The Red Woman

295 AC, King's Landing.

Robert slammed his first into the table of the Small Council chambers out of pure fury, damaging it as a result.

"I lost the battle, my brother, my reputation, my daughter, my fleet... and now this!"

Although any other man would groan in pain from the strike towards the table, Robert's fury had completely subsided the pain. There was only fire in his blue eyes... almost as bright as the moment when news of Lyanna Stark's abduction reached him many years ago. The Targaryen burn mark on his face also seemed to redden and glow to a degree.

"The Second Greyjoy Rebellion... all because of a single defeat. The Greyjoys will be able to do as they wish before the Reach's ships reach them and the smallfolk will begin to denounce me as their King, choosing the prince who they consider the 'rightful king'."

"I advised against facing the prince's navy, Your Grace, yet you did not hear me," Varys stated. Although he wished to say more in terms of criticisms, stating the faults of a furious Robert Baratheon was almost like asking for him to lash out to you... or worse. It was akin to asking for death, to be more precise.

Jon Arryn was the only person in the Small Council who could control Robert Baratheon and calm him to a degree. Apart from the Small Council, there was only Eddard and Lyanna Stark who could manage such a feat.

Robert sighed.

"All of you are to be dismissed for now. We will proceed with this Small Council meeting at a later date." Jon Arryn stated.

"Very well."

The three other members left soon after. While Aerion was storming King's Landing, they had hidden in one of the many tunnels within the Red Keep. Since he didn't care much for Robert's Small Council, Aerion did not search for them. These three members were Grand Maester Pycelle, Lord Petyr Baelish and Varys. The Master of Ships and the Master of Laws were not present as one was dead and the other, Renly Baratheon, was in Storm's End.

"All is not lost, Your Grace." Jon calmly stated. "The prince does not show great interest in the Seven Kingdoms at this current moment, apart from Dragonstone and the Kingdom of Dorne, which removes him from our current worries. However, ending this Greyjoy Rebellion will certainly be more difficult than the first time as..."

"Jon, Royal Navy or not, I will not bend to the Ironborn and give them their independence."

"You are the greater warrior, Your Grace, but do take a more cautious approach instead of wildly attacking the Iron Fleet like-"

"Balon Greyjoy is not Aerion Targaryen." Robert Baratheon fiercely countered. "If the Iron Fleet was to face his fleet, the dragonspawn would defeat him within a single day if not a couple of hours. But... I will heed your word, Jon."

"Send word to every House that their King has summoned their banners."

"Very well."

Robert touched the Targaryen mark on his face which only served to make him even more furious.

"I will bring the Ironborn before their Drowned God."

After that, Robert Baratheon had a new Warhammer forged for battle against the Second Greyjoy Rebellion.

~

295 AC, the City of Tyrosh.

Aerion sat in his study, continuing to learn the Dothraki tongue. Their customs were rather simple to understand as they favoured strength over anything else. The fiercest or strongest warrior of a khalasar would usually be the Khal as he was to deal with anyone who challenged his authority in single combat. Aerion planned to use this to his advantage but doing so now would only lead to undesired results. For one, he could barely speak the language which would make asserting his own authority very difficult. Secondly, he didn't have the combat prowess to face a truly great Khal without the use of his magic.

Both of these would be gained through practice and time.

"Why learn the tongue of horse-lovers and barbarians?" Oswell wondered.

"They say Khal Drogo is the fiercest of them all... with a khalasar at least forty thousand strong," Aerion replied. "He visits Pentos once in a while, which is the second closest unoccupied Free City to Tyrosh. If he does come looking for gifts after I take Pentos, which he likely will, I will be giving him my steel and taking his forty thousand men in exchange."

"A fair trade." Arthur smiled. "However, although forty thousand Dothraki riders would certainly aid in your cause, they will need to be disciplined and... reformed."

"Much like the pirates from before." Jaime agreed. "Which is why our prince is learning their tongue. If he cannot speak their language, then reforming the Dothraki riders would be a rather hopeless act."

Aerion, himself, wanted to take that next step towards becoming a mythical warrior... among the likes of prime Robert Baratheon, Ser Arthur, Ser Barristan, Daemon Blackfyre, Aemon Targaryen and even Jaime Lannister as of most recent.

"Being a genius, learning another tongue should not be difficult. But... if you intend to be the Khal of this forty-thousand strong khalasar, you will have to defeat Khal Drogo in single combat." Jaime stated.

"Which is why I have the two of you, Ser Arthur and Ser Jaime."

Aerion smiled.

"Eh, what about me?" Oswell replied. "I'm still a more capable warrior than the majority of the Known World."

"And you too, Ser Oswell."

Jaime smirked. "Our prince is already a greater warrior than you, Ser Oswell, and that is the truth."

"I wonder, what is it that he can he learn from a lesser man? Confidence? Over-confidence, perhaps..."

"Do not start this all over again," Aerion ordered. "You are to be the Lord Commander of my Kingsguard, yet you keep grudges from the past with your sworn brothers. Honestly, what am I to make of that?"

"If you want to make snarky remarks, direct them towards someone else. Preferably someone who opposes me."

"It's not the worst thing, my prince," Oswell replied with a smile. "Ser Jaime merely needs to feed his self-worth once in a while."

"I..." Jaime glanced at Oswell before turning to Aerion. "I understand."

"It would be best if we do not disturb the prince with our meaningless squabble," Arthur stated.

"Indeed."

Then, as Aerion was to return to his studies, someone knocked on the door.

"My prince... it is I, Noronos Nahiris."

"May I enter? A special guest would like to visit... you could say that she is a magician of sorts."

A magician of sorts?

"You may enter, along with this... magician."

The doors to his study opened, revealing a strikingly beautiful woman alongside Noronos. She had certainly caught his attention upon the first glance. The long and fire-like hair, strange red eyes, full breasts and pale skin made her stand out. Along with that, she was taller than most knights.

Since she was addressed as a magician, Aerion's interest only grew.

"Why have you come here?"

"To guide you on your path, Dragon Prince." Melisandre continued. "The Lord of Light has given you his fire for a greater purpose. One that you are not aware of yet..."

A red priestess of R'hllor...

"We do not require your drivel, priestess." Oswell shook his head. "Our prince does not believe in-"

"Ser Oswell." Aerion interrupted him. "I have once met a strange person who was capable of many things. Whether he was this Lord of Light or another God, I do not know. However, what I do know is that my blessing most certainly came from him..."

"He spoke to you?"

"Yes, he did. What of it?"

"It could not have been anyone but the Lord of Light, Dragon Prince." She glanced at everyone else in the room... especially Oswell. "I would like to go further but... the people around you would only serve as a distraction."

Aerion frowned. "If that is truly the case, then I don't believe your advice is necessary. I've done well enough on my own as it is."

"The threat that emerges is far greater than any ordinary man you have faced, Dragon Prince. If you are not prepared to face it, the endless night will come."

"The endless night?"

"Yes, a night without end. Only your fire can bring light and hope to the world. It is so because you are Azor Ahai reborn... I am certain."

"The witch is full of shit," Oswell remarked. "Our prince is himself and no one else."

"Could this Azor Ahai control the winds, sea and the dead along with his fire?" Aerion wondered.

"No... he could not." Melisandre admitted.

"Then do not compare him with me," Aerion replied, his violet eyes glowing with some ferocity.

He did not like how his closest companions were described as 'distractions'. This was coming from a person he had only known for a minute or so, as well... which didn't make it any better.

"I am quite busy at the moment. Perhaps we will be able to meet at a later date... Noronos, please lead the red priestess out."

"Ah, as you wish."

Melisandre smiled as she turned around and left without much resistance. "I will not be far, Dragon Prince."

Once Melisandre and Noronos left, Aerion's eyes did not leave the door for a few moments. It was as if he had been charmed by the red priestess... on purpose, of course.

"I'm glad she did not overstay her welcome. There was something about her... something that I can't put into words." Jaime remarked.

Oswell nodded. "I felt something similar... and it was dark, not even close to the light she preached of."

Arthur turned to Aerion. "My prince?"

"It's nothing." Aerion shook his head and stood up from his chair. "I just need to clear my mind with a duel."

"I feel the same way." Jaime agreed.

...

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Prince Aerion Targaryen vs Ser Jaime Lannister

Duelling Skill: Knight (☆☆☆) vs Mythical (☆☆☆☆)

Strength: 84 vs 92 (-8)

Endurance: 94 vs 93 (+1)

Dexterity: 89 vs 96 (-7)

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Jaime was a genius swordsman in his own right and in his very peak as a warrior while Aerion had much room to grow physically and was less experienced. He was still closer to his fifteenth nameday than to his sixteenth, after all.

Their 'duel' wasn't exactly a duel, it was more of a sparring session where Jaime instructed Aerion. After numerous clashes, even Jaime grew tired while Aerion remained determined to continue. The prince was naturally gifted, clearly, as he had greater physical attributes than most men. This was especially true when it came to his unnaturally strong endurance.

Meanwhile, Ser Oswell and Ser Arthur watched the whole affair and stood guard just in case.

"Are you done yet?" Jaime wondered.

"No, spar me again." Aerion smiled. "Or are you tired? Hahaha... now that I think about it, you do look a little tired, Ser Jaime."

"Tired? Of course not..." Jaime smiled. "I can keep going."

"Then let us continue."