Aegon gazed calmly at Jaehaerys and spoke unhurriedly. "Then tell me, cousin—how should this matter of succession be properly resolved?"
No sooner had he finished than Alysanne stepped forward with light, graceful steps. Her voice rang out crisp and clear. "In my view, the choice of the Targaryen throne should be decided by all Targaryens together.
Once the Awakened are destroyed, a Great Council should be convened across the realm. By vote, a new king shall be chosen. Only then can fairness and justice truly be upheld!"
Jaehaerys rested his fingers on his chin and lowered his gaze in thought.
Inside the royal tent, the assembled lords turned to Aegon, their eyes filled with expectation, each hoping he would nod in agreement.
Aegon swept his gaze across the gathering, well aware of his lack of support within House Targaryen. With a faint, half-smile, he said, "I find Lord Rogar's proposal not without merit. But when it comes to divine will, is there any means more fitting than trial by combat to reveal the gods' judgment?"
Aegon had always sought to limit the power of the nobility and was naturally unwilling to let them gain greater authority through a Great Council.
Jaehaerys furrowed his brow, exhaled deeply, and after a moment's thought, chose to accept the demand for trial by combat.
"Very well. I agree to the trial!"
He raised his hand, halting the advisers from pressing Aegon further, and said solemnly to his cousin, "Trial by combat is indeed the most effective path right now. Establishing the bond between king and vassal before marching on King's Landing will greatly aid in overthrowing the Awakened Maegor's rule. It is also a blessing for all mankind."
"Brother…" Alysanne tugged anxiously at Jaehaerys' sleeve.
Jaehaerys looked at his sister with gentle eyes and said softly, "For me, having the Great Council choose the king would indeed be most advantageous. But for all Targaryens, trial by combat is the fastest and surest way to steady hearts.
If I were to ignore humanity's greater cause for my own gain, how would I be any different from man-eating Awakened like Maegor?"
Aegon studied Jaehaerys intently, a flicker of admiration stirring within him at his cousin's magnanimity and resolve.
Of all the men he had known, Jaehaerys stood apart with the bearing of a true leader.
For a moment, Aegon even wondered if he should withdraw from this struggle for the throne. After all, he was not merely the Dragon Prince, but the guardian of House Targaryen itself. If the realm were ruled by a man as wise and capable as Jaehaerys, it would only aid his greater mission.
Jaehaerys smiled and said, "Aegon, do not be troubled by my decision. We shall fight fairly. Even if I am defeated, I will harbor no regret.
To me, the throne is not what matters most. As long as peace and stability come to the Targaryens, it makes no difference whether it is you or I who wears the crown."
He stepped forward and placed a hand firmly yet gently on Aegon's shoulder, meeting his gaze with unshaken sincerity.
Aegon fell silent. From Jaehaerys' eyes, he truly felt that earnestness.
Jaehaerys was a man of noble character indeed.
Aegon was certain that even without a crown, such a man would shine brilliantly wherever he stood.
"I now understand your ambition, and it is the same as my own unwavering purpose. Monsters that devour men cannot be allowed to exist. All Awakened are our mortal enemies." Aegon replied solemnly.
Jaehaerys let out a hearty laugh and strode beside Aegon toward the tent's entrance.
Smiling broadly, he said, "From the first time I met you, I knew you were no man driven by greed or vanity. I trusted that instinct—and now I see it was right."
Aegon gave a slight nod, saying no more. Between kindred spirits, too many words were unnecessary. Besides, if they went on praising one another, they might only draw unwanted eyes.
...
They stepped into the open space outside the camp, where many commanders and lords from eastern Westeros had gathered.
The clash between the Dragonborn and the mightiest of Dragonborn filled the crowd with anticipation.
All wished to see whether Aegon could truly triumph over the one hailed as the world's strongest humanoid.
Aegon slowly drew Dark Sister, the Valyrian steel blade angled toward the ground. In that instant, a shrill, piercing cry like a bird's call burst from its edge.
The terrifying speed of his Swift Sword tore through the air, sharper with every swing. The grass at his side was instantly sliced away. In the blink of an eye, the ground within two meters had been shaved flat, the earth itself etched with countless cuts.
Many nobles present, having grafted Awakened dragon-kin flesh, could just barely make out fragments of Aegon's movements.
But that half-blurred perception only made the sheer terror of his Swift Sword all the more apparent.
Jaehaerys, too, drew the longsword at his waist, holding it upright before his chest.
In an instant, demonic energy surged from his body like a blazing wildfire. The steel in his hand became shrouded in that aura, its surface slowly taking on a greenish patina.
When the corrosion spread across the blade entirely, Jaehaerys' weapon had become a bronze sword, mottled with the rust of centuries.
Jaehaerys spoke steadily. "Aegon, every Dragonborn possesses a unique royal power. Mine is the power of the King of Bronze and Fire. It allows me to transform any weapon into a ritual artifact.
The more steadfastly I believe in and defend the justice I uphold, the stronger my power grows—and the more formidable the bronze ritual artifact in my hand becomes.
The strength of the Bronze and Fire has nothing to do with awakening into a demon. The key lies in my conviction."
"Are you ready to face a Dragonborn at the peak of his royal power?"
With that, Jaehaerys swept his Bronze sword to the side. A torrent of fire burst forth, carving a crescent-shaped arc through the air. Its blazing light illuminated the faces of the onlookers.
Aegon stared at the flaming blade pointed his way, his eyes utterly fearless.
He gauged silently: the surge of magic Jaehaerys had unleashed was not much stronger than his own. As for the power of Bronze and Fire—he would probe it first, then judge its true might.
A phantom afterimage lingered where Aegon had stood, while his real body shot forward at a speed beyond mortal sight, closing the distance in an instant.
At the moment of attack, the Phantom Sword technique unfolded again. Three illusions formed before Jaehaerys, striking from the left, center, and right. Sword shadows flashed, swift as lightning.
A confident smile curved Jaehaerys' lips.
His Bronze sword spun a crescent arc at his side, and searing flames burst outward in a blazing explosion.
In the blink of an eye, a three-meter radius around him was swallowed in fire, the inferno roaring skyward.
Aegon's two phantoms were instantly consumed, while his true body, scorched by the sudden blaze, was forced to halt. He raised Dark Sister to defend.
Unleashing his Exploding Sword technique at full strength, he sought to force back the raging fire.
Boom! Boom! Explosions ripped through the inferno, deafening and violent.
Aegon narrowed his eyes, startled to find that even his explosive swordplay was slightly weaker than Jaehaerys' flaming strike.
For the first time, he faced a force more violent than his own. Yet the iron resolve in his bloodline gave him no thought of retreat. Changing his sword form, he unleashed the Spiral Sword technique.
The flames around him, pulled by spiraling demonic energy, began to twist into a massive conical vortex of fire.
Aegon's figure darted through the blaze, driving forward with fierce attacks. His sword tip pierced the flames, shrieking as it cut the air.
Jaehaerys, having completed his fiery whirlwind slash, swung his Bronze sword downward, drawing a half-circle across the ground like a compass.
Where the blade traced, a burning path remained.
Whoosh—
A towering wall of fire erupted along that path, rising to bar Aegon's spiraling advance.
Though his Valyrian steel pierced the wall, his body was stopped cold by the searing barrier.
He could feel Dark Sister radiating scorching heat. Were it not for the dragon-kin body and true dragon bloodline that granted him resistance, his hand would already have been burned raw.
With no choice, Aegon retreated.
He left a phantom where he stood, reappearing five meters away.
Jaehaerys remained calm, his Bronze sword still ablaze. Drops of molten fire slid from the blade, sizzling as they struck the ground and burst into tiny sparks.
"You are truly formidable—the strongest unawakened Dragonborn I have ever faced," Aegon admitted.
Jaehaerys shook his head slightly, his voice calm. "This is not even my strongest state. I lack the fixation to defeat you at any cost.
For my beliefs and principles, victory or defeat here makes little difference.
If you wish to see me at full strength, you may have to wait until King's Landing, when I face Maegor."
Aegon gave a slight nod and said no more. Once again, he unleashed the Phantom Sword, charging like a lightning bolt.
In an instant, the battlefield roared with clash after clash.
Aegon's swordplay unfolded in dazzling brilliance—phantoms flashing, blades glittering—leaving the eastern lords of Westeros dazzled, gasping in awe.
Jaehaerys swung his Bronze sword in sweeping arcs, each strike roaring like a dragon's breath, flames cascading like a fiery waterfall.
The inferno met Aegon's Exploding Sword strikes head-on. Their collision erupted in thunderous blasts that shook the night sky.
The onlookers stared wide-eyed, stunned by this battle for the throne.
The two princes displayed the pinnacle of mortal strength, their clashing flames blazing like fireworks—beautiful, yet deadly.
Alysanne's face was clouded with worry as she fixed her gaze on her brother Jaehaerys.
For all his might, Jaehaerys was far slower than Aegon. The fight saw Aegon pressing the assault, while Jaehaerys was forced into defense and counterattacks.
From the flow of battle, Jaehaerys was clearly at a disadvantage.
Boom!—Aegon was driven back again, a powerful shockwave rippling through him as his heavy strike clashed against the flames.
He lowered his gaze to his arm, blistered and raw from the searing heat.
Though his formidable regeneration was already knitting the skin back together, the burning pain still gnawed at him.
He hadn't expected his battle with Jaehaerys to turn into such a grueling stalemate.
The power of the King of Bronze and Fire was stranger than he imagined. Even with his V-grade reserves of magic essence, the unrelenting exchange was beginning to wear him down.
As the flames receded, Jaehaerys' figure emerged.
He looked almost untouched by his own inferno, his robes only nicked in a few places by Aegon's blade—far from the battered state Aegon himself was in.
Jaehaerys spoke steadily. "My flames are unlike ordinary fire. They are born of magic essence fused with willpower, and cost me little. Aegon, if this is all you can muster, it will be you who tires first—and loses."
Aegon let out a quiet sigh. "I admit, I underestimated you. Jaehaerys, you are the first to force me to use my true strength."
He stilled the flurry of his Swift Sword and raised Dark Sister upright, its tip pointed skyward, half-veiling his face.
'That stance… it's the same I use when meditating on the Bronze power…' Jaehaerys frowned, unease flickering in his chest. His grip tightened as the flames on his own bronze blade weakened slightly.
Alysanne's lips parted in shock. She had already guessed Aegon's intent, whispering inwardly to herself, 'Impossible… how could a dragonborn wield another's royal power? No… please, don't let him succeed… don't…'
But the change that followed shattered her hopes.
Before Aegon's eyes, green patina spread across the blade of Dark Sister, blooming like flowers across the Valyrian steel until the sword was wholly encased. In moments, it had transformed into a bronze blade identical to the one in Jaehaerys' hand.
Jaehaerys stared in disbelief, eyes darting between Aegon's weapon and his own.
"You… how in the world did you do that?!"
Aegon twisted the hilt, and flames licked to life along the bronze Valyrian steel. Fire surged, spreading into a blazing inferno. With a downward slash, he unleashed a burst of flame identical to Jaehaerys' own attack moments before.
"Born of blood and fire, forged in steel. Flesh as fuel, magic as kindling—able to draw in and assimilate all sources of power. This is the strength of Burning Steel. This… is my royal power: the King of Burning Steel." Aegon's voice rang out, calm but absolute.
He had long wielded the extraordinary sword arts of other dragonborn, prompting whispers that his magic could imitate the traits of others. Now that his secret was exposed, he spoke the name of his power without hesitation.
"King of Burning Steel! To think that a dragonborn could seize the full power of a Dragonborn—it is worthy of admiration," Jaehaerys said gravely. "Then let us decide this here. We shall see whether bronze or steel prevails!"
With that, Jaehaerys charged.
For the first time since the duel began, he took the offensive, abandoning his earlier war of attrition to strike in earnest—seeking to end it with one decisive blow.