Rain

Aerion woke, his breath coming ragged gasps as he shakily stood. He looked around him in confusion, he was in a large field, the sky bright blue and tall grass gently brushing against his knees. He looked around, his hand gently resting upon his sword hilt, the air was—was too thin—

The world screamed.

The very ground shook, a deafening roar erupting from behind him as his form was suddenly engulfed in shadow. He turned, his heart smashing rapidly against his ribs as he looked up in sudden, encapsulating fear.

A dark green behemoth, its wings spread looking more like a mountain than a dragon as it raised into the air with heavy, thunderous beats of its wings. The grass around him being torn from the ground by the sheer force. 

Aerion staggered back, his purple eyes wide as goosebumps raised on his arms and his heart harshly thudded against his ribs. Suddenly a deafening screeching roar erupted from behind him. Before he could turn his head, the sky seemed to break.

A dark red dragon slammed into the green one with a thunderous impact, a roaring shockwave emitting from the two beasts that sent Aerion stumbling back as his hands clenched, his pupils dilating at the sight.

They snapped at each other, the red dragon's back legs clawing at the other dragon's torso ruthlessly as its teeth latched onto the green dragon's throat, fire emitting from its jaw as it tore away at the beast. 

The green dragon wasn't idle, its throat lighting with roaring flames that suddenly seemed to erupt from its maw with a crack. The air seemed to boil and broil as the heat invaded the sky. 

Aerion eyes were wide, he knew this was a dream—the air—the sounds—this was one of his dreams undoubtedly. So when he felt something calling—begging in the corner of his mind for his attention he turned his head away from the clash of titans. 

His breath caught at the sight, a dragon, smaller than both of the fighting ones. It scales a midnight black, its eyes burning a resplendent purple, deep jagged scars covering its head, a large burn running down its tail. But what really caught Aerions head was the scales and horns atop its head, he stepped closer. The formation was familiar, the scales spiked up, akin to his circlet. 

THUD

He took a fearless step forward, then another and another. Each step he took toward the black dragon seemed to echo louder, a steady, rhythmic thud ringing in his head. It wasn't just his heart—it was the world itself, pulsing.

THUD

His open palm slowly reached out to the dragon's maw, the dragon was most definitely bigger than Syrax. His palm connected gently, the sounds of the thunderous battle behind him muting at the contact. The scales were rough and sharp, burning heat lingering just beneath that seemed to crack and roil at his touch. 

THUD

He took a shaky breath, his mind overcome as thudding seemed to ring through his ears, his hands running gently across the damaged scales, scars gouged deep into the dragon's form. 

The ground shifted, he stumbled.

And then woke, his body shooting up as a gasp escaped his clenched teeth, his form covered in sweat as he took deep, heavy breaths. His skin burned as he threw a heavy blanket off of his form.

The cold air rushed onto his bare body, the only sounds he could hear was bustling and clinking from below, clearly people eating.

—-

He wandered down to the inn's ground floor, it was quiet, only a few people were up this early. Marq was quietly eating in the corner of the room, Aerion walked over, the older knight noticing him and bowing his head.

That was new, ever since the…incident with Blackwood and its aftermath, Marq had been far more…subservient. Even though the man was an heir to a noble house, he was usually quite the proud man, and still was.

Yet he still bowed his head, still followed in Aerions wake. Aerion had to admit, it sparked a sense of pride in him, to have a noble, someone who is supposed to be above him, a lowly bastard, bow…

He shook his head, taking a seat across from the Heir. A blonde haired serving woman quickly approached. "May I get you anything Ser?" She asked Aerion, eyeing the sword on his hip for but a moment. 

Aerion hummed "Bread and Ale" He requested, the blonde woman nodded and walked off. Aerion fumbled around in his pouch, fetching a silver coin and placing it onto the almost empty wooden table.

"How long will we stay in the city?" Marq asked curiously, Aerion hummed, tilting his head to the side as he thought. He was here to meet a blacksmith, there was also a small tourney going on.

"No more than a week I presume" Aerion answered easily. The blonde serving woman coming back with a plate, Aerion blinked when he noticed a bowl of soup on the plate as well. 

He was about to speak up when the woman spoke. "It's on him" she said as she gestured towards a nearby knight, the unfamiliar man eyeing him curiously. Aerion turned his body, confusion running through him as he eyed the man. 

Casually he gestured for the man to join them, his eyes flicked back to the soup and bread.

He wasn't eating that anymore. 

The red haired man walked over, a glaive strewn casually on his back, multiple daggers at his hip. He sat down next to Marq confidently as he eyed Aerion. 

"You are?" Aerion asked, the unfamiliar man. Marqs narrowed eyes were locked onto the man too, both of them cautious. 

"Thorin Reyne" the man smirked, Aerion recognised the name, the second born son of Lord Reyne of House Reyne, a fairly rich house in the Westerlands. He had briefly watched the man Joust in Aegons tourney, he had never faced him though.

A brief silence took over, though Reyne quickly broke it. His green eyes glinting "You're entering the tourney?" He asked, tilting his head as he eyed the young bastard. 

"I am" Aerion answered bluntly, still…perplexed by this man's presence. 

"I shouldn't be surprised, a man of your growing reputation" Reyne shot back quickly, seeming totally at ease.

"My reputation?" He questioned, these days he's had two very separate reputations that seemed to hang around his shoulders like a cloak.

The young, talented and charming tourney knight.

Or

The Skinstealer, a bastard who delved into the deepest of magics. 

"For entering near every tourney in the realm" Reyne clarified with a chuckle. "Will you be entering the melee?" Aerion thought for a moment before shaking his head in the negative.

"Most likely not, why?" Aerion asked, suspicious. Marq following the conversation with narrowed eyes, the heirs tanned fingers gently tapping against the wooden table. 

"I was hoping to fight you" Thorin answered, a grin on his lips. "Rumours say you're quite the gifted bastard." Aerion clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing slightly at the man. 

"Then I'll enter the Melee, you can see if it's only rumour" he said, his casual nature forced as he got to his feet. He left, his feet carrying him over to the stairs, they ought to be leaving soon anyway.

Though the familiar blonde serving lady stopped him, her hand gently placed into the crook of his arm. He turned, his eyes meeting hers, frustration still boiling through him. 

"Ser, we've heard tales of bandits across the Kingsroad" she warned, Aerion nodded, fetching a silver coin from his pouch and handing it to the woman and heading up the stairs.

It was common practice at inns, especially on the Kingsroad. Bandits were always lurking around, and warnings were always appreciated. 

—-

He sighed, wearing only light plates across his form, dark riding leathers underneath as he walked over to his dark horse. His crow perched on the inn's roof, Marq followed behind. Both of them got atop their horses, prepared for the rest of the journey to the capital. 

"Oh, I'm leaving as well" an aggravating voice called from the inn's entrance. The red haired man walked over to the stables, getting atop his white horse. Light dark red armour covered his form, he'd clearly heard of the bandit rumours too. "We'd might as well leave together"

Aerion didn't particularly want to, but the man would be an extra body in case of a bandit attack. "Come then" he called, his horse trotting gently down a dirt path, making their way to the Kingsroad.

"I assume you've heard?" Marq asked Aerion, the bastard nodding in confirmation.

"Bandits," he answered, "No real issue." he reassured. 

"No" Marq replied as the three rode side by side, Aerion in the centre. "A rogue knight is leading them" Marq scoffed.

Aerion snorted "Gods" he muttered, these days plenty of knights were going 'rogue' and leading brigades of bandits and the like. 

"Costs of peace" Reyne replied, and he was right, it was getting close to a near 80 years of peace in Westeros. Some knights didn't like that, they got tired and bored of protecting lords and nobles from their own shadows. 

So they went 'Rogue', became robbers, thieves, the very things they were knighted to protect innocents from. 

Aerion thought that it was honourless, but what would he know of honour? He was born stained, his honour was decided before his own birth. He'd placed a crown not of his own upon his head and made someone kneel. 

He was about as honourless as one could get. 

Not even an hour of casual riding later, his crow cawed.

—-

Thoughts? I do need some help though, I need Aerions heritage to be revealed. I need it to come out and have some important figures learn of it.

But how the hell am I meant to let it get out though? Realistically Rhaenys isn't just gonna start speaking about it, neither is his Uncle or Aerion himself.

I was thinking about having Otto find out about it, but I really don't know how he possibly realistically could, or would find out. So I might have to put that on hold until I can think of a good reason the secret would be released.