Crows Point

6 Moons Later

—-

"My Prince" Maestor Vaeron acknowledged as he walked into Aerions solar, handing him a letter, the three headed dragon wax seal keeping the contents safe. 

Aerion casually ripped the letter open, his eyes scanning over the page quickly as his brows furrowed. The purple eyed, silver haired Maester watched Aerion almost eagerly, he was a young man, a dragon seed from Dragonstone. 

"A royal hunt" Aerion murmured "for Prince Aegons second name-day" he informed the maester who hummed to himself. 

"Do you think the king intends to name the prince heir?" The slightly older man asked, curiously, though a flicker of anticipation lit in the man's eyes. Aerion shrugged, pursing his lips. 

"I could not say" Aerion said as he folded the letter, placing it on his wooden desk. He stood, his eyes flicking to Vaeron. 

The maester in the last 6 moons had become his right hand, he was knowledgeable, incredibly so and their shared dragons blood seemed to only further their growing bond. 

They walked together out of the solar, Vaeron at his side, as they passed through the halls of the small but steadily improving castle. Aerion broke the silence. "How is the archery coming along?"

"The smallfolk take to it with surprising skill," Vaeron replied with a satisfied nod. "The children enjoy it, and it keeps them occupied while their parents work the fields."

Aerion nodded, pleased. It had been one of his early initiatives—archery lessons for the young, a simple way to pass on useful skills and instil discipline. It served the people well, but it also ensured a stronger connection between them and their prince.

When they reached the courtyard, they found a lesson in progress. Children not much younger than Aerion himself had been when he started training were diligently practising with their bows. As Aerion approached, heads turned, and the murmurs of "My Prince" rippled through the small crowd. Each bow of respect stirred something deep within him—a mixture of pride and fierce protectiveness.

Aerion nodded back, his gaze rising to the banner fluttering above his castle. His banner. A black crow with gleaming lilac eyes, stark against a blood red field. The sigil of House Brightflame.

His house. His legacy.

Everything he had fought for, everything he had built—it was here, solid, real. And it was only the beginning.

As Aerion made his way to the stables, Vaeron trailed close behind, the Maester's sharp purple eyes scanning the keep. His gaze lingered on the walls and towers, still in need of repairs, always calculating the problems that had yet to be solved.

They were a small house, after all. With a limited budget. The sum of coin King Viserys had gifted him to restore the castle had been generous, enough to make the keep habitable again. Lord Bracken, his uncle, had sent skilled workers, guards, and additional funds to support him. 

Without their combined help, Aerion knew House Brightflame would still be little more than crumbling stone and forgotten banners.

But now, much of that coin was gone. The savings that remained were carefully stored, while the taxes collected from the smallfolk went directly back into maintaining the castle and improving the lives of his people.

Aerion glanced around, noting the fruits of their labour. The walls stood firm, but the scars of time were still visible in the cracks that ran through the stone. There was so much more to be done, and yet…there was pride in what had been achieved.

This place, this keep, was his. A small fortress in the Crownlands, just an hour's ride from the Riverlands border. He eyed the nearby stables, one for the horses, the other for his dogs. 

Quickly he approached, his mind sensing the building excitement of the animals as opened an iron gate that held them within the large stables. Familiar scarred dogs swarmed him. 

Aerion chuckled as he dropped to his knee, these were the same dogs he'd freed from the pits. Their loyalty had remained and only strengthened with time. Not only that but they were healing, truly healing, their scars remained but they no longer lashed out mindlessly.

They trusted him, not because he forced them but because he trusted them in turn. 

Rumours of that day still flew through Westeros.

The 'Skinstealer' name only seemed to gain more traction than ever. Guards that had been sent to search the pits must have found what remained of the spectators, clearly they had spread the tale.

He knew the way nobles eyed him now, avoided visiting his keep when they passed, the air of distrust that seemed to linger in their gazes. 

But that didn't matter to him, his people trusted him. 

"My Prince" Vaeron caught his attention, a letter held in his hand, Vaerons personal assistant scurrying off back into the castle behind him, 

"Who's that from?" Aerion asked as he stood, grabbing the letter from the Maester. Eyeing the familiar three headed dragon seal, a small falcon of house Arryn inlaid on the dragon's chest, a smile built on his face. 

Vaeron didn't answer, the man could tell by Aerions face he'd noticed who's seal it was. Dogs scurried around his feet, their heads brushing against him as he gently handled the envelope.

Aerion carefully broke the seal, unfolding the letter with an eagerness he tried to suppress. His eyes skimmed over the lines of Rhaenyra's neat handwriting, his lips twitching slightly as he read her familiar tone.

She spoke of her restless days at court, of the endless bickering among the lords, and of Syrax's latest flight over Blackwater Bay. He could almost hear her voice in the words, see the subtle smirk on her face as she teased him about his isolation in the keep.

But there was something more, hidden beneath the casual tone—a certain heaviness that mirrored his own sense of duty. Her words, though light, carried the burden of expectations, the weight of her position as Princess. Aerion paused, his fingers brushing over the parchment.

Do you ever wonder, Aerion, if we are made to do things we don't want to? 

The line stood out, more personal than the rest. He stared at the words for a moment longer before folding the letter and setting it aside. He sighed, feeling oddly sombre now he had finished reading.

"My Prince" Vaeron said, his words lifting Aerions attention from the letter, an apprehensive look upon his face. "Have…you ever thought of asking for her hand?" 

Aerion blinked in surprise, he hadn't thought Vaeron would have been so…blunt. He frowned, considering his words for a moment before he spoke.

"I have" he answered, his lips pursed, dogs yapping and barking at one another in the background. "But it would ultimately be futile" he answered, a pang of regret burning through him. 

Vaeron frowned "You would only strengthen her claim, no?" He asked as Aerion left the stables, the dogs now playing amongst one another. Vaeron followed in his wake as they continued walking around the keep. 

"I would" he agreed, he was slightly embarrassed too admit how much he'd thought on this potential scenario. "But, with the recent dispute between House Velaryon and Targaryen, I assume that when Corlys returns from the stepstones—" 

"—he'll be rewarded" Vaeron interrupted, his eyes widening in realisation. The man would be given a reward to bring the two families closer, dissolve tensions and for his part in the war on the stepstones. 

That reward would most likely be a Royal match. 

Aerion nodded, oddly solemn as they walked further through his keep. Vaerons eyes slid over to the younger man, "Have you thought of joining the war?" Vaeron asked, perhaps he could earn her hand?

Aerion shook his head "This is the beginning of my house, my legacy" Aerion said as he looked up to the banners flying high on his castle walls. Vaeron sighed eyeing the Prince. 

"I can take over your duties?" The maester offered. Aerion shaking his head, he'd thought on it for a long time already.

"My people need to see me, they need to be loyal to me, I cannot simply disappear for years on some quest for a woman's hand and let the most crucial time in my house's history pass me by" Aerion declared, conviction in his tone as his eyes remained on his banners. 

—-

Thank you so much for the kind reception on the last chapter, this is a short one because I want your opinions!

What should the next arc be? I'm thinking it's getting closer to Dragon time!

Also yesterday we got like 100+ powerstones in one night!! Seriously thank you guys, we're now the 24th top fic in the world rn!