The evening air was cool as Aemon leaned against the railing of the open-air balcony, feeling the gentle breeze. Footsteps approached from behind, and a graceful figure drew near.
"Seagull Town is closed, but the Velaryon cargo ships are willing to help you," Lanael said softly.
Aemon dismissed the offer without hesitation. "The Velaryon cargo ships can traverse the Narrow Sea, but they can't reach Riverrun."
Dinner dissolved into a conversation lacking substance. Count Baqian, fearing interception by the pirates of the Three Daughters' Nation, insisted that Seagull Town remain closed. Without a port for landing, transporting building materials posed a significant challenge.
"He wants to ally with you to use your dragon to protect Seagull Town," Lanael stated plainly. Among the five major ports of Westeros, the military strength of each was weaker than the last. The Graffson family had held Seagull Town for millennia, long accustomed to securing their position through wealth and marriage alliances. Seagull Town was adjacent to Stoneheart City. By courting the dragon-bearing Targaryen prince, their family's power would surge forward.
"What can he offer me to open the port?" Aemon asked, a hint of mockery in his tone. Then, he continued, "Why not discuss the Velaryon family's plans, so I can understand what Lord Corlys has in mind?"
Lanael shrugged, making no attempt to conceal her intentions. "Father instructed me to ally the Graffson family with the Seatrackers to form a naval coalition in preparation for war."
"Yet you just tried to bring me aboard," Aemon observed keenly, pointing out the contradiction. The last time the Three Daughters' Nation suffered a severe defeat was when the Sea Serpent and Old Daemon joined forces. They had spent the recent years recovering and embroiled in internal conflicts. Old Daemon's departure from the Stepstones had provided them with an opportunity to regroup. The Velaryon family, entirely dependent on maritime trade for their wealth, would be the first to suffer. It was no surprise that Corlys Velaryon was anxious to prepare for war.
Seeing through her subtle maneuver, Lanael smiled faintly. "What do you think? The Velaryon family won't treat their allies poorly."
"Nothing special," Aemon replied flatly.
"Why?" Lanael inquired.
"Playing dumb while knowing the truth," Aemon said with a shrug. Alliance with the Velaryon family? Ignoring Old Daemon's dubious schemes, even his uncle would be furious. Before Riverrun was fully established, his role remained that of a bridge between the Crown and Old Daemon, a buffer between the two. Would they position this bridge on Dragonstone and trigger the 'Dance of the Dragons' prematurely?
We still need to hurry to build the city and the town, truly gain a seat at the table, Aemon thought. He desired to be no one's vassal, believing that serving as a third-party force outside the Black, Green, and Targaryen factions offered the best path. Flexible in both offense and defense, he would naturally be in an unassailable position.
"But you need a port; otherwise, there's no way to transport goods," Lanael said, moving closer, a delicate fragrance drifting towards him.
Aemon considered this for a moment. "Iron Oak City has a dock, and Long Lake connects to the Narrow Sea, so we can use small boats for batch transportation." The situation was dire, necessitating this temporary solution. The alliance of the Velaryon, Seatracker, and Graffson families would undoubtedly form a maritime coalition against the pirates of the Three Daughters' Nation. He couldn't rely on them, so he would find his own way.
"I heard that Count Weywood of Iron Oak City is..." Lanael hesitated, a subtle expression conveying her meaning.
"Give it a try," Aemon replied. He would seize the opportunity to gauge the sentiments of the Vale nobility. Who were enemies, and who were friends? Isolation was not an option.
Lanael nodded gently, not elaborating, and said with a smile, "I heard that Rhaenyra visited the Riverlands but was captured by the king's men?" The topic shifted smoothly, like casual gossip between neighbors.
Aemon frowned, displeased. "You have the audacity to say that? One step slow, and every step is slow." That wretched woman stood me up.
"Sorry, I was held back by family matters," Lanael's smile faded, and she suddenly appeared much lonelier. Aemon was taken aback, unable to comprehend her rapid emotional shift. Lanael's graceful neck drooped as she said mournfully, "People are not in control of themselves, are they?"
Aemon played along. "Elaborate."
"It's about marriage," Lanael said, raising her eyes slightly, revealing only part of the story, deliberately trying to entice him. Unfortunately for her, Aemon possessed ample patience and resources.
"Lord Corlys is getting a divorce to remarry?"
Lanael froze, shock evident on her beautiful face. Why wasn't he following the script?
Aemon pressed on, taking her delicate hand and feigning comfort. "It's alright; Lord Corlys is still strong. He can still marry a young wife."
Lanael grasped his hand in return, her tone serious. "Aemon, if you keep joking, I'm going to get angry." Her parents were a source of pride and deserved no slander.
"You started it by joking with me first," Aemon said, tugging gently on her hand, not releasing it. Her delicate fingers were cool and soft, gripping his large hand tightly, like a piece of smooth jade.
Lanael leaned in slightly closer, her gaze fixed on his handsome face. Speaking in High Valyrian, she said, "It's about Laenor's marriage; Father and Mother are very worried." She was quite bold, their bodies nearly touching. Due to their height difference, her forehead rested against his chin. Aemon lowered his head slightly, noticing her graceful, slightly furrowed brows and eyes filled with a mixture of emotions. That alluring yet troubled look seemed to silently plead.
That wretched woman. A slight ripple stirred in his heart, and his breath became imperceptibly heavier. She still intended to seduce him. And that minor shift shattered the subtle atmosphere between them. With each breath, a faint fragrance filled his nose. The rise and fall of his chest grew more pronounced, coming within a hair's breadth of an astonishing softness. Aemon's body stiffened, and he retreated silently.
"Where are you going?" Lanael asked, quite aggressively, pulling his hand back. Aemon did not retreat but advanced instead, stepping closer to her.
"It's just the two of us; there's no one else," Lanael said, her gaze intense as she launched a full-on assault. Born into a wealthy Valyrian family with a spirit of adventure, she never lacked the courage to take risks. The man she desired would not be let go easily. Now, the opportunity was ripe.
"Find a warm embrace." At this point, Aemon had no way to retreat, and his body was pressed against hers. It was easy to attack and defend.
Lanael's face flushed, and she subtly clenched the fabric of her skirt.
"What are you blushing for?" Aemon asked teasingly, his arm wrapping around her slender waist. The soft and delicate feel of her body in his arms, the gentle pressure against his chest, filled him with a sense of pleasure. Not satisfied, he tightened his hold. Lanael felt as if her waist would break, her entire being pressed against him, her chest tight and her breathing shallow.
Error-free version reads! 6=9 + book _ bar first novel.
"Aemon~~" she murmured, her hands supporting herself against his broad shoulders, tilting her head back in a final act of stubbornness.
Aemon's free hand moved to her smooth back beneath her long skirt, his chin resting on her snow-white and delicate neck. A tighter fit, a warmer embrace. Lanael patted him with her hand, but when she saw it was futile, she gave up. Tilting her head helplessly, she allowed him to press against her, her porcelain-white arm gently encircling his broad shoulders. Naturally, she yielded to the moment.
Unseen by her, Aemon's eyes gleamed with a newfound and exciting sensation. Lanael was undeniably a great beauty with an exotic allure. Exceptionally tall, easily over 175 centimeters, she stood taller than many men even in flat shoes. Beneath the cascade of silver and gold wavy curls that reached her waist, her full and shapely breasts were an enviable feature for many women. Rhaenyra's beauty paled in comparison, appearing almost childlike next to Lanael.
"Is it soft?" Lanael asked suddenly.
"Not really, but I love it," Aemon replied, turning his head towards her smooth, pale neck.
Lanael frowned. "Whose soft?"
Aemon felt a pang of embarrassment, silently acknowledging her boldness. Seeing his hesitation, Lanael leaned closer to his ear, her breath like a fragrant whisper. "If you don't say it, I know. It's Rhaenyra, right?" As she spoke, her lips exhaled a warm, seductive breath.
Aemon's ear tingled. "That's right," he admitted bluntly. One dared to ask, and the other dared to answer.
"Huh?" Lanael's eyes widened in surprise, and she scoffed, "Rhaenyra is stupid, and she didn't succeed with this?" In this relatively open era, romantic encounters were common. Her brother Laenor had unconventional preferences. Rhaenyra had lived in Riverrun for three months and gained no one's favor.
Aemon pushed her away, asking, "How do you know everything?" The movement was swift and without lingering affection.
Lanael straightened the hem of her skirt, saying cryptically, "I just know." Her body was more flexible, unable to bear rough embraces. Rhaenyra's childish figure was no match. It was clear she lacked experience.
Aemon furrowed his brows, feeling a sense of being exposed. He disliked that about Lanael – the way she seemed to see through everything, as if he were naked before her.
"I apologize to you, Aemon," Lanael said, regaining her composure and taking his hands.
"I accept, but I don't forgive," Aemon replied, unsure of what she was truly apologizing for, but seizing the moral high ground nonetheless. He had indulged in the moment and played along. The scoundrel in him, a trait passed down through generations, was fully awakened. Tonight was a night of pleasure.
Lanael hesitated for a moment, unable to follow Aemon's train of thought, and parted her lips slightly.
"Say less, do more," Aemon murmured, lowering his head and kissing her deeply.
"Woo~~" Lanael's eyes widened, her exclamation muffled. Soon, silence returned. Aemon clasped his hands behind her back, gazing intently at her. Lanael's eyes were moist, revealing surprise and a hint of helplessness. Gradually, her eyes closed involuntarily, and she relaxed her lips, ceasing her resistance. She was growing accustomed to this feeling.
Downstairs, the blonde girl remained in the bathroom, testing the water in the tub. Too hot, she added cold. Too cold, she added hot. The cycle continued, the water level nearing the brim.
Fifteen minutes later, Aemon lay on the edge of the bed in the bedroom, the back of his head resting on the white thighs visible beneath her skirt.
"Aemon, are you truly not considering making a move against the pirates of the Three Daughters' Nation?" Lanael's eyes were gentle as she softly caressed his face. For the first time in her life, she had been this close to a man, experiencing the thrill of the forbidden. Although she had held back at the crucial moment, a sense of possessiveness had taken root. She desired to deepen their connection by spending more time together.
Aemon decisively refused. "No, I can't get along with your father."
"You have very few allies in the Vale," Lanael pointed out, her mind sharp. She was an intelligent woman who understood the importance of weighing advantages and disadvantages.
Aemon opened his eyes, briefly seeing the large breasts hovering above him, and then closed them again. Lanael was not as innocent as Rhaenyra. He would adhere to his boundaries, looking but not touching... beyond a certain point.
"I think you can go back to sleep," Aemon said, feeling a surge of irritation and wanting to end the conversation.
Lanael pursed her lips, gathered the strands of hair that had fallen across her chest, and whispered a few words in his ear. Then, she slowly extended a small, white hand. Rhaenyra might be a fool, but she was not.