The next morning:
The sun rose and its light shone through the glass window onto the warm bed.
Aemon was half asleep and half awake, his eyelids slightly open.
Someone was lying next to her with long, silver-gold hair covering her face. A white skirt had slid down, revealing one of her shoulders.
The quilt was pressed under her body, rising and falling with her breath.
"It's so cold."
Aemon couldn't open his eyes and lifted his head.
How could someone not cover up and press the quilt tightly?
They really deserve to be beheaded!
His head was fuzzy, and he subconsciously looked for a warm embrace. He stretched out his hands and hugged the quilt tightly.
He felt uncomfortable and rubbed his cheeks hard.
It was soft.
Like a freshly baked cake.
He found a comfortable position and fell asleep.
"Hmmm."
Rhaenyra's long, silver-gold hair swayed, and her small mouth opened slightly as she moaned.
It seemed that Syrax was holding her down and that her waist was about to break.
"Good girl, stop making trouble."
She was also confused in her sleep. She reached out and groped the other's white shirt, gently rubbing its short, silver-gold hair. When she touched the soft hair, she suddenly realized that the dragon in her arms was not Syrax.
"Huh?"
Rhaenyra opened her eyes and saw the figure in her arms clearly.
In an instant, she silently turned her head away.
Last night was enough nonsense.
Both sides tried their best to control their tempers so that the situation would not further escalate into a bloody incident.
"Aemon, wake up."
Rhaenyra was so sleepy that her face was flushed from sleep. She gently patted the other person with her bare hands.
"..."
The other person did not respond and snored softly.
Rhaenyra tilted her head and accepted her fate.
After a minute,
The sleepiness gradually disappeared and her mind began to race.
Her father's scolding, the lonely banquet, and...
Rhaenyra's face flushed. She closed her eyes tightly and clenched the quilt.
When she thought about last night, her whole body felt as brittle as a cookie.
It seemed like it would break if touched.
"..."
The other party did not respond, and the snoring grew louder.
Their breath sprayed her arms, hitting her skin through the nightgown.
Rhaenyra seemed drunk. Her breathing slowly became heavier, and her eyelashes trembled involuntarily.
When you drink too much, it's always like this.
"Yawn~"
Rhaenyra yawned, her eyes filling with tears, and sleepiness overtook her again.
She was tired and sleepy.
Her body moved forward gently, and her chin rested on her short, silver-gold hair.
Her long, white, greasy legs, which were riding on the quilt, retracted and were placed on the strong waist opposite her legs.
One dragon used the other as a pillow. The other dragon woke up and also used the first dragon as a pillow.
"Aemon—"
Rhaenyra muttered, lost in thought despite her drowsiness.
She finally understood Aemon's nature.
Dragons are chaotic and disorderly.
They are born capricious and restless.
The only way to tame a dragon is to satisfy its deepest desires.
Before her mother died, Rhaenyra had enjoyed her parents' unreserved love.
In comparison, Aemon grew up in a harsher environment.
He abandoned Runestone City and turned to developing the river valley, showing his full distrust of his parents.
Therefore, he is stricter when it comes to emotions.
His late great-grandfather, Jaehaerys, was a "good friend" of his.
Apart from these two, he is probably warm on the outside but cold on the inside with everyone else.
"Alicent is not a good person."
Rhaenyra was so sleepy that she couldn't open her eyes, yet she subconsciously denied and criticized her former friend.
Her bare hands slid through her short, silver hair and grabbed the stretched-flat white shirt on her broad shoulders.
Her five fingers slowly exerted force, and wrinkles appeared on the shirt.
She had to protect this dragon from the outside world.
Soon, she fell asleep.
The sun was high in the sky.
Rhaenyra's face was peaceful as she slept, her cheek resting on her long, silver-gold hair, which was as soft as silk.
At the foot of the bed, a pair of eyes quietly examined her.
Aemon sat with his disheveled hair, kneading his sore neck.
"What did this guy do last night?"
Aemon looked dull as he reached his hand under the quilt to feel around.
The sheets were wet and cold; no wonder someone was sleeping on top of the quilt.
"Never mind, I'm too lazy to expose you."
He held his forehead helplessly, vaguely remembering someone curled up in the quilt and groaning last night.
"Get up and go out to wash."
"Prince."
Two maids in red and white uniforms had been waiting for a long time, holding basins and towels.
"Go away."
Aemon took the items and turned back to the room.
"Yes."
The two maids left obediently.
They were orphans from Kingslanding who were selected by the housekeeper, Lady Johanna, to take care of His Royal Highness's daily needs.
Bang!
The door closed gently so as not to disturb the sleeper.
However,
"Aemon—"
Rhaenyra sat at the bedside table and tilted her head to comb her messy silver-gold hair.
Seeing him come in, she smiled and waved. "Come."
It was as if there was something good to share.
Aemon was indifferent and washed his face by himself.
The woman across from him is a hooligan who only wants his body.
"Hmmm."
Rhaenyra was dissatisfied. She walked over to him, comb in hand, and wrapped her arms around his neck from behind.
It was a quiet morning with warm sunshine.
People who wake up early should cuddle.
It's just like in the picture book stories.
Rhaenyra's character is unique.
She's petite yet full of boldness and wildness.
"I'm leaving."
Rhaenyra suddenly said, bumping the other person with her head.
Honestly, she didn't stay long.
There are no disputes in Riverdale; there's no need to fight with Alicent, and she has people she can rely on.
"You want to stay?"
Aemon asked.
Rhaenyra shook her head and laughed. "You know the consequences of me staying," she said.
By going against her father's will, she had to hand over the heir to the Iron Throne to little Aegon.
That was the only thing she had.
Power is power; power is strength.
Without the right to inherit, how could she keep the man in her life?
She would end up like those noble ladies whose beauty faded, whose love waned, and whose husbands cheated on them.
Aemon glanced at her and handed her a wet towel.
If he had known what Rhaenyra was thinking, he would have told her.
Some people seemed to have not put on their hats yet, but they had already put them on.
"Thank you."
Rhaenyra took the towel and smiled happily.
After a while of busy work,
The two got dressed, and Aemon sat down on the chair.
Rhaenyra bit a black headband with her silver teeth, combed Aemon's hair, and tied a knot behind his head.
After a few months, the hair that had once drooped to his ears had grown longer and was now level with his shoulders.
His long, silver-gold hair was naturally loose, and a headband was tied in layers to keep it neat and orderly.
This is a common hairstyle for Targaryen men.
"Let's see how it goes."
After finishing, Rhaenyra could not hide her pride.
Aemon encouraged her loudly: "Very good!
"Of course, I'll give it to you as a parting gift."
Rhaenyra pointed to the black headband, raising her lips slightly.
The headband was made of plain black steel.
The gift was small, but the sentiment was great.
Aemon glanced at her and smiled as well.
The two exchanged provocative looks and pushed their heads against each other in dissatisfaction.
Noon.
The princess's procession drove out of Raven Hill and the three-headed red dragon flag paused.
In the White Wheel Palace, Aemon pulled out the mithril sword, Light of the Kingdom, and handed it to Rhaenyra.
"Remember what I taught you?"
"Hold the hilt of the sword, keep your wrist flush with the blade, and then stab."
"That's right."
Aemon said with a serious expression. "When you encounter someone trying to make things difficult for you, raise the sword and stab. It's enough to break most armor."
Rhaenyra listened carefully.
She was weak and lacked skills.
Learning a stabbing move used by a one-handed sword would be enough.
"Okay, be careful on the road."
Aemon warned. He pushed the door and walked down from the wheelhouse.
All good things must come to an end.
"Your Highness."
Cole rode a white horse and nodded perfunctorily in greeting.
Aemon ignored him and returned to the front of the Vale Knights.
"Soldiers, set off!"
Cole shouted, and the princess's procession set off again.
After a night of cold wind, the princess did not return to her room.
Aemon felt mixed emotions and ultimately attributed them to the injustice of fate.
He hoped the king wouldn't find out and cut off his head in anger and put it on a spear.
In his eyes, such behavior should not occur before marriage.
The Seven Gods watch the world from the sky.
Cole felt heavyhearted, but no one paid attention to him.
The curtains of the white wheelhouse were lifted, and Rhaenyra leaned out to look back.
A silver-haired figure rode a white deer and ordered the Vale Knights to stay where they were.
Rhaenyra smiled; her mood was like a blooming flower.
After a while, the princess's procession really left.
Aemon remained calm. He pulled the reins and signaled the white deer to turn around.
Rumble!
The knights of the valley galloped across the cement-paved river valley road and returned across Raven Ridge.
Time flies.
It was mid-October.
The sun was scorching hot, and the valley was sultry.
Ding-dong! Ding-dong!
The crisp sound of clashing metal was endless, and fierce sparks collided.
Aemon wore only a vest, and he held a hammer.
Boom!
The charcoal fire in the furnace surged, engulfing a piece of bronze plate armor.
Aemon's eyes were serious, and beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. He paid close attention to the slightest difference in the hammer's sound.
Two months had passed since Rhaenyra left.
The town of River Valley was entering a stage of rapid development. His Highness the Prince had nothing to do, so he concentrated on studying the forging process.
The front of the bronze plate armor chest piece had been forged, and runes had been engraved on both sides of the surface to embellish the plain color.
"Huh, it's finally done."
Aemon took a breath and looked at his work with satisfaction.
Compared to the "Light of the Kingdom" mithril sword, its quality is naturally much inferior.
But in terms of forging technology alone, it is at least two levels higher.
Clap, clap!
A round of applause sounded, and someone brought a cup of cold tea. "Congratulations! You have forged another fine piece."
Jansif smiled and praised it without reservation.
"Thank you."
Aemon was thirsty, so he took the tea and drank it.
"You're welcome."
Jansif stood aside, not caring if the other person thanked her for the praise or the tea.
Since Rhaenyra left the Riverlands, Jansif had been the happiest person.
With a princess from another country present, the girl from the valley had no chance of competing. Now that she's gone, Jansif has a chance to show off.
Clang!
Aemon frowned and suddenly hammered the cooled bronze breastplate.
He was so strong that he smashed a dent directly into it.
Jansif was startled, like a frightened rabbit.
"Still not qualified."
Aemon shook his head and threw the hammer aside.
He had tested it privately and found that the [Bronze Shield] panel provided good defense and was difficult for ordinary swords to pierce.
Copying the ancient runes on the Bronze Shield became a feasible way.
Unfortunately, ordinary bronze objects engraved with the same runes were ineffective.
He wiped the sweat off his forehead and was about to leave.
"Your Highness, Sir Ryan's raven delivered a message."
Steve hurried over, looking anxious.
"What happened?"
Aemon took the letter and knew what the big deal was.
He read a few lines of small text.
The pirates of the Three Women's Kingdom were in turmoil, and merchant ships in the Strait Sea had been attacked.
Seagull Town had been urgently closed, leaving construction materials stuck at the port.
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