A remote hillside on Dragonstone was home to a Sept of the Seven.
It was a rudimentary church symbolically built on Dragonstone by Aegon Targaryen I, the Conqueror, after he subjugated Westeros and was forced to adopt the Faith of the Seven to win the hearts of the people.
In the past, there were no maesters or bishops, not even a single servant to clean it.
Unexpectedly, the church now served a purpose.
Viserys Targaryen stood below the altar, a white silk ribbon tied around his left arm—a symbol of mourning for his mother, Queen Rhaella.
Due to the simple conditions and urgent timing, his mother's funeral, his sister's birth ceremony, and his own coronation were held on the same day, at the same location, with Viserys Targaryen's consent.
Compared to the splendor of King's Landing, the dilapidation of Dragonstone was unbearable.
As the ancestral home of the Targaryen Family, passed down since the Valyrian era, the residents of Dragonstone only worshipped Targaryen.
However, after the dragons vanished, Dragonstone completely lost its importance to the Targaryen Family, eventually becoming a mere figurehead of an island.
Not to mention the vassals, even most of the island's populace had migrated to nearby islands or to King's Landing across the Narrow Sea to live in peace, leaving only a few thousand coastal fishermen.
"Your Highness, you have suffered greatly!"
Maester Daniel frowned, his face wrinkled as he spoke.
He had been stationed on Dragonstone ever since he became a Maester, for several decades now.
He had served the Targaryen Family his entire life, and he never expected to see the day he would crown a new King.
The last coronation on Dragonstone likely dated back hundreds of years, to Queen Rhaenyra!
"It's alright!"
Viserys Targaryen bowed slightly and shook his head at the old Maester, saying, "Aegon of old also proclaimed himself Lord of the Seven Kingdoms on Dragonstone.
At that time, he didn't even have a proper Maester or church, and had to rely on his own sisters to crown him King!"
Hearing this, Maester Daniel looked up in surprise at the silver-haired, violet-eyed prince, who was only eight years old.
The blow of a ruined kingdom and lost home seemed to have no emotional impact on the prince whatsoever; there was no sign of madness brought on by hatred in his clear eyes!
"These are extraordinary times; there's no need to fuss over such formalities!"
Viserys's gaze was firm as he looked into the distance.
As far as the eye could see, the Dragonstone coast was covered with countless warships, and the three-headed dragon banner fluttered over the sea...
That was the last powerful army of the Targaryen Family, and the hard-earned foundation Viserys had painstakingly accumulated since his transmigration!
"Hiss—"
A dragon-like hiss echoed through the sky, accompanied by the cries of a baby, "Wah wah wah—" and everyone turned to look.
A small, blood-red dragon, about the size of a wildcat, with crimson scales, poked its head out of the swaddling clothes, hissing brazenly at the wet nurse, seemingly expressing its displeasure.
The head wet nurse's face turned pale with fright, her body trembled, but her hands still clutched Princess Daenerys Targaryen tightly.
"Your Highness, this dragon seems very exclusive!"
Maester Daniel frowned.
As the only Maester on Dragonstone, he was naturally very interested in the mysteries of dragons.
However, even though he personally fed the Hatchling Dragon milk every day, he still couldn't gain any recognition from it.
They seemed to instinctively trust members of the Targaryen Family.
Beyond that, any creature that approached actively would be seen as a threat by the Hatchling Dragon.
"Let me hold Dany!"
Viserys Targaryen shook his head helplessly and stepped forward to take the swaddled baby from the wet nurse's arms.
Watching the wet nurse flee in terror, Viserys was momentarily amused and exasperated.
The terrifying deterrence of dragons, even after three hundred years, was still deeply etched in the hearts of Dragonstone's people.
It was rumored that Hatchling Dragons held grudges, and whoever fed a Hatchling Dragon without its master's permission would be devoured by the fully grown dragon, guided by their scent.
Now, he, a future King, couldn't even find a wet nurse who could care for Princess Daenerys.
"Ah—don't cry, don't cry!"
Viserys Targaryen put the bottle to Daenerys's rosy little mouth, patiently rocking Dany in his arms.
The next moment, the Hatchling Dragon, completely at ease, dove into the swaddling clothes and began to compete with Daenerys for the milk!
Seeing this, Maester Daniel's eyes widened, and he immediately excitedly pulled out his notebook to record everything.
"The Targaryen Family possesses true dragon blood, this is absolutely true!"
As the first Maester in this world to encounter a Hatchling Dragon, he had already become a renowned dragon researcher.
But fundamentally, this was all due to the Targaryen Family's advantage of location.
"Your Highness, the coronation ceremony is about to begin!"
Princess Illyria Martell, who was in lactation, came forward holding Young Aegon and urged, "Let me feed Princess Daenerys!"
"Hiss—"
The little dragon Merias angrily poked out its head and threatened Princess Illyria Martell, scaring her into retreating repeatedly, her face turning green and purple.
However, she took a deep breath and, still mustering her courage, stepped forward with Young Aegon.
She didn't know about others, but how could she not understand whose blood flowed in Young Aegon's veins?
As Young Aegon approached, Merias seemed to sense something.
It tilted its head, looked at the male infant who was only a few months older than Daenerys, and then showed an affectionate expression.
"Indeed, dragons recognize bloodlines!"
Princess Illyria Martell's heart swelled with joy.
Ever since Daenerys's companion dragon eggs hatched, Prince Doran of Dorne had been extremely attentive to the remaining power of the iron throne on Dragonstone.
As the last staunch ally of the dragon family, the iron throne should have rightfully belonged to his grandson, Young Aegon!
Unfortunately, Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen died prematurely, which ultimately led to the iron throne falling into Viserys's hands.
But none of that was set in stone yet!
Whoever controlled the dragons in the future would have the right to speak!
"We must ensure Young Aegon has more contact with the Hatchling Dragon and tames it as soon as possible! Failing that, we must find a way to hatch dragon eggss and bring the dragons' lair to Dorne…"
Prince Doran's words haunted Princess Illyria Martell's mind like a nightmare.
Since ancient times, emperors have been heartless.
She already knew in her heart that she had lost Prince Rhaegar's love.
Even for the sake of her only son, she could not simply hand over the iron throne.
"Ah—"
Just as she was deep in thought, a blood-red mouth suddenly bit Princess Illyria Martell's hand, startling her so much that she almost fell.
Young Aegon in her arms was teary-eyed and soon burst into loud sobs.
"Hatchling Dragons are close to the blood of Dragon Kings; the Dragon King's mother is not included!"
Maester Daniel, standing nearby, pulled out his pen again and scribbled away... Compared to the humble coronation on Dragonstone, the coronation ceremony in King's Landing was even worse.
Cersei Lannister, with a grim face, strutted like a triumphant rooster, holding Robert Baratheon's arm, and entered the The Red Keep's hall with a fake smile.