The next morning.
Above Runestone.
A massive bronze dragon circled slowly, descending to the open field outside the castle walls.
"Thanks for the ride, big guy."
Aemon dismounted carefully, a wide grin on his face.
"Roar!"
Vermithor growled low, his sharp gaze lingering on his rider before curling up to rest.
After yesterday's feast, the dragon was already demanding another debt be paid.
Feeling the tug of their shared bond, Aemon's smile faded.
"Stubborn as a boulder in a latrine," he muttered. "How did my great-grandfather ever deal with you?"
"Roar!"
Vermithor narrowed his molten bronze eyes, nudging Aemon hard enough to nearly knock him over.
"Alright, alright. I won't argue with you."
Staggering back a step, Aemon rubbed his temple. "Maybe I should wake your mate from Dragonstone. She'd sort you out in no time."
The thought of reuniting the two bonded dragons crossed his mind again. After all, perhaps Vermithor's foul temper stemmed from lingering grief.
Inside the great hall, Aemon sat comfortably in a chair, sipping a warm cup of milk.
His mother, Lady Rhea Royce, was still out hunting and had just been sent word of his return.
"Prince, we've received a shipment of Goldenwine from the Arbor," said Johanna, one of the household staff. She carried a silver tray bearing a fine crystal decanter.
"Goldenwine?" Aemon's curiosity piqued.
Johanna smiled as she poured the amber liquid. "It's a rare vintage, a gift from the king himself."
The golden wine shimmered as it filled the goblet, releasing a rich aroma.
Aemon sniffed it thoughtfully. "Hmm. Smells excellent."
Johanna offered the goblet. "Would you care to try it?"
Aemon shook his head with a grin. "No, thank you. I'm not of age to drink."
"…Huh?"
Johanna blinked in stunned confusion.
Aemon, thoroughly pleased with her reaction, went back to enjoying his sweetened milk.
He wasn't much of a wine connoisseur anyway. Most in Westeros drank wine because it was safer than water from a well.
But Aemon preferred something more wholesome and nourishing.
And his milk had honey in it!
Johanna, regaining her composure, lowered her head to hide a giggle.
The young prince truly was a peculiar one.
Finishing his milk in one hearty gulp, Aemon placed the ceramic cup down with a satisfied sigh.
"Johanna, I'm planning to establish a new domain. Would you be interested in serving as my steward?"
"Me?"
Johanna pointed at herself, bewildered.
"Yes, you."
"But… I'm just a maid, my prince. I only know how to make beds and keep accounts for Lady Rhea."
She seemed flustered, but Aemon noticed the steadiness of her breathing and the calmness in her gaze.
Even more telling, her dark eyes—partially obscured by long black curls—darted toward him, quietly observing his reaction.
"Clever woman," Aemon thought.
Aloud, he said with a smile, "You're more than capable. Surely you don't want to remain a simple maid forever?"
After all, he knew what Johanna was capable of in another world.
The infamous "Black Swan" of Lys—once sold into a brothel—had risen from nothing to control the city's entire underworld.
Compared to his father Daemon's favorite mistress, Mysaria, Johanna was leagues more competent.
And she had potential.
"I…"
Johanna hesitated, seemingly lost in thought.
At that moment, hurried footsteps echoed through the hall.
"Aemon, I heard you encountered the mountain clans?"
Lady Rhea Royce strode in, dressed in a hunter's leather armor. Her every step exuded confidence and strength.
The moment she reached her son, her keen eyes scanned him from head to toe.
"I'm fine, Mother. Vermithor isn't one to take things lightly."
Aemon rose to greet her and offered her his seat.
Lady Rhea frowned slightly but visibly relaxed upon confirming her son was unharmed.
No one knew her son better than she did, but the news of him confronting the clans had made her ride back at full speed.
Johanna, quietly slipping into the background, placed the wine goblet before Lady Rhea.
Aemon caught her subtle retreat and smirked to himself.
Johanna, clearly aware of his gaze, adjusted her neckline slightly higher.
"Now, what is it you need from me?" Lady Rhea asked, taking a sip of the wine.
Her tone was practical, direct.
After all, she suspected her son had returned to Runestone to ask for something.
And she was right.
Aemon grinned. "I found a fertile valley in the mountains—a perfect spot for a settlement. But I'll need craftsmen and supplies to make it happen."
He had already mapped out the ideal location at the base of the mountain near the large lake.
Though his magic cards would speed construction, human labor was still essential.
Lady Rhea sighed deeply. "How many people are you asking for?"
"Three thousand."
"…Three thousand?"
Aemon, ever the opportunist, pushed on. "Yes. With that many, I could build a proper castle as the foundation for the settlement."
Lady Rhea's sharp mind quickly calculated the impact. "Building a castle takes five to ten years. We have only twenty thousand households under our rule. And you want to take a quarter of our workforce?"
Harvest season was fast approaching. Losing so many able-bodied men would impact their crops.
"Not all at once," Aemon clarified. "You just need to provide me with half the number, along with skilled craftsmen. I'll get the rest from King's Landing."
He was thinking of the many orphans under Rhaenyra's care.
Her "Kingdom's Light" initiative had won her a reputation as a benevolent reformer across the Seven Kingdoms.
Lady Rhea's expression shifted. "Speaking of King's Landing—what do you make of the king's proposal regarding Rhaenyra's marriage?"
Aemon frowned slightly.
What did he make of it?
Sit back and watch the show, of course.
"The king wants you as her consort," Lady Rhea said bluntly. "Surely you know that."
Aemon nodded slowly.
"And what's your answer?"
Her piercing gaze fixed on him. "If you don't intend to accept, you need to make that clear now."
Caught off guard by her directness, Aemon fell silent, his thoughts racing.
Truth be told, both King Viserys and Rhaenyra had treated him well.
Especially Rhaenyra.
During his time in King's Landing, they had often been inseparable, as close as siblings.
But despite their bond, Aemon couldn't bring himself to see her as a romantic partner.
To him, she was more like a reckless companion—a partner in crime, not a lover.
Lady Rhea studied her son's expression and nodded in understanding.
"You don't have feelings for her."
It wasn't a question; it was a statement.
"Then I won't waste my breath trying to convince you."
Aemon blinked, suddenly feeling uneasy.
"…What do you mean?"
Lady Rhea sat up straighter, her tone resolute. "As your mother, I'm willing to give you everything you need: craftsmen, supplies, even the three thousand men you're asking for."
"But there's one condition."
Aemon's eyes narrowed. "What condition?"
Lady Rhea's gaze was firm, unyielding.
"You must take a bride from the Vale."