Prince Aerion had fallen into a routine after the last couple of days, whenever he was not training or competing in the tourney, he spent his time in the company of the princess Rhaenyra, desperate to learn everything he could about her.
She had a love for jewellery, fine silks, balls and tourneys. Rhaenyra went riding on her beloved Syrax almost everyday, a magnificent she-dragon with yellow scales, every bit as formidable as the princess, speeding through the skies above King's Landing for everyone to see.
The prince shared details of his childhood at Runestone, not that there was any to speak of in his opinion, he much preferred to listen and learn more of her than tell his own story, that would be left to the history books for years to come if he had any choice in the matter.
Aerion's eyes flickered open, awoke by the tingling feeling of the princess's nails slowly trailing on his abdomen in a circular motion.
"The sun will rise soon, my ladies will be coming to wake me." she smiled up at him, planting a small kiss on his neck.
He remained silent, taking her hand and planting a peck on her knuckle, relishing in her morning beauty, how neat her hair still remained, though something still troubled him, Aerion felt weakened by his near defeat to Ser Mallister only a couple of days earlier, and it still weaned in his thoughts.
"You are doing it again." she playfully slapped his chest.
"Hm?" his brow raised.
"Not uttering a word, do I bore you that much, cousin?" she asked.
"No… No, it's not you. If anything, I am stunned by your beauty." Aerion said.
Rhaenyra rolled on top of him and planted a kiss on his lips, which was quick to turn into a dance of their tongues, then the princess playfully bit his bottom lip as they parted, drawing a small drop of blood. Aerion ran his hand across her cheek as her hair fell upon his arm, looking at her with utter desire.
"Soon, you will be named my queen of love and beauty." Aerion declared "Your favor and support are what give me victory, and make it so I shall never surrender, and that is more special than anything else in this world."
"I have enjoyed your company these past days, cousin, though it serves as a reminder of my fate to marry a man whom I do not love as I should." she placed a hand on his heart "Why could it not have been you? My only wish is that I had met you when we were children, maybe our lives would have been different."
"I asked my mother if I could journey to the Eyrie to ask for your hand." Aerion revealed "It's all anyone could talk about, the Realm's Delight visiting the Vale to search out her Prince Consort, but she denied me, as she has many times before." he said bitterly.
"Why?" she asked.
"When I was born, the Vale was recovering from a short-lived civil war between Lady Jeyne and her cousin, Ser Arnold. My grandfather, Yorbert Royce, served as Lord Protector at the time, and to secure Jeyne's hold over the Vale, we were promised to one another. My mother intends for me to honour that arrangement."
"He thought that if she was promised to the Blood of the Dragon, no one would dare act against her." Rhaenyra said, biting her lip in contempt.
"Yes." Aerion nodded "Not that it mattered anyway, Arnold fought to remove her once again and was confined to the sky cells after his defeat, only to be released a few years after, and now I must be what stops him from attempting to take power again and drive the Vale into another war. So, Princess, we find ourselves in a similar situation to one another."
"Then your upcoming tilt against Ser Gwayne Hightower could provide the perfect opportunity as to why you should be feared." her finger trailed down his arm "Just think, the brother to the Queen, defeated and maimed by the Bronze Prince."
Aerion rolled onto his feet, pulling on his breeches before looking back at the Princess as she spread across the bed, the body of a goddess hidden beneath the thin white sheet.
"If I was to do that, then it serves you also, would it not?" he smirked "Sending a clear message to Alicent that you have a powerful ally in your corner. Very smart thinking."
"Well that most certainly wasn't on my mind at all." she giggled "Now leave me, perhaps I might get some sleep before my ladies come."
He took a moment to sit and put on his black boots, with Rhaenyra throwing his shirt towards him. Aerion leaned towards the princess, meeting her lips briefly before setting forth out of her room through the secret passages back to his own chamber.
Aerion prepared for training when he arrived in his chambers, it tired him but he was hungry to prove himself, and that powered the prince through anything that came his way. Over the last couple of days, Aerion had won other duels against knights from houses such as Fossoway, Dondarrion, and Blanetree.
The prince had taken second place in the tourney behind Ser Arryk Cargyll of the Kingsguard, and he hoped that the final melee and lists would see him emerge victorious ahead of the celebrated knight, in third place was Ser Gwayne Hightower.
A part of him had wished his father would enter the tourney so that he may battle against him, but alas, he was nowhere to be seen, Aerion thought that there was no doubt he was in the bed of some whore on the street of silk.
TWO HOURS LATER…
Aerion's sword was thrown from his hand and landed on the ground of the courtyard, he flicked his hand, then pressed his lips against the small cut on his finger caused by the blade of one of four guardsmen that surrounded him.
"We go again." Aerion said.
The prince shook his head, and picked up the sword, twirling it in a circular motion before setting a firm grip and holding it flat side upon his shield, bending his knees slightly as his right is positioned ahead of his left.
"You heard the prince." Ser Rodrik echoed.
The first guard lunged forward, but the prince was swift and parried with his sword, the sound of steel on steel ringing through the air, and then countered with a quick thrust. The guard stumbled back, barely parrying in time. Aerion didn't let up, pressing the attack, and a series of rapid strikes had the guard on the defensive.
As he engaged, another of the guards attacked from the side. Aerion twisted, bringing his shield up just in time to absorb a heavy blow. The impact reverberated through his arm, but he did not falter. Instead, he used the momentum, spinning to land a solid hit with his shield on the guard's side. With the guard staggered, Aerion turned back to his original opponent, not giving him a moment's respite.
The courtyard was alive with the sounds of combat, the clash of steel, the shuffle of boots on dirt.
Another guard joined the fray, his sword arcing towards Aerion's head. With a deft movement, the prince ducked and pivoted, his own sword lashing out to create distance. The fourth guard now entered the combat, trying to flank him.
He struck out with his sword, forcing one guard back, then quickly brought his shield up to parry a blow from another.
Sweat beaded on Aerion's forehead, he feinted towards one guard, then spun, catching another with a surprise attack.
Aerion managed to disarm the guard with one powerful swing, the sword clattering to the ground. He pulled the man towards him with a grip of his breastplate, swinging him around and holding his blade to the man's throat, looking towards the others as they slowly dropped their swords as well, acknowledging defeat.
"Well done, my prince, though your enemies may not be so easy to surrender in a true battle." Rodrik pointed out. "Especially in the melee, where they will be all from different houses."
He swiped the blade away from the man's throat and sheathed his sword.
"I assure you, Rodrik - I am very much aware of that." Aerion clapped his hands, smirking towards his sworn shield.
He clicked his fingers towards a young boy, no older than ten, who soon came rushing over with a flagon of wine. The boy was his squire, Colrin Coldwater, taken on when he first became a knight as a way to please his mother's bannermen. While the boy was often slow, he made up for it with his dedication, always being there when Aerion had need of him.
"Thank you, Colrin."
The boy poured it into the cup as Aerion held it up, and then soon stepped back. The prince took a sip of his wine, and looked back towards Rodrik.
There was a long silence between them, as he felt Rodrik's judgement cross over him, though it was soon cut when Aegon came rushing down the steps into the courtyard, followed by the Queen and Ser Criston Cole.
"I saw everything, Aerion." Aegon exclaimed "Can you teach me? I want to wield a sword just like yours."
Aegon was spinning and waving his arm around in the air, and accidentally fell into the dirt but could not do anything but laugh.
"Aegon!" the Queen shouted.
Aerion grabbed the little princlings arm, pulling him up and running a hand through his silver hair, smiling warmly at the boy.
"Well aren't you clumsy, little warrior" Aerion said, then turning his attention to Alicent "Good morrow to you, my Queen."
"That was an impressive display, Prince Aerion." Alicent smiled falsely.
"So can you teach me?" he asked, showing no signs of the shy little boy he had met only days prior.
"Aegon, I am sure Aerion has much to do in preparation for his upcoming tilt against your uncle." Alicent said.
She tried to beckon Aegon over to her side, but he remained committed, stamping his feet in rebellion, causing a stir in the yard as he screamed for Aerion to train him, revealing that he was the spoiled brat Rhaenyra said he would be.
"Tell you what, Aegon." Aerion knelt down to his level "I will let you watch me, hm? Let us give your mother some time alone."
"Oh, you don't need to do that, his nurses -"
Aerion cut the Queen off half way through her sentence as she tried to keep Aegon away from him.
"Nonsense."
Aerion placed a hand upon Aegon's shoulder, smiling devilishly at the Queen as his focus remained on her for a brief moment.
"Aegon is my cousin afterall, it is high time that we spent some time together. I shall bring him up to your chambers shortly after we are done here."
"Very well." Alicent replied, rolling her eyes in annoyance
She leaned down and hugged her son, he could see that she truly loved her child, and it gained some respect from Aerion, rubbing her hand on his cheek before leaving them alone in the halls.
Aegon insisted on getting a close-up view of his blade, to which Aerion allowed, and showed him the dragon pommel.
Aerion began to practise once more, swinging his sword against the training dummy, but he would often get distracted as his attention was pinned to Aegon, who insisted on being a pain in his arse by not keeping still and distracting the others in the courtyard.
"Over here, Aegon." he called out, walking over to the weapons rack and grabbing a training sword made from wood "Let me teach how to wield one finally, yes?"
"Yes! Mother always says I'm too young." the boy frowned.
"Nonsense, I was your age when I first picked up a sword."
He placed both of Aegon's hands on the hilt of the blade; his little hands barely fit around it, and he attempted a few strikes at the dummy.
They spent a few more hours in the courtyard, Aerion ended up being more focused on the boy's training than his own, but he did not mind; he came to enjoy Aegon's company, coming to learn he wasn't all that Rhaenyra described.
It was true that the boy wanted things his way, but what else would be expected by a boy who had been raised with everything he could dream of, Aerion gazed at the skies as a loud screech could be heard from above, and he saw Syrax flying overhead back towards the dragonpit, bringing a smile to his lips.
"Come on, little warrior!" he called out to Aegon "We best get you back to your mother, we wouldn't want her to start worrying."
"I want to stay." he stomped his foot on the ground "I command you to let me remain out here."
Aerion chuckled "I am not your servant, princling, when I say we are going back to your mother, I mean it." he continued "I will bring you out here another day, hm?" the boy nodded and followed on behind him as they went back into the red keep.
As he travelled through the red keep, Aegon insisted on being lifted up, to which Aerion agreed, and it was not long until he heard soft snores as the boy rested his head on his shoulders.
Hardly an hour and the boy had already managed to use up all his energy, and it had barely even reached noon.
Aerion reached the queen's chambers, and she had three of her ladies surrounding her and she prepared the dress for today's lists, standing on a small stool looking out of the window which gave a great view of the city and the sept.
He walked in without making his presence known to her, and planted Aegon gently onto the couch, resting his head on the cushion.
"Apologies, your grace, it seems I may have worn the young Aegon out."
"Thank you, Aerion." the queen replied, and possibly gave him the first genuine smile he had received since he arrived from her "Talya, please take Aegon to his bedchambers, and have a meal ready for when he wakes." she ordered.
Alicent removed herself from the stool and dismissed her other ladies, moving over to sit at a table filled with the finest fruits from across the seven kingdoms.
"Please join me, Aerion, I thought we may speak for a while."
Aerion sat opposite her, grabbing an orange from the table and peeling it.
"No need to thank me, my queen."
"The life of a prince can be a lonely one, especially in Kings' Landing, the lords of the realm will seek to place their children in front of him, to befriend him, and I won't allow it." she said, there was a slight hint of spike as if she knew from experience "he has his family, and that is enough."
"Much similar to my own mother." he said, smirking "though she did not want me to learn more about my family, the Targaryens."
Alicent quietly scoffed, almost feeling insulted that he compared her to his mother.
"Tell me, Aerion, what is it that you do with the princess while you are alone with each other?"
The line of questioning caught him off guard, and he almost choked on his orange slice, which was met with confusion from the queen.
"She teaches me more about our history, things that might not have been available in the books at Runestone." Aerion replied, tapping his foot on the ground "And I get to know her, what she likes to do in her spare time, and the sorts."
His answer amused her, though he could not tell if that was good or bad.
"I would urge you to be careful around the princess, Aerion, she has often been influenced by bad company." she warned.
"And what type of company would that be, my queen?" he asked curiously as she ate a few grapes from her plate.
"Your father, they were immensely close with each other on his last visit…perhaps they still are." she paused for a moment "Oh..what am I saying? It is not for me to tell you of their relationship."
Rhaenyra had hardly mentioned Daemon to him, whether it was out of respect or that he did come into the conversation, but what was the queen trying to get? So many questions ran through Aerion's mind.
"Considering Daemon spent most of his time here when he was on the small council, I am not surprised they were so close." Aerion responded.
"Does that not upset you? To know your father preferred the company of another than his own son?" she countered.
"Upset me? Perhaps at some point it may have." he replied "though I have learned to live with being one of my fathers' many disappointments."
He lifted himself from the chair, bowing his head
"If you will excuse me, I need to prepare for my bout against your brother."
It was midday, and Aerion awaited his bout with Ser Gwayne Hightower with anticipation, preparing himself in the confines of his pavilion, Colrin was assisting with the prince's armour and making sure it was fitted correctly.
"You are taking an awful lot of time, Colrin, is there an issue?" he asked.
"I..I'm sorry, my prince, I can't secure the straps." the boy answered honestly.
Aerion pushed the boy's hand out of the way, and began to tug at the leather strap of his gauntlet, securing it with ease.
He had shown Colrin how to do it effectively, and followed it up with a simple nod to the squire, then watching carefully as the boy secured his other gauntlet.
"This fool says he knows you, my prince." his sworn shield stated.
Rodrik appeared through the flaps, his hand gripped upon his sword hanging at the hip, giving a side eye to the man that entered soon after, Jory, armoured and ready for his own joust with blue-green as his colour, and a white merman with dark green hair, beard and tail, carrying a black trident on his surcoat.
Jory had a smug look on his face, looking over Rodrik before turning his focus onto the prince, nodding in approval at his armour.
"Well, now that is sure to send a message." he laughed, looking around the pavilion "Thought I would come and wish you luck, and share some information about your opponent; Ser Gwayne Hightower."
"My prince." Rodrik stated "You will address his grace with the proper title, or not address him at all."
Aerion rose from the chair, and patted Colrin on the shoulder, nudging his head towards the exit.
"Go prepare my horse, boy." Aerion commanded, with a warm smile "Calm yourself, Rodrik, Jory did not mean any disrespect."
The prince walked on over to the table, and poured himself a mug of watered-down wine, glancing only briefly at Jory.
"What is this information?" he inquired.
There was tension between Rodrik and Jory, causing a brief silence before the gold cloak perked up once more.
"His shield arm is weak, my prince." he said the title with a grin. "It is still healing from his scrap with some of my fellow gold cloaks."
Aerion looked to Ser Rodrik, sharing a look of interest, a cynical smile upon his lips.
"Tell me more; why was there infighting?"
He knew very little about the City Watch, only that Otto Hightower was said to have implanted spies while he was still Hand in an attempt to loosen his father's control over them after he built them up from nothing but a band of ill-equipped fools and gave them all gold cloaks to wear with honour.
"The men remain loyal to your father, Prince Daemon. The officers know that Gwayne was only given a position to spy on us, and it just so happens some of them like to express their hate for the brat when they're drunk, using their fists." he grinned.
Aerion thought for a moment about using the watch to his advantage, being the blood of Prince Daemon Targaryen was sure to get him far with them.
"I thank you for this information, Jory. I will be sure to use this injury to my advantage." the prince noted "This commander of yours, would you be able to arrange a meeting?"
"Should be easy enough." Jory agreed.
"Great." Aerion smiled "I wish you good fortune in the bouts to come, Jory, I do hope that we do not tilt against each other"
"And to you, my prince." Jory smirked at Rodrik as he took his leave.
Rodrik released his grip on the sword, crossing his arms as he watched Aerion pace the pavilion, thinking of his next steps.
"I know that look, Rodrik." he turned to face him "What is it that you are having an issue with?"
"You are distracted. Your duel with Ser Rymun showed as much, and since then, each of your opponents have been getting the best of you, despite everything we have trained for."
"I have been victorious in every bout. On the morrow, the final mélee will take place. I will need you to find out who are the six knights I will be facing, as well as any weakness they may have."
The prince ignored his sworn shield's worry, noticing the slight bite of the lip as Rodrik held back his thoughts. Aerion made way towards the table that sat many fruits, grabbing a thin slice of apple, taking a bite.
"As of now, I am second in points only to Ser Arryk of the Kingsguard. No doubt I will either face him on the field in the melee, or in the lists." he grabbed his mug once more, taking his lips to it again "Perhaps even both." he shrugged.
Aerion adjusted his gourget, stretching out his neck before making his way outside. Merchants had drawn up their wagons as close as the guards allowed them to the prince's pavilion, whether it be that they wanted him to use their service, or the onlookers of nobles and smallfolk, he knew not.
His squire, Colrin, was petting the horse that remained tied to a wooden post, dug deep into the ground, it was a pure white stallion, the colour of snow found at the highest peak of the mountains of the moon in the Vale. It had no name, at least not one that the prince had cared to give, but stood a constant reminder that he was forever near to his home. Black scaled armour covered its body and travelled over its head.
The viewing stands were filling up with highborn lords and ladies, scores of knights who had decided to come watch the prince compete, and many rich townsfolk. He recognized King Viserys and Princess Rhaenyra sitting in the royal box, along with the Queen Alicent, and her eldest son, Prince Aegon, who had awoken from his earlier nap.
Rodrik untightened the reins against the posts, taking hold of the horse and they began to walk to the arena, Aerion placing the helmet over his head, opening up the face as he took in the cheers from the crowd.
Looking ahead, he spotted Ser Gwayne from afar, bearing the hightower coat-of-arms on his armour, mounted upon his horse and prepared for his tilt against the prince. Aerion mounted his own horse, rolling his shoulders and grabbing tightly onto the reins, using his free hand to gently pat the horse.
Rodrik passed him his shield. It was painted black with the three-headed red dragon of House Targaryen and he strapped it to his gauntlet.
Aerion extended his arm for the lance, which his squire, Colrin, dutifully handed him. With a practised motion, he used the top of his shield to close his helmet, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the task ahead. The herald raised his hands high up into the air, the crowd erupting into a chorus of cheers and shouts.
"Prince Aerion Targaryen of Runestone will now tilt against Ser Gwayne Hightower of Oldtown." the herald's voice boomed across the field.
Aerion, with a measured gaze, pointed his lance towards the royal viewing box, bowing his head in a show of respect to his uncle, the King. The prince's gaze then locked onto Ser Gwayne, taking a deep breath as he spurred his horse into motion, feeling the rush of wind against his face.
The clash was monumental. Aerion's lance struck true against Gwayne's shield, causing the knight to reel but not fall. The lance splintered upon impact.
The prince was quick to cast aside the broken lance and seize another, spurring his horse again, focusing intently on Gwayne's helm. This time, however, his aim faltered, and Gwayne's lance found its mark, slamming into Aerion's shield with such force that it nearly unseated him.
The crowd gasped collectively, then erupted into cheers as Aerion, showing his remarkable skill and determination, regained his balance atop his horse. He tossed aside the second lance, tearing the fresh one from the grips of Colrin, and charged once more, pushing his young squire to the ground as the horse kicked up clods of earth in its wake.
Rising slightly in the saddle, the prince aimed and shattered Ser Gwayne's shield, sending the knight tumbling from his horse into the dirt. Aerion brought his steed to a swift halt, dismounting and drawing his sword, pacing with a confident stride, with a smirk that played on his lips.
His arrogance seemed to ignite a fire within his opponent, who called for his own blade, playing right into the prince's hands.
"Ser Gwayne Hightower wishes to continue in a contest of arms!" announced the herald, his voice cutting through the din of the crowd, which now roared with anticipation.
They met on the right side of the tiltyard, and the prince wasted no time. He lunged forward, his sword cutting through the air, attacking relentlessly, each strike was a clear message that he had no intent on just winning, but to dominate. Gwayne's parries were skillful, but Aerion could see the slight hesitation of his movements, a weakness he was all too ready to exploit.
Aerion pressed his attack, using his shield as a battering ram to throw Gwayne off balance. The sound of metal clashing filled the grounds, the crowd's excitement had become a mere echo in his ears, his blood boiling as a true dragon.
Gwayne's attacks, though well executed, seemed almost too predictable to Aerion. He easily deflected them with his shield or dodged them with a grace that belied his armoured bulk. Each time Gwayne's blade came close, the prince felt a rush of exhilaration, not from the danger, but from the power he wielded over his opponent.
He toyed with Gwayne, allowing him to believe he had the upper hand at times. He relished the brief flickers of hope he saw in the knight's eyes, knowing full well he could extinguish them at any moment, each strike was met with Aerion's brutal parries and counterattacks, each more vicious than the last.
Finding an opening, Aerion feigned a high attack before swinging his sword low, aiming for Gwayne's leg. The blade connected with a satisfying crunch, and Gwayne's cry of pain was music to the young prince's ears. He watched with a cold satisfaction as the Queen's brother fell to the ground, defeated and crippled by his hand.
Aerion slid his blade back into its sheath, his hand coming to rest confidently on the pommel. He gazed down at Ser Gwayne, leaning slightly forward.
"Do you yield, ser?" he asked
He watched as Ser Gwayne, beaten and broken, managed only a pained grunt in response. Without a word, Aerion, his expression void of any empathy, swiftly kicked Gwayne in the face with his armoured boot.
With a menacing glare, he reached down and roughly grabbed Gwayne by his armour, hauling him up with a forceful tug. Dragging him towards the royal box, his grip was unyielding, driven by the desire to further humiliate the Queen's brother.
Aerion looked up as they reached the royal box, picking Gwayne up to his feet, caring not for his pain, and holding his dagger to the man's throat. Queen Alicent looked terrified for her brother, covering her mouth with her hand while the opposite could be said for her son, Aegon, who seemed rather excited watching things unfold, no doubt he did not understand what was happening.
Then there was Rhaenyra, with a great smirk on her lips as she looked to Gwayne, broken just as she had asked of him.
"TELL THEM YOU YIELD!" he hissed, his words loud enough so that the entire crowd could hear, then whispering in his ear "Or I will slit your throat for everyone to see."
"I…I yield, my prince." he muttered under his breath.
The prince released him from his grip and he was quick to fall down to the ground. He sheathed his dagger and looked back up towards Rhaenyra specifically, untying her favour from his arm, taking it to his lips and giving it a kiss before bowing, the lilac of his eyes meeting her violet as he remained fixated on her.
"Prince Aerion of House Targaryen!" the herald roared "The Bronze Prince has secured another victory!"
Aerion's gaze lingered on the fallen Gwayne for a moment, a mix of disdain and satisfaction in his eyes. As he slowly backed away, he watched indifferently as maesters and guards hurried onto the field, rushing to the aid of the pathetic excuse of a knight.
He looked up briefly to see the Queen already hurrying towards her brother. Turning away, Aerion unhooked the blade from his belt and passed it to Colrin.
"Clean this." he ordered tersely.
Colrin nodded and scurried away with the blade, while Aerion's attention shifted towards the crowd, lifting a fist up into the air, finally basking in the glory of his win.
As Rodrik approached, his voice carried a mix of respect and concern.
"That was well done, my prince. Though I must ask, was such cruelty necessary? Ser Gwayne Hightower may never tilt again."
Aerion felt his swornshield's hand on his shoulder, and he turned from the crowd, his gaze cold and detached as he began to walk towards his pavilion.
"It was necessary, Rodrik." Aerion replied, his voice firm "It sends a message to all those in attendance that the Prince of Runestone is not to be underestimated, in a tourney or on the battlefield."
He hid his true intentions well. Gwayne was the perfect opportunity to prove himself capable, not only for the wars that are sure to come, but that he is willing to defend the princess against those she sees as her enemies, especially the Hightowers.
"Surely there are -" he was cut off.
"Rodrik, look at where we are." Aerion gestured expansively "King's Landing is nothing like home, should I not learn to adapt, then the nobles will gather like rats and snakes to plot my downfall. You may not understand, but there is a dangerous game happening and I have no intention of being outplayed."
Aerion passed Rodrik, making his way back to his pavilion as his sworn shield soon followed shortly behind him, the murmurs of the crowd still echoed in his ears, though was soon interrupted as a voice reached out at him from behind.
"Prince Aerion!" a man shouted "A moment, if I may?"
Aerion slowed his pace, not turning fully but glancing over his shoulder, spotting Lord Lyonel Strong, Hand of the King.
"Lord Strong, If you disapprove of my behaviour on the field, let me stop you.."
"That is not why I wish to speak with you, my prince." Lord Strong clasped his hands together as Aerion led them both into his pavilion "I have discussed with the King about having a noble from the Vale serve as an advisor on the small council."
Aerion's interest piqued, he hadn't expected the King to take his comment seriously, soon offering a cup of wine to Lord Strong, of which he accepted.
"Is that so?" he asked.
"Yes, and the King has asked that until your eventual return to the Vale, if you would serve as this advisor, offering sage advice to his grace."
"His grace honours me with this offer, but I will have to think it over, surely you understand that such a position would require many hours of my time." Aerion smiled.
"Ofcourse." Lord Strong agreed "And should you not agree, then we would be interested in hearing who you believe may serve his grace well."
Lyonel had taken a small sip from his cup of wine before setting it down and leaving the tent in haste.
Thank you for your patience between the last chapter and this one, and I hope you all enjoyed the festive holidays. Comments & Feedback is greatly appreciated.
UP NEXT: We finish off the tourney as Prince Aerion competes in the final melee, but news reaches him that may just prevent the prince from coming out victorious.