Kindly leave a review Ere, the hammer falls upon Gondor our companions host one final celebration before heading North to Arnor where they shall plan for the great battle of the Age, while in Westeros a Redwyne schemes as her mother did.
2 months later…
Two months had passed since the siege, and all was quiet; it seemed the long breath before taking the plunge, the forges rang, and the soldiers trained still there nought heard from Sauron.
It was rather queer, but he like many reckoned that the Lord of Mordor wished to gather all Evils to him, and they could scarcely march upon the Black Gate for not in Arda could breach its iron walls, so they must wait.
In these last two months, many of the Elves that had accompanied his Star had gone North heeding Gil-Galad's summons, while Galadriel had done much the same as she had before advising him on matters of court and war soon she, alongside his grandmother, became his mos trusted advisors even greater than Azruben doubtless, enjoying their closeness as did he. Nevertheless, he knew that she wished to keep an eye on him after the forging of Anariel though he could hardly blame her that blade was his deadliest creation, and it would do little good should he try to forge another.
For their part, the rest of his beloveds wished to aid him in the wars to come, so Arianne, his sister, Dany and Arya rose each morning before the sun had crested the mountains and took to the training yards for hour after hour they trained with sword, shield and any other weapon, til weariness overcame them, and their shoulders and arms were bruised a sickly purple from the blows. Although he was gladdened they wished to become warriors true, the thought of them marching to war filled him with dread; still, there was nought Jon could say to discourage them.
So when he was not troubled by the thoughts of war or the shackles of governance, he would often join them in the sparring yards; this pleased them, especially his sister, though she had not forgotten the mockery faced for her and Arya's deeds yet it seemed all was forgiven, she gladly met him in battle whether with Dramborleg or the Axe of Mithril, no doubt she hoped to avenge the indignity of wearing a dress. However, it wasn't a mere contest of arms as his sister promised if he bested her thrice, she would allow him to do whatever he desired each night.
Arianne and Daenerys were much the same as Rhaenys though they honestly wished to become skilled in their own right; he suspected they desired to spend as much time with him as they could before he was called forth to war, often arousing the ire of Shiera and Ashara who were often away in the Houses of Healing.
Of all his loves, Lalwen was the one who acted the most as if she were his honest wife, directing the servants in the care of the City; often times she was accompanied by Sansa, who was unhesitating to aid in whatever way was best much to his Lalwen's ire though she could hardly refuse the help as many refugees came to the City before heading northward to Arnor. Regardless, the spirit of comradery did little to quiet their rivalries; he could hardly hope for such miracles.
Arya was still brash as one could expect, yet Jon noticed a subtle change in her gone was the wild woman of her youth; she seemed grave and thoughtful, but stern as steel even her manner of speech changed far more proper, almost like a Lady… He truly hoped that Arya would change her ways. She was no longer a child and the time to act as such was long past. So he thought to test her resolve and appointed her Captain of the Guard.
Her task being the good order of the city, Arya thanked him sincerely for the show of trust and kissed him on the cheek, much to his shock as Arya seldom offered affection even to her own kin.
Nevertheless, Arya quickly embraced her new position with pride though there were some troubles as the Men of Osgiliath grumbled and grumped that one so young should be the Castellan of their chiefest city, some openly questioned his choice, yet the prospect of war and the support of Anárion swiftly silenced such grievances.
As for his beloved silver dragon and amethyst jewel, both had been entirely occupied teaching new healers and the brewing of poultices and potions. It was cruel to be parted from them for so long, yet he was immensely proud that his beloveds did so much to aid the city, and so he took the flower of Nimloth and set it in a silvery ball of crystal tempered by Vhagar's flames it was a remarkable creation that when struck by the light of the moon shone as a lamp in the dark.
Shiera and Ashara were pleased by the gift and thanked him each night often times together, though it was rather cruel as they could seldom outlast him, and each still had duties each morning.
Shiera had set the orb on a plinth in her room and often took it out at night so all could bask in its silvery glow; of course, this bauble pleased the elves immensely, who held great reverence for Nimloth and the Moon many a night he had caught at least a dozen of them huddled outside the windows of his dragons' chambers dancing, drinking and making merriment by is glow.
Rhaella often stayed at his side, acting as his councillor chiefly in the matters of provisioning the city and the collection of taxes his grandmother was wise in peace and now proved courageous in war; undoubtedly, she and Galadriel would be his chiefest supporters in the dark days ahead.
Alas, of all his lovers, Rhaella had shared his bed the least in the last months as her duties often had her labouring late into the night. By that time, he was either indisposed or tending to other matters arousing the ire of his proud grandmother. Indeed, the few times they had shared a bed, she had often been spirited riding him till her thighs were bruised and her bosom peppered with love bites, something she greatly relished.
King Elendil had spent the last months in communication with Himself and Anárion; fortunately, his King had said nought of punishment, and Jon wasn't keen to remind him. He knew the old Lord wasn't to be trifled with, but all was not lost, for Elendil had sent word that emissaries from Annuminas would come south to act as an escort for himself and his family when they came North.
His last orders were to treat them well, and though Jon was curious what his Lord meant, Elendil said no more on the matter, merely wishing him a safe journey when the time came.
'That's... Up... Up... That's it, we're done ...' Jon said happily, watching as two of his men set the last great stone in place, and with that, the Walls of Osgiliath were completed.
It was a glorious feeling knowing he had made the City a fortress of Westernesse even greater still as his family was here to witness such a triumph; to his left stood Rhaenys, and on his right, Lalwen stood beaming with pride.
'They are beautiful walls Nin Mel …' Írimë said, pecking him on the lips, and Rhaenys was not to be outdone, kissing him passionately, all the while glaring ruefully at Írimë.
'Írimë is right, dear brother… You did an exceptional job,' Rhaenys said, caressing his face lovingly; fortunately, where once they would have squabbled, it seemed after a century of loathing, his sister and Írimë had come to an accord much to his happiness.
'Aye, Jon, they shall break upon our Walls like water upon rock; you have my gratitude and friendship,' Anárion said heartily, admiring the walls of his ancient Capital.
'Thank you, King Anárion… My work is done for the moment … Is there news of your father and his Emissaries?' Jon asked, relishing the praise of his companions and King.
'Yes... He is marshalling his troops as is Gil-Galad though it shall take time to assemble such a host; in two years' time, they shall meet at the tower of Amon Sul, and as for his emissaries, they will be here soon, although I pity them, for the long trip they are making and the short time they will be here.' Anárion said sagely.
'A shrewd move, marching as a harmonious army… Although it will be a tremendous task to arm so many for war,' Jon acknowledged lamenting the trials of such a task.
'Aye, Elendil is a masterful warrior and general though I wish your mind was not troubled by thoughts of war but rather to celebrate the fruits of your many labours.' Galadriel said unexpectedly.
'My Star?...' Jon asked, shocked, eyeing his dearest suspiciously while she gazed at him lovingly.
'I have known you for many decades now, and just when I think I know all there is to know about you, my love, yet even after all these years, you continue to surprise me; this City shall be our home for many centuries hence though I hope you haven't forgotten your promise to me regarding Celebrian' Galadriel said sweetly, and he reddened in embarrassment.
But before he could answer, Lalwen kissed him roughly, ending his conversation with Galadriel as her tongue snaked its way into his mouth.
'Lalwen …' Jon growled vexingly, but she gave him a scornful look and eyed the others evilly. But, alas, he knew well her intentions.
'Aye, my love, I know it is your turn!' Jon acknowledged, and he heard Lalwen's melodious laughter in his mind.
'Thank you, Nin Mel.' Lalwen said, chortled merrily though her countenance turned sour as Rhaenys kissed him again.
'Perhaps I should flee lest I'm caught between them.' Jon thought nervously as he thought as Írimë and Rhaenys eyed each other ruefully. Indeed, he saw that Shiera, Ashara, and even his grandmother looked wholly displeased with Írimë's boldness though he could hardly blame them; his dearest flower was fiery and passionate even after all these years but tended to act a child when it came to their love.
fortunately, Anárion proved his worth as a friend. 'Well, Jon... what shall you do now? Will you return to the armouries or endeavour to train the soldiery?' Anárion asked happily.
Anárion's question caught them unawares, and the coming argument was swiftly forgotten as all eyes fell upon him.
'Thank you, my King.' Jon thought, grateful for the kindness of his friend.
'That's a fair question, Jon,' Isildur said unexpectedly.
'Forgive me, but what do you mean?' Jon asked.
'You have toiled long to ready our city for war whether upon the wall, in the forge or in the tilt yard none could ask more of you… I think you have earned a respite, Jon,' said Isildur gladly, his voice sufficed with fondness.
'But my King… The Dark Lord has declared war upon us,' cried Jon 'there is much still to do and little time to do it.'
'My brother is right, Jon; you have done much for our City, or Kingdom and people, our armouries are well provisioned our soldiers the pride of Middle Earth we can asl no more of you my friend, so I beg you enjoy what time you have before we march to war,' Anárion said placing a hand on his shoulder.
No sooner had Anárion said that his lady loves glanced at him joyfully... after these laborious months, they all deserved a furlough and his attention.
'Surely, there is more I can do!' Jon said, but Lalwen frowned and swatted his arm playfully.
'My beloved, the City is in good hands, and there is nought more you can do save storm the Dark Tower yourself… So it is only right that you should rest,' Írimë said gloomily, and he knew he couldn't deny his beloved such an appeal.
'Fine... Fine, I'll rest... until we must leave for Annuminas though if our fortunes turn ill, I will resume my duties...' Jon said earnestly, and the princes nodded while Jon's loved ones smiled cheerfully.
'A wise choice Nin Mel ... Now, come with me; it's been too long since we've been alone,' Lalwen said merrily, trying to lead him away, but their way was barred by Rhaenys.
'By the Valar!... Why must he go with you?' Rhaenys growled as Írimë glared at his sister defiantly.
'I persuaded him to take his furlough... and by the laws of Elves, I am his lawful wife... so Dear sister, I will go first,' Lalwen said boldly, glancing at her rivals in joyous glee.
They all saw as Rhaenys face reddened, yet where once she would've frothed in rage, she merely laughed.
'Fine… Witch, but remember you but one day… Then it will be my turn,' said Rhaenys; she then kissed him sweetly before re-joining their grandmother.
This was wholly odd as Rhaenys would sooner parade nude before the slavers of Lys than concede anything to Írimë.
Alas, all good things must end Arianne and Dany, seizing their chance, draw him away from Írimë, and soon the fights began anew.
'Thank you, my Kings, I shall repay you for your kindness.' thought Jon angrily. Isildur had the good sense to appear regretful though none could mistake the mirth in his eyes, while Anárion laughed heartily though his merriment was swiftly ended when his wife struck him on the arm.
'Well, Jon… We'll let you rest so… Well, spend the rest of your time with your family… But first, I would beg a favour.' Isildur said now, thoughtfully.
'What is?' Jon asked curiously, and Isildur smiled before removing his gauntlet and handing it to him; then drew Ithiel from her scabbard, and all understood what it meant according to the code of chivalry.
A challenge… A duel between two knights.
All were surprised by Isildur's gesture save Galadriel, for she had long known the mind of Elendil's heir; he had longed hoped to test his strength against Jon's, and it seems now the perfect chance.
'King Isildur …' Jon said, surprised, but joy was in his heart; it had been too long since crossing blades with a worthy foe.
'I know, it may seem foolish, but long have I wished to duel an Emissary of the Valar and to test Moon Daughters sting... doubly so when I learned that Glorfindel was your master at arms though you may refuse, I daresay I shall find no better opponent in all of Osgiliath! Nay our kingdom', Isildur said with a slight bow.
'I am honoured to be held in such high regard by you, my King, and I accept your challenge gladly... though I shall not make it easy for you,' said Jon and the followers of Isildur glowered at him, no doubt displeased by his cheek.
'Do it, and I will order you flogged; now go and rest… I wish you renewed for our fight,' Isildur said merrily.
'As you wish, my King,' Jon said.
'I must caution you, brother, that our Prince is a prodigious warrior… We have only fought once! by the Valar, we were young, but even then, the Lords of the Havens remarked upon his skillfulness,' Said Anárion smiling, eager to see their contest.
'In fact… I heard that even the Lady Galadriel was defeated in a similar practice….' Isildur said, glancing at Galadriel, whose countenance had turned sour, recalling how Jon had bested her handily indeed; he had to smother his laughter while his Star glared at him ruefully.
'Aye, brother, it's true he also claimed the ladies spear, rather daring yet wholly discourteous Jon!' Anárion said naively, unaware of the wager between lovers, and Jon was unsettled.
'Indeed, it was a rude thing on Prince Jon's part... one which I have forgiven him for long ago, Anárion, Son of Elendil... though he may require another lesson in humbleness,' Galadriel said evilly, glancing at him while his kin laughed merrily at his expense.
'I warned you that you would pay for your audacity to take my spear, my Wolf,' Galadriel said happily.
'Silence my Star, that wager was your idea!' Jon mumbled angrily, but he heard nought but her laughter and grumbled in anger.
Forgive me; I think we've caused a stir between the two,' Isildur said, glancing at his two guests.
'Don't fret, both of you, tis merely a game between my niece and my Nin Mel ...' Írimë said, amused by the display.
'Jon shouldn't act such a child, especially around her!' Sansa growled; her eyes alight with the jealously she held for Galadriel.
'Aye, my dear, alas, we've known Jon's temperament for years, and it's best we leave it alone', Rhaella said wearily, though Sansa could hear the vexation in her tone.
'Well, in that case, since our dearest has more time for us, perhaps he can fashion me a new Tiara,' Shiera said happily as Ashara hit her on the head.
'Shiera!' growled Ashara, displeased with her lovers' greed and struck her arm.
'Ugh... You're vicious, Ash,' Shiera retorted and pinched her cheek in recompense; soon, the two were quarrelling, much to Jon's amusement though his grandmother hid her face in mortification.
'Ah, You Westerosi are a most hardy folk,' Anárion said, amused by the japes of his oldest companions.
'You will get used to it soon 'Son of Elendil '... 'Galadriel said with a cheerful smile, recalling the words spoken by Glorfindel those many years ago.
'Cease your quarrelling, my dears, or mayhaps you should sojourn to the kennels?' Jon asked evilly, and immediately they halted, turning to him with fear in their eyes.
'You wouldn't dare!' Shiera whimpered, not believing her beloved would force such an undignified task upon her.
'Do you wish to test me, dearest?' He threatened, smiling as Shiera and Ashara went pale.
'It's not necessary, my love... We were merely jesting...' Ashara promised before kissing him rather forcefully, no doubt hoping to quell his anger.
'I hope so, my sweet Lily... As for Shiera 's request, I see no concern in fulfilling it as long as she behaves...' Jon said happily, and Shiera squealed in joy for her good fortune.
'Truly?' Ashara asked in surprise.
'Yes, but I think I'll go to the docks first and start building a ship, long have I been parted from the Sea, and my heart cries out to hear the sound of the waves...' Jon said, longing for the Great Sea or rather the Anduin's fierce currents.
'You have a strange opinion of what it is to rest my white Wolf...' Arianne giggled.
'I agree with Arianne, Nin Mel,' Írimë said, striking him gently on the chest.
'For me, that is rest Nin Mel; it fills my heart with joy to hammer the mast, tend the forge or compose a verse,' Jon said, wearied after such toil as was forced upon him.
'Well, it seems that first, you need to rest... You look unsettled,' Daenerys said, worried for her nephew.
'Aye, I need to get some sleep.' Jon said, suddenly wearied.
'Then go and rest, Jon. I'm in no hurry for our duel; that can wait a day or two, and I think a celebration is in order for all we've done though I fear it shall be the last one for a long time,' Isildur said sombrely.
'I think Arianne may be the right person for that,' Rhaella said, smiling as she saw the Dornish Princess frown as her duties would keep her from Jon.
'Yes, it's a pleasing thought, grandmother!' Rhaenys said, glancing at her cousin evilly.
Arianne growled, looming over Rhaenys, who smiled mockingly, but Jon embraced her before she could utter a curse.' Please, my dear viper, your parties and banquets are always a delight for everyone... And I feel this will be our last one in a long time.'
'Very well, my Wolf, I'll do it for you... Now go rest...' Arianne said, standing on tiptoes to give him a quick kiss.
Returning to his rooms, he found maids of the household waiting for him; upon seeing their Lord, the maids sprang into action, drawing a hot bath, laying out a pitcher of wine and arranging the bed in case he wished to sleep. Jon thanked them and quietly disrobed before slipping into the tub; the warm waters were particularly soothing, scented with jasmine and lavender.
After finishing his bath, he slipped into a nightshift and lay under the furs, reckoning one of his loves would come for him, and he was proven right when the door to his chamber was thrown open a moment later.
Daenerys entered dressed in a sheer silken gown; she carried with her a small flask of scented oils, and he was glad while he enjoyed the touch of Lalwen and Galadriel, Dany's tender caresses could never be replaced.
'I was waiting for you, my sweet Dany,' he said with a smile while his beloved aunt blushed.
'You know me well, nephew,' she said, drawing him into a heated kiss; their tongues duelled for a while, yet he won out, and soon Dany was mewling and moaning as he peppered her neck and lips with sweet kisses.
'Are you nervous…' She asked merrily.
'You know me well… I longed for your touch!' Jon said with a smile, and Daenerys kissed him lovingly once more.
'Turn on your back, my dear nephew… Let me serve you,' Daenerys said sweetly, her eyes glittering in lustful mirth.
'I've yearned for your touch,' Jon whispered, enjoying the sweet aroma of the oil and the tenderness of his aunt's delicate hands.
'By the Valar nephew, each time I massage you, it seems you grow tenser than the last time,' Daenerys said worriedly as she released another knot from his neck.
'Forgive me, Dany; I've seldom let myself a moment to rest since the War began,' Jon said gloomily. Daenerys frowned, for all the joys of her nephews' life none had come without sacrifice, and once more, they must bear the burdens brought forth by the shadow, but none of that mattered she could do her part to ease these burdens.
She spent the next hour tending to her nephew, loosening his muscles, and removing the knots that riddled his back; all the while, Jon groaned and gasped in appreciation.
'Ahh, this is where I belong, healing my dearest nephews hurts,' Daenerys thought happily.
But the idyllic moment was disturbed when the door opened again, and in strolled a shocked Írimë though her countenance quickly soured; she had known her husband would be attended by one of the girls she hadn't thought to find him like this.
'Oh... I see I interrupted you,' said Írimë gruffly, latching the door so that no one could enter, something that Daenerys cursed herself for not doing; it seems she must be mindful of in the future.
'Yes… Although I was about to finish.' Daenerys moaned, returning to the task at hand.
'Well met, Nin Mel …' Jon said warily, seeing his dearest carried a bundle of cloth in her arms, but she huffed, not deigning to meet his gaze.
'I thought to find you alone, Nin Mel. Don't you have to say anything?' Lalwen said, vexed by her dragon's circumstances.
'Well...' Jon groaned, relishing his closeness with Dany; alas, Írimë's glare soured the mood.
'What's wrong, Nin Mel?' Jon asked, vexed by her interruption, though he saw the parcel in her arms.
'I've come to give you a gift, my foolish dragon!' Írimë retorted, Dany laughed at the elf's cheek, though Írimë sneered and opened the parcel.
She then revealed an elven robe of a golden colour that seemed to glimmer like the embers of the sun upon the chest was sewn a tree of great loveliness; its green leaves were edged with gold, and its flowers were like to clusters of yellow flame, upon seeming sich beauty Jon and Daenerys gasped in wonderment.
'What do you think?' Írimë giggled, quite proud of her work.
'It's beautiful...' Daenerys said, enraptured by the robe.
'It's... It's wonderful, Nin Mel,' Jon said, amazed by his dearest skill.
'Thank you… I was inspired by a raiment worn by my great uncle, King Ingwë; it to was woven by his wife. Do you see the decorations? They represent Laurelin since my mother's people held a deep love for the Two Trees.' Lalwen said, quite pleased with herself.
'And I assume there is another that embodies Telperion …' Jon said, sure of the answer, and Írimë laughed gayly.
'Yes, although my niece insisted on weaving it herself, you know how Artanis adores things of white and silver, she favoured to knit you a robe over representing Telèrion… it is for you to wear to the party tonight, oh, Nin Mel with this you will look like a true Lord of the Vanyar!' Írimë said dreamily, and he smiled for the love of her gesture.
'I shall wear it, my Songbird,' Jon groaned as he felt Dany press hard into his back.
'It's not my intention to make you feel lesser, Dany,' Jon said, sensing her anger.
'We'll see about that, dear nephew,' Daenerys growled, glancing at Lalwen with admiration and anger in equal measure.
'I'm sorry, Daenerys, I didn't mean to interrupt your time with my Husband,' Lalwen said daringly, revealing she cared little for interrupting them.
'Very Well, now will you please leave?' Daenerys asked irritably, and Lalwen was silent for a few moments.
'No, this is my chambers as well... I'll stay here and see you relieve our beloved's pain,' Írimë said, sitting on the edge of the bed and Daenerys glowered at her angrily.
'Do as you wish, but be warned, I plan to do more than soothe his pains,' Dany said with a wicked smile as Lalwen looked at her coldly.
'I didn't know you were as insolent as Rhaenys, Daenerys… I remind you that you're in my bed,' Lalwen snarled jealously.
'It is yours for the truth our host did not wish to offend you,' Dany replied, resuming her massage.
'Please do not quarrel!' Jon groaned, but they dismissed him.
'Silence Nin Mel … This is between your aunt and me… Írimë turned back to Daenerys. 'I do not wish to torment you as I do with Rhaenys.'
'Neither do I desire your ire, but I've waited too long to be with him!' Daenerys said, peppering his neck with kisses.
'Thank you for your kindness, Dany,' Jon said happily; turning to Dany, she kissed him greedily while Írimë glared at them enviously.
'Now... It's time for the second part of my scheme, dear nephew,' Daenerys said mischievously as she glanced at Írimë, pleading for her to leave, but the Princess of the Noldor shook her head.
Dany groaned, accepting that Írimë would stay to watch them swiftly discarding her gown bearing her buxom form to them both though Írimë said nothing, merely cleaning her nails, disinterested in the mortal girl although her eyes betrayed a particular anxiousness.
'Okay, okay... It's your turn ...' Jon said resignedly, glancing at Lalwen apologetically.
'Well… I won't be greedy as Rhaenys… I shall go first, Írimë,' Daenerys said, kissing him again, feeling eager knowing that she was being watched by a Princess of the Noldor, as far as she knew that Elves didn't indulge in such depravities and hoped perhaps Írimë would leave.
Alas, her thoughts were interrupted when Jon gently slid his cock inside her cunt; fortunately, whatever pain she may have felt being so filled was abated by the slickness of her maidenhood.
Jon fucked his aunt with eagerness, her large arse smacking against his thighs; they made love as dragons writhing, groaning their tongues duelling fiercely as he thrust ever more swiftly, and soon his thighs were stained with her juices.
For a moment, He reflects on what Daenerys was like when they met. She had been so young then, a girl desperate to find a home, so endearing and naive, yet their time in Middle-Earth had changed her considerably; gone was the wistful maiden who cowered under her brothers' rages and in her place blossomed a voluptuous, sensual, and passionate woman.
He was drawn out of his thoughts as Dany rode his cock faster and faster, eager to meet his thrusts halfway. Jon smiled and smacked her fleshy arse, and his aunt wailed in pleasure before slumping forward, wholly sated.
They knew they had an audience, but at the moment, neither he nor Dany cared. No, this was their love shared gloriously in that moment; it was as if the world ceased and nought lived save themselves. Gazing into Dany's amethyst orbs, he wondered what came after Sauron's downfall.
But what shall he do after? Perhaps travel to the faraway places of the world seeking adventure as a wandering warrior or mayhaps return to the Grey Havens and study with his master once more.
Yet as he thought on the matter, Jon truly knew what his heart desired a faraway dream of boyhood that seemed so foolish to have a family who loved him, sons and daughter who called him father to grow old with his loves and raise his children in peace and comfort far from the horrors of the world.
That will surely drive the Noldor mad to see Lalwen and Galadriel bear his children... he wouldn't like to consider what their kin might say, especially King Finarfin and Lord Ingwe.
Yet all thoughts of the future were drowned out when he heard a throaty moan from the foot of the bed; it was his sweet Lalwen who was now wholly flushed and drenched in sweat, one hand teasing her full bosom while the other teased the lips of her maidenhood.
Seeing the lust in her green eyes, he extended a hand to her, and Lalwen quickly approached him, kissing him fiercely while Daenerys, already sated, groaned in vexation and slid off him, permitting Lalwen to take her place.
'It's been a while, my beloved Lalwen ...' He began to say, though Írimë quickly silenced him. 'Not now, Jon... Just kiss me and love me, claim me my dragon!'
Lalwen wrapped her soft hands about his cock and began caressing him unhurriedly. He groaned in appreciation, feeling his beloved deft hands stroke him with a skill few could rival. She kissed and licked him, soon it was shimmering in spit. 'By the Valar, my Songbird, your hands are without rival!' Seemingly pleased by his words, Írimë kissed the head of his cock, her spit and Dany's essence let her stroke him faster as she continued to pleasure him with her mouth.
She gave him cock one last lick before drawing him into another kiss; he embraced her lovingly before pulling her on top of him Lalwen was ever the proper maiden, yet when they were alone, she was as bawdy as any wench he had ever seen, and it filled him with fierce love to know her heart belonged to him.
'Lalwen, come sit on my cock; I desire to feel your warmth,' He growled. Írimë smiled. 'As you wish, my beloved.' she reached down to grasp him, coating his manhood in her essence before they became one.
He fucked Írimë with an eagerness born of love, the sound of their coupling echoing throughout the chamber as her fleshy arse bounced against his thighs; soon, his manhood and groin were drowned in her honeyed nectar as his Songbird moaned in delight. 'Oh, by the Valar fuck me, my beloved dragon, conquer me!' hearing his Lalwen say such vulgar things lit a fire in his belly; he rose up and wrapped his arms around her slender waist, bringing her into for another lustful kiss.
Their coupling was beautiful and lustful as his thoughts turned to Írimë growing fat with his child, the first Peredhil since their ancestor Eärendil those many centuries ago. But, alas, in his heart, he knew their child would not be born for many more years.
They made love for what felt like ages until, at last, Írimë wailed in pleasure, staining the sheets with her honeyed nectar; he was swift to follow, filling her womb with his seed Írimë rolled off and lay next to him and kissed him once more; she was tired and sated.
'At last, we have our time together... My Nin Mel,' Lalwen moaned happily, and Daenerys snorted.
'Only one week,' Dany said jealously before kissing him once more.
'Aye, but I shall make the most of it,' Lalwen complained, still clinging to his arm.
'Let us have a quick rest; we must regain our strength for tonight's party... And I want to wear the tunic you made for me, Lalwen,' Jon said, kissing the beautiful elf.
'We'd better rest now,' Daenerys said, curling up beside him and falling asleep.
'Don't you dare ignore me!' Lalwen growled angrily; alas, she was answered by snoring.
After resting for a few hours and taking another bath, Jon entered the Great Hall flanked on either side by his aunt and Írimë.
Lalwen was his consort and Dany his aunt, so escorting them was appropriate for such an event.
Many in the Hall stood in awe of Lalwen's Elven beauty though many too were enraptured by his aunt's ethereal countenance.
However, he too drew the eyes of the Lords, for his raiment was fair clad in the tunic of Laurelin that shone as the sun, upon his brow the Star of Ulmo glittering as the sea and pinned to his breast the Elessar he heard many whispers of awe though he could scarcely blame them for none had wore such gifts since ere the Lords of the Vanynar came to these lands.
Though such grandeur unsettled him, he hoped to please his beloved Lalwen, who shone with happiness that her creation caused such a stir.
Nevertheless, he was enraptured by the splendour of the celebration; doubtless, it was an honour that his beloved viper could do so much with so little; from the ceiling hung banners bearing the heraldries of the Houses of Elendil, Anárion, Isildur, Finwë, Finarfin and Targaryen. There were spirits of every flavour and strength, stuffed boar and aurochs, the tables set with many garlands; most pleasing of all was a company of Elven minstrels who sang many a cheerful tune while the Lords of Gondor drank and celebrated for the last time.
Seeing him arrive with Lalwen at his side, the inhabitants of the City began to whisper they were Tuor and Idril come again.
Although this aroused the ire of his lady loves, who looked on as Lalwen smiled merrily for what grander honour could such a union receive, though Dany seemed displeased to be ignored, so he kissed her much to the pleasure of his subjects who hooped and hollered in admiration of their Prince.
It was then he sensed a swell of great anger nearing them; he turned, and there stood his lady loves, each clad in raiments of great beauty even Arya seemed a true Lady; he was quite astonished, wondering where Arya would have obtained such fine pieces as she had never asked for jewellery or ornaments only weapons and stout mail.
Leading them was his beloved Galadriel clad in a gown of white silk set with silvered leaves wrought of pearl; the dress was cut low, offering a daring view of her bosom, and one leg left bare, she too wore his gifts, a necklace of Valyrian steel and one he had newly forged.
A silver crown carven with songbirds and flowers, Alatáriel was the Telerin name given to Galadriel by Celeborn, meaning Maiden Crowned with Radiant Garland, which referred to his beloved's golden tresses, and so he thought it a great gift to forge her a crown of her own.
'Lady Galadriel...' He greeted courteously, bowing low, and she returned the gesture in kind though they were weary of this game and yearned to bear their love to the world.
'Prince Baelon … Aunt, Princess Daenerys,' Galadriel said politely, but Jon could see the enviousness in her glittering eyes.
'What's wrong with him?' He wondered, not knowing that Galadriel was vexed she could not spy upon his tryst with Írimë and Dany though all was forgotten when Isildur and Anárion appeared.
'Welcome, Jon… Lady Írimë and Princess Daenerys,' Anárion said merrily. He was accompanied by his wife and Melendil, who seemed quite pleased to be there.
'King Anárion, Queen Elirien and Prince Melendil ...' Jon said, bowing as Lalwen and Dany did the same.
'At last you come… We began to think you would sleep till the end of Arda; Lady Arianne arranged a splendid party,' Anárion said, looking over his subjects with great love.
' Aye, there is no doubt that Arianne has a gift for arranging parties and feasts… No matter how swiftly she must do so, though I daresay that is a party of special magnificence.' Jon said, and Arianne reddened at his words, pleased to be recognized for her endeavours.
'Thank you, my Wolf,' Arianne said, toying with her ebon tresses, though she was displeased as she could not draw him away from Lalwen nor Dany while Anárion conversed with them.
A sentiment shared by the rest of his lovers as he saw Galadriel and Rhaenys eyeing Írimë angrily, but his Songbird paid them no mind, merely smiling ruefully, for she had him to herself for the moment.
'And may I say, my friend, your garments are glorious, seldom have I seen such beauty save for in the tales of yore!' Anárion toasted while Lalwen laughed happily.
'Thank you for such high praise, King Anárion; I certainly use all my skills to prepare a robe worthy of my Nin Mel,' Írimë said lovingly and overjoyed that they recognized her hard work.
'You are fortunate, Jon… Hmm… is that Laurelin the golden embroidered upon the robe?' Anárion asked, remembering his lessons.
'Yes, my dearest is quite skilful when it comes to weaving and sewing,' Jon said happily. But, alas, he could see the hints of enviousness in the eyes of his ladies, there was little to be done with such an assemblage of people.
'Ah, my wolf wait until you gaze upon the tunic I have made for you; it shall be far greater than my aunt's work', Galadriel said sourly, no doubt displeased that he praised Írimë's work so highly.
'My beloved Star, this is not a contest; your creations are as exquisite as Lalwen's. I am looking forward to wearing the robe you knit for me as I am sure it will be beautiful… Although you may have to hurry to complete it before retiring for the North.' Jon said, hoping to calm his Star.
'It is a promise, my Wild Wolf!' Galadriel said, eager to see her beloved wearing her work.
' Aye, Lady Írimë 's gift seems to glow as if the Golden has bloomed once more,' Anárion said in wonder, and his wife, displeased that he would praise another woman's work so strongly, swatted his arm angrily.
'I'm sorry, my love, I only recognized the beauty of the objects that Jon carries with him as well as the robe that the Lady Írimë knitted for him,' Anárion said quickly.
'Oh, my Lady Galadriel, that is a beautiful crown,' Queen Elirien said, gazing at the silvered crown in wonder and envy.
'Thank you, My Lady, it was a gift,' Galadriel said, smiling with satisfaction as she watched her wolf redden; it seems his family were of a mind with her as they giggled behind their hands and spoke softly to one another.
'Even after all these years, it is delightful to embarrass my dearest with praise.' Galadriel thought, amused at seeing her husband's embarrassment.
'I will not forget this, my Star!' She merely smiled at him, eager for a new wager between them.
Unknowing of the quarrel between the lovers, Anárion's wife and Isildur's, who had joined them, continued to gaze in wonder at the jewels of Galadriel, indeed all the Westerosi who each bore a piece of superb quality.
Both Queens started whispering in their husbands' ears, asking for gems of such beauty for themselves.
However, Jon could sense the misgivings of Isildur's third son, Ciryon, who, although holding him in high esteem, was somewhat vexed that his appearance was grander than that of his father and uncle.
… Here we go again… Jon thought with annoyance.
'I would like to meet your jeweller, my Lady Galadriel unless he yet abides in Edhellond. Your crown and necklace are the most beautiful pieces I have ever seen, matched only by your aunt Írimë's dragon necklace,' Said Queen Berendreth, drawing Jon out of his thoughts.
'Yes, and I would like to know how much did Prince Baelon have to pay for those beautiful gems?' Queen Elirien asked curiously.
And his lady love began giggling merrily, no doubt pleased by the Queen's unfamiliarity of the matter.
'Did we say something amusing?' Queen Berendreth asked; Isildur laughed and kissed her sweetly.
'No, my dear, yet you shan't have to look further for their jeweller; he stands right next to you,' Isildur said happily, while his wife looked at Jon in wonder.
'Prince Baelon, forgive me; I hadn't thought you a jeweller. I always thought your talents lay in the forging of weapons and stonecraft; this is a most welcome surprise,' Berendreth said apologetically.
'Thank you, my Queen, for a humble goldsmith; it is a joy that my work is appreciated,' Jon said humbly while his loved ones snorted.
'Your skill is wonderful; if even the Lady Galadriel openly wears your creations, such skill rivals even the artisans of Numenor,' Elirien said in wonderment.
'I thank you, my Queens. I learned much under the tutelage of the Dwarves and from the teaching of Enerdhil,' Jon said, bowing again.
'So it's true, mayhaps you could forge something for us as well?' Berendreth said as she and Elirien glanced at their husbands hopefully though his King's turned dour as they knew such a plea would interrupt his furlough.
'Well, if it's what my Queens desire, so it shall be,' He said, glancing at his King's in satisfaction though it seemed the rulers had swallowed a lemon for their countenance soured the brothers knew well when he forged jewels or items of such beauty he hoped to be reimbursed handsomely for the effort, something he learned from King Durin and his many artisans why do good work if you can't charge a great deal for it.
'Splendid…' Anárion said sarcastically.
Isildur sighed and began to rub his temple.
'Very well… Before we may enjoy the fruits of Arianne's labour, I bring news from the North,' Isildur said grimly, and all knew it concerned the war to come.
'What news, brother?' Anárion asked, getting closer to his wife.
'I took council with father yesterday; it shall take some two years for the armies of Arnor and Lindon to be assembled. You and I will go North while Anárion guards the Southern Realm, and once all is made ready, we shall march to Amon-Sul and from there to Rivendell,' Elendil's heir said solemnly, and Jon nodded.
'I must confess I knew this would be our King's wish even with our combined host; it would be foolish to march for Mordor so hastily,' Jon acknowledged taciturnly.
'A wise choice Prince Jon; we know nought what horrors the Dark Lord has prepared for us,' Galadriel agreed with her husband.
'Yes. my father thinks the same… That is why he and King Gil-Galad prefer to unite their armies and then leave for Imladris, where we shall hold a council of war… Although they will be glad to know that King Oropher and King Amdir of Lorien have accepted King Gil-Galad's summons, and they have already begun to arm themselves for battle,' Isildur said proudly.
'Praise be to the Valar ...' Anárion said, happy to think the war could be ended swiftly.
'Aye, I also bear a message from Lord Elrond,' Isildur said.
'A message?' Jon asked, intrigued.
'It's not bad, it's an invitation... Lord Elrond has offered Imladris as a refuge for our families so long as Sauron endures!' Isildur said, to the surprise of all assembled.
'A refuge?' Jon asked, presuming Elrond must have his reasons the Lord of Imladris is eminently wise and powerful even among his kin, and such gifts should not be shunned.
A quick glance at Lalwen and Galadriel told him they thought the same.
Elrond's generosity is greatly appreciated...' Jon said, glancing at his family, who knew he was of a mind with Elrond.
'Jon…' Arya tried to argue but was swiftly silenced by Ashara
'Although it's not all good news... I told my Father of the aid given at Minas Ithil, and he was displeased,' Isildur said, glancing at him regretfully, and Jon knew he would face punishment for his cheek.
'I see…' Jon said gloomily
'Aye, he was furious though I counselled him to leniency as your aid was much needed, and though his ire is still great, my father shall forgive your boldness provided you share with him all you have learned in the arts of forging,' Isildur said, looking at Jon intently and this resigned sigh.
'If it is my King's desire, so shall it be done', Jon agreed as Lalwen kissed him tenderly.
'Anything else, brother?' Anárion asked, but Isildur shook his head.
'Nya, he merely wishes us a safe journey and hopes we can come with all haste', Isildur replied.
'In that case, let's move on to something more cheerful. This is a splendid party; we should not let it be ruined,' Anárion said jovially, and all laughed in merriment.
'Aye, let us celebrate,' Jon said happily, though his heart was clouded by sadness, for he knew these would be the last happy days of Gondor for a long while, and many of these noble Lords and fair Princes the world would not see their like again.
At that moment, Lalwen and Dany escorted him to the dance floor, and they were swiftly followed by his other loves; all the while, Isildur and Anárion laughed and cheered for their boldness as they celebrated their last night of peace.
Through the night, it seemed the weariness of the world faded from their minds. There was no talk of war nor the battles ahead, merely the thought of love and life as the Men of Westernese and the Elves celebrated as brothers as in the days of yore. He danced through the night with each of his loves first came Lalwen, then Dany and Sansa, Rhaenys came after her, then his grandmother, Arya, Shiera, Ashara and lastly, Arianne each claimed two dances from him.
Furthermore, Jon danced with the Queens of Isildur and Anárion as a courtesy while their Kings danced with other women.
However, Jon was missing a single person, the most desired woman in the Hall besides Lalwen … His beloved Galadriel waited for her turn anxiously.
Yet, her turn came, and Jon, knowing that his beloved was uneasy, went to her and extended his hand requesting a dance and Galadriel, with a smile as radiant as her Silmaril, gladly accepted, and they began the last dance of the night.
As they danced, their closeness caught the attention of Elendur, Ciryon, and even some of the elves that escorted Galadriel and Lalwen were troubled to see the reverence their Lady held for the Prince of Osgiliath.
It was almost as if she… loved him. She loved him despite knowing that he was married to her aunt Írimë; at first, everyone dismissed that idea as absurd, but if there were any doubts, they began to disperse when at the end of the dance, she kissed him on the forehead.
At that moment, the Elves gazed upon the emissary of the Valar with distrust, for he was taking far too many liberties with their Lady. But, alas, it seems only Elendur knew the truth, but he would say nought for risk of angering the Elves and his family.
Two days later
They stood in the practice yard, Jon clad in his dwarven plate as a squire handed him Ringil and the shield of the High King; he usually wouldn't bring forth such vestments save for war, but Isildur had requested they fight as if it were a true battle.
Indeed despite the duel occurring at first light, it drew many spectators who flooded the arena eager to see their Prince and King duel; among them were numerous Men and Elves who hoped the son of Elendil would humble the young Prince.
The best view was reserved for the families of the Prince and King; they were supplied jams, sweet tarts and iced juices as it was far too early for wine.
'Will it start soon?' Arya asked excitedly, eager to see Jon defeat Isildur.
'Yes, they are already arming themselves for combat, my Lady', Elendur replied.
Arya was like a child again, much to the amusement of Ashara and Sansa, who struggled to have their wayward charge sit still.
'By the Valar, would they get this over with' Rhaenys muttered, anxious to spend the evening with her brother, though unbeknownst to her, Írimë was keeping an eye on her.
'Everyone is excited to see our Wolf battle King Isildur …' Arianne said, taking note of how many had gathered.
'They're about to start...' Anárion said excitedly.
Galadriel and Rhaella said nothing and nodded even though the Lady of Light had begun to feel discontent among her people... As if something troubled them.
Do they suspect Jon and me ?' Galadriel wondered, it is true that during the last dance with her lover, she could hardly master her feelings, and perhaps she was far too bold, but they were tired of such secrecy.
'Oh, for the Valar, no, not yet… It's too soon!' Galadriel thought, fearful that her love for her Wolf might be revealed at such an inopportune time.
At last, Isildur revealed himself striding into the yard clad in full harness, Ithiel glittered cold and bright in his hands.
'Are you ready, Jon?' Isildur asked happily.
'Aye, my King though, I think it best we clash lest the anticipation drives us mad,' Jon said, drawing Ringil from her scabbard.
'Now it begins….' Jon muttered, and none save the Elves heard him.
Isildur came with such swiftness that Jon had scarce time to raise his shield, doing all he could to evade the King's assault, stepping off the line of attack and retreating hastily in an effort to put some distance between them. Yet Isildur came after him relentlessly, Ithiel flashing as it sliced through the air again and again.
Jon knew he was a vastly superior warrior then than he had been when he first came to Middle Earth those centuries past, having been trained by the mightiest Elf of Gondolin. He was older, wiser and far swifter than he had once been, yet he still struggled with the pace of the battle Isildur was setting, even more so with the great King's experience.
After trading blows for several minutes, they parted, and the two knights continued to stalk around each other, Isildur launching the occasional testing strike, which Jon would deflect with the barest turn of his wrist, but neither had brought their full might to bear.
'My brother is the better swordsman,' Anárion said thoughtfully, eyeing the battle with keen interest.
'But my beloved brother is far swifter and mightier,' Rhaenys replied.
'This fight shall not be decided swiftly', Elendur added, admiring the mastery of his Father and Jon.
Isildur once more pressured him with a flurry of blows, yet he could match Isildurs swiftness and took each blow upon his shield.
'There is no doubt that this shield is the mightiest bulwark of the Elven King's to resist the blows of Grond and now Ithiel!' Isildur acknowledged.
Another blow thundered into Jon's shield, yet this one was strong enough to wrench the shield from his hands. He slashed a riposte towards Isildurs neck, but the King stepped back and brought Ithiel down with great strength, and to their astonishment, Jon stopped the blade though it bit deeply into his vambrace and pierced his arm, drawing blood.
'Jon didn't wear his full hauberk? The fool will get himself hurt,' Arianne said, fearful for the safety of her husband.
Though Isildur had put too much strength behind the blow and stumbled off balance. Jon growled and backhanded the King away. He then pulled the sword from his arm and threw it to the Isildur, who deftly caught it though his face was bruised from his mailed fist.
'What strength…' whispered one of the Elven Captains who was watching the battle.
'Prince Baelon is very honourable... He returned King Isildur's sword to be able to finish the battle properly ...' Lord Azrubên acknowledged, worried that the battle would get out of control because neither of them seemed to want to give in.
'This training is far too dangerous for my liking,' Queen Berendreth said, worried about her husband while Elendur reassured her.
Jon lunged for him, and Isildur danced out of the way. Jon turned, sweeping his blade overhead and bringing it crashing down in a heavy, diagonal strike.
Closing the distance once more, Isildur lunged at Jon, feinting high and coming in low with a brutal attack intended to disarm him. It seemed Jon guessed his intentions, and dropped the angle of his guard to block the attack, but Isildur knew and swiftly switched the slant of his blow. Then, spinning on his heels, he turned swiftly, his blade mere inches from Jon's shoulder, yet he blocked it in a remarkable display of speed.
The dance of blades went on like this for much of the afternoon in some moments, one almost overcame the other, yet each time drawing upon more strength to fight on their blades, a flurry of blows so fast it seemed like the clashing of lightning, the audience watched enraptured as the two fought on neither willing to yield to the other.
No one remembered how long they duelled; for now, it seemed less a spar and more a contest of wills though, after several more hours, the most extraordinary thing happened after regarding each other for a few moments, both sheathed their blades.
'Enough... Neither of us can beat the other ...' Isildur said, and Jon nodded.
'Your blade work is masterful, King Isildur … You are a much finer warrior than your brother, although I haven't fought him for many years, so my opinion is perhaps unreasonable still; your swordsmanship is sublime,' Jon acknowledged.
'And your strength and speed are extraordinary … How is your arm?' Isildur asked, concerned, but his fears were unfounded as he saw that Jon's arm bore no wound, merely a slight scar where his blade had pierced him.
They turned to the crowned and were welcomed by thunderous applause. Jon looked to the stands and saw his lovers, each eyeing him lustfully.
'oh, by the Valar.' Jon thought, terrified when suddenly several soldiers ran into the yard, each bearing the livery of the guard; they came swift as the wind and knelt before Isildur, who seemed confused.
'What's going on?' Isildur asked, bewildered.
'My King, your father's emissaries have arrived', One of the soldiers declared though he seemed confused.
'What are you waiting for? Bring them here!' Isildur said impatiently.
'We have my King... though I think it best you see them with your own eyes.' The soldiers glanced at each other warily, but Jon could sense the anger of his loves though he knew not what would rile them.
Jon's answers came when he saw The Emissaries of King Elendil ... A garrison of soldiers that he was certain hadn't seen twenty winters in truth; if it weren't for their livery and the banners they bore, he would have thought them the camp cooks rather than honest emissaries.
'What's going on here?' Jon thought.
'You will know soon, my Wolf', Galadriel said suddenly, and Jon could feel the bitterness in her voice.
Upon seeing Isildur, the emissaries swiftly dismounted their horses and bowed low in greeting.
'Are you emissaries of my Father?' Isildur asked after a moment.
'Yes, King Isildur …' One of the young soldiers said; he was tall and broad though not robust, clearly a farmer's son unused to the rigours of battle.
'What is your name, lad?' Isildur asked?
'Borneas...' Said that young man who appeared to be their captain.
'What is my father's purpose in sending you here?' Isildur asked.
'Train… We are soldiers, yet our drills our not complete; in Annuminas, there are already too many officers taking charge of the training of the fresh recruits, but King Elendil ordered us to come here so that Prince Baelon would command the last part of our training' Borneas said happily glancing at him with an odd reverence.
'Handle your training?' Jon said in shock as the soldiers looked at him admiringly.
'Yes, King Elendil sent us here for that purpose. I confess that it was bizarre to travel here if, in the end, we would return... But we could not neglect the prospect to learn the arts of war from Prince Baelon, who was taught in many trades by the Wise of Middle-earth as well as the King of Khazad-dûm; those were the words of King Elendil,' Said the young soldier looking at him in admiration while Isildur gave him a look of pity.
Elendil's punishment, it was unlikely that the High King of the Dúnedain would know he had sought to rest before coming North, yet it seems the old King had foreseen it.
At that moment, Isildur put a hand on his shoulder. 'I'm sorry, Jon, but it seems my father chose the most opportune moment to punish you,' Isildur said sadly as Jon nodded.
'I would have preferred whipping… That wouldn't have lasted that long!' Jon said bitterly as the young soldiers knelt and swore their oaths of fealty to him.
- - -.
The Arbor, Westeros (A few weeks later)
Mina Tyrell was having an exciting afternoon; she was chatting animatedly with her good sister Alerie; she had come to visit her in the Arbor along with her niece Margaery and her nephew Garlan and his wife, the Fossoway girl, all at the invitation of her husband. Unfortunately, however, her brother Mace was not with them as he was still recovering from his imprisonment by the new Targaryen King, a horrible affair if what her good sister told her was true.
Normally Mina would enjoy spending time with her brother's wife much more; however, since her nephew Loras was exiled from Westeros, Alerie is far dourer although she can't blame her, one of her children is missing... Or rather two if what she had heard about her former ward is true as Alerie's rage against her brother and mother were such that they say her screams and curses could be heard in Oldtown.
Although Mina could not understand how her brother and Alerie allowed themselves to become so enamoured of the boy, still she would not judge them since she is also a mother; she would not know what to do if one of her children was taken away from her. But, alas, despite her compassion for their plight, she could not neglect the task that her husband had given her... convince Alerie to tell her everything she knew about her former ward... To which she gladly agreed though it saddened her greatly to be reminded of the boy she had raised as one of her own indeed, her mother's callousness would help Paxter forge a bond with the boy when he returned.
Her husband had revealed to her that several weeks ago, he had a secret meeting with Randyll Tarly and Mathys Rowan hosted by Ser Richard Lonmouth, one of Prince Rhaegar's former squires; her husband told her everything they discussed at that meeting, such as the true origins of the Prince and the legitimacy of his birth.
To say that Mina was shocked by that was an understatement... That boy who was just a bastard from the North who had the great fortune to grow up as a ward in Highgarden and enjoy the favour of the Guardian of the South and his wife was now the younger brother of King Aegon and his heir, at least until the King has children with his bastard cousin.
That seemed like a cruel joke; just like her husband, she had never taken a keen interest in the boy except that her brother and his wife seemed to love him like a son, which she found surprising and annoying, although she could understand why he did not act as a scoundrel like bastards were accustomed to do.
Prince Baelon was in those years an intelligent, sensible, quiet, respectful, courteous, skilled and very handsome young man, being a splendid warrior and singer, something that she herself applauded in the times that he came to visit in those days the halls of the Arbor would be filled with his sweet voice however the Prince was much more than a singer, he was likewise skilled in arms and bested her three sons in the Tourney of Oldtown indeed he earned her ire that day as no mother wishes to see her sons so handily defeated, she merely tolerated him for her love of Mace and Alerie.
However, her daughter Desmera had been smitten with him, constantly looking for excuses to discreetly approach the Prince when he came to visit. Even on one occasion, she tried to embroider for him a doublet with the inverted colours of House Stark, but her efforts were thwarted by her brothers, who informed them of their sisters' intentions; it was then that she and her husband explained to their daughter that since he was a bastard, he was not a good match for her and could not marry him.
The misery of her daughter had been terrible to behold… And now that bastard she and her husband considered unworthy of their daughter was the heir to the Iron Throne… The gods must love to mock them with their ironies, especially when understanding the missed opportunity.
She and her husband choose to keep this information a secret from their children as well as Mace and Alerie … At least until the right time comes, she truly loves her family, but House Redwyne cannot forsake an opportunity for mere hurt feelings… So supposing Prince Baelon and her nephew are found from their journey Tarly, Rowan, and that boorish Lonmouth seemed to think they could convince the boy to wed Desmera.
The first thing her husband did was talk to Hobber and Horas about the Prince. Although they were both surprised that their father would ask them about someone they considered lesser, their witless sons reaffirmed their hatred for the Prince, stating that he was merely lucky at Oldtown and again in Kings Landing and that surely he had fled like a coward after being discarded by their Uncle Mace, returning his place to the dregs.
However, Mina was sure that her children's resentment was due to the fact that Margaery, much like Desmera, was enamoured with the Prince, and her children had always competed with each other to be not only the Lord of Arbor but likewise become Margaery's husband although she always ignored them… Unlike the Prince.
After defining their terrible relationship with the Prince, they both smiled stupidly... While she and her husband suppressed the desire to strike them but it would do little, so they sent the confused boys to their rooms lest her husband fly into a rage.
It was clear that neither Hobber nor Horas were loved by the Prince, so the only chance they would have would fall to Desmera, who, if Mina's memory did not fail her, the Prince always treated with courtesy, even paying her compliments when wanted.
Although his daughter was no longer a child, she was a woman, beautiful and rich... Whose family was one of the most powerful and influential in the 7 Kingdoms, even during the time of Aegon V, one of his children was betrothed to her mother, although he then annulled the engagement preferring the company of his squire.
But if the Prince returns to Westeros unmarried, Mina will make sure her daughter's childhood dreams come true... Her niece Margaery had her chance; now, it's time for her daughter and her family to have theirs.
'Are you okay, Mina?' Alerie asked, taking a cup of tea after returning from the falconry, the servants had prepared tea, sweets and bards, but the words of her brother's wife brought her out of her deep thoughts.
'Yes, yes, I am sorry... I was lost in myself for a few moments,' Mina apologized, hoping that her lie was believable.
'Don't worry, you're probably tired after riding so long?' Alerie said with a sigh.
'Yes, surely that is it... But tell me, how have you been? How is Mace?' Mina asked curiously; as far as she and Paxter knew, the ordeal of being held captive by King Aegon was... Terrifying and supernatural, her poor brother had been returned to his family little more than a withered shell of the man he once was… Although thanks to Alice's loving care, life seemed to be slowly returning to him… Something that Mina thanks the gods for every night.
'It's better, much better...' Alerie said very happily.
'I'm glad, as well as that peace is returning after this horrible war caused by the damned Lions,' Mina said, taking a candy.
'Yes, although the Kingdom is full of wounds, debts, deaths... Scorched lands and...' Alerie said, holding back tears, and Mina took her hands.
'They will return… Both of them, have faith, Alerie!' Mina said as Alerie looked at her in surprise.
'How do you know?' Alerie.
'A boy shall always return to the home that gave him so much... That boy was your son. Now he and my nephew are lost... I can't imagine what you must be suffering,' Mina said compassionately, waiting for Alerie to speak of the boy.
'Thank you, Mina, thank you very much… You are one of the few who understand that Jon is as much a son to me as Loras; I want them both back, safe and sound at home, in Highgarden … That is what I pray for now,' Alerie said wistfully.
'But he is a young man from the North; won't he want to return to Winterfell with his brothers?' Mina asked, and Alerie snorted disdainfully.
'I doubt it, now that miserable cunt Catelyn Stark rules there as regent for her son Rickon, that woman will probably send him to the Wall as soon as Jon sets foot there well if she wishes to try, I'm certain Garland can siege Riverrun for recompense stupid trout,' Alerie growled angrily.
'She truly loves him as her own,' Mina thought, amazed at the disdain Alerie held for Catelyn Stark without knowing the woman.
'So you and Mace will offer him some small stronghold here in The Reach if he and Loras return?' Mina asked, suppressing the urge to chuckle at the idea of a Lord offering a small bastion to a Targaryen Prince.
'Yes, we had decided shortly before the war began… But your mother,' Alerie said bitterly.
'She forced them to exile him from the Reach, and Loras followed him .. ' Mina said, finishing her sentence, before taking another sweet from the tray.
'Yes, Willas and I would have liked to lock Jon in Highgarden to protect him from the Lannisters after his father's execution... But my good mother ruined that plan,' Alerie said cruelly.
'I'm surprised my mother was so threatened… Or that you cared so much about him,' Mina said, choosing her words carefully.
'I know, sometimes I don't think so either; when my husband brought him from the North, I didn't even want to see him, I thought a bastard would dirty our halls, and I would have preferred Lord Eddard to send us his heir and perhaps in time request a betrothal to Margaery. But after months of watching him struggle to prove his worth, my disdain turned to pity to learn that the boy didn't even know who his mother was, and soon pity turned to love,' Alerie said wistfully, gazing out across the harbour.
'motherly love?' Mina asked, bewildered, and Alerie laughed.
'Yes, although that merely happened after Loras and Jon became wonderful friends... By then, it had been a little over a year since Jon came to live in Highgarden,' Alerie said, smiling.
'He must be an exceptional young man...' Mina said, taking note of everything.
'Yes, it is… I think you know that Jon is a great bard and warrior …' Alerie said, arching one of her delicate eyebrows, and Mina soughed.
'Yes, I know, it's a shame his father didn't legitimize him; he would be a good match for any Lady', Mina said, observing Alerie's countenance.
'Yes, indeed… If he wasn't a bastard… Jon would be treated with the respect he deserves… He may be baseborn, but that boy was far more Lordly than any man of purest blood I've seen,' Alerie sighed.
'Oh, my dear sister, if only you knew who your adopted son really is. I'm sorry, Alerie, I really am, but I'm my mother's daughter, and while I care for you deeply, a mother must do what she can for her own children.' Mina thought ruefully.