Aerion
What now?
It was Aerion's only thought.
The tourney ended before it started. Bittersteel and Calla Blackfyre were trying to control the situation, but they did not manage to quiet the fuzzing of the crowd. The various nobles would not be leaving, for they would wish to attend the baby's funeral— but for the knights…
Well, that was why Calla was there. Without the tourney, they would have to find another way to form that stupid Crystal Guard. The whole plan was hare-brained anyway.
"Aerion," Daena pulled his sleeves, "We should go back and look after Rohanne. After… Daemon..." Frowning, her face was filled with worry, sadness, and— when she glanced at Aerion— sharp displeasure. "You don't care at all, do you?"
Aerion wished to snort and tell her that he did not care about babes that were doomed to die from the beginning. But he had learned better. "He isn't our son. But I can feel sorry for your family."
"You can, sure. But you…" Daena shook her head, appearing too distressed and irritated to finish the sentence. "Whatever. We're going back. Ser Duncan," she called the parasite following them, who nodded back, "please escort us back."
Ser Parasite nodded, "Of course, princess." But Aerion saw where his gaze had fallen before he turned to Daena.
Under the banner of a golden flower, a smirking man was sitting comfortably in his booth even when the rest of the tourney ground was in chaos. When their eyes met, his smirk deepened. The smirk of a co-conspirator.
A corner of Aerion's lips lifted. Next time, then. They would have plenty of chances.
—
Garlan Tyrell, second son of Leo Longthorn and second-in-line of the Reach.
Aerion met him at a feast a year prior to the tourney. Coincidentally, it was also to celebrate Daemon's nameday— or not so coincidental, as it was the only event major enough to extend an invitation towards the unwelcome Tyrells.
Aerion had not thought much of the man before he approached them. Well, not much about the man himself, but of his House… Aerion loathed the traitors who refused to meet his eyes during Aenys Blackfyre's wedding feast. Those fence-sitters would rather pretend that Aerion did not exist and that they were loyal vassals of House Blackfyre all along.
...That was what Aerion had believed before Tyrell came forward with a polite smile. "Prince Aerion, I have been waiting for a chance to talk to you."
Aerion recognised the sigil— he would be a fool if he did not— but he did not know his name. Still, there was only one reason Tyrell would be speaking to him. "You are…?"
Tyrell bowed slightly, "Ser Garlan Tyrell, second son of Lord Leo Tyrell, Lord Paramount of the Reach."
Leo Longthorn himself did not attend the feast, claiming sickness and only sending his son. Garlan Tyrell was slightly older than Aerion, perhaps five years or less, and wore himself in a very Tyrell manner— bright green and gold and smooth silk with clean cutting. Typical useless flower with nothing but look.
The feast had been in full swing by then, and people were all lazed in their attention. Daena was chatting with her sister on the other side, but that hedge knight was still close to Aerion. When Aerion glanced towards the man sideways he could see that Duncan was observing the scene with alarm. Damn him, and damn Calla too. "You have plenty of chances the whole feast," Aerion said coldly, "Unless it is something only for my ears? Then you better notice that my… bodyguard is around, and he won't leave me no matter the circumstances."
Garlan's smile widened. "I do recognise Ser Duncan the Tall. Although I haven't met him before, my father had told me all about… the details I must know. As such, I'm sure that the news I hold will be of interest to both of you."
Aerion glanced over the crowd of the feast. No one seemed to pay attention to the three of them. "And what news would that be?"
"Since King Aenys' war, the Night's Watch has seen a lot of new members, many fine, young men from various noble houses. House Tyrell, as you know, is… not among them. However, the Reach saw an opportunity in the rise of the Watch— and such we have decided to add our own contribution. Hundreds of knights loyal to us have volunteered to join the Night's Watch since then, and many more businessmen from the Reach have settled in Mole's Town… which provided us some interesting information," Garlan explained.
Despite the man's careful and crafty wordings, it was clear what he was suggesting. Duncan's face was ashen. Aerion only wanted to laugh. He was not foolish enough to engage in a scheme that could get him killed, for whom? Daeron? Aemon? Aegon? "Those of the Wall have forsaken their family. Their actions are no concern to me."
"Their actions, mayhaps, but what of... their deaths?" Garlan raised three fingers. "Three men of House Targaryen have died since they arrived at the Wall—"
"Who?" It was Duncan that bit the bait. "Who died?" The hedge knight's brows were knitted together in worry, no doubt concerned about Aegon. Aerion found his reaction hypocritical. He had abandoned Aegon the moment he started working for Calla.
"A week after his arrival, Prince Rhaegel fell to his death from the top of the Wall," Garlan started recounting, "Three months after his arrival, King Aerys died of a cold. And finally… Prince Daeron was caught trying to desert the Watch a month prior. He was executed by the Lord Commander himself."
"Always too weak to bear any responsibility." Aerion sneered. Good riddance. Duncan was glaring at him the way he did at Ashford, but— why should Aerion care? He could not try and strike Aerion like that day. Aerion did not know what Calla had on him, but he had signed the devil's contract. It was too late for him to back out.
On the other hand, Garlan was not shaken by Aerion's pleased reaction to his brother's death. He only produced a sad smile. "Regardless, this means the House Targaryen is down to four— Prince Aelor, Prince Aemon, Prince Aegon, and… you, my prince. My father has his attention on Prince Aelor, but..."
Aelor. Now that was a name Aerion had not heard or thought of in some time. The kid did not leave much of an impression in Aerion's mind, for the handful of times they were forced to interact. It was a blessing that the boy had not inherited his father's intelligence, only his appearance. The look of a fool.
...But with Aerys and Rhaegel dead, he would be the heir of the Iron Throne. And following him, Aerion himself.
Aerion glanced at Tyrell's face. He had his smile up the entire time, a polite smile that changed appropriately with the content spoken. But behind his facade, Aerion could see that deep in his eyes there were cold calculations, burning ambition, and… malicious intent.
He's like me, Aerion decided. He had people he wanted to burn, a power he wished to obtain.
And he needed Aerion's cooperation. So one day, when he took power and started to burn people, he would have a king willing to support him. Someone who would not care what he was planning to do to his own people and family.
Aerion had no interest in restoring the Targaryens if that would mean seating Aelor on the Iron Throne. But Aelor was a boy in the Night's Watch full of Tyrell knights. And if the man in front of Aerion then was inclined to arrange an accident…
Targaryen loyalists throughout Westeros would be happy to put Aerion on the Iron Throne.
Aerion could feel his pulse pumping in excitement. He wanted it. He could not deny the jealousy every time he saw Aenys Blackfyre sitting on the Iron Throne, the Crown of the Conqueror on his brow, and Blackfyre on his lap. Those should all belong to Aerion. He always pictured himself there, Daena on his side. It was just right.
It was no longer a dream. Aerion could catch Calla and Bittersteel unaware and strike at the right moment with Tyrell's support, now that they had let down their guard on him. It was here, so close, if only he could convince Tyrell to help him… and, of course, his parasite knight to not blow it up.
Aerion had an idea how to do that. "House Tyrell," he lowered his voice to barely a whisper, "would support my cousin Aelor to the throne?"
It was just enough for Duncan to hear the words. He widened his eyes, but— although looking conflicted— made no attempt to arrest Aerion and Garlan for high treason or reporting it to a Blackfyre. Good. There was a chance that he would tell someone later, but that was a risk Aerion would have to take.
"That's my father's wish, yes," Garlan answered, their eyes meeting, both filled with understanding. He knew exactly why Aerion was asking. "But he was old and ill. If tragedy strikes and he leaves us, Highgarden will fall to my nephew, a boy of nine. My elder brother and his wife had sadly perished in the spring."
Aerion recalled Tyrell's family tree. He remembered that Leo Longthorn only had two sons… and as the mother had perished, who would be a better regent than the boy's only uncle and heir? "I see. And with how House Blackfyre clearly despises your house and Aenys' marriage to a Peake… you will want to make a move before it's too late."
"As much as I wish to take action, the prince is still young and I'm afraid that he won't be followed if we're to move hastily. Let him grow up and harden his body and soul in the cold north. By the time he becomes a man, he will be a king worth following."
"By the time he becomes a man," Aerion repeated with a knowing smile. "And I trust that your knights will protect and guide him?"
"They are my father's knights rather than mine," for now, he indicated, "but yes, they will. They listen to… orders."
Orders to protect… orders to kill. Perhaps Rhaegel and Aerys did not die naturally, as well. They were certainly not suited to be king, one a lackwit and another signing the treaty that bastardised his own line.
Perhaps Aelor would die soon. Or even better, Aemon and Aegon.
"Good. We shall keep in contact, Ser Garlan. In the future, if you have any news regarding my cousin, I will be glad to hear it."
—
"This is treason," Duncan had warned the instant Garlan left them, with a low, unhappy voice. Pulling Aerion aside, the hedge knight seemed ready to strike him again. Aerion forced himself not to shiver in fear of painful memories. He must keep his composure, Duncan would not submit if he failed to do so.
Instead, he forced out a smirk. "Treason? Treason to whom? Are you not loyal to my brother? The line of my grandfather, King Daeron the Good? The moment you started working for Calla Blackfyre was when you became a traitor, hedge knight. You have been committing treason without pause."
The hedge knight gritted his teeth. "You. What do you get from this? You're married to Princess Daena. Do you not care for her and your daughter at all?"
He cared. If Aelor was king, sure, there was reason to fear for Daena's and Rohanne's safety. But if Aerion was king, he would just have them as his queen and princess. All would be well.
But she will hate you.
Aerion ignored that weak protest from his mind somewhere.
However, he could not tell Duncan that, for he knew that the knight loathed him and would be horrified by the idea of Aerion being the king. Instead, Aerion snorted. "Daena is my wife, yes, but I'm a prisoner in the Red Keep— and you're my jailer. I'm a prince, a dragon. Dragons should soar in the sky, not be chained inside a pit. But this isn't about me. This is about my little brothers. Do you want to see them rot in the freezing north until death, or to have everything back to how they used to be? If Aelor is king, I'll take back Summerhall for it's my right. Aemon can go back to the citadel, and Aegon can go back to the journey you two are so fond of… whatever Calla has promised you, we can provide you more as long as you cooperate."
"Egg…" Duncan started, then stopped himself with a painful look on his face. He must have realised that Aerion did not actually care about Aegon. If anything, the opposite. "Princess Calla's promise… doesn't matter right now. My task is to stop your wrongdoings."
"I'm aware." Aerion shrugged. He had raged back when Calla assigned Duncan to watch over him. The fact that Daena treated the huge man kindly made him even more furious. But he had since resigned and accepted having the eyesore following him around. It was just one of the many hurdles he must endure in exchange for being with Daena.
And Aerion had been good, until then. "I haven't done anything wrong, hedge knight. Do you see me twisting people's fingers off this time? There's no freak of a damsel in distress around for you to play the hero. You can tell Calla what Tyrell told us and force her to kill my cousin and brothers just to secure the Blackfyre dynasty… or shut your mouth and let matters resolve themselves." Aerion chuckled, "I'm not bothered either way. It's sad to lose a chance to be free… but seeing Aegon die will be enough to compensate. It's not like I actually did anything to help Tyrell… I'll remain safe here."
Duncan hissed in anger, "I won't let my friends die just to entertain you. I thought maybe marriage and fatherhood have changed you, but you're still the same man, Aerion Brightflame."
You're still the same man who only knows how to hate, to feel ecstatic when you torture others. You can never feel love, or to love.
But that was not true. He loved Daena, and she loved him. He had a family of his own now, and he was a better husband and father than Maekar Targaryen had ever been. "I'm not," Aerion simply said, "I'm different now."
And if Duncan did not see it, that was because he was a fool, too trapped in the past to notice. Aerion was different. He focused on the possible future he could have.
And will that be a good one, to you and her?
Aerion… had no answer.
