All of Pieces

Chapter - 9

 Daenerys sat upon the Iron Throne, looking out at all those assembled before her, as her hands rested beneath the swell of her stomach. It had taken nearly three moons to get everyone assembled, but Tyrion had succeeded in his duty to make sure that there was a representative from each of the Seven Kingdoms. All of the regions within the seven were represented, including the new Prince of Dorne. Gendry Baratheon, new Lord of Storm's end, served for the Stormlands. Talla Tarley, Lady of Horn Hill, served for the Reach. Edmure Tully, Lord of Riverrun, served for the Riverlands. Jaime Lannister, new Lord of Casterly Rock, served for the Westerlands. Robin Aryn, Lord of the Vale, came from the Eyrie. Yara Greyjoy, ever the ally of the Queen, served the Iron Islands. Both Sansa and Bran Stark had arrived from Winterfell, to serve for the North. Even Tormund Giantsbane had come from the far North, bringing Ghost with him. She was glad he came on Jon's insistence, as she knew he listened to his counsel and she wanted even the Freefolk to have their fair share of representation. She had given Jon's suggestion plenty of thought over the past few months, and was still so torn over what that freedom would have meant for them. She wanted nothing more than to run away with him as suggested, making their home with the Freefolk, but she had never run from a challenge and would not be doing so now. They would rule, as they were meant to.

Her silver hair was partially tied back by three braids on either side of her head before they jointed in one long, singular braid down the length of her back. The rest of her hair flowed long, and free. A crown made of dragon glass and rubies rested atop her head, the gems shining in the light. She had thought to have hers fashioned from dragon glass, as that was the very reason that had brought Jon to her. Her skin looked like milk against the black high necked fabric of her dress. The dress was gathered right underneath her chest with a belt of large rubies. Jon stood next to her, wearing black leathers and black boots; his cloak was a dark grey with a dark red lining. Longclaw, as always, was sheathed to his side. The Valyrian and ruby crown of Aegon the Conqueror, gifted to them from the new Prince of Dorne as it had been held at Sunspear since the death of Daeron Targaryen, was upon his head. Together they looked invincible, and a true testament to their royal lineage.

"Thank you for joining us, My lords and Ladies of the Seven Kingdoms". Daenerys kept her voice even, and in control. She would not betray her anxiety or nervousness to those before her.

Tyrion stood off to the side of the throne, a few steps down from the dais it rested upon, and looked up at her as she spoke. The past few months had shown him that he was wrong to doubt her, to doubt her abilities as a ruler, and so very wrong in that he had almost betrayed her. She made sure that the walls of King's Landing were rebuilt quickly due to the dangers the falling rubble had posed. She had personally gone down into the city itself, even to Flea Bottom against his wishes, with both King Jon and Davos. She had made quite the impression on the small folk, ordering that food be sent immediately from the Red Keep storehouses to feed the starving city after seeing their plight. She had even been working with the Dothraki women to weave blankets and clothing for several of the orphanages, after seeing the children with nothing but the rags on their backs. She had done all of this without complaint, without showing any strain, despite her condition and the cloudiness he still saw in her eyes at times. Jon had also taken on his own responsibilities, seeing to the recovering wounded from the battle, overseeing the building, and was working closely with Davos regarding the rehabilitation of Flea Bottom that the Queen had ordered. Oh how very wrong Varys was, he thought to himself.

"House Targaryen is grateful for your fealty, and we welcome it with open arms." Daenerys felt her babe move at the sound of her voice, a small grimace appearing on her face as a sharp movement caused discomfort. She was a fortnight away from being eight moons in her pregnancy, the maester sent by the citadel to having been in agreement with her Dothraki healer on how much time remained before the babe would come. She shifted her body, uncomfortable on the throne, hoping that the change in posture would make the child move into a more favorable position. "The King and I are both in agreement that Westeros needs change. The wheel that Aegon and his sisters built has rolled over too many people, both nobility and smallfolk alike. We do not wish to be more of the same."