “And look what it has brought you? Power, glory, legacy...me.” Slowly she tore her gown from her body and revealed her naked and pregnant body to him. “What has honour ever brought you but servitude as a second son? Rule this realm with me as your Queen and I promise we will create a Westeros that survives for a thousand generations! The gods themselves will weep!”

Jon watched her, mad with grief, mad with rage and mad with lust. Despite the whirlwind inside him, he could see the appeal to what Cersei was offering and much of his old life was gone now. Yet his honour remained, and the two were at war within him.