Aemon Targaryen

-Chapter 161-

-POV Hugh Hammer-

'This is incredible,' I thought, not the least bit afraid of what had just happened.

Unlike the thousands of others screaming in terror around me.

I only felt one thing.

I had one single desire: to chase that dragon and try to tame it, to make its power mine.

Turning toward Ulf to see if he was thinking the same thing, I saw that his eyes were also shining, but… a brown stain on his trousers confirmed he didn't have the same fire burning within that I'd always felt.

'The fire of the dragon,' I thought, because I'd always believed I was worth more than what I'd been allowed to be.

'A hammer and some iron, that's all they saw.'

Prince Aemon resumed his speech and said:

"This is what the former Hand of the King wanted your fathers, your brothers, your husbands, your sons—or perhaps even you—to face."

Prince Aemon paused for a few seconds, then said:

"He was going to send you to face death for a knight's title your children wouldn't inherit, and a few silver coins. And not content with dragging the good people of the capital down with him, that viper also wanted to drag the lords of the realm and all good folk across the kingdom down too."

I felt a deep, dark anger rise from my gut as I listened to his speech, because that's how all the lords had always treated us—like livestock.

"ASSASSIN! MAY THAT FILTH BURN IN THE SEVEN HELLS!" I screamed in fury, drawing eyes to me and interrupting the Prince's speech. He turned to me, clearly having heard my cry.

He pointed at me before nodding and said:

"Quite right—and he will. But before that, I would like to show you what happens when a dragon is set against rebels. Just so you all have a clear idea of what your lords will ask of you, should they ever rise against the House of the Dragon."

I kept a neutral expression, though I was bursting with pride to have drawn Prince Aemon's attention in the middle of the sea of people I was drowning in.

He nodded to someone at the foot of the platform whom I couldn't see clearly, and then a horn sounded at the center of the stage.

The path toward the road was cleared, guarded by hundreds of gold cloaks.

And down that path came a new escort—this time, escorting numerous young men bearing on their foreheads the mark of a seven-pointed star.

'Fucking fanatics,' I thought, having already dealt with this pack of scum.

'Spawn of sin, they called me,' I thought, satisfied to see that same group of fanatics bound like the wild animals they were.

'Who's tied up now, waiting for their last sacrament?'

"There are nearly two hundred young men here who were led astray by the sweet, honeyed words of certain members of the Faith, seeking to use our own faith to manipulate and lead us down a... slippery slope," he said coldly, before finally smiling and adding:

"I've decided to grant them the grace to live as they wished…"

I frowned, not understanding what he meant.

I looked at Ulf, who had recovered from the shock and looked just as confused as I did, then turned my attention back to the Prince, who signaled his men to release the fanatics from their bindings.

I frowned, clearly disagreeing, but what could I do?

It was the Prince's decision.

The fanatics, resigned to death, looked at each other in stunned silence before standing up, just as a cart pulled up beside them, filled with hundreds of swords.

I frowned again, increasingly confused, and before I could even make sense of it, the Prince smiled and said, eyes lifted to the sky:

"They wanted to fight a dragon? Let their wish be granted."

DRAGON ROAR

I reacted to a sound coming from behind me, and that's when I saw a dragon, a bit over a hundred feet long, beating its wings rapidly.

The confusion that had taken hold of me instantly vanished, replaced by the excitement that had left me earlier but now returned in full force.

The dragon, dirty brown in color, let out a second roar and flew right past me before landing in the middle of the crowd of fanatics—half of whom hadn't even picked up a weapon, too terrified to react.

The brown dragon pulled back its head, gathering fire in its throat before releasing it, vomiting it up from deep within, turning the flesh of the fanatics to ash one by one.

'If only I were in his place,' I thought, watching the young man sitting atop the dragon, commanding it.

---

-POV Daemon Targaryen-

"He's lost his mind," the queen murmured softly, seated to my right.

The corners of my mouth lifted at the look of shock on her face, and I said, looking her straight in the eyes:

"Aemon hasn't lost his mind…"

"This is his final warning," said Viserys, eyes locked on the carnage Sheepstealer was causing.

Vicious as ever, my younger son's dragon didn't let a single fanatic get near its rider—not in any way, not even close enough to pose a threat—whether by tail strikes or by reducing them to ashes.

'Aemon trained him well,' I thought, watching how the little boy who once couldn't even climb onto his dragon's back had now become a warrior trained to fight from above.

'I need to do the same with Aegon.'

"This isn't a warning," said Alicent indignantly, before adding, "It's simply the second coming of a more ruthless Maegor."

That made me smile, because while I knew the ambition and ruthlessness he could wrap his heart in to see his plans through… if there was one thing he wasn't, it was the second coming of Maegor.

'Though he does resemble a conqueror.'

"Then it means he's understood everything," said Rhea, silencing the queen and drawing glances from all around—but no one said a word to her.

That made me chuckle softly, briefly earning a dark glare from her before she turned her attention back to the execution of Otto Hightower, which was dragging on.

'This is purely and simply a spectacle to put the crowds back in their rightful place,' I thought, looking first at the sheep gathered below us, before lifting my eyes to the noble stands—lords from all across the realm, stunned by my eldest's actions.

'Everyone knows playing with fire burns—but for some reason, they seem shocked to see dragonfire turning traitors to dust,' I thought, my smile widening as I felt the fear that had once left the lords return to them.

'They're not the ones who make us kings.'

'Our dragons do.'