Game of Thrones: The King of Bronze and Fire

The next day.

Mud Gate, Harbor

Aemon stood tall and composed, watching as the ship carrying craftsmen set sail into the horizon.

"You're leaving too," Alicent said softly, her gaze filled with reluctance. She clearly wished he would stay a few more days.

"I'll make time to come back," Aemon replied with a small smile, his eyes drifting to the three little children at her feet.

Aegon was busy crouching down, inspecting the cracks between the stones with an air of exaggerated curiosity.

Helaena clung shyly to her mother's red gown, her wide eyes peeking out as she stared at the older cousin who had taken her precious seashell. She wanted it back so badly.

Beside her, little Aemond stood close to his sister, his round eyes fixed on Aemon with curiosity and admiration. This older cousin seemed kind—and he even scolded Aegon. Definitely a good person!

"Skreeee!"

A thunderous cry broke the quiet.

A magnificent golden dragon crawled into view, stretching its long neck and unleashing a resonant roar.

"Let's go, Aemon," called Rhaenyra, dressed in her dragonrider's attire. Confidence radiated from her as she stood ready to leave.

"Coming," Aemon replied, his tone calm but firm.

Today marked the official beginning of Rhaenyra's suitor tour. Her sworn protector, Ser Criston Cole, had already led her retinue ahead to their first destination: Rosby, the seat of House Rosby.

"Your Grace," Rhaenyra said with a smirk, her words laced with challenge as she glanced at Alicent, "perhaps it's time for you to return to the Red Keep."

Rhaenyra's pride as a Targaryen shone through. Both she and Aemon could ride dragons, unlike Alicent.

"You're right," Alicent replied smoothly. Her emerald eyes gleamed as she approached Aemon.

To everyone's shock, she cupped his face and planted a light kiss on each cheek.

"If you need anything, write to me," she said in a low, tender voice. "The Hightowers in Oldtown will always assist you."

Aemon froze in place. His fingertips brushed his cheeks where her lips had touched, a thin layer of sweat forming on his forehead.

This was… quite bold.

Although the gesture didn't breach decorum, it felt too intimate—especially now that he was no longer a child.

"Travel safely," Alicent said as she gathered her children and turned to leave.

"Goodbye!" called Helaena, waving her small hand as she and Aemond walked hand in hand.

It wasn't until Alicent and her children disappeared from sight that Rhaenyra snapped out of her stupor.

"What was that!?"

With a furious cry, she grabbed Aemon's face and began furiously scrubbing at his cheeks with her sleeve.

"She's insane!" Rhaenyra raged. "What was she thinking!? First, my father—now you? What is she trying to do!?"

Aemon, thoroughly exasperated, pried her hands off his face. "Let's just leave."

"Promise me you won't return to King's Landing while I'm away!"

Rhaenyra's fiery determination burned in her eyes.

Aemon sighed but nodded.

Blackwater Bay

Whoosh!

A massive bronze dragon soared through the skies, its powerful wings whipping up fierce winds that churned the waves below.

Aemon reveled in the feeling of the wind against his face. He glanced back over his shoulder.

"Skreeee!"

Behind him, Rhaenyra rode Syrax, who darted nimbly through the air, her golden scales glinting as she skimmed the waves.

Before long, they arrived at Dragonstone.

Vermithor, Aemon's bronze dragon, descended gracefully, its enormous brown wings casting a shadow over the beach. Hot breaths escaped its nostrils, causing the sand beneath to sizzle faintly.

Aemon dismounted, his boots crunching against the ground as he gazed up at the towering Dragonmont.

To secure the Vale, he needed more than just Vermithor. The rebellious mountain clans posed a significant threat, and his newly acquired territory in the River Valley required a steadfast defense.

He had decided to awaken another dragon.

"Skreeee!"

Syrax circled above before landing beside Vermithor, her golden tail swishing playfully as she growled softly.

"Land, Syrax," Rhaenyra commanded in High Valyrian, her clear voice cutting through the sea breeze.

Syrax tilted her head curiously before obeying, folding her wings and settling next to the larger bronze dragon.

"She's a gentle dragon," Aemon remarked, a hint of envy in his voice.

Dragons bonded at birth were more obedient and attuned to their riders.

Vermithor, on the other hand, was temperamental and independent. In battle, he was a peerless ally, but outside of combat, he could be downright unruly.

"Aemon, are you sure about awakening Silverwing?" Rhaenyra asked as she dismounted, her expression tinged with worry.

"Don't worry, I've got this."

Aemon's smile brimmed with confidence.

Silverwing was the dragon of his great-grandmother, Good Queen Alysanne. Like her rider, Silverwing was known for her gentle disposition.

Even more importantly, Silverwing was Vermithor's mate.

His goal wasn't to tame her, but to awaken her and persuade her to relocate to the Vale. With two adult dragons stationed there, the region would be an impenetrable stronghold.

"Good luck," Rhaenyra said, sensing there was no way to change his mind.

"Thanks."

Aemon mounted Vermithor once more. The bronze giant let out an earth-shaking roar before launching into the skies, heading toward the smoky summit of Dragonmont.

Dragonmont

Vermithor circled the mountainside before entering a cavernous opening, his massive wings kicking up debris.

When he landed, Aemon slid off the saddle and patted the bronze scales of his dragon's jaw.

"You stay here and don't interfere," he instructed, his voice firm.

First impressions were critical when dealing with dragons.

If Vermithor awakened his mate, Silverwing would see herself as his follower, not as an independent ally to Aemon.

"Roar!"

Vermithor rumbled lowly but complied, curling his enormous body near the cavern's entrance.

Aemon lit a torch and ventured deeper into the mountain.

The air grew thick with the acrid stench of dragon waste. Each step through the sludge sent black mud splattering.

Eventually, he reached a vast chamber carved into the mountain. The walls glistened faintly from light filtering through cracks above.

There, in the center of the chamber, lay Silverwing.

The silver-gray dragon was coiled upon herself, her large head resting on the tip of her tail. Her massive chest rose and fell with each deep, rumbling breath.

"Silverwing…"

Aemon's heart swelled with excitement.

She was a stunning sight to behold. Her metallic scales shimmered under the faint light, smooth and unblemished except for a broken horn on her lower jaw.

Even in sleep, she exuded a majestic aura.

Taking a deep breath, Aemon stepped forward.

"Look at me, Silverwing," he said softly.

The dragon's eyes snapped open, revealing sharp, cold pupils that locked onto him.

Aemon froze, his body instinctively tensing under the weight of her gaze.

Then, mustering his courage, he raised his hand slowly.

"Look at me," he repeated, his voice steady.