"Aemon!"
Vhagar had just arrived, and Laena, perched on dragonback, exclaimed in alarm.
Caraxes plunged into the lake, his massive bulk sending waves a thousand feet high. He towered over the tallest towers of the Dale.
"Turn around, Meleys!"
Rhaenys never expected the two dragons to end their fight so quickly and change direction.
"No!"
Viserys froze in shock.
The two dragons tangled and fell, their riders unnoticed and entangled.
Caraxes's fall meant that Daemon was in danger, too.
Gurgle...
The water receded, leaving a red stain on the surface from the dragon blood. The intense heat caused the water to boil, producing a hazy white smoke that burned.
Several dragons roared and flew toward the smoke-filled shores of the Long Lake.
There, Vermithor landed.
Boom!
Vhagar crashed down, his massive form resembling a dark green mountain.
Its cold, vertical pupils narrowed slightly. Through the smoke, it saw a blurry, massive figure.
"Hiss—"
A thunderous roar exploded—a warning from Vermithor.
The smoke gradually dissipated, and silence returned to the night sky.
A giant bronze dragon with two distinct black bite marks on its neck slowly climbed out and shook its head. Its bronze scales remained firm, and its massive brown wings shook off the dust as if it were a reborn dragon.
Everyone held their breath, staring intently at the dragon's back.
"Hold on, Vermithor!"
Suddenly, Aemon's slightly hoarse voice rang out.
Vermithor glanced back. His intact left shoulder rested on the ground. His bronze, vertical pupils were wary of the several dragons appearing around him.
After the intense battle, his blood was still hot.
Aemon patted the dragon's back with one hand and unfastened the tightly wrapped saddle with the other.
He looked a little embarrassed.
Vermithor's emergency landing sent a cloud of dust flying through the air, leaving Aemon covered in dust.
"Get down,"
Aemon panted, lifting Daemon, who was lying facedown in the saddle.
"You've got a trick up your sleeve."
Daemon's head was bruised from the fall. Blood streamed from his eyes, and he was having difficulty breathing.
He hadn't expected to survive.
As they walked, Aemon smiled and said, "In a fight between dragons of similar size, the ultimate battle comes down to skill."
Caraxes was indeed a formidable opponent.
Despite his grievous wounds, he was determined to fight Vermithor to the bitter end with his unusual form and determination to fight to the death.
Daemon finally understood why Vhagar and Caraxes had perished together in their original world.
This life-for-life tactic was contrary to dragon nature.
Any dragon facing Caraxes for the first time would pay a heavy price.
"Aemon, how are you?"
Laena flew over, her eyes full of tension as she looked him up and down.
"I'm fine."
Aemon casually dropped Daemon from his shoulder, and Daemon slammed to the ground with a thud.
Daemon grimaced, breaking out in a cold sweat from the pain.
Compared to Aemon, who was holding onto the dragon saddle chain, Daemon was obviously more seriously injured because he was being held by the other party. There were countless scratches on his body, and at least a few of his ribs were broken.
"God bless you two! You are okay!"
Viserys stumbled over with tears in his eyes.
This was much better than he had expected: one dead and one seriously injured.
"Not necessarily. It's not over yet."
Aemon said lightly.
He pushed Laena away, pulled out the Lady of the Hollow, and pointed it at Daemon, who was lying limp on the ground.
Daemon's eyes were gloomy, and he secretly grasped a stone.
Bang!
Aemon kicked out, striking Daemon's wrist hard and sending the stone flying. "Your little tricks won't work against me," he warned.
Daemon gritted his teeth and abandoned any hope of resistance.
"You lose,"
Aemon said, looking down at him. "As promised, Lys is mine, your children are mine, and you are mine as well."
The ferocity of the dragon fight exceeded expectations, enough to awaken those in the family who had pretended to sleep.
It was time to reap the spoils.
Daemon scoffed and stared intently at Aemon, unfazed.
Lost, lost.
He and Caraxes couldn't make it, so he braced himself for the worst.
"Admit defeat, or choose death,"
Aemon said calmly, holding the Lady of the Hollow in his hand as he moved forward.
"Aemon, what are you doing?"
Viserys was startled and tried to stop him.
At this point, it was a fight to the death.
Rhaenys's expression was grave. She glanced at Vermithor, who had risen again, and at Silverwing and Grayshadow circling the sky. Then she gave her daughter a stealthy glance.
There was no room for two proud men in the same family. Aemon and Daemon were destined to face off.
"Aemon, you've already won."
Receiving the signal, Laena quickly grabbed Aemon's sword-wielding right hand.
Without his dragon, Daemon had lost his greatest advantage. There was no need to stain his kin with blood.
Aemon remained unmoved, insisting, "Surrender or die?"
"Haha."
Daemon grinned, supporting himself with his left arm as he tried to rise. The sharp pain in his ribs caused him to fall again.
Helplessly, he curled his legs together, arched his back, and turned his head.
This further accentuated the embarrassment of a defeated warrior, as his already wrinkled clothes became covered in mud.
But Daemon, disheartened, paid no attention to these events. He simply gazed at the lake behind him.
Vast swathes of water were stained crimson with dragon blood and gurgled and evaporated.
Daemon stared, unable to locate the crimson figure.
The lake was vast and deep. Its depths were bottomless and deep enough to drown a severely wounded dragon.
Aemon didn't intervene, giving Daemon time to reflect.
He cherished every dragon.
He particularly loved Caraxes, the bloodthirsty and aggressive dragon who lived up to his namesake.
Even at the last moment, after regaining his composure, Caraxes resolutely chose to sacrifice himself rather than stand in the way of his rider's survival.
Aemon saw it all.
"Go ahead, boy."
After a moment, Daemon looked away, silently closing his eyes.
No one in this world would die for him—Only Caraxes would.
He had nothing to worry about.
"Daemon, what nonsense are you talking about?"
Viserys raged, moving to grab him by the collar.
Rhaenys held him back.
The dragon's death had been a crushing blow to Daemon.
"Are you sure?"
Aemon frowned.
Daemon lay flat on his back, a smile of relief playing on his lips.
The great terror between life and death reveals a person's true nature. His wife no longer considers him her husband, his son no longer considers him his father, his brother is ashamed of him, and no one trusts him. Such a failed life would be better off dead.
"I will grant you that,"
Aemon said, lowering his eyes, and raising his sword decisively.
"Stop!"
They cried out, but his suddenness was too much for them.
At the critical moment,
There was a loud thump of hooves in the distance, as if cavalry were charging.
Aemon was halfway through his swing when a feathered arrow struck the blade of the Lady of the Hollow.
With a crisp clang, the Lady of the Hollow was deflected.
Aemon's eyes flashed as he looked up in the direction of the arrow.
Facing him was the flag of Runestone City.
Lady Rhea rode the white deer, leaping several feet in the air while running, and quickly rushed to the lakeside.
She held a dragon bone bow in her hand.
Aemon took a deep breath and calmly said, "Mom."
"Yeah."
Lady Rhea nodded lightly and looked around quickly, analyzing the situation.
When she saw the red, boiling lake water, her pupils shrank involuntarily.
"Are you here to persuade me?"
Aemon said speechlessly.
"You guessed right. It's my fault for having so much free time."
Lady Rhea conceded, rolling off the white stag and onto the ground. She turned to walk toward the king.
"I'm applying for a dissolution of our marriage. What's your reason for refusing this time?"
"You..."
Viserys was speechless, his face flushing. What time was it?
"I heard the Targaryens have formed a Dragon Council, and all family members have voting rights."
Lady Rhea fixed her eyes on Rhaenys, whose aura was most similar to that of the person present. She said, "My marriage to Daemon is witnessed by all the Seven Kingdoms. You should have no objection."
"You should ask the person involved."
Rhaenys said, making it clear that it had nothing to do with her.
"Understood."
Lady Rhea nodded and looked at Daemon. She couldn't help but taunt, "Look at you now. Not even the sheep in the Vale would dare wag their tails at you."
"I don't bother arguing with you."
Daemon seemed to come alive, opening his eyes and confronting her.
"I'm not as vain as you, fighting my own son to the death and throwing his body across the sea."
Lady Rhea's tongue remained sharp, but she then said sternly, "Nod your head and restore my freedom in front of your brother, the king."
If she died again, she'd be a widow.
"Whore!"
Daemon couldn't hold back his curse.
However, since the other party had offered, he wouldn't refuse.
Turning to Viserys, he said weakly, "Let me go with a clean slate."
Viserys was stunned, his eyes shifting back and forth between the couple. What time was it?
"Brother,"
Daemon muttered, thinking he disagreed.
Viserys's heart trembled, and he bowed his head in pain. "In the name of Viserys I, Targaryen, I grant your request."
If he had agreed sooner, perhaps things would have turned out differently.
"Thank you."
Daemon's eyes glittered.
"Are you done?"
Aemon frowned, annoyed. "After that, I'll take action."
He didn't take him seriously at all.
Strange Whispers
"I must tell you, if you kill him today, you'll be cut off from both sides of the strait tomorrow."
Lady Rhea was cold and calculating, concerned only with gains and losses.
"Listen to Lady Rhea. You've already won,"
Laena said hastily.
Terrified, Laenor finally came to his senses. He took his little cousin's left hand in his and said sheepishly, "You and your sister are about to be engaged, and Rhaenyra is pregnant with your child. Let's avoid bloodshed."
He was nearly pissing himself.
Aemon was repeatedly persuaded, seemingly weighing the pros and cons, but, in reality, he ignored them. He was simply pondering one point: Should he kill Daemon?
His mother was right: Parricide is social death.
Sensing his hesitation while Viserys was still grieving and dazed, Rhaenys acted decisively.
"Daemon, think of your family in Lys. Now that you're free, you can provide for them."
These words instantly ignited Daemon's hope for life.
His wife, Marana Rogar, was an unhurried bookworm. Honestly, Daemon disliked such women. But aside from their marital ties, she had indeed borne him a son: a son of pure Valyrian blood.
Aemon curled his lips and asked one last time, "Surrender or die?" He could spare the other man.
Without his dragon, Daemon was like a dragon with broken wings, deprived of his soaring power.
"You win."
Daemon laughed bitterly. "You are better at living than I am. Even if I'm the one who dies, they'll protect you first."
"You are really stubborn."
Aemon sneered.
Aemon pushed away Daemon's head and raised his hand to retract the two swords.
Suddenly, muttering sounded in his ears.
"Kill him, kill him..."
The voice was ethereal, and it was impossible to tell whether it was a man or a woman.
It sounded like someone was lying next to him or inside his head.
"Who!?"
Aemon's eyes instantly narrowed, and he whirled around, searching.
"Kill him, kill him..."
The voice continued, more urgent than before, laced with urgency.
"Playing tricks!"
Aemon's face darkened, and he closed his eyes, sensing the source of the voice.
He had long sensed that something unusual was going on. The sudden appearance of unknown voyeurs on Lonely Mountain and the untraceable surveillance—all hinted that he was being targeted.
"Aemon, what's wrong with you?"
Laena asked curiously.
"Who's speaking in your ear?"
Rhaenys was more perceptive and uncovered a reason for her nephew's strange behavior from his first words.
Aemon turned in circles, his hearing amplified by his blocked vision.
The mumbling was faint but carried an invisible force that affected his mind.
Without his formidable mental strength, he would have been traumatized unknowingly.
"Kill him, kill him..."
Seeing that he was unaffected, the muttering grew more rapid but fainter.
Aemon closed his eyes and turned back and forth to identify the source.
To onlookers, he appeared to be going mad.
"Aemon, what's going on?"
Viserys's expression shifted. After several fruitless inquiries, he hurriedly said, "Hold him down first! Don't let him move."
His nephew held two swords in his hands. At such close range, if he attacked, no one present would be able to escape.
Laenor sprang into action, trying to seize the opportunity to grab his younger cousin's waist.
Even Daemon slowly climbed to his feet and stared at Aemon in surprise.
"I've found you!"
Suddenly, Aemon opened his eyes, and a flash of light gleamed in his pupils.
It was the manifestation of his mental power.
"Hurry!"
Vermithor roared low and advanced to meet his rider.
Aemon moved swiftly, kicking and elbowing Laenor as he scrambled onto the dragon's back.
He had figured it out.
The source of the whispers was the Lonely Mountain.
Vermithor had regained some strength; the bleeding from his chest wound had stopped. He flapped his wings and soared into the air.
However, the Lonely Mountain was vast, which made the search difficult.
Aemon's eyes were deep, and many thoughts stirred within him.
Who was whispering? Why was he the target? What was their purpose?
The strange phenomenon had only recently appeared, and it must have been caused by his recent experiences. Was it the Hammer of Fire or the Dragon Egg in the Sea of Smoke?
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