On the second floor, on the balcony—
Rhaenyra leaned against the railing, watching the sparring match in the back garden.
"Rhaegar still loves to play," she remarked.
"He's courageous and skilled," Janyce commented objectively beside her.
Rhaenyra glanced sideways and caught the gleam in Janyce's eyes. Smiling, she asked, "Do you plan to keep spending all your time with Janceph?"
"We're friends—we comfort each other," Janyce replied in a detached tone.
Then, after a brief pause, she asked, "Are you planning to follow House Targaryen's traditions?"
Rhaenyra understood her meaning and smiled. "Rhaegar will fight for it."
"Then I wish you the best," Janyce said, lowering her gaze and lifting her wine glass.
Rhaenyra couldn't shake the feeling that her words lacked sincerity.
She studied Janyce's expression carefully, trying to discern something beneath the surface.
Janyce turned her head, her gaze lingering on Rhaegar's flowing silver hair, her eyes full of admiration and envy.
"Janyce," Rhaenyra called.
Janyce looked over.
"Have you ever farmed?"
"That's a peasant's work," Janyce replied.
Rhaenyra spoke with intention. "Indeed. I've never farmed either, but I've watched farmers in the Crownlands toil in their fields."
Janyce frowned in confusion.
Rhaenyra continued, her tone steady. "In spring, farmers plant their seeds, nurture them, water them, and till the soil. Come autumn, they reap the harvest."
Under Janyce's increasingly bewildered gaze, Rhaenyra's expression turned serious.
"From the moment Rhaegar was born, I have been by his side. Every moment of his life, I have been there."
"And now, he has grown. It's time for me to reap my harvest."
She picked up the wine glass from the table and clinked it against Janyce's.
A crisp chime echoed. Rhaenyra downed her wine in one motion, grabbed Rhaegar's cloak, and strode away.
She had suddenly realized that the only friend she had left harbored impure intentions.
A warning bell rang in her mind.
—
A breeze stirred her hair, snapping Janyce out of her thoughts.
Her dazed expression vanished, replaced by an air of haughty confidence.
Beyond the beaded curtains, Rhaenyra was gone. Janyce lifted her gaze to the brilliant blue sky, the blazing sun hanging high above.
Spring had passed, and the air carried the dry heat of summer. She murmured to herself, **"Rhaenyra, it's summer now."**
—
In the back garden, at the sparring grounds—
No one dared to challenge Rhaegar any longer, and an uneasy silence settled over the field.
Ser Jelor turned to Lady Rhaea, but his newlywed wife was lost in thought, trapped in her memories.
After some hesitation, Jelor sighed—he would have to step in himself.
"Prince, your swordsmanship is unparalleled. May I have the honor of a duel?"
Jelor drew his sword and stepped onto the grass, facing Rhaegar.
Rhaegar smiled at the challenge. "Jelor, you're a groom today, and yet you still want to fight?"
"It's a rare chance to witness your swordsmanship. I want to test myself."
Jelor gripped his sword with both hands, his eyes filled with determination.
He truly wanted to measure the prince's strength—just as he had once wanted to test Daemon's.
"Very well, let's begin," Rhaegar agreed, indulging Jelor's persistence. Besides, the duel was nearing its natural end; he might as well conclude it properly.
Jelor lunged forward, his sword swings carrying the untamed ferocity unique to the knights of the Vale.
*Clang!*
The dragon-claw sword rose to meet the attack. Their blades clashed, sparks scattering in the air.
Rhaegar pivoted, sliding his sword along the edge of Jelor's toward the hilt.
*Clang!*
Having observed the prince's swift strikes in earlier bouts, Jelor swiftly withdrew his blade and slashed downward again.
His movements were quick, his body brimming with youthful strength, and his two-handed sword let out a sharp hum as it cut through the air.
Rhaegar stepped back twice, deliberately exposing a weak spot before raising his sword to block the heavy blow.
Spotting an opening in the prince's chest, Jelor's eyes lit up. He pressed down with his sword and simultaneously lifted his leg to kick.
But the moment his right leg rose, he saw Rhaegar's lips curve into a triumphant smirk.
**"I've been tricked."**
Jelor's heart sank as he realized the trap—too late.
Rhaegar shifted his stance, pivoting sideways. In an instant, Jelor's outstretched sword and raised leg were completely exposed.
Without hesitation, Dragonclaw gleamed with a cold light as it struck down with a single slash.
*Clang!*
Dragonclaw clashed against the opponent's longsword, the two blades meeting head-on.
Valyrian steel proved superior—the opponent's greatsword snapped in response.
With a sorrowful cry, half of the broken sword flew through the air, landing on the grass.
It felt as if everyone's hearts trembled along with the shattered blade.
Jellot gripped the broken sword, cold sweat dripping from his forehead.
That single strike had just cut through his longsword.
On the battlefield, it would have been his leg.
Looking at Rhaegar, who offered an apologetic smile, Jellot's lips twitched into a grimace more painful than a cry.
The defeat was swift and decisive.
"Lord Jellot, thank you for the match."
Rhaegar sheathed Dragonclaw and extended a hand.
"Your swordsmanship is truly impressive!"
Jellot tossed aside the broken blade and firmly grasped the prince's hand.
Glancing around at the stunned guests, he suddenly burst into laughter, raising both their hands high as he declared in a booming voice, "Lords and ladies, with a prince like this, do you yield!?"
Silence.
The Vale lords glanced at one another, their expressions varied.
The atmosphere grew momentarily tense as Rhaegar narrowed his eyes, quietly observing.
Then—
"Seven hells! That was some damn fast swordplay! Anyone who refuses to yield, I'll be the first to deal with them!"
A voice rang out from the crowd, followed by laughter.
In the next second—
The entire gathering erupted into cheers, pounding their chests, striking the hilts of their swords, and shouting in chaotic unison:
"Long live House Targaryen! Long live the Crown Prince!..."
Rhaegar gripped Dragonclaw in one hand and raised the other high above his head.
The once-calm expression on his face melted like ice, replaced by the brilliance of fire as he laughed and joined in.
The people of the Vale followed tradition—they respected strength.
Only the Northmen of the frozen lands shared this sentiment.
Rhaegar's swordsmanship had earned their admiration, their praise, and even their loyalty.
With Jellot smoothing things over, the duel came to a close.
The guests surrounded Rhaegar, singing loudly as they made their way back to the castle, eager to celebrate the spectacular match with wine.
…
**Nightfall.**
Rhaegar lay in Rhaenyra's embrace, holding a slip of parchment in his hand.
"Jeyne is leaving tomorrow. Should we go with her?"
Rhaenyra stroked his hair.
"Ser Elric wrote to me. The mountain clans have been moving unpredictably in the Moon Mountains."
Enjoying the softness of her touch, Rhaegar closed his eyes and said, "The battle at Longbow Hall is also at a standstill. Yobert is gravely injured, and the mountain clans may be planning something big."
"You think they'll launch a large-scale attack?"
Rhaenyra asked softly.
"Not sure. Let's escort Jeyne back to the Eyrie first. If the mountain clans dare to gather in numbers, the Devourer will burn them all."
Rhaegar casually tossed the parchment aside, unconcerned.
The mountain clans were nothing more than wildlings—troublesome in small bands, but weak in large groups.
"That works. Elric mentioned in his letter that he's already marched past the Bloody Gate to meet us."
Rhaenyra recalled the message.
Allies from Gulltown had already been secured—this journey to the Vale was nearly complete.
King's Landing and the Stepstones still awaited their return.
"Go to sleep, and stop moving your hands!"
She swatted Rhaegar's head and grabbed his wandering hand.
"Hmm~"
Rhaegar grumbled, burrowing his face deeper into the softness.
Rhaenyra let out a helpless laugh, wrapping her arms around his neck and rubbing against him.
"Greedy little pig, never satisfied!"
(End of Chapter)