When Viserys Targaryen returned to Dragonstone, holding the valyrian steel sword "Blackfyre," which possessed a dark luster, and cradling the two dragon eggs he had retrieved from the magma, which were still radiating heat, everyone was stunned.
Queen Rhaella was initially pacing slowly, supported by a maid, to alleviate the discomfort of her pregnancy. However, when she clearly saw what Viserys was holding, she stopped abruptly and swayed slightly. The nearby maid quickly steadied her.
The Queen's gaze was fixed intently on the two dragon eggs and the sword in Viserys's hand.
She had originally worried about Viserys going to Dragonmont, fearing he might start obsessing over illusory dreams, just like Rhaegar. "I didn't expect this to be real," she murmured, her voice barely audible. "The Gods above..."
Ashara Dayne was holding Rhaenys, playing with a rag doll by the fireplace. The little girl was the first to be drawn to the strange dragon eggs; she broke free from Ashara's embrace and ran on her short legs toward Viserys. Her large, violet eyes were full of curiosity. "Brother, what are these shiny stones? They're so warm."
Viserys squatted down and held one dragon egg in front of Rhaenys so she could feel the heat. "These are dragon eggs, Rhaenys, treasures of our family." He was still unsure if Rhaenys possessed the "Unburnt" talent, so he did not let her touch the eggs.
Ashara followed closely. She didn't look at the dragon eggs first; instead, she quickly scanned Viserys's entire body. Only after confirming he had no burn marks did she turn her shocked gaze toward the two dragon eggs, which seemed to contain fire, and the "Blackfyre," which radiated an ominous glow even when dormant.
Ser Jonothor Darry and Ser Willem Darry, who rushed over upon hearing the news, burst into the hall almost simultaneously. The two Darry Family men wore expressions that were surprisingly identical: dumbfounded.
Ser Jon's gaze shifted back and forth between the dragon eggs and "Blackfyre," finally resting on Viserys's face. The loyal old knight's lips moved, but he didn't know what to ask.
Ser Willem was more direct. He strode forward, staring intensely at the blade of "Blackfyre." His voice was filled with suppressed excitement: "The style and markings of this sword are indeed those of the legendary 'Blackfyre.' But wasn't 'Blackfyre' lost in Essos after the Blackfyre Rebellions?"
"Prophecy guided me," Viserys said. His voice was not loud, but it carried an undeniable power. "The blood of my ancestors whispered in my dreams, leading me to them. True Dragons do not fear fire, and the destiny of the Targaryen Family is far from over."
At this moment, Arthur Dayne stepped forward and recounted everything they had seen and heard on Dragonmont, especially the scene where Viserys reached into the magma with his bare hands to retrieve the dragon eggs, without any embellishment. He added no personal emotion, but this plain description made the event itself even more shocking.
After the account was finished, a deep silence fell over the hall, broken only by the crackling of wood burning in the fireplace and the faint sound of waves outside the window. All eyes focused on Viserys. The boy, barely seven years old, was no longer just a child in their eyes, but rather the vessel of some ancient legend, a witness to a miracle.
Suddenly, Ser Jonothor Darry dropped to one knee, lowering his gray head. "Your Highness," his voice was hoarse with emotion, "This is a revelation from the Seven Gods! It is a sign that the True Dragon has returned to his rightful place!"
Ser Willem Darry quickly followed suit, kneeling heavily. "The Dragonstone Fleet is willing to die in service of the Dragon bloodline!"
Arthur Dayne also slowly knelt. He looked up at Viserys, his eyes showing firm acknowledgement.
Ser Willem raised his head, his voice booming with undeniable resolve: "Your Highness, no, Your Majesty! King Aerys and Prince Rhaegar have perished. As the King's son, the sole surviving legitimate heir of the Targaryen Family, and the true source of the iron throne's legitimacy, we must declare your identity to the Seven Kingdoms. We ask you to be crowned King!"
"We ask Your Majesty to be crowned!" echoed the voices of Jonothor Darry and Arthur Dayne.
"We ask Your Majesty to be crowned!" More voices joined in. Initially somewhat chaotic, they quickly merged into a wave of sound that shook the castle. This cry was no longer just a request, but an oath, a declaration—a presentation of their loyalty to their King.
Viserys felt this surging passion. He took a deep breath, his gaze sweeping over every excited and devout face.
He knew that this coronation was not a futile attempt to immediately reclaim the iron throne, but rather for "legitimacy"—to raise a banner of righteousness for the nobles and commoners still in the Seven Kingdoms who were watching or whose hearts remained loyal to the Dragon Family.
Just as Robert Baratheon needed his one-eighth Targaryen bloodline to whitewash the "justification" of his usurpation, he, Viserys III, needed this "crown" to proclaim that the Targaryen line had not died out, that he was the true sovereign, that the one on the iron throne was a false king, and that the Dragon Fire would eventually reignite.
The coronation ceremony was quickly held at the Sept of the Seven Gods on Dragonstone. This sept was far less grand than the Great Sept of Baelor in King's Landing, nor did it possess the legitimacy of the Starry Sept in Oldtown. But at this moment, it carried the last dignity of the Targaryen Dynasty.
There was no High Septon, no complex ritual, just a few knights, nobles, fleet officers from Dragonstone, and all the important members within the castle. The air was filled with the salty smell of the sea, the smoke of candles, and a solemnity that was almost palpable.
Queen Rhaella forced herself to sit by the side. She looked at her young son, her eyes complex, holding pride, sorrow, and a hint of relief.
Ashara Dayne stood beside her, holding Rhaenys's hand. Her pale violet gaze was fixed intently on Viserys. Little Rhaenys seemed affected by the solemn atmosphere, quietly leaning next to Ashara, watching everything with wide eyes.
The Old Maester of Dragonstone presided over the simple ceremony. Because The Church had previously crowned Robert as the new King in King's Landing, these monks did not recognize Viserys's status and refused to crown him; even threats were useless, as they had been brainwashed by The Church.
However, he couldn't openly break with The Church yet. After all, besides the North, the other six kingdoms all believed in the Seven Gods, and he still needed the pretense of faith as a cover.
When the crown, temporarily crafted from dragon bone and obsidian, was shakily raised by the Maester, about to be placed upon Viserys's silver hair, the entire sept fell silent enough to hear a pin drop.
"In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave," the Maester's aged voice echoed in the sept.
"In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just."
"In the name of the Mother, I charge you to protect the innocent..."
The Seven Gods' prayers were recited one by one, and Viserys nodded slightly with each one. Finally, the Maester proclaimed loudly: "Viserys Targaryen III, all the nobles and knights present acknowledge you as Viserys III of the Targaryen Family, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm."
"Long live His Majesty the King!" Arthur Dayne was the first to shout, drawing "Dawn," its tip pointed directly at the sept's dome.
"Long live King Viserys III!"
"Long live the Targaryen Family!"
Cheers erupted in the small sept, as if trying to break through the stone walls and reach the ears of the Gods. Viserys turned around, facing his first—and currently only—group of subjects. He wore the crown, held "Blackfyre," and attendants respectfully held the two scorching dragon eggs at his side.
After the ceremony, dozens of ravens soared high from the Rookery on Dragonstone, carrying the proclamation of Viserys III's coronation, flying toward the major castles of the Seven Kingdoms. This was not a plea for assistance, but a declaration of the King's legitimacy.
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