Delight

"Second of his name! All hail His Grace!" Lord Hobert Hightower's voice echoed through the Kingswood as King Viserys lifted the young Prince Aegon into the air. Nobles roared their applause, but Aerion's sharp gaze settled on Hobert, his eyes narrowing slightly.

They were at the royal hunt, a grand event for Prince Aegon's second name-day. Yet amidst the celebrations, Aerion could feel the undercurrent of politics swirling around him.

Weaving through the throng of nobles, Aerion brushed past Lord Strong as he made his way to the Hightower lord. 

"Lord Hightower," Aerion greeted, his voice low beneath the surrounding cheers. Hobert, elder brother to Otto Hightower, turned slowly, and met Aerion's gaze.

"Lord Brightflame," Hobert replied, offering a shallow nod. "What can I do for you?" His head tilted slightly, a hint of amusement in his tone.

"It's Prince now," Aerion corrected gently, though his words carried a sharp edge.

Prince Aerion Brightflame—the tale of the bastard turned prince had already spread like wildfire among the smallfolk, inspiring awe and wonder. But among the highborn, his newfound status evoked little more than irritation. 

Hobert's smile tightened, and with a saccharine tone, he responded, "Of course, my Prince. What is it you need?"

Aerion's jaw clenched briefly before he spoke, his gaze hardening. "I was curious about the matter of succession," Aerion said, his voice steady but laced with frustration. "When exactly did it change?"

Hobert's eyes narrowed slightly, his lips parting as if to speak, but Aerion cut him off, his voice cool. "Because, as I recall, Princess Rhaenyra is still the heir. Unless…something has changed?" He tilted his head, genuine curiosity in his tone but with a cutting undercurrent that didn't go unnoticed.

There was no respect in Aerion's gaze for men like Hobert Hightower—a man who already held more power than most in the realm yet always sought to claw for more. It disgusted him.

"The succession remains as it stands," Hobert began, his words measured. "But—"

Before he could finish, King Viserys approached, cradling the young Prince Aegon in his arms. Hobert immediately quieted, shifting his attention to the King. Aerion followed suit.

"Aerion!" Viserys greeted warmly, his face lighting up with a broad smile. Aerion returned the smile, briefly glancing at the young boy in the King's arms. Aegon was clutching a wooden dragon, its wings finely engraved.

"Your Grace," Aerion said, bowing deeply, though the formality quickly faded as Aegon babbled and, with a sudden childish roar, hurled the toy at a passing lord. Aerion chuckled despite himself.

"Aerion, I must correct a grave error," Viserys said, his tone jovial but catching Aerion's attention. "I've yet to properly introduce you to my family."

Aerion nodded, a smile forming. It was true, after receiving his lands and his new title, he had barely stayed in the capital for more than a week before rushing off to his lands. 

"I'd be honoured, Your Grace," Aerion replied. He did like his eldest brother; Viserys was a good man, and Aerion respected him for his genuine kind nature.

"Would you care to hold him?" Viserys asked, his eyes drifting to a now-restless Aegon. The boy looked down petulantly at the discarded wooden dragon.

Aerion bent down, retrieving the toy before offering it back to the Prince, who grabbed it eagerly. "I would be honoured, Your Grace," Aerion repeated, taking the fussing child into his arms. 

Aegon squirmed only briefly before settling, gnawing on the wooden dragon toy. The sight stirred memories in Aerion—of his own, now smashed wooden dragon toy.

Together, Aerion followed Viserys through the parting crowd, the nobles watching the King and his youngest brother with keen interest.

As they walked, Aerion couldn't help but feel the weight of his new position. The boy in his arms, the cheers from the crowd—it was all a reminder of the delicate line he now walked as a Prince of the realm.

They arrived at a royal carriage, where Queen Alicent Hightower stood. Her belly, swollen with child, did little to diminish her beauty, her green dress flowing elegantly around her. Her eyes met Aerion's, and for a moment, there was something unreadable there—a mixture of curiosity, and perhaps…unease.

"Your Grace" Aerion bowed towards the woman, his eyes momentarily flicking to Rhaenyra, the Princess stood to the side, watching the interaction with a guarded expression.

"Prince Aerion" The Queen replied smoothly, her voice calm and composed. "It's good to see you, how have you found Crows Point?" She asked, her tone genuine but her smile not reaching her eyes. 

"It's been well Your Grace, I must thank the crown for the sizable donation" he said with a nod, though she most certainly had not part in that, her father had most likely discouraged it.

The Queen nodded, her eyes flicking to Aegon, the boy-prince chewing on the dragon toy. "Do you want him back, Your Grace?" He asked the Queen, but before she could respond Viserys spoke up, 

"I'll take him" The King said, his hands grabbing the small boy carefully from Aerion. Rhaenyra then took a step forward, catching Aerions attention. 

"Princess" he bowed his head, the Princesses lips twitching at his words.

"Ser" she responded, the familiar greeting sending a spark through him. Aerion stepped forward, The King eyeing the movement curiously before his attention was dragged away by an approaching Lord Lannister, quickly handing Aegon over to Alicent as he left. . 

"You look well" he said, his eyes running across her form. Silver rings wrapped around her pale fingers, glinting in the sun's light. She was wearing leather riding leathers. A beautiful red and gold leaf pattern embroidered onto the clothing. 

"And you" she responded, her head tilting slightly as her eyes ran across his form. 

Rhaenyra's gaze lingered on Aerion, a flicker of contemplation in her eyes. The chaos of the Royal Hunt surrounded them, Alicent nearby but busy fussing with Aegon.

"Your new title suits you," she said, her voice just above a whisper, "Prince" Aerion felt a chill run down his spine at the word. 

She had always referred to him as 'ser' in the past, but the way she said 'Prince' now was almost teasing, as though she were testing the word on her tongue. 

"I'm glad you think so," Aerion replied, his voice equally soft. He looked upon her, his eyes scanning her form. The riding leathers suited her, the way they moulded to her figure was…eye-catching. 

"You should be riding Syrax," he stated, tilting his head. "Why did you come here in a carriage?" Rhaenyra's eyes flicked to the side, her expression declaring her annoyance to the world as she replied, 

"Syrax isn't in the mood to fly today." Her eyes shot up to the sky, as if she expected the great beast to just appear. 

"She's been..." Rhaenyra's voice trailed off, her eyes returning to Aerion, "Moody lately." She ended with a sigh.

Aerion couldn't help the way his lips tugged into a smile. "Does she often…get moody?" He asked curiously, a hint of humour underlying his tone. Rhaenyra scoffed, rolling her eyes. 

"All dragons do" she responded easily as she took another step forward. 

"Skori ao jiōragon aōha own zaldrīzes, kessa ūndegon" she said teasingly, her tone switching as a captivating accent took hold of her speech. 

"I'll know when you have dragons?" He attempted to translate in confusion, his head tilting as the High Valyrian echoed through his mind. Rhaenyra smirked as she shook her head. 

He had started to learn the language recently, Rhaenyra suggesting it to him in a letter.

"When you have your own dragon, you'll see" she translated correctly, Aerion snorted at her words. Shaking his head as he eyed her, a hint of regret burning in his eyes. 

"Your father would never let me have a dragon" That wasn't the only issue of course, but he was a bastard. No matter his legitimisation, he was born a bastard and the realm knew.

Bastards couldn't claim dragons, only the true, noble blood of Old Valyria could. 

"Don't give up just yet" the Princess replied, her voice soft and smooth as silk. 

"What's that meant to mean?" He asked tilting his head, anticipation for her next words stirring in him. She took another step forward, now only feet apart, for the first time ever, he'd noticed he was now taller than her.  

"I'm the Princess of Dragonstone am I not?" She said confidently. Rhaenyra stepped closer, her lilac eyes shimmering with a challenge.

"It wouldn't be out of place for me to invite a prince of the realm, to my own keep" she said, her voice low and steady, a smile playing on her lips that suggested more than mere invitation.

He caught on quickly, 

The Dragonmount.

"You wouldn't—"

"I can" she interrupted, her light lilac eyes burning into his dark purple ones. 

He believed her.

But he couldn't help the doubt that creeped in, he was still small, his house only had one member, his keep was small, his lands growing but still…he was weak.

His old dreams of a black, scarred purple eyed seemed to echo through his mind as he furrowed his brows. 

"The realm would never—"

"I would" she interrupted "I will" she finished, her tone steady, her light eyes fixed on him.