Game of Thrones: The King of Bronze and Fire

When the king made up his mind, refusal was not an option.

Viserys beamed with satisfaction, laughing heartily. "Excellent! Lord Commander, do you have someone in mind for this role?"

"Uh..."

Harrold was momentarily speechless, his mind racing to sift through potential candidates.

The Kingsguard was a select group, their prowess measured by martial skill. Though still formidable, Harrold himself was past his prime and often remained by the king's or princess's side.

Among the rest, Ser Criston Cole's martial ability was undoubtedly the highest.

He had famously defeated the Cargyll brothers, fellow Kingsguard members, during a tourney. Criston was now at his peak strength and agility.

However, he was also the princess's sworn protector, highly favored by her—a status that could complicate matters.

Harrold frowned, torn over the decision. The other Kingsguard, Ser Lorent and the Cargyll brothers, were also strong contenders, able to handle ten men at once if needed.

They were indispensable in guarding the king.

That left only two others...

Finally, Harrold settled on someone and leaned closer to whisper his recommendation into Viserys's ear.

"Ah, him."

Viserys nodded in realization, then turned toward one of the white-cloaked knights stationed at the door. "Ser Steffon, your king requires your service."

Aemon, who had no say in the matter, turned his gaze toward the doorway.

Of the two Kingsguard standing there, the one on the right was the same knight who had earlier driven the royal carriage to pick him up.

"Yes, Your Grace!"

Ser Steffon Darklyn strode forward with practiced grace, his expression earnest.

Viserys adjusted his robes and adopted a serious tone. "From this day forward, I would like you to take on the role of knightly tutor to Aemon Targaryen. Guide him in the ways of becoming a true knight."

"Train Prince Aemon?"

Ser Steffon froze, visibly caught off guard. He had not anticipated this turn of events.

Having issued his command, Viserys added, "If there are any inconveniences, feel free to speak up."

"Don't hesitate," Harrold said solemnly, chiming in.

Ser Steffon quickly composed himself and replied with due formality, "It would be an honor, Your Grace."

Viserys was known for his leniency and willingness to accommodate those around him, but once a Kingsguard donned the white cloak, personal reservations had no place.

"Excellent."

Viserys patted Steffon on the shoulder, then turned to his nephew with a grin. "Well, Aemon, what do you think? From now on, this Kingsguard will be your teacher."

Having a member of the Kingsguard as a tutor was no small privilege.

"It's an honor," Aemon replied, standing up with a serious expression that belied his chubby cheeks.

There was no reason to refuse, nor could he afford to. In this era, the Kingsguard were still a force to be reckoned with, unlike the diluted ranks of future years.

At his tender age, having such a steadfast protector could only be a blessing. If nothing else, it was a safeguard against meddling relatives.

"Splendid!"

Viserys's smile widened, his affection for his nephew growing with each passing moment. He couldn't help but feel a deep sense of joy and satisfaction.

Blood ties ran deep.

In the past, Viserys had been somewhat distant from his young nephew, preoccupied with securing his throne.

But now that his lineage had expanded, he felt compelled to be a better uncle.

He studied Aemon's round, fair face and found it utterly endearing.

Much more agreeable than that unruly brother of his, Viserys thought with a private smirk.

Meanwhile, Aemon quietly resumed his meal, his thoughts elsewhere.

"What a good child," Viserys mused to himself, content with his decision.

The Next Day

A celebration was held for Prince Aegon's second name day, serving as a prelude to the royal hunt.

Guests from all over the realm gathered, filling the Red Keep to capacity.

"Goo-goo gaa-gaa~~"

A gaggle of nobles crowded around the star of the day, cooing and fussing over him.

Baby Aegon, nestled in the arms of a plump maid, squirmed while Alicent stood nearby, proudly accepting their compliments.

Some admired his hair, others his eyes.

"His nose looks like mine, don't you think?"

Viserys chuckled, pinching his son's chubby cheek and earning an indignant wail.

Meanwhile, Aemon hovered near the banquet table, happily indulging in the spread of delicacies.

No one recognized him, and he was free to act as he pleased.

"Your Highness," a voice interrupted.

Aemon looked up to see Ser Steffon standing beside him in his silver-white armor. The knight advised, "You're still growing. It's better to eat smaller portions more frequently."

"Noted, Ser," Aemon replied, his cheeks smeared with fruit preserves.

He wiped his mouth with a napkin, pretending to be an obedient student, though he chuckled inwardly. "You're too quick to judge, Steffon. I'm not as easy as I look."

Finishing his meal, Aemon scanned the hall for a familiar figure.

Rhaenyra had promised to take him to the Dragonpit, and he hadn't forgotten.

"Hmm, not here?"

His eyes searched the room but found no sign of her.

At that moment, a figure entered the hall, weaving through the crowd to approach the king.

"Your Grace, urgent news from the Stepstones."

It was Tyland Lannister, Master of Ships. His immaculate black attire, styled golden hair, and solemn expression exuded gravitas.

Viserys, who had been entertaining his guests, glanced over lazily.

"Your Grace..."

Tyland began, only to be interrupted by a dismissive wave.

"Not today, Tyland. This is a celebration."

"But, Your Grace—"

"Let Daemon and the Sea Snake worry about it."

Viserys turned back to his plate, determined not to let such matters dampen his spirits.

Nearby, Aemon observed the exchange with quiet amusement.

When Viserys caught his gaze, he offered a warm smile, which Aemon returned before slipping out of the crowd.

He wasn't concerned about the Stepstones. His father, Daemon, was more than capable of handling the Crabfeeder.

However, as Aemon passed through the hall, Viserys's irritation with Tyland spilled over, and the king bellowed for someone to fetch his daughter.

Alicent, already sensing where Rhaenyra might be, volunteered to find her.

"Wait!" Aemon called out, hoping to tag along, but his request was swiftly denied.

Instead, a squirming baby Aegon was thrust into his arms.

"Wait, I can't—"

"Goo-goo gaa-gaa~~"

Aegon flailed his tiny arms, clearly displeased with his new caretaker.

"Stop fussing. I don't like this either," Aemon muttered, his brow furrowed.

"Goo-goo gaa-gaa~~"

Aegon's protest continued unabated.

"Speak clearly, will you?" Aemon deadpanned, exasperated.

The battle of wills between the two princes had only just begun.