Joust

He brushed past a pretty tall brown haired woman, as he eyed the seat where his Uncle was sitting yesterday. Among the Bracken retinue, only a few seats away from Lord Bracken himself. 

Said Lord spotted him, unseen to anyone a brief spark of hesitation lit in the Lord's hazel eyes before he spoke up.

"Aerion, dear boy!" He called out jovially, waving over the bastard. Aerion blinked in surprise and hesitated before approaching Lord Bracken, his other, far more estranged Uncle.

"My Lord" he said softly, bowing his head as he stopped within a few metres of the man. Lord Bracken nodded and waved him closer. 

"Sit, come sit" he said happily as he sat down "Amos is in the jousts, take his seat" he offered as he gestured to the seat directly next to him on his left. Aerion nodded, an odd sense of unease burrowing into him as he carefully sat.

"First I must congratulate you on your stellar performance" Lord Bracken remarked "You represented the best of House Bracken yesterday" he said seriously. 

Aerion felt a flare of embarrassment and pride rise in him that he couldn't fully quell as his eyes flicked to the arena. This felt very…strange, him and Lord Bracken had barely ever shared a word before.

"Secondly I must thank you" he said, this time a hint of humour in his tone "Watching your fight with the Blackwood boy may be the highlight of this trip" he japed. Aerion swallowed, his throat feeling oddly swollen.

"Thank you, My Lord" he said, an indecipherable mix of emotions rushing through him. He gently ran a hand through his hair as his eyes flicked across the grounds.

The wooden pen was gone, replaced by a single wooden fence nearly splitting the arena horizontally for the jousts. Lord Bracken's hand came down on his shoulder, a jolt running through Aerion at the unexpected contact.

"No worries lad, you must be—oh there's Garth" Lord Bracken interrupted himself, lifting his hand from Aerions tense shoulder and gesturing towards Aerions Uncle, the man atop a large brown horse.

The man clad in shining silver armour that reflected in the sun, a large yellow banner ran down his chest and back. Each side inlaid with the red stallion of House Bracken. 

He held a white and yellow lance effortlessly in his hands, doing the traditional lap around the arena to polite clapping from the Nobles, excited shouting from the smallfolk. 

Then his Uncle's competitor rode out, riding a large black horse, clad in plain, slightly dull silver armour with no coat of arms. Whispers broke out in the nobles section, excited shouts from the smallfolk.

"Mystery Knight" Lord Bracken murmured more to himself than anyone else, inadvertently catching Aerions attention.

"Truly My Lord?" He asked curiously.

"Yes, you'll get quite a few in a tourney this big" Lord Bracken answered as his eyes surveyed the mystery knight carelessly. Aerion leaned forward in interest, his eyes running over his uncle's competition. This would be a hard match, mystery knights were always tough. 

They both lined up, the arena quietened in anticipation, Aerion leaning further forward his eyes locked onto both forms opposite one another.

Then a horn blast echoed through the ground, the horses almost instantly charged. The silence of the arena had remained, the only sound the thuds of horse hoofs against the ground. 

Then as the two knights closed in on one another their lances met one another shields with an ear shattering crack. The mystery knight instantly sent flying off of his horse to the entertainment of the small folk. 

The smallfolk shouted in appreciation and joy, the nobles clapping politely. Aerion however was grinning as he clapped enthusiastically, Lord Bracken doing the same. 

His Uncle remained steady, not even flinching as his horse slowed to a trot and slowly lapped around the arena before exiting into a large tent.

—-

Then the tourney went on, and on, he knew the joust would also be held tomorrow. The joust today was just to thin the crowd from the good to the elite. Tomorrow however was a different story, apparently even The Rogue Prince would be involved.

Though he heard that from a giggling noble lady, so it could be entirely false.

His Uncle had faced four opponents so far, winning all with ease, though quite a few other competitors were doing the same. 

"Aerion, I was thinking of taking you in as a houseguard" Lord Bracken suddenly revealed to a now wide eyed Aerion. A houseguard was exactly what it sounded like, he would be a personal guard to House Bracken, it was…it was an honour.

Yet, his mind went back to the weirwood, the visions, the dreams, the—the skin changing.

He knew it was arrogant, but he couldn't help but think he was meant for more, for more than to be a personal guard.

"Truly?" Aerion asked, his voice betraying the hint of uncertainty he felt. If this was a week ago he would have instantly jumped on the offer. 

Again the visions shot through his head, sitting atop the throne, the fighting dragons and burning buildings.

Surely he was more than a houseguard.

"You've proved your skills" Lord Bracken chuckled, Aerions eyes flicked over to the man but…he looked strangely uncomfortable. "But, it also gives me, and you the chance to…connect, as family should"

Aerions eyes widened, his relation to Lord Bracken had never been mentioned by the man. His skin felt too tight, as though the offer was a chain being placed around his neck. He shifted in his seat, resisting the urge to pull at his collar.

"I'm honoured My Lord," he said carefully, "but, could I consider this?" He asked, his eyes sticking onto the Lord's face for his reaction. The man didn't look surprised as he nodded.

"Of course, just come to me whenever you have your answer" Lord Bracken responded, both of them turning back to the tourney. His uncle riding out of the tent, he had another joust. 

Aerion felt a sense of relief when Lord Bracken turned away, the idea of becoming a houseguard was…well it wasn't exactly unappealing. Great pay, simple work and he would start building bonds with his estranged family. 

He would spend the rest of his days at Stone Hedge, coming to events like this to guard the House. Maybe even find a wife, his fists clenched as his mind went back to the start.

He would spend the rest of his days in Stone Hedge. 

Every last day.

He remembered one of his dreams, when he was atop a dragon.

The memory wasn't his, but it overtook him like a storm—he was in the sky again, the wind bursting past him, his hair whipped back, the dragon beneath him roared, flames trailing in their wake. 

The snap of wooden crashing made him blink, the memories fading as he focused on the Joust. His Uncle once again won, doing the traditional victory lap before returning to his tent. 

His fists clenched, his right leg gently bouncing as he thought of his visions, the weirwood, his…skinchanging. He had to be made for more, not just a guard.

He needed to follow opportunities to chase after his visions, they were a gift, a blessing from the Gods.

He couldn't just stagnate.