Chapter 91: The Maiden of the Vale and the Wolf of Winterfell
"Then it's settled." Aemond tapped the map. "We'll prepare to evacuate King's Landing immediately."
"I'll convince Helaena." Aegon the Elder finally found something he could do. "For the sake of the children, she will fight for us."
"And the Queen going south will also protect Prince Daeron." Ser Tyland sighed. "Prince Daeron only has a small dragon. If Prince Longze'er chooses to fight in the south, an extra dragon will give us a higher chance of winning."
"Ser Criston, Ser Tyland, you two will lead the army north, and the Queen and I will cover you by dragon. Lord Jasper, Lord Larys, Lord Orwyle—if Rhaenyra enters King's Landing, you should also evacuate as soon as possible." Aemond sighed and made the arrangements.
Silence fell over the council chamber once more.
At Maegor's Holdfast, Aegon the Elder cautiously entered his wife's chambers, which he had not visited in a long time. As he pushed open the door, he saw Helaena packing. Her three children were already dressed. Jaehaerys stood bewildered beside his twin sister, holding his younger brother Maelor, watching his father enter while his mother tied up a bundle, clearly at a loss.
"Helaena."
"I know everything." Helaena glanced at Aegon the Elder. "War between kin is most abhorrent to the gods, and so too is war between dragons. Aemond is a kinslayer, Aegon, and you are also responsible."
"This is not the time for such talk, Helaena." Aegon the Elder sat beside her. "We need you and Dreamfyre. The children need you as well. Aemond hopes you will fight for us. I want you to take the children to Oldtown—it's safer than King's Landing, and their grandfather's house will arrange for them to be sent somewhere even safer."
Helaena quietly looked into Aegon's eyes, but he did not dare meet her gaze.
"I will not let Dreamfyre burn innocent people," Helaena said softly. "I am not a warrior either. I will take the children to Oldtown."
The Queen no longer paid attention to the King and instead picked up Jaehaerys herself.
"Aegon, I hope you and Aemond will both take responsibility for your actions."
Aegon the Elder fell silent.
The Vale, the Moon Gate.
Lady Jeyne Arryn did not take Prince Longze'er and Prince Jacaerys to the Eyrie. She knew she could not stop the two dragonriders from flying there, so she chose to settle matters here instead.
"Prince, I thank you for your arrival." Lady Jeyne, accompanied by Lord Artys Royce, stepped out of the Moon Gate and stood before Vermithor. She knew the true weight in these negotiations lay with Prince Longze'er, who commanded overwhelming strength, rather than Prince Jacaerys, who spoke for his mother. "Your dragon has solved a great problem for me, Prince."
"The Gulltown Arryns?" Vermithor shifted slightly, revealing a crushed mass of blood and flesh beneath his claws. Prince Longze'er recognized the torn falcon banner. "I've heard of them—a branch of House Arryn, wealthy and skilled in trade. My family's merchant ships once dealt with them."
Prince Jacaerys dismounted Vermax and produced a letter. "Lady Jeyne, I come on behalf of my mother, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen."
"I know your purpose, Prince." Lady Jeyne accepted the letter but did not break the seal. "As you can see, my rule is not stable. My kin have challenged my rights three times. My cousin, Ser Arnold, claims women are unfit to rule. He has long coveted my seat—but now he keeps company with birds in a sky cell. I hope he governs them well."
She stepped closer to Jacaerys. Though the prince was taller, she regarded him only with mild curiosity, particularly his dark hair.
Jacaerys met her gaze calmly.
"To be honest, I do not think highly of your stepfather. He wronged his first wife, so I cannot praise your mother's taste in men. But that does not affect my oath."
Lady Jeyne then turned her gaze to Prince Longze'er atop Vermithor.
Prince Longze'er also studied the Maiden of the Vale. Still youthful and striking, she ruled without heirs, with Ser Joffrey Arryn as her preferred successor—though the Vale's succession remained uncertain.
His fingers brushed the saddle's guard absently. He had missed the Vale during his grand tour—perhaps a regret worth correcting.
Lord Artys Royce approached as well. Vermithor ignored him, but Longze'er noted the young lord with interest. Anyone who had selected Sebastian during the tourney clearly possessed some ability—though this was not his moment to speak.
"Rhaenyra is my rightful Queen," Lady Jeyne said firmly. "We are bound by blood and must aid one another—especially in a world ruled by men."
She added with a faint edge, "I envy Lady Diana. Her husband does not treat her as a disposable possession simply because he rides a dragon."
"Diana is my wife. Mind your words," Prince Longze'er replied. Vermithor snorted beneath him.
Lady Jeyne smiled slightly. "Then I judged correctly. Lady Diana is far luckier than Rhea. Prince, the Vale and its knights will support Her Majesty—but we need time."
"The Vale can provide twenty thousand men, including five thousand knights—but time is required. Lord Royce can lead fifteen hundred cavalry to the Riverlands first."
"State your terms," Longze'er said calmly.
"The Vale needs a dragonrider's protection." Lady Jeyne's voice hardened. "We do not fear armies—the Blood Gate has broken them for thousands of years. We do not fear fleets—Gulltown suffices for defense. But we do fear dragons."
She met his gaze directly.
"I will not live at the mercy of fire."
"We will assign dragonriders to protect the Vale," Jacaerys replied immediately.
Lady Jeyne knelt.
Her banners followed.
The dragons soon took to the sky once more. After meeting Lord Sunderland of the Three Sisters, they flew north to Winterfell.
A raven from Cregan Stark reached them at Sisterton, stating that Lord Cregan was already mustering his banners.
Winterfell.
Ancient, massive, and unyielding, its walls had stood for eight thousand years, sheltering godswood and hot springs alike.
"The dragons are here!"
Shouts rang out as space was cleared for landing. Vermithor descended with a thunderous roar, Vermax close behind. The people watched in awe and fear—Vermithor alone nearly too vast for the courtyard.
Lord Cregan Stark stood waiting, alongside Lord Wyman Manderly and Lord Rodrik Dustin.
"Lord Cregan," Prince Longze'er grinned, striking his arm. "You old wolf—you're stronger than I expected."
"Thanks to the Varezes trade," Cregan replied dryly. "At least our granaries are not empty this winter. Prince Longze'er—you're still too young."
"Lord, I represent my mother—"
"No need," Cregan cut him off. "The North remembers. Our oaths stand."
He gestured to Rodrik Dustin.
"The harvest must come first. Otherwise, winter will kill more than war. Even with your grain, Prince. So our march will be delayed."
He continued coldly:
"As recompense, Lord Rodrik will lead two thousand mounted veterans south. Old men—but warriors. They go to die for the Queen."
His grey eyes hardened.
"My army will follow soon. Oathbreakers will pay in blood."
"Thank you, Lord Cregan," Jacaerys said.
"Good. Now," Cregan said, stepping forward, "our turn, Prince Longze'er."
"When last we met, I wished to test your Valyrian steel. I trust you will not refuse me now."
"The honor is mine."
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