Daenylis was gracefully led by Aegon to the center of the ballroom.
The other girls drifted casually around the edges of the dance floor, chatting in twos and threes. They buzzed with gossip about Aegon, the new rising star of House Targaryen, and occasionally cast curious glances at the couple swaying slowly to the music.
At the center of the floor, Aegon wrapped an arm around the girl's slender, supple waist and danced a traditional Valyrian waltz.
"I knew you'd pick me."
Daenylis leaned into Aegon, her body pressed closely against his. Tilting her head up, she gave him a sultry, teasing look.
Aegon chuckled. "You were that confident?"
"Aren't all men the same? See a pretty woman and want to make her theirs. And who told me to be the prettiest of all my sisters?" Her cheeks flushed slightly as she placed both hands gently on his chest, keeping him from taking further liberties.
Caught off guard, Aegon let out an awkward laugh and quickly changed the subject.
"Who's your father?"
"I'm Lord Aenar's bastard daughter. Does that bother you? I won't force you." Daenylis's lips curled into a faint smile, revealing two charming dimples. Her vivid violet eyes locked with Aegon's as her slender finger lazily traced circles on his chest.
Aegon was tickled by her flirtatious air and thought to himself, This girl really knows how to handle men—every gesture oozes allure.
If it weren't for the blush spreading across her face, he might have assumed she was a seasoned flirt.
Given how seriously Aenar took this marriage alliance, Aegon was certain she was still a maiden. After all, he was choosing the future matriarch of his house—Aenar wouldn't dare insult him with someone secondhand. If Aegon felt deceived and became resentful, it would do the Targaryens no good.
Daenylis had four talents. Though all of them were E-rank, that was still more than anyone Aegon had met. Two were even related to breeding—definitely a girl worth marrying.
"You win. I choose you."
"I want to be the matriarch." Daenylis pressed her chest softly against him, looking up at Aegon with longing eyes.
Aegon smiled but didn't agree outright. "Let's see how you perform."
He caught the hand that had been playing on his chest, stopped dancing, and led her over to the steward, Farlen, to announce his decision.
Farlen nodded with a warm smile, clearly pleased.
Now it was time for Aegon to choose his second wife.
The first time, he'd focused on beauty and figure. This time, he decided to pay close attention to talent data.
He calmly picked up a bottle of wine and made his way around the room, offering a toast to each girl. During the introductions, Aegon would casually brush against them, discreetly gathering their attribute information.
Among the twelve remaining girls, the one with the most outstanding stats was a young girl named Illya.
And she was a maiden in the truest sense—Illya hadn't even turned ten yet.
[Illya Targaryen:
Attribute Values (still developing): Politics: 21; Strategy: 34; Military Strategy: 15; Mental Strength: 89; Vitality: 33.
Talents:
[D-rank – Greenhand Bloodline – Maiden: +50% natural affinity, +150% fertility, 10% chance to awaken as a Skinchanger each year; +5% to awakening chance per year.]
[D-rank – Chaste: +5 mental strength for remaining pure before marriage; +10 mental strength for loyalty to spouse after marriage.]
[True Dragonblood – Mixed Lineage: Charisma +0.5, Fire Resistance increased to 10%, Mental Resistance -15%; 5% chance to tame a dragon.]
Skills: …]
Aegon smiled as he gently clinked his glass with Illya's.
Her ash-gray hair hinted that her mother likely wasn't of Valyrian descent. The Greenhand Bloodline talent probably came from Garth, the demigod of the Reach in Westeros.
At that moment, Illya was clutching a large horn cup in both hands, her small face half-buried in it. But her wide eyes kept sneaking peeks at Aegon.
Aegon stood in front of her, unmoving for quite some time.
"Lord Aegon, don't you like me?" Illya tilted her head slightly and asked softly, her voice clear and sweet.
Aegon shook his head. "It's not that I don't like you—you're just too young."
"I'm only a little short, not young at all." Illya puffed out her round, full chest with feigned innocence, the ruffled fabric bouncing with the movement. The display was adorably bold.
Aegon couldn't help but chuckle. He reached out and gently ruffled her hair. "You're all such little schemers. Come with me."
After informing Farlen of his decision, the brief dance came to an end.
Aegon was fairly satisfied with the event. Being surrounded by beautiful maidens ripe for the picking left him feeling more than a little pleased. But it was only possible to choose like this because the legitimate daughters of House Targaryen had been excluded. Otherwise, no matter how favored he was, there was no way Daenys would have been sent to accompany him for such a selection.
...
That evening, Aegon took a leisurely stroll around the castle with the two girls.
They spent some time learning about each other.
Daenylis's mother had been Lord Aenar's paramour. Thanks to her striking looks, Daenylis had enjoyed his favor since childhood and lived a relatively privileged life. Illya's mother, on the other hand, had been a slave who had since passed away, and her father was Aenar's brother—a dragon tamer.
After escorting the girls back to their respective quarters, Aegon was informed by the steward Farlen that Lord Aenar was waiting for him in the study to discuss the marriage.
Aenar seemed especially fond of black tea. When Aegon entered the study, a steaming cup had already been poured for him. Without ceremony, he picked it up and took a long sip, letting the warmth drive out the remnants of wine from his system.
Aenar looked up from the long ledger in his hands and turned to Aegon.
"I'll hold the wedding once you're back from taming dragons. How does that sound?"
"The sooner, the better."
Aegon topped off Aenar's teacup before pouring one for himself.
"How soon? Tomorrow?" Aenar asked, surprised.
"Tomorrow works." Aegon nodded seriously. "I don't know what dangers I might face while taming dragons. I want to leave behind an heir first."
Aenar lowered his head slightly in thought for a moment. "Very well. If you're that eager, I'll arrange a simple ceremony for you tomorrow."
"Thank you, Lord. I appreciate your efforts," Aegon replied sincerely.
"Don't be so pessimistic. The Dragon Taming Tournament isn't as terrifying as you think," Aenar said in a calming tone.
"One more thing—the dragon-headed paddleboats from your guild must be fully prepared. With less than half a month before the Dragon Taming Tournament, we need to load the family's supplies onto the ships. While the tournament draws the attention of every Dragonlord house, our family will use the distraction to quietly smuggle critical goods out of the Valyrian Peninsula." Aenar laid out the Targaryens' migration plan clearly.
"We're leaving this soon?"
"Some members of the council have already proposed a motion to impeach House Targaryen. If we delay much longer, we may not even get the chance to leave." Aenar sighed and took a slow sip of his tea.
Aegon could clearly hear the weight Aenar was carrying.
"I understand. All the men and ships of the Dragon's Treasure are at House Targaryen's command," he answered.
Aenar nodded, satisfied.
...
Early the next morning, in the marketplace of Targaryen Hill, several old women were distributing black bread to the poor.
Though House Targaryen hadn't made any formal announcements, the charitable grain handouts and the circus festivities in nearby towns made it clear to the public: a celebration was underway.
The main hall of the Targaryen stronghold had been meticulously decorated.
Festive black and red drapes hung high above, embroidered with lifelike images of dragons soaring through clouds, lending the space an air of both opulence and grandeur.
...
Night fell.
Inside the hall, rows of neatly arranged tables and chairs were draped in fine silk and brocade. Gold and silver tableware sparkled under the candlelight, radiating the lavishness expected of a Dragonlord house.
Though the guest list for Aegon's wedding wasn't large, all attendees belonged to the ruling circle of House Targaryen.
Gaemon, serving as Aegon's best man, stood with him outside the hall to welcome the guests.
It was during this time that Aegon met two of House Targaryen's most important vassals for the first time—House Velaryon and House Celtigar.
The heads of both houses looked at Aegon with evident curiosity, though their demeanor toward their future ally was cordial enough.
The wedding officially began.
Aenar and Illya's father escorted the two brides from the left side of the hall to Aegon's side.
Daenylis wore a snow-white gown of lace and velvet. The dress clung tightly to her figure, accentuating her ample curves, while the large, birdcage-like hoop skirt and sweeping train swayed gently as she walked.
Illya was dressed in a luxurious pale blue gown with intricate openwork designs. The delicate silk clung to her smooth, porcelain-like skin, making her look tender and lovely.
The only incongruity was her petite frame. Standing beside the tall, statuesque Daenylis, Illya looked more like a flower girl than a bride.
Aegon placed wedding rings on the fingers of both his brides.
With the ceremony complete, a lively and cheerful dance was inevitable.
Wearing a smile, Aegon led his two wives onto the dance floor for the first dance of their new marriage.
After that, the trio moved through the hall, toasting family members from both sides. With Gaemon's introductions, Aegon became acquainted with many key figures within House Targaryen.
Once he had celebrated with the guests for a time, Aegon politely excused himself. The bustling dance floor wasn't his destination tonight—it was the eagerly awaited bridal chamber.
...
When he pushed open the door to the newly prepared bedroom, the sight before him made him stop in his tracks.
Both brides had already shed their voluminous Valyrian gowns, now dressed in sheer, gauzy robes that left little to the imagination. The translucent fabric clung to their bodies like a second skin, making their glowing flesh appear to shimmer beneath.
As they stepped forward to gently help him undress, Aegon managed to keep his composure.
He quietly approached Illya, gently lifted her in his arms, and placed her on a table, speaking softly, "You're not ready yet. You're still too young. Let's wait a couple of years."
"Why can't I? What part of me is too young?" Illya glared at him, puffing her cheeks in frustration.
Daenylis stifled a laugh behind her hand. "Don't argue. You're not ready in any way."
She slowly undid the sash of her gauzy robe. The fabric floated to the ground, boldly revealing her flawless figure. Her full chest and sculpted curves radiated a seductive allure.
Tears welled up in Illya's eyes as she looked at Aegon, her voice laced with grievance. "You really don't want me?"
Seeing her pitiful expression, Aegon felt a surge of tenderness and gently reassured her, "You're still young. There's no rush."
After some coaxing, he finally settled the tearful Illya in a side chamber.
Then, Aegon returned to face Daenylis, calm and composed—and together, they began their new "journey."
[Ding~]
A notification flashed through Aegon's mind, but he was far too busy charging into battle to bother with a game prompt.