The great hall of the Red Keep was adorned with opulence and splendour, illuminated by the warm glow of countless torches and flickering candles, casting shadows across the marbled stone floor.
There was a long top table, which stood beneath the Iron Throne, was lined with delicacies from all across the known world fit for the royal family, golden platters showcased roasted swans and peacocks, their feather still glistening with a hint of their former glory, and succulent hams, glazed with honey and adorned with cloves, beckoned with their enticing aroma.
Goblets of the finest silver were arranged in precise order, reflecting the light in a dazzling display, with rich Arbor Red and Gold wines, as well as the finest from Dorne and even across the Narrow Sea in Pentos and Braavos, filled the goblets, their hues shimmering like gemstones.
Aerion stood tall and commanding, dressed in black and red adorned with the distinctive dragon motifs that marked him as a member of House Targaryen, wearing the pendant around his neck which adorned the Royce sigil, his lilac eyes sparkling with a mix of confidence and determination.
He surveyed the Great Hall, his heart swelled with pride and excitement, the feast was to celebrate his newly acquired knighthood and his return to the Red Keep, it felt good knowing that everyone had gathered to honour him.
King Viserys sat at the head of the table, overlooking the two long tables that stretched from the great door to the steps, his regal presence commanding attention to all those who beheld him, to his right sat the Princess Rhaenyra, radiant in her Targaryen black and red gown, her pregnancy clearly visible, and too the King's left sat his wife, Queen Alicent and even little Aegon sat beside her.
What he had not noticed before was that the Queen also appeared to be pregnant, though not as far along as Rhaenyra,
The lords and ladies filled the hall with an air of anticipation and excitement, they engaged in lively conversation, exchanging pleasantries and discussing the latest news from their respective lands, the atmosphere was one of celebration.
Aerion took a seat by Rhaenyra, she was the very vision of regal beauty in their Targaryen colours, her silver-gold hair cascaded gracefully over her shoulders, her violet eyes sparked with mischief as they shared a warm glance to one another.
"To think I am usually the centre of attention at these gatherings, but not today, these people are here to celebrate your victories." Rhaenyra smiled "No doubt my father will want to say a few words shortly."
"I could do without them all focusing on me." Aerion chuckled "But I must say, having you at my side certainly adds to the joy of the evening."
Her cheeks flushed slightly, and she tried to suppress the smile hidden behind her lips "Well you flatter me, Aerion." she said, her voice softening "But it is you who deserves all the praise right now."
The hall was filled with the vibrant chatter of Lords and Ladies, their lively discourse weaving a tapestry of stories and intrigue, even the King, engrossed in a deep exchange with the shrewd Lyonel Strong, added to the hum of the crowd.
Amid the bustling noise, a bubble tranquillity encased Aerion and Rhaenyra, granting them a precious moment of solitude amidst the field of vipers and rats.
"Your former sworn shield has been casting glances my way for a while now." Aerion said, leaning towards Rhaenyra, their shoulders brushing "Perhaps my tongue wagged a bit too freely in the courtyard earlier." his words were tinged with subtle humour, a hint of smiling playing on his lips.
Rhaenyra's violet eyes, reflecting her confusion, flitted to him. However, his light-hearted observation was abruptly cut short by a sudden, firm kick under the table. "What was that for?" he exclaimed, moreso surprised than in pain.
"We mustn't draw attention." she whispered tersely, her gaze darting around the room, her instinctive caution reminding of the game they were perpetually entwined in "Should he tell anyone else of what happened between us, it will be further used against me."
He opened his mouth to reassure her, but before any words could escape, a resonant clang silenced the hall, the king rose from his chair, a goblet in hand, and tapping his utensil against the crystal, a sharp sound reverberating throughout the room, claiming the attention of the nobles present.
"Esteemed Lords and Ladies." the King's voice echoed powerfully, washing over the room, as potent as the crashing waves against Dragonstone. "Tonight, we gather not just to feast, but to honour a remarkable young man amongst us - my nephew, Prince Aerion."
"In a breathtakingly short span of time." the King carried on, his voice imbued with a mix of admiration and pride "he has accomplished feats worthy of our ancestors' songs."
"He has tamed one of the greatest dragons of our era, a beast formidable in size and spirit, a testament to his unyielding courage and will." the crowd murmured in agreement, a buzz of excitement threading through the room.
"He reclaimed his birthright, the ancient seat of Runestone, wrestling it from the clutches of traitors, a demonstration of his strategic prowess and indomitable strength."
"And now he stands before us, not just as a prince, but as an esteemed knight of our magnificent realm. An accolade truly earned, and testament to his unwavering dedication to our ideals and principles." The king's words resonated throughout the hall, each one a shining tribute to Aerion's journey and achievements.
"His deeds are not merely the product of luck, but of a valiant heart, a determined spirit, and a mind as sharp as Valyrian steel." the King said, his words still ringing with profound admiration.
The king paused once more, his gaze meeting Aerion's, and a silent moment passed between them, a tacit understanding, a shared pride.
"Let us all raise our cups." the King declared, lifting his goblet high "To Prince Aerion, a knight of the realm, Lord of Runestone, and a man of the people."
As one, the assembly rose, goblets held high, a sea of sparkling crystal under the torchlight, the hall echoed with a chorus of "To Prince Aerion!", the cheers ringing loud and clear, resounding off the stoned walls and vaulted ceiling.
Aerion's gaze met Rhaenyra for a short moment, there was pride in her eyes, and love, and in that moment, everything else faded into insignificance.
He rose to his feet, his heart was steeled, his gaze now steady and resolute, reflecting the quiet dignity of a man humbly acknowledging the honour bestowed upon him, yet beneath the facade of humility, his mind was a whirlwind of concealed ambition and intricate plans.
"The King honours me with his words and my newly found title." he intoned, his voice rippling through the great hall, his humble demeanour was masterfully crafted, however he analysed each man and woman as a player in the game he had embarked on, weighing their potential worth and loyalty to Rhaenyra.
His speech wove an enchanting tale of collective victories, shared strength, and unity, his audience absorbed his every word, entranced by the camaraderie he championed, but to Aerion, it was mere tool to further his own goals, and placate the many.
"In our realm, strength and courage are a shared bounty." he proclaimed, reinforcing the trust they all had in one another, and with a raise of his goblet, he toasted to a shared future, and the crowd were eating it all up, responding with resounding cheers, a symphony of agreement that reverberated through the stoned walls.
As the applause gradually subsided, he planted himself back down onto his seat, turning to his side, meeting Rhaenyra's eyes, there was an unmistakable warmth in her stare, a sparkle that spoke volumes of her love from him, a connection he cherished, he met that very gaze, his own eyes reflecting the same deep affection and respect.
Throughout the night, he played the loyal prince to perfection, with every laugh shared, every nod at council member's suggestions, he was moving one step closer to seeing Rhaenyra rule the seven kingdoms once the King had passed.
Despite all the machinations and intricate plots that consumed his mind, his feelings for Rhaenyra were true and genuine, she was the sole anchor that kept him ground amidst the sea of political manoeuvring and deceit that happened within the halls of the Red Keep, to play the game, he had to be better at it than the vipers who would seek to destroy his family.
As Aerion reached for his goblet, a hush fell over the hall, and all eyes turned towards the entrance. Standing in the doorway, under the looming shadow of the hall's massive entry arch, was a figure the prince hadn't expected to see, Alwyn Royce, his cousin and the son of Gunthor Royce.
He was no longer the boy Aerion had remembered him as, but a young man hardened by life's harsh realities, his youthful innocence replaced with a stern countenance that mirrored his late father's.
Alwyn moved with a determined pace towards the high table, his steel-blue eyes, so like his father's, fixed on Aerion. He had an aura of intensity about him, a palpable force of unresolved anger and grief. The room remained hushed, the usual merriment of the feast replaced by an uneasy anticipation.
"Prince Aerion." he began, his voice strong, the respectful title belying the contempt beneath his words "I'm afraid I must interrupt this joyous occasion. I find it necessary to discuss a matter that has been ignored for far too long."
"And what would that be exactly?" Aerion asked, the hall seemed to hold its collective breath, and Aerion felt a small hand clutch his beneath the table, Rhaenyra's reassuring grip a subtle show of support.
"You are being hailed as a hero." Alwyn's words were sharp, his tone unyielding "But I see you for what you are, a usurper, and a murderer."
A collective gasp echoed throughout the hall at Alwyn's accusation. Yet, Aerion remained calm, he knew this moment would eventually come, he had prepared for it, anticipated the reckoning that he would one day have to face. Alwyn had every right to his anger, his grief.
"Yes, I reclaimed Runestone." Aerion responded, his voice even "In the process, I killed your father. But I did not usurp, I reclaimed what was rightfully mine, what was taken from me." he gaze never left Alwyn's, his words echoed with the quiet certainty of his conviction.
Alwyn's jaw tightened "And what of my father's right? The right to live? Or does that not matter in your quest for power?" his words were like ice, hard and cutting
The hall was silent, hanging onto every word of the unfolding confrontation, Aerion took a deep breath, his mind racing as he formulated a response where he could still come out on top and not destroy the reputation he had built up.
In this crucial moment, Aerion found his thoughts drifting to Rhaenyra, to the future they hoped to one day share, he had been drawn into this dance of politics and power, one he hadn't chosen to partake in, but that he started to enjoy, and it would be one that he finished, for the sake of Rhaenyra, and their future child.
"I regret the loss of life." he said quietly, his voice carrying across the room "I did not desire your father's death. But it was one that he had coming to him, when one tries to usurp another's home, they must be prepared to deal with the consequences, that is the harsh reality of our world, Alwyn, one of which most in this room were born into."
The hall remained silent as Aerion's words lingered in the air. The confrontation wasn't over, not by a long shot, but for now, the hall was held in a precarious balance, a simmering tension underlying the resumption of the feast.
"You are Targaryen, Runestone belongs to House Royce." Alwyn replied, his hand gripping tightly onto his sword, his eyes still locked onto Aerion's "We are in the realm of honour and justice, you claim your supposed birthright, and I claim mine."
The audacity of his statement hung in the air, Alwyn's challenge was laid bare for all to witness "I challenge you, Aerion Targaryen, to a duel at sunrise. Justice for my father's death."
A duel, a fight to the death, it was a game-changer, an opportunity to prove his mettle, to cement his reputation even further, to show the lords and ladies the steel that lay beneath his charm.
He met Alwyn's gaze squarely, allowing a trace of a smile to touch his lips "I accept your challenge, Alwyn." he responded, his voice unyielding "At sunrise, we will meet in the amphitheatre, and all will bear witness as I claim victory."
His declaration echoed in the grand hall, etching itself into the minds of the nobility, and the king rose from his seat, his gaze sweeping over the hushed crowd "Let it be known." he announced, his voice carrying the weight of his authority "That Prince Aerion and Alwyn Royce shall settle their disputes according to the ancient law of this land, this duel will be a matter of honour."
He was looking forward to the challenge, he would face the dawn with a sword in hand, prepared for the dance of death that awaited, his resolve was unwavering, his spirit unquenched. He would fight, not just for survival, but because he loved the adrenaline being on one swing of the sword away from death.
Alwyn gave a curt bow, his gaze never wavering from Aerion. In silence, he turned on his heel and strode out of the hall, leaving behind him a wake of whispers and shared glances among the nobility, the heavy wooden doors closed behind him with a thud, echoing Alwyn's parting promise to the silent court.
Aerion watched as he left, his thoughts already racing with tactics and strategies, an innate part of him relishing the forthcoming battle of wits and steel, he knew the fight wouldn't be easy, Alwyn was a formidable opponent, though Aerion remained unflinching, his resolve as solid as Valyrian Steel itself.
He turned his attention back to Rhaenyra, her wide violet eyes searching his lilac, he read the fear in them, the uncertainty, he squeezed her hand beneath the table, offering a reassuring smile as their shoulders brushed once more.
"It's quite alright, Rhaenyra." he said softly, his voice barely audible over the murmurs of the crowd "I'll be fine."
With the final toast of the evening echoing in the air, Aerion excused himself from the high table, moving through the crowd, he nodded at familiar faces and exchanged pleasantries, the facade of the amiable prince firmly in place.
Finally, he reached the heavy doors of the throne hall, as they opened, there was a sense of relief that washed over him, he no longer had to act, he could be himself, he left the sounds of the feast behind and made his way towards his private chambers.
As he entered, the warm glow of candlelight danced upon the walls, casting long shadows that swayed with the flickering flames. On his desk, a piece of parchment was propped up against the ornate candle holder.
There was an unknown seal, a worm to be exact, he broke it, and unfurled the parchment, the words written in a precise, measured hand, he was to meet someone known as 'The White Worm' at a manse on the edge of town near to the Street of Silk, the missive was brief, with no explanation or further details.
His curiosity piqued, and Aerion donned a black cloak, its hood deep enough to shadow his face, and slipped out of his chambers into the labyrinth which was the Red Keep's secret tunnels.
The manse was discreet, two-storied structure, its exterior shrouded in creeping ivy, with an air of quiet dignity, Anonymity was its cloak in the bustling street of silk, where conspicuousness was the common theme, knocking lightly on a oak door, he was ushered in by a servant.
The interior was a stark contrast to its humble exterior. Luxurious Myrish rugs covered the floors, and the walls were adorned with intricate tapestries. The rich smell of incense pervaded the air, giving the place an almost ethereal feel.
In the central hall, by a hearth crackling with a comfortable fire, sat a woman, she looked up as he entered, her eyes glinting into the firelight "Aerion." she said by way of greeting, as if they had already known each other.
"Do I know you?" he asked.
She was of an age with his father, Daemon, yet her beauty was timeless, a cascade of silver-gold hair fell down her back, shimmering in the firelight, and her lilac eyes held an ageless wisdom.
"I had the pleasure of knowing your father well, though this is the first time that you and I meet." she acknowledged, her voice smooth as silk.
"I see, A letter at this late hour?" Aerion replied, shrugging off his cloak and moving to take the seat opposite her "That's unusual, I presume."
"The matter was urgent and could not wait." she began, her tone was grave "I have discovered that there is a target on your back, set by the Queen, or rather those that remain in her service to see Aegon on the throne." she continued "It would appear they are not just content with undermining you at court."
"Explain," he said coldly.
"The Greens are restless, Aerion." the White Worm began, her lilac eyes reflecting the dancing flames of the hearth "your victories have stirred them up, made them see you as a bigger threat than before." she paused, her gaze drifting towards the roaring fire "They plan to strike at you, not through open challenges like Alwyn Royce, but in a manner more subtle, and infinitely more deadly."
Aerion wondered how she could have this information, Alwyn had only just challenged him not long before, her contacts were clearly swift in making sure she stayed informed.
"Their aim is not to discredit you, but to erase you entirely." Aerion listened, a chill settling in his veins "They have an assassin.." she continued, her voice a whisper barely louder than the crackling fire. "A faceless man from Braavos. He's here in Kings' Landing, biding his time, waiting for the perfect time to strike."
Aerion's mind raced as he processed her words, The Faceless Men were notorious assassins known for their skill and ruthlessness. Their services came at a high price, demonstrating just how desperate the Greens must be to rid the Princess of a powerful ally.
"And how exactly do you know all this?" Aerion asked, studying her with a newfound curiosity, there was a penetrating sharpness to his gaze, probing for signs of deception. The White Worm's knowledge was unsettlingly precise, hinting at sources deeply embedded within The Red Keep.
She tilted her head slightly, the faintest of smiles curling her lips "I have my sources, Prince Aerion. Let us just say the walls of the Red Keep have ears, and there are those who owe me favours. I've always known what to listen and collect what is owed."
His heart pounded in his chest, a symphony of fear, anticipation, and oddly, excitement. The duel that was once a platform for honour, now resembled a well-crafted death trap, the faceless man could attack anywhere and quick enough for him to not even react.
"Your victories have already made you a hero in the eyes of men and children alike." the White Worm mused, leaning back against her chair. The amber flames reflected in her eyes, making them appear otherworldly. "This act against you can destroy everything you have built, and throw your allies in chaos."
Aerion leaned back in his seat, his mind in a whirlwind of thoughts, it was a game of thrones and shadows, where he was both the player and the prize. However, he now had the means to turn the tide. The realisation was daunting, yet it sparked a flame of defiance in him.
"I've heard tales of the Faceless men of Braavos." he tapped his finger against the chair "How am I to possibly beat them?"
"To deal with them you must be cunning, unyielding, and most importantly, unpredictable."
Aerion hung over her every word, this was unfamiliar territory for him; he was a warrior, a knight trained in the art of war. He did play the games that assassins did, and yet it was what he needed to become to survive.
"We have to give them a reason to not fulfil their contract." she continued, her gaze finally moving from the flames to meet Aerion's "The Faceless Men are not loyal to the cause of their employers. They are only loyal to the Many-Faced God. and while they do not fear death, they fear His Wrath."
Understanding dawned on Aerion. If they could somehow convince the Faceless Man that killing him would displease the Many-Faced God, he would abandon his mission. It was a long shot, but it was better than nothing.
"But how do we do that?" Aerion asked "How do we convince him that my death will displease his god?"
"We will need to weave a tale." The White Worm's eyes sparkled with a dangerous gleam, the faint smile remaining on her lips "A story so convincing that not even the most discerning could its truth, A store where you are just a prince of the realm, but an instrument of the Many-Faced God himself."
"A compelling story.." Aerion muttered "What if we were to use prophecy?" he suggested, an idea starting to form in his mind "Gaelithox is no common beast, he is powerful, majestic, unlike any dragon seen for centuries, what if we were to create a prophecy, one that ties my fate with his?"
"A new prophecy, with a dragon at its centre." a low chuckle escaped her lips as she crossed her arms over her chest "It's bold, Aerion. And bold may be exactly what we need."
"We could claim that a dragon of Gaelithox's grandeur only chooses a rider destined for greatness, for a purpose far beyond mere worldly power." Aerion's mind continued to race "He was already known as the dragon who could not be tamed before I did."
A sense of accomplishment filled Aerion, it was a dangerous gamble, but one that he felt was worth taking "That settles it." he said, a newfound resolve in his voice "We'll create a tale so grand, it will sway even the Faceless Man."
As the night grew darker, they continued their discussion deep into the early hours of the morning, plotting and planning, setting the stage for the most important performances of their lives. Their audience was an assassin, and their goal was nothing less than survival.
And so, in the secretive shadows of the manse, a new tale was born. A tale of a prince and his dragon, their destinies intertwined, and their fate sealed by the gods themselves. This was the story they would sell to the people, the story that would determine whether he was to live or die.
The room fell into an eloquent silence as the final strands of their discussion reached its climax. Mysariah settled back in her chair, her gaze meandering towards the open window where the earliest glimmers of dawn were making a gentle foray, casting an ethereal glow upon Kings' Landing.
"For this to work, we will have to be as cunning as the fox and as as the shadowcat. This story needs to spread, and fast. To the ears of the commoners, the noble lords and ladies, and even to the ears within the silent walls of the House of Black and White."
The two set about devising a multi-pronged approach to spread their fabricated tale. Their plan relied heavily on one of the most potent weapons in their arsenal, words, they understood that once the words were out into the world, it would be impossible for them to put them back.
Firstly, they would need to leverage the realm's minstrels and poets, notoriously known for their love of intrigue and drama. The White Worm knew of a few renowned bards who frequented her establishments upon the Street of Silk. They would subtly introduce the story to them, appealing to their creative instincts. The prospect of crafting an epic ballad around a dragon prince, a secret instrument of the Many-Faced God, would surely be irresistible to them.
Secondly, they would use The White Worm's trusted sources to circulate the tale amongst the nobility. These were to be men and women who could vouch for the truth of the story, she knew exactly what ears would then filter into every lord, lady, knight, and servant in the city.
Lastly, to reach the general populace, they would need to employ the services of town criers. The tale of Aerion's divine mandate would be proclaimed in every square, every market, every tavern in Kings' Landing, until it became common knowledge.
"This only leaves one more question." he said, something had been in the back of his mind ever since the start of their conversation "You've given me invaluable information, a plan…but what do you get out of all this?"
"A fair question to ask." she responded "I'm no altruist, nor am I particularly fond of the Targaryens in general." she paused for a moment, her gaze softening "I loved your father deeply many years ago, he was a storm in human form, unpredictable yet alluring, the same traits I see in you."
"That is very touching, though it does not answer my question." Aerion insisted.
"In your union to Rhaenyra, I see the promise of a future I could believe in. A future where the realm can flourish under wise and just leadership."
"Rhaenyra is the Heir, she has a mind for politics and a heart for her people. Your love for her is evident, and it is a powerful thing." Aerion raised a brow, the White Worm continued to impress him in the information she had gathered "I see the possibility of a reign that could bring prosperity, not just to the noblemen, but for the people in who built this realm."
"My spies tell me that the King's health is failing, and we need a ruler who can make decisions for the people, not a puppet king, a child on the throne with scheming hands in every corner of the court, guiding and controlling the realm as per their whims." she continued, her tone growing colder.
Aerion found her honesty disconcerting but respected it all the same "Your assistance has been much appreciated." he acknowledged "Let us ensure that it shapes a future where we all come out on top."
With those words hanging in the air, their meeting drew to a close. The future remained uncertain, but Aerion was willing to do anything to make sure both he and Rhaenyra remained alive with their child soon to come.