Game of Thrones: The Bronze and Fire Lord

The sun was setting.

The queen's tent opened, and a small figure stepped out.

"Serving someone really isn't easy,"

Aemon murmured softly, stretching with effort. He wiped his tears away, but couldn't quite hide the traces of sadness.

"What did you just say?"

Alicent followed closely behind, ducking slightly as she exited the tent.

Aemon immediately changed his tune. "I said that serving the queen isn't hard at all."

"Really?"

Alicent gave him a teasing look and couldn't help but laugh aloud.

He's such a little rascal—always saying just the right thing.

Aemon grinned, but didn't dare push his luck.

Women truly were incredible—especially beautiful ones.

She had been crying just moments ago, and now she acted as if nothing had happened.

"Your Majesty, the king has returned from the hunt. He appears to be in a foul mood,"

Ser Alec reported respectfully with a bow.

"Thank you, Ser Alec,"

Alicent responded with poise.

Aemon glanced toward the entrance and quickly said, "You go ahead, I'll take another lap."

One persuasion done—on to the next.

"Alright, I'll go first,"

Alicent nodded gently.

But she didn't walk away. Instead, she tilted her head and stared at Aemon for a long moment, as though trying to see straight through him.

Aemon stiffened under her gaze, fearing his grand plan had been discovered.

The air grew tense.

Then, suddenly, Alicent said seriously, "Don't trust Rhaenyra. She's selfish and foolish."

"If you get too close to her, you'll bring disaster on yourself. It won't end well."

Aemon was momentarily stunned.

What a blunt threat—though strangely, there was a grain of truth in it.

"Do you understand?" Alicent asked.

"Yes!" Aemon responded instantly.

"Good."

A hint of a smile reached Alicent's eyes, though her expression stayed stern. "His Majesty the Centenary King entrusted you to me. I hope you end up happier than I did."

"Of course, of course—we're the best in the world!"

Aemon nodded eagerly, like a chick pecking rice, showing full loyalty.

Only then did Alicent turn and leave, satisfied.

Watching her slender figure disappear into the distance, Aemon let out a sigh of relief.

He had managed to get through it.

He was a man playing both sides—black and green. There was no way he'd tie himself to one tree.

Life was like a play—it all depended on the acting.

"Farewell, sirs!"

Aemon waved cheerfully as he headed toward the bonfire in search of Rhaenyra.

The two white knights nodded respectfully, full of admiration for the young prince who had managed to charm the queen.

At such a young age, he already knew how to win over women.

Pity both knights had sworn oaths of celibacy. Otherwise, they'd be begging him for pointers.

Night had fallen.

The bonfire blazed, and the nobles gathered around it to feast and celebrate.

Aemon wandered through the camp. Passing by the stables, he stopped to wash his face in a basin.

His face was still streaked with dried tears—better to clean up before someone asked questions.

"Aemon! Over here!"

Rhaenyra called out with a smile, seated on a dry tree stump.

Target acquired.

Aemon made his way over.

But as he approached, he noticed she wasn't alone.

Laenaer sat beside her in a flowing blue gown, graceful and composed. She radiated the warmth of a kind, noble older sister.

Aemon quickly adjusted his posture and greeted her politely, "Good evening, Miss Laenaer."

Laenaer rose and curtsied slightly. "Good evening, Prince Aemon."

Aemon was startled and waved his hand. "No need to be so formal. That's too stiff."

After all, they were cousins.

Their great-grandfather had two sons—Aemon and Baelon, the "Prince of Spring Dawn."

Aemon married Jocelyn Baratheon and had one daughter: Rhaenys, the "Queen Who Never Was."

Baelon, meanwhile, fathered Viserys and Daemon.

So when it came to Aemon and Laenaer, the blood tie wasn't too distant nor too close.

But the Targaryen bloodline was limited, and Rhaenys' blood was rare and valuable.

Laenaer smiled slightly. "Alright, then I'll just call you cousin?"

"No need—just call me Aemon."

He felt being too formal would only create distance.

His name would win favor with Aunt Rhaenys, and since he wasn't competing for the Iron Throne, there was no need to act proud.

Better to have more friends and fewer enemies.

"Very well, I won't be polite then."

Laenaer nodded and sat down again with elegance.

Aemon frowned slightly.

With her here, fooling Rhaenyra might be harder than he thought.

"Aemon, I've thought it through."

Just as he was worrying, Rhaenyra suddenly spoke up, catching him off guard.

Aemon froze. Thought what through?

Rhaenyra's eyes were full of emotion as she took his hand. "Thank you for standing up for me today."

So many people had tried to humiliate her—waiting for her to stumble.

But in that moment, Aemon's small figure had stood tall in her eyes.

"You're welcome."

Aemon truly hadn't expected this.

Rhaenyra tightened her grip on his hand and said solemnly, "You were right. I can't just sit and wait. So many have sworn loyalty to me."

If the vultures want a fight, then let them have it. She would fight to the end.

She would prove she wasn't just the king's cupbearer—but the rightful heir to the Iron Throne.

One day, she'd show her father that his decision was the right one.

She would become a worthy queen.

Aemon: …

What could he say? Weren't these his own words?

How had she suddenly become so inspired?

"What do you think, Aemon?"

Rhaenyra's eyes were shining with hope, waiting for his affirmation.

Aemon opened his mouth slightly and answered sensibly, "Yes. That's exactly it."

Good! She had fighting spirit!

With that, he wouldn't have to waste time explaining the value of ambition.

Rhaenyra had always lacked a sense of self-worth.

Queen had died suddenly, and Daemon—once first in line—had been cast aside. The succession had unexpectedly fallen on Rhaenyra.

At the time, she had been afraid her parents would neglect her once she had a younger brother.

She couldn't believe she had become the heir.

But now, finally, she could face herself and step into her rightful role.

Better this than the trajectory of the original timeline, where she was forced onto the throne, gave in to indulgence overnight, embraced her female identity, and tried ruling in her own way…

…including marrying and producing three illegitimate Strong sons.

That web of lies only led to chaos.

Even if many of her descendants were powerful and skilled dragonriders, they could never sit the Iron Throne due to their questionable lineage.

But now—why had she suddenly gotten smart?

Aemon was full of doubt and instinctively glanced at Laena from the corner of his eye.

Could it be her?

Sensing his look, Laena smiled slyly and gave him a flirtatious wink.

Aemon's expression froze. "I'm heading to bed now," he said quickly.

This woman didn't seem like a simple character!

Anyone who became the third rider of Vhagar was bound to be formidable.

He couldn't afford to offend her. Better to retreat.

"Wait."

Rhaenyra didn't let go.

Aemon kept up his honest façade and asked with concern, "Is there something else?"

"Of course."

Rhaenyra's face grew serious as she warned, "Stay away from Alicent. She has no shame, no bottom line. She betrayed her best friend."

"If you get close to her, she'll sell you out and still count the money."

Aemon was baffled. Why did that sound so familiar?

"Did you hear me?" Rhaenyra asked sternly.

"Yes."

Aemon nodded quickly, patting his chest in reassurance. "Don't worry—we're the best in the world!"

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