297 AC Gates of the Moon
Alyn the Acolyte and Artys went over the numbers for the fish farms which were promising but the growth was not as fast as Artys would have liked . "Alyn i hear of these vast mushroom farms in Lorath, Is there a way we can make such here in the Vale". Alyn thought for a moment "i could attempt my lord mushroom are not hard to grow but there are scarce few Lorathi who make it here to The Vale ". "I shall set aside gold and send for people in Braavos, Lorathi are known to trade there". The long Summer and prolonged peace had increased the population of the Vale but this would become a catastrophe should a long winter come. Artys needed to find a way for his people to meet their calorific needs .
The glass production facilities were being set up and would begin production in another two moons. Artys had sent letters across the Vale to all noble lords to begin building glass houses near their castles at first and then expand them to smaller towns and villages. It would be years before they became widespread but it was a promising start. "My Lord as for expanding Arrynton into a city we have much work to do" the Acolyte started . "Have the Bravosi Canal makers arrive yet" Artys asked "No my lord but we are expecting them this week" Alyn said . " Turn your attention to the sewers Alyn i want them to be perfect and the sewage flowing into the Moon water and build it with the fact the city would grow in the future , The walls for the city can wait for the time being palisades will suffice. Expand the river port we will have a lot of building material coming in , The roads as well need expanding I will return after the expedition is over" .
"As you command my lord" Alyn bowed and left the solar. Artys was planning on taking the Burned men to seek out the other mountain clans on a mission to seek and destroy. He had Armed The Burned Men with with castle forged steel , Spears and axes , swords and shields along with red gambesons ,helms and chain mail. Armed armored and on their garrons they seemed formidable but their lack of discipline and quarrelsome nature worried him . " Stubborn as ever arent you lad " the gruff voice of the Black fish came from behind. Artys simply smiled " Have no fear uncle i will be back , when winter comes clans will become desperate and start raiding for food. with snow blocking have the mountain passes the knights can do little to protect the small folk ." Savages they may be nuncle , they have their own sort honor and are fiercely loyal " .
"I have named you Castellan in my Absence" Artys finished. " I should come with you lad" Ser Brynden protested. " I need you hear nuncle there few i would trust to keep my princess safe, Besides i am taking five knights and twenty rangers with me who know the mountains like the back of their hands. The mountain clans would most like flee than give battle" . Horus swooped from the sky and fluttered his way on top Artys shoulder. Ser Brynden gave him a grim nod and left.
Myrcella's POV
The light came softly through the thin, arched window — pale and cold, like the Vale itself.
Myrcella blinked awake to the soundless hush of snow somewhere beyond the glass. The Eyrie's air was crisp even in the height of summer , the hearth embers barely glowing now, but she was warm beneath the heavy furs. Warmer still between the sleeping bodies of her companions.
Marei lay on her right, arm draped carelessly across Myrcella's waist, her breathing slow and steady. Alysanne curled behind her, legs tangled gently with hers, her honey blonde hair splayed across the pillow they shared. Myrcella didn't move — not yet. It was very comforting being held like this. she smiled.
Marei's skin was always warm. Alysanne sometimes whispered in her sleep. She'd grown fond of both of them. Artys…
She stared at the stone ceiling and let her thoughts wander.
He hadn't been in their bed when she woke, but that wasn't new. He rarely slept , and often rose before dawn. He doesn't need sleep the way others do, she'd told herself more than once, thinking it a warrior's habit, the mark of someone too tightly wound for peace. It never occurred to her how little she knew of what he did at night — writing letters, reading reports, whispering with Ser Steffon or that acolyte of his. Always planning something.
She sighed.
She loved him. She was certain of that now it was no longer a maiden fantasy she was women wedded and bedded now . It came quietly, after the wedding, in the way he held her hand in public, in the way he'd looked at her after the bedding — as if he were seeing her, not just a political prize.
But she also knew what their marriage had begun as a way to strengthen the alliance with the Vale even after the passing of Jon Arryn.
A pact.
A crown's convenience. Her golden hair. His name. A pretty braid of power that bound House Arryn to the Iron Throne. A good match, even her mother had said that much And the sooner you get with child, the safer you'll be.
She flushed at the thought.
Not yet, she told herself. Not until winter passed. Artys had agreed.
Still, there were doubts she couldn't shake — like the way Lady Melisandre looked at him, or how Vaera bowed too deeply. Myrcella had heard things. Hints. But Artys had dismissed them all with that silver smile of his, that voice that made her heart trip over itself.
"You're the only one who matters." That's what he'd told her. Last night. And she'd believed it.
She believed it still.
But I won't suffer any bastards, she thought, not without heat.
She turned her head, brushing her cheek against Alysanne's hair, listening to her breathe. She ran her hand across Alysanne's pretty face and down her silk shift, feeling how soft and warm her skin was. She ran her thumb over her nipple and gave her ripe breasts a squeeze. Alysanne mumbled softly, still not waking despite her ministrations. For all the politics, he was hers. She was lady of the Vale in all but name. The Eyrie was hers to learn, her people to charm. She would give him a legacy, and she would not be cast aside.
She heard the door open. "Artys," she heard herself say. Artys stood there, armed and armored, save for a helm, like a knight from a bard's tale. "My princess is lovely as the dawn," he said with a disarming grin.
"Your flattery will not save you from my wrath, Ser," she said, fighting to keep her face stern. She rose from the furs and crawled towards the foot of the bed, flinging her arms around his broad shoulders. Artys buried his face in her golden curls and put a gloved hand on the small of her back. "I will be back in a moon or two. I can hardly stay away from my bride."
Myrcella was not going to let him off so easily. "Will those red whores be accompanying you?" she asked.
Artys let out a tired sigh. "Melisandre brought the Burned Men to my side. Now we have a chance to bring the rest of the mountain clans to our fold or crush them. No more raids on small folk. Think of all the people who would be saved and the merchants who can ply the roads without fear."
He gently lifted her chin and placed a kiss on her forehead. "I do not fault you for your jealousy, but I do ask for your understanding, Cella."
"Melisandre will leave with me, along with the Burned Men and my knights. Varea will stay at the gates of the moon. I have commanded her to teach her arts to the midwife and hedge maesters. It would please me if you talked to her with open heart".
"I am lord of the Vale, and you are its lady. We must live and rule for them," he said.
Myrcella wanted to pout but decided it would just make her sound petty and childlike. It was hard to do; Artys was so lordlike, despite being scarcely two years older. Myrcella took the ribbon from the dressing mirror and tied it around his armor. "Come back to me, Ser," she said, trying not to sound weak.
He hugged her firmly but gently. Myrcella kissed his neck and rubbed her hands on breechs , she could feel him stiffen , she whispered in his ear "your could join us its nice and warm " she pulled the furs asided to reveal the near naked bodies of Marei and Alyssane. "Tempting my love , But knights await, I will claim my prize when i return victorious". He kissed her fiercely and left .
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Artys left the Eyrie at dawn and had reached the Gates of the Moon, where a small army awaited him. Melisandre was joining them, unarmed and unarmored, with her mysterious smile on her face. "My lord," she said in her melodic voice. "Stay close to me, my lady. War is no place for women like you."
"Lord of Light will protect me, my lord, as He will you," Melisandre replied.
"I have my armor for that, and so should you. But I am not going to insist. You say you saw the painted dogs camped three days from Lake Stone Dew?"
"It is what the Lord of Light intends for me to see. He is never wrong, but I could err, never Him though."
"Very well, let's go. Ser Shaddrich, with me. Ser Steffon, protect the Lady Melisandre. Timmet, lead the way."
So the expedition began.