Game of Thrones: The Bronze and Fire Lord

Four Years Later:

113 AC.

King's Territory, Blackwater Bay.

"Hiss—"

A thunderous roar echoed for dozens of miles, and a massive shadow loomed over the serene sea.

A majestic dragon with bronze scales spread its wings and soared. Its body turned sharply in the air like a falling meteor.

"Dragon flame, Vormithor!"

A thin young man with silver-gold hair, bright purple eyes, and a handsome face leaned on the dragon's back. He held the handle of the dragon's saddle and shouted loudly.

Boom!

A sharp aura flashed across the dragon's vertical pupils. It opened its mouth and spat out a mouthful of copper dragon flame as thick as hot lava erupting from a volcano.

The young man looked up and smiled.

He opened his arms and rode the dragon flame upstream.

King's Landing, Mud Gate.

Countless onlookers blocked the city gate, witnessing this terrifying scene firsthand.

Everyone held their breath and felt their hearts in their throats.

"Hiss..."

In a flash, the bronze dragon stretched its neck, flapped its wide brown wings, and flew quickly around.

The thin boy leaned back and the tip of his nose brushed against the dragon's flame.

The next second—

The sticky dragon flame, like rolling copper water, splashed into the sea, picking up raging heat waves and condensing into pieces of dark metal slag.

The bronze dragon immediately flew to the mud gate along the sea surface. When it was about to reach the shore, it raised its head and flew into the air, raising strong winds.

"Seven layers of hell!"

The onlookers stared at it, their faces flushed with excitement. They clapped wildly.

The thin boy listened to the cheers, smiled, and glanced back.

"Hiss!"

A smaller golden dragon plunged down from the clouds and roared loudly, chasing the bronze dragon down to the mud gate.

In a flash, it followed suit and rushed into the sky.

Boom!

The onlookers felt only a gust of wind blowing in their faces. They couldn't open their eyes at all.

"Good!"

..."

Applause and cheers rang out again and again.

"Well done! They are a perfect match!"

Viserys stood on the city gate tower and waved his fist fiercely.

Lyonel smiled and looked up at the two giant dragons hovering in the air. He praised them generously: "Your Highness is known as the 'warrior descended from heaven,' and he is a favored son of heaven."

"Haha, this kid deserves it."

Viserys laughed and shared his joy.

In just four years, his nephew had passed the fourteen ancient dragon-riding tests handed down from ancient Valyria.

Even adult dragon riders rarely achieve this level of mastery.

In other words,

If his nephew had lived in the Valyria Empire before the Doomsday Catastrophe, he would have been one of the youngest decorated dragon knights.

Expanding the territory would be easy.

...

In the evening,

Aemon took off his black dragon-riding clothes and went to the banquet hall of the Red Keep.

"Prince!"

Two white knights guarding the door saw the young prince salute respectfully.

"Thank you for your hard work, sirs."

Aemon still loved to laugh, and his voice was as clear as mountain water.

At the entrance of the hall was a glass mirror that had been presented by the messenger from Pentos.

Aemon turned his head and took a closer look.

The person in the mirror had an outstanding appearance: a thin figure, silver hair, and purple eyes that were particularly bright—just like stars falling into dust.

Especially in terms of height.

At a young age, he grew to 5 feet 9 inches, nearly 1.8 meters.

"Huh, let's see who still calls me a dwarf."

Aemon snorted lightly and walked with his head held high.

Time is like a deformation and reorganization machine.

Some people grow up, and some people think it through.

Clearly, His Royal Highness has inherited the inhuman beauty of the Targaryen family.

Soon, dinner began.

Aemon generously sat down, picked up the knife and fork, and waited for the meal.

"Don't be impatient; the dishes are here."

Beside him, Rhaenyra smiled and spoke with a clear, crisp voice.

Aemon smiled.

He really wanted to tell the other party, "Do you know how much a big potato needs to eat?"

Rhaenyra had no idea. She rested her chin on her hands, still recalling the dragon-riding performance from earlier that day.

It was Aemon's suggestion.

He wanted to show off his strength and let the Seven Kingdoms know that the royal family is not to be trifled with.

After a while, the others arrived one by one.

"Aemon, you've been in the spotlight today."

Viserys walked briskly with a smile on his face. The more he looked at his nephew, the more satisfied he became.

The only thing missing was a stone sculpture to place on the bedroom table and collect as a figurine.

"It's really good."

Alicent followed, followed by a string of children.

Aemon glanced at them and secretly smacked his lips.

There were three little ones in total: two boys and a girl.

Six-year-old Aegon, four-year-old Helena, and three-year-old Aemond.

That's right; the future "One-Eyed Aemond" had arrived.

Perhaps his uncle saw how exceptional his nephew was, so he was anxious when he returned to the Red Keep, thinking about making more children.

In 110 AC, Aemond, the third son, was born.

Even his name was based on Aegon's, with a homophonic change.

"Brother."

Seeing his popular cousin staring at him, little Aemond shrank back, hid behind his mother's skirt, and dared not show his head.

Still a little coward.

Aemon retracted his gaze and looked closely at little Aegon, who was about to climb onto the table.

Aegon had just put one leg up when he noticed the knife-like gaze and sat down quietly.

He was so scared that he broke out in a cold sweat.

As the eldest son of the royal family, he is a treasure who is loved by everyone, even if he is not as favored as Rhaenyra.

He is usually lawless and loves to bully his younger brothers and sisters.

He doesn't talk while eating or sleeping.

He finished the meal in a flash.

Aemon wiped his mouth and said, "I'll go back to the Vale tomorrow."

"What?"

Viserys said angrily when he heard it. "Lady Rhea usually only knows how to hunt. You won't meet her when you go back."

Aemon smiled bitterly and said, "No, I have something to do when I go back."

Thanks to their unreliable parents, his uncle has become possessive of him.

If not for them, they would probably fight for custody.

"What can you do? Runestone City is not your domain."

Viserys frowned and said, "King's Landing has everything. It's not too late to go back when you come of age."

His nephew is only thirteen years old and shouldn't waste his youth in the closed and conservative Vale.

The royal family needs him more.

"I'm going back to raise my own flag," Aemon said seriously.

Aemon said seriously.

Then, he said the words he had prepared long ago.

Since his trip to Driftmark, he has been traveling back and forth between King's Landing and the Vale.

Everything in the Vale is normal, and his mother, Lady Rhea, is in good health, so he doesn't have to worry about her.

He spends more time in King's Landing. There, he learns dragon-riding skills, feeds Vormithor to strengthen their bond, and reads books about the dragon kings of ancient Valyria.

He also has to find time to ease the conflict between Alicent and Rhaenyra.

The two women are naturally hostile toward each other.

After the Velaryon family died out, Daemon returned to the Stepstones and proclaimed himself king.

Without external pressure, the tension between the two factions at court intensified.

Because of his presence, the slogans of the black and green parties have yet to spread.

It is better to ease than to block.

As little Aegon grows older, more and more people are secretly fanning the flames.

"If I don't leave now, I'm afraid there won't be any peace."

Aemon complained in a quiet voice, looking at the two women who ignored each other.

Alicent is better off; she has three children to take care of.

Throughout the whole process, Rhaenyra had a cold face, standing there like a wooden man.

From time to time, she glanced at her siblings, and a hint of tenderness appeared in her eyes.

However, there was no chance for her to contact them, and she couldn't speak.

She insisted on maintaining her dignity as the heir to the Iron Throne.

"Rhaenyra, Aemon is leaving. You can ride the dragon to see him off."

Alicent held her daughter in one hand and smiled as she looked at the other side.

Rhaenyra frowned and said, "I'll do what's right, and you don't need to pretend to be good."

"Whatever you want. I'm just suggesting."

Alicent said angrily.

Viserys frowned unhappily at the two of them, but more at Rhaenyra.

His daughter's attitude was tougher, and her words were harsh and uncomfortable.

"It's none of my business."

Rhaenyra turned her head away, unwilling to see her father's disappointed eyes.

Viserys opened his mouth to speak.

"Okay, I'll leave early tomorrow morning, and no one will see me off."

Aemon interrupted the spell, feeling tired.

He helped everyone he could.

He was neither black nor green and was not a vassal of anyone.

My uncle has four children, and his succession order has been downgraded.

No matter how good King's Landing is, it doesn't belong to him. It would be better for him to return to the Valley and raise his own second flag.

He has the title of prince, but there is no prefix for the fiefdom.

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