Aerion
The Massacre of Flea Bottom, they called it.
Since the day Bittersteel dragged Calla's body back to the Red Keep, the news was the only thing people talked about, and eventually, they reached Aerion's ears. He could only laugh. How fortunate. It would seem that fate was on his side.
There was nothing more enjoyable than seeing the astonishment, disbelief, then despair and anger on the hedge knight's face. Clenching his fists, he glared at the laughing Aerion, which only made Aerion's smirk deepen. Truly hilarious.
Calla Blackfyre, the Crystal Knight. How high and mighty she had been, that freak with a flashy sword. She sacrificed her womanhood only to lose her sanity… or maybe it was her true nature all along, or that it was her brother that went insane and ordered her to do it. Aerion would not know.
The fact was that Blackfyres would lose control of the city, sooner or later, with Calla lighting the flames all over the city. Aenys Blackfyre, the fool that allowed this to happen, would soon be dethroned. Aerion just had to wait for the good news from his useful friend Garlan, and he could take back what should be his.
"Enough with this!" suddenly Duncan shouted, seemingly on his limit, "I can't believe it. 'We don't kill innocents', she said… I quit. I'm not guarding one monster for another monster." There was more contempt in his voice than ever, but Aerion could sense that, for once, most of it was not directed at him.
Well. It was a chance.
"Work for me… no, work for my cousin and brothers at the Wall, then?" Aerion offered, "It's clear that the Blackfyre regime didn't work out. Time to pledge your loyalty back to your rightful masters, ser."
Duncan's eyes widened and he hissed, "I will rather go to the Wall and take the vow than work for you." Now that he'd decided to quit, he spat out his venom towards Aerion openly. "You laughed at a massacre. These few years you're only concealing your nature, and if you get back into power, you will only be worse."
"Worse, you say? What do you call Calla's action then? No matter what you think of me, I'm not the one who slaughtered thousands of people in a day." Aerion chuckled, "Ser Garlan and his allies are working to bring back a king that won't tolerate massacres. I haven't met Aelor in a long while, but that boy was just like his father," this was no compliment, "he has no taste for violence."
Duncan's eyes narrowed. "...Why are you persuading me to stay? I'm not going to tell anyone about your scheme, if that's what you're fearing."
"A dragon has no fear," Aerion replied automatically, "Besides, what makes you think you can just quit? Calla found you specifically because she knew who you were." That Aerion was certain. When he had complained about Duncan's appointment previously, citing Ashford, Calla had told him that was exactly the reason she assigned Duncan to him. "The moment you quit, you will be arrested for being a Targaryen sympathiser."
"You're bluffing. You can't know that."
"It's a possibility. Will you risk it? We are talking about someone who attempted to solve the poverty problem in the city by killing every single deadweight. Elegant and efficient, I shall give them that, but with that ruthlessness, they won't hesitate to silence you." This threat should be sufficient.
"Solving the poverty problem!" But Duncan's focus was on a different part. "You don't think…"
"Why else would Calla kill those people? With such investments in infrastructure and Aenys Blackfyre's various projects, the treasury must be drying up. But unlike us Targaryens, who had a long history in Essos, the Blackfyres failed to secure loans from the Iron Bank. Such that they contrived a plan to clear the parasites to make space for richer prospects." Aerion almost convinced himself. That made too much sense.
This only sparked Duncan's anger. "We're not parasites," he hissed, clenching his fists.
"We…?" He was indeed a parasite, but even a parasite could have its use. But Aerion was not including him in his words.
"I grew up in Flea Bottom," the hedge knight said. Ah, that made sense. A lowly man from a filthy place. Made his anger much more understandable. How did such a lowlife become a knight?
"You have a personal stake in this disaster then. It was your home the Blackfyres destroyed, your friends the Blackfyres murdered. Take revenge, as it should be," Aerion suggested, getting excited. He was almost there, he could tell. If he could get Duncan's full cooperation, then he could finally—
"Revenge, huh…" yet Duncan only sighed, "If I'm to take revenge, then I should break your fingers first. But this is pointless."
Aerion frowned. Still hung up on Ashford? That was four, no, five years ago. Aerion's nose, broken because of Duncan, now healed without a scar. The burning hatred he had held for the hedge knight had been replaced by a numb feeling of dislike and annoyance.
Aerion could barely recall the events of that day, but he distantly remembered being offended by the puppeteer's show… It was both embarrassing and nostalgic, to remember there were days when he could— and he would— lash out at any perceived insult without consequences. He was the dragon, and thus he was invincible compared to the lowly humans.
But that was what he had convinced himself, to block the loathe and disdain he had received. Aerion did not regret those days or felt guilty for what he had done, but he had grown to stop clinging onto that image. There were things more important to him now.
"I overreacted that day, I'll admit that," Aerion said, trying to keep himself from seething— it was still painful to admit guilt. "It was wrong of me to break the puppeteer's fingers. But there are bigger things at skate now, so we should put that aside."
Duncan's expression was bitter. "Say that to Tanselle," he mumbled, "I'm not the one to desire vengeance. About that day, or what happened in Flea Bottom. I have left them… I have no right to seek revenge. But I shouldn't work for Princess Calla any longer."
Argh, this was going nowhere. "I need you to stay," dropping the pretence, Aerion said bluntly, "Because another guard assigned to me won't be sympathetic to the Targaryen cause, won't be sympathetic to me. I lose the last tiniest bit of freedom if you resign. So help me, and I shall be content if we get a Targaryen back on the Iron Throne. I only want to be free from the state of being a glorified prisoner."
For some reason, this seemed to have swayed him. Duncan frowned, his gaze wavering, "...I understand. And Princess Calla was still in a coma… no one knows exactly what happened until she wakes up." The huge knight mused, murmuring several reasons, some Aerion did not catch, but he was not interested in asking. Duncan was doing a great job convincing himself. "I shall see for now. As much as I want to leave, I'm too knee-deep in this to just wash my hands off. And for Egg… I need to see what I can do."
Aerion smirked. He knew it would work eventually. "So it is. Now, we should keep in touch with Ser Garlan and see what further plans he has."
Duncan glanced at Aerion with a sigh, "But you… you do know what you're sacrificing by pushing your schemes?"
What? Oh. "Daena?" Aerion's mirth died out. "I'm not sacrificing anything…" he gritted his teeth, "if I never had her."
Daena still hadn't forgiven him...
He was getting increasingly impatient and frustrated with her, unable to stand the cold look she gave him every time he so much as glanced at him. He thought she would return to him soon, like the day she saved him from the Black Cells. Instead, her glare on him only turned sharper as time passed.
Daena knew how much he needed her, she must have known. So why would she not smile at him as she used to? Was he not as important to her as she was to him?
His heart was torn. If she was his queen, would she look at him like she used to?
...What he wanted was so close, yet so far from him.
But a line from Duncan broke his self-pitying. "She still loves you, I think. She's merely angry because you haven't apologised yet. She's waiting for you."
Aerion blinked. Daena, she...
She was waiting for him?
Before he would think himself too prideful to apologise. But he wanted her. If sweet words and soothing talk were all she desired...
"Can't say that I know much about women, but that would be the nature—" Duncan was still talking, but Aerion cut him off.
"I'll talk to her. Do you know where she is now?"
—
In great timing, Aerion found Daena just as she stepped out of the queen's chamber. Daena stared at him, eyes wide, and he saw that she was… crying?
"What are you doing here?" Daena's tone was indignant, but all Aerion could see was her eyes, glistening with tears. Could it be that she was crying for him because she missed him as much as he missed her?
"I miss you," Aerion strode forward and embraced her, "Daena, I'm sorry for doubting you before. I should have done this earlier. Come back to me." Feeling her warmth and her stiffened body relaxing, he leaned down to kiss her…
Daena blocked him with a finger, "Aerion, I'm glad that you came to find me." she frowned, "But there is something I have to deal with first. Now I know…" She sighed, "Kindly, stay with Rohanne for the moment. I'll find you as soon as I can."
Aerion was frustrated. "What happened? Is this because of Calla? But that was weeks ago!"
"No, it's another entirely different issue… but let's not talk in the hallway," Daena pulled his arm, attempting to move him. Aerion was happy to follow, but—
"Daena! Please don't go find him." It was Selyse Peake that rushed out, and the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms had her face painted heavily like a doll and wearing the most cumbersome winter dress, her eyes terrified. "Don't trouble yourself for me. This isn't important."
Ohh? So it concerned her, not Calla? Aerion's brow raised. He could not think of anything that would happen to the plain, unassuming Peake. And what was with her style of dressing? The weather was colder now, but not that cold.
"Not important?" Daena looked offended, "Did he—" she shook her head fidgety, "I was wrong about him. Selyse, I know that you'll have a difficult time speaking for yourself, but I have a different position. And I… have a responsibility to handle this."
"But he… we have talked about it. It won't happen again." Selyse pulled her collar— which was high up to her chin— uncomfortably, eyes wavering.
Daena sighed, "If we don't want more people to know about this, you have to let me talk to him."
"...Is this something you have to keep secret from me too, Daena?" Aerion cut in. He could not make head or tail of their conversation. Who was this "him"?
"Prince Aerion," It was only then that Selyse Peake noticed him, "This… this is nothing but gossip amongst women. It would hold no interest for you."
This was a lie, Aerion could tell. He made a noncommittal nod, his gaze turning to Daena.
Daena bit her lips, considering. A moment later she stared at him determinedly and said, "Aerion. I think you're right about the argument we had about our daughter all along."
The meaning of her words struck like thunder. Rohanne… Aerion had thought that Aenys hurt her because he was jealous.
Come to think of it, he never knew what had happened after Daena said she would get justice for Rohanne. Did Aenys sweet-talk himself out of his guilt, and only now Daena found out because of something Selyse told her?
If that's the case, then…
"This concerns me too. If you're going to see your brother— the king, I should come with you," Aerion said.
Daena widened her eyes, then smiled wryly. "I should've known you would say that."
