An emperor's heart laid bare
At this moment, the sunlight broke free from the horizon, and golden rays bathed the earth, turning the entire cloud layer a warm orange-red.
Daemon stopped roaring, his breathing slightly rapid, but he felt full of power. The confusion he had felt in the illusion last night had vanished, replaced by an unprecedented determination.
He looked down and it seemed as if the entire Crab Claw Peninsula unfolded beneath his feet. Dragon's Roost Port below was like a newly rising, dazzling pearl, set on the northeastern coast of the Westeros Crownlands. The waves of the Narrow Sea on the east coast shimmered with gold, and the outline of the Westeros was faintly visible below.
At that moment, he felt as if he truly stood above the entire world, with the whole land and the whole ocean appearing before his eyes.
He recalled the Dance of the Dragons from his past life, a civil war that wiped out the Targaryen, caused the royal bloodline to turn on each other, and ultimately led to the decline of the once-rising Targaryen Dynasty.
He recalled the threat of the White Walkers, which had been prematurely awakened because of his arrival from a century in the future. Those terrifying beings from the Lands of Always Winter in the the North, even without his arrival and premature awakening, would eventually cross the the Wall at some point in the future, sweeping across the entire Westeros and bringing endless darkness and destruction to the whole world;
He thought of his family members whom he cared about: Gael, Jocelyn, Baelon, Big Daemon, Rhaenys family, the Viserys family, Jaehaerys, and the elderly couple Alysanne. He couldn't let them repeat the mistakes of his past life.
He also has loyal followers like Rayford, Rupert, Jarman, and Lyonel, and he will lead them to pursue a more sublime and ambitious future.
But this time, he will no longer be limited to or satisfied with what he wanted a few years ago when he came to this place a hundred years ago. "To stop the tragedy."
The awakening Alys Rivers received last night, the throne in his linguistic dream, and the fates he wanted to change all told him: he could do more, he could have a bigger stage.
He is Daemon Blackfyre, the greatest rebel in the history of the Targaryen Dynasty. Whether in his past life a century later or in this present life a century ago, he is seen by all as the supreme, invincible, and charismatic "Reincarnation of the the Conqueror," "Master of the Blackfyre," "Warrior Descended to Earth," "Prince of Blackfyre," and "Black Dragon."
In his past life, driven by the "encouragement" and instigation of others, he raised the banner of rebellion for the Iron Throne that did not belong to him, a rebellion that ultimately swept across the entire Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, until his defeat and death on that nameless plain, leaving behind endless regrets.
In this life, he has arrived a century in the past, possessing the opportunity to change everything, having companions like the Glutton, and even more loyal followers. Why should he still confine himself to the mere thought of the "Iron Throne"?
The Iron Throne is the legacy of the Targaryen, a symbol shrouded in bloodshed and intrigue.
And he, Daemon Blackfyre, wants to build a kingdom of his own.
He, Daemon Blackfyre, wanted to truly conquer a kingdom of his own, just like his ancestor Aegon I the Conqueror, whom the world praised for his likeness.
But he wanted to transcend the "the Conqueror"; he wanted to crown himself king, not by inheriting anyone's throne, but by conquering everything through his own power and establishing a completely new order.
He wanted to prevent the dragons from withering away due to civil war, to prevent the entire Westeros from being torn apart by power struggles, and to eliminate the threat of the White Walkers.
He wanted to save everyone he cared about and give them a peaceful and stable future;
He will destroy all enemies who dare to challenge him or threaten what he cherishes, whether it be Otto's schemes, the Ironborn's raids, Dorne's disturbances, or the White Walkers ' invasion.
This ambition is no longer a passive act of being pushed along by fate, but an active choice to move forward.
He wants to be his own master, the ruler of this land, the true king, standing above all, conquering all, and protecting all.
He wanted far more than just a kingdom, a throne, or a crown. In this life, without the encouragement or instigation of others, he desired even more—
He was not content with a kingdom, a throne, or a crown; he wanted to build his own empire, create his own imperial throne, and crown himself emperor.
"Glutton," Daemon said softly, his fingertips gently stroking the dragon scales of the Glutton beneath him, "We still have a long way to go."
The Glutton seemed to understand his words, and let out another low dragon roar, its voice filled with submission and loyalty to the dragon tamer's ambition.
It spread its wings and circled once above the clouds, the air currents stirred up by its wings causing the surrounding clouds to churn and surge, as if building momentum for its upcoming journey.
The Grey Ghost hidden in the clouds finally dared to emerge. The cowardly, light gray-white dragon landed on Daemon's shoulder and nuzzled his cheek with its nose, as if responding to his determination.
Daemon raised his Blackfyre, its tip pointing directly at the rising sun. The cold gleam of the Valyrian steel sword intertwined with the golden sunlight, creating a dazzling beam of light.
At this moment, his eyes were sharp as knives, burning with ambition and determination in their deep purple hues. It was the gaze of a monarch, emperor, or king—firm and majestic, as if it could pierce through all obstacles in its path and illuminate the way forward.
"I, Daemon Blackfyre," his voice, though not loud, carried an undeniable power that echoed above the clouds, "Will establish an empire of my own, and personally crown myself with laurels and a coronation."
"I will stop the Dance of the Dragons, I will stop the dragons from withering away, I will stop the royal family from killing each other; I will resist the White Walkers, I will protect this land, and I will never again allow darkness to devour the light."
"I will save those I care about and give them eternal peace; I will destroy all enemies and make those who dare to resist pay the price."
"I will conquer all, to establish a new order of my own, and to make my name, my empire, live on forever!"
The moment the oath was uttered, the Glutton let out a dragon's roar that shook the heavens, as if witnessing it for him.
Dragonfire erupted from the Glutton's mouth. With the blessing of the Dragon Mark, the jet-black Dragonfire drew a magnificent arc in the morning light, landing on the distant clouds and instantly igniting the mist. Gold and black intertwined, creating a breathtaking scene.
Below, in Dragon's Roost Port, people looked up at the dark dragon shadow and dazzling firelight atop the clouds, as if they could feel the kingly pressure and determination emanating from above, their faces showing awe and fervor.
They didn't know what kind of oath their lord was making, but they could feel the unprecedented aura emanating from him, as if they could see the entire Dragon's Roost Port, the entire Crab Claw Peninsula, and the entire Westeros, about to usher in a new era.
Daemon gripped the Blackfyre, riding the Glutton, and hovered slowly above the clouds.
The rising sun gradually lengthened his shadow, intertwining it with the Glutton's dragon silhouette to form a majestic and magnificent figure.
At this moment, his ambition was no longer hidden, and his imperial ambition was clear. From this moment on, he was no longer just a time traveler from a hundred years later who wanted to change his family's fate, nor was he just the lord of Dragon's Roost Port in his own Crownlands. He was Daemon Blackfyre, the man destined to be crowned emperor and establish an immortal empire.
Beneath the clouds, Alys Rivers stood by her herb garden at the medical station, just as she had before. Her green cloak fluttered in the morning breeze, a complex and profound light flashing in her eyes. She sighed softly, then finally managed a slight upturn of her lips.
Gael still stood on the high platform, her light purple dress shimmering silver in the morning light. She gazed at the figure atop the clouds, unaware of what had transpired there, but her eyes were filled with trust and pride. She knew that her nephew, her husband, her Little Daemon, was about to embark on an unprecedented undertaking.
Hearing the noise, Bethany Hightower peeked out of the study window, gazing intently at the figure in the sky. Her eyes burned with even greater fervor and curiosity. She sensed that the secrets of the mysterious Black Dragon, Daemon Blackfyre, were far greater than she had imagined.
Meanwhile, Sir Ellyn Beesbury and Maester Maron were hiding in their tent, feeling the oppressive aura emanating from the clouds. Their faces were pale, their bodies trembling, and they were even more eager to escape this terrifying place.
Daemon surveyed the scene below, his gaze growing increasingly resolute.
Because he knew that the road ahead would not be smooth. Otto's scheming, the Ironborn's ambition, Dorne's secrets, King's Landing's Landing's movements, the threat of the White Walkers, and those enemies lurking in the shadows would all be obstacles on his path to building an empire.
But he was fearless, possessed the Dragonfire of the Glutton, loyal followers, the companionship of Gael, the power to change his destiny, and an indomitable imperial heart; he was enough to conquer everything.
The Glutton spread its wings again, carrying Daemon, and slowly descended towards Dragon's Roost Port below.
Sunlight bathed them, gilding the dragon scales and sword blades with a golden hue, as if draping the future emperor, the King of the Wild Dragons, in a cloak symbolizing glory and power.
At the docks of Dragon's Roost Port, all of Daemon's followers— Rayford Rosby, Jarman Waters, Myles Rivers—
Rupert Crabb, Colin Celtigar, Lyonel Corbray, and others, even the disabled Larys Strong, were already waiting there. They looked at the slowly descending Glutton with eyes full of awe and loyalty.
They didn't know what oath their Prince Daemon had made atop the clouds, but they could feel the completely different aura emanating from him—the aura of a king, the aura of an emperor.
Daemon flipped off the dragon saddle, sheathing his Blackfyre at his waist with a crisp, powerful sound as the scabbard struck the accessories on his ceremonial robes.
He walked up to the crowd, his gaze sweeping over each person, his voice steady and authoritative. "From this day forward, the construction of Dragon's Roost Port and indeed the entire Crownlands must be accelerated;
The training of the guards and all private soldiers within the territory must be even more rigorous;
Patrols in all bays and Narrow Sea areas near the peninsula should be expanded.
Intelligence gathering must not only be precise, but also extend beyond King's Landing to cover the entirety of Westeros and overseas.
"We must have bigger goals and accomplish greater things."
The crowd responded in unison, "Yes, Your Highness!" Their voices were loud and clear, filled with determination and fervor.
Daemon nodded slightly, his gaze once again turning towards the cloud peaks, towards the direction where the sun was rising.
His conquests, his empire, his great achievements, and his ambitions will all begin from this moment, from the Dragon's Roost Port beneath his feet, officially commencing a magnificent prelude.
He will take the desolate Crab Claw Peninsula beneath his feet as his foundation, and the Dragon's Roost Port he personally built as his starting point. He will conquer step by step, establish step by step, and finally stand at the top of the world, crown himself, and write an immortal legend of his own, Daemon Blackfyre.