Storm's End.
This towering castle stands on the coast, under the year-round influence of a stormy environment.
At noon, dark clouds rolled in, and a young, silver dragon flew out from them. It was Seasmoke, the dragon who had escaped from the Stepstones. Her pupils sharp, Seasmoke shuttled through the dark clouds, staring from a distance at the strange-looking castle. It looked like an unshakable stone pillar.
"Land, Seasmoke," the rider ordered.
Seasmoke circled and landed in the courtyard of Storm's End. Lightning flashed and thunder roared in the sky as a cold rain began to fall.
"The timing is just right," Laenor Velaryon thought, secretly rejoicing that he would not have to travel in the rain. Even Seasmoke, a veteran of naval warfare, would instinctively resist a thunderstorm.
At that moment, the castle gate opened. "Ser Laenor, my lord has been waiting for you," a team of guards said, coming out to greet him.
"Take good care of my dragon. It needs something to eat," Laenor smiled politely.
"Can it eat sheep?" asked a middle-aged man dressed as a steward.
"Of course. Seasmoke loves them."
The Round Hall.
Due to the stormy environment, the castle has few and small windows, so the lighting is poor. A chandelier hangs from the ceiling, and braziers are arranged throughout the hall. A sturdy, strong figure sat firmly on the lord's throne. He was an old man with a resolute face. Despite his gray hair and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, he still looked like a brave warrior. If you didn't look closely, you might think he was a middle-aged man.
"Lord Boremund, I send you my regards on behalf of my mother," Laenor said, walking into the hall and bowing.
"You are welcome. I am your mother's uncle," Boremund raised his hand. Laenor looked at him and saw that he was smiling, looking less like a serious veteran and more like an amiable elder. Laenor breathed a secret sigh of relief and greeted him with a smile.
"How is your father now?" Boremund asked slowly. Laenor was not on guard and answered honestly.
They chatted for a while. Three figures, two large and one small, came up the stairs. The man was tall with a large belly. The woman was slender and held a little girl, about four or five years old, in her arm. They were obviously a family, all with black hair and eyes.
"Uncle Borros, Aunt Elenda," Laenor said, greeting them hurriedly.
"Hello, dragon-riding nephew!" Borros laughed, patting his belly. He was the only son of Lord Boremund. He had inherited the Baratheon family's tall physique but had become overweight in middle age due to alcoholism.
Laenor scratched his head and laughed. He knew his cousin well. Relying on his martial prowess, he acted recklessly and was illiterate—a pure scoundrel.
"Alright, let us talk business," Boremund said, his demeanor turning serious.
Laenor was in awe. Boremund did not like to hide things. "Your father should have told you about the marriage between our two families," he said directly.
"Yes," Laenor nodded.
"That is my first granddaughter, the eldest daughter of House Baratheon," Boremund said, pointing to the delicate, black-haired girl standing next to her mother.
"Ah?" Laenor was stunned. Even though he was prepared, he was still surprised.
"Cassandra is young, but that will not affect your engagement," Boremund said strictly. "When she flowers at the age of twelve, you can get married. In two years after that, it will not be too late to have children."
Cassandra Baratheon was four and a half years old, seventeen years younger than the twenty-one-year-old Laenor. It did not matter if the man was older; they would simply wait until the woman grew up. First, they would make the marriage contract to strengthen the alliance between their two houses.
"I have no problem with it, as long as my cousin is willing," Laenor said, taking a deep breath. He could not refuse. What was wrong with having a young bride? His own father was more than ten years older than his mother. Besides, he liked men.
"Do not worry. Cassandra will be so happy to marry a dragonrider that she will not be able to sleep for several nights," Boremund said, his eyes filled with satisfaction. In the Seven Kingdoms, there were only a handful of dragonriders.
"That is good," Laenor forced a smile.
"But!" Boremund changed the subject, his voice stern. "I do not care what the rumors outside say. When you marry my granddaughter, you must give her an heir. Men can mess around, but the purpose of the marriage must be achieved. The future lord of Driftmark must have Baratheon blood."
Laenor's face changed immediately, and he fell into deep thought. After a while, he nodded slowly, his expression full of pain. "I will," he said.
A few days later, once the news of the marriage between House Velaryon and House Baratheon was released, it sparked heated discussions throughout the Seven Kingdoms. At the same time, news of the Sea Snake's occupation of Tyrosh spread quietly. The nobles were panicking, privately discussing the expansion of Velaryon power.
In King's Landing, at the Mud Gate.
A three-masted sailing ship was being loaded with supplies for Dragonstone.
"Princess, someone else has signed up," Ser Steffon Darklyn, dressed in the silver armor and white cloak of the Kingsguard, stepped forward to report.
"Let us go and see," Rhaenyra said, looking disheartened. She turned and walked back to the city gate. Bad things always came one after another. First, Aemon had occupied the Eyrie and proclaimed himself "King of the Vale." Then, the Sea Snake had taken Tyrosh and allied with the Baratheons.
"Lord Bartimos Celtigar said that he hopes to arrive by noon," Ser Lorent Marbrand, another of the Kingsguard, added.
Rhaenyra paused, and a hint of joy appeared on her beautiful face. The royal fleet had been preparing, and recently, many enthusiastic applicants from the Crownlands and the Riverlands had come forward. However, they had no experienced naval commanders. House Celtigar of Claw Isle was descended from Old Valyria and had made its fortune from the sea. The arrival of Lord Bartimos would solve the problem.
Rhaenyra walked briskly. The atmosphere in King's Landing was becoming increasingly depressing. The king convened the Small Council almost daily to guard against threats from the Sea Snake. Everyone had the same idea: a war was probably coming.
Mid-December. The Vale.
Light snow began to fall. The Mountains of the Moon began to accumulate snow, gradually blocking the roads.
In Runestone, Aemon rushed back to his hall from outside, covered in snow.
"Come in," Johanna, wearing a black dress, said as she walked over.
"It is so cold," Aemon said, his eyelashes frosted over. After riding a dragon in the snow, he had almost frozen to death. He had just sent Jeynesif back to her home and had finally gained his mother's understanding.
"Who told you not to come back? I thought you were living at the Gates of the Moon," Johanna said, full of resentment. Nevertheless, she helped him brush the snowflakes from his shoulders.
"The Gates of the Moon are in the Vale of Arryn, which is convenient for meeting with vassals," Aemon said, helpless. Runestone was good, but its geographical location was a bit remote. Still, it did not matter. The Gates of the Moon would be used for meetings, Runestone for farming and garrisons, and his new capital in the central Vale would be the political center. Later, resources would be allocated to Gulltown.
"Come into my room to warm up," Johanna said, shooing away her shadow-cat and entering the room with Aemon on her arm.
"There is a letter for you from Driftmark," she glanced at him.
Aemon's spirits soared.
In her warm study, Johanna half-knelt on the ground. After twisting and turning for a while, she chuckled. "I found it." She poked her head out from under the desk, holding a letter.
Aemon's mouth twitched slightly. He had miscalculated. Johanna's study, where she worked, was also where she slept. Fortunately, she stopped at the right time and knelt on the ground to play with her cat.
Aemon sat in the chair and checked the envelope. It was a letter from Laena. It said that Tyrosh had fallen and that the Sea Snake had suppressed it with an iron fist, gaining initial control of the government. Laenor was engaged to Cassandra Baratheon. The Stormlands had formed an alliance with the Velaryons. She told him to be careful and not to get involved in the Stepstones, and also not to return to King's Landing so as not to anger the king. In short, when she returned to the Vale, she was going to tear Jeyne apart.
"Huh?" Aemon was stunned. Is the context incoherent? Why did she take such a long detour just for that? "Jeyne is not an easy person to deal with," he thought to himself.
"The Black Rose network is almost ready," Johanna suddenly spoke. "King's Landing has sent thirty good men—enough to find out the news. I also sent two people to the Stepstones under the guise of smuggling. There are not enough reliable people right now, so this is all I can do."
"It is okay. That is enough," Aemon pondered.
"By the way," Johanna's charming eyes turned to him. "King's Landing has a letter for you."
"Where is it?"
"In the drawer."
Aemon quickly found it. It was a comforting letter from his uncle, asking him to return to King's Landing as soon as possible to explain the misunderstanding.
"Oh," Aemon couldn't help but curl his lips. Speak of my uncle, and he appears.
A week later, the time came.
King's Landing.
In the morning, the sun was high in the sky. Suddenly, a huge creature broke through the clouds and soared across Blackwater Bay.
"Hiss—" Vermithor raised his head and roared as he swooped down over the city.
"Hiss!" The next moment, a silver-gray dragon followed closely behind.
The two giant dragons immediately attracted the attention of the people below, who couldn't help but exclaim. These were the dragons of the Old King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne, and now they belonged to Aemon, the "Lord of the Vale." Vermithor and Silverwing flew side by side, circling King's Landing three times.
"Land, Vermithor!"
Finally, they slowly flew toward the Dragonpit. Vermithor roared and landed in the open space in front of the great dome. Silverwing followed suit, landing next to her partner.
Aemon sat firmly in his saddle. Looking around, he smiled. "King's Landing," he said to himself, "it is time to vindicate this king."
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