Game of Thrones: The Bronze and Fire Lord

"Prince, are we going hunting?"

Sir Steve scanned the surroundings and asked.

Aemon blinked, then smiled. "Of course."

Why overthink it?

For now, he had no way to break the current deadlock. He could only hope that his uncle Viserys would help stabilize things and keep the situation from spiraling out of control.

Once he grew a little older and tamed an adult dragon, he could stand apart from both the Black and the Green factions—entering the game as a third party.

That would make things much easier.

And why not take sides?

Because triangles are stable.

"Let's go!"

Sir Steve took the reins and galloped after the hunting trail on his white steed.

Aemon's blood surged with excitement. His body felt strong, energized. "Sir, I heard there's a white stag in the royal forest. Let's try to find it."

He still remembered the strange dream he had last night.

Digging for gold under a great tree—it might be a sign.

Perhaps it meant discovering some rare magical plants… or encountering a noble white stag, a symbol of divine favor.

"No problem, Your Highness."

Sir Steve was easygoing. He reached behind him to pull a bow from his horse's saddle. "Before you train with a sword, you must first build your strength."

"Can I draw it?" Aemon was intrigued.

When he'd thrown a bottle earlier, he was surprised at how accurate his aim had been.

"This is a standard wooden bow. Just right for you."

Sir Steve grinned and began instructing him in the basics of drawing a bow while on horseback.

Aemon listened attentively and quickly picked it up.

With a creak, the bowstring was drawn to a full arc. It really did take effort.

Elsewhere in the royal forest, many nobles were gathered.

According to Prime Minister Otto, a white stag with fur as smooth as silk had been spotted in the woods. All the nobles wanted to capture it as a gift for the king.

For a while, the forest was filled with noise and excitement.

In the King's Tent

"I did not name Rhaenyra as heir on a whim. The lords of the realm should remember that."

Viserys's expression was grim as he dismissed the gathered nobles. "Thank you for your gift, Lord Jason."

Lord Jason, caught off guard, quickly bowed. "Of course, Your Majesty."

The Lord of Casterly Rock—handsome and blond, identical to his twin brother—left the tent in embarrassment.

He was likely still brooding over his earlier misstep.

Viserys took a deep gulp of golden wine, his face dark with suppressed fury.

He had just finished speaking with Laena, who had come uninvited.

The girl who nearly became his second wife was now graceful, with her mother's beauty and her father's cunning.

Her reason for visiting was simple: to explain that her uncle Vaemond's plea for aid was made without the family's consent.

If help were truly needed, she and her mother Rhaenys would mount their dragons and act themselves.

It was a tactful statement—but in Viserys's ears, it sounded like a veiled threat.

Thanks to her cousin Rhaenys—once in line for the throne—Laena's children also had the right to tame dragons.

Now, the Velaryon family possessed over half of the realm's fleet… and three dragons.

Meanwhile, after Daemon's exile, the royal family was left with only Rhaenyra as a dragonrider.

But she was still a young girl—with a small stature and an equally small dragon.

To Viserys, the Velaryons were a thorn in his side.

He forced a smile to see Laena off, only to be met by the brainless Lord Jason.

Jason shamelessly claimed he could support the royal family—so long as Rhaenyra was married to him.

He even had the nerve to suggest that Rhaenyra would be replaced sooner or later, and that marrying him would be her compensation in exchange for wealth and luxury.

Bang!

The more Viserys thought about it, the angrier he became. He slammed the armrest of his chair and growled, "Arrogant fool! You think you're worthy of marrying my daughter?"

Little did he know—before visiting him, Jason had already tried to court Rhaenyra.

After getting rejected with a greasy confession, he shamelessly approached the king.

"The hunters have sent word. The hounds have been released, and the white stag will soon be surrounded."

Otto climbed the steps and reported, "Your prize is within reach."

At that, Viserys subtly rolled his eyes.

He didn't believe for a second that there was truly a white stag symbolizing kingship in the royal forest. It was nothing but a fabrication Otto concocted to promote his grandson Aegon.

Otto said no more and quietly took his seat below the king.

Viserys waved for the servants to pour more wine and sank into his thoughts.

First, there was the plea for aid from the Stepstones—clearly an attempt to drag the crown into a mess.

With Corlys's arrival, it was no longer possible to stay on the sidelines.

Then there was Otto—Prime Minister of the realm—who was growing bolder in pushing for his grandson to ascend, disregarding Viserys's own authority.

In contrast, Rhaenyra's marriage wasn't as urgent…

But it still needed a solution.

Viserys glanced at Otto, and a plan began to form. He asked casually, "What do you think of Lord Jason's proposal?"

"He's unbelievably arrogant."

Otto sat up straight, speaking with disdain. "Not a worthy match."

Truthfully, Jason shared Otto's goal and could've been a useful ally.

If he married Rhaenyra, he would make room for Aegon.

But… he was a brainless fool.

Viserys chuckled and pressed on, "Then who do you think would be a better choice?"

"Your Majesty, you are the king."

Otto grew serious and leaned forward, speaking earnestly, "Princess Rhaenyra is your daughter. She should follow your command."

Viserys frowned and objected, "I don't want to command her. I want her to live happily."

Not every father was like Otto—willing to force his daughter into marriage.

He had named Rhaenyra heir not to favor Daemon, but because he genuinely loved his daughter.

Otto paused, then lowered his voice. "Besides Casterly Rock… there is another option. One that may please you more."

"Oh? And who would that be?"

Viserys's gaze darkened, his tone sharpening.

Depending on Otto's answer, he would decide whether to remove him.

But Otto was calculating and evasive. "Closer to home," he said.

Viserys tapped his goblet, curious. "Who?"

If Otto said Aemon, it meant they were still aligned—no need for rash decisions.

"It's right in front of us."

But Otto missed the chance.

He turned to look behind the king's chair.

Viserys followed his gaze—only to see little Aegon, two years old, wailing in a maid's arms.

Viserys was stunned, then burst out laughing. "Otto, he's two."

Sometimes, laughter came only from sheer disbelief.

But Otto persisted. "Announce their betrothal, and you'll silence the endless stream of suitors pestering Rhaenyra."

Viserys clenched his teeth, his anger toward Otto boiling over.

He felt as if he were being made a fool of—nakedly, shamelessly.

Otto wanted his grandson to inherit the throne, to seize the royal family's power…

And now he didn't even bother to hide it. He wanted Rhaenyra sacrificed as the price.

In the end, all of Viserys's children would become Hightowers.

Oblivious to the king's fury, Otto went on, "Better than Prince Aemon—he's Daemon's son."

The moment the words left his mouth, a chill filled the air.

Viserys's face darkened instantly, and he laughed coldly. "I came here to hunt, not to be plagued by this damn politics!"

As he spoke, he mimed choking with his hand—

But in his heart, what he really wanted was to reach out…

and snap Otto's neck.

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