114 AC | Kings' Landing
The doors bursted open, and a man cladded in rustic bronze armor walked over towards the curtains "Are you still abed?" he sighed, drawing them open and allowing the sun to shine through "Come on, My Prince, we must train for your duel."
The brightness from the morning sun hit Aerion in the eyes, and he covered his face with the furred covers, turning over into the opposite direction "Go way, Rodrik." he demanded "we have until noon, I am sure training can wait an hour." followed by a grunt of annoyance.
"And I would allow it." Rodrik responded "if you had not already slept in, we must get in a few hours of training beforehand." he continued, reaching for the furs and tugging them away from Aerion, with little trouble "Get dressed and meet me in the courtyard."
"Ugh.." he grunted, they had arrived at Kings' Landing last night after an entire moon of travel from Runestone, he hadn't slept in a comfortable bed in what felt like forever.
He soon rose from the bed, his bones still aching from the journey, he began to rub his eyes, squinting as he looked across his bedchambers, a bath having already been filled for him next to the crackling fireplace, and hot steam aired from it.
Aerion swiped his hand through his long platinum-blonde hair, which trailed down to his shoulders, and he then rose from the canopy bed, stretching out his arms and letting out a loud yawn, before making his way over to the bath.
As he placed one of his feet into the tub, the boiling water seemingly having no effect on him, he was interrupted by a knock on his door "Come in." he yelled, stepping back out of the bath.
A servant dressed in a red dress with a white apron entered with a folded towel set above a neat pile of clothes prepared for him, though she appeared to almost faint as they shared a look, almost dropping everything from her hands, following with a gasp.
"My..uhm..my prince, a towel for when you are finished." she said, trying to avoid eye contact while not appearing to be rude "and your clothes..handpicked by Ser Rodrik." Aerion crossed his arms, raising a brow at her behavior.
It took him a moment of awkwardness between the two to realize why she was not looking to him, peering down being instantly reminded that he was naked "Right.." he thought to himself, before taking a few steps towards her and slowly grabbing the towel, a cheeky smirk on his face, before wrapping it around himself.
"Apologies, my lady." he said sincerely "You can put the clothes on the bed.." he continued, nudging his head towards the canopy, and he kept his eye on her as she placed the clothes down and quietly left without a word, to which he simply brushed it off.
He sunk himself in the bath, the heat relaxed his aching muscles, and he found himself immediately exploring his mind as he closed his eyes, primarily about Runestone and his mother, who he never had the closest relationship with growing up, being a constant reminder of his father, Daemon Targaryen, to whom she hated with a burning passion.
Aerion was often compared to the Rogue Prince in both his looks and behaviour, they shared the same platinum-blonde hair and soft-lilac eyes, though he did not like his father either, he is often told of the depravity that his father commits, how he compares his mother to that of sheep, and the amount of whores he had slept with along the street of silk.
Though despite that depravity, he also heard a completely different tale, that he was the greatest dragonrider of their time, and among the greatest of warriors, wielder of Targaryen ancestral sword, Dark Sister, winning tourneys all across Westeros and Essos, bringing more renown to House Targaryen and himself.
He didn't always dislike his father, as a child he often idolized him, sitting at his window each day awaiting for his fathers' grand return to the Vale, though that day rarely came, in the entirety of his life, he had seen his father four times, and only ever spoke to him on two occasions.
Apart of him still idolized the warrior his father was, despite his failings as a father, he practiced day and night with a sword in the hopes he could one day surpass him in reputation and skill, and fit enough to wear the Targaryen name and wield Dark Sister himself once his father passed from this world.
Aerion shook his head, no longer wanting to think on the past, today was going to be the day he would make his mark on the realm, to win a melee at six and ten years of age was no small feat, it will jumpstart his ambitions to become the greatest dragon who ever lived and be marked in the history books and songs for a thousand years.
He rose from the tub and stepped out once he wet his hair under the water, stepping towards the towel and drying his body, wrapping it around him once more, Aerion looked through the clothes that had been given to him, and they were rather elegant to what he was used to wearing.
It was a black gameson with four small golden dragon clasps and a white tunic to wear underneath, alongside it was a pair of black trousers with boots that added an inch to his height, with a black belt with a golden buckle encrusted with a circular ruby in the center.
He put his clothes on, straightening his hair and making sure there were no knots before pulling it back and tying it into a small ponytail. There was nothing more he hated than having his hair draped over his eyes when training, though only continued to keep it long knowing how much his mother hated it.
Aerion was already feeling much better than he was when he first awoke; the bath did its job of ridding him of his aching pain, he left his bedchambers and walked his way through the corridor, nodding his head at each of the passing nobles.
When he came across the servant from earlier, he took hold of their wrist and pulled them to the side. "My chambers need to be cleaned, make sure this is done before I return." waving her away and continuing on before she could respond.
Rodrik was already prepared in the courtyard when he had arrived, his sword drawn and dug into the dirt while he spoke with what looked like a Knight of the Kingsguard, their pretty white cloak being a giveaway.
As he got closer to them, they both turned in his direction, and Aerion noticed another sword which had still been its' sheath, being carried by Rodrik, and it was thrown in his direction, and Aerion caught hold of it, taking a look at its' hilt, running his hand over the dragons' head that sat as the pommel, with eyes made of ruby, before he hooked it to his belt.
"A gift from his grace, my Prince." Rodrik revealed "It may not be Valyrian Steel, however Ser Steffon here tells me that it was forged by the finest swordsmith in Kings' Landing." Rodrik pulled his own sword from the dirt and placed it back into its slot on his belt "Ser Steffon says the King is looking forward to watching you fight today."
"Is that so?" he enquired, looking to Ser Steffon.
"It was, my prince, a swordsmith along the Street of Steel to be more specific, but I shall leave you both to your training." he nodded his head to Rodrik, before bowing to Aerion, taking his leave and heading back into the Red Keep.
"Do remind me to thank His Grace when I see him, Ser Rodrik." Aerion replied, a smirk on his lips.
"Come, it is time we practice; you have already wasted enough time today in bed." Rodrik answered "I have heard you are up against a knight of House Bracken, one must be very careful with those lot."
Aerion walked towards the rack of wooden swords in the corner of the inner courtyard, however he was stopped by Rodrik "No, my prince, let us practice with live steel today." Rodrik removed his sword once more from its' sheath "It will give you the chance to practice with your new blade."
He had a wide smile upon 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 perfectly, and it rather light, absolute perfection."
Aerion turned his body to face Rodrik, placing his right foot in front of the left, and both hands were positioned on the blades' hilt, preparing to defend himself from his attack.
Rodrik stood silent for a few moments, making Aerion raise his eyebrow, though without warning, he swiftly attacked Aerion, to which he managed to block with his blade, using his strength to push Rodrik away, he was quick for his age, being fifty namedays old and just as fast as one would be in their twenties.
Aerion returned his attack with one of his own, striking at the leg, to which Rodrik also managed to block, however, Aerion used this chance to punch him clean in the face with his left hand, though it did not have much force behind it, only enough to make him stumble.
He would draw himself backwards, grinning at Rodrik as he twirled the sword, his focus though soon went to the viewing balcony, where he noticed the King alongside his Hand, Lyonel Strong, and he soon came to realize many were watching at that point, circling around them.
"That was a cheap move, my prince." Rodrik said, clearly frustrated at being hit, though he answered the attack with one aiming towards Aerion's head from a powerful swing from the right, to which Aerion swiftly ducked beneath the blade, and was only inches away from skimming his head, then he soon took a few steps back again.
"Almost got me there." Aerion replied "I remember you once telling me to use everything to my advantage, Ser Rodrik, even if that means being a little dirty." his eyes drifting back towards the viewing balcony, whispering something into the ear of Lyonel.
Aerion shook his head, drawing his attention back to Rodrik, who was much better defended when Aerion went to attack, blocking every move he attempted, and returning a cheap shot to the face "Now who is fighting dirty, Rodrik?" Aerion replied, chuckling as he wiped the blood from his nose and flicked it onto the ground.
With each strike, it came with another block, and Rodrik raised his sword above his head, striking it down at Aerion, which was met with a hard clash with Aerions' sword, throwing Rodrik off-balance, Aerion used this newly found advantage to kick him directly at his left kneecap, slashing the steel at his waist where no armor protected him, thinly cutting him and then directing the sword at his throat "Yield."
Rodrik released a faint gasp of pain, placing his hands over the open wound and nodding his head to Aerion "I yield, my prince." he replied, sheathing the blade and placing his free hand onto Aerions' shoulder "You are ready." and he patted his shoulder a few times.
"Swallow that pride, Rodrik, then go get that check by the maesters." Aerion commanded, getting a simple nod from Rodrik in return, who then removed his hand from his shoulder and walked off, though Aerion couldn't decide which he injured more, his body or his pride.
Aerion looked around as everyone began to clap, though his attention soon went solely on the King, who was making his way towards him, Aerion sheathed his blade, cupping both hands on the pommel, bowing his head as the king finally reached him "Your Grace."
"There is 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 Aerions' shoulder, leaning in closer "I see you have taken well to my gift." he pointed out the sword "Looking at you now, I could swear it is as if you are your father born-again." his hand went from Aerion's shoulder, guiding his hand up to cup his cheek "We will be having a family dinner tonight…you will join us."
"If that is what you wish, your gra- uncle, I shall be there." Aerion blushed at the King cupping his cheek, never had he felt so much warmth and affection from family, not even his own mother who insists on remaining cold and distant from him.
He gently grabbed his uncles' wrist, slowly pulling it away, making sure he did not cause offense. "May I be excused, uncle, I should get ready for my match, and know that I fight for House Targaryen." The king soon dismissed him, and Aerion journeyed to the Armory.
Aerion wiped his nose on the wrists of his gambeson, blood still slowly dripping from it, and he then entered the armory where his armor had been on display, the final preparations being handled by two squires "I trust it is to your liking, my prince." the armorer asked as he sharpened a sword.
The armor was dragon-scaled black, with the Targaryen sigil completely on display, encrusted with rubies on the breastplate, with Valyrian symbols etched through-out "It is perfect, just what I needed." he looked to the young squires who were finished cleaning "Assist me in putting this on." and they nodded to him, helping him secure each piece to himself.
He soon made his way towards the arena where the duel would be taking place' it was located on the outskirts of Kings' Landing, and rows of tents for the competitors and nobles had been set up, most of who looked at him in awe as he walked past them cladded in his newly fitted armor.
A servant came to get him as he searched for where his tent was, he met Rodrik on the way, still holding his wound, though it had been cared by the maesters, wearing a white cloth around his waste "Feeling better, Rodrik? How does it feel knowing that after all these years, I have managed to wound you?"
"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 armor, perhaps once you win this thing, we will make that true." they chuckled together, and entered his tent, which was rather lavish, with a fur rug covering the floor, a canopy bed, and a table full of fruit, aswell as a desk for when he wished to write to anyone.
"You really think I can win? I've seen the list, there are much greater knights than myself taking part." Aerion replied, with a small ounce of doubt in him, and Rodrik took a seat at the foot of the canopy, unclipping the sheath that held his sword and placing it between the legs.
"There are, though I doubt most have the drive that you have." they shared warm look at eachother "You know, I am reminded about when you were just a little boy, and I tried telling you legends about House Royce, but you only ever wanted to know more about the Targaryens, you loved the stories about Aegon the Conqueror and Maegor."
"I remember, I used to drive you mad, and Willam as well." he chuckled "Any words of encouragement?"
"When you are facing down your opponent, you aren't up against them, you are clearing a path to whats behind them, your ultimate goal." he replied "I believe you will win, but believe in yourself." Aerion rolled his eyes, knowing he shouldn't have asked but Rodrik rose from the canopy and launched a fist at Aerion's heart, making him stumble slightly "You know what you need to do."
"That..was rather dramatic." he replied coldly, rubbing his hand on his chest "though I thank you, I hope to prove to you I am prepared to be a knight." he walked over to the bowl of fruit, grabbing an orange, and began to peel it, taking a huge bite out of it once he did, before a boy no older than ten entered the tent, bowing to the prince.
"My Prince, I have been told to inform you that your match will be up next, they request you make your way over to the arena now." and the kid paced out of the tent, clearly in a rush.
"Well then, let us get to it, shall we?" he looked towards Rodrik, before whispering to himself in Valyrian "The Blood of the Dragon will see me victorious." and then he was passed a closed helmet by Rodrik to go with the rest of his armor, it had the dragons' wings on either side of the helmet, with the Valyrian symbols for 'Fire' and 'Blood' etched onto the forehead for everyone to see.
The arena was crowded with people from all over the realm, the king sat in a viewing chamber made of stone with some of his small council members and other important men at court, though his eyes were set upon one of great beauty, and he felt immediately enamored by her, all he knew was that she was Valyrian, sharing the same platinum-blonde hair as his own.
He looked at Rodrik, tapping him on the arm and then nudging his head towards the girl when he got his attention "Who is that?"
"Oh, that would be the Princess Rhaenyra, the Kings' daughter and heir, and your cousin ofcourse." He couldn't take her eyes off her as he waited to be introduced "though you may know her better as The Realm's Delight." he had not seen someone as beautiful before, and he seemed to have gained her eye as well.
"Well it is nice to finally put a face to the name." he said, before raising his arms in the air as he entered the fighting arena, getting the attention of the crowd, a large smile on his face as they screamed in joy; excited to see how the duel unfolds.
He looked across to his opponent, who stood half a foot taller than he and wore bulky plated armor underneath a brown tabard with the sigil of a red stallion on a golden shield, representing House Bracken.
Aerion further analyzed his opponent, watching his movements as he walked into the arena. The knight was considerably slow, something that he could use to his advantage, however, the knight wielded a great sword which he definitely needed to watch out for.
He found himself drawing his attention from his opponent back towards the viewing box, his eyes solely focused on the Princess, who was fidgeting with a pendant around her neck in the shape of a three-rounded circle intertwined with a ruby center.
Aerion couldn't explain the feeling he had as he looked to her, it was as if an energy radiated around her, drawing him in, he almost forgot where he was at that moment until the announcer came in between the two fighters, his attention returning back to his opponent, who gave a cold and fearless stare.
"Lords! Ladies! It is time for a duel that is certainly going to be entertaining!" The announcer yelled, ensuring everyone had his attention "Prince Aerion of House Targaryen, Heir to Runestone, will now be battling against Ser Brandon of House Bracken." he quickly nodded to both fighters "Let us give them a cheer!" he waved his hands in the air, and the crowd roared in response, the announcer soon exciting the area.
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, shutting out all the noise from the crowd, and solely focusing on his opponent and their movements.
His opponent lifted the great sword above his left shoulder, holding the hilt with both hands "I have always wanted to face a Targaryen, I will enjoy this." and he directed the sword down upon Aerion, aiming towards his head to which Aerion was quick to dodge; pushing himself backwards, and began circling the knight.
Aerion toyed with the knight, slithering away at each of his attacks, making the knight get out of breath fairly quickly "I am sorry to disappoint, Ser Brandon, but you certainly won't be enjoying this."
The attacks became more frequent, and he could see the knight was slowly losing his patience "You must be a disappointment to your family, a Targaryen without a dragon, how truly pathetic that is." his opponent struck air once more as Aerion shifted around him, lifting his blade and digging it into the back of the knights' kneecap, and all he heard were screams of pain coming from him.
"What was that you were saying?" he said, slamming his boot into the back of his neck, making him drop to his stomach "I couldn't exactly hear you." he walked over the man and lifted up his head slightly by his hair.
"I yield." the knight pleaded as Aerion placed his blade up against his neck.
"Oh, you do now?" he chuckled "You are not so confident of insulting me, are you?" he looked around at the crowd, they were mostly silent now save a few cheers, though he soon focused on the Princess "Do you have any last words, Ser Brandon?"
"Last words, but I Yie -" his words were cut short by Aerion slitting mercilessly slitting the mans' throat, receiving a loud gasp followed by mumbles came from the stands, he stepped away from the cold body, looking almost pleased as he gazed up towards the King, who had a look that could only be described as horrified.
He looked to the Princess, who looked almost pleased and impressed, the complete opposite to those surrounding her, he bowed his head as he walked up closer to the viewing box, to which the Princess rose up from her seat and came close to the railing, planting her hands on it.
Aerion raised his sword to the princess, a smile on his face, seemingly not moved at all from the life he had taken "May I have your favor, Princess?" it would be honored to fight for the Realm's Delight." Rhaenyra glanced at her father, who was still shaking his head in disbelief.
"I look forward to seeing you win, Cousin." she threw a long piece of red silk towards, to which he caught in his hand, pulling it towards his face, and placing his lips against it as he winked to the princess, moving to wrap the silk around his upper right arm, securing it.
"I will be sure to not disappoint you, Princess." he turned to the crowd and lifted his arms in victory, to which they cheered him out of the arena, glancing towards the king one last time before heading over to Rodrik, who did not look particularly pleased by Aerions' actions.
Aerion placed his bloodied hands on his shoulder "Like you said, I knew what needed to be done." an evil grin crossing his lips, and patting Rodriks' shoulder then wiping the blood of his enemy across his face, making him appear to be more menacing than before.