Aemon moved quickly through the stairwell.
Not long after,
He reached the floor of the princess's bedroom and saw the unguarded bedroom door from afar.
Aemon's heart skipped a beat.
Cole was as loyal as a dog and would never leave his post without permission.
Aemon walked to the door and gently pushed it open.
The room was luxuriously decorated and filled with rare items.
Aemon glanced around.
The entrance to the secret passage behind the screen was open, and cold air blew into the room.
On the round table was a rag bag containing a long, yellow goose skirt.
He reached out and picked up the skirt. The silk felt cold to the touch.
This proved that it had been taken off for a while.
Aemon stared at it for a long time and smiled. "Rhaenyra, what have you changed?"
"It's obvious at a glance, isn't it?" He threw down the long skirt and turned to leave.
People have to pay for their choices, though he didn't understand why those two made theirs.
He went out.
The cold wind blew through the entrance of the secret passageway, lifting the long skirt that had fallen to the ground.
Bang!
The door was pushed open from the outside, and the figure returned.
Aemon's face was as cold as frost. He grabbed the "Light of the Kingdom" from the fireplace and managed to squeeze out a voice from between his teeth: "Daemon!"
Anger doesn't need to be expressed in words. It just needs to be released.
...
Silk Street.
Under the night sky, bonfires illuminated the shadows.
The streets and alleys were filled with stalls and people.
There was no shortage of jugglers dressed as popular figures to attract attention.
"Aemon Targaryen!"
An artist wearing a crown shouted, showing off his knowledge. "The king's nephew, with the blood of the ancestors, is called 'Dragon Slayer' Aemon."
The audience cheered and urged him to stop keeping them in suspense.
"Light of the Kingdom Rhaenyra!"
"The eldest daughter of the Lord of the Tide and the Dragon Rider, Laena!"
The artist spread his hands, and two men wearing skirts walked out from the side.
Then, one by one, the representative figures walked out.
"Everyone knows that the marriage of great men is of vital importance."
The artist created an air of mystery and shouted dramatically: "Will 'Dragon Slayer' Aemon marry a princess from another family or the eldest daughter of the most powerful noble in the Seven Kingdoms?"
"Ah! I am the queen! How dare you snatch my man!"
A man in a skirt shouted and threw another one down.
Suddenly, the two men dressed as women started tearing each other apart, and the scene became ugly.
"Hahaha..."
The hilarious performance immediately made the audience laugh.
There's no better topic to talk about than gossip about powerful men.
The performance continued with an ethical drama.
A black-robed figure rushed through the crowd.
Occasionally, he bumped into the goods of an unlucky merchant, prompting a burst of scolding.
The black-robed figure ignored the insults and walked into a dark alley.
As he walked, the hawkers and jugglers around him disappeared, replaced by the lewd sounds of men and women making love.
A brightly lit stone building appeared.
Those agitated sounds came from inside.
Aemon glanced up, revealing his silver-golden hair under his hood.
He had shallow roots in King's Landing and no mature intelligence system.
But he knew:
Daemon would appear somewhere.
He opened the curtain and entered through the main door. The smell of cheap perfume mixed with alcohol hit him in the face.
As he passed through a moon door, he saw that the hall was full of lewdness.
Men and women were entangled, naked and panting, shouting.
Daemon walked through the crowd of naked bodies and saw many familiar figures.
"No, don't do that!"
A man dressed in plain clothes leaned against the wall, surrounded by a group of prostitutes.
Aemon looked over when he heard the commotion.
It turned out to be Cole, who was pushing away a prostitute throwing herself into his arms and panicking.
"As expected of a knight in a white robe," Aemon said contemptuously.
Aemon said contemptuously.
"Well, at least he found the right place."
"Hey, here comes a handsome boy."
One of the dignified-looking prostitutes stared at him, swinging her slit skirt to the root of her thighs to get closer.
Aemon whispered, "I'm looking for someone. I came with him."
"Everyone who comes here is looking for someone."
The prostitute had charming eyes, and she wanted to touch the face of the handsome young man.
Aemon flicked his hand open.
The prostitute looked him up and down and suddenly said, "You've grown so big."
Aemon frowned in confusion.
"At that time, you were only this big."
She measured her waist and smiled. "I came with the girl you found."
Aemon stopped talking nonsense and took out a bag of gold coins, throwing it out.
"They are on the second floor, in the same room."
The dignified prostitute put away her smile and retreated with a tactful look.
When she took the bag of money, Aemon noticed a silver ring on her finger.
Aemon noticed it several times.
This woman isn't bad. She has brown curly hair, yellow skin, and thick, sexy lips.
But appearance is not important.
What mattered was the feeling she gave him, a kind of inexplicable familiarity.
Aemon lowered his head and recalled.
It was a bit like...
The old procuress who had an affair with the young Aegon and Aemond.
"Is there only one brothel in King's Landing?"
Aemon was speechless.
Without wasting time, he went straight to the second floor.
The second floor was familiar, as was the box.
Aemon approached step by step.
Before he reached the door, a harsh sound came from inside.
Aemon closed his eyes silently.
Bang!
The door was kicked open and screams followed.
The room was in chaos at this time.
Two scantily clad prostitutes were hugging each other on the bed; they were the ones screaming.
Judging from the situation, they had just been performing.
Aemon glanced over and saw Rhaenyra in the corner.
She was blushing and being held by a scantily clad prostitute's hand as she watched the show up close.
"Aemon!"
Seeing him come in, Rhaenyra quickly pulled her hand away from his.
Her face turned pale with fear, and she ran away from the prostitute.
She was wearing patched clothes, but they were still intact.
Aemon caught a glimpse of her.
There was nothing to say.
Fortunately, there was no need to kill her family tonight.
He turned his head.
Daemon was leaning against the doorframe, holding a glass of wine.
He wore a white shirt, and his hair was slightly messy.
They were probably watching together before the door was kicked open.
Aemon's arrival made the room fall silent.
What's surprising?
This is a surprise!
Swish!
Without saying a word, Aemon pulled out the "Light of the Kingdom" and pressed it against Daemon's throat while pushing him against the wall.
"Ah!"
The prostitutes screamed.
"Get out!"
Aemon kicked their silky dresses as he walked out without looking back.
Several prostitutes didn't dare stay and ran out, holding their dresses.
The door closed.
The atmosphere became increasingly oppressive and gradually murderous.
Daemon had a bad premonition and tilted his head back slightly.
"Father, do you think you still deserve the title?"
Aemon's tone was calm and emotionless.
"It's up to you."
Daemon said lightly, "I don't expect you to bring me anything."
He had a clear conscience.
He was just following the agreement to take Rhaenyra to broaden her horizons.
Bang!
Aemon slapped him in the face with a sword and shouted, "Daemon, you are so pathetic!"
This person in front of him does not deserve any respect.
Daemon took a hard hit and grinned. "Is that all you want to say, boy?"
He didn't expect to be confronted in a brothel.
"No, there's nothing more to say."
Daemon shook his head and laughed.
The silver blade moved forward, little by little, piercing the skin on his neck and oozing beads of blood.
He wanted to kill someone.
"Aemon, don't do this."
Rhaenyra was terrified.
"It's over!
No one cares about her.
"I'm not as mean as you think, boy."
Daemon knew he was in the wrong and glanced out of the corner of his eye.
On the edge of the doorframe was a Dark Sister.
She stared at his cold gaze and quietly reached out her hand.
Puff!
Daemon's wrist turned, and the blade flashed silver.
Before Daemon could react, the blade cut a line of blood on his wrist, and blood gushed out.
The blade did not stop.
With a swish, it cut open his white shirt, leaving a bloody mark on his chest.
The blade arced through the air and pressed against Daemon's throat.
Daemon's face turned pale, and blood flowed.
"You may not know this, but my swordsmanship is very good."
His eyes were sarcastic as the blade slowly moved forward.
"It's pretty good."
Daemon was stubborn and tightly grasped his bleeding right wrist with his left hand.
His tendons were broken.
The hand holding the sword.
"Don't pretend that you don't care. You've never been a positive person."
Aemon shook his head in disappointment. "Is your obsession so deep that you'll hurt anyone and everyone?"
He didn't understand.
The other party obviously had everything.
Why was he still greedy?
He didn't hesitate to hurt Aemon, Rhaenyra, and Viserys either.
They were already the only relatives he had left.
Daemon pretended to be calm. "You and I want the same thing. There is no difference," he said.
"For that iron chair?"
Aemon couldn't believe it and said angrily, "Have you ever thought about how you'll face everyone after tonight? Is the Iron Throne so important?!"
They are Targaryens; their blood is thicker than water.
After tonight's fiasco, how will they look their uncle in the eye tomorrow?
How should he look at Rhaenyra?
Daemon seemed stimulated and argued, "This is the difference between you and me. Viserys and the Sea Snake didn't do anything to you. They all like you."
His tone was indignant, and it wasn't hard to hear a hint of jealousy in it.
Aemon was slightly stunned and replied, "You should be glad you didn't touch her."
As he spoke, the blade slowly moved away.
He had seen through the man in front of him.
He was a pitiful person who lived for the approval of others.
To prove himself, he even regarded his own son as an obstacle.
Daemon breathed a sigh of relief but did not realize his mistake.
Aemon treated him coldly, saying, "Whatever I want, I will use bronze and fire, not mean means."
This is the essential difference between father and son.
Bang!
The door was knocked open, and Cole rushed in.
"Your Highness?"
His hat was crooked and he was in a hurry.
Aemon glanced at him, noticed the wetness of his crotch, and sneered. "Haha, what a white knight."
Tonight is really exciting!
These messes have almost made him immune.
Cole's face turned blue and purple.
Thinking of the wolf-like prostitute, he took off his hat and covered his crotch with it.
"Let's go."
Aemon shook his head.
His heart was dead.
He hadn't experienced much family love in his previous life, and he shouldn't expect it now.
Daemon was not worthy of being his father.
With tears in her eyes, Rhaenyra walked around the bed and to the door.
Aemon went out first.
"Princess."
Cole lowered his head and stood in front of Rhaenyra before walking out.
As soon as the two of them left, they saw a black-robed figure approaching.
Bang!
Aemon rushed into the room and closed the door tightly.
Daemon pulled back a curtain and began to bandage the wound on his wrist.
"You scum!"
Aemon rushed over like a lit firecracker, grabbed the other's short, silver-gold hair, and said,
Bang!
The hair fell to the ground, and Daemon's head hit the ground hard.
Daemon's head buzzed, and he groaned.
"Daemon, you didn't raise me for even a day!"
Aemon rode on Daemon's body, swinging his fists and hitting him repeatedly.
He couldn't let it go; the more he thought about it, the more wronged he felt.
"Why did you do that?"
Aemon asked again and again.
It was his shame to have such a father.
"Uh hum..."
Daemon was dizzy from the beating and couldn't resist.
"Remember what you said to your uncle?"
Aemon was on the verge of losing his mind. He said angrily, "I am your son, and you treat me like this."
His fists fell harder and harder on the face that looked so much like his own.
It was as if he wanted to pour out all his anger.
If he didn't do this, he would never overcome this hurdle in his life.
Bang! Bang!
For a while, the room was filled with the dull sound of fists hitting flesh.
At the same time:
Dragon Cave.
Under the dark night sky, the dome building echoed the roar of the dragon continuously.
The horrified dragon keepers patrolled around with torches.
A dragon in the pit was rioting, affecting all the others.
Hualala!
Deep in the pit, the chain was pulled violently.
"Hiss—"
A thunderous roar exploded, and Vormithor felt the driver's anger and spat out a rolling dragon flame like copper liquid.
Rumble!
The thick neck shook, and the fine steel chain broke abruptly.
Enraged, Vormithor suddenly raised his hind legs and pulled out another chain.
Like a wild beast that had lost its mind, he rushed out of the dragon pit and crawled to another.
"Hiss... Gah!"
In the darkness, Caraxes screamed sharply, his snake-like body tense.
People and dragons are connected in mind.
He also felt the pain transmitted by the rider's body and mind.
Boom—
Vormithor blocked the dragon pit. His bronze, vertical pupils were full of violence, and his jagged fangs were exposed.
Caraxes roared and took a fighting stance.
A brutal dragon fight seemed imminent.
The scene returned to the room.
Aemon stopped.
He was slightly absentminded and gasping for breath.
The body under him was out of breath and covered in blood.
The door slammed, and someone shouted loudly.
Aemon couldn't hear clearly, so he stood up with his hands on his knees.
"Cough, cough..."
Daemon coughed violently. He had been unconscious for a long time.
He was quite resistant to beatings.
Aemon smoothed his hair with his bloodstained hands and smiled with relief. "I hope that next time we meet, one of us can kill the kinslayer."
After saying that, he walked out of the room, feeling dizzy.
He might have been a little short on oxygen.
"Aemon, how are you?"
Rhaenyra looked anxious and rushed over.
Aemon turned his head and avoided her touch.
Rhaenyra was stunned.
He went downstairs without saying a word.
"Princess, we have to go."
Cole looked around; people had gathered to watch the commotion.
Without saying anything, he dragged her away.
In the blink of an eye.
Aemon put on his hood and walked through the dark alley outside the brothel.
"Prince, what happened tonight?"
Cole remained rational and knew he couldn't tell anyone. But what had happened just now was obviously impossible to hide.
"Leave me alone."
Aemon's voice was hoarse.
"But..."
Cole was anxious.
Boom!
Suddenly, gusts of wind swept across the sky, and night fell completely.
Cole looked up in surprise.
A wide brown wing covered Silk Street, blocking the shining moon.
"Hiss—"
With a roar, the bright copper dragon fell from the sky.
The brothel was full of singing and dancing when, in the next moment, it was engulfed in a sea of fire.
"Seven layers of hell!"
Cole's pupils trembled.
---------------
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