Poor Aerion Targaryen, they would say. Forever bound to a father that could not, in good conscience, control himself. Even Otto Hightower's twenty men were not fast enough to end this conflict on Dragonstone by the King's command.
Not against dragons.
Even with the Blood Wyrm by the entrance of Dragonstone, Syrax flew to the pathway landing behind the Lord Hand and his men and Silverwing landing in between Caraxes and his father.
Aeroin had never been so pissed with his father until now. Then again, no child should ever parent their father, let alone clean up their messes.
He didn't care if the king would scold him later on, even as he watched Rhaenyra carefully as she approached his father in hopes to regain the dragon egg that was meant for the late prince.
"Ser Christon, please escort the Princess to safety," Ser Otto Hightower tried to reason as Aerion himself dismounted his blue dragon and walked pass the gold cloaks who were paving way for their prince's son.
"Take care, my Lords," the Princess bid as she moved forward, "Aerion and Syrax are rather protective of me."
Daemon didn't need to turn his head to know that his own son was standing behind him, with the very sword he gifted Aerion on his thirteenth nameday strapped around his waist. It reminded the Rogue Prince of himself when he was his own son's age, hovering around his older brother most especially when he was named heir.
Like a dragon protecting his treasure.
"My father named me Princess of Dragonstone. This is my castle you're living in, uncle." Rhaenyra spoke in a language few of them could understand, eye to eye, feeling his son's watchful, perhaps even furious gaze staring at the back of his head.
"Not until you come of age."
"You have angered your king."
"I don't see why. This is a day of celebration. I am to be wed."
"You already have a wife and a son." Rhaenyra argued Aerion's case. For even she couldn't understand why her uncle is being so difficult when he already has a Targaryen son.
"Not of my choosing."
The princess was already displeased as she tilted her head. She didn't need to look at Aerion's direction to know that by this time, he already had his hand over the grip of his sword ready to draw it if need be.
All she needed to do was say the words. "And this required you to steal my brother's egg?"
"You shared your cradle with a dragon when you were born," Daemon argued, "I want the same for my child."
"Is this why you're being so difficult, father?" Aerion finally spoke. But Daemon did not turn his head. He couldn't. He didn't want such a disappointing stare to come from his own son. "Because I didn't hatch mine in the cradle?"
"I had nothing," Daemon finally turned to look at his son. Unable to hide his distaste for the bronze bitch who turned his son against him. Things would have been different if Daemon took Aerion to King's Landing when he was a babe, but Rhea just had to fight tooth and nail for their boy.
To Daemon, Aerion was no dragon no matter how much he tried to teach him. "You are always your mother's son. You will always be Rhea Royce's son."
Aerion didn't show an ounce of emotion in his eyes, as if he had already known his entire life, he is a disappointment to his father. No matter what achievements he tried to gain on his own, he will never be the son that Daemon Targaryen had wanted. All because he was more bronze king than dragon.
"I am right here, Uncle," Rhaenyra dared, even she knew after what has been said, there was no repairing this relationship between father and son. Not anymore. "The object of your ire, the reason you were disinherited. If you wish to be restored as heir, you need to kill me… and your son."
"Go on, father," Aerion taunted from behind, "let us be done with all this bother."
Silverwing and Caraxes snarled at each other like the magnificent beasts that they are. Sensing the animosity between their connected riders, they seemed to be waiting for an order to ignite the battle's initial flame, if one existed at all.
Daemon at this point just threw the egg towards Rhaenyra and walked past his son without a second glance.
Aerion's gaze met Rhaenyra's as he finally went forward, grabbing her free hand and planting a gentle kiss. She clasped his hand back, urging him not to be concerned by his father's remarks.
Reassuring him that he was as much Targaryen as she was with fire and blood.
The evening wasn't so kind to Aerion. Rhaenyra noticed that he had been avoiding her and the king since their return to the Red Keep. The Dragonkeepers have said that Silverwing had grown restless to no avail.
You are always your mother's son. You will always be your mother's son. Were the words constantly running through his head until the king finally called for him.
"Your Grace," he greeted without so much as gazing into his eyes.
"You have disobeyed me, Aerion." Viserys sighed, "you had fled King's Landing without word and had acted without the crown's leave. Not only that, but you had also put your princess in danger as she chased after you before you could do anything—"
"Stupid," Aerion agreed in a whisper, "I know. And I ask for your forgiveness, Your Grace for that was not my intention."
Viserys examined the boy closely as he approached. All the calmness that Viserys had often praised Aerion for was gone. Whatever happened to Dragonstone, all he saw was a terrified boy in need of comfort. Perhaps the news of his father adopting a second wife in the hopes of having another son had caused him distress, especially since Aerion did not hatch from the cradle.
But Aerion, not sensing his uncle's worry continued, "the Princess has successfully retrieved the egg without bloodshed. A feat that Ser Otto cannot achieve with my father's constant taunts—"
"What did he say to you, my boy?" Viserys knitted his brows together as he placed his hands on the lad's shoulders.
Aerion hesitated. He was merely a child still, after all. Only fourteen.
"He… has implied…" he mumbled, "that I will always be my mother's son and never his."
"I have often tried to look out for my brother, but that does not mean I can understand him or his actions. What I do know is that no matter what he may mean or imply, but I will tell you this, you are our blood," Viserys spoke as he placed both hands on the lad's cheeks. Making Aerion understand his sincerity, "you are family… and that shall never change."
Despite the comfort in his uncle's words, Aerion's heart still felt heavy.
He deliberately sought to distance himself from his men, court, and even Rhaenyra during the ensuing moons, which did not bode well for him.
Alfered had been working nonstop for this boy, bringing him as many meals as the king consumes (Viserys insisted) and persistently attempting to get him to eat (something he has repeatedly failed to do).
"My Prince, I must strongly insist that you eat properly…"
"And I have told you never to call me that…" Aerion reminded Alfered without even looking up from his book.
Aerion's solar is the testament to Alfered's sanity and possibly even survival at this rate. Where Prince Daemon constantly ignores the Royce men in his son's service, they feared Lady Rhea's letters. Even the Seven Gods cannot spare Alfered Shett from Lady Rhea Royce's fury if she discovers that her son was not eating healthily, even though a few bites here and there were deemed successful.
"And I recall informing you that I wish my neck to remain attached on my neck until I'm old and died in my sleep."
"My lady mother will do you no harm here in the capital, Alfered, you scare yourself."
"Forgive me, my Lord, but have you met your mother?" Aerion couldn't help but chuckle at his companion's response to the tone of familiarity, which he understood all too well.
He didn't even know what Alfered and his men were saying at this time because his mother was so calm and lovely. However, what can be expected from the only child of Rhea Royce? In their miserable marriage, Daemon Targaryen has only given her one blessing.
"My mother is my mother, what is she going to do? March to King's Landing demand I eat my cheese before bed?" Gods know that she would ride day and night for her son if something were to happen to him. Perhaps even knock him out in the head and drag the princeling home to Runestone even.
As the saying goes, in the Vale, men are said to fuck sheep instead of women. For those in other Kingdoms cannot fathom that the Gods always smile upon their brave women – the women who are as brave as their men.
Incredible, fearless, a shieldmaiden blessed by the Gods – that's what they say about the Lady Rhea Royce.
"Please, do not taunt the Gods, my Prince—"
"You exaggerate, Alfered." Aerion dismissed with a wave of his hand before returning to his book.
"It will be on your conscience if my head ends up on a spike by nightfall, my Lord. So please, just eat the food – even if it's just the bloody grape." The steward instantly tensed at the sound of the servant reporting the princess entering Aerion's solar.
Aerion looked up to hear Alfered greet Rhaenyra, making him stand from his seat, book in hand as he bowed to greet her.
Rhaenyra looked at the steward, her missing cousin, and the plate of food before him. She frowned at the sight of him. "You have been avoiding us, valonqar."
"I haven't been avoiding anyone, I just want isolation," Aerion answered in High Valyrian, "you worry too much."
"And you worry too little about yourself," the princess huffed as she marched straight to his desk and sitting upon the edge of it. Taking the plate of food to rest on her lap, with a grape between her fingers as she stubbornly pressed it against his lips. "Eat. The dragons are better fed than you."
Aerion raised his brow. "The dragons fly and breathe fire, I do not."
Rhaenyra frowned, pressing it further into his lips until he finally chewed and swallowed the damn thing. But her fingers returned with another grape.
"Kisās." She once again commanded. And again, he allowed it to enter his mouth. But the princess' fingers did not rest as she took a strawberry by the stem, holding it near his mouth yet again. Her eyes drifted from his own irises, almost like darkened amethysts, to the parting lips.
Aerion barely parted his lips, his tongue slowly grabbing the fruit's scarlet skin before encircling it. As his teeth sliced deeper into the fruit's skin until it claimed its prize, Rhaenyra's fingertips felt the little tug. Swallowing it after chewing it down.
At that moment, Alfered quickly realized that the prince was eating and perhaps… it was best that he leaves the pair to finish the meal on their own.