King Viserys III Targaryen

The water moved underneath him, Viserys knew that the spell had worked, somehow. The horn had been blown before they'd departed, and the Dothraki and their horses had kept their composure, despite some of the horrid things they'd undergone. The Volanteene had kept to their end of the bargain and had moved their fleet for action, preparing to disrupt the Redwyne fleet if they were needed, if not they would attack Braavos, and ensure that the Westerosi were in trouble from that end. They'd gone passed the ruins of Valyria, and the eggs had stirred briefly as they had. The fires had burned, and gods alone knew what was going on there. Viserys swore to himself that when he had taken the throne he would lead an expedition to Valyria to reclaim it.

They'd had a bit of trouble navigating the waters of the Stepstones some pirates had come and tried to cause a stir, but thankfully, Euron Greyjoy's ways and his words had persuaded the pirates to join with them. Viserys continued to marvel at how many people Euron Greyjoy knew and just how charming he could be. Viserys saw him for the rogue he was, but still, there was something in that, that made him a good commander and advisor. There'd been a bit of trouble as they'd crossed Estermont but Viserys had dispatched the ships that had come that way, and the soldiers had not sent out any letters or ravens. Things had gone well. They'd seen Storm's End in the pale light, and Viserys had sworn he would raze that castle to the ground before all was said and done. Ships from Tarth had added themselves to their number and Lord Galladon had pledged fealty.

Truthfully, Viserys had been shocked at the lack of defence that had been put in place. He would have thought that the usurper would have at least tried to prevent their ships from coming. He had been led to expect that the usurper knew that they were coming. Evidently that was not the case, and if he were being honest, Viserys was somewhat disappointed, he had wanted a fight, not a walk over. He had told his commanders that they would take Dragonstone first, the place where he'd fled Westeros, and the place where his ancestor had first decided to conquer the seven kingdoms. It was fitting as far as he was concerned. He could see the isle from where he stood on the deck, dressed in armour, they'd made a journey that would usually take four moons in two, simply because of the horn. He marvelled at its power.

"Sire, there are ships ahead." Said Ser Jorah.

"Prepare the men." Viserys replied. Orders were barked, and the men formed up, the weapons were prepared. Viserys steeled himself, Dark Sister in his hand. He did not know if he would need to shed blood today, but he hoped so, he was getting tired of this waiting. The ships came into view flying the stag of Baratheon. They contained oars and men dressed in armour. Viserys looked at them, raised his sword, and then brought it down. The Dothraki archers unleashed their arrows across the fleet. Viserys watched as the arrows found their mark, some were killed, others were knocked back. They fired their own arrows. Viserys watched as the arrows soared passed him and laughed. "Again, with fire." He commanded the order was given.

He watched as the arrows were lit and unleashed, the ships that caught fire did so abruptly leaving nothing more than burned out husks in their wake, the sound of men screaming was something that he found to be quite interesting. There were different ways in which men could die screaming. The way when a man screamed high told you he was a child pleading for his mother. When a man screamed low, and throaty, he was a young man wondering why the gods had lied to him about battle. And then there was the third scream, of a man resigned to his death. "Enough." Viserys commanded and the archers stopped. "Ram them." Amidst, the burning and the rubble the ships moved into one another.

With his sword drawn, Viserys boarded one ship, watched as the men dressed in gold and black moved toward him. He cut them down, and watched their bodies fall into the sea, their armour dragging them down. Others were not wearing armour, but plain clothes, and they died easily. They should have been protected, a fear of drowning clearly prevented common sense from prevailing. Viserys continued on his way, swinging his sword, as more men came to defend their comrades, he cut them down as well. More and more they came and more and more they bled. Viserys sighed, there was nothing to their defence. He took a few hits after thinking that and he was glad, he did not want to rule over weaklings.

"Surrender. I am your rightful King. Surrender and I shall be merciful." Viserys roared.

Nobody responded with their words, but with violence. Viserys sighed, he cut down someone with black hair and a beard, someone who looked like what he vaguely remembers the usurper looking like. He continued cutting down men and sighed. As the fighting dulled around him, his commanders found him. "Sire, we are approaching Dragonstone. What do you wish us to do about the Baratheons?"

Viserys considered this, he could show mercy and turn Baratheon against Baratheon. However much fun that would be, he seriously doubts the Baratheons will turn on one another, unlike his own family they had never done such a thing. He sighed, there was only one thing that could be done now. "I want them brought before me, I shall pass judgement and they shall die as the traitors they are."

"All, Sire?"

"All." Viserys said, the guard bowed and they landed on Dragonstone, he was home, but there was more blood that would need to be shed.

King Jon I Baratheon

He knelt before the altar of the Seven, as the High Septon-the first woman High Septon in memory- said the words. "Before the Father, grant him wisdom and truth, before the Mother grant him love for his subjects, before the Crone, grant him knowledge to rule wisely, before the Warrior grant him the power to defend us all, before the Maiden grant him the purity to produce a line that will keep Westeros safe for all years, and before the Stranger, let death come to his enemies." The oil was poured over his head, and the water followed. Jon knelt, his eyes closed. He knew that this was an essential part of the coronation, and he knew that King Aegon the Dragon had adopted it from an Andal ritual, but by the gods was it uncomfortable, he'd been kneeling for some four hours already and his knees were aching. He said nothing, he thought of nothing after that, simply knelt with his eyes closed, then when he heard the bell ring, he got up. The High Septon looked at him and nodded. "His Majesty has been anointed with the Holy Oil and Water, he shall now progress on the walk as Hugor of the Hill did." Jon walked out of the Great Sept, dressed in simple shirt and trousers. The Kingsguard accompanied him. He walked down the steps, the eyes of the people on him. He stepped onto the road and started walking, the people watched in silence as he walked passed them. No doubt they were remembering this, some had been there for his father's coronation, others were seeing this for the first time.

The streets were lined with people, they were all there, his people. He had been King for some three moons now, but it still felt like a dream, only now was it truly beginning to feel real, as if it had truly happened. He kept going, knowing that though his knees ached, the reward would be worth the pain he suffered. He walked through the streets, and nodded to the people, seeing who was there and who wasn't knowing that those who weren't there would likely think of some excuse for why they weren't present. Jon shook his head and laughed slightly. The Tyrells had come at the last moment bringing their daughter with them. Margaery was nice and pretty but he'd been too busy with his work that he'd not actually spoken to her, and if he were being honest it seemed as if she preferred Quentyn to him, his friend who had grown taller and broader since they'd last met. Aegon's High Hill came before him then. He walked up it, one step at a time until he was at the gates. "Who goes there?" the City Watch called out.

"It is I, Jon, of the House Baratheon, King of Westeros." Jon replied.

"Do you promise to protect the city with everything within your body?" the City Watch asked.

Not for the first time, Jon wondered at the questions. "I do." The gates opened and he walked in. He walked passed the watch and the courtiers, he walked into his rooms, changed into gold and black, then walked to the throne room, the doors opened. The High Septon was there as was his mother. He bowed before her, then ascended the throne.

The High Septon stood before him. "Who would claim the throne of Westeros?"

"I, Jon of the House Baratheon would claim the throne. I have sworn the seven oaths, I have sat before the Seven Gods and I have sworn my pledge to defend the realm. I would claim by right of blood and might. I have defeated those who would come and try to stake their right to the throne and I have brought before you all times of peace and plenty." Jon replied, reciting the traditional oath that King Aegon had written during the time he had spent in the Starry Sept.

The High Septon nodded, and then said. "Before all those gathered here, I pronounce you Jon of the House Baratheon, to be sovereign before all. Let all men, women and children owe you their life and limb, their air, and their water and their hearth. Before the Seven and the Gods of Old, I declare you, King." She placed the crown, a band of gold with crosses atop it, on his head. Then turned and said. "The King has been crowned. Long Live the King!"

The assembled nobles all replied with the same. "Long Live the King!" Then they came and swore their oaths, his mother came first, then Tommen, then Myrcella, then Uncle Renly, and Lord Arryn and the others. Uncle Stannis was out patrolling the Narrow Sea ensuring that no vagabonds came and took things. Therefore, his wife Lady Rhea came and swore fealty on his behalf. As the lords and ladies all came and said their vows, Jon wondered whether he would be able to meet Lady Margaery in private, and ask her what she wanted. He got the feeling she didn't want to marry him, and so he wanted to make sure he knew what it was she wanted. He was King after all, and had the right to make what plans he could for his subjects.

The last of the oaths were said, and the High Septon stood down. Jon spoke from the throne, his sword in his hand, and the sceptre in the other. "I have been crowned King, and I promise to do all within my power to bring peace and harmony before Westeros, to ensure that we might do as we can to bring greater cohesion to our world." The crowd cheered. Then the doors opened, and a man staggered in, he was dirty, he was bleeding and he staggered straight for the throne, where the Kingsguard stopped him.

"Your Majesty." The man said.

Jon recognised the voice, but it was his aunt Rhea who said. "Ser Davos? What are you doing here?"

The Onion staggered and fell onto his knees. "There has been a great tragedy, my King. My lord Stannis and the Royal Fleet were patrolling the seas, when they came across a hostile fleet, there was a battle, the fleet was defeated. The enemy was commanded by Euron Greyjoy, they have taken Dragonstone."

"And my children?" Rhea Florent asked.

Ser Davos looked at her, his face bruised and bloodied. "Dead, my lady." Rhea Florent cried then, and Jon swallowed, shit.