Game of Thrones: The Bronze and Fire Lord

Ten minutes later.

Aemon came jogging back, panting.

In his right hand, he held a cane.

Aemon glanced back and said with a sly smile, "As expected of a bent-footed man—his brain works well."

Unfortunately, his legs and feet didn't.

The campfire was gradually burning brighter, and he threw the cane into the flames as fuel.

"Well done!"

Aemon was very proud and clapped his dirty hands.

Just now, he had done something big—he had snatched the cripple's cane and kicked his only good leg hard.

Larys, a mere "bent-footed," had tried to trick him into provoking Alicent and Rhaenyra, hoping to sit back and reap the benefits.

He even clearly pointed out that Alicent, whose father was about to lose power, lacked support—making her the best breakthrough point.

"Hah," Aemon sneered.

It was obvious Larys wanted him to join the "Greens" and work together to corner Alicent.

What a joke.

Alicent was his cherished family—sister, brother, everything. How could he let her be used like that?

"A second son is a second son—petty to the bone."

Aemon muttered to himself, thankful he was an only child.

Larys was probably trying to crawl out of the mud pit now.

Consider it a small lesson—a thank-you for pointing him in the right direction.

Yes, thanks to Larys's silver tongue, Aemon had seen the light!

"The Greens and the Blacks haven't even formed yet—what's the point in worrying about the outcome?"

Aemon chuckled.

It was true. Before the Greens and Blacks had officially taken shape, there was still time to set things right.

Neither Rhaenyra nor Alicent had yet risen to become the leaders of their respective factions.

The current political reality was that the royal power was suppressing the Hand and restructuring the Small Council.

Once Prime Minister Otto was dismissed and sent back to Oldtown, a power vacuum would emerge—one Alicent and Rhaenyra could seize.

Until that happened, neither of them had truly envisioned their path ahead.

"That means there's still room to maneuver."

A crooked smile appeared on Aemon's face as he walked toward the Queen's tent where Alicent was spending the night.

Not far away, he reached his destination.

"Prince, what is your purpose here?"

Two White Knights stood guard outside the tent—identical twins.

"I'm here to see Alicent," Aemon said.

As soon as he spoke, a pleasant voice came from within:

"Is that Aemon? You two, let him in."

Amid the voice came the soft, hurried sound of someone packing.

The two white knights exchanged glances. The one on the left said, "Please go in."

Aemon flashed a sweet smile. "Thank you, Ser Arryk."

Arryk was momentarily stunned. He didn't expect the little prince could tell him apart from his twin.

"I've got sharp eyes. Good at archery too," Aemon laughed, lifting the curtain and stepping into the tent.

The Cargyll brothers of the Kingsguard were loosely aligned with the Queen's faction.

Their duty was to protect the queen's safety.

Inside, the light dimmed.

Alicent was kneeling on the carpet, startled. "Aemon, why are you here?"

She instinctively touched the corners of her slightly red eyes, not wanting him to know she had just cried.

Aemon's smile faded. "Were you crying?"

Was it because of what happened earlier today—when he embarrassed her in front of everyone?

"No, no," Alicent quickly denied, forcing a smile.

"You're still saying no."

Aemon frowned, unconvinced. His mood darkened slightly.

He walked over and sat silently beside her.

Alicent was still far too fragile these days.

She carried so many negative emotions—guilt, shame, sorrow—with nowhere to vent, eating away at herself from within.

"I'm sorry, Aemon."

Alicent lowered her gaze and apologized, "I shouldn't have made things difficult for Rhaenyra, or dragged Daemon into it."

She didn't know what came over her.

She just wanted to make Rhaenyra lose face once, to vent all the resentment and pressure building up like a mountain of trash inside her.

She had nearly lost her only friend.

"No need to apologize."

Aemon leaned into her arms and whispered, "I know you didn't mean to hurt me, and I know you're not happy."

"How could I not be happy?" Alicent said awkwardly.

"You can fool others, because they don't care how you're doing."

Aemon raised his head, eyes serious. "But you can't fool me. You can't fool your own heart either, right?"

Alicent opened her mouth, but when she met those violet eyes, she couldn't lie to herself.

Of course she was unhappy.

She and Rhaenyra had been close friends—until she became her stepmother.

How could she not feel ashamed?

Her husband, though a king, was a middle-aged man over ten years older than her, a widower who had lost both wife and son.

There was no love between them.

And now her father Otto wanted to make Aegon the heir, dragging her onto this warship.

Defying her husband's will. Targeting her old friend.

No matter how she looked at it, Alicent—who was deeply rooted in the Faith of the Seven—could not accept it. The pressure was immense.

Snap!

Alicent could no longer hold her expression. Tears slipped from her red eyes, and she bit her lip tightly, unable to speak.

Her heart was a whirlwind of bitter emotions.

No one in the vast Red Keep truly cared for or loved her. They only called her "Your Grace" and forgot about "Alicent."

Even her own father saw her only as a tool to win favor.

In these hopeless days, she felt like a walking corpse—going through the motions, soulless.

Only with Aemon's arrival did she find a sliver of hope in life.

The two were inseparable companions—like a sister caring for her brother—living under the protection of the old King.

"I... I'm lonely."

Alicent couldn't help sobbing.

She didn't know how to go on. Her life had been manipulated until all that remained was a blank, lost path.

Sometimes, she couldn't help but wonder... if only the old King were still alive...

"Alicent, do you still remember your dream?"

Aemon pursed his lips and gently wiped her tears away.

He hadn't forgotten the reason he came.

To help Alicent break free of her chains—to choose her own path.

"My dream?"

Alicent hesitated.

It had been so long since she heard that word, so long that she'd nearly forgotten what it meant.

"Yes." Aemon cupped her fair face and said seriously, "You told me what you wanted to do when you were a child."

Alicent was lost, staring at his young face.

She vaguely remembered once saying that, when she grew up, she wanted to find a quiet place where no one would disturb her—and live with those who truly mattered.

Carefree, without burdens or worries.

"Do you remember?" Aemon asked again.

Alicent stared for a long time before whispering, "Of course I do."

"Alicent, do you trust me?"

Aemon pressed his forehead against hers.

Alicent looked into his clear eyes and nodded softly.

"Then listen to me. Let's not be bullied anymore."

Aemon said firmly, "Your father is a politician, but he's not a good father. You need to become strong for yourself."

"But he's my father."

"We all have irresponsible fathers."

Aemon reminded her, "He needs you. You don't need him."

Her position as queen gave the Hightowers their power.

But Otto was about to fall.

Alicent had to step forward—take over the Hightower legacy—transform it into a true "Queen's Party" to protect herself and stabilize the situation.

Without Otto manipulating her, she wouldn't have developed such grand ambitions.

Even if the struggle for succession was inevitable, its damage to the royal family could still be minimized.

By changing the process, they could prevent the tragedy of the Dance of the Dragons before it began.

Alicent hesitated, then summoned her courage. "What should I do?"

Maybe... it was time to change.

Aemon shook his head. "Don't do anything."

Just wait quietly.

Alicent was confused at first—then suddenly enlightened. "I understand."

"Huh?"

Aemon blinked. "Understand what?"

Alicent didn't answer. She wiped her tears and smiled again.

Her greatest enemy was her father—but sometimes, enemies fall on their own.

Viserys was already fed up.

"It's not all clean yet. I'll help you."

Aemon patiently wiped away the last traces of tears.

"Thank you, Aemon."

Alicent cupped his little face and pulled him into a hug, seeking comfort.

She had made up her mind.

Her father was once someone important to her—but she was someone important to Aemon.

Compared to the pain caused by the former, she'd rather protect her only piece of innocence.

And in the corner of Aemon's blind spot, Alicent's eyes turned sharp—

"Father... I'm sorry."

- - - - - - - - -

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