Game of Thrones: The King of Bronze and Fire

Smack!

As they reached the dragonpit's entrance, Rhaenyra wasted no time in delivering a sharp slap to Aemon's backside.

"Ah!" Aemon yelped in pain, but his eyes remained glued to the space behind him, frustration etched across his face.

What went wrong? No one had said that dragons could outright ignore people!

Seeing his indignant expression, Rhaenyra, her face red with anger, yelled, "Aemon, you almost lost your life back there!"

The dragon had clearly rejected him, yet he still insisted on pushing his luck. That was sheer recklessness.

"She didn't attack me," Aemon replied earnestly. "She wasn't even trying to hurt me."

He had been anxious earlier, but when he stood in front of Dreamfyre, he felt something—a faint connection, a sense of emotion emanating from the massive creature.

What he sensed was indifference.

Not outright rejection, not aggression, just a complete lack of interest—toward him and his efforts.

Rhaenyra's chest heaved with exasperation. "You are not to act so recklessly again!"

Her voice shook with emotion. No one, not even Daemon, had been this audacious in taming a dragon. If anything had happened to Aemon, how could she ever face his parents or her own father?

Aemon lowered his head, guilt creeping in. "I'm sorry. I won't do it again."

It wasn't that he regretted attempting to bond with Dreamfyre—he regretted worrying Rhaenyra so much.

Thinking back, his actions were indeed perilous. He shouldn't have rushed in so blindly, letting his instincts take over.

"Good," Rhaenyra said with a sigh, pressing a hand to her chest as she tried to calm down. "As long as you understand."

Her voice was tinged with exhaustion. She didn't have the energy to argue anymore.

Aemon stood quietly, his feet scuffing the ground as he traced small circles with his toes.

The danger had been worth it, though. It hadn't been all for nothing.

Just moments earlier, the familiar chime of his magical interface had rung out:

"You have encountered a powerful magical creature and absorbed a fragment of blazing fire magic."

He stole a glance at Rhaenyra, who was still glaring at him, then quickly summoned his Magic Essence Panel.

[Aemon Targaryen]

Talent: Dreamer (Gold)Bloodline: Ancient Valyrian Dragonlord (18%)Skills: High Valyrian (Fluent), Arithmetic (Proficient)...Magic Cards: NoneCompanion: Golden-Nosed Mouse (Blue)Status: "A well-nurtured human child with the potential to become a powerful warrior."

Aemon noted with excitement that his bloodline purity had increased by 5%, and a new Companion Slot had appeared on the interface.

Flipping to the Magic Card interface, he saw that only one card, [Light-Fingered], remained unclaimed. His gaze quickly moved to the golden hourglass at the bottom of the screen.

Magic Essence Points: 168

His excitement soared. Dreamfyre's fire magic had provided him with an additional 100 points of essence!

"Bloodline enhanced, essence gained… Totally worth it," Aemon thought with satisfaction, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"Your Grace, please step outside immediately," the elder dragonkeeper interrupted, his face pale as a sheet.

The thought of a Targaryen heir suffering harm in his dragonpit was enough to make his stomach churn. The last time he had felt such terror was during the infamous escapade of "Bold Baelon."

Aemon closed the interface, though his reluctance to leave was palpable. He cast a final glance at the dragonpit, unwilling to part with the majestic creature that had bestowed upon him such a generous gift.

Dreamfyre had rejected him, but the fire magic she had given him—whether consciously or unconsciously—was not a trivial thing.

The dragonkeeper mistook Aemon's hesitation as a desire to try again, his expression growing increasingly anguished. "Your Grace," he implored, "your father mounted a dragon when you were only four years old. You still have time."

Most Targaryens bonded with dragons well after childhood. While some formed connections with hatchlings from the cradle, many didn't attempt to ride until at least ten years old, with the majority waiting until adulthood.

Aemon shook his head. "It's not that. I just have another request."

The elder dragonkeeper's brow furrowed. "What is it?"

"Dreamfyre seems restless," Aemon said thoughtfully. "Could you unchain her and allow her a moment of freedom? Let her fly."

"That would be dangerous," the dragonkeeper warned, his tone resolute.

Aemon had already considered the risks. "She's not angry; she's simply reclusive. She hatched here in King's Landing as a symbol of prosperity. Letting her fly for a short while won't cause harm."

The dragonkeeper fell silent, his expression conflicted.

Dreamfyre was, after all, one of the oldest dragons alive, second only to Vhagar. With wisdom and experience accrued over her long life, she was unlikely to act recklessly.

"It's true," Rhaenyra suddenly interjected. "If she flies away, she'll only return to Dragonstone."

Aemon turned to her, surprised by her support.

Rhaenyra huffed, crossing her arms. "I'm not helping you—I just hate seeing a magnificent dragon caged like this."

Aemon grinned, pleased nonetheless.

With both royal heirs advocating for the dragon's release, the dragonkeeper finally relented. "Fine. We'll see to it, but Your Graces must wait outside."

"Understood!" Aemon replied enthusiastically, grabbing Rhaenyra's soft hand and giving it an affectionate shake. His playful grin returned.

Despite her irritation, Rhaenyra allowed herself to be dragged along. Aemon's exuberance was hard to resist.

Outside the Dragonpit

As the bronze gates creaked open, sunlight streamed onto their faces, and a gentle breeze rustled their hair.

Aemon squinted against the bright light, feeling a newfound sense of ease.

"Next time, don't pull stunts like that," Rhaenyra muttered, her tone softening ever so slightly.

Aemon's grin widened. "Alright, I promise."

Their guards rushed forward to meet them, having waited anxiously outside the dragonpit.

"Your Grace, failure is only a step toward success," Ser Laen said kindly, offering words of comfort.

It took a moment for the others to realize that the young prince hadn't flown out on dragonback.

"Pfft," Gonsor Royce snorted dismissively, spitting orange seeds onto the ground.

Suddenly, a deep rumbling sound echoed from within the pit.

"Protect the prince and princess!" shouted Ser Steffon, moving swiftly to shield them.

"Quiet! Calm her, Dreamfyre!" the elder dragonkeeper's voice rang out in High Valyrian, soothing yet firm.

Moments later, an enormous shadow darkened the sky.

A magnificent pale blue dragon emerged from the gates, her head held high, her amber eyes narrowed against the sunlight she hadn't seen in so long.

"Gods…" whispered William, his knees almost buckling beneath him.

Even the seasoned knights stood in stunned silence, their hands gripping sword hilts instinctively.

Gonsor Royce gawked, his usual bravado gone as his half-eaten orange fell from his hand.

Dreamfyre stretched her elegant neck, shaking off the chains that had bound her for so long. Her vast blue wings unfurled, their translucent membranes catching the sunlight in a breathtaking display of color.

Aemon looked up in awe, shielding his eyes as the dazzling light refracted down onto him.

"She's beautiful," he whispered.

"Skrreeeee!!"

With a triumphant roar, Dreamfyre leapt skyward, her mighty wings slicing through the air as she ascended into the heavens, finally free once more.