Smallwood

He was still shaking, breath coming in ragged gasps as he stumbled unsteadily to his feet. His clothes clung to him, damp and heavy from the cold ground, his sword lay forgotten behind him.

The trees loomed, their silence thickening around him like a shroud. A burning suspicion churned in his gut as he turned slowly, his heart racing.

"That was the future?" he rasped, barely recognizing his own voice. It felt like a cruel jest. The wind began to sing, screeching like a harpy as it whipped through the gnarled branches.

"And my father?" he asked the trees, his voice swallowed by the howling winds. His hand brushed against the dagger at his back, the memory of Rhaenyra's horrific end replaying in his mind.

Shaking his head to dispel the dreadful thoughts, he took a deep breath. But the image of the bloody child lingered, whispering at the edges of his mind.

His grip tightened on the hilt as a chill ran down his spine. "Answer me!" he shouted, his voice cracking, aware that something—someone—was watching him. The wind howled, a dreadful song swelling in intensity.

"What do you want?" Madness tinged his voice as he screamed at the trees, their forms twisting in the violent gusts that tore at his cloak.

Maybe he was mad.

Then, as if stirred to life, the trees groaned, swaying slightly in the fierce wind. A weirwood, once mournful, seemed to sneer at him, sending a tendril of fear crawling down his back.

"I can't help if—if I don't know what I need to do!" he tried to explain, his voice shaky, dread coiling tightly in his gut. This was beyond him—these weren't his visions.

With a jolt and a sudden shift, he was somewhere else, staring into the eyes of an older, weary version of himself. Aerion's heart raced as he took in the opulent chamber bathed in sunlight, illuminating an unfamiliar city sprawling beyond the balcony doors.

The older Aerion's eyes—dark and empty—met his gaze. Ignoring him as he strode to the balcony, surveying the distant city.

A loud crash interrupted the moment as the heavy door swung open, and six men entered, the front figure unmistakable. Garon Blackwood, scarred and menacing, stepped forward, his raven-feathered cloak billowing behind him.

"The queen's dead," he announced, his words dripping with a twisted glee.

Older Aerion nodded, his expression solemn but resolute. "I know."

"Our ties of allegiance have been burned," Garon continued, his scarred mouth twisting as he drew his sword, the sound of steel ringing ominously.

"I know," the older Aerion replied, turning his piercing gaze on Blackwood. A glint of something terrible flickered in his dark purple eyes as his own sword sang as it was pulled from its sheath.

Then with a jolt Aerion was back in the forest, surveying his surroundings once more as the wind intensified, roaring like a tempest. He spent a moment glancing around him once more, his eyes sharp.

"What do you want?!" he demanded, piecing together the fragments of his vision. "Change?!" The wind fell silent, as if it had never existed.

His words echoed through the now-still forest. He felt the trees, almost imperceptibly, nodding in approval, their stillness affirming his resolve.

"You want me to change the future?" he confirmed slowly in disbelief. "How?" He asked breathlessly, he was a bastard, a Targaryen bastard sure, but a bastard nonetheless.

An image shot through his mind, he was looking into his own purple eyes, his reflection. A crow sat on his other selves shoulder, the talons digging deeply into his shoulder. 

—-

His horse beneath him ran, its speed incredible as he made his way further down the Kingsroad. His cloak snapped and writhed behind him, night was quickly falling.

He should be finding a spot to camp for the night, but he couldn't stay still. He needed to keep moving, the image of Rhaenyra's mangled body seemed scarred into his mind. The grotesque sound of a struggling child and tear flesh seemed to ring through his ears. 

The tall man from his vision, the one who had loomed over his crib, had to be his father. Baelon the Brave, dead of a burst belly, gone before Aerion had ever known him.

The sudden sharp clash of steel ahead snapped him from his thoughts. Instinct took over as he slowed, eyes narrowing.

He stabilised himself as suddenly he slipped into his crow's mind. He swooped down through the nearby trees, his eyes snapping around until he came across a curious sight.

A brown haired man, clearly caught by surprise fighting off a large group of bandits. His sword swinging in sharp precise arcs, the bandits barely avoiding them as they circled the man like wolves. 

He slipped back from the crows body, quickly turning his horse into the forest. He raced past trees in a blur, unsheathing his sword with a hiss. His eyes focusing as the bandits came into view, one had noticed his presence, shouting out a warning. 

Not quick enough though as he rushed past the men on horseback, His blade sliced through the bandit's throat in a single motion, blood spraying as the man crumpled, his warning dying on his lips. The others faltered, their surprise plain in the widening of their eyes.

He circled around, his horse releasing a huff as his silver blade dripped blood onto the ground below. His eyes focused on the bandits, still circling the other man. 

"Leave" he commanded, he'd much rather fight them, but without his armour on, and with the brown haired man circled by the near dozen bloodthirsty bandits. It wasn't the most fortuitous idea. 

The bandits eyed one another, deciding they'd find easier prey and cut their losses. Quickly retreating back into the forest seamlessly, like they were never there. 

"My thanks" the other man gasped, he had light brown hair and green eyes. He looked to be a few years older than Aerion, he was breathing deeply, having barely escaped death.

"Are you wounded?" Aerion asked curiously, his eyes roving over the man. He looked fine, but wounds could be hidden, lost in the chaos of battle until suddenly it was too late. 

"No" he said as he checked over himself, a large but shallow wound ran down his forearm. "Just scratched" he corrected as he looked up at Aerion. "You?"

Aerion snorted "No" his eyes roamed back to the forest. "I assume you need to pack up your supplies?" He asked the man, his camp supplies laid around the small clearing. 

The man nodded, "Do you mind watching out?" He asked as he quickly started to pack, his green eyes shooting to the surrounding trees. Aerion settled back on his horse with a nod.

"I'll watch" he confirmed.

"Thank you Ser…" The man led on, clearly asking his name.

"Aerion Rivers" he replied as his eyes shot over to the quickly packing man, noticing him pause briefly at the name. "What about you?" He asked the man, his curiosity clear. 

"Marq Smallwood" he replied, Aerions eyes widening in slight surprise. Smallwoods were a small noble house of the Riverlands, an acorn coat of arms on a yellow banner. 

"Why are you out here alone?" Aerion asked the noble curiously, his eyes still scanning over the forest as the man finished packing, putting the large load over the back of his grey horse. 

"My father, sent me to tour the Riverlands" Marq said as he climbed atop his horse, his form shaky from the adrenaline leaving his body suddenly. Aerion nodded it was quite common for a noble son to tour their regions, though alone was particularly odd, and dangerous.

"Alone?" He asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. Marq frowned, his eyes snapping onto the nearby forest as he trotted forward heading out of the forest.

"Yes" he replied, his tone slightly clipped. Aerion rode besides the man as they both kept an eye out for a potential ambush. 

A momentary silence overcame the young men, Marqs sword in his hand, prepared. Aerion had sheathed his blade, but was ready incase of a fight. But it seemed, for now the bandits had retreated. The two eventually got back onto the Kingsroad, the sun had fallen, the moon rising.

"I know of an inn nearby, I'll pay for your stay" Marq offered, breaking the sudden silence, Aerion turned his head towards the man, assessing for a moment before nodding.

Aerion rode alongside the man, the silence overcoming the pair. Aerions thoughts briefly went back to his visions, he needed to change the future. 

To stop…something…he still did not fully understand.

The image of Rhaenyras mangled body shot back through his mind, his fists tightened around the reins. He wanted to stop that, not that he knew how, or even how it occurred. 

"I've heard of you" the Smallwood suddenly said, breaking Aerions line of thought as he turned his head in surprise. "The Blackwoods" he informed, Aerion sighed in annoyance.

"Truly?" Aerion asked, resigned. Marq snorted as he nodded, his gaze briefly wandering upto the crow flying above them. 

"Aye, they are not friends of yours" Marq informed his eyes flicking to the younger knight. Aerion knew they'd been spreading rumours all over the Riverlands. 

'Skinstealer' the word was whispered into even the ears of smallfolk, memories of a bandit echoing through his head They'd spread the rumours far even that a bandit was scared that Aerion would steal his accursed skin.

Another moment of silence embraced them, Aerion eyed the older teenager for a brief moment before speaking. 

"Why are you on the Kingsroad alone?" He asked, his curiosity getting the better of him as he rode besides the man. Marq stiffened, his jaw briefly clenching as he clicked his tongue. "It's dangerous, especially recently, bandits have been getting worse" he pushed. 

"I am Heir of House Smallwood" he said, his eyes flicking to the dark sky above. His tone gruff and serious. Aerion blinked, surely that meant he should have more protection—

"Yet, my father does not want me Heir…" His voice was steady, but his knuckles whitened around the reins as he stared at the darkening sky. "But he cannot simply declare my younger brother Heir." 

Aerions eyes widened, his gaze locking onto Marq's as an unsettling realisation fell upon him. 

"Therefore he has sent me upon this tour, with no coin, no guards and no advice" Marq bitterly said, a scowl building on his face. 

"I must check in with all the major keeps to prove I've done the tour" he snorted "Almost impossible given I haven't the coin to stay in inns every night, therefore when I can, I must camp in bandit ridden forests" the teenager spat, his jaw clenching as he kept his green eyes focused on the Kingsroad ahead. 

A death sentence.

Aerion swallowed, pity for the older teenager blooming in his chest. Silence fell over the pair once more, Aerion thought back to the other teenager's offer, to pay for his room at the inn. 

That was an especially kind offer now with context, the weight of the coin pouch he'd been given by Lord Bracken now felt heavier than ever.

His eyes flicked over to the teenager, an idea forming in his mind. "I'm touring the Riverlands as well," he mentioned. The other teenager looked over in slight interest, the remains of anger still on his face. "Why don't we travel together?" 

—-

Thoughts? Kinda need them right now lol, but would you guys mind a small timeskip soon? A year or something along those lines?

Because I just had such a cool idea, and it basically ties everything together so well.

Anyway hope you enjoyed! Sorry this chapter kinda dragged though lol