Aerion

Aerion had put time and effort into this. He had swallowed the shame from Ashford, waiting for the time to strike. And today, his hard work would finally bear fruit.

It was back when he had arrived in Lys that he heard of the Blackfyres' whereabouts. He was full of fury towards his father, towards Aegon, and towards that hedge knight. It was a desire for vengeance that motivated him to seek out the Blackfyres, and this Golden Company.

Hide amidst them, gain their trust, provoke them to attack his enemies, betray them and gain the crown for himself. That was his original plan. However, by the time he installed himself into their ranks, it was the eve before they invaded Westeros.

Had it been just that it would only lessen Aerion's work. He could have earned the trust he needed by advancing in battle. Yet, Aerion was ordered to stay with the small group of guards for the younger Blackfyre sister, the one who did not pretend to be a man with a freakish sword.

And so while the Blackfyres crossed the narrow sea, Aerion was forced to remain in Tyrosh.

He had thought of running away, but once the anger passed, he thought of a better plan. One that would bring him much more than running back to Westeros with his tail between his legs.

Daena Blackfyre was pretty, with her eyes and hair the exact same shade of Aerion's own, and during the short period they had met, she had shown obvious interest in Aerion. A favourable combination.

If he could abduct her and take her back to Westeros, he could spin the situation to his advantage no matter how the war goes. Aegon would be outshone by Aerion's bravery and cunning, that is, if he was still alive by then.

Aerion took his time to talk with Daena. A few sentences every day, at first. Then days turned into weeks, and a month later they were spending time alone for hours.

It was all too easy. She was as desperate for his attention as much as he desired hers. "I don't have anyone else to talk to now that Calla and Haegon are both gone," she told him herself. "There are no other ladies I could be friends with ever since my mother died… you're the first person outside of my family to approach me."

Aerion said a few sweet words to comfort her, and she melted in his arms completely. So simple-minded. So foolish.

He would wed her, Aerion had promised the first time they laid together, they could run away and find a Septon. Nobody would find them, he had whispered in her ears in a honey-coated voice.

But she had firmly refused. "No, I can't do this. Calla and Haegon are fighting a war across the narrow sea. Not just them, but Daemon and Aenys too, and they're never as gifted as Calla or Haegon are... I'm not like Calla, who could kill everyone in her path, but I have a responsibility to my family too."

She would not sway no matter what Aerion told her. He had hoped she would leave by her own will, so it would be less troublesome to spirit her away. But now he had to use other methods.

Today, he brought a bottle of wine when he went to meet her.

"I brought you something, Daena. The merchant said it's from Westeros."

Daena accepted his gift with a sweet smile on her face. "Arbor Gold, it'd seem. This must have cost you a fortune, knowing that it's imported from so far away. Thank you."

"All for you, my love." It was actually from Aerion's own stash. He had some wine stored away before joining the Company, along with some other… useful liquid.

She had the bottle uncorked and poured the wine out neatly in two small goblets. Aerion watched her movement with fascination. She moved swiftly, her every move quick and defined… she would serve better as a maid than a princess in a gilded cage. Maybe she can be my personal maid when I bring her back, Aerion thought. That would be sufficiently humiliating for a Blackfyre.

"What's the occasion, though? This is the first time you have brought me gifts— actually, wait for a second. I forget something I've planned to give you." She apologetically smiled. "Would you mind giving me some time to take it?"

"Of course not." He smirked. This was the opportunity he had been waiting for. "You have something prepared for me too? We're destined for each other, then."

"So we are." she beamed. "I'll be right back."

As soon as she was out of his sight, Aerion took out the small bottle he had hidden in his clothes and empty the contents into her cup.

She returned quickly, with a box in hand. "Oh, my love, I hope you didn't get too bored." Quickly she put down the box to give him a kiss.

Aerion gladly accepted her advance, pulling her close. They kissed for half a minute before releasing each other, Daena's face flushing deep red.

He wanted her, but he needed her to drink. He could enjoy her more… thoroughly when she was in his own chamber in Westeros. "Sit down and take a drink. We have plenty of time, you can relax… I'm not going anywhere."

Daena nodded. She smiled shyly and raised her goblet, "To good wine and love."

"To good wine and love," He echoed and watched her gobbled up the whole goblet of wine with satisfaction. It should only take a few minutes for it to take effect, Aerion thought as he also took a victory slip. It was sweet.

"It's good," She declared after putting down the goblet. "Westeros produces quality beverages. I wasn't too keen on returning before, but now I have a change of mind."

"Oh, but the daughters of Westeros are sweeter even. Rare, I'm sure, but the highest quality of women is sweeter than any wine." He continued to flatter her.

Surprisingly she didn't blush as Aerion expected her to. Instead, she had a wicked smile on her face. "Sweeter than those you have tasted in Volantis or those in Lys? I'm sure they're of Valyrian descent too."

Ah, yes, that was the story he gave her. A lowly Volantene, trying to seek his fortune with the Blackfyres, descendants of the old Valyrian dragonlords. "How could those of lesser blood be compared to you, descended from Aegon the Conqueror himself?"

"But they say the blood for greatness is also the blood for madness." Daena moved on to the box, warped in thick ropes. She started to tie it. Aerion paid her action no attention; he just had to wait for her to fall asleep.

"They are one and the same, dear Daena. The only difference is whether one succeeds - or not." He smirked.

"That's pretty insightful," Daena admired, fingers swiftly working on the ropes. "But does that make my father mad? He failed after all."

"He's mad." Daena frowned and stared at him when she heard those words, but he did not care. She was going to faint any second now. "But if he wasn't, we'd never meet."

"Oh, I won't be so sure about that." Daena threw away the ropes, her hands on the box's cover. "I'm sure we'd have met somewhere in Westeros. It might be a kinder fate for both of us. But now.. aren't you curious what I have prepared for you?"

Aerion blinked. Suddenly he felt giddy. Must be the excitement of victory coming to him. "Whatever it is, it must be marvellous, my love."

"It sure is." She reached into the box and pulled out a shiny dagger. "It's no Valyrian steel, but it was forged by the most skillful smith here in Tyrosh. It's my mother's."

"That's—" Aerion's lips and tongue were strangely stiff.

"Do you know how she died?" She asked. "An assassin from Westeros killed her. My two youngest brothers too. I was the only survivor of that attack. I have wished to put this dagger through those who were responsible since then."

"You… did you…" He could not move, could not control his limbs. His legs failed him and he fell out of his seat, haplessly laying on the floor.

Daena kneeled beside him, pulled him up by his hair with one hand, and pointed her dagger at him with the other. "Now, my dear Aerion, how does your own poison taste?" There was no trace of the shy, sweet woman in her eyes. "I wish it's not something deadly. I still have great use of you."

Aerion saw a woman in his dreams. Her hair was not silver-and-gold, but coal black. Her skin was not pale, but bronzed. She wore a purple dress, and when she turned her head to look at him, her eyes were as violet as his.

"Mother," he called.

But Dyanna Dayne did not heed him. She was busily fussing after a newborn babe. Aegon. Or was that Aemon? Aerion could not tell. Or maybe it was one of the girls.

Either way, she had no time for a second son who could care for himself. Too many children, one after another. Eventually Rhae came along, and she lived not long after that.

Aerion hated her. She was just a Dornish woman who had no place marrying a Targaryen. Had Maekar had a sister, no, even a cousin to wed, Aerion was sure he would have the attention he craved for.

If Aerion himself was to wed, he would never choose a Dornish woman. He would choose…

The woman's face shifted. A woman with curly silver hair and rose-red cheeks now stared back at him with a shy smile. Daena.

It was true that he would prefer to marry Daena over his sisters, Daella and Rhae who were little more than witless bitches. He had enjoyed the past months with Daena more than the time he had spent in Westeros.

But she was an illusion. The shy, sweet, lonely Daena never existed. Only a Blackfyre bent on revenge.

Daena— the Daena in his dreams— walked towards him, still holding the baby Dyanna was fussing over before in her arms.

Why did it not disappear with his mother? "Don't come near me!" He shouted, "And put that thing away."

Daena blinked. "But this is our child, my love. Don't you want to hold him?"

Our child? In confusion, he looked at the baby to search for any features that could confirm his identity—

—And found his own face staring back at him.

"No!" Aerion screamed.

The baby with his head did not scream. It smiled instead. "I'm a true dragon, Father," That... thing said in a childish voice. "One day I'll prove it to you. I'll become a dragon worthy of our house."

In horror, Aerion recognised his own words, words he had once said to Maekar Targaryen.

"Stop! Stop! This is just a dream! I don't need you to remind me. I know I'm a true dragon!"

But the thing with his head only crawled closer and closer. "Father, do you see? I'm a dragon now. I can fly…" Suddenly the creature flew. Flew into the air, and floated next to Aerion's head.

"...And I can breathe flames." A fire erupted from the lookalike's mouth and burned Aerion into ashes.