The hall was loud and frantic with a hundred lords mumbling with each other, King Viserys ordered them to dissipate from the hall with the help of the household guard. Only a few remained, including Aerion, who was leaning against a table, wiping his mouth with a cloth, removing the blood that had accumulated from his scuffle with Ser Criston.
"Seven Hells." the king exclaimed "Lord Commander, ensure Ser Criston is imprisoned in the Black Cells until he is summoned before myself after the wedding celebrations." Viserys looked from Ser Harold to the Grand Maester, who was tending to Joffrey "Mellos, what is his condition?"
"He will live, your grace." Grand Maester Mellos revealed, much to the relief of Laenor especially "but there has been considerable damage to his eye, we must get him to my chambers for further healing."
"Ser Erryk and Ser Steffon, assist the Grand Maester in getting Ser Joffrey to his chambers." The Kingsguard did as they were commanded and Joffrey was ushered away rather quickly, with Laenor following after them.
Rhaenyra walked over to Aerion "May I?" she said, grabbing the cloth from his hand and assisting him in cleaning up his face, and the prince smiled at her warmly.
"You did well, my boy." Viserys calmed down, having to place his hand on the chair to balance himself "I do hope you are not seriously hurt?"
"I should be fine, your grace." Aerion nodded "Right now, it is Ser Joffrey that I shall pray for." Viserys patted him on the shoulder, and turned to Rhaenys and Corlys.
"Lord Corlys, I apologise for Ser Criston's outburst tonight, I believe we can move forward and enjoy the remainder of the festivities, the tourney will continue." Their conversation trailed as Aerion fixated on Rhaenyra running the cloth gently across his skin.
"Thank you." he mumbled under his breath, quiet enough that only Rhaenyra could hear him as the King's voice continued to dominate the hall "Sorry for - argh" his words were cut short as she pressed on a cut.
"Do not apologise." she replied, matching his tone.
"I believe we have all had enough for the night." Viserys' said as he approached Aerion and Rhaenyra once again "I will be retiring for the night.. Lord Lyonel, we shall convene the council at dawn."
"I will inform them right away, your grace." Lord Lyonel answered, and it was not long until only Rhaenyra and Aerion remained, she placed the cloth down on the table and set to leave herself, until the prince grabbed her hand and pulled Rhaenyra back to him.
"The words I spoke remain true." Aerion said, loosening his grip, running his hand across hers and intertwining their fingers "Tell me they are just as true to you."
"What happened here tonight is why we could never be - Ser Criston, once my most loyal protector, has been driven to madness over decisions I made." a tear left her eye and Aerion was quick to wipe it away.
"It is not my place to know what happened between yourself and Ser Criston, maybe I will never know.." Aerion answered "We have not known each other long, this is true, but you fill a hole that has long been empty." he ran his hand across her pendant "Perhaps even our grandfather wanted us to be more than we are."
"What about Laenor?" she asked "This would affect him just as much as I, the man is to be my husband, that is no small commitment." she questioned, though it appeared she was questioning herself more so than anything.
"You told me that you may never love him as one should love their husband - and that he would feel the same." he lifted up her hand, planting a small kiss on the back "I do not care that you are to be married, if we are not meant to be then the fourteen flames will rip us apart. Are you not one for risks, Rhaenyra?"
His hand slid up from her arm and rested gently on her neck, the silence that followed felt like an eternity, and Aerion leaned forward, their lips so close to touching that he could feel her warm breath.
"Aerion…" Rhaenyra faintly whispered, settling her hand upon his wrist and pulling away slowly and gently "No good will come from it.." he bit his lip, running his other hand through the curls of her hair, and despite her pleas, there was no resistance from her.
Without a word, Aerion trailed his hand beneath her chin, and guided her head up until their eyes locked, he ran his thumb across her lips, and in that moment he felt electrified, a feeling coursed through his entire body, his eyes closing as their lips touched, hers were soft and sweet, the taste of oranges lingering.
When their lips parted, he rested his forehead upon hers as he looked down at her lips once again; his heart was pounding, and his breathing was uncontrollable. He pulled his head back and a small smirk covered his lips, though was completely taken by surprise as she leaned forward and their lips rejoined once more.
After planting one final kiss, they giggled lightly, a once serious conversation turning light-hearted as they each removed the barriers that had been put up for so long "I will allow you to retire for the night, princess, it will be a long day tomorrow, but expect me to beat all those they put before me."
"Oh I will be expecting as much, you will wear my favour afterall." she smirked, and they soon departed from the hall, going their separate ways as Aerion left towards the courtyard, the widest smile on his face there had ever been, he had won the eyes of the most beautiful women at court.
"Finally." the voice caused Aerion to spin around, and there stood Jory, leaning beside the large doors "Here I thought it was you who had died at that eventful gathering." he held a black hooded cloak in his arm.
"On the contrary, I have never felt more alive." Aerion remarked, clasping his hands together "Why were you just waiting for me out here?"
"You still want to head into King's Landing, do you not?" Jory replied, throwing the cloak towards him.
Aerion caught hold of the cloak, taking in a whiff of its' bad odour, it smelt it had been laying in a pile of sheeps' shit "Where did you get this from? A shithouse?" He brought the cloak closer to his nose, and soon regretted that decision, wanting to puke.
"Stop complaining, and put it on already." Jory replied.
He walked up to him and unclipped Aerion's sword from his belt, though it left him quite amazed by the pair of them, seemingly having no care for his station and title, though he had heard it normal for northerners to not care much for the King in the south.
It had only been a century since they had their own king, Torrhen Stark, or more known as the King who knelt, though they were not the only one's, but considering they were the only kingdom who mainly worshipped the old gods, it was not surprising they had no love for a King who worships the faith of the seven.
"Someone will want to steal this sword of yours." Jory added "Luckily for you, no one will dare mess with Rickard, he'll keep it safe for you." he said, passing the sheathed sword to his brother, which Aerion did not notice was standing behind.
"He just pops up out of nowhere, doesn't he?" It worried Aerion somewhat, only having a dagger to defend himself, and it did not help his nerves that he had never seen Jory and Rickard fight, he was putting his life in the hands of a pair of strangers, and it bothered him severely.
Aerion pulled his arms into each of the sleeves, and pulled the hood over his head, he could hardly see anything in front of him, though he assumed the reason it covered his eyes was because the lilac would be a giveaway to his identity.
It made him question why they should be forced to hide themselves from the people, the city was built by Aegon the conqueror and belonged to House Targaryen, why should he have to hide his face, while the city adored them.
He adjusted the hood so that he could see, a smirk covered Jory's mouth, and Aerion wanted nothing more than to wipe it off his face "Let us go then." he said, looking back at the red keep before setting off.
The moment he stepped from the Red Keep's gates, the feeling of safety was no longer felt, replaced with a feeling of always watching his back. Nothing appeared different from the buildings at first, the same sandy stone buildings with orange rooftops, and its cobblestoned roads.
They came upon an older man giving a sermon to a large crowd of people, and Aerion had stopped for a moment to listen to what he might have to say, causing Jory and Rickard to also stop.
"It is they, my fellow man, the so-called lords and ladies who sit in their ivory towers and grand keeps who are the enemy, sitting by as the people grow hungry, and die of diseases that could otherwise be preventable." The speech was met with cheers of agreement.
"You allow them to speak about their liege like that?" he said, turning to Jory "I would have thought the gold cloaks acted against such slander."
"We did in the past, when your father was Lord Commander of the City Watch." Jory explained "Commander Luthor sees things differently, and decided these preachers were doing no harm." Aerion nodded along, though disagreed with him, one such man could inspire rebellion where there should not be one.
The city appeared to be more alive at night as they passed even more crowds of people "How come so many people are still awake?" he asked, wondering why people had been out so late, noticing Jory resting his hand on his blade, and Aerion moved to copy the action, only to remember he did not have his sword.
"King's Landing tends to be more alive at night, most of the smallfolk are busy during the day, serving their lord. They tend to entertain each other under the cover of dark." he shook his head "crime is at its highest now, Murders, Rapes, Thefts…you name it, it happens during the hour of the owl."
Aerion took note of this, continuing to look around at his surroundings as they continued to delve deeper into the city.
He began to notice small changes, as they down the alleyways, the buildings appeared to be less maintained, makeshift shacks had been set up, blocking some of the alleys around the city, and smallfolk dressed in rags and slept on the floor with blankets.
"Where are we?" Aerion asked, stepping over the smallfolk as they made their way to their destination.
"Flea Bottom, it is where the poorest in the city make their home, as well as the criminals." he shook his head "So much depravity happens here, you couldn't even imagine."
"And where exactly are we going?" he asked, lowering his voice "This doesn't exactly look like a place one would go for entertainment." he could feel himself getting glares by hooded figures as he passed, hearing whispers among them "You told me we would be going to the Street of Silk."
"Did I? It's funny how you can forget things… look you will see, we don't want to ruin the surprise." Aerion sighed at his reply, he was frequently on the watch.
"Give me my sword." he nudged Rickard, and he looked at him confused, not speaking a single word, though one more nudge from Aerion made him give back his blade, and he strapped it back to his belt, feeling much less nervous than he did with a weapon by his side.
As they reached the end of the alleyway, there was no other exit than the one they came through and Aerion could hear faint cheering coming from within the building on the far end, Jory knocked on the wooden door five times in a specific pattern, and it was answered by a gigantic bulky man with a scruffy grey beard that reached his belly button.
There was a strong whiff of fish that came from the man, and Aerion pinched his nose, turning away "We're full." the man said "If you wanna get in, you're gonna want to pay up." he said, extending his hand for payment.
Jory grabbed a pile of silver stags from the purse on his belt, and dropped them into the palm of the mans' hand, who then shook his head, gesturing for more.
"What? It was a single piece of silver a few nights ago." Jory exclaimed, sighing as he shook his head and pulled out a few more "Better?" the man finally nodded, and they were allowed in "thieving bastards." he mumbled.
They entered the building, and there was a large gathering around a pit with two full-grown men fighting each other, the three had managed to get a space at the wooden railing that looked down onto the fight
Aerion's eyes were fixed on the scene unfolding in the pit below. The air was thick with the shouts and cheers of the crowd. He leaned over the wooden railing for a better view, his heart pounding in rhythm with each clash of the fighters.
"Who are they?!" he yelled, turning to Jory, though his voice was nearly swallowed by the cacophony around them,
Jory, with his ever knowing smirk, replied over the din "They're fighters, Aerion! That one -" he pointed out a particularly formidable figure "- has never tasted defeated. I've won so much on him alone."
Aerion's gaze followed Jory's pointing finger to the fighter in question. The man was indeed a towering figure, with a broad, powerful build that was reminiscent of Rickard, who stood quietly beside him, though he moved with a surprising agility for his size, and each blow delivered precise and brutal.
As he focused on the fight, watching as each of the fighters exchanged their blows, he was brought back to memories of his trip to Gulltown as a child. He remembered sneaking from the keep with Willam, and the thrill of discovering the underground fights, it was a world away from the polished courts and noble jousts.
Lost in his reminiscence, Aerion barely noticed as the brute landed a decisive blow, sending his opponent crashing to the ground. The crowd erupted in a deafening roar, the victor standing tall and dominant in the centre of the pit
The victorious fighter, standing in the centre of the pit, swept his gaze over the crowd with a challenging glare. "Who among you dares to face me next?" he bellowed, his voice booming across the excited spectators.
In the heat of the moment, Aerion felt a surge of recklessness wash over him. The northern brute's challenge to the crowd resonated with something primal within him. Without a moment's hesitation, he stepped forward, a decision made in the heart of adrenaline-fueled impulse.
Beside him, Jory's grip tightened on his arm "The tournament begins tomorrow, I don't recommend you do this." Jory cautioned urgently, his voice laced with concern.
"I'll manage." he bit back, swiping his arm aggressively away from Jory, a then confident smirk playing on his lips. His heart raced, but not with fear, it was the thrill of facing such an opponent in raw combat.
Gracefully, he swung himself over the railing, the crowd's roar swelling around him as he descended into the pit. The moment his feet touched the ground, Aerion reached up, pulling back his hooded cloak.
Whispers and gasps rippled through the crowd at the sight of a Targaryen daring to enter such a brutal fray. He continued to prepare himself without uttering a word, removing his jerkin, and then his tunic.
"Hah!" His opponent laughed "You are so small, perhaps you should go up against the weakest of us." Aerion joined in the laughter with a small chuckle, squaring his shoulders as the scars upon his skin is revealed - they scattered his abdomen and chest, each with their own story.
He unhooked his sheathed sword and threw it up to Jory - who was quick to catch it "Shall we get on with it?" Aerion turned back to his foe, rubbing his knuckles as he awaited his opponent's first move.
His opponent rushed at him, and swung a powerful left, and struck Aerion in the face, his blow was like a hammer against stone, causing him to stagger towards the wall. He nodded his head sporadically, and chuckled, spitting blood onto the ground. He knew he would have to rely on his agility to win.
Aerion danced around his opponent, with each swing begging forceful, they were also predictable, and the prince was quick to use them to his own advantage, dodging and weaving while the crowd was a blur of noise and motion around them, no doubt exchanging coin as they bet on who will come out victorious.
His foe grunted in annoyance, though he soon was able to secure himself another significant blow, dropping Aerion to the ground as he misstepped. He spat once again, determination kept him going, rising from the ground and squaring his shoulders as he regained some brief distance from the man.
"Aerion!" he heard the familiar voice of Jory shout from above "aim for the bastard's legs!" The prince looked up for a short moment, but was also smacked in the head had he not looked back in time, sidestepping the rather aggressive swing. He felt a rush of exhilaration travel through his bones.
His opponent began to tire, his attempted blows were slow and he could not match Aerion's swift movements, it was then that the prince made his move. He allowed his foe to punch him once more, dropping him to the ground, and then Aerion kicked his foot back, landing in the man's knee, causing him to drop down to the ground along with him.
Aerion piled on top of him - and with a determined effort, he landed a series of rapid, targeted blows. His foe, battered and breathless, could no longer match the prince's ferocity and amidst the chaos, he yielded, his hands raised to surrender "I yield!" he cried out.
The prince stood, panting, his body aching but his mind racing that he actually came out victorious. He looked around the sea of faces, their eyes widened with respect and awe.
Jory's voice, vibrant and proud, sliced through the cacophony of the crowd. "Well fought, Aerion! You won me some coin!" He reached down to help Aerion, his tone imbued with both amusement and admiration.
As Jory grabbed hold of Aerion, steadying him, his laughter rang out, genuine and hearty. "You're a crazy son of a bitch, you know that, right?" he said.
Together, they made their way through the throng of spectators, Jory's arm firmly around Aerion's shoulders in a supportive grip. The prince could feel the eyes of the crowd on him, their murmurs and cheers a backdrop to his pounding heart.
A set of seats were made available to them, and Aerion sat slouched down, grabbing a cloth from a woman who worked there, wiping his lips. "I'd say I have been in enough brawls for tonight." he chuckled.
"Well, I did not expect you to get yourself involved with these, are you still ready for your duel on the morrow?" Jory asked.
"We shall see, won't we?" Aerion replied, running his hand across his head.
"Well, just rest for a moment, we're going to go watch the next match." Jory stood back up, and gestured for his brother to follow.
His brother looked back, and said in the plainest words "You did good." the first few words he had spoken since their introduction that wasn't in anger.
A girl stopped by him for a moment, she looked much younger than himself, and placed a mug of ale at the table, she did not utter a word and soon left, disappearing in the crowd.
Aerion took the ale to his lips and took a swig, it tasted both bitter and sweet, the flavour unlike anything he had ever tasted before, except for the hint of honey. It was not long until he was joined by another stranger.
The woman had pale skin with green eyes, her hair had been midnight-black, and she dressed in a golden yellow tattered dress, her breasts visible beneath the silks, Aerion's gaze downwards from her face towards them.
She took a seat beside him, grabbing the mug from his hands, and took a sip for herself "Are you interested in what you see, dragon?" she faintly whispered in his ear.
"Well, they do stand out quite a bit." she trailed her fingers up his arms, across his back and planted her hand gently upon his shoulder, causing Aerion to shuffle away from her, her hand falling behind him "It does not mean I want you touching me, only the gods know where you must have been."
"I've always wanted a dragon…I suppose every woman has." he flinched as he felt her hand trickle it's way up his leg, the corner of her lips pressing against his ear, the warmth of her breath trailing down his face "especially one that is a fierce, and brave warrior."
"People often want what they can never have.." he whispered back to her, and she guided her way towards his lips, and as they were about to connect, he gave her a smirk "I do not need a whore to satisfy my hunger.." he slapped her hand away from him, and she stepped back, running her tongue around her lips as she retreated from him.
The night progressed, and Aerion found himself in the company of Jory and Rickard, his mood lightening as they indulged in drinks, returning his tunic back to him. It was not long until they made their way back to the Red Keep.
"Well, Aerion, you have impressed us both, that much is clear." Jory smiled, patting his shoulder once more "We both will be cheering you on tomorrow, do not let us down."
"It will be good to see men I can call friends." Aerion held his hand against the stone wall outside the keep.
"How are you going to be explaining that?" Jory replied, gesturing towards the one of the many fresh scars on his face.
"Heh, that is easy to explain away" Aerion was quick to add "Everyone is bound to assume Ser Criston Cole managed to get a good hit on me."
As he made his way into the Red Keep and to the confines of his chambers, Aerion let out a sigh of relief, untying the laces of his tunic, and dropping to the floor, and he began stretching his neck, looking around at every angle.
"Where were you?" he jumped as he heard a voice from the shadows, the voice was sweet and soft, and he knew whom it belonged to, though he was shocked as to why Rhaenyra was in his room, and how long she had been waiting
"Rhaenyra?" he questioned.
A/N
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UP NEXT: Aerion grows closer to the princess, and duels against strong foes as he works his way up the ladder to winning the tourney.
