Aerion

Aerion screamed and protested and fought, yet he was still brought to this cell. Here, he could not see anything. There was only darkness, endless darkness and still, dead air. "Daena! Release me!" he shouted, pounding on the door, "Daena!"

But she would not come, because she thought he had betrayed her. He did not. He did not! He was a dragon! No one could force him to claim otherwise!

Yet he regretted it all the same. He wanted… he wanted Daena. He wanted her to trust him, to only have him in her eyes. To smile when she saw him, to share his pain and his triumphs...

How could she not understand that? How could she look at him with such abhorrence in her eyes? Had she been the same as any others who approached him, those who did not care about him, only his family name?

"Daena, I'm no more merciful to traitors than you are," he murmured.

Aerion should know it. Their relationship started with Daena tricking him. She only desired him for his seed, for her plans. And now that she had reunited with her brother she did not need him anymore.

Hatred boiled up inside him and he banged on the metal door again. Daena was his. Rohanne was his. No one could take them away from him. No one. No one!

He hissed in pain when he retracted his hands. There was something wet on his knuckles. His own blood. When he brought his hand to his lips it tasted metallic.

Daena. She caused all these. She could not just allow him to rot here.

"You'll pay, Daena. I didn't betray you. You did," Aerion swore, again and again, "You'll pay. You don't play with the dragon and get away with it."

But there was no revenge or apology to be found in the darkness.

That night, Aerion dreamed of fire.

When Aerion woke up, the first thing he noticed was his throat burning.

"Wine!" he screamed, but of course there was nothing. Blindly searching for the door, he accidentally kicked something heavy on the ground. Kneeling on the hard stone floor, he found the object. It was a wineskin.

It was half-full, and he drank the wine in one go. Choking, he shouted again, "Food! Where's my meal?"

There was no one who answered him. He leaned on the wall, bleeding again as his fingers scratched through a particularly sharp rock. Yet he continued until those same fingers touched the cold metal.

"Let me see Daena!" He kicked the door in frustration, "I'm her husband! You can't starve me!"

Nothing. A while later, Aerion fell to the ground, exhausted. How long had it passed? This was not Aerion's room in Tyrosh. There was no light, no bed, no maids. It must be Aenys Blackfyre, or Bittersteel. They wanted to kill him, so Daena could wed another.

"She's mine. Mine to punish, mine to kill," he whispered, "my… my wife."

"But it is part of her scheme. You have outlived your usefulness now that she has a living, healthy child from you."

"Who? Who said that?" Aerion barked, immediately sat up and looked around. There was only darkness.

A darkness that was overwhelming. Devouring. His voice echoed in the void. Then there was laughter.

Aerion closed his eyes and he saw… the child with his face. No, no, he understood now. It was never a child he would have with Daena. It was him.

It was Aerion himself.

"You're a dragon. You don't need her. You don't need anyone. You will take back the Iron Throne, and bring fire and blood upon those Blackfyres," the younger Aerion said, his voice sharp and convincing.

"I don't need her," Aerion repeated, "but… I want her."

"You need to kill her. She tricked you." The younger Aerion looked into his eyes. There was a fire, burning bright green, in those violet eyes. "Daena is a Blackfyre. She has been an enemy since the beginning. Burn her. Burn her!"

"No," Aerion found himself saying, "No, you don't get to make that decision for me. Daena… she'll pay, but…"

"A Blackfyre. She is unworthy of you. There's always another woman. You planned to kill her after ten months anyway. Take your daughter, give her a more suitable name. A Targaryen name."

"Stop this!" Aerion shouted, "Stop forcing me! I can't do this, I can't! House Blackfyre sits on the Iron Throne now, what could I do about it? I agreed to… the Targaryen name, I agreed to abandon it… I just don't want the Dornish name."

His younger self laughed, his voice getting sharper and sharper until Aerion was forced to cover his ears. "How can you still be a dragon, if you aren't a Targaryen?"

"What has the Targaryen name ever done for me?" Aerion asked bitterly, "The second son of the Prince of Summerhall. Only a footnote in history. Father wouldn't protect me, wouldn't recognise me. The only thing it brought me… is Daena."

Oh, how much he missed her, missed her smile and her warmth and kisses, missed her words and her affection. How could any of those be false? How could he… how could he not want her?

If Daemon Blackfyre never rebelled, perhaps they could have met in court. They did not have to lie and trick and betray each other. All because of this war… because of the argument between Red and Black.

As Aerion silently wept, his younger self sighed. "I don't have time for this," he declared, his voice suddenly high, his tone lazy and disinterested… no, Aerion saw it. his younger self was melting, reshaping himself into something else. Someone else.

"Stop bothering me," Dyanna Dayne scolded, "Why are you always making trouble? Can't you just shut up and sit down somewhere? None of your siblings are as troubling as you are."

Aerion dimly recognised his mother was near the end of her life when she said that. She gave birth to Rhae not long ago, and she always spent all her time wasted, lying on her bed.

Aerion was ten that year. Old enough to hate her, her and those siblings of his that she favoured. That was why he…

"Mother, would you still forsake me if you knew what I would do?" he whispered, "Would you care for me, just once?"

The woman crackled, her hair flinging wildly. "You? I tried to care for you, boy. But you… you killed animals. You tortured your brothers. There's nothing in you that can be loved. You're Maegor the Cruel reborn, a monster… but no, you're worse than him. Maegor didn't kill Visenya."

"You drank the wine yourself." All Aerion did was replace the bottle, and nobody ever knew. "My hands are clean. Besides, you're just a Dornish woman. I'm—"

"I'm your mother," Dyanna said, her eyes starting to bleed, "You cannot escape that, no matter how much you try to deny it. You're half Dayne and one-quarter Martell. Your shame…" She pointed an accusing finger towards Aerion, "Comes from yourself. No one will ever love you."

"No. Daena— my daughter—"

"No one will ever love you," A strong, booming voice echoed. Maekar Targaryen stood beside his wife, his body burned, melted, and fused with his armour. "You're a monster. Because of you, I was forced to kill Baelor. Because of you, we lost to the Blackfyres. Because of you, I was killed." Meatless fingers extended to grab Aerion, "You killed me."

"I didn't! Calla Blackfyre did!" There was that fear, the fear Aerion had whenever his father was present, that he would know the truth, the truth Aerion tried so hard to forget. It was all just a dream… it should be just a dream...

"You could have come back and warned us about the threat. But you chose to court the enemy instead. You abandon your family so you could be what? A prisoner in the Black Cells?" Maekar spat, "You're a coward. You should die. DIE!"

"No! I won't! I still want to… I still want to live!" Aerion screamed, and opened his eyes… he was alone.

There was nothing but darkness.

But the voices, the laughter, and the curses were still inside his head.

Aerion's view was distorted at this point. He knew that because he saw them in the corner of his eyes, even though he was awake. Maekar, his skin burnt to coal black, bone popping out from his flesh. Dyanna, blood dripping down from her eyes down to her pale legs, one eye staring deadly towards Aerion. The ghost of his past, haunting him, scolding him, cursing him. Because he was always different from his siblings. Because of the bugs and animals he had killed. Because he was cruel and mad.

"If you hate me so much, go find them! Find Daeron, the heir who grew up into a worthless drunkard because of his dumb dreams," Aerion screamed towards Maekar, whose boney fingers held a morning star. "You know what? I dreamed too! Yet you never cared. You never cared about me!"

"And you, find Daella and Rhea! Find the daughters you spent your dear life for. You were so happy when you finally got a daughter in Daella, but you were so greedy that you must have one more. You. You only wanted your perfect ladies. They're all septas now! What a joke!"

Dyanna only stared at him, one accusing finger pointed at Aerion. Drip drip drip, blood dripped rapidly onto the ground, quickly painting the Black Cells red. That was maddening. Maekar raised his morning star high, right above Aerion's head.

But the red, the scarlet surrounding him, the sound, the smell, it was worse than anything.

"Go on! Do it!" Aerion covered his ears and closed his eyes. He did not care anymore. "You have wanted to replace me with Aemon since he was born. Perfect little Aemon, can't hold a sword but choose to read. Harmless, pretends that he's so smart, so kind, yet he did nothing but cry when he saw what I did with Aegon. Do you know what he is? He's a coward. He ran away from us to become a maester, so he can pretend that he has nothing to do with us! He would spend the rest of his life regretting should he do more, but noooo, he would never do anything. That's the kind of person he is."

The red was filling the cell, flooding Aerion. the warm, sticky liquid had almost reached his neck. He would have died before Maekar could kill him, choking on his mother's blood. Aerion wanted to say more before that moment came.

"Aegon! The youngest son, the son you both spoiled to death, just because he is normal. Normal, I heard you two say. Doesn't have dragon dreams, isn't bookish, isn't obsessed with dragons. He had done nothing for him to earn your love, yet you would give nothing to me no matter what I did. He deserves nothing. Nothing! I wish a wilding kills him when he arrives at the Wall!"

Once the words left his mouth, thick liquid rushed into Aerion's open throat, the reeking of blood making him retch. Yet they kept coming in. Aerion's lungs felt heavy. The sound— the dripping— was still there, now closer than ever, piercing his earbuds.

He was… drowning. Dying.

"No…" A hand uselessly reached out, to the father who should be standing beside him. "No, please, I don't want to die…"

But there was nothing.

Another hand reached out, towards the mother who should be nearby. "Please, help me, I didn't mean any of that, I just… I just want you to care about me…"

Nothing.

"I need to be a dragon, so that I can convince myself I don't need anyone… but more than anything, I want… I want you to love me…"

But nobody—

"Aerion..." Two arms were open before him. A crying face.

Aerion's view twisted again until he saw a face illuminated by candles, her eyes full of tears dropping onto Aerion's face. "I love you, Aerion. I really do."

"Daena!" There were no words necessary. Aerion held her tight, his nose buried in her neck, taking in her aroma, feeling the warmth of her flesh. It was so real. She was real.

Her love was real.

"Daena. I'll be a Blackfyre," Later, when Aerion was fed, he told her. "I don't want to be a Dayne. House Targaryen has done nothing for me. I'll be one of you."

"I suppose there are precedents of the husband taking the wife's name. We can talk to Aenys and Uncle Aegor in private first, see if it can be arranged," Daena said, one hand caressing Aerion's slim face, her gaze full of tenderness and regret. "I should have come to find you sooner. I'm sorry."

"You should," Aerion said, but his tone was soft. He had sworn to make her pay, but the light of tears in her eyes was enough to satisfy him. "I didn't betray you," he added, a bit more forceful.

"I know. I was just furious before, but now… I thought about it, I should have asked you beforehand. Will you… be willing to tell me what happened to you before?"

Aerion hesitated. He could not let her know what he did. She would hate him. But she… Daena wanted to know about him because she loved him.

He could not tell the whole truth. But part of it… "I hate her. My mother," he started, but found it hard to continue, hard to explain. Yet Daena still looked at him patiently and smiled.

She would listen to him. She would accept him. As long as she was on his side, Aerion would not see Maekar's and Dyanna's ghost again.

He was still the same man. But he… he had found what he truly wanted.