[center][h3][color=fff200]Coronation in the Pit[/color][/h3][/center]

The sun was high above Kings landing, its light shown heavily through the dome of the great Dragon Pit. At the sides, chained in there nest like alcoves, the wondrous beasts grooming or sunbathing and seemingly unaware of the massive procession that had set up at the bottom of the pit. Wooden stands had been set up along a path filled with members of Nobility in Kings Landing, all Green supporters of course.

Quiet murmuring had sounded in echoes since the myriad nobles had first arrived but it quickly stopped as the royal procession began. At the end of the path was a pedestal upon which were arrayed the small council and members of the royal family. Ser Otto Hightower stood nearest the top, being Hand of the King, and Queen mother Allicent stood not much farther away as chaperone to Aegon's children. Upon the pedestal itself stood Ser Criston Cole, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, resplendant in his white armor and cloak. Next to him stood Septon Eustace and several others holding gilded chalices. The rest of  the small council were arrayed here and there around the raised dais 

The sound of triumphant horns announced Aegon and Helaena's approach. Future King and Queen were flanked by the other mebers of the King's Guard, armed and armored as their Lord Commander but with great-helms on. Aegon stood tall as he walked down the quiet lanes, a picture of Royal pride. He wore an ornate set of black armor with gold chasings, his personal sigil of a golden dragon embossed in the senter of his chest. The armor was heavily detailed, engraved with dragons and black fire. His left hand rested upon the ruby pommel of Blackfyre, the conquerors blade. Behind him trailed a long, black cloak with trimmings in gold and his sigil embroidered at its center. with wings unfolded and fire spewing forth from its maw.  His hands were richly ringed, several expensive jewels accompanied the signet ring all Targaryens wore.

Next to King Aegon, arm intertwined with his and a hand on her husbands shoulder, strode Queen Helaena. She too was richly dressed in a black and gold silken dress that well displayed her voloptious form. In her hair were woven small golden and black flowers, and her flowing silvery locks glistened in the noon sun beautifully. The pair approached the dais and kneeled before Septon and Lord Commander, prepared for their elevation to King and Queen. 

Septon Eustace, adorned in rich robes of white trimmed with all the colors of the rainbow stood upright, Septas walking a circle around the royal pair and swinging braizers of incense before departing. Two page boys stood nearby with the Valyrian steel and ruby crown of Aegon the Conqueror, another with the matching crown of his sister-wife Rhaenys. 

Eustace intoned his voice to carry throughout the labrynthine hall and formed a blessing gesture as he retrieved the first of seven holy oils. He spoke solemnly as he dripped the blessed oils over the pair, "May the Father grant him the wisdom to rule justly." 

Another page retrieved the vessel and passed Eustace another as they continued the ceremony, "May the Mother grant him the heart to rule with mercy." 

"May the Warrior defend him and grant him the fortitude to persevere in these dark times." 

"May the Smith grant him strength to face the burdens he must bear." 

"May the Maiden keep his wife, his children, and those he loves safe." 

"May the Crone, who knows the fate of all men, lift her lantern and show him the path through the shadows." 

"May the Stranger, show favor to him and keep him from falling into those shadows." 

The last vessel was poured and the Septon raised his arms to heaven as he said, "In the Light of the Seven, I now proclaim, Aegon of House Targaryen, Second of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Six Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm. Long may he reign." 

The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard lowered the Crown of Aegon the Conqueror upon the new King's head as Queen Mother Alicent lowered its partner upon Helaena, and the room echoed with a chorus of, "Long may he reign." 

With the proper crowning complete Aegon and Helaena stood, and turned to one another. A short kiss followed by applause and their hands parted as Aegon smiled towards the beautiful Sunfyre. The glittering Gold dragon dropped into the pit with a triumphant roar, stalking towards the platform to its rider. Aegon released the clasps of his luxurious cape, which was quickly collected by his paige.

He climbed atop the magnificent beast, settling into the dragons saddle. He locked himself in place, speaking softly to the glittering dragon as he readied himself. Mere moments later the dragon was flapped its great wings and took to the skies. He would fly thrice around the capital, a final tradition to be seen by the small folk and lords, their King high above them upon a terrifyingly beautiful beast.

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Prince Aemond mounted his gold and black barded horse, riding down the street of sisters and watching Aegon fly around the city on the magnificent Sunfyre. He rode behind his sister Heleana and his mother Alicent, as well as his grandfather Ser Otto. The remaining members of the Kingsguard followed, then the Small Council, and a long train of courtiers and retainers. Banners waved in the air and Targaryen Men-at-arms, Hightower men, and Gold Cloaks marched on either side of the column. Flowers drifted through the air and silvery horns sounded with triumphants drums as the smallfolk cheered, many of them pointing to the sky as the party rode on. 

Aemond waved back at the crowd, winking at a comely lass. As many peasants there were who smiled at him, others shrank back from the sight of his glittering sapphire eye. Aemond leaned over to Ser Criston Cole, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, "It is something isn't it? The love of the people. How does it feel to have it back, ser? Odd that you had to betray your lady love to do so. You were never so well-liked since you fought in her name. I imagine you must have mixed feelings."  He sneered at his mentor. 

Riding proudly atop his own steed next to the prince, Cole held the reigns casually with one hand, waving idly with the other. Keeping his eyes fixed on the crowd, he turned his head ever-so-slightly to listen as the prince spoke. Allowing for Aemond to air his goading remarks, as he so often did, Cole replied smugly "Fought and [i]won[/i]." Silencing himself for a moment as he maintained a confident smile and returned to waving towards the crowds, he continued, "In my experience, the people haven't concerned themselves with who's favour I hold. So long as you fight well, and," now offering the prince his full attention, with a smug nod of his head, "I do."

Straightening his posture and looking ahead with an audible sigh, the Lord Commander decided to avoid the topic of Rhaenyra directly, instead reminiscing of his old melees and tourneys, "Cracking the skull of Laenor's boy-lover. Gods, that was a good fight. Pompous little shit called himself the 'Knight of the Kisses'." Throwing his head back in a brief, but loud guffaw, the man continued, "There'll be plenty of that to go around when she and Daemon hear of this. With any luck, it'll be his skull next."

Aemond laughed with him, "Aye, I remember that. That's the day you made Strongbones, Breakbones. Jealously, perhaps? Unbecoming of a Kingsguard isn't it?" Aemond kept riding with Cole, "Ah, my uncle would relish the chance I think. He never forgave you for beating him in tourney. My uncle's skull is hardier than any ten men's combined, I wish you luck." 

Aemond smiled confidently, "But it will be I who beats Daemon. On dragon back. Vhagar will break the Blood Wyrm, and I'll pry Dark Sister from my dear uncle. I couldn't do it without you of course, you taught me well. But you know what they say about students and mentors." 

Aemond had always been a shit, and even as a young boy excelled in knowing just how to make those around him tick. For most, it was the reason they hated him. Cole, however, had always found entertainment in listening to the young Targaryen's barbs and taunts, even if his words concerning Rhaenyra often hit a little too close to home. "You don't need luck when you're as good as I am.", he said simply with a cocky smirk plastered across his face. Aemond was, in Cole's mind, right about one thing. Dragons. This war would not be decided by the exploits of Cole or any other swordsman, that much was certain, and instead the fate of Westeros would depend on the skill of the dragonriders.

Casting the thought aside, the idea of being without any major glory in his first true war being an unwelcome thought to the Lord Commander, he shrugged casually before commenting, "When the day comes I can no longer hold a fucking sword, years from now, maybe what those fools say will ring true." Humming in thought for a second, he sneered, "Maybe."

Aemond chuckled, clapping Cole on the shoulder, "Don't be so fucking grim, ser. We'll need you as a general in this fight. And aye, you'll be old someday. But not today, nor soon. Until then, why don't you crack as much skulls as you can eh? I always wanted to go to war with you." He smiled for once and turned back to wave to the crowds. 

"My brother's lucky he has us on his side. And woe to my fair sister." 

Likewise returning his attention to the crowds, waving and meeting the eyes of the fairer women among them, he couldn't help but laugh at Aemond's words. 

"Aye, woe unto your fucking sister."