Horse

"She knows!" Aerion's voice cracked as he ran a trembling hand through his hair. The moment he left the Princess's gaze, dread clawed at him, pushing him into a frantic sprint to his uncle's chambers.

"Keep your voice down," his uncle snapped, though a cold, gnawing suspicion coiled in his gut. Aerion slumped into a chair by the desk, his leg twitching, eyes wide with panic.

"Speak," the older man commanded, settling heavily onto the bed opposite his nephew. Aerion exhaled, pressing his palms into his eyes before looking up to meet his uncle's gaze.

"Princess Rhaenys approached me, she seemed to be simply congratulating me on my performance" he started to explain, his Uncle's brows furrowing as he took in the words. "Then—she started to question me on my mother, my father—she mentioned my name being Targaryen…then—then she said I was 'Brave' but she mentioned it like it—"

"Calm down" His uncle's voice cut through the once again rising panic. Aerion took another deep breath, it took a while for it to sink in but she definitely knew, or maybe it was just a suspicion? 

'They'll kill you' 

He clenched his jaw, once again trying to calm himself as he looked down at the wooden floor, a red rug visible from the corner of his eyes. 

Meanwhile his uncles mind was working steadily, dozens of different solutions building in his mind but crashing down as the reality of the situation seemed to crash around him, 

"I know you and Garrett are planning to travel the Riverlands" he led on, Aerions head raising to look at his uncle. "Why don't you both leave early, tomorrow morning?" Aerions brows furrowed as his own mind raced.

"That will just make her believe I'm hiding something" he said as he eyed the older man.

"You are hiding something," his uncle said flatly. "That's why you're still breathing." Aerion grimaced, the words seeming to echo around his head. A moment of silence passed as Aerion thought on the man's words, before he nodded. 

"Can you let Garrett know we're leaving?" He asked the older man, his uncle nodding. Aerion sighing in relief, he needs to pack his stuff and prepare. 

—-

He had packed his things, his horse was prepared, Garrett was ready too. Everything was set for their departure. All that remained was to wait out the night in his chambers and leave at dawn.

Yet here he was, clutching the weirwood roots, hoping—perhaps foolishly—that the Princess would pass by. The memories of their last parting played through his mind. The exhilaration of the dragon ride, the intensity of that fleeting moment after.

His gaze drifted to the silver ring on his right hand, catching the fading light of the setting sun. The sky had deepened to a burnt orange, shadows stretching long across the garden as the sun began to dip below the horizon. He stared at the ring a moment longer, feeling the weight of it.

Would Rhaenys tell anyone of her suspicions? Had she already whispered his secret to someone else? The thought gnawed at him, though he tried to push it aside as he leaned back against the tree. The rough bark pressed against his neck, but he welcomed the sensation, grounding him as he closed his eyes.

The gentle breeze stirred his hair, carrying with it the rustle of leaves and the distant hum of insects. His heart, once racing, began to slow, matching the garden's quiet rhythm. Peace crept in, however fleeting.

The sky darkened as he sat there, the orange hue deepening to a dusky purple. Tomorrow, he and Garrett would head up the Kingsroad, passing through House Strong's lands, and crossing the Gods-eye. He envisioned the boat to the Isle of Faces, and then perhaps a journey through the Reach. Plans formed, shifted, and reformed in his mind, one after another.

Time slipped by unnoticed, the sun now fully set, and the garden bathed in twilight. His plans blurred with the soft sounds of the evening, and his thoughts wandered in the half-light.

—-

"My lord?" Aerion's voice was steady, though his eyes betrayed his unease as they flicked toward Lord Bracken. The older man stood opposite him, his expression heavy with regret.

"I cannot allow you to take Garrett with you," Bracken repeated, his words causing a slight shift in Aerion's stance, the unspoken weight of the moment leaving him off balance. He glanced around the lord's chambers, recalling how just yesterday, Lord Bracken had agreed without hesitation.

"May I ask why?" Aerion's brow furrowed. Yesterday, the plan had been sound. Now, something had clearly changed.

"Garrett is but a boy," Bracken began, his tone more reserved now. "Barely ten name days. With the threat of your heritage—" At Aerion's widened eyes, Bracken's expression hardened, though not without a trace of disappointment. "Of course I know. Your mother was my sister," he added, the words weighted with unspoken history.

Aerion swallowed, unsure of how to respond, but Bracken pressed on.

"What I mean to say, nephew, is that this journey will not be safe. I will not send my son into danger. If you wish to leave, you have my blessing. But Garrett stays here, with his family."

The finality in Bracken's tone was unmistakable, his usual warmth replaced by the cold authority of a lord protecting his own. Aerion spent a moment thinking, his mind racing, he could leave, but he'd be abandoning a part of his Knightly duties.

"And my duties to Garrett?" Aerion asked, his brow furrowed. Surely Lord Bracken wouldn't allow his son's training to be delayed indefinitely.

"If you leave, Garth can take over your duties until you return," Lord Bracken replied, his tone measured. "Remember, you can always stay—or even leave now and return to Stone Hedge." There was a brief softening in his voice as he looked at his estranged nephew, though the distance between them remained palpable.

"No, my lord—I…I do want to travel, to see more of the world," Aerion admitted, his words halting, the pull of adventure warring with his sense of duty. The idea of becoming a wandering knight, fighting bandits, exploring—it almost called to him. 

"Me and Garth were the same at your age," Lord Bracken mused, a rare softness in his voice. "You've enough coin to last a good while. Tour Westeros, see what needs seeing. Enter tourneys…live." He paused, eyeing Aerion with a mix of fondness and distance. 

"We've locked you up in Stone Hedge for far too long."

—-

Aerion rode out at dawn, the pale light of dawn breaking over the horizon as his black horse thundered down the Kingsroad. The wind snapped at his cloak, pulling it behind him like a banner, his sword rattling at his side with every jolt of the saddle. 

The road stretched out ahead, vast and uncertain, the weight of his uncle's words clinging to him like a shadow. The weight of his ring felt heavier than ever, the Princesses favour burning in his pouch.

—-

Thoughts? Again any ideas you have, any scenes you have in mind, just leave 'em below, always interesting to read through and very helpful lol.