Willemrys’ eldest son, Viserys’ first grandson, bore the na Caesar Targaryen. While it might seem unusual to use a surna as a given na, there was no equivalent surna like Caesar in this world, making the choice fittingly unique. However, Viserys couldn’t help but notice that his grandson showed little interest in politics, even from a young age. Instead, Caesar seed far more captivated by Olenna, the ddaughter of Margaery’s eldest son, Duncan.
This phenonon—marrying for companionship or affection rather than purely for political gain—had begun to resurface in the third generation of Targaryens. Perhaps it was sothing intrinsic to the Valyrian bloodline, though Viserys found himself less inclined to concern himself with the fourth generation. After his abdication, he planned to travel the world with Dany and his grandchildren, leaving the future to Willemrys and his siblings.
As Willem and Viserys erged together from the palace, Dany joined them. Each parent took one of their sons by the arm, and they walked toward the square of the Red Palace, where dozens of dragons awaited.
The Targaryen dragon population had flourished over the past two decades, surpassing a hundred in number. Dragonstone, their breeding ground, was already feeling the strain of housing so many of these magnificent creatures. The largest among them, a young yellow dragon, had grown to over eighty ters in length. At just over forty years old, it was still considered a juvenile by dragon standards, with a potential lifespan of over two centuries. So speculated that it might one day surpass even Balerion the Black Dread in size.
Other dragons from Viserys’ original brood had also grown impressively, nearing seventy ters in length. After Hermine’s green dragon died, she had taken to riding a red one, and as the group arrived at the square, she and Hali swooped down on their dragons to greet them.
The sound of two dragons roaring in unison echoed across the square, and the dozen or so others took up the cry in a cascading relay. The chorus of roars reverberated throughout King’s Landing as one by one, the dragons soared into the sky.
In the center of the square, thousands of nobles from across the known world stood solemnly before a three-tiered altar to the heavens. At the sight of the emperor and the new emperor approaching, the gathering fell silent, many of the attendees gazing at Viserys with a mix of awe and reverence.
Closest to the altar were mbers of the royal family, including the Targaryen princesses who had already married into other houses. Viserys had thirty-three children, and their unions had produced enough offspring to swell the ranks of the Pureborn to over a hundred.
Willemrys glanced at his younger siblings out of the corner of his eye. Their variety of faces—so familiar yet suddenly distant—stirred an odd feeling in his chest. It was as if an invisible barrier had risen between him and his blood relatives, creating a strange sense of detachnt.
So of his siblings were staring at his face, others at his dragon robe.
“You’ll get used to it,” Viserys whispered with a smile, noticing Willem’s unease.
Dany, too, sensed her son’s discomfort. She reached for his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Her touch was soft yet strong, and Willem felt a wave of calm wash over him. His parents still looked so young, so vital. If he ever faltered in his responsibilities, he knew he could turn to them for guidance.
With this reassurance, Willem straightened his back and strode confidently toward the Temple of Heaven.
The towering structure was the centerpiece of the square, and from its heights, the entire gathering could be observed. Nobles from every corner of the known world were present, filling the space in elaborate garb. The Kingsguard stood in their shining armor, keeping order and holding back the throngs of spectators.
The noblewon were dazzling in their finery, many of them young ladies vying for the new emperor’s attention or seeking favor for their houses. Among them were their male counterparts, clad in the plate armor of Westeros. While the armor retained its symbolic prestige, many knew that its practical use was dwindling in the face of advancing weaponry. Viserys’ inventions—artillery and explosives—had rendered even the sturdiest castles vulnerable, and the ever-growing number of dragons only deepened the shift away from traditional defenses.
Representatives from the Free Cities stood out with their more eclectic styles, from Qartheen nobles with exposed torsos to those dressed in flowing togas. Willemrys even spotted a Qartheen with one breast uncovered, a stark reminder of the cultural diversity on display.
Nobles from nearly every corner of the world had co to witness this mont, making it a glory the Targaryens had never before experienced—not even under Viserys himself.
But Willem knew the truth. All this splendor and reverence was not for him; it was the legacy of his parents that had brought them here.
The three of them ascended the Temple of Heaven, its spire rising as the highest point in the square. Upon reaching the platform, Viserys and Dany stopped and stood to one side, while Willem turned to face them. Slowly, he knelt on one knee before his parents.
Dany held a crown in her hands, its intricate design a masterpiece of Valyrian craftsmanship. She passed it to Viserys, who stepped forward and placed it gently on Willem’s head.
“Do a good job,” Viserys said to Willemrys, his tone light but aningful. “And when you’ve had enough of being emperor, your mother and I will take you on a trip around the world.”
He looked at his son, who now stood nearly as tall as he did. A rare wave of pride and accomplishnt washed over him.
“I’ll be down in a minute. We’ll leave today,” Willem replied with a grin.
“Don’t make crack you over the head on the most solemn occasion in the world,” Viserys shot back, shaking his head with mock exasperation.
From the square below, the gathered nobles and dignitaries were awed by the solemnity of the coronation ceremony. But within the confines of the tower, only the three Targaryens knew the ridiculous exchange that had just passed between them.
When Willemrys descended, the formalities resud.
“Long may his reign be glorious!” the nobles chanted in unison.
“Long may his reign be glorious!”
“Long may his reign be glorious!”
The celebrations lasted for seven days. On the first day, the festivities began in King’s Landing and spread across the Crownlands. By the second and third days, the entire country joined in the revelry. On the fourth and fifth days, the enthusiasm started to wane, and by the seventh day, the ceremonies and feasts finally ca to an end.
Many of the nobles who had co to swear fealty or offer congratulations lingered for nearly a month, taking advantage of the occasion to solidify alliances and curry favor with the new emperor.
Once the formalities were complete, Viserys and Dany left King’s Landing, leaving Willemrys to navigate the mountain of red tape that ca with the transition of power. Taking a handful of their grandchildren, the pair traveled to Dragonstone, the historic seat of the crown prince.
Despite its significance, Dragonstone remained a practical, almost utilitarian place, serving primarily as a breeding ground for dragons. Viserys had no interest in turning it into a tourist attraction or charging admission for “dragon sightseeing tours.” Dragons, after all, were dangerous creatures, unpredictable and volatile.
Tradition dictated that the crown prince bore the title Prince of Dragonstone until ascending the throne. With Willem now emperor, his eldest son, Caesar, was the rightful heir to the title. However, Caesar was still in King’s Landing, accompanying his father at public events.
Dragonstone, therefore, was unusually quiet. The air was heavy with the mingling scents of sulfur, blood, and the ever-present sea breeze, which masked the harsher odors.
Though over a hundred dragons now lived across the realm, most of the dragons at Dragonstone were still younglings. Any mature dragons over four or five ters long and capable of flight had already been claid by Targaryen Dragon Knights. From a distance, young dragons no larger than chickens or ducks could be seen flapping their wings in clumsy attempts to fly.
As Viserys and Dany descended on their yellow and silver dragons, a young gray dragon landed nearby, its curiosity evident. Soldiers stationed on Dragonstone quickly recognized the new arrivals, but when one began approaching to greet them, Viserys waved him away.
This was a rare mont—a world of two, where each was the other’s entire focus.
Their plans for the journey ahead had been ticulously discussed. First, they would visit the Free Cities, offering morale-boosting appearances on behalf of their newly crowned son. It was their gift to Willem, a gesture of support after his ascension.
Next, they would travel to Valyria, where efforts to explore and develop the ancient ruins were ongoing. It was clear that for the next few centuries, much of the empire’s progress in magic and technology would rely heavily on archaeology and the rediscovery of Valyrian secrets.
After Valyria, they would turn to Slaver’s Bay, where troubling signs of slavery’s resurgence had begun to surface. Not long ago, Viserys had dispatched an army to stamp out the remnants of the Harpy’s influence, nearly losing his son Rudy in the process. Rudy believed his father was unaware of the risks he had taken, but Viserys knew all too well. If Rudy had perished, Viserys would not have hesitated to turn Slaver’s Bay into a scorched wasteland.
Their journey would then take them to Qarth. The empire’s military presence in the city had ensured its submission, and its annual tributes were unfailingly punctual. The city’s loyalty extended to rembering the birthdays of Viserys’ children, each of whom received a carefully chosen gift from Qarth each year.
After leaving Qarth, Viserys and Dany set their sights on Asshai—a land shrouded in magic and mystery. It was a place that had intrigued them for years, especially after the enigmatic Quaithe, who once issued cryptic warnings to Daenerys, vanished without a trace. Now, with the Night King defeated and the White Walkers no longer a threat, Viserys saw no reason to avoid venturing eastward.
“If you want to go west, go east,” had always been a saying that resonated with him. Exploring Asshai and its rumored arcane sorceries seed a perfect fit for their journey. The two were fascinated by the idea of uncovering new mysteries and rediscovering ancient knowledge. Once they had experienced Asshai, their plan was to continue eastward before eventually returning to Westeros.
Walking along the walls of Dragonstone, Viserys and Dany watched their grandchildren playing below. Dany cradled a peculiar young dragon with snowy white scales and jet-black limbs and eyes.
As they strolled, Viserys recounted a tale that left Dany with a bemused expression.
“So you’re saying,” she began skeptically, “that this world of mine is just a story written by soone nad Martin? And that you’re not truly Viserys?”
Relieved to finally share his secret, Viserys nodded. “Yes. I was a sellsword from another world. If the story had followed its original path, you would have been married to Khal Drogo by Illyrio’s arrangent, and the real Viserys would have t his end in Vaes Dothrak, killed by molten gold.”
Dany’s violet eyes searched his face, her expression thoughtful rather than angry. For a long mont, she remained silent. Finally, she looked up and said, “Brother, you should consider writing a new story—A World Without Restorers.”
Viserys blinked, surprised. “You believe ?”
“Yes,” Dany replied simply. “That’s why I suggested A World Without Restorers, not A World Without Viserys.”
“So you accept who I am?” he asked, still stunned by her openness.
“Of course,” she said with a faint smile. “If soone looks like Viserys, acts like Viserys, and lives as Viserys, then he is Viserys.”
With that, she launched a playful attack on his private parts, laughing at his startled reaction. Viserys quickly dropped the subject, realizing that Dany’s pragmatism left no room for existential musings. They had lived as siblings and partners for decades, and there was no reason to disrupt their bond over theoretical matters.
The two set off with their grandchildren and great-grandchildren, spending over a year touring the Free Cities. They found remnants of the exiled Lannisters and Arryns in places like Volantis and Braavos, far from Westeros. These families, stripped of their assets, had faded into obscurity over the decades.
Viserys felt no guilt for their downfall. Compared to the rulers of the world he once knew—who often resorted to annihilating entire families or clans—he had been remarkably rciful. This restraint, of course, stemd not only from his moral compass but also from the unshakable power of the Targaryen dynasty, bolstered by their dragons.
After the Free Cities, the pair visited Slaver’s Bay. Years ago, the Harpy cultists had murdered the empire’s local administrators. After a decisive crackdown, they had since been subdued, though vigilance remained necessary. The largest pyramid in Astapor had been repurposed into a royal palace, though no Targaryen royals resided there. With the sheer number of Targaryen descendants—nearly a hundred—it was already challenging to distribute them across Westeros and the Free Cities. Valyria’s ongoing restoration also required significant manpower, leaving Slaver’s Bay under the capable governance of Missandei.
Now in her forties, Missandei had beco a respected administrator. She had married a nobleman from ereen and raised a family of her own, yet she remained fiercely loyal to the Targaryen cause. As Viserys and Dany walked with her in the Garden, Missandei greeted them with warmth and admiration.
“Your Grace looks as young as ever,” she said, her tone filled with both respect and wistfulness. Her gaze lingered on Dany and Viserys, reflecting not just blessings but also a trace of envy.
After all, as mortal years began to show on her own features, it was only natural to feel a pang of longing for the tiless beauty that her rulers still possessed.
Upon learning that Viserys and Dany were planning a journey to the Shadow Lands, she voiced her concerns.
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