Duty to the Throne

In the days and weeks that followed Aegon’s ascension to the throne Jon was hard at work managing the the minutiae of ruling. It fell to him to coordinate with the Small Council as to which matters were in dire need of Aegon’s attention, and which could be handled by himself and the others. As an act of good faith to the Lannisters Ser Kevan had been raised to the position of Master of Coin, while Lord Tywin remained on as an informal source of wisdom. The work had largely delayed any plans for his wedding to Myrcella, but with the stress that he was enduring Jon had completely put it from his mind. The bandit attacks had no stopped in their entirety, but there was a marked decrease in the size and ferocity of such attacks.

Queen Elia had not recovered as quickly as her children had hoped, and there was some discussion from Rhaenys about perhaps moving her to the Water Gardens of Dorne to aid in her healing. Aegon seemed inclined to agree and eventually the Queen Dowager and Princess made the uneasy journey to Dorne via ship, leaving the two brothers as the sole Targaryens in the city.

Eventually the stress gave way to normalacy and normalcy to tedium. There were still whispers of Blackfyres in the East, but it was such a distant problem that most agreed it wasn’t worth worrying about. Aegon instead saw fit to enjoy the current era of peace and announced that he would travel the Kingdoms to better know his realm, something that mildly frustrated Jon who would be left to manage affairs in the Capitol.

So it was, Jon found himself in his solar, drinking wine and reading over reports that the Small Council had left him. It was late, during the hour of the Wolf, when his chamber door slipped open and Lady Cersei stood before him, predatory grin firmly in place as she sauntered over to him. Before he had even a moment to react she captured his mouth in a fierce kiss, teeth biting down on his lip enough to draw blood.

“It’s done,” she said with a mad gleam in her eye. “ You and I can be together,” she kissed him again, hands making fast work to open his tunic and to remove his breeches, “husband and wife,” she huffed, lifting her skirts to reveal a gloriously mound with a neatly trimmed patch of gold, “King and Queen.”

As ever, Jon was too entranced by Cersei’s passions to make sense of her words and it was all he could do but to groan in surprise as the Lioness lowered herself over his cock and began to ride it like a stallion. He reached over and pulled down the front of her dress so that he might have access to her tits and went to work sucking them to hardness, his tongue circling their pert points.

Cersei moaned gently and then laughed, “Do they seem bigger?” She breathed as she rose and fell on his cock, “They should, they’re filling with milk for our child.”

That was enough to pull his mind to sobriety. He leant back in surprise and stared at Cersei in open shock. “ Child?”

“Oh yes,” she moaned, slowing her movements to a gentle grind, taking his hand and placing it over her stomach, “do you feel that? You put it there, back at Casterly Rock,” she squeezed herself around him fiercely, drawing a gasp, “it’ll be our heir...our crown prince.”

Jon’s mind reeled as the enormity of his situation struck him. He had been betrothed to Myrcella, the two families had agreed that he would marry Myrcella...and yet he had already shamed her by putting a child within her own mother. Lord Tywin would not forget the slight and there was a real chance that this would lead to war. Whatever lust remained was smothered by panic and he tried to remove the woman from his lap, only for her to violently shove him back down.

“How many times must I tell you,” she grinned, her roaming hands digging deep into his shoulders with enough **** to draw blood. “I have taken care of everything, you needn’t worry in the slightest.”

Jon swallowed uneasily. “But...your father, there is no way-”

“-my father is no longer a concern!” Cersei hissed, her beautiful face twisting into a mask of rage. She slammed her hips down on him that, throwing full **** into her fucking, “all you need to do...is fuck me until I can’t walk straight.”

They continued on with their violent lovemaking for a little while longer until Jon finally found release with the mad woman riding his cock. She smirked at once again, lifted herself off him, and then smoothed out her clothes before leaving him.

He barely slept that night, half expecting to wake to a collection of Lannister blades at his throat. When he did finally wake however, it was not for fear of his life. A page had been sent to his chambers and hurriedly told him that there had been a terrible accident and that he must come quickly. Wasting little time, Jon dressed himself and followed the man down towards the crowd of worried people in the gardens. The other members of the Small Council shook their heads in disbelief and there was the sound of terrible sobbing.

Sitting at one of the breakfast tables was the purple corpse of Tywin Lannister, face buried in the half-eaten pie before him.

“Poor man,” muttered one of the onlookers, “he must have choked on the pie...”

Cersei was there, red faced and sobbing uncontrollably. When she spotted Jon she threw her arms around him and cried into his shoulder while all he could do was rub her back comfortingly and try to give her what endearments he could think of. But then he felt her voice whispering against him. “We’re almost there, My King...”