Playing the Game (Game of Thrones)

A/N: This is the end of Playing the Game, everyone! It might feel a bit rushed. That's because I originally wrote this story from June of 2019 to January of 2023 and I was ready for it to be done, so here we are.

That said, if you've enjoyed reading this story and want to hop on board my next story right at the moment of its conception, please check out The Soul Engine for me! It just started and I'm really excited for it~

-x-X-x-

He refuses to accept that he’s lost her. He refuses to believe that there’s not enough left of Arya to be worth saving. Even if the slimmest fraction of his baby sister remained, she would be worth saving.
 
Letting out an explosive breath, Jon steps forward and grabs the sides of Arya’s face. As before, the Fractured Goddess doesn’t react, not to fight back nor to defend herself. She simply stands there expectant and waiting for whatever he decides to do. Looking into those black eyes, Jon’s lips thin out into a line.
 
“… Do you trust me?”
 
Those pools of blackness do not blink, even as he feels a slight undercurrent of confusion from the Fractured Goddess.
 
“We do not understand. We are powerless, trust is not a factor here.”
 
Jon just shakes his head and stares her down.
 
“Do you trust me, Arya?”
 
There’s a flicker across Arya’s face, and then her lips curl into a smile that’s all her. No trace of the Fractured Goddess can be seen in that smile. It’s a smile that Jon saw a million times when they were both so much younger and not nearly as heavily weighed down by the weight of their respective experiences. It’s a smile Jon would honestly have given anything to see again, and here he is now, getting it for free.
 
When Arya speaks, there is no ephemeral quality to her words. It’s only for a moment, but in that moment she sounds completely clear… completely Arya.
 
“Always, Jon.”
 
That’s all he needs to hear. This would either work or it wouldn’t, in the end. He would either save Arya, or he would kill her. But there was no other choice. Or rather, the other choice was guaranteed death, rather than a slim, slim chance of righting this wrong. Knowing that, how could he not give it a go? Splaying his fingers along her skull, his thumbs pressing into her temple, Jon lets out a slow sigh… and begins to push.
 
-x-X-x-
 
The sounds of children laughing and playing draw Jon out onto the balcony and he can’t help smiling as he looks down to see nearly a dozen of his brood, almost every single one from different mothers, all racing about and getting along with one another. It’s a beautiful sight to be sure. The sun is shining overhead, and everyone is wearing smiles.
 
They’ve left King’s Landing behind. The place isn’t salvageable, not even by someone of Jon’s power. Sure, he could have tried… but it was better to just write the whole thing off and start over. He neither wanted nor needed to sit upon the Iron Throne to make his subjects listen to him. For the first time in history, it wasn’t that damn throne that anyone worshipped, nor the Seven in the Great Sept of Baelor. It was him and him alone.
 
As such, Jon felt rather entitled to making some massive changes. Like reorienting the center of his new Empire away from King’s Landing. Admittedly, he was still biased to Westeros a fair amount, even after all the time he’d spent in Essos. That was why he’d decided to set his Capital at Harrenhal. Not that it would be known as that for much longer.

With the forces at Jon’s disposal, the ancient and utterly massive unfinished castle’s completion became a matter of time rather than resources. Harrenhal would be complete at long last, and once it was, it would be the new jewel of the Seven Kingdoms. More than that though, it would be the Seat of Westeros’ new Dragon King.
 
Was it any wonder then, that Jon had already decided to rename the place to Dragon’s Perch? From Dragon’s Perch he would rule all of Westeros and all of the land he’d conquered in Essos as well. And… he would finally be able to turn his eyes towards the remaining so-called Free Cities of Essos. There were plenty of them still, plenty who still practiced slavery. They unknowingly spit in the face of a God of Freedom… but they would know their folly soon enough. Oh yes they would.
 
Likewise, Braavos would soon know the rewards of supporting him from damn near the very beginning. Not just supporting him, but outright setting him on this path to begin with. All those years ago, quasi-exiled from his homeland, Jon hadn’t understood a thing. Part of that could be blamed on the late Lord Stark, but he’d made his peace with the memory of his father-turned-uncle. Ned was only doing what he thought was right, in the end. And he damn near lost everything for it as a result.
 
It was the Iron Bank in Braavos that had opened his eyes to the truth. And sure, Jon was well aware that they’d done so for their own purposes. He would still see them rewarded. Besides, better a bunch of cutthroat bankers and a city that abhorred slavery then a bunch of slaving merchants propping up an awful system.
 
Jon would-
 
“Beloved… are you even watching the children any longer? Or are you thinking about the future again?”
 
“Please, come back inside my King.”
 
Jon can’t help but smile in fond amusement as Daenerys and Bellegere appear at his sides and grasp his arms, tugging him back into the bedroom. It would appear they are at long last ready for him. To be fair, he was indeed still watching the children… God that he was, he had been multitasking so to speak. Was that such a crime?

 
Still, he lets them pull him over to the bed. He even lets his Queen and Consort strip him naked, the two of them helping him out of his clothes as he stands there… looking at the room’s final occupant.
 
Blushing profusely, Arya Stark, youngest daughter to Eddard and Catelyn Stark, lays back and spreads her legs apart, showing off her naked, nubile body. She has more scars than Jon would have ever preferred she have, but she won’t let him heal them… at least not all of them. They compromised and he removed the egregious ones, but she kept the rest, considering them and the experiences she gained from them as much a part of her as everything else that had happened.
 
There had been a lot of compromising, where Arya Stark and the Fractured Goddess were concerned. Even now, Arya was not the Arya he’d known. But… she was more Arya then she was Maiden, Matron, or Crone. As evident by her eyes. Back in King’s Landing, her eyes had been black pits of darkness. Now? As she gazes at him and he gazes at her, Arya’s eyes are shining gold.
 
Climbing onto the bed at the silent beseeching of Daenerys and Bellegere, their hands all over his body including stroking his cock to full hardness, Jon moves into position between Arya’s legs. Her golden eyes flit down to where they’re going to be joined and an honest, eager smile alights upon her features as Daenerys and Bellegere guide his member down and in.
 
Jon lets out a low sigh, even as he fills Arya’s cunt. He grunts, while she groans. Her tight pussy walls stretch and stretch for him, her compact body leaving it a very confined feeling. But not a bad confined. In fact, it’s quite a pleasurable experience.
 
… He’d effectively made Arya a demigoddess. Giving up some of his own divine power in the process, Jon had helped to fill back in some of her missing parts with his memories of her. It would have been better and a lot easier if he’d had a snapshot of her soul, but alas all he could really go off of was his mortal memories.
 
Luckily for him, the Fractured Goddess, the feminine half of the Seven… was not ill-disposed to him. Admittedly, Jon could never have saved Arya without her help. SHE had more information for him, having been with Arya when he was not. She’d been able to help him… even as it meant the Goddess lost parts of herself in the process.
 
It was a flat out swap, in the end. Before, Arya’s symbiosis with the Maiden, Matron, and Crone had been entirely lopsided in the Fractured Goddess’ favor. They were three parts of a divine being after all, and Arya was… she was only one mortal girl. But afterwards, with Jon’s interference and the Fractured Goddess’ submission, he had been able to make Arya the dominant one in the relationship. The Maiden, Matron, and Crone were still there, whispers of advice in Arya’s ears, but it was Arya who was in control now. It was she who was in the rider’s saddle.
 
And it was she who Jon made love to now, filling her with his cock and leaning down to bring his mouth to her chest. Arya cries out as he slides in and out of her, arching her back up into his mouth and throwing her head back. All the while, Daenerys and Bellegere are far from idle. The two run their hands across Jon’s body and Arya’s alike. Bellegere even leans down to give the younger woman a long, lingering kiss.
 
When the Black Pearl is finished making out with her, she pulls back… and slides a hand through Jon’s hair, guiding him up to Arya’s lips. The two of them meet there, entangled in one another. And not just physically either. Even as their hands find one another, even as they intertwine their fingers, Jon is reaching out with his divinity. Arya does the same in turn.
 
She is far from a full Goddess just yet. Demigoddess really is the better answer. In way, she’s his daughter just as much as she’s his sister or cousin. At the same time… she’s none of those things. Certainly, if it doesn’t get her what she wants, she’s made it clear she’s happy to disown any familial connection in order to be with him.
 
It had been Daenerys who had laughed and explained to Arya how Targaryens did things… and how, having a piece of Jon’s divinity inside of her easily made Arya a Targaryen in Daenerys’ book.
 
It was all perfectly copacetic in the end. Jon would be a hypocrite to have copulated with Sansa but not Arya. His littlest sister was all grown up now, and far from the child he’d once known. Planting himself deep inside of her, enjoying how she orgasms around his cock, Jon lets out a breath… and lets himself go. He fills Arya with his seed and essence, all while what divinity she still has wraps around his much greater ‘body’. They comingle with one another, even as he fills her womb.
 
There’s not a doubt in either of their minds that he’s gotten her pregnant. But then to be fair… Jon has never failed to get a woman he’s laid with pregnant, has he? God of Dragons and Freedom… and Breeding as well, perhaps.
 
Grinning at the silly thought, Jon finally ends the lip lock with Arya, gazing down into her golden glowing eyes. Then, his head is turned as Daenerys kisses him, demanding his attention. On the other side of him, Bellegere dips down and begins cleaning his cock with her mouth as it comes out of Arya’s sex. His Queen and Consort certainly have no intention of letting Jon lapse on his duties in the bedroom. That’s for sure.
 
That’s okay though. Jon loves them all the more for it… and knows quite well he’ll need them in the future to keep him honest.
 
-x-X-x-
 
A couple decades later, Jon watches from the audience as his firstborn daughter by Jeyne Poole and his first son by his Queen, Daenerys Targaryen, are married to one another. There’s a broad smile on the Dragon King’s face as the ceremony proceeds. The two young people look positively incandescent to be sure, and Jon is glad to know that their love is true in spite of the slight age gap.
 
It was one of the many decrees he’d made sure of, in the end. He had many, many children. He refused to let any of them marry for anything less than love. Political marriages, arranged marriages… marriages without choice, without consent… they were little more than slavery in the eyes of a God of Freedom. If the two people most involved were not given an option, then it was forced and that was just plain wrong.
 
Some of his children had still paired up of course, like the two who were getting married today. It was the Targaryen way after all and having been raised around him and Daenerys and his many other wives as well as each other, it was almost inevitable that some in his massive brood would fall in love. Jon was happy to encourage their affections for one another.
 
Just as he was happy to encourage those who sought love matches outside of the family tree, so to speak. Jon wasn’t going to begrudge his daughters and sons who found significant others in different places besides their own household, that was for sure. Though he did vet each and every one of them… and found some to be very wanting indeed.
 
He would never let anyone use or abuse his family. Not in a million years. Though, just as he’d made sure that none of his sons or daughters were being taken in by a con artist or a grifter, he’d also made sure to remove the Targaryen Madness from every last one of his children, and he would likely continue to do so with his grandchildren and great-grandchildren, and so on and so forth.
 
Once upon a time, the Targaryens had seemingly had no other choice but to intermarry in order to keep their control over dragons intact. But this in turn had given way to the Madness that had nearly destroyed them in the end. Daenerys’ father being the last and perhaps greatest example of that in fact.
 
Jon wouldn’t let it happen again. Now, House Targaryen had not just a King at its head but a God. And so he would make sure that anyone and everyone who was born into his family was Free of Madness. It was only right in the end.
 
-x-X-x-
 
A hundred years later, and Jon sits upon his throne in Dragon’s Perch, a smile on his face as he observes his children and grandchildren taking turns dealing with supplicants who have come quite a long way to beg for his family’s assistance.
 
He still rules as King of Westeros, of course. He also rules as Dragon-Emperor of Essos. Slavery could not be abided… and so Jon had not abided it. The rest of Essos had fallen to his armies, and slavery had been fully outlawed. These days, he split his time near-equally between Dragon’s Perch and renewing the destroyed lands of Old Valyria. The Doom had been quite the miasma over the peninsula, but with the worship of millions of freed slaves fueling Jon’s power, he was making great progress in restoring Valyria to… not quite its former glory, but something entirely new instead.

After all, slavery was something the so-called Valyrian Freehold had practiced as well.
 
On a more personal note, he had extended the lives of all of his family. A member of House Targaryen had not died on the continent of Westeros in the past century. If they left his purview and went adventuring Jon could no longer guarantee their safety, but so long as they remained on the continent, he was able to keep them from fatal injury, all while extending their lifespans and holding back sickness.
 
He was almost ready to begin leading some of them like Daenerys and Bellegere onto the path of divinity. Arya had already managed to ascend on her own, becoming a Goddess in truth. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised… she was a foot in the door already.
 
Finally, Jon had gone ahead and used his divinity to propagate dragons… and the freedom that was dragon riding. For hundreds of years, Targaryens and those with Targaryen blood had been the only ones who could hope to ride dragons. Everyone else was shit out of luck.
 
But when you were a God, you did not need dragons to maintain your power. House Targaryen’s power was based in divinity itself now, not the dragons that they rode. And so Jon, in the interest of making sure dragons never died out ever again… had done something perhaps a little inadvisable. He had changed the way dragons worked. He had fundamentally altered them so that any who came into the world from this point on would be tamable by ANY mortal man or woman, not just those with Targaryen or Old Valyrian blood.
 
There were hundreds of dragons of differing ages now, all across Westeros and Essos. And he suspected there would be thousands more in the years to come.
 
-x-X-x-
 
Approximately five centuries have come and gone. The world looks vastly different from what it did in his youth. But then, so does Jon. He’s long since left his mortal body behind, as have the women he fell in love with along the course of his mortal lifespan. In the end, he ruled for almost two hundred years before ascending.
 
He could have continued on forever as he was, Jon had ultimately realized. Due to what Balerion and Meraxes had done when they’d flung their divinity into the future to nest within him, Jon’s body was uniquely suited for holding within it all the divine power that he accumulated, no matter how strong he inevitably got.
 
And he DID get strong. With the proper changes to the fabric of society and his careful stewardship for all those years, Jon had caused something of a population boom on both Westeros and Essos. And all of those new human beings were raised by their parents to give thanks to one deity and one deity only… the Dragon King and God of Freedom, Jon himself. The more people had come to populate his lands, the more powerful Jon had gotten, until he eclipsed all contemporaries.
 
In the end, the real reason that he left behind his mortal form and became a fully ascended God was because his wives could no longer maintain their existences at his sides. Helping Daenerys, Bellegere, and all the others who wanted it to ascend to godhood had ultimately been very easy once he figured it out with Arya’s help. However, at a certain point their mortal bodies just weren’t made to withstand the pressure like his was, and their mortality began to fail them.
 
Arya was the first to ascend. Her departure was the wake up call Jon needed. And so, one summer day, he and all of his women, as well as those of their children that were ready, had ascended together.
 
It wasn’t too different, in the end. But at the same time, it was incredibly different. Jon was no longer the King that ruled from Dragon’s Perch. That man was consigned to the history books. However, as a God he would continue to reside within the hearts and minds of his people for all eternity. Along with the others, he ended up forming a Pantheon.
 
That was when the entity he’d labeled as ‘Lady Winter’ had come a-knocking. Their situation was much reserved as she’d come slinking into his newly formed Celestial Court… child at her side. His child. Their child. A daughter, of course. The Goddess of Winter, a nature Goddess, was no longer as strong or stronger than he was. Her power hadn’t declined either, for Winter still existed and was quite powerful to begin with. But Jon’s power had grown beyond imagining.
 
Still, he welcomed her and their divine daughter with open arms all the same, or at least the divine version of open arms. The Pantheon was formed, and they would continue to look over their children and people for quite a long time to come, of that Jon was certain.
 
-x-X-x-
 
Mortal ingenuity would never cease to amaze him. A thousand years had passed since he’d been born on the world that many scholars named ‘Planetos’ these days. As a divine being, as a God… Jon had honestly thought he’d seen it all. He and his Pantheon were the undisputed deities of Planetos by this point. All other Gods and Goddesses had either been absorbed into his Celestial Court or laid low and dispersed depending on their temperament.
 
Some deities were quite literally made of Evil. Born of it, basking in it, the only true option for dealing with them was to destroy them outright. But plenty of others were just fine and perfectly tolerable. Plenty were even appreciated for their contributions to his Court.
 
Together, they had shaped a world to their liking, a world where mortals could forge their own paths and chart their own futures. But never in a million years did Jon for a second think that this would be the future they would chart.
 
As the first ever ‘rocket’ launches from the planet’s upper atmosphere into space, Jon’s breath does a proverbial hitch, the divine entity almost wanting to reach out and pull it back to keep those on board safe. It doesn’t help that he has two direct descendants on board, a young man and woman rising off of the world and into the blackness of the great beyond.
 
But… he does not try and impede them. He is the God of Freedom after all, and what could be freer than this? Even if Jon’s divine awareness has spread across the entire surface of Planetos by this point, he has no clue what’s out there in space. For once, he only knows what the mortals have been able to discover with their newfound ‘sciences’. He can only speculate off of what they have written down and theorized.
 
The stars are just distant suns. And there are other worlds out there. Other worlds just like Planetos, waiting to be found and explored. Jon won’t lie… it terrifies him. The very idea scares him to his core. Not for himself, but for his people. For the mortals he has watched over for so damn long.
 
And yet… he cannot go against his nature. And so he watches as his descendants take to the stars. At his sides, reaching out to him and comingling his divine essence with theirs in a way vaguely reminiscent of holding hands, are Daenerys and Bellegere. Their own apprehension is the same as his, as all three of them take comfort in one another’s presence.
 
There’s no denying the apprehension… but alongside it there’s excitement as well. For the first time in a long time, confined as he is to Planetos itself, Jon doesn’t know what’s going to happen next. And quite frankly… he can’t wait to see what the future holds. Both for him and his Pantheon, as well as their adventurous and inquisitive descendants.

-x-X-x-

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