Chapter 214: The Coronation
"It's different from the Long Night that struck Westeros," Marwyn explained.
"There was no endless winter."
"Only endless darkness."
After hearing Marwyn's account, Drogon became even more convinced.
Whether or not the Night King's remains were connected to the Black Stone, one thing was certain:
The Black Stone was no ordinary material.
Something about it was fundamentally wrong.
Ancient.
Dangerous.
Perhaps even alive in some incomprehensible way.
Drogon wrote another question.
[How much do you know about the Deep Ones?]
The mysterious race had appeared too many times in connection with the Black Stone for him to ignore.
He wanted answers.
Marwyn shook his head.
"The existence of the Deep Ones has never been proven."
"They remain little more than a theory proposed by certain scholars of the Citadel."
"As for concrete evidence..."
"I know very little."
The answer left Drogon disappointed.
Despite Marwyn's vast knowledge, even he could offer no meaningful insight into the creatures.
The mystery remained unsolved.
For now.
Three days later, King's Landing was buzzing with excitement.
Daenerys Targaryen's coronation was approaching.
Every corner of the city was being decorated.
Nobles, merchants, and commoners alike prepared for the historic occasion.
The first Targaryen monarch in generations was about to be crowned.
Before the ceremony, Drogon made one final journey.
He flew south once more to Oldtown.
His destination was the Citadel.
Or more specifically—
Shireen Baratheon.
As promised, he had come to bring her to King's Landing.
After weeks of treatment, her condition had improved dramatically.
And there was no way he would allow her to miss Daenerys's coronation.
Not after everything she had endured.
With a delighted Shireen riding safely alongside him, Drogon took to the skies once again.
Together, they headed for King's Landing.
…
Within ten days, every lord and noble house across Westeros had declared fealty to Daenerys.
Not a single exception remained.
Inside the throne room, Daenerys finished assigning duties and announced the end of the council meeting.
Yet Tyrion and the others made no move to leave.
Stepping down from the Iron Throne, Daenerys noticed everyone lingering in place. She glanced toward Tyrion, silently asking what was still left to discuss.
Tyrion bowed slightly.
"Your Grace, with the coronation approaching, I ask that you pardon Jorah."
"Your Grace, please release Jorah."
Varys, Grey Worm, Daario, and the others immediately echoed the plea.
Only then did Daenerys understand why they had remained behind.
After several days in the dungeons, most of her anger had already faded.
She had originally planned to free Jorah after the coronation.
But now, hearing everyone plead on his behalf, she suddenly realized something.
If Jorah could not witness her coronation, it would be a regret not only for him—but for her as well.
Ten days in a cell was punishment enough.
Turning to Grey Worm, she said,
"Grey Worm, release Jorah."
A collective sigh of relief spread through the room.
According to Westerosi tradition, a new monarch was crowned in the Great Sept of Baelor by the High Septon.
That, however, would not be happening this time.
The ceremony would instead take place inside the throne room of the Red Keep.
The magnificently decorated hall was filled to capacity.
Lords from all Seven Kingdoms were present.
Nearly every major noble family from King's Landing and the surrounding regions had arrived to witness history.
Upon the Iron Throne sat Daenerys Targaryen, dressed in an exquisite white ceremonial gown.
Perched proudly on her shoulder was Drogon.
His golden eyes swept across the assembled nobles and guests.
Every lord paramount was present.
Drogon even spotted Prince Doran, supported by Oberyn as he entered the hall.
Nearby stood a now-grown Robin Arryn.
Farther back were Jon Snow, representing the Night's Watch, Robb Stark, and Bran Stark seated in his wheelchair.
Drogon's gaze passed over the three Stark brothers.
Just as he was about to look elsewhere, he noticed something strange.
Bran was staring intently.
Not at him.
At Daenerys.
The emotion in Bran's eyes caught Drogon's attention.
Excitement.
A rare and intense excitement.
So focused was Bran that he didn't even notice Drogon watching him.
Dany's sitting on the Iron Throne. Why is he so worked up?
Drogon frowned.
Then he noticed another emotion hidden beneath the excitement.
Resentment.
Reluctance.
Unwillingness.
His eyes drifted toward Jon.
A realization struck him immediately.
So that's it...
Bran had probably discovered Jon's true parentage.
At that moment Bran finally noticed Drogon's gaze.
Startled, he quickly looked away.
Drogon paid him no further attention and shifted his focus to Jon.
He was busy observing the throne room and its distinguished guests with open curiosity.
No sign of inner turmoil.
No sign of revelation.
Clearly, Jon still knew nothing.
Drogon found it odd.
If Bran already knew the truth, why hadn't he told Jon?
Instead, he sat there staring at Daenerys, lost in his own thoughts.
Whatever Bran was planning, it no longer mattered.
There was no longer any realistic way for Jon's claim to threaten Daenerys's rule.
Once all guests had arrived, Missandei stepped forward.
Dressed in a striking black high-collared gown, she carried herself with remarkable poise.
Her voice rang throughout the hall.
"Before you sits Daenerys Targaryen, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men; Queen of Meereen; Queen of the Dothraki Sea; Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."
She paused.
"And now, we invite Lord Drogon, the Dragon God, to crown Her Grace."
The hall immediately erupted into whispers.
No one had expected Daenerys to have her dragon perform the coronation.
Even more shocking was Missandei's title.
Dragon God.
Many nobles exchanged bewildered glances.
Only a handful who knew fragments of the truth seemed to understand.
Ignoring the murmurs, Missandei retrieved a black velvet tray from a nearby table.
Resting upon it was the famed three-headed dragon crown gifted to Daenerys by the royal family of Qarth.
Drogon took flight.
Lifting the crown carefully in his foreclaws, he glided before Daenerys.
For a brief moment, he looked across the assembled guests.
Then, with deliberate precision, he placed the crown upon her head.
After returning to his perch behind the throne, Drogon saw that many guests were still frozen in disbelief.
He opened his jaws and unleashed a thunderous roar.
At the same time, he released the full force of his divine presence.
The hall fell silent.
An overwhelming pressure descended upon every soul present.
It was not mere dragon fear.
It reached deeper.
Into the spirit itself.
Many nobles suddenly felt an irresistible urge to kneel and worship.
Only then did they truly understand why Missandei had called him a god.
The rumors surrounding the battle that had decided the fate of the Iron Throne suddenly seemed far more believable.
One by one, the assembled lords dropped to their knees.
Even Prince Doran struggled painfully from his seat before lowering himself to the floor.
Only Bran remained seated.
Yet his condition was far worse.
As a greenseer, his sensitivity to supernatural forces far exceeded that of ordinary men.
His entire body trembled.
His teeth clenched so hard they hurt.
Every ounce of his will was focused on resisting the urge to prostrate himself.
Watching Drogon return to her shoulder, Daenerys smiled.
She gently stroked his back.
Then she raised a hand, allowing the kneeling nobles to rise.
Satisfied with their reaction, she began the next part of the ceremony.
First, she honored the defenders of the Wall.
Their sacrifices during the war against the dead would never be forgotten.
She paid special tribute to Stannis Baratheon, whose actions had played a vital role in that struggle.
In recognition of his service, Storm's End would remain in House Baratheon's possession.
His daughter, Shireen Baratheon, would inherit the title.
She became the youngest ruling Lady in Westeros.
Tormund Giantsbane, leader of the Free Folk, was granted the title of Lord of the Dreadfort.
The former Bolton lands would be used to settle Free Folk who had crossed south of the Wall.
The Night's Watch would continue guarding the Wall until all traces of the White Walkers had been confirmed eradicated.
After consulting Jhaqo and the other khals, Harrenhal was granted to the Dothraki.
Any Dothraki who wished to settle permanently in Westeros would be welcome there.
Many had already decided they preferred the rich lands of Westeros to life upon the Great Grass Sea.
Casterly Rock naturally went to Tyrion Lannister.
At long last, the Imp received both his ancestral home and the title of Warden that came with it.
Missandei and Grey Worm declined all offers of lands and noble titles.
Unable to persuade them otherwise, Daenerys rewarded them instead with great sums of gold dragons.
And so, before the assembled lords of Westeros, the reign of Queen Daenerys Targaryen officially began.