Ravens

The table was quiet, Aerion nervously shooting glances at Rhaenyra as the family broke their fast. Sunlight streamed through the hall's tall windows, casting a warm glow over the lavish spread of food.

At the head of the table sat Viserys, with Alicent at his left, bouncing Aegon lightly on her knee. Rhaenyra sat to Viserys' right, the empty seat next to her a glaring reminder of Daemon's absence.

He'd gone to the Stepstones to settle rising tensions.

"I have decided…" Rhaenyra began, her voice cutting through the quiet. Viserys looked up, caught off guard, as his daughter paused, gripping the goblet in her hands. "…to marry," she declared, her fingers tightening around the cup.

Viserys' eyes widened, his expression a mix of shock, relief, and curiosity as he leaned forward. Alicent's gaze shot to Rhaenyra, surprise evident in her eyes.

Aegon burped, oblivious.

Aerion's grip tightened around a piece of bread, his movements careful as he slowly placed it into his mouth, hoping to steady his racing heart. His eyes flicked toward Viserys, trying to maintain composure.

Alicent's gaze shifted to Aerion, her stomach knotting at the calm, practiced look on his face.

"Truly?" Viserys exclaimed, leaning in further. "Who?" His voice carried a hint of wariness, as if bracing himself for the most inconvenient choice Rhaenyra could make.

Rhaenyra's eyes flicked to Aerion, just for a moment. Alicent's eyes widened, resentment beginning to smolder within her.

"Aerion," Rhaenyra replied, her voice steady despite her thudding heart and trembling hands.

The room fell silent. Viserys' face went blank as he blinked, the world seeming to quiet around him as he stared at his younger brother.

For a brief moment, he saw Daemon in Aerion's place—platinum hair and a dangerous smirk. The shadow of his brother lingered, a spectre standing before the Brightflame.

Viserys' anger flared, a dragon's fire igniting in his chest as his fists tightened around his cutlery. But then he saw Aerion again—the dark hair, the deep purple eyes, the nervous expression that Daemon would never wear.

He exhaled sharply, forcing himself to tamp down the urge to lash out. His gaze fell to his plate, and he drew another deep breath.

"Why?" he hissed, his voice harsh but the question genuine.

Rhaenyra swallowed, ready to respond, but Aerion spoke first.

"It is a mix of practicality and…genuine want" Aerion began, his voice wavering as he rested his elbows on the table, a knot of unease tightening in his stomach. His eyes locked onto Viserys' as he took a shaky breath before continuing.

"I know Laenor Velaryon is the more practical choice—for the family, for the realm," Aerion explained, his voice faltering slightly. "But—"

"He certainly is" Viserys interrupted. "He would bring us House Velaryon, he would get rid of any slights The Sea Snake has against us, it would unite the two strongest houses in the realm" he said seriously as he eyed Aerion. 

Aerion swallowed hard, aware of how heavy his words would weigh on Viserys. The king was silent, his eyes never leaving Aerion, waiting for him to justify what seemed, to him, an audacious decision.

"…I care for her," Aerion said, the nervousness finally breaking through the calm exterior he'd tried so hard to maintain. "And more than that, we understand each other."

He cast a quick glance at Rhaenyra. She met his eyes, but her face remained unreadable, only the slight tremor in her hand betraying her own anxiety.

Viserys' brow furrowed, deep lines of frustration forming as he leaned back in his chair. His eyes softened, but only a fraction. "You care for her?" His tone was laced with incredulity, but beneath it, there was something else—perhaps a weary resignation.

"I care…very deeply for her" Aerion said slowly as his eyes flicked to Rhaenyra. Alicent saw the look and remembered finding them together, too close, far too close in the Gallery with the tapestries. 

Visceral hate burned through her. 

"It would bring House Brightflame and Targaryen together, it would give you a large dragon, it would help secure Rhaenyras position as heir, it's not nearly as fruitful as Velaryon, I know that—" Aerion tried but was cut off by Rhaenyra.

"You told me once that a marriage should be more than an alliance," Rhaenyra added softly, her eyes bright as she met her father's gaze again. "I care for him…deeply. And I know this is the right choice."

There was no arrogance in her tone, just a simple truth, one that seemed to hang between them like a delicate thread of hope.

Alicent's fingers tightened around the arms of her chair, her expression unreadable but the tension in her posture palpable. She could barely hold her tongue, resentment swirling inside her.

Viserys exhaled, running a hand over his face, as if the weight of the crown had grown heavier. He looked between his daughter and Aerion, caught between the duty of a king and the love of a father. For a long moment, he remained silent.

Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "This… this is not a decision to be made in haste, Rhaenyra. You understand that if you marry Aerion, it will define the future of the entire realm?"

Rhaenyra nodded, her expression resolute. "I do."

Viserys sighed deeply, closing his eyes for a brief moment before opening them again. "Then let us hope the realm is as understanding as you are."

—-

Alicent looked blankly around the nursery, intricate, colourful dragons painted on the walls. She had sent the nursemaids away, needing the solitude. Her gaze fell to her daughter in the crib.

Helaena.

Alicent sat slumped in a high-backed chair, its bright red cushions swallowing her as if mocking her weariness. She let her head rest back, feeling the weight of her own body pulling her down.

Her lips curled bitterly as the image of Aerion and Rhaenyra flashed in her mind—the look they had shared, fond. 

More than that even.

Her hand moved unconsciously to her belly. She was with child. Again. Her lips trembled as she pressed them together, trying to hold back the burning tears that stung at the corners of her eyes.

Again.

She remembered the pain, the tearing, the helplessness of each birth. The months spent swollen and aching, the screams. And yet, Rhaenyra was free. Rhaenyra, unburdened. The hatred flared inside her, sharp and unforgiving.

Her fingers picked at her nails as she opened her eyes again, staring blankly at the walls. Why does she get everything?

Everything.

Aegon stumbled past, his tiny body colliding with her knee. The thud reverberated through the room, followed by a sharp wail as he tumbled to the ground. Alicent clenched her teeth, the sudden, piercing cry grating against her nerves. 

Aegon looked up at her, his face red and tear-streaked, his wide eyes accusing—as if she had done this, as if she had placed her knee in his path.

She exhaled sharply, fighting back the tide of irritation that surged within her. How can a child make her feel like this?

Without a word, she stood up, rubbing her temples as if she could chase away the pounding headache forming behind her eyes. The cries grew louder, filling the room, each sob clawing at her patience until she could no longer stand it. 

She stormed toward the door, slamming it shut behind her. The crying was instantly muffled, but it still echoed in her mind, gnawing at the edges of her composure.

Outside, one of the nursemaids was waiting, her hands folded neatly in front of her. Alicent's eyes met hers, and for a moment, the queen felt a surge of irrational anger at the woman's calmness, her simple existence, standing there while Alicent unravelled.

"The prince needs your assistance," she snapped, her tone harsher than intended. Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and strode away, her heart pounding in her chest.

—-

Garth Bracken strode down the corridor toward his brother's solar, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of Garrett's progress. 

The boy was three-and-ten now, decent with a sword, though not nearly as skilled as Aerion had been at that age. Still, he was improving day by day. There's promise in him yet, Garth mused, a hint of satisfaction tugging at his lips.

He sighed, the thought of Aerion creeping back into his mind. He hadn't written to his nephew in months. Regret flickered in his chest, and he made a mental note to visit Crows Point soon. 

He'll bring Garrett with him, he decided, smiling faintly at the thought. It still felt strange—no, surreal—that Aerion was a prince now. He snorted at the idea, though it wasn't mockery in his tone. 

There was pride there, a warm feeling that settled in his chest, as if Aerion's rise had been his own in some small way.

My nephew, he thought, his smile broadening. As close to a son as I'll ever have.

The warmth of that thought lingered even as a familiar pang followed. He had no wife, no prospects, no matter how much his brother pleaded with him. The life of a soldier had left little time for such matters.

Brushing past a servant, Garth's eyes fell on the door ahead. The guards stationed there gave him respectful nods before stepping aside, allowing him to push the heavy door open. 

He stepped into the spacious solar, the familiar scent of parchment and woodsmoke greeting him as he entered.

"Brother," Garth said, lowering himself into the chair opposite his elder sibling, Lord Bracken. He eyed Humphrey with a faint smile—the man had been gaining weight these past few years, his dark beard now fuller, streaked with silver.

"Garth," Humphrey greeted, his voice booming with familiar joviality. He waved a letter in his hand, a wax seal bearing the three-headed dragon emblem discarded carelessly on the grand table between them.

"Tourney?" Garth guessed bluntly, shifting in his seat. His thoughts went to Garrett—at three-and-ten, the boy was now of an age where entering a squire's tourney was within reach. 

He would be thrilled.

But Humphrey's grin only widened, his grip tightening around the letter as though it were the most delightful secret.

"Aerion is getting wed" he exclaimed.

Garth's eyebrows shot up, his heart skipping a beat. For a moment, he stared in stunned silence before a grin broke out on his face, followed by a short, surprised laugh.

"It's about time," Garth muttered, shaking his head, the irony not lost on him as the words left his mouth. The thought of Aerion having children tugged at him, bringing with it a bittersweet pang as he thought of his sister. What would she think, seeing him now?

Before the weight of that thought could settle, Humphrey's voice snapped him back. "Ah, but you don't know the best of it," Humphrey said, his tone laced with excitement.

Garth furrowed his brows as he shifted again. "What's the best of it?" he asked bluntly, leaning forward over the table. Humphrey scoffed, shaking his head as though he still couldn't believe the words himself.

Without another word, Humphrey handed over the letter. Garth snatched it, his eyes quickly scanning the lines of ink.

Lord Bracken, you and your retinue are hereby invited to the Royal Matrimony of Crown Princess Rhaenyra— Garth's breath caught, his eyes widening as he forced himself to keep reading.—and Prince Aerion Brightflame. On the third moon of the—

His hand stilled on the parchment. Garth slowly leaned back into his chair, his gaze snapping up to meet Humphrey's. Shock flickered in his eyes, disbelief tightening his throat as he swallowed.

"Gods" he murmured disbelievingly as he leaned back into the chair. Humphrey only grinned widely, his fingers tapping rapidly against the table below as the Lord's mind raced with the sheer possibilities.

His nephew was going to be a King…

—-

That night, Garth sat at the head table, disbelief still lingering as he ate slowly. His thoughts were distant, the weight of the news pressing heavily on him. 

At the far end of the table, Garrett and Myrra exchanged hushed words, their quiet conversation a welcome distraction. 

The two had become…friends in Aerion's absence. Myrra pretended to pour wine for the boy, a mischievous smile on her lips as they whispered to one another.

Suddenly, Lord Humphrey stood, commanding the hall's attention. The low hum of chatter ceased, and all eyes turned toward him.

"A royal marriage has been announced!" Lord Bracken's voice rang out, eager and brimming with excitement. Whispers rippled through the hall, but Humphrey continued, undeterred.

"Between our very own Prince Aerion and Crown Princess Rhaenyra," he declared triumphantly, his grin widening as the murmurs suddenly silenced as if shocked.

Myrra turned to Garrett, her eyes wide in shock.

Garrett looked equally stunned, the goblet he held frozen halfway to his mouth. He set it down, eyes wide as he shook his head in disbelief.

"Unbelievable…" a knight muttered under his breath, earning a nod from the man next to him.

The guards exchanged knowing glances, remembering the boy they had watched grow up, from the sullen boy of his youth to the young man he had become. "He deserves it" one said, raising a toast to the bastard turned prince.

A sense of warmth spread through the hall, and as laughter mingled with excitement, it felt as if the very walls of Stone Hedge shared in their joy.

"Long live Prince Aerion!" someone shouted from the back of the hall, and another voice quickly added, "And Princess Rhaenyra!"

—-

Corlys Velaryon looked down at the parchment in his hands, a cold, resigned and bitter anger flowing through him at the words on the letter.

"Again" he muttered sharply, Laenor flinched as if struck while even Laena looked vaguely uncomfortable. Rhaenys pursed her lips, as her eyes remained fixed on her Lord-Husbands face. 

"The King has slighted us once more!" he hissed, his grip tightening around the parchment until his knuckles turned white.

A heavy silence passed as Corlys thought on what had gone wrong.  

"He places a bastard above our house" he murmured, more to himself than to the others, leaning back in his chair in genuine disbelief.

—-

Daemon eyed his wife, sprawled on the ground and almost certainly paralyzed. He snorted derisively as he slid down Caraxes's back, his gaze locked onto her wide eyed form.

He approached slowly, grabbing a large rock from the ground as he did, his cloaks hood falling from his head as he adjusted his grip on the rock. 

"I always knew you had trouble finishing the job," she spat, though a hint of fear threaded through her voice.

That was all Daemon needed. That flicker of fear ignited something dark within him as he lifted a rock, his grip tightening around it. With a swift motion, he hurled it down at her face, the impact accompanied by a wet squelch.