Daemon gladly accepted the invitation.
He also wanted to see how the other party would respond.
After a simple breakfast, Aemon hastily wiped his mouth.
Three people sat at a rectangular dining table, separated by three sides.
Lady Rhea sat at the narrow end, where she could see both men.
Aemon and Daemon sat across from each other in an apparent tit-for-tat arrangement.
"Don't tell me you asked me to eat in a place reeking of sheep manure just for a meal?"
Daemon narrowed his eyes with his habitual sarcasm about Runestone City.
Lady Rhea laughed dumbly, speechless.
"You've got a problem."
Aemon ignored the question and casually sipped his milk, getting straight to the point.
"My biggest problem is divorcing this bronze woman," Daemon said stubbornly.
He was polite enough not to call her a "bronze bitch" directly.
"But my uncle won't agree,"
Aemon said.
"Do you have a solution?"
Daemon's eyes flickered.
Aemon didn't answer, but changed the subject. "Your visit to Runestone City today wasn't just to discuss a divorce with Mom."
Daemon remained silent, leaning back in his chair.
Exactly.
His sudden visit to Runestone City was intended as a form of coercion. He'd even considered resolving the situation once and for all. But the Bronze Bitch was as stubborn as ever, constantly criticizing her husband's sarcasm and mocking him.
For some unknown reason, he ultimately held back.
His rationality proved sound.
The boy before him had a sharper nose than a dog and sniffed his way back, nearly cornering him in the castle.
He wasn't afraid, but it would be troublesome.
"I have a solution,"
Aemon said seriously.
Daemon's interest was piqued, but he kept his composure. "I'm listening," he said.
"Let's have a fight!"
Aemon's words were undeniably shocking.
Daemon's expression suddenly changed, becoming terrifyingly gloomy.
"Every action you take is like a child's prank for candy in the eyes of your uncle and the council."
Aemon said, baring his true feelings. "You thought that having Rhys would make others look up to you.
"You thought marrying a Valyrian woman and giving birth to a boy named Aegon would be an act of rebellion against your uncle's patriarchal authority."
"You thought returning the dragon egg and bringing the woman and child to King's Landing would earn your uncle's forgiveness and tolerance."
Every word was sharp and piercing.
Daemon's face was gloomy and uncertain, more exciting than the weather forecast.
The feeling of being exposed unleashed a deep well of resentment and anger within him.
"You are cynical and think your uncle is weak and not as brave as you."
Aemon continued his outburst, adding calmly, "You resent being the second son. You think the throne should belong to you, but you believe your uncle never intended to pass it on to you. He coerced you in every way."
"Have you said enough?"
Daemon gritted his teeth, his voice low and muffled.
He was about to explode.
"Your fundamental grievance is that your uncle didn't name you as heir."
Unfazed, Aemon vowed to explain the situation calmly. "That's why you spoke so recklessly after Baelon's death and used Rhaenyra to try to ascend the Iron Throne."
"Nonsense!"
Daemon erupted, furious. "You understand nothing."
When Queen Aemma died, his brother wept bitterly at her coffin.
Daemon stood by him, offering silent comfort and support.
After Baelon's death, he had also drowned his sorrows in brothels.
Furthermore, since his brother had no sons, he should be the heir to the throne.
Marrying Rhaenyra as a second-best option was a way to accommodate his brother's feelings.
However, Viserys was never willing to show him generosity.
Not even once!
Daemon's bloodshot eyes bulged, and he gritted his teeth in hatred: "Viserys is a hypocrite. He's jealous and fearful of me and only stands up to pretend to defend me when I make a mistake."
"But the throne is his. He can pass it on to whomever he wants,"
Aemon said calmly.
"Don't forget, I helped him take the throne!"
Daemon growled.
Viserys's throne was his by right.
"And now?"
Aemon asked without hesitation. "Rhaenyra is the heir. Below her are Alicent's three sons. You never had a chance."
"I conquered Lys. I am now King of Lys!"
Daemon spread his arms wide, emphasizing the word "king" as he pronounced himself King of Lys.
"But you are still under his jurisdiction,"
Aemon said quickly.
Daemon was enraged. "I have a new family, but he can't stand me. He just wants to control and belittle me."
"When people compare us, they always remember his good side and use me as an example."
He spoke quickly, releasing all the suppressed pain within.
He would never forget the injustice Viserys had done to him.
He was the one who forged the Gold Cloaks, turning a pack of wild dogs into trained hunting hounds.
They apprehended all the criminals in King's Landing and punished them according to the law.
What right did Viserys have to call him cruel?
His former mistress, Mysaria, was pregnant, and the maester confirmed that the baby was a healthy boy.
To celebrate, he named the unborn child Aegon.
However, because of Viserys's words, Mysaria was shipwrecked and lost the child.
However, Viserys himself married Alicent, the daughter of his sworn enemy, and fathered a healthy son named Aegon.
Who could comprehend such injustice?
"You're at your wit's end and so frustrated that you flew to Runestone City to take out your troubles on a woman who shares your fate!"
Aemon stood up too, unyielding in his confrontation.
"I want a divorce. Viserys values her more than I do."
Daemon's breath hitched, and he turned his head away uncomfortably.
"If you want to break free from your uncle's constraints, you must prove your worth."
Aemon smiled, concealing the fact that he could only vent his anger on his mother.
"What do you mean?"
Daemon sensed that something was wrong, and his eyes shifted.
Why did the other man sound like he was planning a rebellion against him?
Did he not want to be a consort? Couldn't he wait to be king?
"You and me, let's fight,"
Aemon revealed his inner thoughts.
"On a dragon?"
Daemon's eyes looked peculiar.
Aemon didn't deny it. Looking him straight in the eye, he said sternly, "I have an heir, and you have an heir. I have won everything you have. If you win, no one can stop you."
Rather than suppressing the conflict, it was better to ignite it.
This family was sick!
From the elders to the younger generations, no one was normal.
Uncle Viserys valued family ties, yet he distrusted his relatives and constantly suppressed those around him.
Daemon was chaotic and disorganized. Without the comfort of multiple marriages in his original world, he was constantly on the verge of exploding.
Aunt Rhaenys, having been denied the Iron Throne simply because she was a woman, marginalized herself.
She could see the family's flaws but was unwilling and powerless to change them.
She was just like her "Red Queen," Meleys, who was the fastest dragon but had the laziest habits.
The situation was even more severe among the younger generations.
Rhaenyra had an extreme personality and was easily influenced by her surroundings.
She worked hard to improve, but her innate talents meant she wouldn't achieve much.
With Aemon by her side, however, she had a safe haven.
Aegon had four siblings.
They say children are influenced by their childhoods.
The first three had well-formed personalities.
With proper training, Aemond, with his masculinity, might have achieved something.
Aegon was restless and irresponsible.
Helaena was absorbed in her inner world and unwilling to interact with the outside world.
The siblings were unreliable.
Now, he only had hopes for little Daeron, hoping he could be as accomplished as he was in his former life and perhaps share in his good fortune.
Otherwise, the Targaryens wouldn't thrive in ten years.
Even in twenty years, things would still be a mess.
"You want to get rid of me?"
Daemon misinterpreted the situation and sneered at what he thought was the other party's presumption.
Aemon offered no explanation, calmly saying, "I'll try to hold back and spare you and Caraxes."
"What a joke."
Daemon laughed and shook his head in complete disappointment, ready to leave.
He shouldn't have held out hope.
"This is your only chance to change the status quo,"
Aemon said calmly and unhurriedly.
Daemon paused and turned his head to glance sideways, his eyes darkening. "All right, let's do it,"
He said, striding away with resolute determination.
Aemon watched him from behind, still calm.
He recalled the first time he'd met Daemon as a child. Back then, Daemon had been perfectly normal, except for his temper.
Now, Daemon looked like a worn-down, middle-aged man, battered by society and filled with resentment.
Aemon wanted to give Daemon a chance.
He also wanted a chance for change for the family.
The two engaged in a shocking dragon duel—a Targaryen-style showdown of blood and fire—a wake-up call for the family.
His death would signify his incompetence, while Daemon's death would be his release.
A dissolute prince shouldn't harbor grievances like a woman.
"Are you mad?!"
Lady Rhea exclaimed, utterly stunned, as she grabbed her son's arm.
He couldn't even think of challenging Daemon to a duel.
That would be fratricide.
Aemon took his mother's hand, his expression firm and his tone easygoing. "When this civil strife is over, you will both be free."
"I only see one of you dying."
Lady Rhea said, her usual composure and dignity lost.
To this day, a dragonfight between equally strong dragons had never occurred in Westeros.
The only other dragonfight occurred when Balerion the Black Dread tore the young dragon Quicksilver [Correction: Likely Quicksilver, a younger dragon killed by Balerion. Gleam is not a known dragon] apart with a single blow.
Vermithor was enormous, and his reputation as the "Bronze Fury" spread far and wide.
However, Caraxes was considered an even more sinister and fierce beast.
A clash between father and son would not end well.
"I won't lose,"
Aemon said confidently.
"What about him?"
Lady Rhea looked up at her son and said in a pained voice, "You're committing parricide."
"I'll do my best to keep him alive while avoiding harm to myself."
After a moment's hesitation, Aemon promised.
He seemed to detect a hint of a different emotion toward Daemon in his mother's words.
It turned out that even a woman as resolute as his mother had a sentimental side.
"I can't persuade you, can I?"
Lady Rhea's face was serious.
Aemon didn't answer, only saying, "Spread the word: I'll wait for him in the Riverlands."
It was a pity he couldn't fight Daemon at Gods Eye Lake.
But the Riverlands would be the same.
Upon hearing this, Lady Rhea was bewildered and regretted instilling so much hostility toward Daemon in her son.
Perhaps then their relationship wouldn't have deteriorated to the point of life and death.
She didn't know Aemon's intentions.
Without the support of a powerful force, Aemon himself would have felt insane.
Fighting Daemon on Caraxes was certainly not a wise move.
But he possessed Vermithor, the most violent dragon in the family.
"I love you, Mother. See you after the duel."
Aemon patted his mother's hand, then placed it back at her side. He smiled as he walked out.
Then he soared out of Runestone City on his dragon.
Lady Rhea was still dazed. A twinkle flickered in the corner of her eye, but she stubbornly wiped it away and covered her mouth.
Her son had become her support.
She had once regretted the political marriage, but now she didn't resent its consummation as much.
Uncle Jobert was right.
At least he had left her with a child.
King's Landing.
It was late.
Viserys was alone in his chambers, slumped in a chair and staring blankly at the nearly transparent glass.
His nephew had left.
In a hurry.
Viserys had heard that Daemon had secretly gone to the Vale and had chased after him without stopping.
Viserys was worried that Daemon would do something foolish and reignite the conflict between father and son.
One was his brother; the other, his nephew.
Battles between dragon riders were bloody and cruel.
The gods most despised the slaughter of loved ones.
"Seven Hells!"
Viserys clutched his forehead in pain as unpleasant images filled his mind.
Upon hearing the news, Rhaenyra was about to rush to the Vale, but Viserys forcibly stopped her.
She was still pregnant.
If anything happened to Aemon, how would she and her unborn child survive?
How would he face Aemma after his death?
Knock, knock, knock—rapid knocks on the door.
Viserys looked up and shouted, "Come in!"
Creak!
Otto pushed the door open, his expression grave.
"What's wrong?"
Viserys demanded.
Otto hesitated, words on the tip of his tongue, unsure how to begin.
"Wait a moment,"
Viserys suddenly felt less eager to know. He raised his hand to interrupt and asked a more positive question. "Is Lady Rhea all right?"
"She's fine. She sent the message by raven,"
Otto replied gravely.
Viserys's heart dropped, and he became even more puzzled. "If it wasn't her, what else could you possibly have to report so late at night?"
Otto glanced up at him, carefully formulating his words.
Finally, he spoke slowly. "Prince Aemon and Daemon..."
After a moment,
The door closed softly, and Otto left without a sound.
Viserys was left alone in his room. His eyes were glazed over, and he muttered to himself, "Gods!
At the same time,
In the River Valley, on the Lonely Mountain,
Aemon held a torch and groped his way through the dry, sweltering dragon's lair by its light.
The ground was covered in dark dragon dung that emitted a foul, sulfur-tinged stench.
"Roar—"
From time to time, the deep snoring of a great dragon could be heard.
It was Vermithor and Silverwing.
The two dragons cuddled together and slept like an old married couple.
These days, dragons have partners.
Yet, so many are still single.
Aemon, looking helpless, covered his nose and trudged slowly through the lair.
The dragon's lair was difficult to navigate and rife with obstacles.
After a few minutes,
A ray of moonlight filtered through the gap above the lair, illuminating a five-foot-tall bronze tree.
The sacred Bronze Tree stood still, its three branches—each bearing intricately carved bronze leaves—extending outward in an orderly pattern.
Each branch, of varying heights, held a bronze disc, a bronze bird, and a bronze bell.
"Another bronze bell."
Aemon took off the bell, causing the bronze branch to sway slightly and the leaves to collide, making crisp sounds.
However, he did not stop there but looked at the bronze disc that had been keeping a low profile.
It's worth mentioning that the sacred Bronze Tree has grown from three feet high to five feet.
The tallest bronze disc was at eye level.
"What is your mysterious ability?"
Aemon said softly, as if talking to himself.
With a flip of his palm, he put away the bronze bell and took out the flaming hammer, which was not filled with fire magic.
Under the moonlight, the dark surface of the hammer gave off a metallic luster.
At first glance, it exuded an ancient and heavy atmosphere.
"Who among you is harder?"
Aemon's eyes flashed as he lightly knocked the hammer against his palm.
Clang!
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