59 Chapter 58 -Banner Of Hope

124 AC

The twenty third day of the tenth moon

Jeyne's POV

The resounding cheers of the clansmen echoed through the crisp air as I made my departure atop Vedros, my trusted steed. The weight of worry pressed heavily on my heart, and I fervently whispered prayers to the Seven, imploring them to shield Ulf from any misfortune that might befall him. The heavens seemed to share my anxiety, for soon enough, raindrops began to descend, veiling the world in a somber curtain.

I pushed forward, urging Vedros to maintain his pace, my determination to reach safety overriding the discomfort of the downpour. The memory of the clansmen's fierce pursuit spurred me on; I dared not risk capture by halting my escape.

Through the haze of rain and mist, a sight emerged that tugged at the fraying threads of my unease. A procession of knights, bedecked in the unmistakable livery of House Redfort and House Corbray, materialized in the distance. Their banners, bearing the emblem of House Arryn, danced defiantly against the wind. A wave of relief washed over me, momentarily eclipsing my fatigue.

As I drew nearer, the distinct forms of the knights became clearer. Their stalwart presence infused me with a glimmer of hope. Their loyalty to House Arryn was a beacon of light in my storm-clouded journey.

"Lady Jeyne, are you well?" one of the knights inquired, concern etched across his face. I managed a weary nod, my energy spent and my worries etched deeply into my features. The strain of the escape was beginning to tell, each moment of respite revealing the extent of my exhaustion.

"Go, save Ulf," I uttered softly, my voice barely more than a breath. The command, though quiet, carried the weight of my desperation. I felt my grip on the reins slacken as weariness enveloped my body. The lines between consciousness and surrender blurred as my fingers released their hold, allowing the reins to slip through.

Fatigue descended like a suffocating shroud, pulling me into its embrace. The world around me faded, the clash of my racing heart a distant echo as darkness overtook my vision, and I surrendered to the overwhelming weariness that had dogged my every step.

As I slowly opened my eyes, the world around me emerged from the haze of unconsciousness. The soft, warm light of the chamber painted a gentle tableau, and there, beside my bedside, was Jessamyn, her presence a soothing balm to my weary soul. With a tenderness that spoke of her deep concern, she held my hand as if it were the most fragile thing in the world.

Our gazes met, and in her eyes, I found a mixture of relief and worry. The touch of her tears against my skin was a poignant reminder of the emotions we shared, the unspoken fears that had held us captive. And then, as if unable to contain the flood of emotions any longer, she pulled me into a tight embrace.

In that moment, our tears mingled, a testament to the trials we had faced and the overwhelming gratitude that we had both survived. The embrace was more than just a physical closeness; it was a joining of souls, a declaration that we were here, in this moment, together against all odds.

Her voice, muffled by our shared embrace, quivered with raw emotion. "I thought I lost you," she whispered, her words a fragile confession that hung in the air. The weight of her words seeped into me, a reminder of how close we had come to being separated forever.

Clutching her as tightly as I could, our hearts beating in a synchrony born of shared relief, I found myself unable to express the depth of my own feelings in words. Instead, I let my actions speak for me. Drawing back slightly, I gazed into her eyes, feeling the weight of unspoken words and unsung melodies between us.

In that charged moment, love radiated between us, an unbreakable bond forged through hardship and tested by time. And so, I leaned in, the distance between our lips closing with a tenderness that spoke of the gentlest of affections. The kiss was a culmination of emotions too profound to express otherwise, a bridge between the language of the heart and the poetry of our souls.

Her lips met mine, and the world around us seemed to blur, leaving only the two of us in a realm of emotion and connection. Her response was an echo of my own feelings, a reciprocation of the love that flowed between us. The kiss lingered, a testament to the fragile beauty of life, the resilience of hope, and the power of love to heal even the deepest wounds.

The lingering taste of our kiss still lingered on my lips, a bittersweet reminder of the emotions that had surged between us. But even in that moment of connection, a sudden realization swept over me like a tide. The weight of urgency replaced the warmth of intimacy, and I pulled back slightly, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Ulf, where is Ulf?" The words escaped my lips in a rush, my thoughts immediately shifting to the man who had been my steadfast companion through the trials we had faced. His presence had been a pillar of strength, a source of courage that had helped me overcome even the direst adversities.

Jessamyn's gaze met mine, and she must have seen the worry etched into my expression. Without hesitation, she responded, her voice a calming reassurance amidst the whirlwind of my thoughts. "He's fine, Jeyne. The maester tended to his wounds, and he's resting now." Her words were like a soothing balm to my frayed nerves, and I let out a shaky breath that I hadn't even realized I had been holding.

Relief washed over me, mingling with the residual emotions of our kiss. Knowing that Ulf was safe allowed me to exhale the tension that had taken root within me, even as the memory of our recent trials remained vivid in my mind.

Gently holding Jessamyn's hand, I welcomed the steadying presence she offered. Her touch was a lifeline, grounding me in the midst of the emotional whirlpool that had consumed me. Her question, soft and laden with genuine concern, prompted me to recount the events that had led us to this juncture.

Leaning back against the pillows, I recounted the tale of our journey, weaving together the threads of danger, camaraderie, and the unwavering bond that had formed between Ulf and me. As the words spilled forth, I found solace in the act of sharing, in the knowledge that Jessamyn was there to listen, to understand the depth of my experiences.

With every sentence, I felt the weight of the past days lift off my shoulders, as if the act of verbalizing our trials was a cathartic release. And Jessamyn listened, her eyes fixed on mine, her expression a reflection of the empathy she felt. Her fingers interlocked with mine, a gesture of support that conveyed more than words ever could.

As I finished recounting the last of our adventures, the room seemed to settle into a comforting stillness. Jessamyn's gaze held a mixture of admiration, understanding, and perhaps a touch of awe.

"What happened in the time that I was gone?" I inquired, my voice tinged with curiosity and a lingering trace of anxiety.

With a tender sweep of her hand, Jessamyn wiped away the remaining tears that clung to her cheeks. She took a steadying breath, her gaze never leaving mine as she began to recount the events that had unfolded in my absence.

"After you were abducted, I was consumed by worry," she began, her voice soft yet resolute. "Soon, Ulf's companions arrived, and they told me that he had been part of Arnold's group of mercenaries."

As the details of their efforts unfolded, I marveled at the way they had rallied in the face of adversity. Jessamyn continued, her words a testament to her unwavering determination and resourcefulness. "I sent messengers along with ravens. Ser Joffery led his men from the Bloody Gate to scour the mountains of the moon, hoping to find you. Meanwhile, Ser Corbray returned to Heartshome to gather more support, and then he too journeyed into the mountains, finally locating you."

Relief washed over me as she spoke of Ulf's safety, and my gratitude swelled for those who had worked tirelessly to ensure our rescue. But I couldn't shake off the nagging thought of the traitor from Gulltown, the betrayal that had led to our abduction.

"And the traitor from Gulltown?" I pressed, my voice firmer now, a trace of steel entering my tone.

Jessamyn's eyes flashed, a fierce glint emanating from their depths. "That coward fled with his tail between his legs," she replied, a hint of satisfaction underscoring her words. Her determination to see justice served was evident, and I felt a renewed surge of admiration for her strength.

A smile tugged at the corners of my lips as she recounted her efforts to garner aid from various quarters. "I also sent a raven to King's Landing, along with one to your cousin in Dragonstone, asking for aid," she revealed, the weight of responsibility and strategy evident in her words.

"You did exceptionally well, Jessamyn," I praised, my heart swelling with pride for the way she had handled the dire situation in my absence. Leaning in, I pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, my affection for her spilling over in that simple gesture.

"Are we at the Gates of the Moon now?" I inquired, curiosity dancing in my eyes.

"Yes, we are," she affirmed with a soft nod.

"Excellent. Call for the maester and ask him to bring parchment and ink. I have a multitude of letters to write," I declared, a glint of determination sparking within me. The events of the recent past had only served to fortify my resolve, and there were matters that demanded my attention.

My thoughts then turned to Ulf, the man who had stood by me through thick and thin. "Also, could you take me to Ulf's room? I wish to see him," I requested, my eagerness palpable.

Jessamyn's response was a nod filled with understanding and warmth. Together, we navigated the delicate path from my bedside to Ulf's room, the journey a testament to the bonds that had been forged amidst adversity. As I entered his room, my heart swelled with a mixture of gratitude and anticipation, ready to reunite with the friend who had stood as a stalwart companion in the face of danger.

A soft glow from the dimmed candles illuminated the figure that lay within. Ulf, my steadfast companion, was sleeping soundly, his presence a comforting anchor in the midst of the tumultuous events that had unfolded. A bandage adorned his shoulder, a visual reminder of the peril he had faced on my behalf. Despite the ordeal he had endured, his features were serene in repose, his breathing steady, a testament to his resiliency.

Moving with a quiet grace, I approached his bedside, my heart a mixture of relief and gratitude. The sight of him here, safe and peaceful, brought a wave of emotions that threatened to overwhelm me. My fingers brushed against his unruly hair, a touch as tender as a whisper, gently sweeping aside a stray strand that had fallen across his handsome face.

Leaning in, I found myself drawn to the contours of his features—the curve of his jaw, the slight furrow of his brow, and the pale lilac hue of his eyes that had always held a mysterious allure. There was a vulnerability in his slumber, a contrast to the strength and determination he had exhibited in the face of danger.

"Thank you for saving me, Ulf," I murmured, my voice soft, the words laden with a depth of gratitude that transcended simple expression. My fingers lingered on his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw with a touch that conveyed more than words ever could.

The weight of the debt I owed him was immeasurable. He had risked his own safety to ensure mine, facing arrows and adversities without hesitation. He had been the unwavering shield that had stood between me and harm, a steadfast presence that had guided me through the storm.

With a tenderness born of a profound connection, I pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, a gesture of affection that carried the weight of unspoken emotions. My lips lingered there for a moment, my heart speaking through that touch—a heart that overflowed with appreciation, respect, and a bond that had only grown stronger through our shared trials.

As I pulled back, a sense of serenity settled over me. Ulf's slumber was a reflection of the respite we had found amidst the chaos, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there were moments of solace and connection. With a final glance, I turned to leave the room, the image of his tranquil form etched in my memory—a testament to the enduring strength of friendship, the resilience of the human spirit, and the power of the unspoken emotions that bound us together.

As I left Ulf's room, the echoes of shouts reached my ears, pulling my attention toward the clamor that echoed through the hall. With a sense of urgency, I followed the noise until I reached the source of the commotion. What unfolded before me was a scene of conflict—a massive man with silver hair engaged in a physical altercation with two others.

"Stop at once!" My command pierced through the turmoil, and just as swiftly, the chaos subsided. The hall fell silent, and the knights present lowered themselves in a show of deference and respect.

"What is the meaning of this?" I demanded, my tone carrying an edge of authority.

The response came from a young boy, his features strikingly reminiscent of the bloodlines of Old Valyria. He spoke of an insult thrown at Ser Ulf, branding him with the term "monster." The audacity of such words sent a surge of indignation coursing through me, my loyalty to Ulf flaring fiercely.

My gaze shifted to the perpetrators, my anger simmering beneath the surface. How dare they cast aspersions on the very man who had risked his life for mine?

Before I could voice my thoughts, the voices of Ser Corwyn Corbray and Ser Joffery Arryn filled the space, their presence a reassurance amidst the tumult. Their words were a balm to my frayed nerves, reminding me that I was not alone in this, that allies stood by my side.

"Forgive my men," Ser Joffery entreated, and his humility struck a chord within me. The realization that fear had driven their actions softened my stance, reminding me that even the bravest hearts could be tainted by anxiety.

"They are just afraid, that's all," Ser Crowyn added, his words carrying the weight of understanding.

"Afraid of what?" I inquired, my voice tinged with curiosity and concern.

Sensing the need for privacy, Jessamyn intervened. "It is better if we discuss this in private," she suggested, her wisdom evident in her gaze. I nodded in agreement, my thoughts aligning with hers.

Once within the confines of my quarters, I settled at my desk, my mind abuzz with questions and the need for resolution. With a momentary pause, I closed my eyes, seeking a semblance of clarity. As I opened them, the scene had shifted, and before me stood not only Ser Crowyn and Ser Joffery, but also the individuals who had been at the center of the conflict.

Jessamyn's voice introduced them, each name laden with significance. "Lady Jeyne, may I present to you Ser Hugh Waters, Ser Harlon Flowers, Mushroom the jester, and young Addam Waters—companions of the White Knight," she announced.

"I wish to extend my heartfelt gratitude to each of you for the courageous efforts you undertook to save me," I began, my tone filled with sincerity, as I acknowledged the assembled individuals before me. Their nods of acknowledgment echoed their understanding of the depth of my appreciation.

"Now, let us turn our attention to the matter of Ulf," I continued, the weight of concern apparent in my voice. I directed my gaze toward Ser Corwyn, seeking answers that would help piece together the events that had transpired in my absence.

"My lady, after we secured your rescue, we dispatched a group of men to search for Ser Ulf," Ser Corwyn began, his voice steady as he recounted their actions.

"Indeed, I accompanied them, my lady," Ser Joffery chimed in, his demeanor equally composed. "We found Ser Ulf without armor, his body succumbing to exhaustion."

Ser Joffery's words hinted at a deeper narrative, and I leaned in, my interest piqued. "But there's more, isn't there, Ser Joffery?" I prodded gently, my eyes fixed on him.

His gaze held a mixture of gravity and unease as he continued. "As we pressed forward, we came upon a scene of unfathomable horror, my lady—a massacre."

My breath caught, and I felt a shiver of dread race down my spine. "A massacre?" I echoed, the word heavy with foreboding.

Ser Joffery's voice took on a somber tone, his description weaving a tapestry of violence that chilled the air. "Mountain clansmen, numbering a hundred strong, lay strewn across the terrain," he began, his words painting a vivid picture of the macabre scene. "Their forms were twisted and mangled, a grotesque tableau of destruction."

My heart clenched as the description unfolded, my mind struggling to grasp the sheer brutality of the scene. "Tell me more," I urged, my voice catching slightly.

"Some were headless, their bodies bearing the marks of unimaginable violence," Ser Joffery continued, his voice a testament to the horror he had witnessed. "Guts spilled out, limbs contorted in unnatural angles—death had visited them with a merciless hand."

The room seemed to close in around me as I envisioned the carnage, my stomach turning with a mix of nausea and disbelief. The image of such violence was almost too much to bear, a testament to the brutality that could emerge even in the tranquil valleys of the Eyrie.

"The only survivor of this ordeal was the White Knight," Ser Joffery's words hung in the air, the weight of their implication settling heavily upon the room.

"Some of my men call him a monster, while the majority of them believe he is blessed by the Seven—a warrior to whom strength was granted to vanquish all his foes," Ser Joffery continued, his voice carrying the weight of uncertainty, of witnessing something that defied easy explanation.

"Very well," I said, my voice holding a quiet resolve. The weight of the revelations hung heavy in the air, and it was imperative that the details of the massacre and the enigma of the White Knight's survival remained shrouded in secrecy. The collective nods around the room affirmed the gravity of the situation and their agreement to keep these matters concealed from prying eyes.

I took a moment to gather my thoughts, my mind a swirling mix of emotions and considerations. The image of the White Knight fighting to protect me came to the forefront of my mind, his unwavering dedication and strength etched in my memory.

The room felt charged with unspoken thoughts, each person present grappling with their own reactions to the horrors and mysteries that had been revealed. But as Lady of the Eyrie, it was my responsibility to guide our next steps.

"Let it be known that the details of the massacre shall not leave this room," I declared, my voice carrying a weight of authority. "We cannot afford to sow panic or uncertainty among our people. This matter will be addressed in a manner that protects the security and stability of the Vale."

As the gravity of my words settled, a shared understanding seemed to pass through the room. It was a testament to the trust and unity that bound us together—a unity that would be crucial in the days ahead.

With a nod of dismissal, I signaled that our meeting had concluded. "Now, you all may take your leave. I have a considerable amount of correspondence to attend to," I announced.

The room began to empty, individuals leaving with a mixture of thoughts and concerns etched on their faces. As the last of them departed, I found myself alone, the quiet solitude a welcome respite from the events that had transpired.

My thoughts turned to Ulf, his unwavering loyalty and sacrifice for my sake. A mixture of gratitude and concern swelled within me as I considered his well-being and the depth of our bond. A soft smile tugged at my lips, a testament to the friendship that had blossomed amidst the trials we had faced.

As I settled at my desk, surrounded by parchment and ink, I embraced the task that lay ahead—writing letters that would forge alliances, secure support, and navigate the complex currents that had been set in motion. The ink flowed as my thoughts found voice on paper, each word a step toward shaping the future of the Vale and unraveling the mysteries that surrounded us.

In the stillness of the room, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, I immersed myself in the task at hand, determined to chart a course that would lead us through uncertainty and into a future defined by our choices, our bonds, and our unyielding resilience.

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124 AC

The Twenty- Seventh Day of the Tenth Moon

Rhaenys POV

A hushed and weighty silence enveloped the room as Rhaenyra finished reading the letter dispatched by her cousin, the Lady of the Vale, Jeyne Arryn. The words on the parchment carried a weight that transcended the ink and paper, revealing a tale of daring, danger, and unwavering loyalty.

"He never ceases to surprise me," Daemon's laughter broke through the silence, his tone a mixture of amusement and admiration.

A small, rueful smile tugged at my lips as I listened to my cousin. "He truly is quite something, Corlys," I added, my thoughts layered with a hint of exasperation. The daring feats Ulf had accomplished left me torn between wanting to reprimand him for his recklessness and being undeniably proud of his achievements.

As I processed the contents of the letter, a sense of conflicted emotions swirled within me . The audacity of Ulf's actions ignited a spark of frustration within her—an anger born of concern for his safety, an anger that he would so willingly put himself in harm's way. And yet, beneath that frustration was a begrudging respect for the depth of his loyalty and the courage that had driven him to such feats.

"I am relieved that my cousin is safe," Rhaenyra remarked, her words carrying a mixture of genuine relief and an undercurrent of something more complex. I could feel a simmering anger beneath her calm exterior, a reaction she couldn't quite quell.

The room held an air of contemplation, the weight of unspoken thoughts and emotions filling the space between them. Ulf's actions had cast a ripple through their lives, a ripple that evoked a range of reactions—admiration, concern, pride, and a touch of exasperation.

My gaze shifted to the window, my thoughts a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The sun cast long shadows, the fading light of day mirroring the uncertainty that now danced through her mind. The world was never as simple as black and white; it was a canvas of grays, each shade representing a different facet of truth, emotion, and human nature.

As the evening sun sank lower on the horizon, I couldn't shake off the turbulence that had been ignited by the contents of the letter. It was a reminder that life was a tapestry woven with threads of both triumph and sacrifice, and that the choices they made could shape their destiny in ways they could never anticipate.

Just as the unpredictability of life had showcased itself in Ulf's daring feats, another instance of that unpredictability had come in the form of Rhaena—of all people—claiming a dragon, and not just any dragon, but the fearsome Cannibal.

When Daemon's letter had arrived, bearing the astounding news that Rhaena had successfully tamed the Cannibal, my heart had felt as if it might burst with a mixture of awe, disbelief, and a touch of pride. The mere thought that Rhaena, who had always exhibited a fire and spirit unique to her, could forge a bond with such a fearsome creature was astonishing.

But the astonishment had transformed into undeniable truth when I had witnessed it with my own eyes. There, on Dragonstone, I had seen Rhaena and the Cannibal soaring through the skies in a breathtaking display of unity. It was a sight that left no room for doubt—Rhaena had indeed claimed the Cannibal as her own.

The transformation was not limited to the dragon she had tamed; it was visible in Rhaena herself. Her bearing had changed, her confidence and sense of self elevated by the newfound connection she shared with the dragon. There was an air of power around her, a subtle shift in the way she carried herself that spoke of a bond beyond comprehension.

I recalled my own experiences with dragon bonding—how taming Meleys had kindled a sense of pride in my heart, and how Daemon's bond with Caraxes had altered his temperament, making him more impulsive and prone to quick anger. But Rhaena's case was different, and as I observed her, I sensed something darker lurking beneath the surface.

Arrogance, anger, pride, and even traces of hate seemed to radiate from her, intertwining with the newfound power coursing through her veins. It was a heady concoction, one that left me apprehensive about the future that lay ahead for my granddaughter. The Cannibal was not just any dragon; it was a creature known for its aggression and its dark tendencies, and Rhaena's connection with it seemed to mirror those traits in her own demeanor.

As I gazed out of the window, watching the world beyond, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of worry. The path Rhaena was treading was not one easily navigated. The bond between a dragon and its rider was profound, capable of both elevating and consuming the individual. The darkness that seemed to shadow Rhaena now was a reminder that power, even in its most majestic form, could also be a harbinger of turmoil.

The world was filled with uncertainties, each twist of fate weaving a new thread into the intricate tapestry of life. Rhaena's connection with the Cannibal was one such thread—a thread that held the potential for greatness, yet also carried the weight of unforeseen consequences. As I contemplated the path that lay ahead for my granddaughter, I couldn't shake the feeling that the true challenge was not just taming the dragon, but taming the shadows that danced within her own soul.

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Kingslanding

Aemond POV

The twins, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, emitted delightful gurgles as I engaged in playful antics with them. The sunlit chamber echoed with their laughter, a joyful melody that filled the air. Watching them take their first steps and grow into explorers of the world around them had become one of my greatest pleasures, even if it meant dealing with the chaos they occasionally left in their wake.

With their newfound ability to walk, they had become quite the dynamic duo, a pair of small adventurers eager to navigate the vast expanse of the room. Jaehaerys, ever the energetic one, would wobble forward with a determined expression, each step a triumphant achievement. Jaehaera, on the other hand, approached her newfound freedom with a mixture of curiosity and caution, her wide eyes taking in every corner with fascination.

As I sat on the floor, they circled around me in a whirlwind of movement, their laughter and chatter creating an atmosphere of pure enchantment. I extended my hands, encouraging them to come closer, and they responded with glee, their tiny fingers reaching out to grasp mine.

"Come on, little dragons," I coaxed, my voice a warm melody as I gently guided them in a mini dance. Jaehaerys giggled, his cherubic face alight with mischief as he stumbled forward. Jaehaera, her expression a mix of concentration and determination, followed suit, her steps a bit more careful.

With every movement, every interaction, my heart swelled with an indescribable emotion. They were a reminder of the beauty of innocence, of the unbridled joy that life could offer even in the midst of royal responsibilities. The world seemed to shrink to the confines of that chamber, our shared laughter and camaraderie a bubble of serenity amidst the bustling world beyond.

As they toddled around me, I couldn't help but marvel at the way they mirrored the traits of their parents—their father's boundless energy and their mother's inquisitive nature. They were a testament to the love that had brought them into existence, a love that extended beyond the bounds of kinship and titles.

The twins' laughter pulled me from my reverie, reminding me that in this moment, all that mattered was the simple joy of playing with them. As they continued their exploration, their innocent expressions painted with wonder, I found myself caught in their infectious enthusiasm. The world was a tapestry of wonder waiting to be discovered, and with every step they took, they reminded me of the beauty that existed in the smallest of moments.

And so, in the midst of their playful antics, I marveled at the purity of their laughter, at the bond that connected us, uncle and niece, uncle and nephew. The room was filled with the sound of their joy, a reminder that even in the complexities of the realm, the simple act of playing with family could create memories that would last a lifetime.

In the warm embrace of the chamber, a scene of poignant tenderness unfolded before me. Jaehaerys, the embodiment of innocence, took his unsteady steps toward Helaena. She sat by the window, her gaze fixed on the expanse of Blackwater Bay, lost in her own thoughts.

As his tiny hand tugged at the fabric of her gown, her reverie was broken. With a gentle smile, she turned her attention to him, her expression transforming from introspection to pure adoration. In that simple gesture, the room seemed to brighten, the weight of her concerns momentarily set aside for the joy of motherhood.

She scooped him up into her arms, his laughter a melody that danced through the room. His presence was a balm to her soul, a reminder of the love and life that thrived amidst the challenges they faced.

And yet, despite the genuine happiness that sparkled in her eyes, a shadow lingered beneath the surface. A sadness, a weight that only a mother's heart could bear. Her worries for "him" were evident, a testament to the complexities of her emotions. I, too, shared those worries, for the subject of her concern was none other than Ulf—a man without the protective mantle of a dragon, facing the formidable might of the Mountain Clans all alone.

The Mountain Clans—the mere thought of not having Vhagar while fighting them sent shivers down my spine. They were a force of nature, fierce and unyielding, their loyalty to their traditions and way of life a formidable barrier to outsiders. Ulf's daring exploits had led him into the heart of their territory, a feat both commendable and concerning.

As I watched Helaena cradle Jaehaerys in her arms, my thoughts swirled with a mixture of admiration and concern. The motherly love she bestowed upon her child was undeniable, and yet, there was an undercurrent of fear that no amount of love could completely dispel. It was a fear born of the dangers that surrounded us, a fear that perhaps fate was not always kind.

As the golden hues of the day began to soften, a gentle knock resonated through the chamber. The servant's arrival heralded an invitation—a call to gather for supper. With a sense of mingled reluctance and anticipation, I handed Jaehaera to one of her attentive maids. Before she left my arms, I pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, a silent promise of my love and return.

Helaena mirrored the gesture, placing a gentle kiss on Jaehaerys's brow before relinquishing him to the care of his maid. Our gazes met, a silent understanding passing between us as we embarked on our brief separation from the twins.

Together, we made our way down the corridor, the flickering torchlight casting warm shadows upon the walls. The hall was a hub of activity, laughter and conversation dancing through the air as the extended Targaryen family prepared to dine together.

As we walked, I couldn't help but notice the tension that had crept back into Helaena's demeanor. Her worries seemed to resurface, her thoughts perhaps wandering to the very topic that weighed on my mind as well—Ulf and his precarious situation. The Mountain Clans were not to be underestimated, and the risks he had taken on were substantial.

"He will be fine, after all, he is the White Knight," I offered softly, my hand finding its way to her back in a gesture of comfort. I wanted to ease her concerns, to offer a sense of reassurance that, even in the face of danger, there was hope.

Her troubled expression softened at my words, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. It was a bittersweet smile, one that held a mix of hope and concern, a reflection of the complexities of her emotions.

"You know, Aem, you will be a good father," she said, her voice carrying a quiet sincerity that touched my heart. The unexpected compliment caught me off guard, and I laughed nervously in response.

"Do you really think so?" I asked, genuine surprise in my tone. The idea of parenthood was both exhilarating and daunting, a journey that promised profound joys and responsibilities.

Helaena's gaze held a warmth that reassured me. "Of course, you will," she affirmed, her words carrying a gentle conviction. "The way you are with the twins, I know you will do anything to protect and love them."

A mixture of emotions welled within me—pride, anticipation, and a touch of nervousness. Parenthood was uncharted territory, and the thought that Helaena believed in my ability to navigate it filled me with a renewed sense of purpose.

As we gathered around the table for supper, the air was tinged with an array of emotions. I couldn't help but notice the troubled expressions that adorned my mother's and grandfather's faces. Aegon, on the other hand, seemed to be in an entirely different state of mind, his demeanor suggesting he might have indulged in more wine than was prudent. Meanwhile, Daeron was lost in cheerful conversation with Ser Criston, seemingly oblivious to the undercurrents around him.

"Where is father?" Daeron's inquiry pierced the air, a question that seemed to hang heavy with unspoken implications. I couldn't help but scoff at his question, a mixture of bitterness and frustration welling within me.

"Probably lost in his Valyrian city," Aegon interjected, taking a hearty swig of his wine. His words were punctuated by a sense of exasperation, a reflection of the strained dynamics that often surrounded our family gatherings.

"He won't be joining us this evening, my love," my mother's voice was soft, her gaze distant. Her words held an air of resignation, a reminder of the many times my father had chosen his scholarly pursuits over the presence of his family.

As the courses were served, conversation flowed—some light and casual, others carrying a weight that lingered beneath the surface. The atmosphere was a delicate balance of familial bonds and unspoken tensions.

Then, my grandfather's voice broke through the chatter, drawing everyone's attention. His words carried a gravity that stilled the room.

"A letter arrived from the Vale this morning," he announced, and instantly, Helaena and I exchanged a glance, our curiosity piqued.

"Have they found her body?" Aegon's words were sharp, his tone tinged with a hint of drunken recklessness. My mother's disapproving look silenced him, a testament to the strains that often characterized our family interactions.

"The Lady Jeyne Arryn is safe and unharmed," my grandfather continued, and relief swept through me, though my mind immediately shifted to the next concern. What of Ulf?

"She penned the letter herself, recounting her rescue by the White Knight from her treacherous cousin and the mountain clans," he explained, and Helaena's eyes brightened at the news, while Aegon's countenance darkened.

"And Ser Ulf is fine as well, although he is injured and recovering," he announced.

At the sound of those words, Helaena's countenance transformed, her features aglow with relief and a renewed sense of hope. It was as if a weight had

been lifted from her shoulders, replaced by a warm embrace of reassurance.

Beside her, Aegon's reaction was a stark contrast, his expression contorted with a mixture of frustration and anger. His words, sharp and filled with disdain, pierced the air, a reflection of his resentment and impulsive nature.

"First, the one-eyed bitch claims the Cannibal as her dragon, and now this commoner continues to live," Aegon's tone was heated, his words laced with frustration.

"Aegon, watch your language in front of your brother," my mother reprimanded, shielding Daeron's ears from his outburst.

"He does have a point, Alicent," my grandfather interjected, his eyes darkening. The bitterness in his voice hinted at a deeper resentment, one that stemmed from the tangled web of rivalries and ambitions within our family.

"The girl will undoubtedly seek revenge; after all, she is the Rogue Prince's daughter," he continued, his gaze resting on me with a weighty intensity. "Aemond, I need you to intensify your training with Vhagar," he directed, his words carrying a sense of urgency.

After the supper had concluded, Helaena and I strolled back together. As we walked side by side, the moonlight filtering through the windows cast gentle shadows upon the walls, a fitting backdrop to the serious conversation that was about to unfold.

"Aem, there's something I wish to do," Helaena began, her tone carrying a determined edge that caught my attention.

Curious, I turned to her. "What is it that you wish to do?" I inquired, my interest piqued.

"I want to write to him," she replied, her eyes steadfast as she met my gaze. Her resolve was palpable, and I could sense that this was a matter of utmost importance to her.

I arched an eyebrow, intrigued yet uncertain. "And what do you intend to write in this letter?" I questioned, my curiosity growing.

Her lips curved into a secretive smile. "I'm sorry, Aem, but I won't tell you," she responded resolutely, her tone playful.

Her serious expression clashed with the mischievous glint in her eyes, and I couldn't help but burst into laughter. "Well, of course, it's fine if you don't want to share it with me, sister," I said, chuckling.

She let out a soft laugh herself, her demeanor lightening. "I need your help, Aem," she continued, her expression growing more earnest.

"With what?" I asked, intrigued by the air of secrecy that surrounded her intentions.

"Grandmaester Mellos will likely inform grandfather of any raven I send, so I need you to ensure that he doesn't relay it to him," she explained, her voice tinged with urgency.

I arched an eyebrow, a mixture of curiosity and doubt. "And why do you believe he would heed my request?" I questioned, genuinely curious.

"Because, Aem, most people in the keep and the city are afraid of you," she stated matter-of-factly.

I blinked in surprise. "Afraid of me?" I echoed, my tone reflecting my disbelief.

Helaena laughed at my incredulous expression. "Of course, Aem. After the Melee, everyone started referring to you as the Green Terror—the rider of the largest living dragon and a dual-wielder," she explained.

I couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. "People think I'm terrifying?" I mused, shaking my head in disbelief.

Helaena grinned. "Yes, they do. And because of that, they'll be more inclined to follow your directives," she reasoned, as if it was the most natural conclusion.

I couldn't suppress a laugh at the thought. "Well, I suppose being feared has its advantages," I quipped.

Helaena's expression turned earnest once again. "So, will you do it for me? Keep my secret and ensure that grandfather remains unaware?" she asked, her eyes searching mine.

Her earnest plea softened my heart. "Of course, sister. After all, what kind of brother would I be if I didn't help my sister?" I responded with a cheeky grin.

Her eyes lit up, and without a word, she enveloped me in a tight hug. I reciprocated, holding her close, and in that moment, I realized the depth of the bond that existed between us—a bond that extended beyond duty and titles, a bond forged by love, shared experiences, and the unspoken understanding that only siblings could comprehend.