Game of Thrones: The King of Bronze and Fire

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the Godswood.

Under the weirwood tree, its red leaves scattered like a carpet, Aemon lay on his back, staring up at the branches. His mind lingered on the events that had just transpired.

It was so... soft.

"Aemon, what are you thinking about?"

Rhaenyra's voice drew his attention. She was lying on her side, her head resting on his legs while absentmindedly twirling a red leaf between her fingers.

"Some rogue girl," Aemon teased, his tone light.

Rhaenyra immediately turned her face away to hide the blush creeping across her cheeks. In the process, one of her delicate shoulders slipped free of her dress.

Though she tried to act composed, her youth betrayed her. The boldness she'd shown earlier had been driven by desperation.

After a moment of silence, she broke the stillness.

"My father wants me to tour the Seven Kingdoms and find a husband," she admitted softly.

Aemon wasn't surprised. He responded with a simple "Hmm."

His indifference was like a needle prick, and Rhaenyra hurriedly explained, "This tour isn't just about marriage. I want to find allies."

"That's a good idea," Aemon remarked, offering genuine encouragement.

"Aemon!"

Rhaenyra's frustration bubbled over. She slapped his arm, her voice tinged with irritation.

This wasn't her choice to make.

Feigning pain, Aemon chuckled and quipped, "If you want to go, just go. Why tell me?"

Rhaenyra's face darkened, and she began scanning the ground for stones.

Aemon glanced at her and felt a cold sweat form on his brow.

What is this madwoman up to now?

Before she could act, he grabbed her around the waist and threw her down in a mock wrestling move.

"Ah!"

Her surprised yelp echoed through the Godswood as she landed on the soft ground.

For a while, the two of them engaged in playful roughhousing, laughter filling the air.

When the scuffle subsided, Rhaenyra knelt on the ground, adjusting her disheveled hair.

"I need new allies, especially since you're going back to the Vale," she said, her tone resolute. "Alicent won't stop coming after me, and I'm going to fight her until the end."

Aemon lay back on her lap, letting out a weary sigh. "Alicent is only wary of you. This feud doesn't need to go so far."

"Humph!"

Rhaenyra dismissed his comment with a derisive snort. Looking down at him, she spoke with newfound conviction. "Power is power. Power is strength."

Aemon's eyes snapped open, startled. Her words sounded eerily familiar, like an old saying reborn.

As if reading his thoughts, Rhaenyra cupped his face in her hands. Her silver-gold hair fell over her shoulders, framing her face as she leaned closer.

"If I had enough power, you wouldn't need to leave for the Vale," she whispered wistfully.

Aemon didn't reply immediately. Instead, he gazed into her violet eyes, sensing her desperation to keep the people she cared about close.

"If I were stronger," she repeated, her voice trembling as her fingers brushed against his cheek.

He caught her wrist gently, breaking the spell. "You and I are born of fire. Dragons are power."

He hoped to guide her thoughts back toward the path of reason. Chasing intangible ideas like absolute power was dangerous and unproductive.

Rhaenyra froze for a moment, then admitted, "My dragon is too small."

Her mount, Syrax, was indeed one of the smallest and youngest dragons in the realm.

Aemon gave her an encouraging smile. "Dragons grow with time. Once I've finished establishing my foothold in the Vale, I'll take you to hone your dragon-riding skills."

The Vale's mountainous terrain was home to unruly clans and untapped challenges. It would be the perfect place for Rhaenyra to gain combat experience.

"Aemon…"

Her voice wavered, filled with emotion.

"Alright, it's time to head back," Aemon announced, cutting the moment short as he sat up.

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, tucking away the gratitude that had momentarily softened her demeanor. She adjusted the straps of her dress and smoothed out the creases in her skirt.

Her shoulder, however, remained exposed, a quiet act of rebellion.

As night fell, the castle's dining hall bustled with activity.

Aemon sat at the long table, his mind preoccupied with his plans. He needed to build his town brick by brick, eliminate the unruly mountain clans, and recruit new manpower.

His thoughts were interrupted when the others arrived.

Rhaenyra entered in a red gown, her hair elegantly styled. She took the seat beside him without hesitation, her presence commanding attention.

They exchanged a glance.

Her eyes sparkled mischievously, as if daring him to say something. She turned slightly, exposing the tightly laced back of her dress.

Aemon suppressed a smirk, raising his goblet to hide his amusement.

"Well, it seems you two are getting along just fine," said Viserys, his cheerful tone contrasting his earlier mood.

The king approached, his steps heavy but steady. Behind him was Ser Harrold Westerling, who gave Aemon a nod of greeting.

"Ser Harrold," Aemon acknowledged with respect.

The older knight smiled warmly. He had grown fond of Aemon over the years, ever since the young prince had intervened during a health scare, saving his life with simple herbal remedies.

"What were you discussing?"

The question came from Alicent, who entered the hall accompanied by her children.

Aemon's gaze shifted.

The queen had traded her usual green dresses for a striking black gown with red accents.

"You should've come earlier if you wanted to listen," Rhaenyra replied coolly.

Alicent maintained her composed smile, taking her seat. "Your father has decided you should tour the Seven Kingdoms. I'm sure you'll find many promising suitors."

The tension between them was palpable, crackling like lightning.

Aemon pinched the bridge of his nose. Sitting between the two women was a trial in itself.

"Enough," Viserys interjected, waving a hand dismissively. "No politics at the dinner table."

As the dishes were served, the king turned his attention to Aemon.

"Have you heard from your father?"

"No," Aemon replied honestly. "He's staying on the Stepstones and rarely sends messages."

The relationship between Aemon and his father, Daemon, was distant. They communicated minimally, content to know the other was still alive.

Viserys nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer. He shifted topics.

"Rhaenyra will soon embark on her tour, visiting our vassal lords and strengthening ties. It'll be a good experience for her."

Aemon offered a polite smile, showing no sign of concern.

Relieved, Viserys leaned back in his chair. The tension seemed to ease.

"I heard you're leaving tomorrow. Is there anything else you need?" the king asked.

Aemon's eyes lit up at the opportunity. "There is one thing. From the Red Keep's cellars, I'd like to borrow something."

Viserys raised an eyebrow, immediately suspicious. "What is it?"

"It's something small, tucked away in the corner. Nothing significant," Aemon assured, keeping the details vague.

Viserys hesitated, then sighed. "Fine. But nothing important."

Their conversation was interrupted by Alicent, who handed her daughter, Helaena, to Aemon.

"You'll be leaving soon," she said. "Spend a moment with her. She's missed you."

Aemon accepted the chubby little girl, placing her on his lap.

"Brother," Helaena mumbled, her tiny hands fishing something out of her pocket.

She held up a small seashell, offering it to him with an innocent smile.

"Thank you," Aemon said, genuinely touched. He gently patted her head, his heart warming at the gesture.