Aerion
Maekar Targaryen turned his back to his son.
"You'll leave. And you won't come back until I say you can."
"Father, but Aegon—" It was all Aegon's fault. He and the hedge knight. They tricked Aerion. And his uncle Baelor died because he was foolish enough to fight on the hedge knight's side. None of these were the fault of Aerion!
"I want no more excuses and lies from you," Maekar barked. "You disgust me. Get out."
"But—" Couldn't Maekar understand for once? Of all people in this world, Aerion only wanted his father to support him. To appreciate him.
Yet it was always for naught. Maekar tolerated Aerion at best, the son that was most like him in both ability and appearance. Daeron was a drunkard, Aemon was a bookworm, and Aegon was a half-peasant. Aerion was clearly the best of all of them. But no. Aerion was always unwanted.
A creep. He unnerves me. A cruel, arrogant, good-for-nothing child. Aerion, stop bullying your brothers. Dragons, dragons, dragons, this is all he has to say for himself. Oh for the Father's sake, why are you lighting up a fire? Stop what are you doing to those poor creatures! Just like Maegor. He'll grow up to be another Maegor the Cruel. Be thankful that he's not in line to the throne.
From frightened whispers between servants to his parents shouting the words to Aerion's face, those were the words Aerion heard as he grew up. He was a dragon. He was better than any of those men. Those peasants had no right to insult him, and he would fight back every time he heard them. But when it came to his parents, Aerion could only clench his jaws and take it.
It was not fair. That Dornish woman… Dyanna never paid any attention to him, she had no right to complain about his behaviour, especially when Aerion never did anything wrong. Unlike his brothers, who never acted as a dragon should. They were not worthy of the Targaryen name. So what if he played with them for a bit? They deserved it anyway.
Still, Aerion had acted as his father wanted in front of him. Be harsh but fair, he said, be proud but not arrogant. Be polite but not flattering.
Aerion did all of that, but Maekar did not trust him. He only fought for Aerion in the Trial of Seven because he did not want to lose face, not because he trusted Aerion. He had made that more than clear in their conversations.
Yet Maekar now blamed him for Uncle Baelor's death. And for the first time in his life, Aerion snapped.
"But I haven't done anything wrong! You always stand on Aegon's side!" he howled. "You're biased too, Father. You told me to be fair, but you're never fair!"
"How dare you say I'm unfair?" Maekar's coal-black face turned towards Aerion, pieces of skin and muscle dropping from his skull with every movement. "If anything, I pandered you too much, boy! You lied and cheated and tortured your brothers and I was too weak to stop you. Too trapped in my own insecurities to beat you straight. Now you'll be the death of us all."
"No, NO! I won't!" Aerion screamed. He struggled to escape his father's grasp, strong fingers that were quickly turning into white, boney skeletons. "Forgive me, Father! I won't lie again!"
"You…" Maekar's fingers tightened around Aerion's throat. "You should be the one who died."
This was the last curse Maekar would ever lay upon his son.
—
Aerion woke up, still feeling the boney fingers around his throat. He gasped and coughed, trying to steady his breath.
He was in his room, in the Blackfyre manse. Not his father's tent. Not at Ashford.
That last scene… it never happened. Aerion left Westeros that day without the bravery to protest against his father. Aerion could remember that now that he was awake. But…
He touched his neck gingerly. That felt so real.
"Aerion." Suddenly the door opened. Aerion recognised the men that walked in, the servants Daena assigned to look after him. "The Princess wants to see you."
They fed and cleaned him and chained him back up. Aerion was used to this now. Instead of screaming and struggling all the way, he would rather face this with dignity. And he knew that they reported everything he said and did back to Daena. It would not work if he appeared unwilling.
Daena reacted to all his praises and flattering just like before: smiling sweetly with her eyes sparkling. Sometimes Aerion would even forget that she was the one who tricked and trapped him. But when he proceeded to ask her to unchain him, Daena would change her demeanour completely.
"Aerion, my love," she would smirk. "I'll never be that stupid."
It was infuriating. But Aerion could not deny the truth that he enjoyed talking to her more than being trapped in this room with nothing to do. He enjoyed the smell of her hair and the sound of her voice, the blushes on her cheeks and the warmth of her fingers… even when he knew it was all an act.
And above all, it was a pleasure to watch her belly grow. It reminded him of what he planned to do to her once the child was born. He would wipe that infuriating smirk off her lips and make her scream instead.
However, Daena did not smirk today when she walked into his room. She did not even smile. She did not say a word when she sat down against him, a letter in her hands. Her expression was cold and her eyes were puffy and red.
"Daena…?" He asked tentatively, trying not to provoke her. If his hands were free he would have embraced her and gently told her to tell him of all her sorrows, that would get her to fall in love with him for sure. Or he could smash her head into pieces. Aerion was not sure which he preferred.
She raised her head and stared at him. Aerion almost gasped. This was not the face of the sweet girl she loved to pretend as, nor the smug, proud Blackfyre Princess she would sometimes act like. It was the face of the woman he saw the night she drugged him: the face of an avenger.
The face of someone who would not hesitate to kill.
"I thought you might want to know who won the war in Westeros," she said, her voice emotionless. "My brother Aenys has taken King's Landing. We have won."
They… won? The Blackfyres won?
"That's impossible!" Aerion cried out. "I'm supposed to bring you and my child back to Westeros, as a victor capturing the last Blackfyre alive to be my slave… no… I mean—"
Aerion screamed as Daena took out her dagger— the dagger that she claimed was her mother's— and held it to his neck.
"I heard you loud and clear. It's more or less what I imagined was going on in your disgusting head. Just shut up and listen to me." Aerion could not say anything when he could feel the cold, sharp metal resting on his blood vessels, ready to cut the life out of him. Daena's bloodshot eyes glared at him from a close distance. "Calla killed your father in the first battle. Burned him to death, the letter claimed."
Maekar's coal black face and his skeleton hands came back to Aerion. It could not be. It was just a dream. What did Daena say? Calla killed him? That small, freakish Blackfyre sister? This could not be true. Maekar was a large, imposing man, unmatchable with his mace.
"You lie," he blurted out.
Daena's lips twitched. "Oh, I wish so too. But the truth is cruel, as I've learned early in my life. Your father is undoubtedly dead. Do you know what happened next? Daemon died in battle, then Bloodraven killed Haegon. My brothers. Once again."
Her words barely registered in his mind. Aerion was still thinking about Maekar's last words in his dream. You should be the one who died.
Did his father really curse him from beyond the grave?
"Listen to me!" Daena shouted into his ear. The dagger slashed into his neck. Fresh, red blood dripped down his neck onto his shirt. Aerion winced from the pain, but Daena ignored him.
"It's Haegon who died! I'm not surprised that Daemon died. He's weird and he's never good with fighting. But Haegon was our father's son. He's strong and kind and charismatic and perfect. He understood me the way only a twin could. And Calla killed Bloodraven right after… how am I supposed to get my revenge then?" A lone tear dripped from her cheek and fell onto Aerion's.
The dagger did not cut deep, not enough to kill. Yet Aerion knew he was in danger. He would not die here. He could not, no matter what his father wanted. "I'm sorry, Daena," he tried to say as softly as he could, "I'll comfort you if I have my arms free… no, I don't mean to have to untie me now…how about we name our son Haegon, in honour of your brother?"
Daena's eyes slowly studied his face. For a moment there was a sinister gleam in her eyes, and Aerion was certain that she would kill him, but then she sighed and dropped her dagger.
"No, Aenys will want to use the name for his second son. It's best to take some other names in our shared ancestry." She even smirked slightly when she saw his baffled expression. "Aerion, you made the right call by mentioning our child. I can kill you now to make me feel better… but I'll regret it for the rest of my life." She put a hand on her swollen belly, tears silently dripping down her face.
"I…" Aerion felt his throat dry. The wound on his neck was still bleeding, hot and painful and itchy, but it would be foolish to complain now. What was the right thing to say? "I don't want to see you cry, Daena. You look much better when you're smiling."
Daena shook her head. "Liar. You want to see me cry and scream and beg for forgiveness for what I've done to you." She looked at him sharply, "I'm not in the mood for games. No lies today."
"..." There was no denial, no excuses she would accept. Her expression made that clear. Defeated, Aerion said, "...Yes. I want to win against you and have you beg for my forgiveness. But I…"
You lied and cheated and tortured your brothers…
Maekar's words echoed in his ears. No more, Father, Aerion thought, if that was you wanted. Because you are dead, and likely Daeron and Aemon and Aegon and Daella and Rhae too. There was no one left that he would feel jealous of, no one else mattered to him but Daena.
And she wanted to hear the truth.
"I don't want you to die or get really hurt. I just want you to feel sorry for me. To regret what you've done to me. Then we can return to what we had before we unveiled our identities. It's fun… I enjoyed being with you. For once I'm not the prince people will avoid in fear, or have them flatter me because they want something. I'm just me. Even if it's only an act… I appreciate it." Despite the pain, Aerion felt more relaxed now.
Because for once he did not lie. For once he did not have to cheat. For once he could act as he wanted, knowing that no one would blame him for his wrongdoings.
Daena furrowed her brows. "Before I met you, I've heard that you're a cruel, arrogant man who only cares for yourself. Even now, I think they're not wrong. But…" A hand reached towards him. Her face was so close. "Perhaps I'm just seeing what I want to see, but I don't think you're lying, either. How strange."
"Because I'm not." He felt the desire to hold her, stronger than ever. When her fingers lingered above his wound, he felt that there was something gentle and magical that smoothed the pain. "I want to see the birth of our child, then we will go back to Westeros together. If what you said is true then I no longer have a family. But that's fine. I don't need them. I want… I want to build a new family with you."
Daena's eyes widened. Then she chuckled. "I admire your talent for cheesy pickup lines. But yes… Now, you're my family too. I won't kill you for murders you didn't commit. I'll be the wife you like and want as long as… as long as you—"
Aerion leaned forward and silenced her with a kiss.
She pulled back a moment later, forcing out a smile that failed to mask her shock. "For all your faults, I do like how you always take the initiative whenever possible."
"Of course," Aerion smirked. Finally. Finally, he managed to win against her.
"But," her fingers stroked his face lovingly, "I still can't untie you. It's too dangerous."
Aerion felt his heart drop. "...Of course." Of course she would not trust him, even when he was being truthful. He had established himself as a malicious liar.
But he did not have to lie anymore. She would trust him. Sooner or later, she would have to.
"Sorry for hurting you." Daena smiled apologetically. "Once our child is born, I will release you from this room and we'll go back to Westeros together. It's likely that Aenys and Uncle Aegor won't want you to be around but I can convince them. You won't spend the rest of your life trapped, Aerion. That I can promise you."
"Do you want me to thank you?" Aerion asked wryly. "I can do that, but I don't feel like lying today."
A wicked gleam that he had started to associate with Daena returned to her eyes. "You're a mannerless idiot." There was no scorn in her voice anymore. "You have to get your wound treated, so I'll take my leave for now. I'll come back to see you soon."
"A goodbye kiss?"
Daena paused and stared at him playfully. She leaned forward and murmured, "Close your eyes."
Aerion did so, and Daena smacked his forehead. "Ouch!" he cried.
"Don't you think you have my heart now, Aerion, I'm still in control." She confidently announced before walking away.
"Bitch," Aerion muttered after she left the room. But he wanted her to come back, so he could truly earn her love and beat her at her own game.
The ghost of Maekar Targaryen faded slowly as Aerion recalled the taste of Daena's lips. It tasted of honey.