If you Like this story! Check out my other stories! Shadow Monarch in DC
&
If you wish to read more or simply support me than check out my patreon at
"https://www.patreon.com/FrenzyAren"
You can Get Access to 3 More Chapters OR 7 More Chapters if you want !
/-\
TWO WEEKS LATER - DRAGONSTONE
The wind off the Narrow Sea was sharp and alive that morning, sweeping across Dragonstone's black cliffs and carrying with it the rumble of dragons. High above the ancient fortress, four great shapes wheeled in the skies Drogon's black wings cutting through the clouds beside Rhaega and Viserion, and among them all, the Cannibal vast, monstrous, shadow-black, his scales like shards of night itself. The sky trembled beneath their flight.
Below, in the courtyard before the great steps of Dragonstone, hundreds had gathered. Lords, knights from every corner of Westeros the Starks of Winterfell, the Arryns of the Vale, the Martells of Dorne, the Tyrells of the Reach, even the Lannisters of the Westerlands. the Ironborn as well stood at the far edges of the crowd, silent for once. Never before had the Seven Kingdoms seen so many houses under one sky, not for war, but for something far greater.
The coronation of the King and Queen.
At the forefront stood Jon Snow, beside him Robb Stark and Sansa, Arya watching with narrowed, curious eyes. Behind them, the banners of the House Stark fluttered proudly the direwolf of Winterfell now flying beside the dragon of House Targaryen and the black sigil of the Shadow Monarch.
The atmosphere was almost sacred. Every sound seemed distant but the roar of dragons and the voice of one man, Tyrion Lannister.
He stood upon the steps, his fine doublet glinting faintly under the sun. His usual humor was gone; his tone was steady, solemn, and strong.
"Lords and Ladies of Westeros," he began, his voice echoing across the courtyard, "we gather today not in mourning for the ashes of what was, but in awe of what has risen from them. You have fought, bled, and suffered through winters, wars, and endless games for thrones that broke more men than they crowned."
He glanced toward Aeron and Daenerys, who stood side by side at the top of the steps. Aeron in his dark shadow armor, gleaming faintly violet in the sunlight, the mark of the Shadow Monarch etched into his chestplate. Daenerys stood beside him in silver and white, her hair glimmering like molten light, her presence serene.
"But now," Tyrion continued, "for the first time in a thousand years, there stands a King who united the living against the cold and defeated death itself with a greater force of death. A man who faced the darkness beyond the Wall and returned to bring light to the realm."
He raised a goblet. "Aeron Grim, the Shadow Monarch, first of his name, protector of the realm, slayer of the dead, the one who ended the Long Night before it began."
The crowd erupted in cheers thunderous, shaking the very stones beneath their feet. The dragons above roared in answer, the sky itself trembling in approval.
Tyrion turned to Daenerys, his eyes softer now. "And beside him," he said, "Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the Breaker of Chains, the Mother of Dragons, the Queen who freed the world's slaves and gave mercy where others gave fire. Together, they have forged a new age of strength, of unity, of hope and prosperity."
When the cheers finally quieted, Aeron stepped forward. The air itself seemed to bend around him, heavy with power.
There was no septon. No sermon. No pomp of tradition.
Instead, Aeron reached out toward the ancient crown of Aegon the Conqueror, a gift from Dany, the Valyrian steel and red rubies catching the morning light. He looked at it for a brief moment, the reflection of fire and shadow dancing across his violet eyes. Then, slowly, deliberately, he placed it upon his own head.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. A king crowning himself such defiance of tradition was unheard of. Yet none could deny the right. He had earned it not by birth or claim, but by sheer might and will.
Then, Aeron turned to Daenerys. In his hands, he held a second crown wrought in silver and obsidian, its centerpiece a violet gem that glowed faintly. He lowered it gently onto her head, his fingers lingering a moment on her hair as their eyes met.
The dragons roared again, their cries shaking the heavens.
Daenerys smiled faintly, her eyes glistening. Aeron's hand found hers, and for that moment, king and queen stood together shadow and flame, conqueror and liberator as the new rulers of Westeros.
All around, the nobles bowed their heads. Even the proudest of them, Olenna Tyrell, Oberyn Martell, Edmure Tully and many more each bent the knee in silent acknowledgment.
Robb Stark exhaled quietly beside Jon, a faint smile crossing his lips. "Never thought I'd see the day," he said, his voice rough but touched with respect. "The man that came from Bear Island, now king of all Westeros."
Jon's lips curved faintly. "He earned it," Jon said quietly. "No one else could've done what he did."
Robb nodded. "Aye."
Jon's eyes stayed on Aeron, the authority that needed no words. "I just thank the gods that he's on our side."
Aeron stepped forward to the edge of the steps, His voice carried effortlessly not loud, but resonant, commanding attention even amidst the roar of dragons.
"The wars are done," he said. "The dead are gone. The living remain. And so long as I draw breath, no darkness shall rise against this realm again."
The wind rose, his cloak fluttering behind him like wings of shadow.
"Together with your queen, we shall rebuild what was lost. We shall make this realm strong not through fear, but through strength and unity. That is my word as your king."
The courtyard thundered once more with applause and shouts chants of "Long live the King! Long live the Queen!"
Above, the Cannibal let out a thunderous roar, the other dragons joining in unison a chorus of fire and shadow that echoed across the skies of Dragonstone, and far beyond, across the realms of men.
Daenerys looked at Aeron, pride and warmth softening her gaze. Aeron only gave her a faint smile.
And beneath the open sky, Westeros bore witness to the dawn of a new reign the Age of Dragons and Shadows.
****
The celebration thundered through the halls behind them, laughter, music, the clatter of cups, and the roaring cheers of lords deep in their cups. Yet above that revelry, upon a quiet balcony of dark stone, far from the flickering torches and music, stood the King and Queen of Westeros.
Daenerys rested her hands on the stone railing, her silver hair moving faintly in the wind. Her cheeks were still touched with the warmth of wine, her eyes soft with that rare, unguarded peace. She looked out toward the horizon and let a small laugh escape her.
"Some way to spit on traditions," she said, shaking her head slightly.
Aeron, standing beside her, turned his gaze toward her. The moonlight brushed his features, glinting faintly in his dark hair and the thin violet shimmer of his eyes. He smirked faintly.
"The Faith of the Seven," he said, his tone calm, reflective. "I'm not going to follow something that tried to kill me."
Daenerys turned her head toward him, her smile growing. There was amusement there and perhaps a trace of pride.
"You crowned yourself before the lords of the realm," she said softly. "most looked as though they have swallowed their tongues."
Aeron chuckled under his breath. "And yet, none dared speak against it." He leaned on the railing beside her, his voice lowering. "Don't you worry, my queen. I'm not going to be some tyrant."
She looked at him more seriously now that word tyrant lingered in her mind like a ghost of the past. Her lips parted, but before she could speak, he went on.
"Nor will I ever force our people to worship me as some sort of a new god," Aeron said, his tone steady but laced with conviction. "The world's had enough of men who believed themselves divine."
The sea wind swept past them, tugging at his cloak, at her pale hair. Daenerys' eyes softened, and she turned fully toward him.
"Then what will you do?" she asked quietly. "What kind of king will you be?"
Aeron was silent for a moment, watching the waves crash far below. His gaze was distant thoughtful, as though seeing beyond the sea itself.
"The kind who changes what must be changed," he said at last.
/-\
If you Like this story! Check out my other stories! Shadow Monarch in DC
&
If you wish to read more or simply support me than check out my patreon at
"https://www.patreon.com/FrenzyAren"