Chapter 84 The Coronation Day and the Bloody Day
Blackwater Bay was as calm as ever. Listening to the continuous tolling of bells from King's Landing, Ser Steffon Darklyn coldly glanced at the Red Keep that was gradually fading into the distance. He carefully took off the package hanging from his shoulder, which contained a crown—the crown of King Viserys I Targaryen, a crown inlaid with seven different colored gemstones carved into the sigils of the great houses: a three-headed dragon, a stag, a direwolf, a lion, a rose, a trout, and a falcon.
"Traitors… you have defiled your vows and your white cloaks." Ser Steffon Darklyn silently watched the Red Keep disappear beyond the horizon. He continued to row his small boat together with his squire and the official guarding the crown, heading at full speed toward Dragonstone. "I will set things right, Your Grace." The white knight's gaze was firm as he looked toward the distant island barely visible on the sea.
The scene returned to King's Landing.
People stood blankly in the streets as the funeral bells tolled again and again. Riders clad in white galloped through every avenue of the capital, shouting loudly:
"King Viserys is dead! Long live King Aegon! Hail the True King!"
They passed through the noble districts filled with luxurious villas and rode past the filthy alleys of Flea Bottom alike.
"Long live King Aegon!" A merchant suddenly raised his arm and shouted. A few scattered voices echoed his cry, but far more people were weeping quietly.
Elderly men and women wiped tears from their eyes as they mourned the passing of King Viserys. Among the crowd, a one-armed old shepherd in ragged clothes stared coldly at the royal procession passing before him.
Aegon II Targaryen and Queen Helaena rode side by side in splendor. Four members of the Kingsguard surrounded them closely. The shepherd moved his lips as if praying, but no one nearby could hear his words.
A burly man asked in confusion to the person beside him, "Didn't the old king name Princess Rhaenyra, the Realm's Delight, as his heir? Then why—"
Before he could finish, scattered cries of "Long live the Queen!" rose from the crowd—but they were swiftly drowned out by a louder and more unified roar:
"Long live King Aegon!"
"Long live King Aegon!" A middle-aged man confidently explained, "His Grace must have corrected the succession before his passing. Tell me, would you leave your inheritance to your daughter? Naturally, King Aegon is the rightful ruler!"
More and more hesitant voices joined the chant.
"Long live King Aegon!"
Yet many others remained silent, their expressions complicated. Some well-dressed commoners watched for only a short while before quietly turning away from the crowd.
They had already made their decision.
To leave King's Landing.
Anywhere would be better—
As long as it was not here.
Hearing the endless cheers, Aegon's smile grew wider and wider. He even raised an eyebrow toward Helaena in an unusually playful manner. However, Helaena did not respond at all. Her gaze was vacant, as though she were lost in thoughts no one else could see.
The grand procession moved through the city and finally arrived at the Dragonpit atop the hill. The massive bronze gates slowly opened.
Thousands of carefully selected commoners, knights, and lords poured into the enormous hall like a surging tide.
Aegon II was already standing atop the high platform.
Prince Aemond stood beside Queen Alicent, his expression cold. Alicent herself maintained a solemn demeanor. Four Kingsguard knights stood guard below the platform.
Ser Criston Cole, wearing a golden chain of office—symbolizing his authority as Hand of the King and Lord Commander of the Kingsguard—slowly ascended the steps. In his hands, he held the Valyrian steel crown of Aegon the Conqueror, adorned with square-cut rubies.
Aegon II leaned upon the ancestral Valyrian steel sword Blackfyre and watched with a satisfied smile as the crown was placed upon his head.
Ser Criston's voice rang out across the hall:
"Hail Aegon of House Targaryen, Second of His Name! King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men! Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm!"
"Long live the King!"
The crowd erupted instantly:
"Long live King Aegon! Long live the True King!"
"Long live King Aegon! Long live the True King!"
"Long live the True King!" Aegon raised Blackfyre high above his head.
The cheers became deafening, reverberating throughout the Dragonpit and even overpowering the restless, dissatisfied roars of the dragons below.
Alicent finally revealed a faint smile. She removed her own crown and gently placed it upon Helaena's head before pressing a kiss to her daughter's cheek.
Then she knelt.
"My Queen."
"Mother… is this truly worth it?" Helaena whispered so softly that only Alicent could hear. "Is all of this worth it?"
Her empty gaze drifted across the hall—over Aegon's triumphant figure, over Criston Cole's satisfied expression, over the silent nobles, and finally toward Aemond's cold face.
Alicent forced a composed smile. "As long as we stand united, everything is worth it."
She turned her eyes toward Aemond.
Aemond gave a firm nod. "I will bring back good news."
With that, the one-eyed prince turned and swiftly exited through a side passage.
Moments later, thunderous dragon roars shook the Dragonpit.
Aegon smiled faintly. "My brother will secure our victory! Let the realm witness the might of their king!"
Criston nodded and gestured.
Ser Arryk Cargyll stepped forward to escort the king.
The dragonkeepers quickly unlocked the heavy chains binding Sunfyre.
The magnificent golden dragon let out a joyful roar upon seeing its rider. Its enormous head nudged gently against Aegon's chest.
Aegon embraced the dragon with visible excitement.
"From this day forward, you are the king's dragon."
Unable to suppress his exhilaration, he climbed swiftly into the saddle.
"Clear the way!"
Sunfyre roared, sprinted forward, spread its vast wings, and launched into the sky through the Dragonpit's great opening.
Its radiant golden scales gleamed brilliantly beneath the sunlight.
Sunfyre circled King's Landing three times.
For a brief moment, silence fell over the city.
Then—
The entire capital erupted.
This time, no dissenting voices remained.
Only one unified cry echoed across King's Landing:
"Long live the King!"
Above Blackwater Bay,
Ser Steffon Darklyn narrowed his eyes as he observed a green dragon streaking across the distant sky.
"Vhagar…"
He had no time to dwell further.
He had to reach Dragonstone as quickly as possible.
Sunfyre descended gracefully into the courtyard of the Red Keep.
The assembled nobles were already waiting.
Wearing the Conqueror's crown, Aegon II strode into the throne room with imposing confidence and slowly seated himself upon the Iron Throne.
Dragonstone. The Sea Dragon Tower.
Painful screams echoed through the air, audible even from afar.
Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, upon hearing of her father's death and the events unfolding in King's Landing, had fallen into a furious rage.
But she was in labor.
A premature birth.
Three days of relentless agony had pushed her to the brink of madness.
"Seven Hells! Alicent! You whore!" she screamed hysterically. "It wasn't enough that you took my father—you let your wretched son steal my birthright!"
"That throne was mine!"
Her voice turned wild and broken.
"Monster! Abomination! You are not my child! Get out—get out!"
She clawed at her own belly as blood spread across the stone floor.
Daemon Targaryen stood nearby, his expression cold and unreadable.
Lord Bartimos Celtigar stood before him, having rushed to Dragonstone without delay.
"The envoy went to Driftmark first instead of coming here?" Daemon asked icily.
"My prince… I—"
"Enough. Summon all who remain loyal."
Daemon tore the letter apart and cast it aside.
Outside, Caraxes descended slowly into the courtyard, its crimson wings casting a long shadow.
Ships bearing the silver seahorse of House Velaryon filled the harbor.
"My sons are still away…" Daemon muttered, his gaze turning toward the Sea Dragon Tower as Rhaenyra's screams continued. "I can only hope their allies remain true… and honor their oaths."
Dragonstone's allied city.
Jacaerys Velaryon stood beside Vermax, his expression tense and uneasy. The young dragon shifted restlessly, sensing its rider's emotions.
High above, Vermithor appeared in the sky—
And almost at the same moment—
Vhagar.
The ancient dragon roared loudly the instant she spotted Vermax in the distance.
But another roar answered her.
Deeper.
More powerful.
Vermithor descended, hovering steadily above Vhagar. Golden flames flickered within its jaws.
A young rider stood upon its back, gazing down coldly.
"I come as an envoy," Aemond called out, gripping the saddle as he steadied Vhagar beneath him.
His single eye burned with intensity.
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