webnovel

Velaryon

Aerion eyed his surroundings tiredly, they were breaking their fast at a table in a grand ornate hall. Sliced meats, dried fruits, cheeses, milk and expensive wines all laid beautifully on the rich wooden table.

He was surrounded by the Royal Family, Viserys sat at the head of the table, Prince Aegon on his knee as he spoke gibberish to the giggling boy. Queen Alicent sat to his left, her eyes focused on her plate. 

Rhaenyra sat to Viserys right, slowly eating, looking awfully bored as she did so. That left Aerion sitting next to the beautiful Queen, directly across from a smirking Daemon. 

Aerion looked down at himself, adorned in formal black clothes, the fabric heavy and luxurious against his skin. Intricate gold embroidery traced the edges of the sleeves and collar, curling into delicate patterns.

Around his waist was a deep purple sash, detailed with subtle golden dragons that coiled across the fabric. Draped over his shoulders was a matching cloak, the purple fabric flowing down his back, adding an air of quiet authority.

He shifted, the clothes were expensive but Viserys had practically thrown them at him, telling him he needed to represent the family and his house. Everyone else was wearing similarly opulent outfits, but they wore red and black.

Rhaenyra pushed her food around her plate, the food no longer looking as appetising as it did when the servants had brought it. Her mind couldn't help but wander back to her fathers words.

Marriage.

She felt like her mind was in a constant whirlwind, with a thousand swirling thoughts in her mind. She knew she was to be married, it was an inescapable reality. 

But the thought of having to spend her life with someone who didn't truly know her, share a life with someone who wouldn't care for her, sent an uncomfortable feeling through her gut.

Alicent broke the silence "How are you finding the Red Keep Aerion?" She asked, her tone gentle as she started to exchange light pleasantries. Aerions head turned, facing the pretty Queen, his good-sister. 

"It's…grander than I'm used to, Your Grace" he admitted, he'd been given a room in the Royal wing. The room was gigantic, with fancy tapestries and expensive rugs lining it. 

"It would be" Daemon said casually as he ate, looking all too comfortable. "I've heard Crows Point isn't exactly…majestic" 

"Oh, i'd be glad to visit your castle" Aerion shot back, of course Daemon had no castle. The man didn't respond, his smirk widening as he continued to eat.

The silence bore heavy on Aerion once more, the only sounds were the babbles of young Aegon. His chubby hand reached out for The King's goblet of wine. Alicent shifted, the movement catching Aerions eye as she turned her head towards him. 

"And how is Crows Point? I've heard it's been coming along quite well since you took it under your wing." Alicent asked warmly, her tone friendly and curious. 

"It's…still growing. It has many faults, but it has its merits." He said, his mind going back to his keep. "The people are kind, hardworking"

"I've no doubt your house will prosper, Aerion." Her tone is gentle, but there was something else in her gaze as she spoke. 

"I assume you'll be wed soon?" Alicent asked curiously, a hint of resentment hidden deep down. Aerion pursed his lips as he answered.

"Most likely" he agreed with a sigh, his eyes flicking around the table, lingering on Rhaenyra for a moment. She was looking at him and Queen Alicent, listening in on their conversation. 

"You'll have quite the pick of Ladies when news of your dragon gets out" Viserys said from the head of the table. Little Aegon giggled as he poked at bread laid on Viserys plate. 

Rhaenyra scoffed as she leaned back in her chair "A host of preening, swooning ladies, no doubt" she sharply said, memories of her marriage tour playing through her mind. 

Alicent looked down at her plate uncomfortably at the words, Daemon smirked, his eyes following his niece approvingly at her words. Aerion shrugged, his eyes lingering on her for a moment before he sighed.

"Those ladies could bring me quite a bit of coin" he said back. Many houses would want influence over a dragon and would pay a King's ransom to get said influence.

"Yes, but is that what you want? To marry some lady you don't know?" She questioned, her mind racing as she thought of her own future marriage proposals. 

The idea of marriage had always lingered in the back of Aerions mind since he was legitimised, the idea of marrying a highborn lady wasn't exactly the worst fate in the realm but it wasn't a dream of his.

"Not particularly" he said as he shrugged and shifted uncomfortably. "But it would give me the coin I need for Crows Point to thrive, and heirs, in time" he reasoned, 

"So, you'd prefer a marriage of convenience over one of love?" Rhaenyra leaned slightly forward, the soft fabric of her dress brushing against the table.

Aerion hesitated, his hand resting on the rim of his goblet. For a moment, he looked as though he was searching for the right words.

"I never said that" he eventually said as he leaned back into the dining chair. Rhaenyra's gaze lingered on Aerion for a moment, her eyes searching his face as if trying to read between his words. 

"And yet," Rhaenyra said, leaning further forward ever so slightly, "you speak of heirs and coin, but what would you truly want in a marriage?"

Her voice was casual, but her gaze was oddly sharp. Aerion hesitated, his mind racing to find an answer that was both honest and safe as the fellow Royals watched the interaction curiously.

"Perhaps…a marriage that holds some promise beyond coin," he said hesitantly. "But I doubt those are easily found." Rhaenyra's lips twitched into a subtle smile, something almost playful in her expression. 

"No, they aren't," she replied as her fingers toying with the edge of her cup, her voice almost daring him to continue the conversation. 

Alicent's fork hovered over her plate, forgotten, as her gaze flicked between Aerion and Rhaenyra. Alicent's polite smile faltered for a fraction of a second. 

"Love often comes later, if it comes at all," Alicent said with an air of finality. Her words brought Aerion's attention back away from Rhaenyra, and the silence that followed felt heavy.

Viserys chuckled as Aegon clumsily grabbed at his wine goblet again, bringing the conversation to lighter matters.

But Rhaenyra was still watching Aerion, a faint curiosity—and something else—lingering in her gaze. He caught her eye again, and for a brief moment, it was as though no one else was at the table. 

Alicent eyed the pair warily, a hint of envy burning away in her chest at the sight.

Aerion shifted in his seat, breaking the moment by lifting his goblet to his lips. He could feel the intensity of her gaze still on him. 

A soft creak of the door interrupted the moment, the sound drawing every gaze. A servant stepped in, bowing low as he approached the King, a sealed letter in hand. 

The table's focus had shifted, Viserys used a butter knife to open the sealed letter. Handing the wax seal to Aegon who eyed it curiously before putting it in his mouth. 

Aerion snorted as the boy spat it out with some coughs, whereas The King's brows furrowed as he read the letter. Daemon's smirk didn't falter, but his eyes sharpened. 

"What, brother?" he drawled, casually spearing a piece of meat on his plate. The flippancy of his tone belied the sudden interest that flared behind his gaze, a flicker of calculation passing through his features as he watched Viserys closely.

Viserys's brow furrowed deeply as he read the letter, his previous cheer fading. "The Velaryons have already left Driftmark," he said, his voice filled with confusion. He glanced at Daemon. "Far too quickly, I'd say."

A moment of silence passed as a glint entered Daemons eye. 

"Do you think they're expecting more than just a feast?" Daemon asked, his eyes lingering on Rhaenyra.

—-

Aerion stood in the Redkeeps courtyard, staring up in a mixture of awe and fear. He could feel the whispers of reverence and fear ripple through the crowd, their gazes fixed on the sky above.

Vhagar, the Queen of Dragons, soared above the city. Her sheer size was inconceivable, a dark shadow passing over the Red Keep as her giant wings beat like thunder. 

With a roar, Seasmoke flew by, smaller than even Syrax but fierce, the grey dragon hardened by war. Then Meleys darted past, faster than the other two and about the same size as Gaelithox, her red scales gleaming like blood in the sunlight. 

Each dragon was a living embodiment of power, drawing gasps from the smallfolk below. Daemon scoffed beside him, shaking his head as his hand casually rested on the pommel of Dark Sister.

As the dragons circled the city a few more times before landing, Aerion's heart raced with apprehension. The smallfolk gazed up in wonder, a mosaic of emotions painted across their faces—fear, admiration, reverence. 

Minutes later, a luxurious blue carriage arrived at the gates of the Red Keep, dragged by two large horses to the courtyard. 

Out stepped Corlys Velaryon, tall and imposing, with dark skin and the trademark platinum Valyrian hair. Following him was Princess Rhaenys, dark-haired and regal, her bright purple eyes scanning the crowd, locking momentarily with Aerions.

Her eyes scanned his form, running across the circlet atop his head before her attention was diverted.

She was the first woman to ever guess at his parentage, he wondered what she thought of his rise, from bastard to prince?

Then came Laenor Velaryon, a young man and the rider of Seasmoke, and finally Laena Velaryon, the strikingly beautiful rider of Vhagar. Aerion eyed her curiously.

She truly didn't look like much, beautiful sure, but this lady, two years younger than even him, controlled the greatest singular power in the realm. 

As he observed the Velaryons—the richest house in Westeros—he felt a twinge of uncertainty. He didn't know how they'd react to his presence, to his status, or to his dragon. 

His eyes shot to Rhaenyra, standing a few paces to his right, she seemed to be watching Laenor with slight annoyance on her face. Anxiously twisting her rings around her fingers. 

—-

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