Game of Thrones: The Bronze and Fire Lord

Late at night, by the bonfire.

Viserys sat alone, his face dimly lit by the flickering flames.

Sizzle!

He lifted his hand and poured half a cup of wine onto the firewood. It crackled sharply.

He was overwhelmed with sorrow—or rather, filled with suppressed grief and rage.

Earlier that day, prompted by Lord Jason and Hand Otto to relax and get fresh air, he had been pressured into joining the hunt for the white hart.

Now, he was utterly drained—body and soul.

"Are you all right, Your Majesty?"

Alicent's voice held a note of surprise as she approached slowly.

Viserys didn't turn his head. He simply poured out his heart.

"I named Rhaenyra heir to keep Daemon from throwing the realm into chaos."

Alicent froze, stunned. She hadn't expected to hear such words from her husband.

"She was my only child at the time. People called her the light of the realm."

Viserys sounded drunk, speaking with weary loss. "I chose her out of love, because I no longer believed—"

He broke off mid-sentence.

Regret seized him. Every decision he had made suddenly felt wrong.

He had loved Daemon deeply—his brother, his companion since childhood.

Before the Great Council of 101, Viserys himself had lacked confidence in being chosen over his cousin Rhaenys, despite being the heir his grandfather had designated.

That woman had inherited the wisdom and bravery of her uncle Aemon. Her husband, Corlys the Sea Snake, came from a house as wealthy as a kingdom. They even had two children, both eligible claimants.

But—

Daemon had trusted him without question. He had worked tirelessly to win over noble lords and spent lavishly to recruit mercenaries.

He'd even made a bold declaration:

If his brother Viserys didn't win the election, he would start a war, consequences be damned.

Because of this, Grandfather Jaehaerys, fearing family strife, convened the Great Council of 101.

"But how did things turn out like this?"

Viserys's eyes reddened. He bowed his head, unwilling to show weakness before his wife.

Deep down, he didn't know when his love for Daemon turned into fear.

Daemon was impulsive and reckless. He always saw himself as the true heir, biding his time for the throne.

The death of his wife Aemma and the "Heir for a Day" incident had transformed that fear into anger.

With Otto's encouragement, Viserys had banished Daemon from King's Landing.

The threat seemed to be gone.

"But it never really went away."

Viserys sighed bitterly, shaking his head.

After Daemon, the next threat was Corlys, the Sea Snake.

When Daemon was still on the Small Council, Corlys—then Master of Ships—showed him due respect as king.

But after Daemon was gone, and Viserys declined Corlys's proposal to wed Laena on the grounds of her youth, the Sea Snake's patience wore thin.

Seeing the looming danger, Viserys once again worked with Otto to neutralize it.

He married Alicent, aligned himself with the Oldtown nobles, and forced Corlys off the Small Council.

The immediate threat faded—but only retreated across Blackwater Bay.

Luckily, the rampant pirates of the Three Daughters forced Corlys to wage war in the Stepstones, letting Viserys sleep in peace for a few years.

But that peace didn't last.

Another threat soon emerged.

"What is it that you no longer believe in?"

Alicent couldn't follow her husband's scattered thoughts—she only knew it was about Rhaenyra.

Viserys swayed and brushed it off: "Nothing. Just... a dream."

He had once dreamed of a son wearing the Conqueror's crown.

The dream was vivid—like the flames flickering before him.

He had pursued that dream relentlessly, and it had cost Aemma her life.

After she died, he tried to forget the dream.

There was no son. It had been a foolish fantasy.

He had no choice but to name his only child, Rhaenyra, as heir.

He thought that honoring her might atone for his mistakes and ease his conscience.

But that hope had been in vain.

Naming Rhaenyra had only brought more pain, more conflict.

He couldn't help wondering if he had strayed too far down the wrong path.

Alicent watched in silence, then said softly, "Rhaenyra is a good girl. She's been working hard to become a worthy heir."

"What did you say?"

Viserys blinked, thinking he'd misheard.

"She has always loved and respected you," Alicent said, looking up, her voice steady. "She avoids speaking with you because she lacks confidence—she's afraid of disappointing you. But in her heart, she cares deeply."

It was a lie.

Anyone with eyes could see Viserys still favored Rhaenyra, unwilling to name Aegon his heir.

Perhaps, to him, replacing her meant admitting he'd been wrong all along.

So—why not lie? Why not say the thing he longed to hear?

She said it. He believed it. He dismissed his father Otto.

Viserys clutched her hand. "You… you really think that's how Rhaenyra feels?"

"Of course."

Their eyes met. Alicent gently slipped her hand free.

Viserys, trembling with emotion, didn't notice. He smiled warmly. "Alicent, you're such a thoughtful wife."

"I only do what a wife should."

Alicent forced a smile and helped him back.

Say what he wants to hear, and he'll always thank you for it.

Viserys remained oblivious. A quiet satisfaction filled his heart.

He felt comforted—believing Rhaenyra still loved him, reassured by his wife's acceptance.

Alicent wasn't opposing Rhaenyra as crown princess, which proved the others were wrong.

It was Otto who had been pushing too hard.

Now, with Alicent's support, he could dismiss Otto without guilt.

Once she stabilized House Hightower, things would be calm again.

Haha...

Viserys chuckled as he walked.

Alicent looked down. The tenderness had vanished from her face.

Men. Haha.

...

"Mother, I'm a man too!"

In the tent, Aemon protested loudly.

Lady Rhea, bending to fix the bedding, tossed a blanket his way. "If you're going to sleep, then sleep. If not—out."

Aemon caught the blanket and glanced at the two beds—one big, one small—with a bitter face.

The royal forest wasn't a place for luxury accommodations.

Only his mother from House Royce had come with him, so they had just one tent.

If he didn't sleep here, he'd have to bunk with William and the other boys.

"Who are you pretending for? Don't think I don't know how much you enjoy sleeping near me."

Lady Rhea shot him a glare, then added coldly, "Don't think I haven't noticed how close you've gotten to the queen and the princess. One day, it'll come back to bite you."

Cold sweat ran down Aemon's back. He chose the safe path: "I'll take the small bed, Mother."

He lay down obediently.

He wasn't trying to win maternal affection—he just wanted to be alone with his four dragon eggs.

If he kept pushing her, who knew what she might reveal?

Huh!

Lady Rhea blew out the candle and lay down, fully clothed.

Time passed.

Aemon lay tossing and turning, thoughts churning.

Thanks to his efforts, Alicent was trying to break free and stand on her own, while Rhaenyra had rekindled her fighting spirit.

With both of them rising, Otto would likely be dismissed once the hunt concluded.

Then, they would rule the capital.

But the two women were born rivals. They would turn on each other soon enough.

If he stayed in King's Landing, his act of playing both sides would be exposed, and he'd be doomed.

Just the thought made him shiver.

In the next bed, Lady Rhea seemed to be asleep, her demeanor completely different from the hunt earlier.

Suddenly, his voice broke the silence.

"Mother, are you awake?"

"What is it?"

Lady Rhea answered tersely.

Aemon: "Lend me a team of Vale knights tomorrow."

"What for?"

Aemon: "Rhaenyra invited me to hunt. I don't think it's safe."

It was a lie.

He had two plans.

First, capture the white hart—a symbol of royal power. That would definitely enhance his essence.

Second, stir up trouble and find a way to leave King's Landing.

Uncle Viserys seemed sincere about making him a child husband—but Aemon wasn't about to stay.

It was better to return to the Vale. The mountains were high, and the king far away.

There, he could grow quietly and build his power.

Looking ahead to the Dance of the Dragons, he knew the difference a strong foundation made.

Daemon and the future One-Eyed Aemond were powerful, yes—but they died as subordinates of their factions.

Once the leaders lost trust or vanished, those two were discarded.

Aemon didn't want that. He wanted to be the boss.

He would return to the Vale, build his base, and one day tame a dragon. Then, others would have to bow to him.

Lady Rhea didn't even open her eyes. She knew the boy had no good intentions.

"Be up early. Gunthor will find you."

Aemon's heart warmed. He whispered, "Love you, Mother."

"..."

After a pause, Lady Rhea muttered: "Mm."

- - - - - - - - -

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