Skagos Island, Griffin Keep.
Today, Griffin Keep was more lively than ever. After the grand Winter Festival, this was the second greatest celebration in the island's history — for tomorrow, Marco would hold his coronation ceremony.
Though he had already proclaimed himself Emperor of the Valyrian Empire, Marco did not intend to imitate Aegon I Targaryen, the Dragonlord Founder, who had casually let his sister place a crown upon his head and called it done.
No — Marco wanted a true coronation. A grand, majestic ceremony held entirely under his own control. He would not seek the blessing of the Faith of the Seven, nor let any priest dictate divine authority to him.
His goal was to establish an entirely new system of rule. Copying the old Targaryen model would be courting disaster. Their ending was proof enough — first the dragons were destroyed through treachery, then their bloodline perished, and finally their entire dynasty was reduced to ashes.
Marco rejected both the religious and feudal systems of the Seven Kingdoms. He would build a system of his own: in the future, the councils of his castles would be watched over by the Old Gods, the Children of the Forest would serve as priests of a new faith, and the armies would consist solely of System Soldiers — no longer raised or maintained by feudal lords.
In one of the keep's chambers, Jon Snow sat silently, grieving.
The small Ice Dragon that had recently hatched was lying lazily on his shoulder, yawning contentedly — clearly unaffected by its "father's" sorrow.
Since returning to Skagos Island, Jon had learned of Robb Stark and Lady Catelyn's deaths. It was now the third day he had locked himself in his room.
A shimmer of blue light flashed — and Lyanna Stark appeared before him. The sudden cold aura made the baby dragon shiver uncomfortably. It opened its eyes and stared at the ghostly figure, a trace of confusion flickering within its blood-red pupils.
With a flap of its wings, the Ice Dragon glided onto Ghost's back. Even the direwolf's thick white fur couldn't block the chill, and Ghost awoke with a low growl.
"Wuu…"
Ghost looked at his master, then sniffed at the dragon resting on his back, before lowering his head again with a soft whine. He could feel Jon's grief — and so, he shared in it.
Lyanna's face hardened as she gazed at her son's lifeless expression. Anger surged within her spectral heart. The cold around her thickened, spreading like frost on glass — the air itself seemed to freeze.
"Aegon Targaryen!" her voice cut through the silence like a blade. "Have you mourned enough?
House Stark does not need a man who only knows sorrow.
House Targaryen does not need a cowardly dragonrider.
What you should be doing now is seeking your king, not wallowing in grief! Whether it's the Freys or the Lannisters — will you let your rage rot here, or will you use it for vengeance?"
Her words struck straight into Jon's heart like a sword. His chest tightened painfully. He had been drowning in guilt ever since the Red Wedding, blaming himself for not being by Robb's side — for not preventing the doom that fell upon the North.
Jon leapt to his feet and bowed his head. "Mother! I'm sorry! It's my fault. I shouldn't have let myself fall like this. I'll go find His Majesty Marco… I'll never forget the vengeance owed to House Stark!"
At that moment, Marco sat calmly within the great hall on the third floor of the main keep.
After the fortress's recent upgrade, the hall had transformed into a vast and magnificent palace chamber — even grander than the parliamentary hall on the top floor.
The throne was carved from white stone and stood upon a two-tiered platform. Behind it were four beautifully crafted wooden seats — each prepared for his queens.
A deep violet carpet stretched from the throne to the lower steps, embroidered with gold thread into the pattern of Marco's sigil: the Holy Sun Crest. Its radiance shimmered with regal splendor.
Within the hall, Dany and Maeve were consulting with the Bloodstone Elder about the ceremonial arrangements, while Fanny and Nila directed their daughters and "sisters" in decorating the chamber.
Marco's four female guards stood nearby assisting, while Nymph and Moonshadow wandered about, admiring the stained glass figures, occasionally running to Marco with curious questions.
Just then, a guard rushed in, weaving through the busy crowd before stopping before the throne. Bowing deeply, he handed Marco a sealed raven letter.
Marco broke the seal and read it carefully. When he finished, he waved the guard away and motioned for Nymph and the others to gather around.
"Hahaha! Excellent! Morphord Velaryon has arrived in the Bay of Seals with his newly hatched dragon — and ten warships under his command!
Even better — his old flame One-Eyed Edgyr and her son Aurane Waters have brought five ships and over a thousand pirates to join us!"
Marco grinned broadly.
He had long been reluctant to expend resources building magical warships, and his navy remained incomplete. His men had little experience at sea — Hank had only been a "captain" thanks to the system's training, and Charles and Michael aboard the Moonlight had never fought a true sea battle.
With the Velaryons' arrival, Marco's naval weakness was finally being mended. Skagos was a massive island — too easily surrounded by enemy fleets.
Worse, the Fog of War spell that cloaked the island was nearing its two-year time limit. Without a powerful navy, Griffin Keep would soon be dangerously exposed.
The Shivering Sea, Bay of Seals.
Aboard the new Velaryon flagship — the Sea Dragon — the family's young heir, Montry Velaryon, played with his baby dragon, Silverfire. The little dragon gnawed at a half-cooked mutton leg clutched in his small hands.
Silverfire had already grown as large as a monitor lizard. Seven-year-old Montry could barely handle him anymore. When he tried to take the mutton back, Silverfire bared his teeth in protest, ready to spit a small flame — but an invisible force gently restrained it.
A light pat landed on its head. Silverfire turned to see its master smiling — and immediately tucked the mutton between its jaws and scurried behind him obediently.
"Father!"
Montry bowed respectfully, clutching the dragon as he approached Morphord Velaryon. Only then did he notice the two figures standing behind his father.
"Aunt Edgyr! Brother Aurane!"
Montry greeted them with perfect noble decorum. He knew well who they were — and they had always treated him kindly.
"My, my! How polite! Aurane, you should learn from him — that's how a noble acts!"
Edgyr looped her arm around her son's neck, scolding him teasingly. Aurane's face flushed slightly red.
"Mother! You know I can't stand all that etiquette nonsense," he muttered, prying himself free.
Before Edgyr could retort, a series of long, deep horn blasts echoed across the sea.
Aurane's eyes lit up. "Mother! Five long horns — that's the dragon signal, isn't it? You told me they only sound that when a dragon is sighted at sea!"
Edgyr looked toward Morphord, her expression questioning. He too frowned in confusion — until they all looked forward and saw a scene that left them speechless.
From the distant sky, a massive firebird was descending — at first small as a gull, but as it neared the masts, it grew until it filled the heavens with wings of flame.
Then, in a shower of golden sparks, the bird dissolved — and from within it, Marco leapt down, holding Moonshadow in his arms. A surge of seawater rose up beside the ship, cushioning their landing.
Walking across the rolling waves, Marco and Moonshadow stepped lightly onto the deck. Behind them descended Maeve, Dany, and Nymph.
The sailors and pirates stood frozen, mouths agape. Marco smiled.
"Hahaha… Morphord! Welcome to Griffin Keep! And this must be Captain Edgyr, yes?"
Morphord's voice trembled with excitement. "Lord Marco! I— I never imagined you would come yourself…"
Marco chuckled. "Why not? Shouldn't I personally greet my new Naval Minister?
If you'd delayed any longer, I might've given your position to someone else."
Morphord straightened immediately. "Y-Yes, Your Majesty! Thank you for your trust! The House Velaryon will forge the strongest navy in the world — to conquer every sea in your name!"
His voice rang with the fire of his youth once more — the old hunger for the ocean, the dream of Velaryon greatness reborn.
Guided by Marco, the fleet sailed through the Fog of War — emerging into a realm unlike any they had seen.
Before them loomed the magnificent Griffin Keep, under skies of warm sunlight and mild wind. It was as if they had crossed the Narrow Sea and returned to summer lands.
The pirates gasped and shouted in awe, like country folk seeing a castle for the first time. The keep itself dwarfed the Red Keep, and unlike that southern citadel, it carried no stench — only the clean, brisk air of sea and stone.
All the while, Marco and Morphord discussed naval preparations, while Dany and Edgyr talked like old friends reunited, their laughter rising above the sound of the waves.
The Next Day.
Dong… dong… woo… woo…
The sound of bells and horns echoed high above Griffin Keep.
Countless flower petals rained down from the towers, while below, the people cheered in waves of joy — for their lord, their godlike ruler, would today be crowned King. It was a moment to be written into history.
The palace hall on the third floor was filled with life. Though many of Marco's followers were absent, representatives from Hardhome and other regions had gathered.
Thirty male guards stood in two rows along the first stairway, while the four female guards stood upon the second.
Upon the throne sat Marco, dressed in a magnificent military uniform with a flowing violet cloak.
Behind him stood his four radiant wives of other races:
Moonshadow wore her Phoenix Feather Cloak over a pale jade-white gown — regal and mysterious.
Maeve shone in a pale golden dress, trimmed with delicate lace at the hem, sleeves, and collar — noble and graceful.
Dany was stunning in a form-fitting black gown, her fiery figure and proud bearing fully revealed — alluring and commanding.
Nymph wore what seemed like a dress made of crystal threads — a violet halter corset above, a green skirt below, both glittering like tiny jewels. Had she not insisted, Marco would've made her change into a human-style gown.
As the grand doors opened, the Three-Eyed Raven entered, clad in white robes, followed by five Children of the Forest.
All five had been transformed by Marco into Dryads, their beauty and ethereal forms drawing gasps from the assembled councillors of Hardhome.
Even Morphord's group, though mentally prepared, were left awestruck — as though their entire worldview had been overturned.
Behind the Raven, the five Dryads carried trays — one holding Marco's crown, and the other four bearing crowns for his queens.
Marco's crown was wrought of gold and amethyst, adorned in front with a large ruby, flanked on both sides by dragon-shaped crystal ornaments.
The Raven stopped before the throne, bowed deeply with his kin, then lifted the crown and began to recite the ceremonial vows.
"In the witness of all gods, beloved Lord Marco Belleris — do you vow to inherit the legacy of Valyrian civilization, and build a new empire?"
"I do."
"Do you vow to guard this Valyrian Empire — to serve as its Supreme Regent, its High Judge?"
"I do."
"Do you vow to become the God-Emperor of the Pantheon, ruling over Heaven and Earth until the stars themselves fall?"
"I do."
"Then — as your most faithful servant, and as High Priest of the Pantheon, I now, on behalf of the mortal and divine realms alike, crown you.
From this day forth, you are Marco I Belleris the Great — Supreme Emperor of the Valyrian Empire, God-Emperor of Heaven and Earth, Reviver of Magic, and Conqueror of the World!"
The Raven placed the crown upon Marco's head.
Marco then took the four remaining crowns and, one by one, placed them upon his wives.
Henceforth, they would all bear the name Belleris — and share the duty of ruling the empire, managing affairs, and guiding the realm's future.
"Long live Emperor Marco I! Long live Queen Moonshadow!"
The cheers erupted through the hall, echoing endlessly.
Everyone shouted as one — hailing their Emperor, the man who would reshape the world.
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