Game of Thrones: The King of Bronze and Fire

Sometimes, surprises arrive before tomorrow does.

Aemon had been preparing for two days to lead his forces on a campaign into the Mountains of the Moon.

But before he could depart, new guests arrived in the Riverlands.

By Long Lake

Aemon, mounted on his white stag, led a small escort to welcome the visitors.

From half a mile away, a red banner came into view—a red fortress on a red field bordered by white.

"The sigil of House Redfort," Rhaenyra noted, gazing at the approaching convoy with a faint smile. "Lady Rhea truly knows how to pick them. The Redforts, descended from the First Men, hold significant influence in the Vale."

She shot a playful glance at Aemon.

Aemon, unimpressed, flicked his whip at the white mare beneath Rhaenyra.

"Neighhh!"

The mare neighed in protest, kicking her hind legs in irritation.

Startled, Rhaenyra struggled to calm the animal, gripping the reins tightly.

Before long, the convoy reached the shores of Long Lake. Two rows of Vale knights pulled their horses to a halt.

To their credit, the Redforts' display was quite impressive.

Fifty knights in full armor bore several red banners, their iron helmets gleaming in the sunlight.

At the front, two knights stood out, their armor adorned with finer detailing and the Redfort crest prominently displayed on their chests.

One of them removed his helmet, revealing reddish curls and a plain but composed face.

"Your Highness, my prince and princess."

The knight dismounted and bowed deeply, a hand over his chest. "Horton Redfort greets you, and may the Seven bless you both."

"Thank you, Ser Horton," Aemon replied with a polite nod.

Rhaenyra tilted her head curiously. "Are you Lord Redfort's eldest son?"

"Yes, Your Grace," Horton answered, lowering his gaze respectfully.

He was a traditional man, bound by courtesy and the rigid customs of the Vale. It was clear he would make an excellent heir to his house.

Aemon gestured for them to proceed. "You've come a long way. Riverhall has prepared a feast in your honor."

Horton declined politely, shaking his head. "Thank you, my prince, but I am here only to escort my sister. I must return to Redfort soon."

He stepped aside, signaling for the others to present themselves.

Another knight removed his helmet, revealing black hair and a handsome yet youthful face.

"This is my younger brother, Adrian Redfort," Horton introduced.

"Your Highnesses."

Adrian, no older than nineteen, dismounted and bowed.

Aemon took note of their features. Judging by their black hair and sharp looks, their mother must have been a beauty with the blood of the First Men.

Typically, Redforts bore red hair.

After the brothers made their introductions, all eyes turned toward the gilded carriage.

The curtain was drawn aside, and a hush fell over the crowd.

Aemon and Rhaenyra's gazes shifted expectantly toward the carriage, knowing full well that its occupant was likely Lady Rhea's chosen candidate for Aemon's bride.

First, a delicately clad foot in a fine deerskin boot emerged.

Then, the hem of a pale green silk dress, revealing a slender white calf.

Finally, a figure stepped gracefully out of the carriage—her flame-red hair shimmering like fire in the sunlight.

Aemon tilted his head, careful not to linger offensively as he observed her.

She was undeniably beautiful. Her fiery red hair exuded warmth and passion, her skin was fair yet healthy, and her tall, elegant frame moved with a refined poise.

Though her face was lowered modestly, her soft brown eyes glimmered with intelligence, and her high nose gave her an air of nobility.

She was, in every way, a classical beauty—her style reminiscent of Lady Rhea herself.

"Honorable prince, I am Jessamyn Redfort of the Redfort family. I greet you with the utmost respect," she said, curtsying gracefully.

Her voice was firm but pleasant, her demeanor impeccable.

Jessamyn repeated her greeting to Rhaenyra, following protocol flawlessly.

The customs of House Redfort were strict, and her every movement reflected their disciplined upbringing.

"Welcome to Riverhall," Aemon said with a faint smile, his expression unreadable.

Internally, however, he was screaming.

Jessamyn Redfort.

In the "Dance of the Dragons," Jessamyn had served as a close companion to Jeyne Arryn, the Lady of the Eyrie.

Rumors swirled about the nature of their relationship, with some suggesting it had been more than platonic. When Jeyne succumbed to a fever, she had passed away in Jessamyn's arms.

"Damn it, Mother. I knew you'd make questionable choices, but this is absurd!"

Aemon sighed internally.

"Thank you, Your Highness," Jessamyn replied with a graceful smile.

Horton announced his departure, taking ten knights with him while leaving the rest behind to guard his siblings.

Before leaving, he took Aemon aside for a private word.

"Lady Rhea has entrusted my sister to your care, Your Highness. Please treat her kindly."

"Of course," Aemon replied nonchalantly.

Horton hesitated briefly, then added, "Regardless of the outcome, House Redfort will remain a steadfast ally to Riverhall."

"Rest assured, she is simply a guest here," Aemon said, his tone steady.

Horton's face fell slightly, but he nodded in understanding before donning his helmet and mounting his horse.

Evening

That night, Aemon dined with Jessamyn and Adrian.

At the table, Jessamyn spoke openly about her home, her family, and her personal experiences.

Aemon learned that she was only fifteen—one year younger than Rhaenyra.

"I'm finished," Rhaenyra declared abruptly, setting down her utensils before excusing herself from the table.

Aemon shot her a glance but didn't stop her. He knew her well enough to see that Jessamyn's presence didn't bother her in the slightest.

If anything, she seemed entertained by the situation.

Rhaenyra had even gone out of her way to be kind to Jessamyn, likely because the girl was younger and no real threat in her eyes.

Perhaps she even hoped to watch the drama unfold.

"You live up to your title as the 'Realm's Delight,'" Jessamyn complimented as Rhaenyra left.

"She's learning to embrace the responsibilities of being heir to the Iron Throne," Aemon replied dryly.

Jessamyn smiled softly. "I mean it sincerely. Vale women rarely travel far from home. Meeting a royal like her is a privilege."

Aemon sensed her earnestness and decided to keep the conversation light.

Adrian eventually excused himself to tend to his horse, leaving Aemon and Jessamyn alone.

"Your mother is a brilliant woman, Your Highness," Jessamyn said, folding her hands demurely. "She sees the potential of Riverhall, and so does my family."

Her tone was measured and calm—she wasn't here to play games.

"I'm glad to have a neighbor like Redfort," Aemon replied with a faint smile.

"Perhaps we could be more than neighbors," Jessamyn suggested cryptically, though she quickly shifted the topic. "I hear Riverhall produces high-quality coal bricks. Is that true?"

"It is," Aemon confirmed.

"Redfort lacks arable land but produces plenty of grain. We would like to trade food for coal bricks, to help our people endure the winter's chill."

"That can be arranged," Aemon agreed readily.

Jessamyn's sharp mind impressed him—she was a skilled negotiator.

They finalized plans for trade, with Jessamyn proposing that her family distribute the coal throughout their lands.

By the time the evening ended, Aemon realized that Jessamyn wasn't just a potential bride; she was an ally.

And perhaps, in time, an invaluable one.