Game of Thrones: The King of Bronze and Fire

Criston Cole was left stunned, reprimanded by a child speaking with the authority of an adult.

Opening his mouth to defend himself, he was abruptly interrupted.

Thud!

A massive hand shoved against his chest as a towering figure loomed over him.

"You're blocking our prince's way, white-cloak," growled Gonsor Royce, his expression thunderous.

Taking a domineering step forward, he forced Cole to retreat.

Criston Cole staggered in surprise, nearly pricked by Royce's coarse, stubble-lined chin.

The commotion naturally attracted the attention of the bustling crowd in the Red Keep's courtyard.

"Something's brewing!"

People flocked to the scene, eager to spectate.

Aemon glanced up in surprise. "Gonsor, you're here?"

"Hmm."

Gonsor gave a terse nod, his eyes fixed on the defiant knight.

The three-man escort team had been left in the courtyard, with the other two busy settling rooms and waiting.

Wandering alone, Gonsor had been snacking on the Red Keep's provisions when he noticed the prince being accosted by the knight.

Spit!

Right in front of Criston Cole, Gonsor spat disdainfully, his expression radiating hostility.

Already in a foul mood, he seized the opportunity to vent his frustrations.

Criston's face darkened as he instinctively gripped the hilt of his sword.

"You can try," Gonsor sneered, grinning menacingly.

To Gonsor, life was simple—if there was a fight, he'd gladly take it.

Cole scanned the surrounding onlookers, trembling with anger.

Had it not been for the presence of so many witnesses, he might have drawn his blade then and there.

Caught between the two, Aemon's gaze lit up with admiration as he observed Gonsor's intimidating stance.

Gonsor towered over Cole, his massive frame akin to a fortress, exuding an overwhelming sense of security.

"So, this is the 'Bronze Giant' aura in action," Aemon mused, resisting the urge to applaud.

Before the situation could escalate further, a commanding voice boomed across the courtyard:

"Cole, what are you doing!?"

Aemon turned to see the newcomer, a tall, middle-aged man clad in gleaming silver armor.

With an air of authority, Harrold Westerling, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, strode into view.

Cole's expression grew complex. Bowing his head, he greeted, "Commander."

"I asked you a question, Cole—what is going on here?"

Harrold's face was stern, his tone leaving no room for excuses.

Cole's head dipped lower as he stepped back, recognizing he'd overstepped.

Aemon, meanwhile, stood by as a curious spectator, waiting to see how the scene would play out.

Turning to Aemon, Harrold's demeanor softened. "Your Highness, I trust this incident hasn't delayed you?"

Aemon waved a hand dismissively. "It's nothing serious."

He then greeted Harrold warmly, "It's been a while, Ser Harrold."

Relieved by the prince's response, Harrold removed his helmet, his imposing aura momentarily relaxing.

At that moment, another figure appeared at the gate of the Red Keep, her curious gaze fixed on the gathering.

Aemon's eyes widened slightly as he recognized her.

A young silver-haired girl in a sleek black riding outfit strode forward, gracefully removing her gloves.

Her striking beauty was undeniable—delicate features, flawless skin, and the signature silver hair and purple eyes of House Targaryen.

Rhaenyra Targaryen.

Rhaenyra tilted her head, studying the boy staring at her.

Their matching silver hair and violet eyes created an immediate connection.

After a moment, Aemon took the lead, calling out with a smile, "Rhaenyra!"

Her eyes brightened with surprise and joy. "Aemon! Is that really you?"

Her earlier irritation vanished as she strode over, her long legs closing the distance quickly.

"It's been ages since I last saw you."

Recognizing her enthusiasm, Aemon grinned back. "It's me! I saw you flying your dragon this morning—so majestic!"

Rhaenyra's expression faltered slightly. "I… didn't disturb your ship, did I?"

"Hmm~"

Aemon rolled his eyes, making it clear she already knew the answer.

"Sorry about that. I wasn't in the best mood and didn't realize you were there."

She ruffled his hair affectionately, the softness catching her off guard.

"Apology accepted—but you owe me," Aemon teased, magnanimously brushing it off.

As the two chatted, the crowd dispersed.

Harrold silently motioned for Cole to leave, the latter retreating with a sour expression.

Noticing the exchange, Aemon chose not to press the matter. It wasn't a big deal, and Cole was the only one left humiliated.

"Rhaenyra, were you just returning from the Dragonpit?" Aemon asked, holding her soft hand and looking up with admiration.

"Can you take me there sometime? I've just returned, and I'd love a tour!"

If even Balerion's skull could yield 100 essence points, living dragons must carry considerable magic as well.

It would be a massive score.

Rhaenyra naturally agreed, holding his tiny hand as they headed toward the Maegor's Holdfast.

"Of course, but it's too late today."

"Then let's go another day," Aemon said, ever patient.

Later, in the King's Chambers

By candlelight, Viserys I Targaryen reclined in a chair, chatting with ease.

"So, what do you think of my suggestion?" he asked.

Viserys, the fifth Targaryen king, had an ordinary yet kind face framed by unkempt silver-gold hair. He appeared more like a wealthy lord than a monarch.

"You mean Aemon?"

Seated nearby, Alicent Hightower seemed lost in thought before replying.

"Yes, he's an excellent choice," Viserys said with enthusiasm, flexing his bandaged finger. His mood was visibly lifted.

The king had been preoccupied with finding a suitable marriage alliance for his daughter Rhaenyra, and finally, there was progress.

Rhaenyra was 12 years old, nearing adulthood, and proposals from across Westeros had already piled high.

Alicent frowned slightly, cautiously asking, "Does my father agree?"

"Of course," Viserys replied, his smile widening.

Alicent's gaze dropped, hiding the doubt in her eyes. "Aemon is still very young. Perhaps there's a better candidate."

As Aemon's former caretaker, Alicent bore no ill will toward him but wished to keep him out of the volatile politics surrounding Rhaenyra.

Viserys leaned forward, puzzled but calm. "The council also discussed Laenor Velaryon, and he's a strong contender."

While he mentioned Laenor, his furrowed brow revealed his dissatisfaction.

Aemon, with the backing of Runestone and his connection to Daemon, would strengthen the crown's influence and heal family divisions.

Conversely, Laenor represented the Velaryons, a powerful family whose dominance already weighed heavily on the king.