Game of Thrones: The King of Bronze and Fire

King's Landing.

The Red Keep, King's Bedchamber.

"This ungrateful girl! How dare she run off halfway through her tour!"

Viserys hurled his goblet to the floor, his face flushed with anger.

Only the gods knew how much effort and resources he had poured into organizing the heir's royal tour. Now, with Rhaenyra vanishing midway, what would the nobles think of the royal family?

Opposite him, Alicent spoke softly, "Calm yourself, my king. Rhaenyra isn't foolish enough to cause serious trouble."

"She should be taking this tour seriously!" Viserys bellowed, his frustration boiling over.

Alicent sighed and offered a measured response. "Where could she even go? Think about it—she's traveling with a fully grown dragon. Few places could accommodate her."

Viserys paused, the anger on his face fading into thoughtfulness. "You think she went to the Vale?"

"It's quite obvious," Alicent replied, her tone tinged with subtle emotion.

Viserys narrowed his eyes. "The Vale? Why would she go there? And since when have she and Aemon become so... close?"

"Who knows? Maybe she found the tour dull and wanted a change of scenery," Alicent said, forcing a smile as her fingers fidgeted.

Her nervous habit didn't escape Viserys. Was it jealousy? Or did it stem from her political inclinations?

If it was the former, that was manageable—Alicent had always shown affection for Aemon, and the entire Red Keep knew of their amiable relationship.

If it was the latter, then the situation was much more complicated. The court had barely stabilized; infighting now would spell disaster.

Alicent noticed her husband's scrutinizing gaze and quickly changed the subject. "By the way, did you hear? Lady Rhea has been searching for a marriage alliance for Aemon."

"When did this start?" Viserys asked sharply, his expression darkening.

"About a month ago. Under the pretense of hunting, she's been visiting various families in the Vale," Alicent replied.

"So that's what she's been up to." Viserys was visibly perturbed.

Aemon was supposed to marry Rhaenyra—that had always been his plan. Lady Rhea must know this. Why, then, would she seek a bride for him among the Vale's lesser families?

Feigning innocence, Alicent added, "Surely it's only natural for a mother to care about her son's future."

Alicent's intelligence and access to information were unparalleled. She had already deduced that Lady Rhea despised the Targaryens and wanted nothing to do with their dynasty—hence her search for a Vale bride for Aemon.

In this regard, Alicent's wishes aligned perfectly with Lady Rhea's.

Anyone but Rhaenyra. That selfish girl was unworthy of either Aemon or the throne.

"Preposterous. That ignorant woman has gone too far," Viserys snapped.

Even with his usual mild temperament, he couldn't help but curse under his breath.

He and Daemon had both married women from the Vale, forging strong alliances with the region. A future union with the Stormlands or Westerlands might have been prudent, but doubling down on Vale alliances was unwise.

Alicent piled on, "Aemon seems fully engaged in his work in the Vale. It doesn't appear he's opposed to the idea."

"Nonsense!" Viserys exclaimed, slamming a fist on the table. "Daemon's son would never agree to this. Targaryens are drawn to each other—it's in our blood."

Daemon's disdain for his first wife stemmed from pride and prejudice. To him, Rhea Royce, with her common looks and lack of Valyrian blood, was beneath him.

Viserys himself had married Emma Arryn, a Vale woman of noble birth. Her mother, Daenys Targaryen, was a daughter of King Jaehaerys, making Emma a true Targaryen descendant.

Daemon had likely hoped for a similar match, only to be shackled to Lady Rhea by Queen Alysanne's political maneuvering.

The stark disparity between his expectations and reality had driven him to extreme behavior—calling Rhea a "bronze bitch" and claiming Vale women were inferior even to goats.

Alicent fell silent, her fingers digging harder into her palm.

Because, unfortunately, Viserys was right.

Pleased with his own reasoning, Viserys let out a hearty laugh. "Let Rhaenyra stay in the Vale for a while. It'll do her some good to unwind."

"And Lady Rhea?" Alicent pressed, still dissatisfied.

"Don't worry about her. She'll fail," Viserys declared confidently.

While he pitied Lady Rhea for her loveless marriage to Daemon, her constant defiance of the crown irked him greatly. Taking her frustrations out on their son was hardly commendable behavior.

"Very well. But Rhaenyra should resume her tour as soon as possible," Alicent said, her tone softening.

"Of course. I'll write her a stern letter," Viserys promised, though his words sounded more like appeasement.

He watched Alicent relax and decided to seize the moment. "By the way, the realm has been peaceful for quite some time. After Rhaenyra's tour, why don't we host a grand tournament to celebrate?"

"That would be costly," Alicent said, though her protest was half-hearted.

"The royal treasury is full. We can afford it," Viserys said, patting his belly like a contented merchant. "We'll hold it next year, for our ninth wedding anniversary."

Ever the peacemaker, Viserys hoped this gesture would placate his wife and daughter.

Alicent glanced at him briefly before nodding. "Very well."

The Vale.

The Riverlands stretched out in rolling plains, dotted with patches of forest.

A white stag galloped across the grass, its silver-haired rider leaning low with a bow in hand.

Ahead, a hare darted through the underbrush, zigzagging with uncanny agility.

Thwack!

Aemon loosed an arrow from his dragonbone bow, which arced through the air and struck the hare cleanly in the neck.

"Excellent shot!"

Laen Corbray, wearing his signature white cloak, rode up on horseback, offering enthusiastic praise.

He had seen the prince's remarkable archery skills many times but was still amazed.

Aemon dismounted his stag and retrieved his kill.

Laen waved to the accompanying riders. "Rest here for now!"

Gonsor Royce reined in his horse and planted his banner in the soft ground.

Behind him, 800 newly recruited soldiers trudged to a halt, sweat dripping from their faces after the grueling march.

These men came from the Vale's scattered population: new settlers, former orphans from King's Landing, and even a handful of Firehand tribesmen.

Ages ranged from 14 to 30, making them an adaptable and promising force.

Without warhorses, and given the mountainous terrain of the Moon Mountains, Aemon had trained them as longbowmen.

Each wore light armor reinforced with bronze and carried a curved blade at their side, along with a longbow and quiver.

"Aemon, will the next shipment of materials arrive on schedule?" Laen asked as he assisted Aemon in cleaning the hare.

"Pirate activity in the Stepstones is disrupting trade routes. The ports are heavily congested," Laen said with a frown.

Aemon nodded. "I'm working on improving the road from Raven's Ridge to the Vale. Once it's paved, transporting goods will be much faster."

Even as he spoke, a troubling thought crossed his mind.

Daemon was in the Stepstones. Would the strain of constant skirmishes drive him back to King's Landing?

He had to keep an eye on the tides of war.

Suddenly, a scout approached, shouting, "Prince! We've caught sight of some hill tribes stealing sheep!"

Aemon tossed aside his half-prepared meal, his eyes narrowing.

"Show me."