The next morning.
The sun rose, and the light shone into the warm bed through the stained-glass windows.
Aemon was half-asleep, his eyelids slightly open.
A person lay beside him, silver-gold hair scattered, covering her face, and the white straps of her dress slipped, revealing one fragrant shoulder.
The quilt was pressed beneath her body, rising and falling with her breath.
"So cold ~"
Aemon couldn't open his eyes and burrowed over with a muffled sound.
How could someone not cover themselves with a quilt and even press it down so tightly?
They deserve to be beheaded!
His head was muddled, and he subconsciously sought a warm embrace, reaching out with both hands to hug tightly.
Feeling uncomfortable, he even rubbed his cheek hard against her.
It felt a bit soft.
Like a freshly baked small cake.
Finding a satisfying position, he fell asleep.
"Mmm ~ ~"
Rhaenyra's silver-gold hair swayed, and her small mouth opened slightly, emitting a soft moan.
It felt like she was being crushed by Syrax, and her waist was about to break.
"Good girl, don't make trouble."
She was also muddled with sleep, reaching out and groping along the other person's white shirt, gently caressing a head of silver-gold short hair.
Touching the soft hair, she suddenly realized that the dragon in her arms was not the dragon she thought it was.
"Huh?"
Rhaenyra laboriously opened her eyes, seeing clearly the figure in her arms.
In an instant, she silently turned her head away.
Last night had already been enough of a ruckus… …
Both sides had tried their best to restrain their tempers, so that it didn't further evolve into a terrible, bloody incident.
"Aemon, wake up."
Rhaenyra was unbearably sleepy, her face flushed with the afterglow of sleep, and she gently patted the other person with her fair hand.
"… …"
The other person had no response and even started to snore softly.
Rhaenyra tilted her head, resigned.
After a minute.
The sleepiness gradually disappeared, and her brain uncontrollably began to replay the events.
Her father's scolding, the lonely banquet, and… …
Rhaenyra's cheeks flushed red, and she closed her eyes tightly, unable to stop herself from clutching the quilt.
Thinking of the intimate moments, her whole body felt as soft as a cookie.
As if it would crumble at the slightest touch.
"… …"
The other person had no reaction, and the snoring grew a little louder.
His breath sprayed into her arms, hitting her skin through her nightgown.
Rhaenyra seemed drunk, her breathing gradually becoming heavier, and her eyelashes trembled incessantly.
When she drank too much, she felt this embarrassed.
"Hachoo ~"
Rhaenyra yawned, her eyes holding a pool of water, and sleepiness attacked her again.
She was both tired and sleepy.
Her body gently leaned forward, resting her chin on the head of silver-gold short hair.
The white, delicate long legs that had been straddling the quilt retracted, instead draping over the strong waist that faced her legs.
One dragon used the other person as a pillow, and when the other dragon woke up, it also used the other person as a pillow.
"Aemon ~ ~"
Rhaenyra muttered, thinking about many things in her drowsy state.
She finally recognized Aemon's true nature.
Dragons are chaotic and disorderly.
They are born fickle, restless.
The only way to tame a dragon is to satisfy the desires deep within its heart.
Before her mother passed away, she had enjoyed her parents' unreserved love and doting.
In comparison, Aemon's upbringing was much more stringent.
His willingness to abandon Runestone and switch to developing the Riverlands already indicated a complete distrust of his parents.
Therefore, his handling of relationships was also more stringent.
The late Grandfather Jaehaerys, Alicent whom he called "good friend".
Besides these two, he was probably warm on the surface but cold at heart to everyone else.
"Alicent is not a good person."
Rhaenyra couldn't open her eyes due to sleepiness, but she still subconsciously denied it, attacking her former friend.
Her fair hand slid from the silver hair, grabbing the white shirt stretched flat across his broad shoulders.
Her five fingers slowly exerted force, crumpling the shirt.
She had to guard this dragon well, preventing it from being disturbed by the outside world.
Soon, she fell asleep.
… …
The sun was high in the sky.
Rhaenyra slept peacefully, her cheek pillowed on soft, silky silver-gold hair.
And by the bedside, a pair of eyes quietly scrutinized the scene.
Aemon sat disheveled, constantly kneading his sore neck.
"What did this guy do last night?"
Aemon looked wooden, reaching under the quilt to feel around.
The sheets were wet and cold, no wonder someone was riding the quilt to sleep.
"Forget it, I can't be bothered to expose you."
Aemon helplessly rubbed his forehead, vaguely remembering someone whimpering in the quilt last night.
He got up and went out to wash up.
"Prince."
Two maids in red and white outfits were already waiting, holding a basin of water and a towel.
"Leave."
Aemon took the things and turned back to the room.
"Yes."
The two maids obediently left.
They were orphans from Newfield, selected as maids by the Lady Steward Johanna, specializing in taking care of His Royal Highness the Prince's daily life.
Bang!
The door closed gently, afraid of disturbing the sleeping person.
However,
"Aemon ~"
Rhaenyra sat in front of the bedside table, tilting her head to comb her messy silver-gold hair.
Seeing him enter, she smiled and waved: "Come."
As if she had something good to share.
Aemon was unmoved, washing his face by himself.
The opposite was a complete rogue, just coveting his body.
"Humph ~ ~"
Rhaenyra was very dissatisfied, took the comb and walked to his side, opening her lotus arms to wrap around his neck from behind.
A quiet morning, warm sunshine.
People who woke up early in the morning should snuggle together.
That's how it was in the picture book stories.
Rhaenyra's personality was truly amazing.
Her body was so petite, full of boldness and wildness.
"I'm leaving."
Rhaenyra suddenly spoke, bumping her head against the other person's.
Honestly, she hadn't stayed long enough.
Gulltown had no disputes, she didn't have to fight with Alicent, and there was someone to rely on.
"You want to stay?"
Aemon asked.
Rhaenyra shook her head and smiled in amusement: "You know the consequences of me staying."
Violating her father's will, she would really give the Iron Throne heir to Aegon the Younger.
That was the only thing she could offer.
Power is power, power is strength.
If she lost the right of inheritance, what would she rely on to hold onto the person in her arms?
She was afraid that she would become like those noble ladies whose beauty faded and love waned, wearing a green hat from a husband who was stealing from her.
Aemon glanced sideways, handing over the wet towel.
He didn't know what Rhaenyra was thinking, otherwise he would definitely tell her.
Some people seemed like they hadn't worn a hat yet, but in fact they had already put it on long ago.
"Thank you."
The correct version is being read! 6 = 9 + Book _ Bar first published this novel.
Rhaenyra took the towel and smiled happily.
After busying for a while.
The two dressed well, and Aemon was pressed into a chair.
Rhaenyra bit a black hair tie with her silver teeth, combing the other person's hair and tying a knot behind his head.
After several months, the short sideburns had long become longer, with the ends level with his shoulders.
The silver-gold long hair naturally draped down, with a hair tie tied in layers, making the hair neat and orderly.
This was a common hairstyle for Targaryen men.
"Look, how is it?"
After completing the task, Rhaenyra couldn't hide her pride.
Aemon encouraged loudly: "Very good."
"Of course, consider it a farewell gift to you."
Rhaenyra pointed to the black hair tie, her lips slightly raised.
The hair tie was just made of black steel, and could not be considered precious.
But a small gift carries great affection.
Aemon glanced at her and also smiled.
A look of provocation flowed in their eyes, and they stubbornly pressed their heads against each other.
… …
Noon.
The princess's retinue drove out of Raven's Roost, and the three-headed red dragon flag temporarily stopped.
Inside the white wheeled palace, Aemon pulled out the mithril sword "Light of the Kingdom" and stuffed it into Rhaenyra's hand.
"Do you remember what I taught you?"
"Hold the sword hilt, keep your wrist level with the sword, and then thrust it out."
"That's right."
Aemon said with a serious expression: "When you encounter someone who makes things difficult for you, thrust the sword out, it's enough to break through most armor."
Rhaenyra listened carefully.
Her strength was small and her skills were insufficient.
It was enough to learn just one thrust used in single-handed swordsmanship.
"Alright, be careful on the road."
Aemon instructed, pushing the door open and walking down the wheeled palace.
There is no feast in the world that doesn't end.
"Your Royal Highness the Prince."
Cole rode a white horse, perfunctorily nodded, considered it a salute and greeting.
Aemon directly ignored him, returning to the front of the Vale knights' formation.
"Soldiers, move out!"
Cole shouted, and the princess's retinue set off again.
He had been blowing the cold wind all night, without waiting for the princess to return to her room.
His heart was filled with mixed feelings, which ultimately boiled down to the unfairness of fate.
He hoped that the king wouldn't find out, and wouldn't be angered and cut off his head to stick on a spear.
At least in his eyes, such behavior shouldn't happen before marriage.
The Seven Gods are watching the world from above.
Cole's mood was heavy, but no one paid attention to him.
The white wheeled palace opened the curtains, and Rhaenyra leaned out to look back.
A silver-haired figure rode a white stag, leading the Vale knights to guard in place.
Rhaenyra pursed her lips and smiled, her heart like a blooming flower.
After a long while, the princess's retinue truly went far away.
Aemon was very calm, tugged on the reins in his hand, signaling the white stag to turn around.
Rumble!
The Vale knights galloped like the wind, stepping over the triple-earth-paved River Road, crossing Raven's Roost and returning.
… …
Time flies, like a white horse passing through a crack.
Mid-October.
The sun was scorching like fire, and the Riverlands' climate was sweltering.
Clang! Clang!
The crisp sound of gold and iron clashing was endless, colliding with intense sparks.
Aemon wore only a vest, and the iron hammer in his hand was powerful and swift.
Boom!
The furnace charcoal fire surged, engulfing a bronze plate armor.
Aemon's eyes were serious, sweat dripping from his forehead, paying attention to the slightest difference in the falling hammer.
It had been two months since Rhaenyra left Gulltown.
Gulltown had entered a stage of rapid development, and His Royal Highness the Prince had nothing to do, focusing on studying forging techniques.
After a cup of tea.
The front chest of the bronze plate armor was forged, and ancient runes were engraved on both sides of the surface, embellishing the monotonous plain color.
"Whew, it's finally done."
Aemon breathed a sigh of relief, looking at the work with satisfaction.
Compared to the mithril sword "Light of the Kingdom", the quality was naturally much inferior.
But solely in terms of forging craftsmanship, it was at least two stories higher.
Clap clap clap!
A burst of applause sounded, and someone handed over a cup of cool tea: "Congratulations, you have forged another masterpiece."
Jeyne was smiling, praising without reservation.
"Thank you."
Aemon was thirsty, took the cool tea and drank it all.
"You're welcome."
Jeyne stood aside, not caring whether the other person was thanking her praise or the cool tea.
Since Rhaenyra left Gulltown, the happiest person was probably her.
With a princess of a country in front, how could a Gulltown girl have any competitiveness?
Now that the person was gone.
She had the opportunity to perform.
Clang!
Aemon frowned, suddenly hammering the cooling bronze plate armor's breastplate.
His strength was great, directly smashing out a dent.
Jeyne was startled, like a frightened rabbit.
"Still not good enough."
Aemon shook his head, casually discarding the hammer.
He had privately tested it, the [Bronze Shield] exchanged from the panel had considerable defensive power, and ordinary swords and blades were hard to wound it.
Imitating the ancient runes on the [Bronze Shield] had become a feasible path.
Unfortunately, engraving the same ancient runes on ordinary bronzeware had no effect at all.
Wiping off his sweat, he was about to leave.
"Your Royal Highness the Prince, Ser Lyonel's raven message."
Steve rushed over, his expression anxious.
"What happened?"
Aemon took the letter, speculating what could be a big deal.
Entering his eyes were a few lines of small characters.
The pirates of the Stepstones were causing trouble, and merchant ships in the Narrow Sea were attacked.
Gulltown was urgently closed, and construction materials were stuck at the port.