Aenar Targaryen (296 A.C. Third moon)
After Meera's meeting.
Aenar groaned and gave another thrust. "Fuck I loved that cunt of yours." He exclaimed with a happy moan. "I know, you said that before," Alysanne replied.
"I, you know, wish Meera was older. So we could do this together." He added, as his cock throbbed inside Alysanne's heat. "A plan for the future. But hurry, were we supposed to join them touring the grounds of Moat Cailin." Alysanne added.
"As command, my star," Aenar replied as he kissed Alysanne's Neck as he thrust his cock in and out of her cunt. As he claimed her against the wall of his chambers.
Aenar's strong hands gripped Alysanne's hips tightly as he slammed into her, the sound of their bodies colliding echoing through the chambers. "Aenar... We have to be quieter." she gasped, her nails digging into the wall. He chuckled huskily. "Hmm, I don't think that isn't a problem anymore. You were quite loud last night."
His thrusts became more urgent, more desperate as he was reaching his climax. He reached down, his fingers finding her clit and rubbing it. "I'm going to fill you with my seed, Alysanne." Alysanne cried out, her body convulsing as an orgasm washed over her. "Yes, just like last night." She moaned. Aenar followed soon after, his hot seed flooding her womb. "Fuck, yes!" he groaned, his hips jerking upward as he emptied himself inside her.
Aenar remained buried inside Alysanne, his softening cock still twitching occasionally. Then he leaned her neck, kissing it softly, as their breaths mingled. "Damn, I love you," he murmured. "I love you too," Alysanne added, smiling weakly, her legs trembling. "Hmm, I know." He whispered back with a grin. "But we really should get dressed. They will be wondering where we are." Alysanne said with a smile. Aenar sighed, reluctantly pulling out of her.
Courtyard Moat Cailin
As Aenar and Alysanne stepped into the courtyard, Allyn followed closely behind. Waiting for them were his castellan, Arne, along with Howland, Meera, Jojen, and Ashara.
"Good morning, my lord," Arne greeted, offering a slight bow.
"Morning to you as well, Arne. I apologize for the delay. I had to check on something in my room," Aenar replied.
"Of course, my lord," Arne acknowledged.
Howland and Ashara exchanged a glance, the latter's gaze shifting toward her daughter and him. Aenar swallowed before speaking again. Well, Alysanne gave her mother a small smile.
"Let's get started, Arne. How is the reconstruction progressing?" He began.
"It will take several years to complete, of course," Arne began. "Our primary focus right now is making the castle truly livable, not just a stronghold to garrisoned men. Lord Stark, the Tyrells, and House Manderly have all sent aid, and the people from King's Landing have been eager to contribute."
"A small settlement is forming outside Moat Cailin, about a mile away, near a tributary of the Fever River. There are two main workforces. One focused on restoring the castle, and the other on developing the town. The first phase involved clearing out the old fort and preparing the ground for construction. The town is planned to sit beside the castle, and work has begun on digging a harbor and canal. The fertile topsoil is being spread over future farmland, while the denser earth beneath is being used to reinforce the town's foundation and create ramparts on the southern side to prevent sinking.
"We've also been salvaging usable granite to do this too. It's from the old parts of the fort. As for still usable pieces, they will be repurposed for future construction." Arne paused, then added, "Speaking of old remnants, we've unearthed some interesting artifacts during the excavation. Would you like to see them now, or would you prefer to inspect the town's progress first?"
'Artifacts? That's sounds interesting.' He mused to himself. "Show me the artifacts," he decided.
"As you wish, my lord. Please follow me. They're stored along with the coins in the new keep. It is the first structure we built, per your instructions." Arne gestured toward a wooden keep standing on the northeastern side of Moat Cailin.
Aenar studied it with approval. "From here, I can already tell it's excellent work. It reminds me of Deepwood Motte's inner keep."
Arne's face lit up with pride. "Indeed, my lord. I modeled it after Deepwood Motte inner keep, though on a smaller scale."
As they prepared to move, Arne hesitated before speaking again. "My lord, may I have a moment before we proceed?"
"Of course," Aenar replied. "I know the plans well, as do you, as you designed them yourself. But should I explain them to your companions as well?" Arne questioned.
Aenar glanced at his company before grinning. "Only Alysanne knows all the details. Go ahead and explain them. You have my blessing." He clapped Arne on the back, signaling his approval.
"This keep is the first of three and will be the only one that will be built of wood. Two more keeps, will one on the southern side and one more on the northwestern side." Arne explained with enthusiasm. 'The man had been rejuvenated, it seemed. This wasn't the polit yet glumy man he met when he first arrived at the Moat Cailin.' He mused with a smile.
As they approached the new keep, Aenar spoke thoughtfully. "Have you considered names for it? The New Keep could work, but it reminds me too much of the Manderlys' New Castle."
"Indeed, my lord," Arne replied. "Some of the men have taken to calling it Wolfkeep, after your father's sigil."
Aenar considered the suggestion. "Hmm… Wolfkeep has a nice ring to it, but I was thinking of something different—perhaps Fanghall or something along those lines."
They soon stepped inside, greeted by the scent of fresh pine. The keep was unmistakably new, and Aenar had to admit completing such a structure in less than a year was an impressive feat.
"Well done," he said, nodding in approval. Then, curiosity struck him. "Arne, why weren't we allowed to stay here?"
"I was wondering the same thing," Howland added, glancing around. "The keep looks finished."
"It is, mostly," Arne admitted. "The second floor, where guest chambers will be, is nearly complete, but the roof still needs proper insulation. When it rains, much of the second floor gets soaked. We're about to apply resin to improve water resistance and prevent leaks. At the same time, we're finishing the third floor and the upper tower. We had hoped to complete it before your return, but unfortunately, it wasn't possible in the timeframe. The rain also caused the chambers to remain unfurnished."
"No need to worry," Aenar assured him. "I'm already impressed by how much progress has been made. You and the workers have done well. Pass along my thanks when you can." Though only three and ten, he had learned much over the past year, both from experience and the education his father had provided before that. He knew how a lord should speak to those who served him, and Arne had done a fine job.
Arne inclined his head, then gestured forward. "Very well, my lord. Allow me to show you the treasury."
He led them down a dimly lit hallway, where two guards stood at attention.
"Castellan Arne," one of them greeted. "Good day to you."
Arne nodded in acknowledgment. "Fallick, Borim, allow me to introduce his lordship, Jon Snow, Lord of Moat Cailin."
Both men gasped slightly before offering swift, respectful nods.
"My lord, welcome. Guard Fallick, at your service," said the shorter of the two, bowing his head.
"My lord, Guard Borim, at your service," said the taller man, his thick beard giving him a rugged appearance. Despite his imposing size, his tone was warm and respectful.
Aenar grinned. "At ease. I look forward to getting to know you both in the future."
With that, the guards stepped aside, and Arne retrieved a key, unlocking the door to the treasury.
Inside the treasury, Aenar nearly gasped at the sight before him, chests upon chests filled with gold.
"How much is there?" he asked, his eyes sweeping over the wealth.
"Almost 25,000 gold dragons," Arne replied. "We've already used 5,000, and the rest is stored in Winterfell. Lord Stark thought it best to split the funds, given that Moat Cailin is still unfinished. The gold arrived about three moons ago, as I mentioned in my letter."
"Indeed, you did," Aenar acknowledged.
Arne walked toward a covered object in the corner and pulled away the blanket. Aenar's mouth fell open.
Before him stood a beautifully carved dragonglass cluster in the shape of a direwolf. Beside it sat a chest filled with golden coins, each stamped with the image of a direwolf and the same inscription he had seen on the helmet he found in the Neck.
"I haven't told anyone else, my lord. Only you and your companions, as well as the diggers, who uncovered it," Arne explained. "It was found in a sunken chamber near one of the still-standing towers. The chamber itself remains intact, though most of its contents had long since decayed. This was all that was still valuable. We also found old, rusted swords and other armaments but little else of note."
Aenar ran his fingers over the dragonglass direwolf, admiring the craftsmanship. "Exquisite work," he murmured. Then, he picked up one of the coins, testing its weight. "And these coins—are they real or forgeries?"
"Real, my lord. Pure gold. Each one is nearly twice as heavy as a standard gold dragon," Arne confirmed.
Aenar's mind raced with possibilities. "Interesting… These markings match those on the helmet I found in the Neck. I'll show it to you later during supper, so we know what to look for in the future." He turned back to Arne with a grin. "Now, show me the chamber where this was found. After that, I want to see the city and the town. I wish to see my lands."
Arthur Dayne (296 A.C. Third moon)
The Crossroad Inn
The Crossroads Inn loomed ahead, its windows glowing with firelight against the encroaching dusk. Arthur adjusted the hood of his cloak, ensuring it still concealed most of his face until he was inside. The road had been long, and though he was no stranger to hardship, the weariness of travel clung to him like the dust on his boots. Yet being outside of the Neck was a welcome respite.
He stepped inside, pausing just beyond the threshold. The scent of roasting meat and stale ale filled his nostrils, mingling with the musk of unwashed bodies. A dozen conversations overlapped—merchants haggling, men laughing too loudly, the occasional curse thrown across a dice game. No one paid him any mind. 'Good.' He mused.
He walked in and went to sit down at empty tables. Removing his hood. His hair was dyed black, one thing he hated, a necessary concession to do his duty. Resting his gloved hands against the worn wood. The innkeeper, a stout woman with an apron dusted in flour, barely glanced at him as she poured a foaming mug of ale.
"Room for the night? Have my horse cromed and stabled. It's a grey one with a black cloak." he asked, his voice deliberately neutral, his Dornish lilt buried beneath practiced restraint.
She glanced at his sword, sheath plain, hilt unremarkable. 'He missed Dawn but left it in Grey Water Watch. The weapon was far too recognizable.' He mused.
"five silver stags for a room and a stable for your horse. One extra, and you get a meal and no troubles here," she said.
Arthur slipped the coins from his belt and set them on the table counter. She scooped them up and replied with a kindly smile, "The food will be there soon."
Arthur had barely taken another bite when a heavy presence settled across from him. He looked up to see a big, broad-shouldered man dropping into the seat opposite him without invitation. His yellow, hooded cloak, patched with deerskin, stood out in the dim light of the inn. A bushy brown beard framed his face, barely hiding his bad teeth as he gave Arthur a hard, assessing look. There was something familiar about him, but Arthur couldn't quite place it.
The man spoke in a harsh, deep voice, rough as a hound's growl. "Ain't often we see a man like you traveling alone."
Arthur met his gaze evenly. "What do you mean, stranger?"
The man hummed, studying him. "Don't remember me, do you? But I remember you. Those eyes. I've seen them before. The last time was in King's Landing… before you left with a certain prince. Though that can't be, can it? That man died at the Tower of Joy." The stranger's voice dropped to a low murmur.
Arthur's jaw tightened. His right hand curled around his spoon, more out of restraint than anything else. As he left, he went to his dagger. "Damn it. Keep your voice down," he hissed. Then his eyes sharpened as realization struck. "Richard… I thought you died on the Trident with Rhaegar."
"As you should have," Richard said darkly. "Or at least, you should have protected him." He exhaled, his expression grim. "It was me who found his body after the river carried him away. I buried him near those banks. I go visit every year."
A silence stretched between them, thick with old ghosts and unspoken regrets. 'Rhaegar,' He thought mournfully.
Richard glanced around the inn before leaning in slightly. "We should talk somewhere more private."
Arthur exhaled sharply. "Fine," he muttered. "But let me finish my meal first. I haven't eaten since this morning."
"Of crouse ser," Richard added with a dark grin. "Ah, Ser Lemoncloak, will you need supper?" The innkeeper asked as he noticed Richard sitting. "No, I already ate, but I would have ale. Give my compliments to your daughter. She makes a wonderful stew." Richard replied and placed three copper stars.
"Thank you, Ser." The innkeeper replied with a smile.
"Ser Lemoncloak?" Arthur asked with a frown. "Indeed, I needed a new one. My full one is Ser Lem Lemoncloak." Richard replied with a grin.
Soon, the food was done, and Arthur and Richard retreated to his chamber. As soon as Arthur had closed the door, Richard punched him against his jaw. "What the hell!" He grumbled as he spit blood out. "That's for letting him die and not being there," Richard growled.
"Well, for your information, I followed Rhaegar's orders. As did the Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell. " He retorted. Richard looked at with surprise, his angry growl showing his ugly teeth. "What?" Richard replied.
"Ser Gerold, Ser Oswell, and I were ordered to guard Lyanna, and her babe. As you know, he planned to find her before his father's men did." He confessed.
"Babe?" Richard gaped at him. "Yes, after we recused Lyanna, Rhaegar and Lyanna married. Soon after, she felt pregnant. As you know, Elia had given her consent."
"Why all three of you? Oswell and Gerold would have been enough." Richard sighed.
"Not for Rhaegar," Arthur admitted. "He believed the child to be special. You know how he was with dreams, visions, and prophecies. He ordered all of us to stay. Believe me, I wanted to come." His voice was heavy with regret.
Richard studied him, eyes narrowing. "Why are you here? What happened to the babe? How are you even alive? Eddard Stark told everyone he killed you."
Arthur exhaled sharply. They had spoken quietly in the room, but Lem or Richard, as he now knew. He was a familiar face in these parts. Killing wasn't an option. If Arthur had to take a chance on someone, it might as well be a man who still burned with anger over Rhaegar's death. When he spoke of burying the prince, he heard the truth in his words. Arthur could not silence him. He would have to trust him.
"Sit down," Arthur said. "I will tell you everything, but you must swear, on Rhaegar's memory, that what I reveal stays between us unless given strict permission to speak of it."
Richard didn't hesitate. "I swear it. In the name of Prince Rhaegar, the man who should have been king instead of that fat pig. Now, tell me what is going on."
Arthur nodded and began. For an hour, he spoke in hushed tones, recounting the truth of the Tower of Joy and all that had come after. When he finally finished, Richard sat in stunned silence before his face lit up with hope.
"So… the true king is alive? A son of Rhaegar lives?"
Arthur inclined his head. "Indeed. Right now, he should be traveling toward Winterfell for his cousin's nameday."
Richard let out a breath, his shoulders straightening. "Thank the gods… there is still hope for redemption. I wish to serve him, Arthur. I want to believe in something again." His eyes burned with conviction. "But what are you doing here?"
"I'm traveling to Driftmark to speak with the Velaryons, to inform them of their king if they prove trustworthy, ask for their support, and begin planning his return. After that, I go to Braavos to gain access to the account Aenar's father left behind, along with the Targaryen vaults. Then, I will travel to Eastwatch, where Aenar is headed."
Richard raised a brow. "Truly? I thought that account would belong to the holder of the Iron Throne."
Arthur shook his head. "No. Aenar is the rightful heir, and the Iron Bank honors a blood link, some old Valyrian blood lock. As long as Aenar lives, the vault won't open for anyone else. After him, it would fall to Viserys, but Aenar believes Viserys has become like his father."
Richard frowned. "What do you mean?"
Arthur hesitated, then spoke carefully. "Aenar has strange dreams. He hears a voice from somewhere… and it led him to discover his identity. But he also has visions, when he sleeps, he finds himself on Dragonstone. For him, it sometimes feels like hours. And he is not alone there."
Richard leaned forward. "Who else is there?"
Arthur's expression darkened. "Daenerys Targaryen."
Richard stilled.
"They have taken a liking to each other," Arthur continued. "If you hear Aenar tell it, they talk as though they've known each other forever. She told him about her brother… about how he abuses her. Thankfully, he has not raped her, but that does not mean she hasn't suffered. Her maidenhood is intact, but only because Viserys considers it too valuable. When Aenar learned the truth, he was furious."
Richard's jaw tightened. "Then Aenar he is like his father… in more ways than one. As is Viserys, sadly." Richard took a deep breath, steadying himself. "Arthur, take me with you. I shall serve my king loyally, as I would have served his father had he lived."
He studied Richard for a long moment before nodding. "Very well. I could use a companion. The road has been lonely. But make no mistake, Richard. If I even suspect treason, I will kill you without a second thought."
Richard smirked. "I expect nothing less from a Kingsguard."
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