Tattered Knight

His head snapped up, his crow was circling a part of distant forest. His eyes narrowed, Marq unsheathed his blade with a hum. Thorin eyeing them warily as a hand drifted to his belt.

Aerion and Marq knew what the crows caw meant.

It was a warning.

Aerion unsheathed his own blade, his eyes locked onto the forest, shadows seemed to shift and lurk just beyond the treeline. His eyes narrowed, his fingers tightening their hold over the sword hilt.

"Come out!" Aerion ordered, his back straight and gaze sharp. Thorin beside him, slowly and methodically pulled the large glaive off of his back, he'd clearly realised that Aerion had noticed something. 

A Knight, in full faded and scratched armour exited the treeline, his walk lazy and lackadaisical as he seemed to use a tall spear as a walking stick. Old, faded and torn blood red fabric ran down his back, gently dragging against the grass beneath him.

Bandits, dirty men in boiled leathers with axes, hammers, daggers and any weapon one could think of seemed to trail in his wake, slowly almost a dozen men revealed themselves. 

"This is not a fight you want, Bandit!" Thorin shouted, his glaive held loosely by his sword, his horse huffing in agitation. That only seemed to egg the knight on further, as he took another step forward. The bandits behind looked…not nearly as confident as their leader. 

"I'm no bandit" the tattered knight murmured, though his words seemed to echo and reverberate. "I'm a knight, so hand over the horses, your gold, and you can go" he offered gruffly, his hands trembling around the large spear. 

Aerion snorted, the sound seeming to catch the tattered knight's attention as his head snapped in his direction. The shadows behind his visor seemed to writhe and snap at his words, an odd chill running down Aerion's spine, though he pushed it down with familiar ease. 

The bastard swung himself off of the horse, his feet hitting the ground with a light thud. His blade gently spinning in his hands, "I'm a Knight" he declared, casually as he tilted his head, his purple eyes locking onto the knights. "You don't want this fight, bandit" 

"I'm a knight" the tattered knight growled "I was Knighted by the King himself" the man growled. Aerion chuckled easily at that, a smirk building on his face.

"Would you believe that I was too?" He asked, as he took a slow step towards the knight. "Maybe when I bring him your corpse, he'll recognise you" Aerion shot back, his eyes suddenly narrowed. 

"Not that wretch, you insipid fool!" The Knight growled, stepping closer, his hands trembling around the spear as he bent slightly, looking akin to a Lion, just before it pounced. "The real King! Jaehaerys!" He snarled, his voice shaking in rage. 

"That accursed Viserys will lead us to ruin!" The man shouted madly, the bandits behind looking uncomfortable. Aerion tilting his head in curiosity, his grip on the sword tightened. "I've seen it! I've seen it all!"

Aerions blinked, his breath involuntarily catching, the knight clearly noticed that, his eyes feverishly locking onto him. Aerion could finally see his eyes, burning a bright fiery orange that seemed to cast the shadows in his helm away. 

"You've seen it too" he whispered, his head tilting far, too far, so far it looked like it should hurt. His eyes expressed awe, fascination, and gratitude. "The lord of light has sent you" he hissed, the words cutting into Aerions very soul. 

"I have no idea of what you speak" Aerion denied, aware he had observers eyeing him curiously from behind. The man shakily took off his helm, his eyes burning….with tears, Aerion shakily stepped back. 

The man stepped forward, he had dark, tangled dark red hair that ran to his shoulders, his skin the colour of snow as he took even more steps forward, slowly closing the gap between him and Aerion. 

He stunk of ash and sulfur.

"You've dreamed, you dream, of the—the dance" he whispered, his hands trembling as they gripped the spear. Aerion swallowed, his eyes flicking to Marq and Thorin, both staring at the interaction with a mix of wary curiously. 

"I see the flame in you" he suddenly rasped, his voice seeming to gouge into Aerions brain as he took another step forward, Aerions sword raising shakily. "The lord of light had blessed us! You can see their deaths can't—"

"Shut your mouth!" Aerion snarled, the words escaping before he could catch himself. His sword raised, but his hands trembled. 

He could feel the eyes of Thorin and Marq burning into him. Was he supposed to strike this man down? How much had they heard? He felt oddly shaky, exposed, but he forced his voice steady. He couldn't afford to show doubt, not now.

"Come with us, to the King, or die," Aerion said, though the words came slower than before, his gaze locked onto the knight's feverish eyes. But what was this man? Could he be useful? His ravings about visions—of a dance, of fire—rang close to the dreams that had been plaguing him. 

Was this fate, coincidence, or something darker pulling them together?

No. Not fate. Not now. 

He was about to expose Aerion. The Skinstealer rumours were enough, if—if this madman declared him some kind of prophet or dreamer…his sword raised, his eyes narrowing. 

The tattered knight stepped even closer, he was within sword's distance, his spear almost useless at this range. His voice trembled as he spoke, his eyes unnaturally wide. "You've seen it too, the crown princesses death" he whispered, Aerions breath caught. 

"The dragons, the weirwoods, the brave father…your drago—"

He never finished

Aerions sword thrust forward, the tip driving through one of the man's eyes, the sickening crunch of bone and the grotesque squelch of parting flesh sounded out as the blade dug through the man's skull. The knight's body seized, a ragged gasp escaping his lips as blood poured down the blade. 

Aerion twisted his blade with brutal finality, feeling the skull give way as the knights legs gave out beneath him, Aerion ripped the blade out from his skull, blood trailing the sword in a scarlet arc. 

He collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, twitching as he crumbled to the ground below, blood pooling around his head in a dark shimmering pool. 

For a moment there was only silence. 

Aerion stood over the corpse, his chest heaving, the burning blood of the knight splattered across his face. The knight's body spasmed one last time, before going still. 

Marq and Thorin stared in wide eyed shock, Aerion had not only killed him, he had butchered him. 

He silenced him. 

Aerions purple eyes flicked up, the bandits were already retreating, their eyes wide in fear and shock as they scrambled back from their dead leader.. 

His eyes then flicked back down to the Knight,  and then to the large golden walls of Kingslanding in the distance. 

—-

Thoughts? 

Also thanks for all the ideas on how to have someone find out about Aerions heritage it helped a lot!