114 AC | Kings' Landing
"Wake up, my prince." a man cladded in rustic-bronze armour said as he walked into the chamber, heading towards the curtains, and drawing them open and allowing the sun to shine throughout the room and hit Aerion in the eyes, he was displeased, and turned his head to face the opposite direction as he remained laying in bed, letting out a small grunt of annoyance, pulling the furred covers over his head.
"Go away, Rodrik." he demanded "I am sure training can wait an hour, my match is not until noon."
"My prince, you have already slept in, we must get in a few hours of training beforehand." Rodrik reached for the furs of the canopy, tugging them away from Aerion and dropping them onto the floor "Get dressed and meet me in the courtyard." Rodrik then left his chambers.
They had arrived to Kings' Landing last night, travelling along the Kings' Road from Runestone, his bones still ached, and his arse was next to numb, though he soon rose from his bed and began to rub his eyes, squinting as he gazed across the chambers, a bath had already been filled for him next to the fireplace, hot steam airing from it.
He ran his hair through his long platinum-blonde hair, which trailed down to his shoulders, he rose from the canopy red, stretching his arms above his head and letting out a loud yawn, and as he was getting into the metal tub, he was interrupted by a knock on the door "Come in." he yelled, and a maid dressed in red and white entered holding folded towel above a pile of clothes prepared for him, though she looked as if she was going to faint.
"My..my prince, a towel for when you are finished and...and your clothes, handpicked by Ser Rodrik." Aerion raised an eyebrow at her nervous behaviour, though he soon knew the reason when he looked down and remembered he was naked, he took a step closer to her and slowly grabbed the towel from her, a smirk on his face, then wrapping it around him.
"My apologies.." he said sincerely "Put the clothes on the bed.." he told her, and she bowed her head and placed it on the end of the canopy, quickly leaving the room without a word to him, to which he brushed it off.
He sunk himself into the bath, the heat relaxing his aching muscles, and he closed his eyes and immediately went into his thoughts, thinking of Runestone and his mother, Rhea Royce, they never had the closest relationship while growing up, he often reminded her of his father, Daemon Targaryen, to whom she hated with a burning passion, she told him once that he was the spitting image of the Rogue Prince.
He often heard of the depravity that his father apparently committed, how he compared his mother to sheep, and that he slept with many whores on the street of silk, though he also heard a different tale, that he was the dragon rider ever to and among the greatest of warriors, wielder of the Targaryen ancestral sword, Dark Sister, winning tourneys all across Westeros, and even Essos.
When he was younger, Aerion idolized his father, he would sit at his window each day awaiting for his fathers' return back to the Vale, though that day rarely came, in all his life he has only seen his father on four different occasions and only ever spoke to him twice.
Though despite his failings as a father, it was the warrior side that Aerion still idolized, he practised day and night with the sword in the hopes he could one day surpass his father and become a great warrior fit enough to wear the Targaryen name and perhaps even wield Dark Sister himself once his father had passed from this world.
Aerion shook his head, no longer wanting to think about the past, today was going to be the day that he was going to make his mark on the word, to win a melee at six and ten years of age was no small feat, it will jumpstart his goals to become the greatest dragon who ever lived and be marked in the history books, and to have songs sung about him in hundreds of years.
He rose from the tub once he wet his hair under the water, stepping towards the towel and drying his body before wrapping it once more around him, he looked through the clothes that were given to him, and they were rather elegant from what he was used to, it was black gambeson with four small golden dragon clasps and a white tunic to wear underneath, alongside it was a pair of black breeches and boots, with a black belt with a golden buckle with a circular ruby in the middle.
Once he had put his clothes on, he straightened his hair, making sure there were no knots before pulling it back and tying it back into a ponytail, he was sick of having his hair getting all in his face whenever he trained, the only reason he kept it so long was to spite his mother, knowing that she would prefer it short.
Aerion was feeling much better than he had been when he first woke up; the bath did its job of ridding him of his achiness; he opened the door to his apartment and walked through the corridor, nodding his head at each of the passing nobles, when he came upon a servant, he pulled them to the side, it had been the same girl who had entered his chambers previously "My chambers need to be cleaned, make sure it is done before I return this evening." waving her away before she had a chance to reply.
Rodrik was already in the courtyard when he had arrived, his sword drawn and dug into the dirt while he was talking to a knight of the kingsguard, Ser Steffon Darklyn, as he got closer to them, they turned to him, and Aerion noticed another sword still its' sheath that Rodrik was carrying, to which he chucked it in his direction, and Aerion caught hold of it, taking a look at the hilt, running his hand over the the dragons' head that sat as the pommel, with eyes made of rubies, before he hooked it onto his belt.
"A gift from his grace, my prince, it may not be Valyrian steel, but it was forged by the finest blacksmith in Kings' Landing, or so they say." Ser Rodrik said, pulling his sword from the dirt and placing it back into its slot on his belt "Ser Steffon here tells me the King is most looking forward to you competing."
"Well then, you best remind me to thank His Grace when I see him, Ser Rodrik." Aerion replied, a smirk on his lips, and Ser Steffon bowed his head to the prince, removing himself from their company and returning within the Red Keep.
"Come, It is time to practise; I have heard you will be going up against a knight from House Bracken, one must be careful with those lot." Rodrik said, to which Aerion nodded in response, walking towards the rack of wooden swords in the corner before he was stopped "No, my prince, let us practise with steel today." Rodrik removed his sword once more from its' sheath "It will give you a chance to get use to your new blade."
Aerion had a wide smile on his lips, his hand instantly moving towards the hilt of his new blade, removing it from its sheath, the edge shining bright against the reflection of the sun, and he twirled it in his hand, then striked the air "It fits in my hand, and it is not too heavy, absolute perfection." he looked towards Rodrik, placing his right foot in front of the left, both hands placed on the blade's hilt, preparing himself to defend from Rodrik's attacks.
Rodrik stood silent for a few moments, making Aerion raise an eyebrow, though without warning, Rodrik swiftly attacked him, to which Aerion managed to block with his blade, using his strength to push him away, Rodrik was quick for his age, he was fifty name days old and just as fast as one would be at twenty.
Aerion returned his attack with one of his own, striking at his leg, which Rodrik also managed to block, however, he used the chance to punch him clean in the face with his left hand, though it did not have much force behind, only enough to make him stumble, Aerion would draw himself back, grinning at Rodrik as he twirled his sword, looking up at the viewing balcony, noticing the King alongside his Hand, Lyonel Strong, many people at that point had begun to watch, circling around them.
"That was a cheap move, my prince." Rodrik said, clearly annoyed at being hit, he answered the attack aiming towards Aerion's head with a swing from his right, to which he was quick to duck underneath the blade, which was inches away from skimming his head, then taking a few steps back once more.
"Almost got me there." Aerion replied "You must use everything to your advantage, Ser Rodrik, even if that means being a little dirty." his gaze once more went towards where the king was standing, he was now whispering into the ear of Lyonel, Aerion shook his head, drawing his attention back to Rodrik, he was better defended this time when Aerion went to attack, blocking every move he attempted, and even returned a cheap shot to the face "Now who is fighting dirty, Rodrik? Aerion replied, wiping the blood from his nose and flicking it on the ground.
With each strike, another block came, and Rodrik raised his sword above his head, striking it down at Aerion, which was met with a hard clash to Rodrik's sword, throwing him off balance, he used this newly found advantage to kick him directing at his left kneecap, slashing at his waist where no armour protected him, thinly cutting him and then directing his sword at his throat, holding his position "Yield."
Rodrik released a faint gasp of pain, placing his hand on the open would and nodding his head to Aerion "I yield, my prince." he replied sheathing his blade, placing his free hand onto Aerion's' shoulders "You are ready." Rodrik patted his shoulder a few times.
"Swallow that pride, Rodrik, then go get that cut checked by the Maesters." he commanded, getting a simple nod in reply from Rodrik. who removed his hand from his shoulder and walked off, and Aerion couldn't decided which he injured more, his body or his pride.
Aerion looked around as everyone began clapping, though his attention soon went towards the king, who was making his way towards him, Aerion sheathed his blade, cupping both hands on the pommel, bowing his head to the king when he finally reached him "Your Grace."
"No need to be so formal, nephew." the king replied "We share blood, it is Viserys to you, or uncle, that is what I demand." he placed his hand on Aerion's' shoulder, leaning in closer "I see you have taken to my gift." he pointed towards the sword "Looking at you now, you look just like your father did when he was a young man." Viserys hand went from Aerion's shoulder to cup his cheek "We will be having a family meal tonight...you will join us."
"If that is what you wish, your gra- uncle, I shall be there." Aerion blushed at the the king cupping his cheek, never had he felt so much warmth and affection from family, not even his own mother, who remained cold and distant, he gently grabbed onto his uncle's wrist, slowly pulling it away, making sure he does not cause offense "May I be excused, uncle, I should get ready for my match-up." The king soon excused him, and he made his way to the armoury.
Aerion wiped his nose on the wrists of his gambeson, blood still slowly dripping from it, he entered the armoury where his armour was on display, the final preparations being handled by two squires "I trust the armour is to your liking, my prince." the armourer asked as he sharpened a sword in the corner.
The armour was dragon-scaled black, with the Targaryen sigil completely on display, encrusted with rubies on the breastplate, Valyrian symbols etched throughout. "It is perfect, this is just what I need." He looked to the squires who were finished cleaning "Assist me in putting it on." The squires nodded, helping him secure each piece to himself.
Aerion made his way towards the arena where the melee would be taking place; located just outside of kings' landing, there were rows of tents set up for the nobles that had come to compete and to watch the tournament; most looked in awe as he walked past them cladded in his newly fitted armour.
A servant came to him and directed him towards his tent; as he made his way there, he met Rodrik on the way, still holding his wound, which had been cared for by the maesters, wearing a white cloth around his waist "Feeling better, Rodrik? After all these years, I've finally managed to wound you," Aerion laughed, entering his tent, it was lavish, with a fur rug covering the floor, a canopy, a table full of fruits, and a desk if he wanted to write to anyone.
"Feeling much better, My Prince, they gave me milk of the poppy, can barely feel a thing…you look like a true knight in that armour; perhaps once you win this thing, I will knight you myself." Rodrik took a seat at the foot of the canopy, disconnecting the sheath that held his sword from his belt and placing it between his legs.
"Do you think I can truly win? I still have much to learn." Aerion replied with an ounce of doubt in him, he had never truly fought anyone competitively before, nor for survival, only to train and to never truly harm.
"Do you know, when you were a little boy, I used to try and tell you stories of the histories of House Royce, but I couldn't get a few words in before you were begging me to tell stories of Aegon the Conqueror, and his conquest." He took a moment, noticing Aerion rolling his eyes "I believe you will win, but you must believe in yourself" he rose from the canopy, launching a fist at Aerion's heart "When you are facing down your opponent, you are not truly up against them, you are clearing a path to your ultimate goal."
"Thank you, Rodrik…not for the speech, it was overdramatic…even for you." Aerion replied coldly, "You have been a good teacher, and I hope to prove to you I am ready to receive my knighthood." he walked over towards the table of fruits, grabbed an orange, and began to peel it open, once peeled he takes a huge bite out of it, a boy no older than ten entered the tent, bowing his head to the prince.
"My prince, you are up next; they have requested you make your way there now." The boy bowed to Aerion, quickly rushing out of the tent; Aerion looked towards Rodrik "Let us get going then." He whispers to himself in Valyrian "The blood of the dragon will see me victorious." Rodrik passed him his closed helmet to go with his armour; it had dragon wings on either side of the helmet, something his father's helmet once had as well; the Valyrian symbols for 'Fire' and 'Blood' were etched on the forehead of the helmet, for everyone to see that he stands true to his family's words.
The Arena was crowded with people from all over the realm, the king sat in a private viewing chamber made of stone with all the great lords of Westeros that had come to see the tournament, as well as members of his court, it was there that Aerion noticed his cousin for the first time, Princess Rhaenyra, The Realm's Delight, she immediately gained his attention, never before had he seen someone so beautiful.
Aerion raised his arms in the air as he entered the fighting area, getting the attention of the crowd; he had a large smile on his face as people screamed in joy, excited to see the fight unfold; he looked across to his opponent, who stood half a foot taller than he and wore bulky plated armour underneath a brown tabard with a sigil of a red stallion on a gold shield, representing House Bracken, he further analysed his opponent, watching his movements as he walked his way into the area, the knight was considerably slow, something Aerion could use to his advantage, however, the knight wielded a great sword which he will need to watch out for.
He drew his attention from his opponent and towards the viewing box, his eyes focused solely on the Princess, who was fidgeting with a pendant around her neck in the shape of a three-rounded circle intertwined with a ruby glass centre, Aerion could not explain the feeling as he looked to her, it was as if an energy radiated around her, drawing him in, he almost forgets where he was at that moment until the announcer came in between the two fighters, his attention returning once more to his opponent, who gave him a cold and fearless stare.
"Lords! Ladies! It is time for a duel that will certainly be entertaining!" The Announcer yelled, ensuring everyone had his attention "Prince Aerion of House Targaryen, Heir to Runestone, will now battle against Ser Brandon of House Bracken!" He quickly nodded to both fighters "Let us give them a cheer!" he waved his hands up into the air, and the crowd roared in response, the announcer exiting the area soon after.
Aerion drew his sword from the sheath, his right foot stepping in front of his left, bending his back and leaning his upper body inwards, getting ready to defend against his opponent; he shut out all the noise from the crowd, he sole focus on his opponent and his movements.
His opponent lifted the great sword above his left shoulder, holding the hilt with both hands; as he reached Aerion, he directed the sword down upon him, aiming towards his head which Aerion was quick to dodge; pushing himself backwards, he began to circle his opponent, looking for any weakness.
Aerion moved to lay a heavy strike into his opponent's leg, using his full force behind it. However, it was blocked by his great sword; Aerion stumbled onto the ground from the impact; he quickly rose from the floor, moving out of the way as the knight struck at the ground where he was.
Aerion toyed with his opponent for what seemed a long time, slithering away at each of his attacks, the knight was getting slower, and his attacks were less frequent; panting after every strike, Aerion finally saw his advantage; he struck air once more as Aerion swiftly shifted around him, lifting his blade and digging it into the back of the knights' kneecap, all he heard were the screams of pain coming from him as he fell to the ground.
Aerion took a deep breath, out of breath from the fight, then proceeded to pull the sword from his opponent's leg, removing his helmet and throwing it on the ground and then pulling the helmet from his opponent's head, smacking him in the side of the head with it, making him drop to his stomach.
He walked over him, placing each of his legs at either side of his opponent's waist, leaning down and gripping the knight's hair, pulling it and placing his blade right up against his neck; he grunted in pain, trying to let out words "I yield." the knight pleaded "I yield.."
Aerion looked around as he continued to lean down, looking up at the viewing box, his attention once more solely on the princess, a small smirk on her lips; he returned the look she gave him, and leaned further down at his opponent, whispering in his ear "May you be greeted by the warrior.." he coldly slit his opponent's throat, a loud gasp followed by mumbles came from the stands soon followed, he stepped away from his cold body, he looked up towards the king who looked horrified, then his gaze went towards the princess, who looked almost pleased and impressed despite those around her, he bowed his head to her as he walked up closer to the viewing box.
He raised his sword up towards the princess, a smile on his face, seemingly not moved by his first kill "May I have your favour, princess? it would be my honour to fight for the Realm's Delight." The princess rose from her seat, glancing at her father, who was still shaking his head in disbelief; she walked to the railing of the viewing box.
"I look forward to seeing you win, Cousin." She threw a long piece of red silk towards him, which he caught in his hands, pulling it towards his face, placing his lips against it as he winked to the princess, moving to wrap the silk around his upper arm, securing it.
"I will not disappoint you, princess." He bowed his head towards the princess, returning his attention to the king, bowing his head to him as well, before turning from the viewing box and heading towards Ser Rodrik, who looked as if he was going to burst, whether it was of joy or anger, Aerion did not know.
Aerion patted him on the shoulder, walking in the direction of his tent, everyone looking at him as he passed them; he looked to his hand that had been covered in the blood of his enemy and wiped it across his face, making him appear even more menacing than before.