Defiance

Aerion swallowed his skin breaking out in a sweat as he eyed the Princess standing in front of him, her head slightly tilted as her eyes ran over his wide eyed form. 

Her hair the same platinum blonde as her father, she looked around the same age as Aerion, maybe a year older. She was wearing a white and gold dress with rings on her slender fingers.

"I said, who are you?" She asked again, ignoring his words as the bald Kingsguard behind her eyed him seriously, his hand resting on the sword at his waist. 

"Aerion Rivers, Princess" he said softly, his back gently pressed against the pale bark of the weirwood.

The Princess hummed "You were getting quite…comfortable with that tree" she remarked, a hint of amusement in her tone "Did you grow up in the north?"

He shifted uneasily, a flush rising to his cheeks, this could be his cousin, his sister and she didn't even know—he didn't even know. 

"No, no I grew up in the Riverlands, Princess" he said as he took a wary slow step forward off of the roots of the weirwood onto the flat grass, the Princess still quite a few metres away.

He noticed uneasily as the Kingsguards hand tensed around the blade.

"If you could leave?" she said, more of a command than a request, her tone now disinterested as she walked over to the large tree and casually sat among the large roots. 

He blinked, stepping back, feeling as if someone had poured water over his head. He clenched his jaw and nodded stiffly. 

"Yes Princess" he said dully as he turned, the peace of the castle replaced by his swirling, burning thoughts. He walked back into the castle's busy corridors as he walked back the way he came, his fists clenched tightly. 

This was the difference between them, he was a bastard and had no power, she wasn't and had the world at her feet.

He felt the familiar burning envy he experienced when he saw her atop her dragon rise once more, his previous feelings of peace turned to ash.

—-

He swung his sword harshly, the yard filled with the clashes of steel as he and his uncle clashed. His usually calm style of fighting replaced by a vicious far less disciplined approach.

His uncle leaned back, avoiding the telegraphed swing and brutally planted his boot into Aerions stomach, the boy gasping and dropping the sword in response. Aerion dropped to his knees, his hands pressed tightly against his abdomen.

"You're angry" his uncle said from above him, Aerion breathing was quick and shallow as his anger only burned brighter at his uncle's words. 

He shot up with a snarl, his hand grabbing his fallen blade in a smooth movement he swung upwards, his blade a deadly arc. 

His uncle leaned back quickly, his eyes wide as the blade passed his face, the blunt blade a blur as it suddenly changed direction again, clashing against his uncle's blade with a clang!

His uncle's foot shot out once more but Aerion saw it coming, stepping back quickly deflecting a thrust of his uncle's blade with a swing and stepping back into close range. 

His anger scorched all the brighter.

Suddenly a fist smashed back into his face, blood surging out from his mouth as Aerion stumbled to the side. Barely catching himself before his face planted into the ground. 

His breathing shaky as he spat blood into the training yard ground, wiping his mouth with his armoured hand. His arms protesting as he slowly pushed himself back to his feet, his tourney blade left on the ground below.

He turned his head towards his uncle, his jaw clenched as he stared up at the narrow eyed man. 

"What's gotten into you?" his uncle spat in anger. Aerion snarled in response, his fists clenching. 

"I saw them" Aerion said harshly, "I saw—saw the Princess" he hissed in a quieter tone, the surrounding clashes of blades on the large training yard deafening.

His uncle blinked and looked surprised as he eyed his nephew. A sudden glimmer of pity showed through his hazel eyes as he looked down at the teenager.

"I—I saw her…she—she just" Aerions breathing picked up in intensity as his fists clenched all the harder. 

"You—you didn't think they would…what, recognise you?" His uncle asked hesitantly, his frown dissolving. Aerion just glared, he felt like his teeth were chattering even though it wasn't cold. 

"I wanted her to" he said shamefully as he looked down at his feet. His uncle stepped closer as he took off his thick leather gloves, leaving them hanging on his belt.

Aerion was about to speak once more when his uncle's hand shot out and grabbed his face, pulling his face up to stare at the man seriously, the calloused skin rough against Aerions soft pale skin.

"They cannot" he said seriously, his hazel eyes narrowed as he stared down at his nephew "They can never know" he said quietly, the sounds of clashing blades an ugly crescendo in the background. 

"What?" Aerion hissed, his eyes widening in slight disbelief as he defiantly pulled his face away from his uncle's grip. 

"You think they'll accept you?" His uncle whispered harshly "You're a bastard" he said with hesitation, Aerion stepped back, an odd feeling of stinging pain spreading through his chest.

"W-What?" He said, his jaw clenched as the distance between them increased. Memories of Rhaenyra's mocking joke and casual dismissal ran through his mind.

"What do you think they'll do if they find out?" His uncle stressed, stepping forward carefully as if Aerion was a wild beast. 

"I-I don't—" 

"You'll be a stain, imagine the strain on The Kings reputation and marriage, or the ruins it would make of Prince Baelons legacy, the sheer amount of enemies Prince Daemon has…" his uncle took another step closer "You—you would be killed" he whispered with sinking finality.

Aerion's knees buckled as the weight of his uncle's words settled in. How foolish had he been to think they might accept him? His eyes burned, his gloved hand desperately wiped away the evidence of his weakness.

He was a bastard, a snarl tried to rise on his face but dissolved under the weight of his uncle's words. He wanted to be angry, to pick his sword and swing it until his arms were burning. 

Instead he stepped forward, shakily as his breathing quickened, he bent down to pick up his sword but only stumbled forward. His uncle's hand grabbed him, pulling him against his armoured breastplate. 

Aerion tried to pull away, his strength useless against his older uncle as he writhed desperately. He smashed his gloved fists into the armoured plate, again and again. 

His uncle's grip tightened, Aerions fists stilling as his breaths quickened unsteadily, breathing through his nose desperately as his anger tried to fight against reality.

His anger failed to keep away the cold hard truth.

His shoulders started to shake, gently at first, his form eventually becoming overcome with sobs as his hands clung desperately onto the cold breastplate. His uncle held firm, saying nothing—just letting his nephew cling to him as the last of his defiance crumbled.

—-

Thoughts? Not too sure about this chapter