Bronze Shackles and the Shadow of a Fleeing Dragon

Runestone's year-end lay beneath a thin blanket of snow. Ancient bronze armor reflected the cold daylight from atop the walls, its rune-carved plates seeming to whisper of the Vale's stubbornness and pride.

Today, however, this castle renowned for its resilience had been forcibly infused with a touch of splendor that did not belong here—the marriage alliance between Targaryen and House Royce had left sky-blue banners and three-headed dragon sigils awkwardly tangled in the freezing wind.

Fine snow clung to King Jaehaerys's silver hair. He pulled his heavy sable cloak tighter and looked at the newlyweds before the altar, his brow creasing almost imperceptibly.

Baelon stood at his side, his face colder than the bronze upon the walls. The old wound beneath his ribs seemed to have been stirred by the oppressive atmosphere, making him press a hand to his side from time to time.

Daemon Blackfyre stood a little farther away, his gaze sweeping across the crowd.

As expected, Rhaenys had brought Laena and Laenor. Tidehead Island's sea-blue cloaks stood out vividly against the snow.

Six-year-old Laena had begun to grow into her features, her brows and eyes carrying Rhaenys's heroic spirit as she stood on tiptoe to inspect the altar curiously. Three-year-old Laenor, meanwhile, clutched his mother's hand tightly, his little face full of wariness toward the unfamiliar surroundings.

"Where's the Sea Snake?" Daemon asked Rhaenys quietly.

"Where else could he be?" Rhaenys gave a soft laugh, her tone filled with helpless understanding toward her husband. "The Free Cities across the Narrow Sea have found another 'business opportunity.' He said he was going to 'prepare for the next voyage' and expand the fleet by another thirty percent."

She deliberately emphasized the words "prepare for the next voyage." Clearly, after half a year, she had already grown accustomed to Corlys devoting himself entirely to sailing after resigning as Master of Ships.

The wedding ceremony began amid the Seven's septon's lengthy prayers.

Rhea Royce wore a dark blue wedding gown adorned with bronze sigils. A crown of the same material rested atop her ebony-black hair. There was not a trace of bridal shyness on her valiant face, only an almost solemn resolve.

When the septon asked whether she was willing to love him, honor him, and obey him, her answer rang out as clearly as a battle-axe splitting stone. "I am willing to safeguard the alliance between House Royce and Targaryen as I safeguard the runes of Runestone. As for obedience—" She paused, her pale gray eyes fixing directly upon the groom beside her. "That depends on whether he is worthy of it." A muffled intake of breath rippled through the crowd.

Daemon Targaryen's face instantly darkened. His distinctive silver hair whipped about in the wind, and offended fury burned in his violet eyes.

Had Prince Baelon not cast him a cold look, he might well have stormed off on the spot. When it was his turn to swear his vows, his voice dripped with undisguised mockery. "I am willing... well, willing to let Caraxes get acquainted with the bronze flavor of Runestone."

The exchange of tokens was an even greater disaster.

Rhea offered a bronze amulet carved with protective runes, so heavy it looked as though it could kill a man if thrown at him;

Daemon's return gift was a ruby ring brought from King's Landing, its brilliant red gemstone looking especially frivolous against the bronze backdrop.

When Rhea accepted the ring, her fingertips did not even touch his skin. She merely pinched it between two fingers, as though it were some piece of burning trash.

"Looks like this wedding is even more 'lively' than I imagined." Rhaenys leaned close to Daemon Blackfyre's ear, her voice full of amusement. "Our little Daemon had better keep his eyes open. Don't learn from that namesake elder brother of yours." She paused, then deliberately raised her voice a little. "Come to think of it, when will we see you in wedding robes? You can't make your sister wait too long, can you?"

Daemon Blackfyre shook his head helplessly, just about to reply, when he saw Princess Gael blush in the distance, the handkerchief in her hands nearly twisted into a knot.

Alicent Hightower, standing beside Gael, secretly glanced at him as well before quickly lowering her head again, the tips of her ears flushing faintly red.

The atmosphere at the wedding feast was even more rigid than during the ceremony. Daemon Targaryen drank cup after cup of ale, glaring viciously at the Vale knights who tried to approach and toast him.

Rhea sat at another table with several House Royce elders, quietly discussing the Vale's defensive arrangements as though the groom beside her were nothing more than an irrelevant ornament.

King Jaehaerys tried several times to ease the mood, only to be turned away by Rhea's impeccably polite replies and Daemon's deliberate disregard.

It was not until deep into the night that this awkward wedding finally limped toward its end amid everyone's silence.

When the servants led the newlyweds toward their bedchamber, Daemon Targaryen staggered. Rhea cast him a cold glance. "Does a Targaryen prince need someone to hold him up just to walk?" The taunt completely ignited Daemon's rage. He abruptly flung away the servant's hand and glared fiercely at Rhea. "At least I'm not some cold lump of bronze that can't be warmed!"

The two began arguing in low voices outside the bedchamber door. They were not loud, but those standing guard outside could clearly hear curses such as "barbarian" and "rogue."

In the end, it was Count Yorbert Royce who lost patience first. He coughed and said, "It is late. You two should retire early." Only then was this farce forcibly brought to an end.

When they parted the next day, Rhaenys took Daemon Blackfyre by the arm, her tone half-joking and half-serious. "See that? Whatever you do, don't be like Daemon the elder. Marrying someone you can't get along with is pure torment." She glanced at Gael and Alicent speaking with Laena in the distance, then added, "Of course, don't marry someone too forceful either, or life will be impossible."

Then she abruptly changed tack, her voice loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. "If it comes to it, if the old man forces you into a marriage alliance, come find your sister at High Tide! Your sister will make the decision for you! I think our Laena is quite good. In a few more years, she'll be just the right age. You can cultivate your feelings from childhood and know each other inside and out—"

"Mother!" Six-year-old Laena instantly turned scarlet. She hid behind Rhaenys, her little hands clutching her mother's cloak tightly.

Gael, who heard those words from a short distance away, went pale at once. She lowered her head, unconsciously picking at the tassels on her cloak, her eyes reddening slightly.

Daemon Targaryen, who had just been sent away by Rhea's cold expression, happened to hear every word. It was as though he had been stabbed again.

He rushed over to Viserys and Aemma, wailing, "Brother! Sister-in-law! Look at her! Rhaenys is kicking me while I'm down! I don't want to stay here. This place is worse than a dungeon!"

Viserys shrugged helplessly, while Aemma patted his arm, suppressing a laugh. "Bear with it. Marriage always takes adjustment."

At last, Daemon turned desperately toward Daemon Blackfyre—his namesake brother, his final hope—and shouted, "Brother! Take me away! Back to King's Landing! I'll even squeeze in with Glutton at the Dragonpit if I have to!" Before his words had faded, he met the simultaneous icy stares of Jaehaerys and Baelon.

The old king's gaze carried unquestionable authority, while Baelon's was like an ice-tempered dagger. Daemon immediately fell silent and shut his mouth resentfully. In the end, he could only watch helplessly as the royal party departed while he himself was left "trapped" in that bronze castle.

Life after returning to King's Landing was much calmer. One afternoon several days later, the sun finally drove away the winter gloom. Daemon was accompanying Gael and Alicent in the gardens of the Red Keep as they watched over Rhaenyra.

The precocious little princess had already begun to crawl unsteadily. She was currently wobbling after a butterfly, her soft silver-gold hair gleaming beneath the sunlight.

Gael crouched on the ground, patiently teaching Rhaenyra to recognize flowers. Alicent sat on a nearby stone bench, embroidering a baby's cloak, occasionally looking up at Daemon playing with Rhaenyra with gentle eyes.

Just then, a familiar dragon's roar tore through the sky!

It was sharp and urgent, carrying a kind of ecstatic relief. Daemon Blackfyre suddenly looked up to see a scarlet figure burst through the clouds and dive toward the Red Keep—Caraxes!

The rider on the dragon's back had disheveled silver hair, his cloak whipping wildly in the wind. It was Daemon Targaryen, who was supposed to be at Runestone!

"I'm back!" His roar, accompanied by Caraxes's bellow, echoed throughout the Red Keep. "Whoever loves that miserable place can stay there!"

Gael covered her mouth in astonishment. Alicent also stopped her work and looked up at the figure descending from the sky.

Daemon Blackfyre watched that familiar, rebellious posture and understood at once—history's inertia had ultimately led his "great-grandfather," the Rogue Prince, to make the exact same choice recorded in the histories.

Caraxes circled once above the Dragonpit before landing steadily in the square. Daemon Targaryen leaped down from the dragon's back and stumbled a few steps, then grinned like a child who had successfully skipped school.

In the distance, the windows of King Jaehaerys's study flew open, and the old king's furious roar faintly carried through the air. "Daemon! You bastard!"

But this time, Daemon Targaryen showed not the slightest fear. Instead, he made a face toward the study, then strode toward it with high spirits—he knew that with a dragon at his side, no one could ever send him back to that cold bronze castle again.

In the garden, Daemon Blackfyre watched the figure disappear at the end of the corridor, then looked at Gael and Alicent beside him, both staring at each other in bewilderment. He shook his head helplessly. It seemed King's Landing's peaceful days were about to be thrown into chaos once more by this namesake "elder brother."