Chapter 523: A Maiden Is No Match for a Widow

The mention of the word "ally" made the wound in Corlys' back ache.

Sea Snake, in no mood for pleasantries, replied politely, "Your proposal is not perfect. I don't need to take any risks."

He had allied with Daemon to conquer Tyrosh, only for Daemon to turn around and occupy the Free Cities himself. A few years later, even House Velaryon's future heir was disinherited from their bloodline.

Rhaegar on the Iron Throne was no different. The War for the Stepstones, the War of the Narrow Sea, the War of Conquest in Dorne—each conflict shed Velaryon blood. In the end, the royal family grew stronger, while Velaryon found little peace.

The past was a warning to the future. The Sea Snake didn't want to be a gambler at his age.

"Lord Corlys, don't make a rash decision," Aemond said, his expression unchanged and unembarrassed.

Sea Snake frowned slightly, wondering what Aemond was up to. Ever since he entered the room, Aemond had exuded an aura of determination, giving the impression of being in control.

Clang!

Aemond reached back and drew an axe, smashing it onto the floor. Suddenly, the guard at the door rushed in, sword drawn in a defensive stance.

"Get out!" Sea Snake commanded sternly, "This is a Prince of the Targaryens, do you understand?"

Rhaenys rolled her eyes at this. The guards, confused, looked at each other before withdrawing.

Only then did Corlys lean forward to examine the short-handled axe lying on the floor.

"Huh?"

At first glance, the Sea Snake's sharp eyes immediately spotted the clues.

The axe was about three feet long, resembling a standard lumberjack's tool. It was designed for chopping and splitting, durable enough to handle both wood and enemies.

Examining it closely, his expression turned odd. "Celtigar's axe."

"Yes, a gift from Lord Celtigar," Aemond confirmed, picking up the axe. He gazed at it with one eye, saying with emotion, "A divine weapon, hung on the wall as a decoration, gathering dust."

The axe was silver-gray, with clear ripples on the surface, like an exquisite piece of art.

Rhaenys' face changed instantly. "Celtigar's Axe? That's a Valyrian steel axe!"

Valyrian steel weapons were rare treasures. Apart from Rhaegar, who possessed one hand and one in the other, many ancient houses, including House Velaryon, had none to pass on to their descendants.

Sea Snake was even more shocked than his wife. The three ancient houses that had fled to Westeros from ancient Valyria were all too familiar with each other.

Members of House Targaryen were known for their dual nature: if not mad, then great. House Velaryon was loyal and dependable, with a fearless fighting spirit. But House Celtigar was different. Many of its men had shrewd minds, adept at weighing pros and cons and making hard decisions.

When Aenar, the exile, moved to the continent of Westeros, the Lord of Celtigar made the boldest choice, selling off the family estate to follow him. However, a family good at calculating was not popular, which is why the Targaryens married into the Velaryon family for generations but rarely chose a Celtigar partner.

Looking at the Valyrian steel weapon he had always coveted, the Sea Snake took a long time to recover. "What kind of conditions did you offer to get this axe into your hands?"

Aemond smiled. "A proposal comparable to the one I made to House Velaryon's, plus a marriage to win them over."

"What!" Rhaenys quickly approached, unable to believe it. "You broke your engagement to Cassandra Baratheon and married a daughter of House Celtigar instead?"

"This is not a wise choice," the Sea Snake said, taking a deep breath. "As the Lady of Storm's End, Cassandra has the power to call the entire Stormlands to her side. Giving up that marriage for an uncertain Volantis makes you look like a conceited fool."

Aemond remained unperturbed. "Sometimes, the greatest rewards require the greatest risks."

"You're wrong, Aunt."

Aemond looked at the agitated Rhaenys and explained with a smile, "It's undeniable that I have no interest in your foolish niece. But I will still honor the marriage contract."

Rhaenys was completely flabbergasted.

Aemond turned his head and continued, "I will marry Cassandra as promised and secure the allegiance of the Stormlands nobles."

He wouldn't dare break the engagement; Rhaegar would break his legs if he did.

"To be honest, I'm probably too old to understand the language of young people," Rhaenys said, looking confused as she retreated to her husband's side. Her nephew's few words had almost left her speechless.

Sea Snake was different. His eyes were sharp, fixed on Aemond.

Aemond shrugged. "If I get Volantis, I can marry another wife."

"Boy, Daemon is not a good example!" Sea Snake's face darkened, his tone full of warning. Daemon's actions had become a thorn in his side.

Aemond remained unfazed. "Through friendly conversation, I gained the support of House Celtigar, and with the influence of House Baratheon, we have enough to fight a good battle."

Sea Snake scoffed, "I don't think Bartimos and his son are that stupid."

"The truth is, they agreed." Aemond looked him in the eye and turned his axe as if to prove it.

He had indeed tried to flatter House Celtigar, but it hadn't worked, so he had resorted to a little fire-breathing trick with Sheepstealer. The Celtigars reluctantly agreed and gave up his family axe, the Crab Claw.

The Sea Snake said nothing more, thinking that the one-eyed boy might have used a series of threats and enticements against House Celtigar. The cunning old crab Bartimos might have really been tempted by greed.

"So, what's your decision?" Aemond's eyes burned with anticipation as he awaited the Sea Snake's response.

"Impossible!" The Sea Snake snorted, his voice sharp. "Targaryen men are not trustworthy."

Aemond was taken aback, not expecting the old Sea Snake, who was usually so ambitious, to reject him so decisively. After a moment's thought, he changed the subject, still hoping to win him over. "I received an invitation to Daemon's wedding."

"So what?" The Sea Snake, clearly angered, didn't want to discuss it.

Aemond's eyes flickered as he said slowly, "To be honest, White Worm is just a whore, not worthy of marrying into the royal family."

"Just say what you want to say," the Sea Snake replied impatiently.

"Let's make an alliance. I'll help you out," Aemond proposed, his eyes flashing with a murderous gleam. "As long as White Worm is dead, all difficulties will be resolved."

A whore, dead or alive. Who would know if he did it?

Upon hearing this, the expressions of Sea Snake and Rhaenys changed dramatically.

"Nonsense! What do you take me for?" The Sea Snake felt insulted and ordered Aemond to leave. "One-eyed! If you don't have the king's order, you can leave."

Why would he need a young man to assassinate White Worm? He was the lord of the tides, his veins filled with noble salt blood. Aemond's proposal was simply not taken seriously, as if he were a dog that any Targaryen could summon and dismiss at will.

When the rage had passed, the temperature in the hall seemed to drop to freezing. Aemond stared at the Sea Snake for a long moment before standing up silently. Without a word, he turned and strode away.

The Sea Snake, realizing he might have been too emotional, tried to offer an olive branch. "Your dragon can eat and drink to his heart's content before flying. The guards will feed him enough cattle and sheep."

"No need, my lord," Aemond's voice was flat and cold. He continued out the door with his axe, not looking back.

...

In the Hallway.

Aemond's face was ashen as he quickened his pace. His plan was on the brink of collapse, thwarted by the Sea Snake's harsh rebuke. If Corlys Velaryon refused to ally with him, Aemond decided he wouldn't bother being polite anymore. He had promised House Celtigar a marriage, so he might as well support Daemon's union with White Worm to pave the way for his future.

"Prince, please wait."

A maid's voice called from behind. Aemond pretended not to hear and rounded a corner quickly. The maid, in a hurry, caught up with him, saying, "Princess Rhaenys asked me to tell you that it's getting late, and you can stay at the castle for the night."

Sea Snake had driven Aemond away on impulse, but Rhaenys, understanding her nephew had no ill will and was merely trying to forge an alliance, spoke to her husband to smooth things over.

Aemond scoffed. "A prince's heart cannot be won over with a meal and a night's stay."

He viewed his aunt's offer as insincere; Driftmark, after all, was not Targaryen territory. Without further words, he turned a corner.

As he did, he collided with a soft, delicate body.

"Ah!"

The woman let out a small cry and hurriedly backed away. Before Aemond could see her face, she quickly held up her skirt and retreated. Glancing back, he saw a small, delicate figure with long, silver-blonde hair in braids and a pale yellow dress with a sash. Her partially revealed face showed milk-white skin with a few freckles.

Aemond was momentarily distracted, almost mistaking her for his sister Helaena. Once she had disappeared, he grabbed the maid's hand and asked, "Who is she?"

The Sea Snake didn't seem to have any unmarried niece.

The maid, trembling, replied honestly, "It's Lady Celine."

"Celine..." Aemond muttered, his eyes flashing with a strange light. "Laenor's widow, the previous Lord Celtigar's daughter."

He remembered her. Laenor had attended a dinner party with his new wife many years ago—a not-so-beautiful wife, probably now in her twenties.

"Prince, may I leave now?" the maid asked, terrified, with tears in her eyes.

Aemond laughed, disinterested in her. "No hurry. First, show me to a guest room. I can't let my aunt down."

"Huh?" The maid was stunned.

"Find me a guest room. Don't you understand?" Aemond, somewhat moody, shook off the clumsy maid and walked away. "Don't worry about me. I'll just wander around the castle."

...

The Vale, The Eyrie

The Eyrie's seven slender white towers of varying heights created an imposing silhouette against the sky.

"Roar!"

A jet-black dragon soared at high speed, leaping over the towering Giant's Lance and circling The Eyrie. Its massive body descended, vanishing into the surging sea of clouds.

The dragon's wings, spread wide like scythes, sliced through the turbulent waters of Alyssa's Tears.

...

The Maiden's Tower

Plop!

A small door flew open as if a wild boar had broken it down.

A series of magpie-like giggles followed, and a little girl with a bright smile ran out. She had short, brown hair, big dark eyes, and skin that glowed white in the sun.

"Jessamyn, don't chase me!" she cried, her short legs pumping beneath an orange skirt.

Fiery-haired Jessamyn chased after her, threatening, "Stop, or I'll spank your little bottom."

"No! No!" the little girl protested, trotting along and slipping into the lush backyard with ease.

Bang!

She bumped into a pillar, her small nose turning red. "Ouch~~" she cried out in pain, backing up and muttering, "It hurts, my nose is crooked."

"Really?" A gentle voice sounded, and a tall figure blocked the sunlight overhead.

The little girl froze and looked up in surprise. She saw a handsome older brother with long silver-blonde hair and a beautiful appearance. His eyes were smiling, and he looked at her tenderly.

Lyanna tilted her head and clenched her small hands into fists, pretending to be a little lord. "Hello!" she greeted, thinking, "Silver hair and purple eyes, he looks just like my sister."

Rhaegar leaned down and smiled. "Hello, little one."

"Mm," the little girl nodded but didn't say anything, her big eyes rolling around as if thinking about what to say next.

"Little one, do you remember who I am?" Rhaegar asked, delighted, itching to touch the little girl's furry head.

The little girl, only up to his knees and no more than three or four years old, looked up at him with a confused, adorable expression.

"No!"

The little girl looked up at Rhaegar and asked, "Do you remember who I am?"

"Of course," Rhaegar replied, unable to hold back any longer. He scooped the little girl into his arms and said with a smile, "You're Lyanna, Lyanna Targaryen."

Lyanna's eyes widened in surprise. "You know me?"

Though she felt a faint familiarity, the warmth and coziness of being in his arms reassured her. She looked around, then leaned her head close to Rhaegar's ear and whispered, "Then who are you?"

Rhaegar smiled, feeling her breath on his ear. His heart warmed and he felt a twinge of sadness. The last time he had set foot in the Eyrie was for Lyanna's second name day. Children have short memories, and it had been so long that she didn't recognize him.

Holding Lyanna's small bottom, Rhaegar carried her toward the main tower. "You'll know when we meet your mother," he said.

"Oh," Lyanna responded quietly, allowing herself to be held.

She looked at the passing flowers and plants, a look of intimacy flashing in her big eyes. Tentatively, she slowly rested her head on Rhaegar's chest.

"Huh?" Seeing that Rhaegar didn't react, Lyanna's eyes sparkled and she happily nestled closer.

She was like a little sun, warming people's hearts with her bright smile. Rhaegar, feeling exceptionally cheerful, couldn't help but reach out and rub her furry head.

"Humph!" Lyanna pretended to be modest, like a spoiled kitten, raising her hand to rub her head a few times.

Rhaegar looked at her again and again, his heart filled with joy.

...

Main Tower, Lobby

As Rhaegar entered, he nearly collided with a hurried-looking Jessamyn.

"Jessamyn, what are you doing?" Lyanna poked her head out and asked softly.

Jessamyn was taken aback but quickly recovered. "Your Grace, Lady Jeyne is in the hall."

"What do you want?" Rhaegar asked, noticing her flustered demeanor.

"Nothing, I was just looking for the Princess," Jessamyn replied smoothly, glancing at Lyanna.

"Hmph!" Lyanna snorted, then turned around and hugged Rhaegar's neck, ignoring her strict foster mother. Jessamyn was always controlling her, and Lyanna resented it.

"Try to control your temper," Rhaegar said, amused. He enjoyed the opportunity and continued walking with Jessamyn.

Main Hall

Jeyne sat in the main seat, her elbows propped on the armrests. Her long chestnut hair hung down to her chest, and her expression was indescribably complex.

Her female companion, Skylar, stood nearby, holding an incubator from which white smoke billowed. Inside was a bronze-colored dragon egg.

(Word count: 2,443)