Blood-Red Winds

The entire khalasar was dead silent as they witnessed their fierce and undefeated Khal face his first defeat. It was at the hands of a foreigner which left a bitter taste, though they could not possibly deny his fighting ability. The 'silver-haired, weak, boy' was now the mighty warrior who defeated Khal Drogo in single combat and nothing could ever change this fact. It was a tense and entertaining duel that came to the very last moments... where Aerion had ultimately triumphed.

In the end, this victory was the one that would push Aerion's reputation from a formidable knight to that of a mythical warrior. Jaime was certainly proud as he was the one to train Aerion half the time, which he shared with Ser Arthur. He couldn't help but smile remembering the days when Aerion couldn't even lift a sword... but here he stood, an even greater warrior than his father before him.

"Our prince is already a greater warrior than his father ever was and he is not even a man-grown yet." Ser Oswell remarked. "Give it a year or two and he will surpass you as well, Ser Jaime... haha hahaha."

"I would not mind that." Ser Jaime replied honestly.

"He won... but... his wounds..."

"Our prince will live, there's not a need to worry," Jaime assured Princess Jocelyn.

As per tradition, Khal Drogo's khalasar was now his to command. However, one obstacle remained...

Aerion clenched his fist as he summoned an inferno of fire. The scarlet flames engulfed his entire body as he slowly stood up. Some of the closer dothraki riders felt a great sense of fear as Aerion continued to burn. It was as if he was a man made entirely of fire... a truly terrifying sight.

"Bloodriders of the Khal... you may attempt to avenge him now."

As the flames cleared, Aerion looked relatively unharmed. The only trace of damage was the bloodstains on his plate armour and a scar going down his left eye. He decided to keep it as a reminder of the duel which led to his ascension to the highest echelon of duelists. Not only that, but he also kept it to remember the valiant efforts of Khal Drogo.

The wind blew his longsword upwards, after which he grabbed it and sheathed the sword into its scabbard.

Cohollo and Haggo remained mounted as they charged Aerion with their arakhs in hand. Then Aerion switched his tongue to the most common one as he spoke coldly.

"Fire on them."

"Yes, My Lord!"

The Soul Knights atop the walls formed their fire bows and arrows before launching the arrows with their terrifying strength. They had aimed directly towards the two dothraki bloodriders since shooting at an upward angle was not unnecessary.

Fsh... BOOM.

The two riders were blasted backwards before their horses could even breathe on Aerion, much less get within striking distance. The dothraki watched as the two bloodriders who attempted to charge Aerion went up in flames and turned into ash within mere moments.

"In my khalasar, there will be no free-reign," Aerion announced in the Dothraki tongue as loudly as he could. "This means that there will be no raiding, raping or taking slaves unless I say so. The only reward that you can expect for riding with me is honour and prestige. Gold and riches... if you desire that over anything else, you may as well ride away into the distance because you have no place in my khalasar!"

"Now, those who are not willing to serve me under these restrictions, you may scatter as I have no use for you."

The word spread quickly from the closest dothraki riders to those at the very back. It wasn't very surprising as the khalasar split into two, followed by another split amongst those who did not want to follow those restrictions. Khal Drogo's Ko's half of those who did not wish to follow Aerion, leaving him with twenty thousand.

While the split was occurring, Aerion looked at Khal Drogo's corpse and his urge told him to take the horse lord's soul... however, he decided against it.

I will honour your wishes... go on, Khal Drogo, ride into the stars and never turn back.

Khal Drogo had earned his respect and so, Aerion let him pass on into the afterlife. He burned his corpse as was the Dothraki tradition.

Once those under Khal Drogo's Ko's started to ride away, Aerion mounted Khal Drogo's red stallion and ordered his khalasar to turn to them as he rode to the front. The sky started to darken, followed by strikes of lightning. The wind began to howl as Aerion's violent gaze looked towards the two newly-split khalasars.

His longsword started to call upon the wind as five whole tornadoes began to form in front of the khalasars.

My rivals do not deserve any mercy...

"Watch as the wind tears half of them apart while the other half ride towards us like frightened mice!"

Suddenly, an image appeared before him... it was that of a silver-scaled dragon with soul-piercing emerald eyes. It spread its wings and flew towards the wind.

ROAAAAARRRR.

A terrifying roar rumbled across his body as the five tornadoes emerged at their full strength.

The image of the dragon faded soon after.

The dothraki witnessed the utter devastation that five of Aerion's tornadoes could cause. Once they got close enough to each other, one giant tornado formed and started to sweep the entirety of the rival khalasars.

Aerion himself was shocked as he watched almost every rider die within only ten minutes. He had certainly not expected the five tornadoes to join with each other to form an even more terrifying tornado...

Aerion's dothraki started to revere him as if he were some kind of God. He defeated Khal Drogo in single combat, rose from an inferno unharmed (and fully healed) AND summoned one colossal tornado to sweep two khalasars, totalling to the deaths of twenty-thousand horsemen.

These kinds of feats should only belong in legends... yet there he was, mounted beside them. The Dothraki, who followed the strongest, were strengthened in their resolve to follow him despite his rather horrendous-sounding restrictions. After all, they were the ones who had chosen him as their leader after Khal Drogo's death. Now they were truly convinced that their decision was not the wrong one.

Well... I thought that there would be some left.

Aerion sighed as he saw that every rider had fallen victim to the now blood-red tornado. He wanted to ride his khalasar against the remaining riders but that was no longer a possibility. Instead, he turned around to the walls of Pentos and proudly rode inside accompanied by his Soul Knights. He ordered the Dothraki to camp outside the walls until tomorrow, where he would ride to them and mark the start of a very long day.

Aerion could rest for now but he knew that some organising was in order. They had to get used to his leadership, he had to assign his own Ko's (or commanders) and discipline them properly. As he was the only one capable of that feat (who could also speak the Dothraki tongue), those tasks were his and his alone to complete.

After he dismounted from his red stallion, the feeling of fatigue struck him. The Kingsguard descended to meet him, along with the two royals.

"My prince, you look tired..."

"I... am..."

Aerion lost his feet and started to descend to the floor as his eyes began to close. Jaime caught him with great care before he managed to hit the ground.

"Then you must rest at ease, my prince... I will take care of the rest."

Aerion's closing violet eyes met Jaime's flashing and reassuring cat-green eyes. And so, he finally gave in to the urge for rest. After that, Jaime lightly traced his fingers across Aerion's scar.

The mark of a true warrior... you have certainly grown, Aerion. Perhaps you are not the shining knight that you wished to be, but you have become a warrior just as formidable. In the end, knighthood was never even your calling... you were born to be the King.

Jaime thought as he proudly smiled at the young man in his arms. It was almost as if Aerion had been his own son... the son that he never had, to be more precise. He was tall, charming, strong, confident, prideful and a great swordsman like himself. They shared so many similarities... if Aerion had Lannister features, people would certainly believe that the two were father and son.

But, alas, he was Aerion of House Targaryen. The blessed son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell.