A man stands on a beach looking out to the open water.
The man appeared in his thirties, lean and tall with piercing violet eyes. His hair was the color of onyx, all but a single stripe color of silver, long and braided which went down to the small of his back. All would say he was handsome if not for the scar on the right side of his face, fresh from a recent battle.
His face was worn, shadows beneath his eyes indicating a lack of sleep which was rare nowadays due to the conflict warping the Realm into two.
This face was that of Aerion Targaryen, the son of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce.
It was years ago but he was not always so war-worn, he was once a young and thriving youth... But that was the beginning of his family's issues.
He was not born of love or duty, no, he was born of a forced marriage made by the Conciliator's wife and his great-grandmother, Alysanne Targaryen.
A match made to give her grandson some form of independence, to temper his unruly will and growing boldness.
His father was six and ten, and his mother was four years his senior at twenty. Both said the words, and made the vow but scorn was all they had for they had not liked nor loved one another.
Aerion's own grandfather, Prince Baelon or as some called him Baelon the Brave, the rider of Vhagar was there to see the bedding was done and he had to admit he was both thankful and hateful of it.
Many months later, Aerion's cries would echo the halls of Runestone- The place which once might have been his seat.
It should have been a celebrated day, one for all to hear but he had gained scorn from the womb he came from and the man who would distance himself from Runestone day by day.
And when Jaehaerys and Baelon died, he wouldn't see his father for years.
Yet his sire gave him a name to recognize his heritage, naming him Aerion Targaryen, father of Aegon the Conquerer.
As he grew up, he maintained a slender build, He preferred his hair cut short and his eyes brimmed like that of cut amethyst. He took inspiration from his ancestor, Visenya, he would wear black ringmail and a surcoat with a four-sided coat of arms mixing Royce and Targaryen into it.
He had to say, he was a tall boy for thirteen that some might go further and say his tallness came not from his father but his mother.
It was his way of finding some comfort where he would find none with his parents, despite trying over the last thirteen years to love them both as he would always tell himself they were his blood, something even his father deems most sacred.
He studied history, from both the First Men and his Valyrian culture whenever his father would grace him with a visit or a gift sent via ship or messenger, he knew more than anything that his father wished to give him an egg but Jaehaerys had forbidden it and he assumes his uncle Viserys did the same.
"Ahh!" Aerion roared and disarmed his distant cousin, Gunthor. "I win again, coz." He said with a smirk.
"That you do, my Prince." Prince? It was a strange word.
He hasn't seen the Red Keep or the city of King's Landing, he's never looked upon the Iron Throne or gone into the Dragonpit to claim a dragon.
Yet because he has been named Aerion Targaryen till the day he becomes Lord of Runestone, the people call him Prince.
Looking up to the balcony, he saw his mother looking down on him.
His mother is a mature woman, to him she was pretty but to his father... He refers to her as his Bronze Bitch, a name he either hoped his mother would hear of or simply doesn't care.
'The sheep are prettier.' This is another quote his father was heard to have said and when his mother found out, she went on a tirade wishing she had killed him than bed him that night.
That she wished he hadn't put a baby inside her, that he wasn't conceived.
It hurt as a small boy of eight name days, it hurt even more when his mother distanced herself whenever she was feeling a particularly certain way.
"Aerion?" Maester Gwaryn called, "Your Lady Mother has asked you to join her in her solar."
Maester Gwaryn is a home-born Valemen from the House of Waynwood. Four and forty name days and obtained all of his chains at the Citadel in Oldtown, he didn't know Maester Faendal too much as he was three when he died and Maester Gwaryn would come back to his home region to serve House Royce.
It was Gwaryn who helped him learn more High Valyrian, in his vein hope to one day ride a dragon of his own like his father had Caraxes or his aunt Rhaenys who rides Meleys the Red Queen.
'My mother could have told me this... '
A sigh left the young man and walked inside the keep heading for the solar, his mother sat next to his uncle Gerold who is the father of Gunthor and head of a smaller branch of House Royce.
"Took long enough, refresh yourself before coming?" His mother chided him and his finger twitched, yet he let it go.
His Uncle Gerold greeted him cheerfully, "Hello, lad, it's been some time?" It has, been more than a year.
Gerold Royce is Captain of the Guard in the Eyrie where his grandfather, Yorbert Royce rules as the regent to Lady Jeyne Arryn who was the only child of Lord Jace Arryn after his young son died in the cradle.
"You called me, Mother?" He said with his hands behind his back and spine straightened like a good soldier, something drilled into him by his strict mother, even his father had expectations of him despite hardly being here.
"I did," His mother rose from her seat and approached him, inspecting his posture, "I swear if only you were all of me instead of half... " She said this mournfully as if it were a tragedy.
'He was half a dragon and half a man', some would say as his hair was dark with a sliver of silver brilliance, a malformation of the blood playing tug of war with him as he was being grown in his mother.
Though, to him, he would say it was his parent's loathing of one another which defined what he looked like.
Rhea Royce held up a raven scroll, and his eyes widened upon seeing the waxed sigil of House Targaryen. "Your bastard of a father has requested you come to King's Landing." It was a surprise to be sure.
"He... Want's me at the city?" He asked, thinking the scenario of this even being possible a dream, a fantasy.
His mother looked disappointed that he would say it with such hope, "Until the King bears a son, your father remains the uncontested heir and as his son, Daemon brought up the fact that you should be his Grace's cupbearer."
To which his Grace must have agreed to, "When am I to leave?" He inquired and got a scornful stare from his mother.
A few hours later he was dressed for travel, a copper-colored doublet and a grey cloak with furs. He strapped his sword to his hip along with a dagger, his best riding shoes for the journey laced and prepared.
He hoisted himself on his steed, a brown courser with a black mane, the standard of House Royce covered the back.
Uncle Gerold rode to his side, "We should reach the Eyrie in no time, a day or so, Nephew." He hummed and took the reins of his horse and led on the small troop of travelers heading West.
His mother bade him take the Highroad from the Bloody Gate and follow the Kingsroad to King's Landing, her way of sticking it to Daemon by robbing him of as many days as possible than the short voyage it would have been by taking a ship from Gulltown.
She did bid him farewell before leaving for the stables, reminding him that when in the courts he represents House Royce and is to serve the King and Queen with duty, honor, and respect.
Before truly beginning, however, they are to make a trip to the Eyrie.
For what? He has no idea but he is sure to find out soon enough.
It took a day in a half to reach the mountain stronghold of House Arryn, he and his uncle stayed at Ironoaks and were guests of Lord Wyman Waynwood then had an uneventful trip through the Gates of the Moon and up the forts before ascending the wicker basket.
He hasn't been here since he was seven, the last time was to celebrate one of Lady Jeyne's name days.
It was a long way down below.
Reaching the top, he entered through the Moon Door and brushed himself as Alyssa's Tears gotten his cloak slightly wet.
"Prince Aerion, welcome to the Eyrie, will you come with me?" A guard requested and he followed with his uncle trailing as the man led them to the High Hall where two weirwood thrones stood empty.
His Grandfather descended the stairs.
Yorbert Royce was a robust man in his sixties, strong with no hair atop his head and a mustache. The Regent of the Vale scanned him for a moment before smiling, "Good to see you, Aerion, you are growing big for your age." His grandfather commented and he smiled, accepting it.
"Thank, Lord Regent, Mother sends her love." It was a lie, all his years and his mother hardly showed signs of love. "I am to go to King's Landing and serve the King but she bid me come here, first."
"Actually, it was I who asked you to come, follow me and we shall see her Ladyship together." Jeyne? He reluctantly followed his grandfather to the godswood.
The Godswood in Runestone is ancient but not a grove like a House in the North and the weirwood there sadly was cut during the final years when House Royce submitted to Andal rule.
Here, however, in the Eyrie it looks more like a garden to contemplate and enjoy one's time together or alone than to worship and pray.
"My Lady Jeyne, allow me to introduce my daughter's son and Prince, Aerion Targaryen."
Lady Jeyne Arryn turned and he almost let a gasp escape him, she was a beautiful maid even at fourteen. Her eyes reminded him of the clear sky on a cloudless night, her hair rung like half of his own.
Beside her must be one of her attending ladies, her red hair like that of oranges and the eyes of emeralds.
"Lady Arryn, you are radiant." He complimented with a bow.
"Jessamyn, Lord Yorbert can you leave us?" She said suddenly and only they were alone did she address him, "Should I refer to you as Lord Aerion or Prince Aerion?"
"It's a matter of debate, my father is the brother of King Viserys, heir apparent so Prince Aerion may be the best option... " He jest but she remained tight-lipped and approached him, "My Grandfather called me here, might you know why that is?" He'd rather get this out of the way.
"Follow me, Prince Aerion." She held out her arm, he took it gently as they walked off. "As you know, I am my father's only child, a woman, and I know this isn't something my bannermen enjoy being reminded of."
He understands, especially as Lord Arnold Arryn has coveted the title since Lord Jace's passing. "Rest assured, my Lady that should Arnold Arryn try to press his imagined claim that House Royce, and even House Targaryen will stand by you."
Queen Aemma ties them together, as Jace's half-sister which makes Jeyne the Queen's niece.
Jeyne seemed relieved by that but frowned a moment after she smiled, "As much as I appreciate it, that isn't what I am seeking." They stopped and Aerion was half confused and half dreading what she intends, "I know marrying means I am risking my authority over the Vale to my husband and consort, whoever that may be but I would rather choose who it is."
"So you would have me? What does that mean for my mother's House, for Runestone?" He asked and she smiled again.
The woman was a bright one, she seems to know what game that's being played.
"I have spoken to Yorbert about this, should we bear more than two sons then one may rule here and one shall take on Runestone. You are Targaryen, a House which holds the ability to ride dragons."
"I have yet to try to claim one, Lady Arryn." He sighed thinking it is about dragons, it's always about dragons right now.
Dragons are power made into flesh, a Lord can be as influential or have as many armies and generals but it takes one or three dragons to take that away.
And Jeyne Arryn would wish to have one in the event her ambitious cousins try to take what is hers...
"Very well, my Lady. You will have my hand, and my blood." He took Jeyne's hand in his and placed a kiss upon it, "If the Gods are fortunate enough to keep the King and Queen from bearing a son, we may need three sons." She first was confused but chuckled knowing what he meant.
One for the Eyrie. One for Runestone... And one to sit the Iron Throne.
Aerion upon reaching the agreement made it known by the witness of Jeyne's Maester Rylon and her friend Jessamyn Redfort, the same with him and his grandfather and uncle.
He stayed in the Eyrie for two nights, leaving at dawn down the Highroad towards the Riverlands.
Oh for sure he is to hear his father disagree, mayhaps that he'd refute it but he isn't the Lord of Runestone and his mother has all but deigned he be Lord of the Vale and consort to Jeyne Arryn.
He might as well make the best of things rather than fight them.
This is the only revision as I don't want to normalize doing this but I feel I've rushed the original version, not enough character development and we had gone three years into the story already so I went back and revised it.
Aerion feels not like Daemon's son in the last version so this one will have a cunning rather than wholly honorable.
I do hope this revision outmatches the original.