Game of Thrones: The Bronze and Fire Lord

The Royal Forest Hunt ended early when the king returned with a full catch.

Everyone knew why.

The princess had been frightened, and the Lord of the West was nearly killed by a deer.

The king personally ordered the hunt to end, and no one dared to say a word.

...

The next day.

In the morning, at the gate of King's Landing, the White Wheel—symbol of royal travel—slowly rolled through the city gate, as thousands lined the streets in welcome.

As the heir of King Jaehaerys, His Majesty Viserys I had inherited the throne and ruled over the most prosperous dynasty in history.

There was no war, no famine.

The people lived in peace and contentment, loving the "young king" dearly and supporting House Targaryen wholeheartedly.

"Dabai, don't eat other people's food."

Aemon followed behind the White Wheel, gripping a handful of silky white mane.

"Yo yo."

The white deer, graceful by nature, resisted its craving and turned away from the red apples on the fruit stall.

Its slightest movement sent its massive antlers, each over three meters wide, swaying like a pendulum—intimidating and majestic.

"A white deer!"

"It's the white deer that symbolizes kingship…"

…

Such a rare and magnificent beast instantly drew everyone's attention the moment it entered the city. The people erupted in cheers.

Just look at those massive antlers, the sleek and noble figure, and those wise, crystal-clear eyes—

That was a real white deer.

The king had truly captured it and brought it back to King's Landing.

Wow!!

"Yo yo."

The white deer walked slowly forward, its noble bearing earning it countless admiring gazes.

Aemon sat atop its back, both hands holding the saddle reins.

Fair-skinned and strikingly handsome, his short silver-gold hair draped over his shoulders. His purple eyes shone brightly, and he wore a black ceremonial outfit.

Behind him—

Ser Steve rode a white horse, carrying the red three-headed dragon banner.

Gunthor rode a black horse, bearing aloft a banner of "a pile of pebbles between two rune lines on an orange field."

The crowd instantly understood—

It was the perfect embodiment of the dual heritage of House Targaryen and House Royce.

Further back, dozens of Vale knights in iron helms marched in solemn formation on either side.

The onlookers gasped and then fell silent.

High profile! Extremely high profile!

Aemon glanced around, nodded to himself, and straightened his back even more.

This was exactly the effect he wanted.

Riding a white deer—how could he possibly stay low-profile?

Why not take it all the way and give Uncle Viserys, who had been hunting a wild deer, something to brood over?

The nephew had captured the white deer, showing off the bearing of a true king for the first time. Not only was it more impressive than Daemon leading the Gold Cloaks to restore order in King's Landing, but it also won the hearts of the people.

Now let's see how His Majesty, troubled over the matter of succession, would handle this.

Aemon's eyes gleamed as he murmured to himself, "Isn't he trying every possible way to drive me away?"

Inside the White Wheel's ornate royal carriage—

Viserys, feeling stifled, quietly lifted the curtain to peek at his nephew's radiant, high-spirited display.

So heroic.

Even more dazzling than his younger brother Daemon—he certainly knew how to command attention.

This scene was…

"Exactly like the son I saw in my dreams."

Viserys' eyes dimmed, his expression complicated, and he lowered the curtain quickly.

Damn Daemon. What a lucky bastard.

...

Red Keep.

Conference Hall.

At noon, a royal meeting was held behind closed doors.

Bang!

The heavy doors slammed shut as ministers filed in one by one.

"Everyone," Viserys said from the high seat, looking around with a smile, "what reward should we give young Aemon?"

The table was long and rectangular.

At the first seat to the king's left sat Prime Minister Otto, upright and composed.

To the right, the Minister of Justice, Lyonel, hurried to his place and dropped the stone ball—his symbol of office—into the slot before the king.

Two other seats on that side were occupied by Grand Maester Melos and Lord Linman, Minister of Finance.

Opposite the king, seated at the narrower end of the table—

The position once held by the Sea Snake, Lord Corlys Velaryon, was now taken by the youngest and least experienced, Tyran.

At the king's question, expressions shifted around the room.

Linman, the eldest, his brow furrowed with age, hesitated and said, "Your Majesty, he is your nephew, so naturally he should…"

He hadn't finished when—

"Your Majesty, I have a suggestion," Otto interrupted smoothly, as if he had anticipated the king's thoughts.

Linman blinked in frustration and fell silent.

Viserys glanced at him briefly but said nothing. Smiling, he gestured to Otto: "Go on. Aemon saved both Rhaenyra and Lord Jason."

"That was no small deed. He deserves proper recognition."

Otto's gaze was deep and unreadable. "Though young, Prince Aemon has shown determination and bravery. A reward in the form of land might be most appropriate."

"Prince Aemon doesn't have a fief," Tyran chimed in with a strange expression.

Otto paused, glanced coldly at the young man, and said lightly, "He will."

Tyran smiled awkwardly.

Viserys considered this and waved his hand. "Continue."

Otto adjusted his robes, speaking solemnly, "Prince Aemon will eventually return to the Vale. He will need resources—gold, silver, gems—to support him."

In a few words, he had politely suggested sending the boy away from King's Landing.

"Gold, silver, and gems…" Viserys murmured, then shook his head.

"It could also be…"

"Your Majesty, Prince Aemon has only just returned to King's Landing," Lyonel interjected sharply, cutting Otto off just as Otto had cut Linman off earlier.

Otto frowned, the subtle tension between them growing.

Viserys seemed to suddenly realize this and responded warmly, "Aemon has just returned to his family. I find myself quite fond of him."

"Exactly," Lyonel added seriously. "We could simply ask what he wants. Children aren't greedy."

Viserys nodded thoughtfully.

Otto said in a heavier tone, "We can't judge by age alone. He is Daemon's son—and shows the same impulsive nature."

He had overshadowed the royal family by riding a white deer into the city.

Now, rumors were already spreading like wildfire across Silk Street and Flea Bottom.

Viserys's expression tightened.

He wanted to keep his nephew—his brother's only child—close by.

But Aemon was too exceptional.

Neither Rhaenyra nor Aegon could outshine him.

"He's still young. He can be guided," Lyonel argued.

The safest option was to keep him within reach.

Otto remained firm: "Who can guarantee he won't become another Daemon—and threaten the princess's claim to the throne?"

As things stood, Aemon—great-grandson of the Old King—remained a strong contender.

Only Daemon and Aegon stood above him.

The others kept silent.

The meeting had turned into a heated duel between the Prime Minister and the Minister of Justice. These two, who had never clashed before, now stood at odds.

"Enough!"

Viserys slapped the table, his tone anxious. "That's enough. I'll speak to the boy myself."

Seeing the king's displeasure, both men fell silent.

The meeting soon concluded.

...

The Queen's Chambers.

Knock knock!

A knock came at the door. Alicent rose to answer it.

Aemon rushed in like a cannonball, flinging his arms around her soft waist and exclaiming, "Alicent, you have to help me!"

He wanted to leave King's Landing and return to the Vale.

But before he left, he needed to secure enough rewards—he couldn't depart in disgrace.

It takes a thousand days to raise a sword, but only a moment to draw it.

Now was the time to cling to her influence.

- - - - - - - - -

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