Jeyne's eyes flashed with panic as she clutched the wet cloth she had been using.
"You have one chance to refuse," Aemon said.
"I…"
Before she could finish her words, her smooth arm was grabbed. Her mind went blank for a moment, and with a splash, the white towel wrapped around her was torn away as she was pulled from the bathtub. Dizzy, she was thrown onto his broad shoulders and carried out of the bathing chamber.
Jeyne felt shy and utterly drained of strength. In such close contact, the scent of him—a heady mix of man and dragon—filled her nose, making her dizzy. She was aware only that her body was shaking and that she wanted to shout, but her voice was hoarse.
"Don't take advantage of the situation; it will be invalidated immediately," the desperate, legalistic thought echoed in her mind.
…
The next day, dawn had just broken, the morning sun piercing the clouds that shrouded the Giant's Lance. Atop the Maiden's Tower of the Eyrie, the familiar moon-and-falcon banner was gone, replaced by a new, three-part standard rising in its place. The shield was divided horizontally: the top half featured the three-headed red dragon of House Targaryen on a black field. The bottom half was then divided vertically, with the moon-and-falcon of House Arryn on a sky-blue field to the left, and the rune-stones of House Royce on a bronze field to the right.
Inside the lord's bedchamber, the spacious room was decorated with crossed swords and a stag's head. There was no warmth of a lady's touch; it was cold and lonely. Aemon enjoyed his breakfast while looking around. Through the narrow glass window, he could see his new personal banner flying from the white marble walls of the Eyrie.
A soft whimper came from the corner of the room. Jeyne climbed down from the soft couch, her long, chestnut hair draped over her smooth back, giving her a hint of fragile beauty.
"Would you like to eat something?" Aemon asked.
"No," Jeyne answered stiffly, tilting her head and lowering her eyes. The wonders of the previous night were still vivid in her mind, and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
Aemon nodded.
After a long while, Jeyne seemed to process everything and began to dress. She put on a dignified royal-blue gown, black earrings, and a sapphire necklace. From a long-untouched jewelry box, she retrieved bracelets and rings and put them on. Once her chestnut hair was carefully combed, she was ready. She sat at the table without saying a word.
"Very beautiful," Aemon praised.
"You said more than just those lies last night," Jeyne glanced at him sideways, clearly dissatisfied.
Aemon responded with action, taking her hand and placing it on his cheek. Jeyne hesitated for a moment before uncurling her fingers and gently stroking his handsome face. The owner of this face had taken her virginity last night. The good news was that she was no longer the "Maid of the Vale." The bad news was that she had been utterly devoured.
Aemon looked at her with a fond expression and whispered, "You look best in light, elegant gowns. The one you're wearing is too old-fashioned and covers up your best features."
Jeyne looked down at her dress. "Yes," she agreed. The royal blue was solemn, creating a sense of distance. But it was her favorite.
Seeing this, Aemon smiled. "Be a good little Lady of the Eyrie," he teased gently. After their night together, he felt he had figured her out. She was typically cold on the outside but warm within, much like his mother, Lady Rhea. He knew this kind of stubborn, pure-blooded Vale woman could not be dominated by force alone. He had to show her the care and responsibility of a husband, so they could admire each other as equals.
"You are not qualified to be my husband," Jeyne suddenly spoke up.
"Tell me," Aemon said without looking up; he had expected this.
Jeyne raised her chin slightly, trying to save face. "I am the Lady of the Eyrie. Last night was a momentary indulgence. That does not mean you have captured my body and soul." The Eyrie accepts your rule, but the conditions must still be negotiated.
"I did not take the initiative last night," Aemon looked her up and down.
Jeyne's face flushed, and she turned her head with a sneer. "You performed well." An old cow eating young grass!
Aemon suppressed a laugh at her attempt to act coy after taking advantage of him. "Then we should negotiate the conditions, and you should meet my requirements."
Jeyne's face turned even redder. She wrinkled the fabric of her skirt with her hands, trying to appear calm. Aemon chuckled to himself. It seemed all women in high positions had one thing in common: they loved to be in control. Jeyne was a loner, but there was a fire hidden in her heart, and when it burned, it became a raging inferno.
Suppressing her romantic feelings, Jeyne said seriously, "If you want the support of the Eyrie, you will marry me legally and preserve House Arryn's castle, lands, and titles."
"No problem," Aemon replied. "The Eyrie and the Vale of Arryn will still belong to you. Control of the Mountains of the Moon will belong to Runestone. The banners will be merged into one."
"It is a deal," Jeyne said.
"A Targaryen always keeps his word," Aemon smiled, taking a sip of milk.
Jeyne glanced at the white stain on the corner of his mouth. She turned her head away quietly and touched her flat belly. So this is what it feels like to have a man. It's completely different from what I imagined.
Aemon finished his breakfast. He needed to recover his strength. When he was with Laena, he felt at a disadvantage. Now, after a night with Jeyne, he felt he was the one who had been taken advantage of. She had worked him relentlessly. It was only thanks to his enhanced physique that he hadn't been completely drained. It was true that a mature woman could be caring, but she could also be truly insatiable. He sighed to himself.
King's Landing. The King's Chamber.
Viserys lay in a rocking chair, a vacant look in his eyes. The situation in the Stepstones was unclear, and the war between the Three Daughters had affected trade in every port. These days, even the Mud Gate was only permitted to bring in food. But that wasn't what worried him most.
"King of the Vale?" he whispered, a hint of gloom in his eyes. Someone was deliberately spreading rumors that were very unfavorable to his nephew. However, there was no smoke without fire. His nephew's actions gave Viserys the sense that he was losing control.
"Alas!" Viserys sighed deeply. Logically, he should trust the boy he helped raise. But selfishness made him anxious. Today it was the Vale; where would it be tomorrow? If his nephew developed other ambitions, his reign could end. Power… I do not want to let it go.
"Ser Harrold, come in," Viserys shouted.
The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard pushed the door open.
"Call Rhaenyra. Tell her I wish to speak with her about something important," Viserys said.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
A moment later, there was another knock. "Come in!" Viserys called. The door opened and Otto appeared.
"What has happened?" Viserys prayed silently.
Otto took a letter from his sleeve. "A report from the Vale, Your Majesty. The Eyrie, Longbow Hall, Ninestars, and other castles have raised a new three-part banner." Viserys took the letter and checked its contents. At the bottom was a sketch of the new sigil.
"That boy succeeded," Viserys said, surprised.
"It seems so," Otto frowned. "Many nobles in the Vale suspect that Lady Jeyne is being held captive. They are planning to start a rebellion." Otto knew the importance of his wording. Though Aemon had not claimed a title, the Eyrie had surrendered. The lords of the Vale resisting him was, therefore, an act of rebellion.
"How many?" Viserys was shocked.
"There are many diehards in the Vale," Otto replied calmly. This was not just a war to rescue a lady; it was a desperate counterattack by the Vale nobility against Targaryen influence.
Viserys frowned deeply. The last thing he wanted was bloodshed.
"King's Landing is too far away," Otto said, taking an objective stance. "We can only hope that Prince Aemon has his own means to deal with them." This incident was beyond his expectations. Not long after the rumor spread, the Eyrie had fallen. Aemon hadn't refuted the rumor; he had made it a fact. He played by his own rules.
The door knocked again. Rhaenyra entered.
"I will take my leave," Otto said, retreating with a knowing look. As he and Rhaenyra passed, their eyes met with mutual hostility.
"Rhaenyra, you're just in time," Viserys smiled at his daughter. He had plans for her. He wanted her to visit Storm's End to calm the vassals, to go to Dragonstone and form a royal fleet, and to get news from the Vale. The crown's own forces were still too weak.
The Vale. Runestone, the Lonely Mountain.
"Roar!" From the depths of the dragon's nest came Silverwing's angry roar. The gorgeous silver-gray dragon had been sleeping soundly until the silver-haired boy woke her.
"Sorry, sorry," Aemon apologized insincerely, a scarf tied over his face to ward off the smell as he walked through the dragon droppings. Silverwing bared her fangs, eager to spit dragonflame at him.
He approached the bronze sacred tree. It now stood over ten feet high. Three bronze bells grew on a branch, but when he touched one, it did not fall. Not enough time had passed.
He returned to the town to mobilize his troops. Led by the hardline houses, a group of old Vale lords had turned against him completely, assembling more than ten thousand men to march into the Vale of Arryn. A difficult situation, Aemon thought wryly. He would have to be careful to burn as few rebels as possible. In his eyes, their final counterattack was childish, but a fight was a fight.
"Instead of this, I should be thinking about how to deal with my partners," Aemon shuddered. Jeyne, with her domineering personality, had already sent a raven demanding they marry when he came of age. "Laena is the gentlest; she will surely forgive me," he muttered. "Rhaenyra is more stubborn. I expect cold violence from her." He was now bound to three women. There was no way around it. It was easier to sleep with Jeyne than to persuade her, and it had avoided a bloody war. After all, Westeros was about human relationships, not just fighting and killing. By marrying her, he gained legitimacy and strengthened his rule, while she secured her status.
The rumors have spread to the Vale of Arryn, he thought. It was said he had imprisoned Jeyne, occupied the Eyrie, and named himself "King of the Vale." He just wanted to set the record straight. Well… let me clarify: the rumor is true. The only difference was that he hadn't imprisoned Jeyne; she wanted to imprison him in the Eyrie's bedchamber. Having tasted the marrow, she had become possessive.
"Cuckoo, cuckoo…" Suddenly, the bronze bird on the sacred tree's second branch opened its beak and called out. Aemon was stunned. He held his hand under the bird's beak. Its eyes rolled as if it were alive, and a few grains of wheat dropped into his palm. There were five plump, firm grains, each with a beautiful orange outer shell. A living bronze tree that produces magical seeds?
"Squeak." The golden-nosed rat scrambled from his pocket, its eyes flashing.
"Do you want this?" Aemon held out a grain. The little creature nodded repeatedly, begging for the treat.
"No," Aemon said, flicking its head. He carefully collected the five grains of wheat. The rat's greed proved they were special.
"Squeak!" the rat cried in pain. Another flick to the head sent stars dancing in the creature's vision. Aemon stuffed it back into his pocket.
He returned to the Hall of Plenty.
"Ser Robb has summoned three hundred of the Second Sons, and Ser Gunthor led two thousand men into the Vale of Arryn yesterday," Johanna reported.
"No more Second Sons?"
"There was not enough time. We must wait."
"It is enough," Aemon said. He carefully handed her a small pouch. "There are five grains of wheat in here. You must plant them yourself."
"Yes, Prince," Johanna said, taking the pouch.
Just then, Maester Muntor came downstairs. "Prince, a letter from the Eyrie."
"Read it."
"Lady Jeyne says the rebels have entered the Vale of Arryn and divided their forces, heading toward the Bloody Gate and Runestone," the maester read, his expression strange.
Aemon smiled. "If they dare come into my valley," he said, "I will burn them all and sow wheat on their ashes."
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