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Chapter Text

𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 knew she shouldn’t have favorites among her children, but when it came to Aeryrion, she couldn’t help herself. When she first got pregnant, she expected to have only one child. instead, she was blessed with twins.

Whilst Aegon possessed the silver hair and violet eyes that marked him unmistakably as a Targaryen, Aeryrion was different. Aeryrion looked like her, a Hightower, with auburn curls and dark brown eyes. Even after she had her other children—Helaena, Aemond, and Daeron—Aeryrion always held a special place in her heart. He was her beautiful boy.

The library was bathed in the golden glow of the afternoon sun, casting a warm light on the shelves lined with books and scrolls. Aeryrion sat at a large oak table, engulfed in a sea of tomes and parchments. His hands were stained with ink, as they often were since the moment he learned to read and write. The sunlight played upon his features, making his eyes appear almost bronze. His auburn curls caught the light, giving him an ethereal look that starkly contrasted his intense focus.

Alicent approached him quietly, her footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. She watched him for a moment, marveling at the way his brow furrowed in concentration, his quill moving swiftly across the parchment.

"Aeryrion, darling.” She said softly, taking a seat next to him. "What are you up to?"

Aeryrion looked up, his eyes momentarily losing their faraway look. "Mother.” He acknowledged with a nod. "I am working on arithmetics." His voice, though young, carried a tone of authority and confidence that belied his seven years.

"Arithmetics?" Alicent echoed, smiling. "And what exactly are you working on?"

Aeryrion's face lit up with enthusiasm. "It's quite fascinating, really. I am exploring the properties of prime numbers and their applications in cryptographic algorithms. You see, each prime number is like a building block in the complex structure of encryption. By understanding the patterns and relationships between these numbers, one can devise unbreakable codes."

Alicent listened intently, even though much of what he said was beyond her comprehension. She smiled, seeing the passion in his eyes as he continued.

"Furthermore—“ Aeryrion continued. "—I am delving into the concept of algorithmic complexity. It's about finding the most efficient way to solve problems, minimizing time and resources. For instance, if you have a large dataset, a simple algorithm might take years to process it, but a more sophisticated one could do it in mere seconds."

His hands danced over the parchment, illustrating his points with intricate diagrams and equations. Alicent's heart swelled with pride. "You are remarkable, my son. Where do you learn all this?"

Aeryrion shrugged modestly, though there was a hint of pride in his eyes. "Books, mostly, and sometimes I experiment with my own theories. It's all about observing, understanding, and then applying."

Alicent reached out and gently touched his ink-stained hand. "You are so passionate, darling. It's a joy to watch you grow and learn."

Aeryrion's expression softened slightly. "I want to make a difference, Mother. I plan to use this knowledge to improve the realm. With the right calculations, we can optimize resource allocation, reduce waste, increase efficiency. It’s all a matter of applying logic and reason."

Alicent squeezed his hand, her eyes misting with emotion. "I have no doubt that you will, my clever boy. But remember, it is also important to rest. Your mind needs respite as much as it needs challenges."

Aeryrion frowned slightly but nodded. "I understand, Mother. I will try."

Alicent smiled, brushing a curl away from his forehead. "Promise me you will."

"Promise.” Aeryrion replied, though the gleam in his eyes suggested he might still sneak in a few extra hours of study.

As he returned to his books, Alicent watched him, her heart full. Aeryrion was not just a genius; he was her son, and she would do everything in her power to support and protect him. She knew that with his brilliance and determination, Aeryrion would indeed make a mark on the world, one that would be remembered for generations to come.

So when Aeryrion’s prodigious intellect had led him to the Citadel to further his learning. Alicent had reluctantly agreed to send him away, her heart aching with the separation but knowing it was for the best. However, when word reached her that Aeryrion had disappeared on his dragon, Vermithor, panic gripped her heart like a vice.

The parlor room of the Red Keep was filled with tension as Alicent paced back and forth, her auburn hair wild and her face pale. The Archmaester, who had brought the dreadful news, stood before them, his hands clasped and his eyes solemn.

“Archmaester, how could this happen?” Alicent’s voice trembled with a mixture of rage and fear as she faced the elderly man who had come to deliver the devastating news.

The Archmaester, a tall figure with a long chain of office around his neck, bowed his head, his face solemn. “Your Grace, we have searched everywhere. The boy and his dragon are nowhere to be found. We believe he may have left of his own accord.”

“Left of his own accord?” Alicent’s voice rose to a shrill pitch. “He’s a child! A mere boy! How could you let this happen? You were supposed to protect him, to guide him!”

Aemond, standing beside his mother, placed a hand on her shoulder. “Mother, please, calm yourself. We will find Aeryrion. He’s clever and resourceful. He wouldn’t leave without a plan.”

Alicent shrugged off Aemond hand, her eyes wild with desperation. “You don’t understand! He’s only two and ten! Anything could happen to him out there!” She turned back to the Archmaester, her eyes narrowing. “Tell me everything you know. Every detail.”

The Archmaester took a deep breath. “Your Grace, Aeryrion was last seen in the library, as usual. He had been studying maps and ancient texts about dragon lore. He spoke of the Lost City of Valyria, of finding knowledge long forgotten. We believe he may have set off in search of it, seeking to uncover its secrets.”

Viserys, who had been silent until now, stepped forward. “Valyria? That’s madness! The ruins are cursed, filled with dangers no boy, no matter how brilliant, should face alone.”

Alicent’s breath came in short, panicked gasps. She clutched her chest, feeling as if the world was closing in on her. “No... No, this cannot be. Aeryrion is too smart for such recklessness. He knows the dangers. Princess Aerea returned with her flesh seared and her mind shattered!"

The Archmaester's face was ashen. "He is a boy of incredible intellect, Your Grace. Perhaps he believed he could unlock the secrets of the ruins."

"Secrets be damned!" Alicent shrieked, her body trembling. "He is my son!" Her mind raced with images of her son lost in the cursed ruins, suffering a fate worse than death. Her hands shook, and she felt the walls closing in around her.

Helaena and Aemond stood nearby, their young faces etched with worry. Helaena clutched a small doll to her chest, her eyes darting between her parents. Aemond, always more stoic, tried to remain strong, though his lip trembled.

Aegon, however, stood apart from the family group, a scowl on his face. "Good riddance.” He muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Alicent to hear.

Alicent's head snapped towards him. "What did you say?"

Aegon’s eyes flashed defiantly. “I said good riddance. He's always been the favorite. Maybe now we can have some peace.”

The room fell silent, the air thick with tension. Alicent’s hand moved almost on its own, striking Aegon across the face. The sound echoed through the chamber, and Aegon stumbled back, clutching his cheek, his eyes wide with shock and betrayal.

"How dare you speak of your brother that way?" Alicent's voice shook with rage. "He is your blood, your twin. You should be praying for his safe return, not cursing his name."

Aegon touched his cheek, his eyes filling with hurt and anger. "Why should I care? You don't! All you ever care about is Aeryrion. I’m your son too!"

"You are nothing compared to him!" Alicent shouted, her voice trembling with rage. "Aeryrion is everything you are not—brilliant, dedicated, responsible! He is the son any mother would be proud of, unlike you! For you only care for nothing but your own pleasures. Aeryrion has ambitions, dreams that extend beyond himself. He could change the world, and all you do is sulk and resent him for it!"

Aegon's face twisted with hurt and rage. "Because you never gave me a reason to be better! You never believed in me like you do in him!"

Alicent's tears flowed freely now, her voice breaking. "Because you never tried, Aegon. You never showed the potential he did."

"I have tried, Mother. I've tried so hard, so many times, but it's never enough. Maybe now you’ll realize he isn’t perfect. He's arrogant and reckless, and now look where it got him—lost in those cursed lands. Maybe the gods are punishing him for his pride.” Aegon spat.

Viserys stepped forward, his voice firm but gentle. "Enough, both of you. This is not the time for such quarrels. We must focus on finding Aeryrion and bringing him home safely."

Alicent turned to Viserys, her eyes pleading. "He’s just a boy, Viserys. My boy. He cannot face the dangers of Old Valyria alone."

The Archmaester cleared his throat, drawing their attention back to him. "My queen, we have sent ravens to every corner of the realm. We will find him. But you must prepare yourself for the possibility that..."

"Do not say it!" Alicent interrupted, her voice breaking. "Do not dare utter those words." She then sank to the floor, tears streaming down her face. "My boy, my sweet Aeryrion. I should have never let him go. I should have kept him here, safe."

Helaena and Aemond rushed to their mother's side, their young faces pale with fear and confusion. Helaena tried to comfort her, wrapping her small arms around Alicent. "Mother, please don't cry. We'll find him. Father will find him."

Viserys knelt beside his wife, his own eyes filled with worry. "Alicent, we will bring him back. I promise you."

But Alicent was inconsolable. Her breaths came in short, panicked gasps as she clutched at her chest. "I can't lose him, Viserys. I can't. He's just a boy, and that place... it's cursed. What if something happens to him? What if—"

"Mother, you need to breathe.” Aemond said softly, his voice trembling. "Please, breathe."

The Archmaester stepped forward, a look of genuine concern on his face. "Your Grace, please, let us help you. You need to calm down, for your own health."

Alicent's eyes were wide and wild as she looked around the room. "You don't understand.” She whispered hoarsely. "Aeryrion is... He’s different. He's special. I can't... I can't lose him."

Viserys pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. "We will find him, Alicent. I swear on the Iron Throne, we will find him and bring him home."

Alicent clung to him, her body shaking with sobs. All she could think about was her clever, beautiful boy, lost and alone in a cursed land. The fear and guilt were overwhelming, suffocating her. She had allowed him to go to the Citadel, to pursue knowledge, thinking it would keep him safe. Now, the thought of him in that cursed land, alone and in danger, was more than she could bear. She saw Aeryrion's face, his bronze eyes filled with determination, his auburn curls tumbling over his forehead. She remembered the way he would lose himself in his studies, his hands stained with ink, his mind ever reaching for the stars.

She clung to the hope that her son, her brilliant, beautiful boy, would find his way back to her. The memory of his voice, his laughter, and his unwavering determination echoed in her mind. She had to believe that he would return, that he would not fall victim to the same fate as Princess Aerea.

In the days that followed, Alicent could hardly eat or sleep. She haunted the halls of the Red Keep like a ghost, her eyes constantly scanning the horizon for any sight of Vermithor returning with her son, praying for a sign, any sign, that her son was safe. Her heart ached with a pain she had never known, a mother's anguish that felt as though it would tear her apart.

As the years passed, and there was still no sign of Aeryrion. The hope that had once flickered in Alicent's heart had slowly dimmed. One evening, Viserys entered her chambers, his face grave and lined with sorrow. Alicent was standing by the portrait of Aeryrion, her fingers lightly tracing the contours of his auburn curls and dark eyes, captured so vividly in the painting.

"Alicent.” Viserys said softly, his voice weighted with the burden of his words. “We have to face the truth. It has been too long. We must declare him dead."

Alicent's hand froze mid-stroke, her eyes never leaving the portrait. "No.” She whispered, a fierce denial in her voice. "He's out there, Viserys. I can feel it. He wouldn't just leave us."

Viserys stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "He was just a boy, Alicent. He ventured into the most dangerous place known to us. Even Vermithor couldn't protect him from the horrors of Old Valyria."

Alicent turned to face him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I see him every night in my dreams, Viserys. He's calling out to me. How can you ask me to let go of my son?"

Viserys sighed, his own eyes filled with pain. "I don't want to let go, but our people need closure. We need to move forward. The realm needs stability."

Her voice trembled as she spoke. "Then what of my heart? How do I move forward with it missing?"

Viserys pulled her into an embrace, holding her tightly. "We will honor him, Alicent. We will remember him always. But we must accept that he is gone."

The day of the funeral arrived, a somber affair without a body to burn. The great hall was draped in black, and the scent of incense filled the air. Alicent stood beside Viserys, her children by her side. Aegon, now a young man, stood stoically, his face a mask of indifference. Helaena and Aemond, both visibly affected, clung to each other for comfort.

As the ceremony began, Alicent's eyes wandered to the empty pyre, her heart shattering anew. She could still see Aeryrion's smile, hear his voice explaining complex theories with an enthusiasm that was infectious.

"Mother.” Aemond whispered, his voice breaking her reverie. "Will you say something?"

Alicent nodded, stepping forward to address the gathered lords and ladies. Her voice trembled, but she spoke with a strength born of love and loss. "Aeryrion was a light in our lives. He was brilliant, curious, and brave. He ventured where others feared to go, always seeking knowledge. Though he is not here with us physically, his spirit, his essence, will always be a part of us."

She paused, gathering her composure. "We may not have a body to burn, but we have our memories, our love. Aeryrion's legacy will live on in our hearts and in the tales we tell."

Tears flowed freely from her eyes as she stepped back, feeling the weight of her grief press down on her. Helaena reached out, taking her mother's hand and squeezing it gently. "He wouldn't want you to be sad forever, Mother.” She said softly. "He'd want you to remember the good times."

Alicent nodded, grateful for her daughter's words, but the pain was still too raw. As the funeral drew to a close, she felt Viserys' hand on her back, guiding her away from the pyre. The lords and ladies offered their condolences, but their words felt hollow to her ears.

Back in her chambers that night, Alicent sat by the window, staring out at the darkened sky. The portrait of Aeryrion was illuminated by the flickering candlelight, his eyes seeming to follow her every move.

"Where are you, my darling?" She whispered into the night. "Are you safe? Are you happy?"

There was no answer, only the silence of the night and the distant call of a dragon. Alicent closed her eyes, letting the tears fall freely. She knew she had to accept Viserys' words, but in her heart, a mother's hope still burned, faint but unyielding.

In the quiet of her chambers, surrounded by memories and the weight of her loss, Alicent made a silent vow. If there was even the smallest chance that Aeryrion was still out there, she would never stop searching. She would keep his memory alive, not just in portraits and stories, but in her relentless hope and her undying love.

Little did anyone know, that in the farthest eastern reaches of Essos, within the Golden Empire of Yi Ti, a land of breathtaking beauty and opulence, its cities adorned with towering golden pagodas and intricate jade carvings. The air was thick with the scent of exotic spices and blooming lotus flowers, and the streets bustled with merchants and scholars from every corner of the known world. Aeryrion was very much alive.

Aeryrion had grown into a striking young man, his auburn curls now reaching his waist, cascading in waves that framed his handsome, angular face. His dark brown eyes held a spark of intelligence and mischief, a combination that made him both captivating and intimidating. His presence in Yi Ti was as enigmatic as the young man himself, a prodigy far from home, thriving in the heart of this ancient and mysterious empire.

On this particular day, Aeryrion found himself in the palace courtyard, a splendid garden filled with cherry blossom trees, tranquil koi ponds, and ornate stone sculptures. The courtyard was a serene oasis, a stark contrast to the tension boiling between him and Prince Jianyu, the emperor's eldest son. Jianyu was handsome, with dark hair that fell just past his shoulders and piercing jade green eyes that seemed to see through any pretense.

They stood in the middle of the courtyard, glaring at each other, a plate of sweetmeats with pearls and jade powder resting temptingly between them. The last of the delicacies, both were too impatient to wait for the kitchen staff to prepare more.

"You had the last one yesterday.” Aeryrion argued, his tone a mix of haughtiness and amusement.

Jianyu crossed his arms, his lips curling into a sly smile. "So? You had the first three today. Seems only fair I get the last."

Aeryrion's eyes sparkled with challenge. "Fair? Where's the fun in fair? Besides, you know I can outwit you any day."

Jianyu leaned in, his voice dropping to a flirtatious whisper. "Is that a challenge, my dearest?"

Aeryrion smirked, the corner of his mouth lifting in a way that made Jianyu's heart skip a beat. "Always."

"Very well." Jianyu said, picking up the sweetmeat and holding it just out of Aeryrion's reach. "Let's see if you can take it from me."

Aeryrion's eyes narrowed, but his smile widened. "With pleasure."

He lunged, but Jianyu was quick, spinning away with a laugh. The two chased each other around the courtyard, their laughter echoing through the garden. Aeryrion's movements were graceful, almost feline, as he darted around the trees and over the stone bridges. Jianyu was equally agile, his robes flowing behind him like the tail of a comet.

As they fought, the staff, peeking from behind the columns, couldn't help but giggle at the sight of their prince and his foreign scholar.

Finally, Aeryrion cornered Jianyu by the koi pond, their chests heaving from exertion. Jianyu held the sweetmeat aloft, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. "Yield, Aeryrion, or you'll end up in the pond."

Aeryrion chuckled, his eyes never leaving Jianyu's. "I'd rather swim than yield."

With a swift, unexpected move, Aeryrion knocked the sweetmeat from Jianyu's hand, catching it deftly before it hit the ground. He popped it into his mouth, savoring the sweet, delicate flavors with a satisfied grin.

Jianyu stared at him, a mix of admiration and frustration on his face. "I hate you..” He said, but there was no malice in his tone.

Aeryrion shrugged, his expression smug. "Oh please we all know you love me."

"You're insufferable, Aeryrion." Jianyu declared, his tone a mix of exasperation and amusement. He crossed his arms over his chest, his silk robes rustling with the movement. "You think just because you've read every book in the palace library, you're always right."

Aeryrion smirked. "It's not about thinking, Jianyu. I am always right. It's simple logic, something you seem to struggle with."

Jianyu rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. "And yet, here you are, wasting your time arguing with someone you deem inferior. What does that say about you?"

Aeryrion stepped closer, his eyes locking with Jianyu's. "It says that even geniuses need entertainment. I must admit, watching you struggle to keep up is quite amusing."

"Tell me, Aeryrion, do you ever tire of arguing with me?" Jianyu smirked at him.
Aeryrion's lips twitched into a reluctant smile. "Not yet."

They circled each other like dancers, their banter a familiar, comfortable routine. Then Jianyu’s expression turned serious. "Aeryrion, I’ve been wondering, do you ever think of returning to Westeros? You've traveled the entire world, known and unknown. Surely you must feel some pull to go back."

Aeryrion's smile faded, and he looked away, his gaze distant. "Westeros... it’s a place of ghosts and memories. My family thinks I'm dead. My parents, my siblings... they’ve likely moved on."

Jianyu stepped closer, his voice softening. "What about you? Have you moved on?"
Aeryrion sighed, running a hand through his long curls. "I left for a reason, Jianyu. I needed to escape the expectations, the politics, the constant scrutiny. Anywhere else, I can be myself. I can explore, learn, and grow without the weight of my family's legacy."

"You can't run forever." Jianyu said gently. "Someday, you will have to face your past."

Aeryrion's eyes met Jianyu’s, a mixture of defiance and vulnerability. "Why should I? What’s waiting for me there except pain and obligation?"

Jianyu placed a hand on Aeryrion's shoulder. "Maybe so, but there is also love, and family. Your mother, I bet she must miss you terribly."

Aeryrion's expression softened, the mention of his mother striking a chord. "I think of her often.” He admitted. "I see her in my dreams, hear her voice in my mind. Though going back... It would mean facing everything I left behind. Everything I ran from."

Jianyu's grip tightened, his jade eyes sincere. "You are stronger than you know, and ometimes, facing our past is the only way to truly move forward."

Aeryrion's gaze dropped to the mosaic beneath their feet, the dragons and phoenixes seeming to swirl and dance in the sunlight. "Westeros is a land of shadows for me. Though perhaps you are right, it is time to stop running."

Jianyu smiled, a warm, encouraging smile. "Whatever you decide, know that you have a place here. You are not alone."

Aeryrion looked up, meeting Jianyu's eyes with a newfound resolve. "Thank you, Jianyu. Your friendship means more to me than words can express."

Jianyu’s smile widened. "As yours to me, Aeryrion. Now, shall we stop this melancholic musings and return to our debate? I believe you were about to concede that I am, indeed, always right."

Aeryrion laughed, the sound clear and bright in the courtyard. "In your dreams. Last I checked you were lamenting that I’m always right."

“No, I was not!”

“Yes, you were!”

Chapter Text

𝐉𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐔 𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐒 back on the plush silk pillows of his bed, eyes fixed on Aeryrion as he dressed. The early morning light filtered through the intricately woven curtains, casting a soft glow that accentuated the prince's ethereal beauty.

Aeryrion's auburn curls, which cascaded down to his waist, shimmered with a fiery brilliance, and his dark brown eyes, which could appear bronze or gold depending on the lighting, held an intensity that seemed almost otherworldly. His lean, muscular frame was adorned with love bites and claw marks from their passionate night together, a testament to their ardent affection.

"You know, Aeryrion…" Jianyu began, his voice low and filled with a mixture of longing and regret. "I much prefer you without any clothes at all."

Aeryrion turned, a smirk playing on his lips as he fastened the clasps of his silk robes. "Is that so, my prince? Then perhaps you should have thought of a way to keep me here, forever unclothed and yours."

Jianyu's heart ached at the words, knowing all too well the futility of such a desire. "You know I cannot keep a dragon caged, no matter how much I might wish to. Though must you really go?" Jianyu's voice was a soft murmur, barely louder than a whisper, laden with a melancholy he couldn't quite mask.

"You know I must.” He replied, his tone as smooth and cold as polished obsidian. "The dream was clear. If I do not return to Westeros, devastation will follow."

Jianyu's heart clenched at the words. He had heard Aeryrion speak of his prophetic dreams before, but this one had an urgency that frightened him.

"It’s been a decade." Jianyu argued, sitting up and letting the silk sheets pool around his waist. "They believe you dead. You ran away for a reason, Aeryrion. You hated it there, and you will hate it even more now."

Aeryrion's lips curled into a bitter smile. "My suffering is a small price to pay for preventing catastrophe. I have responsibilities, Jianyu."

"What of us?" The words slipped out before Jianyu could stop them, raw and vulnerable. He knew Aeryrion did not see him as more than a companion, a bedmate, but his heart ached nonetheless.

Aeryrion's expression softened, just a fraction. "You have given me much, Jianyu. Though we both know my path leads me back to Westeros. It always has." Jianyu clenched his fists, the silk sheets crumpling beneath his grip. "I could give you an army. The backing of Yi Ti. You would not have to face it alone."

Aeryrion's laugh was a short, mirthless sound. "An army of Yi Ti in Westeros? They would never accept it. They would see it as an invasion, not a liberation."

"Then take me with you." Jianyu pleaded, his voice breaking. "Let me stand by your side."

Aeryrion shook his head, the auburn curls shimmering like dragonfire. "No, Jianyu. Your place is here. Yi Ti needs you as much as Westeros needs me." The finality in Aeryrion's voice was like a dagger to Jianyu's heart.

He swallowed hard, struggling to keep his composure. "Will you ever return?"

Aeryrion's gaze became distant, as if he were already halfway across the world. "Perhaps, but I cannot promise it."

Jianyu took a deep breath, his chest tight with unspoken emotions. "Then know this, Aeryrion. If ever you need me, if ever you find yourself in dire straits, call for me. I will come. I will bring the might of my empire to your aid."

Aeryrion stepped closer, his hand reaching out to cup Jianyu's cheek. The touch was surprisingly tender, a rare show of affection. "You have a good heart, Jianyu. I will remember your offer."

Jianyu closed his eyes, leaning into the touch. For a moment, he allowed himself to believe that Aeryrion cared for him, that he was more than just a fleeting lover. Yet he knew better.

As Aeryrion turned away and continued dressing, Jianyu watched in silence, memorizing every detail. The way the sunlight caught in Aeryrion's curls, the way the Yi Ti robes draped over his lithe form. He would hold onto these memories, cherish them in the lonely nights to come.

"When do you leave?" Jianyu whispered.

"In a fortnight. Though for now I’m only going to the palace library today. There are preparations to be made, plans to be studied." Aeryrion answered.

Jianyu forced a smile, though it did not reach his eyes. "Then let us make the most of the time we have left."

Aeryrion’s gaze met Jianyu’s in the mirror, a fleeting moment of shared understanding passing between them.

"Indeed. We shall."

With that, Aeryrion left, the door closing behind him with a soft click. Jianyu remained on the bed, his heart aching with the loss of a man who could never truly be his.

The room felt emptier, colder, as if the warmth of Aeryrion's presence had been snuffed out like a candle. Jianyu lay back down, staring at the ceiling, memories of their nights together playing in his mind like a bittersweet symphony. He knew Aeryrion was right; love was a dangerous thing. But even knowing that, he couldn't help but love him still, with all the fervor and hopelessness of a man who had given his heart to a star that would never fall from the sky.

"A fortnight.” He whispered to himself. "Only a fortnight more."

Eventually Jianyu managed to untangle himself from the sheets to make his way to the library to fetch Aeyrion for lunch.

The grand halls of the palace library were silent, the air thick with the scent of ancient parchment and ink. Jianyu strode purposefully through the aisles, his robes whispering against the marble floor. He expected to find Aeryrion bent over an old tome, lost in the labyrinth of his own thoughts. Instead, he was met with an eerie stillness.

"Aeryrion?" Jianyu called out, his voice echoing through the cavernous space.

There was no answer. His heart quickened, a sense of foreboding creeping in. He made his way to the table where Aeryrion always sat, the one by the window overlooking the gardens. His breath caught when he saw the lone parchment lying there, Aeryrion’s name scrawled in elegant script. With trembling hands, Jianyu picked up the letter and began to read.

"My dearest jade,

   Forgive me for the deception. As you read this, I am already in the skies, mounted on Vermithor flying back to Westeros. I could not bear to say goodbye in person. The pain would have been too great, and the resolve I need for my journey would have faltered.

   I want you to know that this decision was not made lightly. The dream that haunts me is a vision of fire and blood, a devastation that only I can prevent. If circumstances were different, I would choose to remain by your side, where I have found a semblance of peace and happiness.

   You have given me a sanctuary, a place where I could be free. For that, I will be eternally grateful. But some paths we must walk alone, no matter how much we wish it otherwise.

—Yours always, Aerys"

Jianyu's hands shook as he finished reading, the letter crumpling slightly in his grip. His vision blurred with unshed tears, and a cry of anguish tore from his throat.

"Damn you, Aeryrion!" Heroared, his voice breaking with raw emotion. "Damn your sense of duty! Damn you for leaving me! Damn you for making me love you!" He swept his arm across the table, sending books and scrolls crashing to the floor.

"How could you do this? How could you leave without a word, without a proper goodbye?" He screamed, his voice echoing in the empty library. "You take my heart with you, and you don’t even have the decency to face me? To look me in the eyes and tell me you’re leaving? You knew how much I needed you, and yet you left!”

Jianyu’s rage consumed him. He upended chairs, tore down tapestries, and flung priceless manuscripts across the room. Each act of destruction was a futile attempt to expel the torment within him.

"You coward! You couldn’t even face me. You left me with nothing but a letter!" His breath came in ragged gasps as he stood amidst the wreckage, his chest heaving with sorrow and fury.

"You always were a master of deception, Aeryrion. Always so clever, so cunning. But this...? This is cruelty beyond measure." As Jianyu sank to his knees, clutching the tattered letter to his chest.

“Was it so easy for you to leave?” Jianyu’s voice grew softer, tinged with a desperate sadness. “Did you feel nothing when you wrote these words? Or was it all just another one of your calculated moves?”

"I would have given you everything. I would have fought for you, stood by you. Yet you didn’t even give me the chance." He whispered brokenly.

Jianyu’s sobs echoed through the library, a symphony of heartbreak. He clutched the letter to his chest, the words blurring through his tears. "I hate you.” He choked out. "I hate you for leaving me, but I hate myself more for still loving you." The library, once a sanctuary of knowledge and tranquility, now lay in ruins, mirroring the shattered state of Jianyu’s heart.

He remained on the floor, curled around the letter, as the weight of Aeryrion’s departure settled over him like a suffocating shroud.

The hours passed, Jianyu’s rage subsided, leaving only a hollow ache in its wake. He knew that Aeryrion was gone, soaring high above the clouds on the back of Vermithor, leaving behind a trail of broken promises and unfulfilled dreams. All Jianyu could do was mourn the loss of the one who had taken his heart and flown away.

As Jianyu laments his heartbreak the stars glittered like shards of ice in the velvet sky as Aeryrion slipped into the steaming waters of the natural hot spring. His muscles, taut from hours of riding on dragonback, began to unwind in the soothing heat. The night was silent save for the distant sounds of Vermithor feasting on a herd of animals, the great dragon’s presence a comforting reassurance.

He let out a long sigh, leaning his head back to rest against the smooth rocks at the edge of the spring. The journey to Westeros would take days, and this brief respite was a welcome relief. Aeryrion wasn’t worried about anyone finding him, his mastery of the arcane arts ensured his safety and secrecy. He had woven wards around the area, rendering him and Vermithor invisible to prying eyes.

“Nyke gaomagon daor jaelagon naejot vestros, yn se drēje gūrēñagon issa.” Aeryrion murmured in High Valyrian, his voice carrying a note of lamentation.“I do not wish to return to Westeros, but the dream haunts me.”

He remembered the dream vividly—visions of fire and blood, dragons falling from the sky, House Targaryen reduced to ashes. The images had seared themselves into his mind, compelling him to undertake this journey that he had avoided for so long.

“Skoriot iā gūrogon, iā rūs, iā ōñā syt nykeā drēje.” He continued, his eyes reflecting the starlight. “Fire and blood, ruin and death, all because of a dream.”

Vermithor, having gorged himself, lumbered over and settled beside the hot spring, his massive form radiating heat. The dragon’s bronze eyes, so much like Aeryrion’s own in their shifting hues, watched his rider with an almost knowing expression.

Aeryrion reached out, his fingers brushing the dragon’s scaled muzzle. “Syt ao se nykeā gūrēñagon, Vermithor." He said softly. “For you and me both, Vermithor.”

The dragon huffed, a cloud of steam rising from his nostrils, and laid his head on the ground, his eyes half-closing in contentment. Aeryrion leaned back, his thoughts drifting to the journey ahead. He had traversed the known and unknown world, seen wonders and horrors alike, but now he was returning to the place he had once called home.

“Vestros, se quba bona nyke otāpagon.” He muttered, his tone bitter. “Westeros, the cage that once held me.”

His mind wandered back to the dream. He saw dragons falling, their roars of agony echoing through the skies. He saw the Red Keep in flames, its towers crumbling. He saw his family, his house, reduced to nothing but stories and ashes.

“Nyke gīmigon skoros issa gaomagon, yn nyke daor jaelagon.” Aeryrion whispered, his voice almost breaking. “I know what I must do, but I do not wish it.”

He sighed deeply, the steam from the hot spring curling around him like a veil. The memories of his travels flickered in his mind—exotic lands, ancient ruins, and the faces of those he had met and left behind.

“Drējī, iā ōños, iā se gaomagon syt iā drōma.” He said, his voice firming with resolve. “Dreams, visions, and the duty of a dragon.”

Vermithor rumbled softly, a sound that resonated deep within Aeryrion’s chest. The dragon understood, in his own way, the weight of destiny that bore down on his rider. Aeryrion took one last look at the stars, as if seeking guidance or solace from their distant light.

”Damn you gods…”

As the night continued Aeryrion drifted into a deep sleep beneath the protective wing of Vermithor, the dragon's steady heartbeat a comforting lullaby. The warmth radiating from the massive creature cocooned him, blocking out the chill of the night air. In his slumber, Aeryrion’s mind wandered back through the years, replaying the journey that had shaped him into the man he was today.

His dreams took him first to the dark, ominous ruins of Old Valyria, the place he had fled to as a mere boy. He could still remember the overwhelming sense of awe and fear as he had navigated the crumbling remnants of his ancestors' empire. The once great city, now a desolate wasteland, had whispered secrets to him, secrets that only someone of Targaryen blood could understand.

In his dream, he walked through the haunting ruins, the ancient stone structures looming like specters in the mist. The air was thick with the scent of sulfur and decay, and the ground beneath his feet felt alive, pulsing with the remnants of long forgotten magic.

"You fled here, seeking knowledge and power.” A voice echoed in his mind, a voice that was both his own and not his own. "Here you found it."

Aeryrion saw himself as a young boy, his auburn curls wild and untamed, his eyes wide with determination. He had been fearless, driven by a burning desire to understand the mysteries of his heritage. The ruins had tested him, pushing him to his limits, but he had emerged stronger, more knowledgeable, and infinitely more dangerous.

"Valyria's secrets are not for the faint of heart.” He whispered to his younger self. "You learned that well."

He remembered the ancient tomes he had discovered, filled with arcane knowledge that had been lost to the world. The spells and incantations, the rituals and rites, had become second nature to him. He had mastered the elements, bending fire and shadow to his will, becoming a true sorcerer of Old Valyria.

His dream shifted, taking him to a grand, crumbling library deep within the heart of the ruins. The shelves that had once held the greatest collection of knowledge in the world now stood empty, their contents reduced to dust. 

Aeyrion watched as the boy he once was reached out, his fingers trembling as they brushed the spine of a particularly ancient volume. The book seemed to pulse with a life of its own, as if eager to share its secrets. As the boy opened the book, a cacophony of voices erupted around him, the souls of the departed Valyrians screaming in agony. Their cries were a symphony of despair and anger, echoing through the ruined halls.

“Why did you come here?” One voice wailed, filled with sorrow.

“You seek power, but it will destroy you.” Another hissed, dripping with venom.

The boy recoiled, his eyes wide with terror. Yet, despite the spectral warnings, he did not close the book. Instead, he began to read, his lips moving silently as he absorbed the ancient spells and incantations.

“The cost of knowledge.” Aeryrion whispered, watching the scene unfold.

The dream shifted, and Aeryrion found himself in a vast chamber, its walls lined with dragon skulls and enchanted artifacts. His younger self was there, older now, his face hardened by the trials he had endured. He was surrounded by arcane symbols, his hands weaving intricate patterns in the air as he chanted in High Valyrian.

“Dracarys.” The boy intoned, his voice steady and commanding.

Flames burst forth, swirling around him in a controlled inferno. The power coursed through him, a heady rush that both exhilarated and terrified. The spirits of Old Valyria continued their lament, their voices a constant reminder of the price of such power.

“You will pay for your hubris.” One spirit cried, its form flickering like a dying flame.

“You cannot control what you do not fully understand.” Another warned, its voice echoing with ancient wisdom.

The boy ignored them, his focus unbroken. Aeryrion watched with a mixture of pride and sorrow. He knew the path he had chosen, the sacrifices made and the burdens borne.

The dream shifted once more. He saw the boy poring over ancient scrolls, his eyes wide with a mixture of wonder and terror. He saw him practicing the spells, the arcane rituals that had long been forgotten, his small hands tracing intricate patterns in the air.

"Stop it." Aeryrion whispered, his voice filled with anguish. "Don’t do it. You don’t know what you’re sacrificing."

Yet the boy could not hear him. The boy continued, driven by a desperate need to prove himself, to conquer the fear that had driven him to this place. The spells became darker, the rituals more dangerous, and the voices of the departed grew louder, more insistent.

“You are one of us, and yet you are not.” A voice whispered, its tone mournful.

“You carry our legacy, but you are doomed to repeat our mistakes.” Another lamented.

"You are the monster.” They howled. "You are the harbinger of doom once more."

The dream shifted again, and Aeryrion found himself standing before a shattered mirror. The boy’s reflection stared back at him, eyes filled with sorrow and regret. The voices whispered around him, their words a haunting chorus of condemnation.

“Why did you do it?” The boy asked, his voice barely a whisper. “Why did you choose this path?”

Aeryrion reached out, his fingers brushing against the cold glass. “I did it for knowledge.” He replied, his voice heavy with sorrow. “I did it because I thought it was the only way.”

The boy’s reflection shimmered, his eyes searching Aeryrion’s face. “Was it worth it?” He asked, his voice breaking. “TELL ME! Was it worth the price?”

Aeryrion’s heart clenched, the weight of his choices pressing down on him. “I don’t know.” He admitted, his voice choked with emotion. “I don’t know…”

The dreamscape shifted once more, and Aeryrion found himself standing at the edge of a precipice, overlooking a sea of fire. The screams of the damned echoed in his ears, a symphony of suffering that seemed to go on forever.

"This is your destiny, fire and blood.” The voices chanted. "The world will perish in fire and blood!”

Aeryrion awoke with a start, his heart pounding in his chest. The night was still and silent, the only sound the steady breathing of Vermithor beside him. The dream had been a haunting reminder of the choices he had made, the path he had walked. He had sought knowledge, but at what cost?

Chapter Text

𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐃 the gods under his breath as he walked through the brothel house of Volantis. He was not here for pleasure. he was here for business. The stench of sweat and cheap perfume clung to the air, mingling with the low hum of murmured conversations and risqué laughter. He made his way through the throng of scantily clad women and their patrons.

Eventually he reached the woman in charge, her face lined with years of experience and hardened by the life she led. With a swift motion, he lowered his hood.

"Take me to my aunt.” He commanded, his voice smooth and commanding, leaving no room for argument.

The woman nodded, leading him up a narrow, creaking staircase. As they ascended, the sounds of the brothel faded, replaced by the muffled whispers of more intimate encounters. Finally, they reached a door adorned with intricate carvings. The woman knocked gently and opened it, revealing a lavish room where his aunt, Princess Saera Targaryen, lounged like a queen.

Three men, their faces bearing the marked scars of slavery, attended to her every need, massaging her feet, pouring wine, and fanning her with large, ornate fans. Saera beamed when she saw him, her face lighting up with genuine pleasure. She dismissed the men with a wave of her hand. "Leave us." She said, her voice a melodic command that brooked no disobedience.

"Aeryrion, it's been too long.” She said, rising to embrace him. "What brings you to my humble abode?"

"Aunt Saera." Aeryrion replied, returning her embrace briefly before stepping back. "I’m returning to Westeros. I need my things shipped to King's Landing and transferred to the vault."

Saera arched an eyebrow, her lips curling into a sly smile. "That will be a hefty price, dear nephew, to have everything shipped and delivered discreetly."

Aeryrion met her gaze, unflinching. "I anticipated as much." He reached into his bag and produced a box, opening it to reveal a set of Valyrian gold jewelry, each piece more exquisite than the last.

Saera's eyes widened with appreciation. "You never cease to amaze me, Aeryrion. These are truly magnificent."

"Consider it a down payment.” Aeryrion said, his tone nonchalant. "You will receive the rest upon confirmation of delivery."

Saera chuckled, a sound both amused and impressed. "Ever the shrewd businessman. Very well. I will arrange for your items to be shipped and delivered to the vault."

Aeryrion's mind drifted back to the countless treasures and artifacts he had collected during his travels through the known and unknown world. Each item held immense value, both monetary and sentimental. He had arranged for them to be sent to Saera until further notice, knowing she would keep them safe but always at a cost. The hefty price he paid was worth it, considering the vault—a seemingly normal noble house in King's Landing—was secretly remodeled to accommodate and protect his treasures.

Aeryrion nodded, satisfied. "I trust you will handle it with the utmost discretion."

"Of course." Saera replied. "But tell me, why the sudden return to Westeros? I thought you had forsaken the land of our house for your travels."

Aeryrion's eyes darkened, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them. "I have matters that require my... personal attention."

Saera looked up, curiosity evident in her gaze. "Why now, Aeryrion? You've all but forsaken Westeros. What has changed?"

"I had a dream." He whispered.

Saera hummed softly, understanding the weight of his words. Their bloodline was known for its prophetic dreams, and she knew better than to dismiss them lightly. "Aerys, tell me, what did you see in this dream of yours?"

"I saw fire and blood, Westeros is on the brink of chaos, and I intend to be there when it unfolds."

Saera nodded slowly, absorbing his words. "Very well. I will see to it that your belongings are shipped discreetly. Don’t forget, nothing in this world comes without a price."

"Of course. You will be compensated generously, as always." Aeryrion smiled.

As he turned to leave, Saera called out. "Oh and more thing. Be careful whom you trust. Even family can be treacherous."

He paused at the doorway, glancing back at her. "You should know by now I trust no one—not even myself."

Aeryrion left the brothel, pulling up his hood as he stepped into the bustling streets of Volantis. The air was thick with the scent of spices and sweat, the sounds of traders and sailors creating a cacophony that did little to drown out the voices that had begun to plague him. The closer Aeryrion got to Westeros, the louder the voices of the Valyrian damned became.

He moved swiftly through the market, his eyes darting around, catching fleeting glimpses of ghostly figures in the periphery of his vision. The spectral forms of departed Valyrians seemed to follow him, their expressions twisted with a mixture of sorrow and anger. To anyone else, the streets were filled with the living, but to Aeryrion, it was as if the dead walked among them, their ethereal presence a constant reminder of the price he had paid for his knowledge.

Aeryrion quickened his pace, trying to shake the feeling of eyes boring into his soul. He could practically feel the icy touch of the departed souls, their whispers growing louder, more insistent.

"You are the Doom.” One voice hissed, a chilling echo that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. "Your debt is to be paid in fire and blood."

Another specter, a woman with eyes like molten gold, appeared briefly before him, her face contorted in agony. "You cannot escape your fate, Aeryrion Targaryen. The past will reclaim you."

He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to ignore them, but the voices grew more fervent.

"The knowledge you claimed comes with a price.” The shadowy figure murmured, its form dissolving into the crowd. "And you have taken more than you can repay."

"Fire and blood.” They chanted, their voices overlapping in a haunting symphony. "Fire and blood."

Aeryrion stumbled, his vision blurring as he caught sight of a young girl with silver hair and eyes that glowed like embers. She pointed a finger at him, her voice like the rustling of dead leaves. "You will bring the Doom upon them all."

He shook his head violently, trying to clear his thoughts. "Leave me.” He muttered, his voice barely audible over the din of the market. "I have paid my price."

But the voices only grew louder, more insistent. "Your debt is eternal. The blood of Valyria stains your hands."

Finally, he spotted a tavern, its wooden sign swaying gently in the breeze. He pushed through the door, the warm, smoky air inside a stark contrast to the oppressive atmosphere outside. The tavern was filled with patrons, their laughter and chatter a welcome distraction from the haunting visions.

He made his way to a corner table, collapsing onto the bench and burying his face in his hands. The voices had quieted, but he could still feel their presence, a lingering chill that refused to dissipate.

A serving girl approached, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of him. "What can I get you, m'lord?"

"A flagon of your strongest wine." He replied, his voice strained. "Make sure to keep it coming."

She nodded and hurried away, leaving Aeryrion to his thoughts. He could still see the faces of the damned, their eyes boring into him with a mixture of accusation and pity. They were right, of course. He had delved too deeply into the forbidden knowledge of Valyria, and now he was paying the price.

The serving girl returned with a flagon of deep red wine, placing it before him with a sympathetic smile. "Is there anything else you need, m'lord?"

He shook his head, pouring himself a generous measure of the wine and taking a long, desperate drink. The alcohol burned his throat, but it did little to numb the gnawing sense of dread that had taken root in his heart.

As he sat there, the tavern's noise a comforting backdrop, he couldn't shake the feeling that the specters were watching him, waiting for the moment when he would finally succumb to the damnation that he had wrought upon himself. The price of his knowledge was steep, and he knew that eventually, it would demand its due.

For now, he could only drink and plan his next move, hoping that he might find a way to outmaneuver the fate that seemed so determined to claim him. Though deep down, he knew that the voices were right. Fire and blood were his destiny, and there was no escaping the shadows of his past.

As Aeryrion drank himself into oblivion, the wine a temporary balm for the unending torment of the Valyrian voices. He was a glutton for knowledge, and now he was paying the price. Each gulp of the potent wine served to dull his senses, the haunting specters fading into the background of his intoxicated mind.

As he slumped over the table, a woman approached him. For a moment, he thought she was another ghost of Valyria, but as she drew closer, he saw the unmistakable traits of Lyseni descent—the pale, flawless skin, the bright, almost unnatural eyes, and the silver-gold hair.

"Mind if I join you?" She purred, her voice like silk.

Aeryrion blinked, his vision swimming. "Suit yourself.” He slurred, gesturing to the empty seat beside him.

She slid into the chair with feline grace, her hand immediately finding its way to his thigh. "You look like a man who could use some company.” She said, her fingers tracing lazy circles on his leg.

His lips curled into a lazy, drunken smile. "Company, is it? Or are you just another apparition come to torment me?" His words were slurred, but there was a predatory glint in his eyes.

"I'm very real.” She whispered, leaning closer, her breath warm against his ear. "And I can make you forget all your troubles."

Aeryrion chuckled darkly, his hand moving to grip her waist, pulling her flush against him. "Is that so? And what makes you think you can handle a man like me?"

Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Try me."

He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke, his voice a low, seductive growl. "You’ll regret offering yourself to me. I’m not gentle. I don’t make love—I take what I want. I’ll use you until you’re begging for mercy, until you’re nothing but a quivering, spent mess."

Her breath hitched, a mixture of excitement and fear in her eyes. "I’m not afraid.” She whispered.

"Good.” He replied, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "Because tonight, you’re mine. Every inch of you."

He stood abruptly, pulling her to her feet. They stumbled out of the tavern, Aeryrion’s grip on her wrist firm and unyielding. The walk to the inn was a blur of heated touches and whispered promises of what was to come.

Once inside his room, he wasted no time. He shoved her against the wall, his lips crashing down on hers in a bruising kiss. "Strip.” Ye commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

She obeyed, her hands trembling slightly as she removed her clothes. He watched her, his eyes dark with desire and something far more sinister. "On the bed.” He ordered once she was bare.

She complied, lying back on the bed, her eyes never leaving his. He undressed slowly, deliberately, allowing her to see the hunger in his gaze. He climbed onto the bed, his hands rough as they trailed over her body.

"You’re just a whore, aren’t you?" He murmured against her skin, his fingers digging into her flesh. "A common slut, here to be used."

"Yes.” She gasped, arching into his touch.

"Good.” He growled, his mouth descending on her breast, sucking and biting hard enough to leave marks. "Because that’s all you are to me. A means to an end."

He took her then, with a ferocity that bordered on cruelty. His movements were rough, relentless, driving into her with a single-minded determination. She cried out, a mixture of pleasure and pain, but he paid no mind. He was lost in his own need, using her body to drown out the voices that haunted him.

Hours passed in a blur of tangled limbs and breathless cries. He pushed her to her limits, over and over, until she was a trembling, incoherent mess beneath him.

As the first light of dawn began to filter through the window, Aeryrion knew that his reprieve was over. The voices would return, louder and more insistent, demanding their due. 

Aeryrion left the inn without a word, leaving only a bag of gold on the nightstand as payment for the woman's services. The early morning light cast long shadows across the cobbled streets of Volantis as he made his way to the city's outskirts. His mind was a maelstrom of thoughts, haunted by the specters of Valyria and the weight of his own ambitions.

The path to the cave was treacherous, winding through dense forests and rocky terrain. But Aeryrion moved with purpose, every step bringing him closer to his sanctuary. The mouth of the cave loomed ahead, a dark void against the rising sun. He entered without hesitation, the familiar smell of damp earth and dragon filling his senses.

"Vermithor.” He called softly, his voice echoing in the cavernous space.

A low rumble answered him, and from the shadows emerged the massive form of his dragon. Vermithor, the Bronze Fury, his scales gleaming like molten metal in the dim light. His eyes, like pools of liquid gold, locked onto Aeryrion with an almost sentient understanding.

"Rytsas, jorrāelagon hāedar.” Aeryrion greeted, his voice reverent. “Hello, beloved beast.”

Aeryrion took a deep breath, steeling himself for the journey ahead. He mounted the dragon with practiced ease, his fingers gripping the thick, ridged scales.

"Drēje īlōn naejot Westeros.”

“Take us to Westeros.”

With a powerful beat of his wings, Vermithor launched into the sky, the cave's entrance shrinking rapidly below them. The wind whipped around them, a fierce and exhilarating force. Aeryrion felt a rush of adrenaline, his earlier fears and doubts momentarily forgotten in the thrill of flight.

Vermithor's powerful wings cut through the air, each beat propelling them closer to their destination. Aeryrion's mind raced with thoughts of what awaited him in King's Landing—the vault, the inevitable conflict, his family. But for now, he allowed himself to revel in the sensation of freedom, the sky stretching infinitely before them.

Chapter Text

𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐒𝐀𝐓 by the fireplace of her chambers, the warmth of the flames doing little to thaw the icy ache within her heart. Her eyes were fixed on the portrait that adorned the mantle above the hearth.

It was a portrait of Aeryerion. He was captured in the bloom of youth, only nine years old, with auburn curls cascading down to frame his cherubic face. His dark eyes, so much like her own, sparkled with a thousand unspoken dreams and an insatiable curiosity. The artist had captured the innocence of his age, yet there was an undeniable depth in those eyes—a glimpse of the brilliant mind that lay within.

In the portrait, Aeryerion stood in a field of wildflowers, their vibrant colors muted by the artist's brush yet still hinting at the liveliness of spring. He wore a simple tunic, the burgundy fabric contrasting with the golden embroidery at the edges, a nod to his noble heritage. His hands were clasped in front of him, fingers intertwined as if he were already lost in thought, pondering some intricate puzzle of the universe. The background was a blur of greens and browns, suggesting a garden but not detracting from the focal point—his radiant, youthful presence.

Aeryerion's promise had been evident to all who met him. A prodigy, they called him, the brightest mind the realm had seen in centuries. His tutors marveled at his ability to grasp complex theories with ease, while the maesters spoke in hushed tones of his potential to become the youngest archmaester the realm had ever known. His brilliance was a beacon, illuminating the path to a future where he would undoubtedly change the realm with his insights and innovations. Those who encountered him spoke of his intellect with reverence, as if in the presence of something divine.

Yet, it was his insatiable hunger for knowledge that truly set him apart. Aeryerion's thirst for learning was like that of a starved dragon, fierce and unyielding. He devoured books and scrolls as if they were sustenance, each piece of information another morsel to satisfy his unquenchable appetite. His curiosity knew no bounds, driving him to explore the farthest reaches of knowledge. He would spend hours in the library, poring over ancient texts, his eyes alight with the fire of discovery. No ocean of knowledge could ever sate him, for his desire was as boundless as the skies.

Alicent's heart ached as she remembered the day he left for the Citadel, a decade ago, his eyes sparkling with excitement and ambition. She had embraced him tightly, whispering words of encouragement and love, never imagining that it would be their final farewell. His departure had been filled with promise, the beginning of a journey that was to lead him to greatness.

Yet fate was a cruel mistress and had other plans.

The news of his disappearance had shattered her world. Alicent had always known that Aeryerion's quest for knowledge was perilous, but she never expected it to lead him to the cursed lands of Old Valyria. His desire for understanding had driven him into the heart of danger, a place where even the bravest feared to tread. It was there, amidst the ruins of a once great civilization, that he met his end. The details were scarce, shrouded in mystery and legend, but the result was the same—her brilliant and beautiful boy was gone.

The memory of that day was etched into her soul. The pyre had been constructed with the finest wood, fragrant oils, and herbs to honor the prodigious mind that Aeryerion had been. The golden flames of Sunfyre had licked the wood, dancing in a macabre dance, consuming everything in their path. The smoke had risen into the sky, a dark plume against the setting sun, carrying her son's spirit to the heavens—or so she hoped.

Now, as Alicent sat by the fireplace, the crackling of the flames a distant echo of the pyre, she clung to the portrait for solace. Alicent's fingers traced the outline of the portrait frame, her touch gentle as if she feared to disturb the memory. She could almost hear his laughter, the sound of his voice asking endless questions, his excitement over every new discovery. Yet these were ghosts of the past, haunting her in the stillness of her chambers.

She closed her eyes, allowing herself to be engulfed by the sorrow that never truly left her. Aeryerion's brilliance had been a beacon, guiding her through the darkest times. Without him, the world seemed dimmer, the future uncertain. She wondered what he might have achieved, what wonders he would have uncovered, had he lived. But these were questions without answers, leaving only a void that no amount of time could fill, and a haunting image of a young boy with auburn curls and dark eyes, forever frozen in time.

Alicent was so deep was her reverie that she didn't hear the door open or the footsteps that followed.

"Alicent.” Came a voice, startling her from her reflections. She turned to see her father, Otto Hightower, standing in the doorway. His presence was always imposing, his stern demeanor a constant reminder of his expectations and ambitions.

"Father.” She acknowledged, her voice subdued. Otto's eyes flicked briefly to the portrait, his expression unreadable.

"We need to discuss Rhaenyra's impending return." Otto began, wasting no time on pleasantries. "The matter of Lucerys' inheritance of Driftmark must be addressed. We cannot allow—"

"Father, please, not now." Alicent interrupted, her voice tinged with irritation. "I am not in the mood for politics."

Otto's eyes narrowed, his patience already fraying. "This is not about mood, Alicent. It's about securing our family's future. Rhaenyra will lay claim to Driftmark for her son, and we must be prepared to counter her."

Alicent sighed, her gaze drifting back to the portrait of Aeryerion. "Must we always scheme and plot? Can we not have a moment of peace?"

"Peace?" Otto's voice rose, incredulous. "There is no peace in the game of thrones, only victory or defeat. Aeryerion understood that. He was willing to seek knowledge wherever it led, even into danger. You must be willing to do the same, to make hard choices."

At the mention of her son, Alicent's composure cracked. She turned on her father, her eyes blazing. "Do not speak of Aeryerion as if you cared for him! You only ever saw his abilities, not the boy he was. He was my son, my brilliant, beautiful boy, and he's gone because he sought more than what this wretched game could offer!"

Otto's face hardened, his jaw tightening. "He is dead, Alicent. He has been for years. Mourning him will not bring him back. You have other children who need you, a family that needs your strength and resolve."

Alicent's hands clenched into fists at her sides, her voice trembling with fury and sorrow. "You think I don't know that? You think I haven't tried to be strong? Aeryerion's death—it wasn't just a loss; it was a theft. The realm was robbed of his brilliance, and I was robbed of my son."

"Enough!" Otto's voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. "You must move on. We have pressing matters that require your attention. Rhaenyra is a threat, and we must ensure that our position remains unassailable."

Alicent's breath came in ragged gasps, her chest heaving with the effort to contain her emotions. She looked at her father, seeing not just the man who had raised her but the embodiment of the relentless pursuit of power that had cost her so much. "I will not forget him, Father. I will not let his memory be trampled by your ambitions."

Otto took a step closer, his eyes cold and calculating. "This is not about forgetting, Alicent. It's about survival. You must be the queen the realm needs, not a grieving mother lost in the past."

For a moment, the room was filled with the tense silence of their shared pain and conflict. Alicent finally turned away, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "Very well.” She said quietly. "What must be done?"

Otto relaxed slightly, sensing her acquiescence. "We cannot allow Rhaenyra to consolidate more power."

Alicent nodded, her mind already shifting to the tasks ahead. But as she glanced once more at Aeryerion's portrait, she silently vowed that she would not allow her father's ambitions to erase the memory of her son.

While Alicent began her preparations Aegon was groaning as he stirred, the dull throb of a hangover pulsating through his skull. The room around him was unfamiliar, and it took a moment for his bleary eyes to adjust to his surroundings. As recognition dawned, a wave of nausea washed over him—not from the remnants of his night's excess, but from the realization of where he was. He wasn't in his own chambers, but in those of a ghost—Aeryerion's chambers.

The anniversary of his twin's death had led Aegon to drink himself into oblivion, seeking to drown the relentless specter of his brother's memory. In his drunken stupor, he had stumbled into Aeryerion's room, a place he had avoided for years, a sanctuary now turned mausoleum. The room was largely untouched, a shrine to a life that had ended too soon. Books lined the shelves, their spines still straight and uncracked, and the bed was neatly made, as though waiting for its occupant to return.

Aegon sat up slowly, his head swimming with a mixture of alcohol and regret. The sight of Aeryerion's belongings, so meticulously arranged, made his skin crawl. His brother's presence lingered in every corner, a haunting reminder of the prodigious genius who had once inhabited this space. Aegon's hatred for Aeryerion was a festering wound, one that had only deepened with time. The brilliance that everyone had admired in Aeryerion had cast a long, dark shadow over Aegon's life.

He couldn't even look at his own reflection without seeing the ghost of the one he despised most. Every time he caught a glimpse of himself, he was reminded of the brother who had outshone him in every conceivable way. Aeryerion had been the golden child, the prodigy, while Aegon had always felt like an afterthought, a pale imitation of the real thing.

Aegon rose unsteadily to his feet, his gaze sweeping over the room. He saw the desk where Aeryerion had spent countless hours studying, the inkpots and quills still neatly arranged as if waiting for his return. The sight filled him with a bitter envy. Aeryerion's hunger for knowledge had driven him to the ends of the earth, even to the cursed lands of Old Valyria, a quest that had ultimately claimed his life. Aegon had never shared that insatiable curiosity—his interests had always been more hedonistic, a desperate attempt to escape the crushing weight of his brother's legacy.

Moving to the window, Aegon looked out over the gardens of the Red Keep, where they had played as children. Those days seemed like a distant dream now, overshadowed by the relentless comparison that had followed him into adulthood. Aegon had come to hate those gardens, just as he had come to hate anything that reminded him of his brother. The memories were too painful, the sense of inadequacy too profound.

The room seemed to close in around him, the walls pressing in with the weight of unspoken expectations and unfulfilled potential. Aegon felt a sudden urge to tear it all down, to destroy the carefully preserved relics of a life that had overshadowed his own. But even in his anger, he knew it would do nothing to erase the past. Aeryerion's memory was indelible, etched into the very fabric of Aegon's existence.

Stumbling back to the bed, Aegon sank down heavily, his head in his hands. The ache in his skull was nothing compared to the ache in his heart, a constant reminder of what he had lost and what he could never be. The anniversary of Aeryerion's death was a cruel reminder, a yearly torment that reopened old wounds and poured salt into them.

In the quiet of the room, surrounded by the ghost of his brother, Aegon felt the full weight of his grief and hatred. It was a burden he carried alone, a testament to a rivalry that had defined his life. As the first light of dawn crept into the room, casting long shadows on the floor, Aegon knew that he would have to face another day in the shadow of a brother who, even in death, continued to overshadow him.

As Aegon muttered curses under his breath, his fists clenched tightly around the bed's edge, the door creaked open. Aemond stepped inside, his single eye sweeping over the room with a mixture of disdain and curiosity. To Aemond, this place was more a crypt than a chamber, a relic of a brother he had barely known. Aeryerion was a stranger, a distant memory that held no more significance than a tale told by an old bard, a ghost before he even died. He had never understood Aegon's obsession, his relentless hatred for a brother who had been gone for a decade.

Aemond's voice cut through the room like a blade. "Is this how you honor our brother's memory, Aegon?" His tone was cold, each word deliberately chosen to wound. "By drowning yourself in wine and self-loathing? Pathetic."

Aegon turned, startled by the intrusion. His bloodshot eyes met Aemond's icy gaze, and for a moment, they stared at each other in silence. The tension was palpable, an invisible line of animosity stretching taut between them.

"What do you want, Aemond?" Aegon spat, his voice hoarse and trembling with anger. "Come to gloat? To remind me how much better he was than me?"

Aemond stepped further into the room, his movements measured and deliberate. "Gloat? No, brother. I came to see if there was anything left of you worth saving. But it seems I was wrong."

Aegon sneered, his hands shaking with barely contained fury. "You always hated me. Don't pretend this is anything but an opportunity to twist the knife."

Aemond shrugged, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "Hate implies a level of care, Aegon. What I feel for you is more akin to indifference. While Aeryerion was a stranger to me. He at least had the decency to be useful in leaving behind a treasure trove of his work."

Aegon's face contorted with rage. "Useful? He was obsessed! A monster driven by a hunger that consumed him. And look where it got him—dead in some forsaken land, chasing after ghosts!"

"Better to be consumed by brilliance than by mediocrity While Aeryerion pursued knowledge and greatness, you've done nothing but drink and whore your way through life." Aemond retorted, his voice dripping with contempt. "He left a legacy. What will you leave behind, Aegon? A trail of empty bottles and bastards?"

"Shut up!" Aegon yelled, his face contorted with fury. "You don't understand! You never understood! He was always there, always better, always the favored one!"

Aemond leaned against the desk, arms crossed, his eye never leaving Aegon's face. "What have you done, Aegon? Wasted your days in cups and brothels, envying a dead man. Aeryerion might have been the favorite, but at least he had the decency to achieve something. What have you accomplished? Nothing."

Aegon's fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles white. "I hate him.” He whispered, more to himself than to Aemond. "I hate him for being everything I couldn't be."

Aemond's expression hardened, his voice growing colder. "And that's your greatest failure, Aegon. Not that Aeryerion was better, but that you allowed his shadow to define you. You let your hatred consume you, and now look at you—a broken man, haunted by a ghost."

"You don't know what it's like, Aemond. You don't know what it means to live in someone's shadow." Aegon glared.

Aemond's eye flashed with anger. "Don't I? I've lived in your shadow, Aegon. The eldest son, the supposed heir, the one who should have led our family with honor. But look at you. You squandered it all. You let our mother down, our family down. Something Aeryrion would have never done. He would have made us proud."

“Get out!” Aegon roared. “Get out before I—”

“Before you what?” Aemond interrupted, stepping closer. “Drink yourself into another stupor? You can’t even muster the strength to fight me, let alone the ghost of Aeryerion. But very well, I'll leave you to your misery. It's where you belong, after all."

As Aemond turned to leave, he paused at the door, casting one last contemptuous glance over his shoulder. "Remember this, Aegon—Aeryerion is dead, wile you're just a living corpse, haunted by a past you can never escape."

The door closed with a soft click, leaving Aegon alone once more in the suffocating silence of Aeryerion's chambers. His brother’s words echoed in his mind, each one a dagger to his already wounded pride. He staggered to his feet, his body trembling with the effort, and stumbled towards the desk where Aeryerion had spent so many hours.

The sight of the neatly arranged inkpots and quills filled him with a fresh wave of anger. He swept his arm across the desk, sending books and papers flying, the sound of their fall a cathartic release of his pent-up fury. But the destruction did nothing to ease the ache in his heart, the relentless sense of inadequacy that gnawed at his soul.

Collapsing back onto the bed, Aegon buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. The room seemed to close in around him, the memories of Aeryerion's brilliance suffocating him with their weight. He could still hear Aemond’s cruel words, could still see the contempt in his brother’s eye.

In the end, Aegon knew that Aemond was right. He was a failure, a man forever trapped in the shadow of the dead. No amount of rage or self-pity could change that. He knew with a sinking heart that he had no choice but to face another day in this living nightmare, haunted by the ghost of a brother he could never escape.

Chapter Text

𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐒 Daemon Targaryen raised Dark Sister, its blade glinting in the torchlight, ready to behead Vaemond Velaryon for his unforgivable insult to his wife and their children, the bells of King's Landing erupted into a frantic clamor. The sound was urgent, desperate, unlike any celebration or announcement they had ever heard.

The great oak doors of the hall burst open, and a breathless knight stumbled in, his armor clanking with each hurried step. "Your Graces!" He panted, eyes wide with fear and disbelief. "A dragon... A dragon circles King's Landing! It's the Bronze Fury!"

Gasps echoed through the hall. Lords and ladies exchanged incredulous glances, their faces pale with shock. Vermithor had not been seen since Prince Aeryrion had ventured into the treacherous ruins of Old Valyria.

Daemon lowered his sword, his eyes narrowing. "Vermithor? Are you certain?" His voice was as sharp as the blade he wielded.

The knight nodded vigorously. "Aye. But that's not all. The dragon has a rider, cloaked and hooded. We couldn't discern their features."

Alicent’s heart pounded as hope flared within her, a blazing fire that threatened to consume her. "A rider?" She demanded, her voice trembling. "Did you see his face?" Her son, lost to them for so long—could he truly have returned?

The knight shook his head. "No, Your Grace. The rider's face was obscured, hidden beneath a cloak. We could not see who it was."

Without a second thought, Alicent abandoned her composure, her courtly manners forgotten. She lifted the skirts of her gown and ran, her footsteps echoing through the corridors of the Red Keep. Servants and guards alike stared in astonishment as she flew past them, her desperation evident in every hurried step. Behind her, Daemon, Rhaenyra, and a number of curious courtiers followed, their curiosity piqued and their hearts pounding with the same mixture of hope and dread.

Out in the courtyard, the air was thick with tension. Vermithor, the massive bronze dragon, latched onto the stone walls of the Red Keep, his eyes glowing like molten gold as he glared down at the assembled crowd. His presence was a menacing shadow over the courtyard, a reminder of the ancient and dangerous power of his kind.

Alicent’s fear of dragons was well known, a deep seated terror that had plagued her since childhood. But now, all thoughts of self-preservation fled her mind. She approached Vermithor with wide eyes, her focus solely on the cloaked rider atop the beast. Her breath came in shallow gasps as she tried to see beneath the shadow of the hood.

The rider sat tall and poised, a figure of dark mystery. The heavy, dark hooded cloak concealed much, but beneath it, glimpses of dark leather armor could be seen, adorned with blades. Strapped to the rider’s back were an identical pair swords, their hilts glinting ominously in the dim light.

Whispers fluttered through the gathered crowd like leaves in a storm.

"Could it be him?"

"Has Prince Aeryrion truly returned?"

"But how? From Old Valyria?"

Daemon stepped forward, his eyes never leaving the rider. "Reveal yourself!" He commanded, his voice a mix of authority and curiosity. "If you are truly Prince Aeryrion, show us your face!"

Alicent’s heart was in her throat, her eyes wide and wet with tears she had held back for too long. "Please…” She whispered, her voice breaking. "Is it really you, my son?"

The rider did not move, his silence only deepening the mystery. The crowd held its breath, the tension palpable. All eyes were on the cloaked figure, each person desperate for the same answer.

Had the prodigious son returned from the cursed lands of Old Valyria alive, or was this some new enigma sent to torment them further? The uncertainty gnawed at everyone, a collective heartbeat of hope and trepidation, as they waited for the revelation that would change everything.

Everyone watched, their breaths held in collective anticipation, as the cloaked rider gracefully dismounted from Vermithor. The dragon’s massive wings folded, and it settled with a low growl, its eyes still fixed on the crowd. The rider stood a mere distance away, the air around him charged with an almost palpable tension.

A strong gust of wind swept through the courtyard, catching the edge of the rider’s hood. It fluttered momentarily before falling back, revealing the face of Prince Aeryrion Targaryen. His features, striking and ethereal, bore the unmistakable beauty of his lineage. His auburn curls, wild and untamed from dragon riding, cascaded down to his waist, tied in a loose braid draped over his shoulder. His eyes, dark brown gleamed with an almost metallic sheen, shifting between bronze and gold in the sunlight. They held a depth of knowledge and experience that spoke of the years he had spent away, surviving in places no one else had dared to venture.

Alicent felt her heart flutter wildly, a mix of overwhelming joy and disbelief. She took a hesitant step forward, but Daemon was quicker. He intercepted her, his sword Dark Sister poised threateningly towards Aeryrion. Though Daemon held no love for the queen, his concern for the safety of everyone present overrode his animosity.

"Stay back, Alicent," Daemon growled, his eyes locked on Aeryrion. "This could be an imposter."

Aeryrion chuckled, the sound rich and mirthful. "Always the cautious one, Uncle. Still wielding that ancient blade, I see. Tell me, do you ever tire of threatening family with it?"

Daemon’s eyes narrowed. "Prove you are who you claim to be."

Aeryrion chuckled softly, a sound that was both familiar and unsettling. "Very well. Do you remember, Mother, the day you taught me to read? I was but a boy, and you insisted on starting with 'The Tales of Nymeria'. You said it was important for a prince to know the stories of powerful women." His gaze softened momentarily as he met Alicent's eyes. "And how you would sneak into the library at night to find books on history and science, just so we could discuss them together even though you understood nothing of what I was saying."

Alicent's eyes filled with tears, her breath hitching as memories flooded back. "Aeryrion.” She whispered, her voice breaking. "It is you."

Ignoring Daemon's warning, she ran to her son, her hands trembling as she reached out to touch his face. Aeryrion's eyes met hers, the familiar warmth and intelligence shining through. She could no longer hold back her emotions. She collapsed to her knees, her arms wrapping around him tightly, pulling him down with her.

"My beautiful boy." Alicent sobbed, her face buried in his chest. "I thought I had lost you forever."

Aeryrion's expression softened. He placed a hand on his mother's head, gently stroking her hair. "I have returned, Mother."

The courtiers and knights around them remained silent, their own feelings of awe and disbelief palpable in the air. The scene before them almost too surreal to believe. Prince Aeryrion Targaryen, the lost prodigy, the genius who had ventured into the depths of Old Valyria and lived to tell the tale.

Alicent clung to Aeryrion as if he were her lifeline, her body shaking with the force of her emotions. "Where have you been? What happened to you?" She managed to ask through her tears.

Aeryrion's gaze hardened slightly, his eyes taking on a more distant look. "Old Valyria is a place of both knowledge and nightmares. I ventured there seeking answers, and I found more than I could have ever imagined. Though that is a story for another time."

For now, the prodigious son had returned, and with him came both hope and uncertainty. The crowd watched in silent wonder, each person grappling with the implications of Aeryrion's return. As the sun set behind the Red Keep, the shadows lengthened, but the light in Alicent's eyes had never shone brighter. Even as her mind raced with questions. Her son was home, and for this moment, that was more enough.

While everyone watched the reunion between the queen and prince, Aegon felt the world closing in on him. His chest tightened as if an iron vice gripped his ribs, making it hard to breathe. He could feel the blood draining from his face, leaving him cold and clammy. His vision blurred at the edges, and the walls of the courtyard seemed to tilt and spin around him. His heart pounded erratically, each beat a thunderous echo in his ears, drowning out the murmurs of the crowd.

His dead twin brother whom he had hated for years, was there, just a mere distance away, alive on the anniversary of his death. The irony was too cruel, too unbearable. He had spent so long grappling with the ghost of Aeryrion—the ghost that had haunted him, overshadowed him, and made him feel lesser in every way. And now, that ghost had returned to flesh and blood, standing tall and proud, as if mocking him.

Aegon’s mind raced, a chaotic swirl of anger, jealousy, and fear. He remembered the countless times he had wished Aeryrion gone, the bitter words exchanged, the cold glares. He had hated Aeryrion’s brilliance, his charm, his way of making everyone else feel insignificant. And now, here he was, back from the dead, stealing the spotlight once more. The memories of their rivalry, their fights, and the resentment he had harbored for so long came crashing down on him like a tidal wave.

He couldn’t take it.

He needed to leave immediately.

Without a word, Aegon turned on his heel and fled the courtyard, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. He pushed past servants and guards, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. The corridors of the Red Keep blurred as he stumbled through them, his mind a storm of conflicting emotions. He could hear the distant, echoing voices of the courtiers, but their words were indistinct, like the buzzing of bees.

He found himself in the kitchens, the warmth and noise of the bustling space doing little to soothe his frayed nerves. His hands shook as he reached for a flagon of wine, nearly knocking it over in his haste. He poured the crimson liquid into a goblet, spilling some on the rough wooden table. He didn’t care. He needed to drown the torment inside him.

Aegon lifted the goblet to his lips and drank deeply, the wine burning a path down his throat. He drank and drank, trying to numb the pain, the confusion, the rage that threatened to consume him. But no matter how much he drank, the image of Aeryrion standing there, alive and well, wouldn’t leave his mind.

"Why now?" He muttered to himself, his voice trembling. "Why today of all days?"

The anniversary of Aeryrion’s supposed death had always been a dark day for Aegon, a day filled with bitterness and regret. He had never truly mourned his brother, had never found closure. And now, instead of solace, he was faced with the impossible—Aeryrion’s return.

"Why couldn’t you just stay dead?" He whispered, his voice breaking. "Why did you have to come back and ruin everything?"

As he drank, the memories of their past flooded back—memories of Aeryrion’s brilliance, his effortless charm, the way he had always seemed to outshine Aegon. Even as children, Aeryrion had been the favored one, the golden child. Aegon had always been in his shadow, always compared and found wanting. The resentment had festered over the years, turning into a deep-seated hatred.

And yet, beneath the hatred, there had always been a sliver of love, of longing for the bond they could have had as brothers. Aegon had buried it deep, had refused to acknowledge it. But now, with Aeryrion’s return, those buried emotions surged to the surface, overwhelming him.

He slammed the goblet down on the table, the wine sloshing over the rim. "Damn you, Aeryrion.” He spat, tears of frustration and sorrow welling up in his eyes. "Damn you for coming back and making me feel this way."

He sank to the floor, the weight of his emotions too much to bear. He buried his face in his hands, the tears flowing freely now. He felt like he was drowning, caught in a maelstrom of feelings he couldn’t control. The wine did little to numb the pain; instead, it seemed to amplify it, bringing all his grievances to the forefront.

For a moment, he allowed himself to cry, to release the pent-up emotions he had held back for so long. But even as he wept, a part of him remained cold and angry, refusing to forgive, refusing to forget.

"Aeryrion…” He whispered, tears streaming down his face. "Why did you come back? Why now? I can't...I can't do this."

As Aegon drowned his sorrows in wine, Alicent led Aeryrion through the winding corridors of the Red Keep towards the Great Hall, a procession of courtiers and nobles trailing behind them like a curious, whispering shadow. The weight of the years apart hung heavy between mother and son, but Alicent's heart swelled with a mixture of relief and apprehension. She gripped Aeryrion's hand tightly, her eyes never leaving his face, as if afraid that he might vanish again if she looked away.

The doors to the Great Hall creaked open, revealing the vast chamber with its towering columns and the Iron Throne, a monstrous amalgamation of swords and steel. There, slumped upon the throne, was King Viserys, his face pale and gaunt, his body ravaged by illness. His once vibrant eyes were now clouded with pain and weariness, but they lit up with a flicker of recognition as Aeryrion entered.

As Aegon drowned his sorrows in wine, the rest of the court moved in a solemn procession through the dimly lit corridors of the Red Keep, trailing behind Alicent and her newly returned son, Aeryrion. The atmosphere was thick with a mix of disbelief, curiosity, and hope. Alicent led Aeryrion to the great hall, her heart pounding with a blend of excitement and anxiety. She glanced back occasionally, ensuring that her son was still there, afraid that he might vanish like a figment of her imagination.

When they reached the great hall, Aeryrion's gaze fell upon the Iron Throne, where his father, King Viserys, sat slumped and frail, barely clinging to life. The once powerful king had been reduced to a shadow of his former self, his skin pale and eyes sunken, the ravages of time and illness evident in every line of his face.

Aeryrion approached the throne with measured steps, his auburn curls catching the light, casting a reddish-gold halo around his head. He knelt before his father, his voice soft yet resonant. "Father, I have returned. I am deeply sorry for being a terrible son and for the pain my absence has caused."

Viserys peered down at him, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Aeryrion... my son. You live."

Aeryrion nodded, reaching into his cloak. "I bring you a gift from Valyria, a token of my journey." He pulled out a ring, intricately forged from Valyrian steel, with a bloodstone set into its center. The gem pulsated with a dark, crimson glow, almost as if it were alive.

Viserys' eyes widened with a mixture of awe and curiosity. "What is this, my son?"

"It is a ring of healing.” Aeryrion explained, his voice steady. "May I approach to give it to you?"

Viserys hesitated for a moment, then nodded, his voice barely a whisper. "You may."

Aeryrion rose and stepped closer to the throne, the ring held delicately between his fingers. As he slid it onto Viserys' frail finger, a collective gasp echoed through the hall. The change was almost immediate. Color began to return to Viserys' cheeks, and the dullness in his eyes was replaced by a spark of vitality. His posture straightened, and he took a deep, rejuvenated breath.

The courtiers and nobles watched in stunned disbelief as the transformation continued. Murmurs of astonishment rippled through the crowd.

Aeryrion turned to face the gathered assembly, his dark eyes gleaming with both satisfaction and pride. "In Old Valyria, such artifacts were used to heal and restore. The knowledge of their creation was thought lost, but I have brought it back."

Viserys, now visibly stronger, rose from his throne and embraced his son, tears streaming down his face. "Aeryrion, you have returned to me not only alive but as the savior of my health. I cannot express how grateful I am."

Aeryrion held his father tightly, the hard edge to his usual demeanor softened by the rare display of familial affection. "I have missed you, Father. I am here to stay and serve our family and realm."

Viserys pulled back, his voice filled with newfound strength. "In three days, we will have a feast to celebrate your return, my son. Let all of King's Landing rejoice!"

The hall erupted into cheers and applause, the tension and uncertainty giving way to jubilation. Alicent stood to the side, tears of joy streaming down her face. She had her son back, and her husband was healed. It was more than she could have ever hoped for.

Viserys turned to Aeryrion. "Tell me, my son, what else did you find in Valyria? What other secrets have you uncovered?"

Aeryrion's eyes sparkled with a mix of knowledge and mystery. "Many things, Father. Knowledge that could change the fate of our house and the realm. But those are tales for another time. Tonight, let us celebrate."

Chapter Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 buzzed with an uneasy energy, a rare assembly of the realm's most powerful and influential figures.

Otto stood rigidly by the window, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Viserys sat at the head of the long table, his fingers drumming a restless rhythm against the wood. Beside him, Alicent clutched her hands together, her knuckles white. Helaena, Aemond, and a drunken Aegon, who had been dragged from the kitchens, sat around their mother. Across from them, Rhaenyra and Daemon exchanged glances, their sons Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey hovering close by. Rhaenys and Corlys Velaryon, along with Baela and Rhaena, added to the tense tableau.

All eyes were fixed on Aeryrion, who stood in the center of the room. His eyes, flickered with amusement as he took in the incredulous faces around him.

"Aeryrion—“ Rhaenyra began, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and disbelief. “—you were missing for a decade and presumed dead. We thought you lost to the cursed lands of Old Valyria. How is it that you stand here now, unscathed?"

Aeryrion's lips curled into a faint, enigmatic smile. "The world is vast and full of wonders. I have seen things that would make even the bravest of men quiver. But why dwell on the past when the present is so much more... intriguing?"

"Intriguing?" Daemon scoffed, crossing his arms. "You disappeared without a trace and now you return on the anniversary of your supposed death. What game are you playing?"

Aeryrion's eyes sparkled with mischief. "No game. Just a series of remarkable adventures. Vermithor and I have journeyed through Essos, Ulthos, and beyond. The world hold secrets that would boggle the mind."

Aegon slurred. "Adventures? You left us all behind for some... some grand tour?" He hiccuped, trying to steady himself.

Aeryrion chuckled softly. "I did not leave you behind. I simply... expanded my horizons."

"What of your horizon now?" Aemond's voice was cold, his single eye fixed on Aeryrion. "Why return now, after all these years?"

Aeryrion's gaze turned sharp, his smile fading. "Because, the time is ripe for change. This realm is stagnant, and I have plans to breathe new life into it."

"Plans?" Viserys finally spoke, his voice heavy with authority. "What plans could justify your disappearance and this cryptic return?"

Aeryrion stepped closer to his father, his expression softening slightly. "Father, I have gained knowledge and allies that can strengthen our house. The threats we face are not just from within but from far beyond our shores. My return is not just a homecoming, it is a strategic move."

Otto's voice cut through the air, his skepticism palpable. "So we are to believe this is for the good of the realm? What proof do you offer of your tales and your intentions?"

Aeryrion's eyes flashed with irritation. "Proof? My survival through the cursed lands of Old Valyria should be proof enough of my capabilities. But if you need more, how about the wealth of knowledge I bring? I have maps of uncharted territories, alliances with powerful factions in Essos, countless items I brought with me, and strategies that could outmaneuver any foe."

Rhaenys leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. "What do you expect in return for this... generosity?"

Aeryrion's smile returned, more calculating than before. "Simply the opportunity to prove my worth. To show that I am not just the prodigal son but a vital asset to this family and this realm."

Helaena’s voice softened, a hint of sadness creeping in. "We mourned you, Aeryrion. We thought you lost forever. Why did you not send word? Why did you let us believe you were dead?"

Aeryrion's expression grew distant, his voice low. "Because, some journeys must be undertaken alone. And some truths are too complex to be conveyed through mere words. But I am here now, and I promise you, my return is just the beginning."

The room fell silent, the weight of his words settling over them like a shroud. Each person grappled with a mix of emotions—anger, suspicion, hope, and a lingering sense of awe.

Aegon's face twisted with a mix of rage and envy. For years, he had harbored a deep resentment towards his perfect brother. Aeryrion had always been the golden child, the one who could do no wrong. When Aeryrion was presumed dead, Aegon had felt a perverse sense of relief, a lifting of the shadow that had always loomed over him. But now, seeing his brother return with tales of adventures and unimaginable freedom—freedom that Aegon himself could only dream of—was too much to bear.

Aegon shot up from his chair, his movements clumsy from the wine. "You think you can just strut back in here like nothing happened?" He spat, staggering towards Aeryrion. "You abandoned us!"

Aeryrion raised an eyebrow, his expression one of mild amusement. "Is that what you think, Aegon? That I abandoned you?"

"Yes!" Aegon shouted, his voice cracking. "While you were out gallivanting across the world, we were here, trapped in this miserable castle, dealing with the burdens you left behind!"

Aeryrion's smile faded, replaced by an icy calm. "Careful, brother.” He said softly. "You know not what you speak of."

Aegon's fists clenched at his sides. The room seemed to hold its breath, the tension palpable. "You think you're so much better than us, don't you? Always the favored one, always perfect. Well, you're not! You're just a selfish, arrogant—"

Before anyone could react, Aegon swung his fist at Aeryrion. Time seemed to slow as the blow arced through the air. But before it could connect, a dark, terrifying shadow materialized beside Aeryrion, blocking Aegon's attack effortlessly. The creature's eyes glowed a menacing gold, its form shifting and writhing like smoke made solid.

Gasps echoed through the room as everyone recoiled in fear. The creature was unlike anything they had ever seen, its presence both awe-inspiring and horrifying. It stood tall, its body a mass of shadow and darkness, its eyes piercing through the gloom like the sun. The figure's mouth opened, emitting a cacophony of voices—hundreds of thousands of them, overlapping and reverberating through the solar room.

"Ñuhor lēkia, jāre naejot se lōgor!" The distorted voice was a symphony of agony and power, each word vibrating with a dreadful resonance. “Get away from the Lightbringer!”

Everyone recoiled in fear, their faces pale and their eyes wide with terror. Aegon stumbled backward, his bravado extinguished, his body shaking uncontrollably.

Aeryrion remained unperturbed, his expression calm. "Lykirīr, kessa sagon sȳz.” He commanded in a soothing tone. The shadowy figure hesitated, then began to shift and contract until it took the form of a small dragon that curled protectively around Aeryrion's feet. “Calm down, it will be fine.”

“What in the Seven Hells is that?” Rhaenyra whispered, her eyes wide with shock.

Aeryrion looked down at the dragon, then back at his family. “This is a manifestation of the damned souls of Old Valyria. They have taken a liking to me during my travels and have chosen to protect me.”

The room was filled with a stunned silence. Everyone stared at Aeryrion, truly seeing him for the first time. This wasn’t the curious boy who spent his days and nights buried in books. This was a man grown who had seen the world’s darkest corners and returned with eyes that were now as lifeless as the souls that guarded him.

Alicent’s composure crumbled, tears streaming down her face as she whispered. “Aeryrion, my beautiful boy… What have they done to you? You’re cursed!”

Viserys, however, was silent, his eyes wide with a mix of awe and dread. In his heart, a secret hope blossomed. Could this be the sign he had been waiting for? The prophecy of the prince that was promised? Was his son the chosen one, destined to bring light to the darkness? He dared not voice these thoughts, but they consumed him, filling him with a strange, fearful reverence.

The rest of them exchanged uneasy glances, trying to reconcile the boy they once knew with the man before them. This was no longer the child who spent his days lost in books and scrolls. This was someone who had faced the horrors of the world and returned with dead, lifeless eyes that spoke of unspeakable experiences.

Aegon, still trembling, stared at his brother with a mix of hatred and fear. "What... What are you, Aeryrion?"

Aeryrion's smile was cold, almost otherworldly. "I am simply what the world has made me, and what I must be."

The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of Aeryrion's words and the presence of the creature sinking into their bones. They were no longer just looking at a prodigal son returned from the dead. They were looking at a man transformed, a figure of both hope and terror, and they could not yet grasp what that would mean for their future.

As the dragon coiled at his feet, Aeryrion stood tall, every eye in the room fixed upon him. For the first time, they truly saw him, and the realization struck deep, the boy they had known was gone, replaced by a man of unfathomable power and haunting mystery.

The silence in the solar room was suffocating. All eyes were locked on Aeryrion and the small dragon at his feet, the creature's golden eyes flickering menacingly as it surveyed the assembled group. The only sounds that broke the oppressive quiet were Alicent's soft sobs, her tears flowing freely as she mourned for her son, her beloved Aeryrion, whom she now believed to be cursed.

Viserys, his face a mask of concern and curiosity, finally broke the silence. "Aeryrion, why do they call you Lightbringer? What does it mean?"

Aeryrion's gaze turned thoughtful as he recalled the words of the damned souls of Valyria. "The souls spoke to me in their endless whispers. They told me that I am meant to light the way through a dark night. They believe I have a role to play in bringing light to the darkness."

Viserys and Rhaenyra exchanged a charged glance, both of them understanding the weight of Aeryrion's words. The Song of Ice and Fire loomed large in their minds, the ancient prophecy that spoke of a hero who would rise to combat the coming darkness. Yet, they said nothing, their eyes shifting back to Aeryrion, who was watching them with a questioning gaze.

Aeryrion frowned slightly, sensing the unspoken tension. "Why do you look at me like that? What is it you are not telling me?"

Rhaenyra, her voice carefully measured, responded. "It is nothing, brother. Just the musings of old prophecies and legends."

Aeryrion's eyes narrowed, not entirely convinced but willing to let the matter drop for now.

Alicent's cries grew more hysterical, her body shaking with the force of her grief. She looked at her son, her heart breaking at the sight of him. "My sweet boy, you're cursed!"

Aeryrion moved to her side, his demeanor softening. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close and pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Mother, please, do not despair. I am here. I am alive."

Alicent clung to him, her tears soaking his tunic. "Oh, Aeryrion, I feared I had lost you forever. This... This creature, these souls... What have they done?"

He stroked her hair, his voice soothing. "They have shown me things, Mother. Things that have changed me, but I am still your son. I will always be your son."

Viserys watched the scene unfold, his heart heavy with conflicting emotions. His mind raced with the implications of Aeryrion's return and the creature that accompanied him. Was this a sign of the prophecy? Was his son truly the prince that was promised? He dared not voice these thoughts, the burden of hope and fear intertwining within him.

Aegon, still trembling from his encounter with the creature, found his voice. "So, what now, Aeryrion? You come back with yo—your monster and expect us to just accept it? Accept you?"

Aeryrion's gaze shifted to his brother, his expression unreadable. "I expect nothing, Aegon. My return was never about expectations. It was about necessity. There are things happening in this world that you cannot begin to comprehend."

Daemon's eyes narrowed, his suspicion unabated. "What threats do you foresee?"

Aeryrion's face turned grave. "The threats from beyond the known world, threats that could bring ruin to us all. My travels have shown me the fragility of our existence. We must be prepared."

Rhaenys stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. "How do you propose we prepare for such threats? What knowledge do you bring that can aid us?"

Aeryrion inclined his head. "I bring knowledge of alliances that can be forged, of enemies that must be confronted before they gather strength. The world is changing, and we must change with it."

Alicent's sobs had quieted to soft whimpers, her strength nearly spent. She looked up at Aeryrion, her eyes red and swollen. "Please, Aeryrion, take me to my chambers. I need to rest. This is all too much."

He nodded, helping her to her feet with the utmost care. "Of course, Mother. I will see you to your chambers."

As Aeryrion guided Alicent from the room, the small dragon at his feet followed faithfully. The others watched in silence, their minds reeling from the revelations and the presence of the creature. The weight of what they had witnessed settled heavily on their shoulders, and they knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

Viserys and Rhaenyra exchanged another look, a silent communication passing between them. They both understood the gravity of Aeryrion's return and the potential implications for their future. As they watched him leave, they couldn't help but feel a mixture of fear and hope. The prophecy loomed large in their minds, and they were left to ponder what role Aeryrion would play in the unfolding history of their house.

Once Aeryrion and Alicent had left the room, a heavy silence settled over the assembly. The tension was palpable, a living thing that coiled around each person, binding them in their thoughts. Daemon’s eyes flickered with a mixture of disdain and skepticism as he turned to Viserys, breaking the silence with a voice that held an edge of incredulity.

“Surely, you can't actually believe the shit he said.” Daemon scoffed, his lips curling in a mocking smile. “Damned souls, Lightbringer... it sounds like the ramblings of a madman.”

Viserys's gaze remained fixed on the door through which his son had just exited, his thoughts a tumultuous storm. He took a deep breath, his fingers drumming a rhythmic pattern on the armrest of his chair.

"Daemon..” He began slowly, choosing his words with care, "Aeryrion has always been... different. His intellect and abilities have surpassed anything we've ever known. We mustn't dismiss his words so lightly."

Daemon's eyes narrowed, his posture rigid. "Different or not, claiming to be guided by the souls of Old Valyria is a bold and dangerous claim. We need more than just his word."

Rhaenyra, who had been silent, stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. "Father is right. We need to consider the possibility that Aeryrion's experiences have given him knowledge we lack. We cannot afford to be blind to potential threats."

Aegon, still pale from his encounter with the creature, sneered. "So, what? We just bow to him and his monster? Accept everything he says without question?"

"No one is suggesting blind acceptance, Aegon. But we must be cautious. Aeryrion's return could mean many things. We need to understand his motives and his knowledge before making any rash decisions." Viserys said.

Aemond, who had been observing quietly, finally spoke, his voice measured. "If Aeryrion has truly encountered threats beyond our understanding, we must learn from him. His return, no matter how unsettling, could be a boon if handled correctly."

Rhaenys, her eyes reflecting the wisdom of her years, nodded in agreement. "Knowledge is power. We need to gather as much information as we can. Aeryrion's experiences, as bizarre as they may seem, are a resource we cannot ignore."

Viserys, feeling the weight of leadership pressing upon him, sighed deeply. "We shall proceed with caution. Aeryrion will be questioned further, and his knowledge scrutinized. But we must also be prepared for the possibility that his return is a sign of greater things to come."

Daemon's expression darkened, his distrust evident. "What of the creature? Are we to allow that... thing to roam freely within our walls?"

Rhaenys said her voice steady. "The creature is bound to Aeryrion. It seems to protect him. We need to understand its nature and purpose before making any decisions."

Viserys nodded, his resolve firming. "Agreed. We will investigate the creature and its origins. For now, it remains under close observation."

Rhaenyra, her gaze sharp, added. "We should also be wary of how this news spreads. The realm is already unstable. The return of Aeryrion, with such a creature, could cause panic and dissent."

Corlys, his voice a deep rumble, concurred. "We must control the narrative. Ensure that this information is handled with the utmost secrecy until we have a clearer picture of what we are dealing with."

The room fell silent once more, each person lost in their thoughts. The implications of Aeryrion's return were vast and uncertain, a puzzle with too many missing pieces. The only certainty was that their world had irrevocably changed.

Rhaenyra glanced at her father, a silent understanding passing between them. The prophecy loomed large in their minds, but they dared not speak of it. The stakes were too high, the consequences too dire. They would wait and watch, gathering information and biding their time.

Aegon, still seething with resentment, muttered under his breath, "I still don't trust him. He's hiding something. He always has."

Helaena, who had been quiet throughout the discussion, finally spoke, her voice soft but clear. "The future is uncertain, and we can ill afford to be divided."

Viserys stood, signaling the end of the meeting. "We will reconvene once we have more information. Until then, trust no one outside this room with what you have learned today. Our strength lies in our unity and our caution."

Chapter Text

𝐀𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 more than to punch Aeryrion’s face. How dare his golden child twin brother disappear for over a decade, get declared dead, and suddenly show up on the anniversary of his presumed death?

Aeryrion had been gallivanting around the world without a care, basking in all the freedom life had to offer. Meanwhile, their mother mourned endlessly for her favorite son, and Aegon was left to drown in the expectations and pressures of becoming king. Always, always being compared to Aeryrion, the prodigious genius, the brightest mind in centuries. And now, the audacious bastard had strutted back into their lives as if nothing had changed.

Aegon’s blood boiled as he stumbled, utterly wasted on wine, into Aeryrion’s chambers—chambers that had been empty for a decade—he expected to find his brother asleep, but Aeryrion was anything but.

Aeryrion sat on the windowsill, overlooking King’s Landing. The room was illuminated only by the cold, eerie moonlight. His dark auburn curls flowed freely in the night breeze, and his complexion gleamed like marble, sculpted to perfection. His silk white robe with intricate golden designs clung loosely to his form, leaving little to the imagination. When he turned to face Aegon, his eyes—those otherworldly eyes—captivated and infuriated Aegon all at once.

Gods. Aegon hated him.

Aeryrion's lips curled into an amused smile. "You should be sleeping, brother.” He said, his voice a smooth, melodic drawl.

Aegon’s fists clenched at his sides. "And you should be dead.” He spat back, his words slurring from the wine.

Aeryrion chuckled, a sound that grated on Aegon's nerves. "Yet, here I am—life is full of surprises, isn't it?"

Aegon staggered forward, his emotions a chaotic whirlpool. "Do you have any idea what you've done? I was left to pick up the pieces, to carry the weight of the crown that should have been yours."

Aeryrion raised an eyebrow, his expression one of detached curiosity. "How did that go for you? Did you rise to the challenge, or did you crumble under the pressure?"

Rage flared in Aegon’s eyes. "Everyone said you would have been the better king. Even in death, you overshadowed me. And now you return as if nothing happened, as if you didn't abandon us all!"

Aeryrion stood, his movements graceful and deliberate. "I never asked to be the favored son. I never asked for any of it. I wanted to see the world, to learn, to grow. You could have done the same, but you chose to stay and wallow in what could have been."

Aegon’s vision blurred with fury and wine. "You don't get to lecture me. You were the one who left. You were the one who chose freedom over family, over duty. Even though I want to leave more than anything I fucking can’t! I’m trapped! I’m the firstborn son! I can’t leave!”Aegon roared, closing the distance between them.

Aeryrion’s expression softened, just for a moment. "I never meant for you to suffer. Perhaps it was necessary. Perhaps you needed to face those challenges to become stronger."

Aegon’s hands trembled with a mix of anger and confusion. He didn’t know whether he wanted to kill his brother or kiss him. He took a step closer, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Now that you’re here, you can be king. Take the damn crown and the burdens that come with it. I don’t fucking want it."

Aeryrion raised a brow. "Is that what you think? That I’ve come back for the crown? You misunderstand me. I’ve seen the world. I’ve tasted freedom. I have no desire to chain myself to a throne."

Aegon’s mind reeled. "Then why are you here? Why now?"

Aeryrion stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Because, I have plans that go beyond the Iron Throne. Whether you like it or not, are part of those plans."

Aegon’s patience snapped, his emotions boiling over. With a roar of frustration, he swung his fist, striking Aeryrion across the face.

When Aeryrion turned his face back to Aegon, the latter saw that his ring had cut Aeryrion’s lip, blood staining his face and dripping onto his robes. Yet, what startled Aegon was the way the cut lip began to heal rapidly, the wound knitting itself back together until the only evidence left was the spilled blood.

Aeryrion’s eyes glinted with an eerie calm as the shadows in the room began to shift and writhe. Raising a hand, he signaled the shadows to stop, their restless movement ceasing at his command. He stepped closer to Aegon, his voice a soft, almost tender whisper. "Hit me again, as many times as it takes to let out your anger."

Aegon’s heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of fear and fury coursing through his veins. He already knew about Aeryrion’s shadow creatures, but the healing was unexpected and unsettling. Yet, he shoved that aside, his rage demanding an outlet.

"You think you can just stroll back into our lives and everything will be fine?" Aegon snarled, throwing another punch. This time, Aeryrion didn’t flinch, his head snapping back with the force of the blow. Blood trickled from his nose, but the same rapid healing process began again.

Aegon’s knuckles split and bled, but he didn’t care. He wanted to hurt Aeryrion, to make him feel a fraction of the pain and betrayal that had haunted Aegon for years.

"You left us! You left me! Do you have any idea what that did to us!?" Aegon roared, shoving Aeryrion hard.

Aeryrion’s gaze was steady, unyielding. "I know. I know the pain I caused. But I had my reasons."

Aegon’s fists struck out again, a flurry of blows that Aeryrion neither blocked nor avoided. Each punch landed with a sickening thud, but Aeryrion remained standing, his expression one of stoic endurance.

"Fight back!" Aegon screamed, his voice cracking. "Do something!"

Aeryrion’s voice was a whisper, almost drowned out by Aegon’s ragged breaths. "I am doing something. I’m letting you release your anger. You need this."

Tears of frustration and rage welled in Aegon’s eyes. "You don’t get to act like the noble martyr. You’re the cause of this! A ghost haunting our family. Mother cried for you every night. I had to listen to her sobs, knowing I could never be what you were to her."

Aeryrion’s eyes softened, a rare glimpse of something human. "I never wished to hurt her. Yet I could not stay. I was suffocating."

"So was I!" Aegon’s voice broke, a mixture of sorrow and fury. "I was left to suffocate in your place!

You were always the favorite. The prodigy. While I was... I was never enough."

Aeryrion grabbed Aegon’s wrists, stopping his next punch. "You were always enough. It was never about being enough for them. It’s about being enough for yourself."

Aegon’s breath came in ragged gasps, his eyes filled with tears of frustration. "I hate you…” He whispered, the words carrying the weight of years of resentment. "I wish you were actually dead."

Aeryrion’s eyes softened, and for a moment, a flicker of genuine sorrow crossed his face. "Sometimes, I wish the same, I think it would have been easier."

Aegon wrenched his hands free, staggering back. "You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to act like the fucking victim here."

Aeryrion nodded, his expression one of resigned acceptance. "I know I don’t. But Aegon, I’m here for you now."

Aegon shook his head, the anger still simmering beneath the surface. "I don’t need you."

With that, Aegon turned and stormed out of Aeryrion’s chambers, his footsteps echoing down the silent corridor. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving Aeryrion alone in the quiet of the night. He moved back to the window, the moonlight casting a pale glow on his face. He touched the place where Aegon had struck him, the skin smooth and unblemished once more.

Aeryrion sighed, a deep, weary sound. The shadows in the room shifted again, almost as if they were comforting him. He glanced at the closed door, a mixture of regret and determination in his eyes.

"One day, Aegon." He murmured to the night. "One day, you’ll understand."

For now, the only response was the whisper of the wind and the distant sounds of the sleeping city below, as Aeryrion stood alone, the weight of his choices heavy on his shoulders.

Aeryrion closed his eyes, feeling the shadows around him shifting and reaching out with an almost sentient hunger. Their touch sent shivers down his spine, a possessive hold that felt both intimate and terrifying. He could hear the souls of old Valyria whispering in his ears, their voices a cacophony of ancient tongues and sinister promises. They claimed him as theirs, their Lightbringer, the one destined to set the realm aflame, the doom of Westeros.

He was completely helpless, a puppet to their dark desires. This was the price he paid for the forbidden knowledge he coveted. His body went limp, surrendering to the shadows as they wrapped around him like a lover’s embrace, their hold both a comfort and a prison. The air grew colder, and Aeryrion felt the icy tendrils of the shadows penetrating his very soul, delving into the deepest recesses of his mind.

The shadows caressed his skin with a sensuality that made his breath hitch, their touch both seductive and suffocating. They traced the lines of his body, lingering on the places where Aegon’s blows had landed, as if savoring the remnants of pain and anger. The whispers grew louder, a maddening chorus of adoration and expectation.

“You are ours." They hissed, their voices blending into one. 

Aeryrion’s heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing like a drum in the silence of the night. He tried to resist, to push them away, but his efforts were in vain. The shadows held him tighter, their grip unyielding. They slipped under his robe, teasing the bare skin beneath, their touch both chilling and burning. His every nerve was alight with their dark energy, a twisted blend of pleasure and pain.

"Please…” Aeryrion whispered, his voice barely audible. "Release me…"

Yet the shadows only tightened their hold, their whispers growing louder, more insistent. "You belong to us." They hissed.

Aeryrion's breath hitched as he felt the darkness seep into his very bones, a chilling sensation that left him feeling hollow and exposed. His mind raced, trying to escape the invasive presence, but there was no refuge, no sanctuary from the shadows’ relentless grip. They were inside him, entwined with his soul, their hold both terrifying and intimate.

"Why do you resist?" The souls whispered, their voices overlapping in a cacophony of dread. "You sought us out first."

Aeryrion's eyes fluttered open, the room around him a blur of darkness and moonlight. The shadows seemed to pulse with life, their presence a living, breathing entity. He could feel their hunger, their desire to consume him completely, to meld with him until there was nothing left of his own will.

"I didn't know…" He choked out, his voice cracking. "I didn't know it would be like this."

The shadows laughed, a sound that echoed in his mind, chilling him to the core. "You ignorance is no excuse."

Aeryrion's body shuddered as the shadows continued their exploration, their touch both a caress and a torment. He felt like he was drowning in darkness, every breath a struggle, every heartbeat a reminder of his helplessness. The shadows were relentless, their hold tightening with each passing moment, their whispers growing louder, more insistent.

"Embrace us.” They urged. "Accept your fate, Lightbringer."

Aeryrion's mind reeled, torn between the seductive promise of power and the terrifying reality of his situation. He could feel the shadows weaving themselves into his very essence, their presence a constant, unyielding pressure. He was no longer just Aeryrion Targaryen, he was something more, something darker, and has been for years.

"Never." He whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. "I will never surrender to you."

The shadows hissed in response, their grip tightening painfully. "You have no choice. You are ours, and we will consume you."

Aeryrion's breath came in shallow gasps, his body trembling with the effort of resisting their pull. "I am not yours." He whispered, his voice barely audible. "I am no one's."

The shadows recoiled slightly at his words, their grip loosening just enough for Aeryrion to regain a semblance of control. He took a deep breath, summoning what strength he had left, and pushed back against their hold. The shadows hissed in displeasure, their whispers turning to angry murmurs.

"You will not control me." Aeryrion said, his voice growing steadier, more resolute. "I am your master, not your slave."

The shadows paused, their forms flickering uncertainly. Aeryrion seized the moment. He raised his hand, and with a force of will, pushed the shadows back, banishing them to the corners of the room. They retreated, their whispers fading into the background, leaving Aeryrion standing alone, the room once again bathed in the pale light of the moon.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, his body still trembling from the ordeal. The room was silent now, the shadows lurking at the edges, waiting for another chance to claim him. Aeryrion stood tall, his eyes burning with determination. He had paid the price for his knowledge, but he would not let it consume him. He would not let the shadows dictate his fate.

"One day.” He murmured to the night, his voice filled with quiet resolve. "One day, I will be free."

For now, he turned back to the window, staring out at the sleeping city below, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and plans. The shadows might have claimed a part of him, but they did not own him. For as long as he had breath in his body, he would fight to keep it that way.

Chapter Text

𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓’𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 drummed nervously on the polished mahogany table, her eyes flickering towards the grand double doors of the dining hall. This was the first family breakfast with Aeryrion since he had vanished a decade ago. The room was filled with tension and anticipation, each family member seated in their designated place.

Viserys, eager and impatient, sat at the head of the table, with Alicent on his left. Their children Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond were present, as were Rhaenyra and Daemon with their sons Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey. Corlys and Rhaenys, along with their granddaughters Baela and Rhaena, completed the gathering.

Alicent’s youngest, Daeron, was still in Oldtown but would undoubtedly fly back to King's Landing once he learned of his elder brother's miraculous return.

The younger children—Aegon the Younger, Viserys the Younger, Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, and Maelor—had been excused due to their tender ages. The air was thick with curiosity and unease, all eyes darting to the door at the slightest sound.

Viserys leaned over to Rhaenyra, nudging her to shift one seat down. "Aeryrion will sit here.” He commanded, leaving no room for argument.

Rhaenyra complied, albeit with a raised eyebrow. Alicent’s heart pounded in her chest. She had meticulously organized the breakfast, ensuring Aeryrion’s favorite dishes were prepared.

The doors creaked open, and Aeryrion strolled in, drawing every eye in the room. He wore a loose, dark blue silk robe with intricate golden embroidery, so loose that his entire torso was fully revealed, showcasing his lean, muscular physique. His auburn curls, cascading to his waist, were messy yet charming, framing his strikingly beautiful face. His dark brown eyes glinted, shifting between bronze and gold, exuding an almost otherworldly allure. Around his neck hung a golden necklace adorned with sapphires, adding to his sophisticated and dramatic presence.

Aeryrion surveyed the breakfast spread with a laugh, his voice rich and melodious. "You remembered my favorites.” He said, his eyes meeting Alicent's. She smiled softly, her heart swelling with maternal pride. "Of course, I did.” She replied, her voice trembling slightly.

Taking his seat next to Viserys, Aeryrion’s presence commanded the room. The tension was palpable, each family member eager to hear about his adventures.

Viserys leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Tell us, Aeryrion, what was Old Valyria like?"

Aeryrion’s smile faded, replaced by a distant look. "Old Valyria…" He began, but then he shook his head slightly. "Another time, let's speak of something else. My stay in Yi Ti was far more fascinating."

Aegon, leaned in, his eyes narrowing. "Why evade, brother? What happened in Old Valyria?"

Aeryrion’s gaze turned cold, his voice sharpening. "Not everything is meant to be shared, Aegon. Yi Ti, however, is a land of wonders. The Great Empire of the Dawn, the Golden Emperor..."

Rhaenyra interrupted, her curiosity piqued. "Yi Ti? I've heard tales. Is it true they have cities made entirely of jade?"

Aeryrion nodded, a smile playing on his lips. "Indeed. The Jade Sea shimmers like a vast emerald, and the cities are marvels of architecture and magic. The scholars there possess knowledge that rivals even our own maesters."

Aemond, ever the skeptic, scoffed. "Magic? Surely you jest."

Aeryrion’s eyes sparkled with amusement. "Oh, always the doubter I remembered. I assure you, the magic in Yi Ti is very real. Their sorcerers wield power that would make even our dragons bow."

Daemon, leaning back in his chair, chuckled. "Sounds like you had quite the adventure. But why Yi Ti, of all places?"

Aeryrion’s expression grew serious. "Knowledge, Uncle. Yi Ti holds secrets that could change the world. Their history, their lore... it's unparalleled."

Helaena, always the quiet observer, spoke up. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

Aeryrion’s gaze softened as he looked at his sister. "In a way, yes. But the search for knowledge is never truly over. There is always more to learn, more to discover."

Corlys, ever the seafarer, leaned forward with interest. "And the journey? How did you travel there?"

Aeryrion leaned back in his chair, a wistful smile playing on his lips as he began recounting his arrival in Yi Ti. "I was on Vermithor." He started, his voice carrying a hint of nostalgia. "We were soaring high above the clouds when a storm struck. The winds were fierce, and we were thrown off course. We crash-landed in the gardens of Prince Jianyu, he was the heir to the throne of Yi Ti."

Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "And what was your relationship with this prince?"

Aeryrion's eyes darkened for a brief moment, but he quickly masked it with a charming smile. "Prince Jianyu and I shared a bond akin to brotherhood. He welcomed me with open arms, and we became fast friends. He was a man of great wisdom and strength."

Aegon snorted, clearly skeptical. "Brotherhood? That’s it? You expect us to believe you spent all that time with a foreign prince and it was just camaraderie?"

Aeryrion's smile didn't waver. "Believe what you wish, Aegon. Jianyu and I had many adventures together. For instance, we fought and dismantled Yi Ti’s largest and most dangerous criminal organization. It was quite the undertaking."

Viserys leaned forward, his interest piqued. "Tell us more about this organization. How did you manage such a feat?"

Aeryrion's eyes gleamed with excitement as he launched into the tale. "The organization was known as the Jade Serpent. They controlled everything from trade routes to underground markets. Their influence was vast, and their leader, a man known only as the Serpent King, was as ruthless as he was cunning."

Viserys’ eyes widened. "How did you and the prince defeat them?"

Aeryrion leaned in, his voice lowering conspiratorially. "It took months of planning. We infiltrated their ranks, gathering information and biding our time. Jianyu was a master strategist, and together, we devised a plan to take them down from within. We struck at their heart, the Serpent King's fortress, in the dead of night."

Daemon grinned, clearly enjoying the story. "Sounds like quite the adventure. Did you face the Serpent King yourself?"

Aeryrion nodded, his expression serious. "Indeed, I did. He was a formidable opponent, but in the end, we prevailed. Jianyu and I stood side by side, victorious. The people of Yi Ti hailed us as heroes."

Rhaenys, ever the pragmatist, spoke up. "What of Vermithor? How did the dragon fare after the crash?"

Aeryrion’s eyes softened at the mention of his dragon. "Vermithor was injured, but he recovered. The people of Yi Ti were in awe of him. They had never seen a dragon so close before. Jianyu and his healers tended to him with great care."

Alicent, who had been silent, finally spoke. "It sounds like you found a second home in Yi Ti. Why did you leave?"

Aeryrion’s smile faltered for a split second before he regained his composure. "As much as I enjoyed my time there, it was time to come home."

Aemond, ever perceptive, narrowed his eyes. "What of Prince Jianyu? How did he take your departure?"

Aeryrion’s gaze flickered with a hint of sadness. "He understood. We both knew my stay was temporary. We parted on good terms, with mutual respect."

Jacaerys, who had been listening intently, chimed in. "Do you think you’ll ever return to Yi Ti?"

Aeryrion shrugged, a mysterious smile playing on his lips. "Who can say? The future is uncertain, and the world is vast. There are many places yet to explore, many secrets yet to uncover."

Viserys clapped his hands, bringing the focus back to the present. "Well, your return is a cause for celebration. We are glad to have you back. Your adventures are remarkable, but your place is here, with your family."

Aeryrion raised his goblet, his eyes sweeping over the assembled family. "To family." He toasted, his voice filled with feigned warmth. "May we always find our way back to each other, no matter where our journeys take us."

The room echoed with the clinking of goblets and the murmur of agreement. For a moment, the air was filled with a sense of unity and belonging, as if the years of separation had never existed. Yet, beneath the surface, secrets lingered—unspoken, but ever-present.

The atmosphere in the room was suddenly interrupted by the quiet arrival of a servant. He bowed deeply before addressing Aeryrion. "My Prince, there are people here claiming to be yours. They say they are your people."

Aeryrion's eyes lit up with recognition. "Let them in.” He commanded, his voice carrying an air of authority that silenced any murmurs of curiosity around the table.

Moments later, a group of men entered, each holding various wooden boxes of different sizes. They moved with a precise grace, as if well-versed in protocol, and positioned themselves before the assembled family.

Aeryrion rose from his seat, his movements fluid and commanding. "My dear family.” He began, his voice rich with excitement. "I come bearing gifts from Old Valyria."

The largest crate was opened first, revealing an exquisite, intricate model of the Valyrian Freehold. The craftsmanship was unparalleled, every detail meticulously sculpted. Aeryrion turned to Viserys, whose eyes widened in astonishment. "Father, this is for you. An exact replica of the Valyrian Freehold, far surpassing any model you've seen."

Viserys stood, his hands almost trembling as he reached for the replica. "By the gods, Aeryrion, this is magnificent! My own work pales in comparison."

Aeryrion smiled, pleased by his father's reaction. Another servant stepped forward, opening a smaller but equally ornate box. Inside was a set of jewelry made from Valyrian gold and emeralds, shimmering brilliantly in the morning light.

Aeryrion turned to his mother. "Mother, for you. A token of my appreciation for all you've done."

Alicent gasped, tears welling in her eyes. "Aeryrion, this is... it's beautiful. Thank you."

Next, a box also containing jewelry but this time made of Valyrian steel and rubies was presented to Rhaenyra. "For you, Rhaenyra.” Aeryrion said, his voice steady. "May these adornments reflect your strength and beauty."

Rhaenyra's eyes glittered with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. "I... I don't know what to say. Thank you."

Turning to Aemond, Aeryrion presented a Valyrian steel sword and an armor set, the craftsmanship evident in every detail. "I have a similar set for Daeron, to be given when he returns from Oldtown."

Aemond's eye gleamed with admiration as he accepted the sword, testing its weight and balance. "This is incredible, brother. I will wield it with honor."

The next gift was for Helaena. A servant opened a small, elegantly decorated box to reveal a collection of intricately carved insect figurines, each one a miniature masterpiece. Helaena's face lit up with delight.

"Oh, Aeryrion, these are wonderful!" She exclaimed, carefully picking up a tiny dragonfly. "The detail is extraordinary."

Aeryrion smiled, pleased with her reaction. "I knew you would appreciate them, Helaena. They are crafted by a master artisan in Yi Ti."

For Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey, Aeryrion presented a trio of Valyrian steel daggers, each one uniquely crafted to suit their personalities. "For my nephews, may these serve you well."

The boys' faces lit up with excitement as they accepted the daggers, their eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Baela and Rhaena received matching necklaces of Valyrian steel and sapphires, the deep blue stones reminiscent of the sea and sky. "To my beautiful cousins."

The girls smiled warmly as they accepted the gifts, their eyes reflecting gratitude and admiration.

Then Aeryrion presented Daemon with a Valyrian steel spear, its tip gleaming menacingly. "For you. A weapon worthy of your prowess in battle."

Daemon's eyes sparkled with appreciation as he took the spear. "A fine gift. I shall put it to good use."

For Corlys, Aeryrion presented an intricately crafted Valyrian compass and a map of the ancient trade routes. "For the master navigators.” He with a grin.

Corlys examined the compass with a nod of approval. "This is a fine gift. Thank you."

He then moved to Rhaenys, presenting her with a beautifully crafted dragon figurine made of obsidian and gold. "I bring you a symbol of our heritage, a reminder of the power and majesty of House Targaryen."

Rhaenys smiled warmly. "You have outdone yourself."

The room buzzed with excitement as each family member admired their gifts. Finally, Aeryrion turned to Aegon, who watched the proceedings with a sullen expression. "For you, my dear brother, I have saved the best for last."

Aegon’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as Aeryrion gestured for the final box to be opened. Inside was an ornate Valyrian gold goblet, encrusted with sapphires and emeralds, along with a matching decanter. The craftsmanship was unparalleled, a perfect blend of artistry and practicality.

"This goblet and decanter set is enchanted." Aeryrion explained. "It purifies any liquid poured into it, ensuring that you will only ever drink the finest wine, free of impurities or poisons."

Aegon glanced at the gift, his expression unreadable. "You always did have a flair for the dramatic, brother.” He said, his voice tinged with bitterness. "I suppose I should thank you."

Aeryrion's smile remained, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of disappointment. "You need not thank me. I only wish to share the wonders I have discovered with my family."

Aegon picked up the goblet, examining it closely before setting it down with a huff. "It's a fine gift, Aeryrion. Perhaps you should have stayed in Yi Ti with your prince."

The room fell silent, the tension palpable. Aeryrion met Aegon's gaze steadily, his voice calm. "Perhaps, but my place is here, with my family. No matter where my travels take me, I will always return."

Viserys, seemingly oblivious to the tension simmering between Aegon and Aeryrion, raised his goblet high, a broad smile spreading across his face. "A toast.” He announced, his voice booming through the hall. "To Aeryrion, my prodigal son, returned to us with gifts beyond measure and tales that will be sung for generations. May your wisdom and bravery continue to guide us."

The family raised their goblets in unison, but the undercurrent of unease was palpable. Rhaenyra's eyes narrowed slightly as she noted the shift in Viserys' favor. She had always been the apple of her father's eye, but now it seemed that Aeryrion was usurping that position.

"To Aeryrion.” They echoed, though the enthusiasm varied from person to person.

Aeryrion inclined his head graciously. "Thank you, Father. It is good to be home."

Aegon, still holding the enchanted goblet, sneered. "Father, you speak as if Aeryrion is some kind of hero. He abandoned us for a decade. Who's to say he won't disappear again?"

Aeryrion's expression remained calm, though his eyes darkened. "I did not abandon you. I sought knowledge and strength to better serve our family and our realm."

Aegon scoffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "What exactly have you brought back that makes you so indispensable? A few trinkets and tales?"

Viserys, oblivious to the rising tension, continued to smile, his gaze fixed on Aeryrion. "Aegon, your brother has brought us more than just gifts. He has brought us hope and wisdom. We should be grateful for his return."

Alicent watched the exchange nervously, her fingers fiddling with the emerald necklace Aeryrion had given her. "Aegon, please." She pleaded softly. "This is a time for celebration, not conflict."

Aemond, still admiring his new sword, glanced up at Aegon. "Brother, perhaps you should show some gratitude. Aeryrion's gifts are remarkable, and his experiences could benefit us all."

Rhaenyra, sensing the underlying currents, decided to intervene. "Aeryrion, tell us more about Yi Ti. What other wonders did you encounter there?"

Aeryrion smiled gratefully at his sister. "Yi Ti is a land of incredible beauty and mystery. Their libraries are vast, filled with scrolls and books on every subject imaginable. I learned much about their history, their magic, and their philosophies."

Daemon leaned back in his chair, his eyes glinting with interest. "What of their armies? Do they pose a threat to Westeros?"

Aeryrion shook his head. "Yi Ti's strength lies in its unity and its knowledge. They have powerful sorcerers and skilled warriors, but they are not interested in conquest. Their focus is on preserving their culture and expanding their understanding of the world."

Aegon's eyes narrowed. "So, you spent ten years learning and exploring while we dealt with the trials of the realm. How noble of you."

Aeryrion's patience was wearing thin. "I did not go to Yi Ti or anywhere else for pleasure. I went to learn, to grow, and to bring that knowledge back to benefit our family and our realm. Everything I did, I did with the intention of making us stronger."

Viserys, still unaware of the undercurrent, laughed heartily. "Aeryrion, your dedication is commendable. We are fortunate to have you back. You will be a great asset in the days to come."

Rhaenys, observing the dynamics, leaned over to Corlys and whispered. "Viserys’ favor is shifting. It will not go unnoticed."

Corlys nodded subtly. "Indeed. This could change the balance of power."

Baela and Rhaena exchanged glances, sensing the tension but unsure of how to navigate it. Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey remained silent, their eyes darting between their elders, absorbing the charged atmosphere.

Aegon, refusing to back down, set the goblet down with a thud. "If Aeryrion is so valuable, perhaps he should take on more responsibilities here. Prove that his knowledge is worth more than just stories and baubles."

Aeryrion met his brother's challenge head-on. "I would welcome the opportunity. I am ready to serve our family and our realm in any capacity required."

Viserys, still smiling, clapped his hands together. "Excellent! Then it is settled. Aeryrion, you will take on more duties, advising and assisting in matters of state. Your wisdom will be invaluable."

Aegon’s expression darkened, but he said nothing more. The room fell silent, the weight of the king's decision settling over them all. Aeryrion had returned, and with him, a shift in the delicate balance of power within the family had begun. The future was uncertain, but one thing was clear—Aeryrion's presence would change everything.

A tense silence enveloped the room, everyone waiting for Viserys to continue. Aeryrion's calm demeanor belied the storm brewing beneath the surface, while Aegon's face was a mask of barely concealed anger. Rhaenyra's gaze flickered between her father and Aeryrion, her mind racing with the implications of this sudden shift.

"Father.” Rhaenyra began, her voice carefully measured. “What responsibilities do you intend to bestow upon Aeryrion Surely, if he is to be of such great value, he must be given tasks worthy of his talents."

Viserys’ eyes gleaming with pride. "Indeed. Aeryrion's return is a boon to us all, and it is only fitting that he takes on roles that match his abilities. Firstly, he will join the Small Council as an advisor. His knowledge of foreign lands and cultures will be invaluable in our dealings with other realms."

Aeryrion inclined his head gracefully. "I am honored, Father. I will do my utmost to serve the realm."

Viserys continued, undeterred by the undercurrent of tension. "Additionally, Aeryrion will oversee the royal archives and library, both here in the Red Keep and in Dragonstone. His expertise in ancient texts and lore will ensure that our history and knowledge are preserved and expanded."

Alicent nodded in approval. "That is a wise choice. Aeryrion's intellect will serve us well in such a capacity."

Aegon couldn't contain his bitterness any longer. "So, he gets to play with books and sit in council meetings? How convenient for him. What about the real work of ruling? The burdens we have borne in his absence?"

Aeryrion's eyes flashed with irritation, but he kept his tone measured. "I am prepared to take on any task, Aegon. If you believe there are responsibilities I should share, I am more than willing."

Viserys nodded, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Aeryrion will also oversee the education of the younger generation, ensuring our traditions and knowledge are passed down. As well as being responsible for our diplomatic relations. He has a gift for languages and a deep understanding of foreign cultures. His presence will strengthen our alliances and open new avenues for cooperation."

Alicent gasped softly, her eyes wide. "Viserys, are you certain? These are great responsibilities."

Viserys turned to her, his expression firm. "I am certain, Alicent. Aeryrion has shown he is more than capable. It is time to trust in his abilities."

Aemond, always more pragmatic, spoke up. "And in matters of defense, Father? Will Aeryrion have any role there?"

Viserys nodded. "Indeed. Aeryrion will also take on the role of Master of War. His strategic mind and understanding of foreign powers will help us strengthen our defenses and plan our military campaigns."

Daemon's eyes gleamed with interest. "Master of War, you say? That's quite the responsibility. Are you prepared for it?"

Aeryrion met Daemon's gaze steadily. "I am. My travels have taught me much about strategy and combat. I will apply that knowledge to protect our realm."

Helaena, who had been quietly observing, asked softly. "What about the smallfolk? Will Aeryrion have any role in helping them?"

Viserys smiled warmly at his daughter. "Yes, Helaena. Aeryrion will also be responsible for overseeing the welfare of the smallfolk. His understanding of different cultures and economies will help us improve their lives."

Alicent's eyes shone with pride, though she couldn't help but glance at Aegon, whose expression was unreadable. "These are significant responsibilities, Aeryrion. I trust you will do us proud."

Aeryrion nodded. "I will, Mother. I will not let you down."

Aegon couldn't contain himself any longer. He shot up from his seat, his face flushed with anger. "This is outrageous! Aeryrion vanishes for a decade, letting everyone believe he was dead, and now he returns to have everything handed to him on a golden platter? What has he done to deserve this?"

Viserys looked at Aegon with a mixture of confusion and disappointment, as if seeing a child throw a tantrum. "Aegon, your brother has brought back invaluable knowledge and resources. His experiences will only strengthen our family and our kingdom."

Aegon’s voice rose, each word dripping with venom. "He's manipulating you, Father! You don't see it, but we all do. He's always been cunning, always playing his games."

Viserys sighed, dismissing Aegon's outburst with a wave of his hand. "Aegon, you are letting your jealousy cloud your judgment. Aeryrion is your brother, and he has returned to us with goodwill and purpose. You should be grateful."

Aegon’s eyes flashed with fury. "Grateful? For what? For being overshadowed by the prodigal son?"

Aeryrion stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. "Aegon, this is not a competition. We are family. I have returned to contribute, not to take away from any of you."

But Aegon was beyond reason. His hands clenched into fists, he shouted. "You’re a liar, Aeryrion! A manipulative, conniving liar! And you, Father, are too blind to see it!"

The room fell into a heavy silence, the tension almost tangible. Viserys' face hardened, his patience wearing thin. "Enough, Aegon. You will not speak of your brother in such a manner. Leave this hall if you cannot control yourself."

Aegon glared at his father, his chest heaving with rage. "I will not stand by and watch this farce any longer." With one final, seething glance at Aeryrion, he stormed out of the room, the doors slamming shut behind him.

The family exchanged uneasy glances, the tension palpable. Alicent’s eyes were filled with tears, her heart torn between her sons. "Aeryrion, perhaps it would be wise to speak with Aegon. Try to make him understand."

Aeryrion nodded, though his expression remained inscrutable. "I will, Mother. Aegon needs time to come to terms with things. I only hope he can see reason."

Rhaenyra, sensing an opportunity, leaned forward. "Father, if Aeryrion is to take on these responsibilities, perhaps he should be officially recognized in his new roles."

Viserys nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, you are right, Rhaenyra. During the feast I will announce Aeryrion’s positions. It will be a grand affair, befitting his return."

Daemon smirked, clearly entertained by the unfolding drama. "This should be interesting."

The room slowly began to relax, though the tension was still palpable. Each family member knew that Viserys had just handed Aeryrion the keys to the Seven Kingdoms, a move that could either strengthen their rule or lead to unforeseen consequences.

As the breakfast continued, the conversation shifted to lighter topics, but the underlying unease remained. Aegon's absence was a stark reminder of the brewing conflict, and everyone but Viserys could see that the king's decision had set the stage for a power struggle that would test the bonds of family and loyalty.

As the morning sun streamed through the windows, casting long shadows across the room, Aeryrion looked around the table at his family. The game had begun, and he was ready to play.

Chapter Text

𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 stood upon the high balcony of the Red Keep, gazing out at the city of King's Landing. The sun cast long shadows across the sprawling metropolis, the slanting light painting the rooftops and winding streets in shades of gold and amber. The Hand of the King’s mind, however, was far from the beauty of the view. His thoughts churned like a storm-tossed sea, anchored on the matter of succession.

His firstborn grandson, Aegon, had been a constant source of disappointment. The boy’s indulgences in carnal pleasures and wine had eroded any semblance of kingly dignity. Otto's heart clenched with frustration each time he imagined Aegon on the Iron Throne. No, Aegon could not be the future of the realm.

Otto’s gaze shifted to the sky, searching for a distant speck that might be Vermithor, the bronze-scaled dragon that had once been ridden by King Jaehaerys. Now, it was the mount of Aeryrion, Otto’s second-born grandson. The one who had vanished for a decade, leaving behind only the whisper of his legend.

Aeryrion, the prodigy, the genius, the enlightened, with his auburn curls and dark eyes marked him more as a Hightower than a Targaryen, a visual reassurance to Otto that his blood ran strong and true in this boy.

Otto’s thoughts flickered to his own life, a second son who had clawed his way to power through sheer will and intellect. Was he projecting his own unfulfilled ambitions onto Aeryrion? Perhaps. Though how could he not? This boy, no, this man, had every quality needed to rule the Seven Kingdoms.

The courtyard below bustled with activity, but Otto’s focus was inward. He knew he might be projecting his own aspirations onto Aeryrion, but he couldn’t help it. The realm would be far better served by a king who had seen the world, who had learned its secrets and its truths. Aeryrion had walked lands and sailed seas that most could only dream of, and he had returned wiser for it.

Yet, Otto was painfully aware of the greatest obstacle, Aeryrion himself did not wish to be king. The young man’s decade-long disappearance had proven that much. He had tasted freedom, adventure, and the vastness of the world beyond Westeros. The Iron Throne, with its chains of duty and politics, would likely feel like a prison to him.

The thought of Rhaenyra ascending the throne sent a shudder down Otto’s spine. Her rise would spell disaster, not just for the realm, but for his grandsons. A whore with bastards, she would bring chaos and illegitimacy to the Iron Throne. And the idea of Aegon ruling was equally unpalatable. The realm needed a king who could lead with wisdom and strength, not one who would squander his days in debauchery.

Aeryrion, oh, Aeryrion was different.

The realm would rally behind him, the perfect candidate for king. His intellect, his prowess, his bond with Vermithor, all made him the ideal ruler. Otto could see it—the banners, the songs, the history books all praising—King Aeryrion Targaryen, First of His Name. The very thought ignited a fire within Otto, a determination to see this vision become reality.

Otto’s mind raced, searching for a path forward. Aeryrion was the perfect candidate, but convincing Alicent would be no small feat. His daughter’s heart was fiercely protective of Aeryrion, and she would not easily agree to a plan that might drive him away again. Alicent’s love for her favorite son was a formidable barrier.

The Hand of the King turned from the balcony, his footsteps echoing down the stone corridor. He needed a strategy, a way to make Alicent see the necessity of his vision. Perhaps he could appeal to her sense of duty, her understanding of the greater good, or maybe he could find a way to make the prospect of kingship more palatable to Aeryrion himself, to show him that he could be the king the realm desperately needed without losing himself in the process.

As Otto moved through the labyrinthine halls of the Red Keep, the weight of his task settled heavily upon his shoulders. The future of the realm hung in the balance, and he would be damned if he let it fall into unworthy hands. He was determined to see Aeryrion ascend the Iron Throne. The Hand of the King had made his choice, and he would see it through, no matter the cost.

Though Otto wasn’t the only one imagining what was to come. For Rhaenyra paced the length of her chambers, the weight of her unborn child pressing heavily on her back. The room was dimly lit, the flickering light of the hearth casting long shadows across the walls adorned with tapestries depicting dragons and battles of old. The air was thick with the scent of burning wood and the faint aroma of lavender, meant to calm her nerves, though it did little to ease her turmoil.

Her mind spun with the implications of Aeryrion’s return. As a child, he had been a quiet, introspective boy, always tucked away in the library with a book in hand. She remembered his intense gaze—Alicent’s gaze—the way he would lose himself in ancient tomes and scrolls, his hunger for knowledge insatiable. The nobles and common folk alike had sung his praises, marveling at his brilliance. Aeryrion, the boy whose intellect outshone the very sun.

Rhaenyra's hand absently rested on her belly as she paused at the window, staring out at the bustling courtyard below. Her father's attention had shifted so abruptly upon Aeryrion's return that it had left her reeling. She had always been her father's favorite, his chosen heir, but now Aeryrion's shadow loomed large over her.

She had watched with a clenched jaw as her father bestowed upon Aeryrion titles and responsibilities that made her head spin, each one was a blow, a reminder that her position was under threat.

Her father wasted no time in cementing Aeryrion’s position. A seat on the small council, keeper of the royal archives, overseer of education, head of diplomatic relations, master of war, welfare of the smallfolk—positions of immense power and influence, all given to him upon his return. And now, a grand celebration feast loomed on the horizon, a feast so lavish it would put all others to shame.

The preparations were grandiose, the anticipation palpable. It was clear to her that Aeryrion was not just a the prodigal son returned—he was being groomed for something far greater.

Daemon watched her with a mixture of concern and frustration. He leaned against the his seat, arms crossed, his silver hair catching the firelight. His eyes followed her movements, understanding the tempest brewing within her. 

The silent tension in the room was broken by Daemon's voice, a low murmur that carried a hint of amusement. "You should sit. Pacing won't solve anything."

Rhaenyra turned to him, her eyes flashing with a mixture of frustration and determination. "And what would you have me do, Daemon? Sit idly by while Aeryrion claims everything that should be mine?"

Daemon rose from his seat, crossing the room with a languid grace, his fingers trailing along a table cluttered with scrolls and maps. "Aeryrion is a threat, no doubt. But threats can be managed. You are still the heir, and you have allies who will stand by your side."

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "Allies? Even those who once supported me are now enchanted by his tales of adventure and wisdom. They see him as the savior of the realm, the perfect ruler."

Daemon reached her and placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch both reassuring and possessive. "Aeryrion may have the favor of the court for now, but he has been gone for a decade. He does not understand the intricacies of court politics, the alliances and enmities that have formed in his absence. We can use that to our advantage."

Rhaenyra met his gaze, the fire in her eyes undimmed. "What of my father? He practically worships Aeryrion. How do I compete with that?"

Daemon's lips curled into a sly smile. "Your father is a weak man. He may be enamored with Aeryrion's intellect and achievements, but he values peace and stability above all. Remind him of the chaos that could ensue if the line of succession is questioned. Show him that you are not just his daughter, but the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms."

Rhaenyra nodded slowly, her resolve hardening. She would not be sidelined, not by Aeryrion or anyone else. The Iron Throne was her birthright, and she would fight for it with every ounce of strength she possessed. The game of thrones was a deadly one, but she was a dragon, and dragons were not easily defeated.

As she resumed her pacing, a plan began to take shape in her mind. Daemon watched her with a knowing smile, his own thoughts aligning with hers. Together, they would navigate the treacherous waters ahead, and ensure that Rhaenyra's claim to the throne remained unchallenged.

All while the court buzzed with speculation about the future in light of Aeryrion’s return, the man himself was lounging in the lush gardens of the Red Keep. The air was fragrant with the scent of blooming flowers, the sound of trickling fountains providing a serene backdrop to the scene. Aeryrion reclined on a plush divan, his silk robe draped carelessly over his toned torso, revealing the sculpted lines of his chest and abdomen. The warmth of the late afternoon sun danced on his auburn curls, which fell in waves to his waist,

Around him gathered several highborn ladies, each one more enchanted than the last. Their laughter bubbled like a stream, punctuated by gasps of delight and appreciative murmurs. Aeryrion's voice, smooth and melodic, wove a tapestry of tales from his adventures across the known and unknown world.

Aeryrion's voice, smooth and melodic, wove a tapestry of his adventures. "In the far reaches of Yi Ti, I encountered a city of jade, its streets paved with the precious stone, where the air was thick with the scent of exotic spices and the songs of nightingales with feathers like spun gold.” He recounted, his hand brushing against the arm of the nearest lady, sending a shiver up her spine.

The ladies leaned in closer, their eyes wide with wonder and thinly-veiled desire. He continued, his words a seductive dance, "In the shadow of the Bone Mountains, I discovered a hidden valley where the rivers ran with quicksilver and the trees bore fruits of ruby and sapphire. The people there, untouched by time, taught me the secrets of the stars and the whispers of the wind."

One of the ladies, her cheeks flushed with excitement, asked breathlessly. "And what of the women in those lands, my prince? Were they as enchanting as the tales you tell?"

Aeryrion's smile was slow and knowing, his gaze moving languidly from one lady to the next. "Enchanting, yes, but none as captivating as the company I find myself in now…” He replied, his tone a caress. He leaned forward, his fingers lightly tracing the delicate line of the lady's jaw. "Their beauty was but a pale reflection of what I see before me."

The lady's breath hitched, and a murmur of approval rippled through the group. Aeryrion's touch was electric, his presence magnetic. He shifted slightly, the movement causing his robe to part further, revealing the chiseled lines of his abdomen. The ladies' gazes were drawn to his exposed skin, their desire palpable.

"Tell us more, my prince.” Another lady urged, her voice trembling with anticipation. "What other wonders have you seen?"

Aeryrion's eyes sparkled with amusement as he continued, "In the deserts of Essos, I rode with the Dothraki and learned their fierce ways. I stood atop the pyramids of Meereen and gazed upon the great harbors where ships from every corner of the world converge. In the ruins of Ghis, I uncovered tablets inscribed with the lost language of the Old Empire, secrets that have been buried for millennia."

As he spoke, he allowed his fingers to brush against a lock of hair here, a bare shoulder there, each touch deliberate and charged with intent. The ladies were entranced, their breaths coming quicker, their cheeks flushed with more than just the heat of the day.

"And what of your heart, my prince?" One of the ladies asked, her voice a husky whisper. "Did you leave it behind in any of those far-off lands?"

Aeryrion's smile turned wicked, his eyes darkening with a predatory glint. "My heart, belongs to the mysteries of the world, to the pursuit of knowledge and the thrill of discovery. But…” He added, his voice dropping to a sensual murmur. “It is here, in this moment, that I find myself truly captivated."

He reached out, his hand cupping the lady's cheek, his thumb brushing against her lips. The air between them seemed to crackle with tension, the other ladies watching with bated breath. Aeryrion's touch was a promise, his words a spellbinding enchantment.

The lady leaned into his touch, her eyes half-closed with longing. "My prince.” She breathed, her voice trembling with need.

Aeryrion's smile widened, his fingers slipping down to trace the curve of her neck. "Yes, my dear?" He asked, his tone teasing, knowing.

"Take us with you.” She whispered, her words a plea. "Show us the wonders you have seen."

Aeryrion chuckled softly, his laughter like velvet. "In time.” He promised, his voice a seductive purr. "For now, let us create our own wonders, here in this garden, under the watchful eyes of the gods."

The ladies sighed as one, their desire for him a palpable force. Aeryrion had them ensnared, their minds and their bodies hungering for him.

Aeryrion was more than willing to feast on the ladies' desires right there in the garden, each touch and whisper drawing them closer to the edge of propriety. His fingers grazed a delicate collarbone, eliciting a gasp, while his other hand brushed against a silken sleeve, the fabric slipping under his touch like water. He could feel their breaths quickening, their bodies leaning into him with barely restrained hunger. He reveled in their adoration, his own pleasure mounting as their desire became palpable.

Just as he was about to lean in and claim a kiss from the lady nearest him, the spell was broken by the sound of footsteps crunching on the gravel path. Aeryrion looked up, his eyes narrowing as he saw Aemond approaching, his younger brother’s expression a mix of judgement and disapproval. Aemond's single eye, as sharp and cold as steel, locked onto Aeryrion with a piercing intensity.

Aeryrion’s smile turned sly, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Ah, little brother.” He drawled. “Come to join the festivities? You are just in time.”

Aemond’s jaw tightened, his eye flicking over the scene before him. “Aeryrion, what are you doing?” He asked, his voice hard. “These are noble ladies, not your playthings.”

Aeryrion chuckled, the sound low and provocative. “So? What if they wish to be my playthings?” He countered, his fingers trailing down the lady’s arm, eliciting a shiver. “Who am I to deny them their desires?”

Aemond’s gaze hardened, his fists clenching at his sides. “You behave like a common whore.”

Aeryrion threw his head back and laughed, the movement causing his robe to slip further, exposing more of his chiseled torso. The ladies' eyes widened, and even Aemond’s gaze flickered, betraying a moment of helpless fascination.

"Perhaps.” Aeryrion said, his laughter dying down to a playful chuckle. "But I can see you’re intrigued, brother. Maybe you’re the one who needs to be fucked instead of that stick up your arse. By the time I’m done, you’d be the one begging for more, not me."

Aemond's cheeks flushed with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. He took a step forward, his fists clenched at his sides. "You’re disgusting."

Aeryrion’s grin grew wicked. "Oh, Aemond, let me give you a demonstration.” He said, his voice a low purr. He turned to one of the ladies, his hand slipping around her waist to pull her close. "Shall we show my dear brother how it’s done?"

The lady, cheeks flushed with excitement, nodded eagerly. Aemond's eye widened, a mixture of horror and unwilling fascination playing across his features. Aeryrion’s lips met the lady’s in a passionate kiss, his hand trailing down her back, eliciting a soft moan. The other ladies watched, their breaths quickening, their eyes dark with desire.

Aemond’s face twisted in a grimace, but he didn’t move. He was rooted to the spot, unable to tear his gaze away from the scene unfolding before him. Aeryrion’s hand slipped beneath the lady’s gown, his touch making her shiver with anticipation.

"You see, Aemond.” Aeryrion murmured against her lips, his eyes locked on his brother’s. "This is what you’re missing.“

Aemond’s hands trembled, his face a mask of barely contained rage and something else—perhaps envy. With a final, furious glare, he turned on his heel and stormed away, his footsteps echoing through the garden.

Aeryrion’s laughter followed him, rich and mocking. "Run along, little brother.” He called after him. "I’ll save you a spot in my bed when you’re ready to admit what you truly crave."

The lady in his arms turned his face back to hers, her eyes pleading. "Please, my prince.” She whispered, her voice thick with desire. "Take me with you."

Aeryrion’s smile softened slightly, his hand cupping her cheek. "Of course, my dear.” He murmured, his voice a silken promise. "Come with me, all of you."

He rose from the bench, his robe hanging loosely from his shoulders, and led the seven ladies through the winding paths of the garden, their laughter and excited whispers following them. They reached his chambers, a place hidden away from prying eyes.

Aeryrion turned to face the ladies, his gaze intense, his smile predatory. "Now.” He said, his voice low and commanding. "Let us create our own wonders."

Chapter Text

𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐍 did not appreciate being ambushed by his own father. Viserys, his face flushed with excitement, burst into Aeryrion’s chambers without a second thought. The several naked high-born noble ladies sprawled across his bed, remnants of a hedonistic night, barely registered in Viserys's mind. He tore open Aeryrion’s closet, yanking out a silk robe and tossing it at him with a huff of impatience.

"Aeryrion, get dressed. Quickly now!" Viserys commanded, his voice a mixture of authority and eagerness. "We have much to discuss."

Aeryrion, his auburn curls a cascading mess, blinked groggily. He fumbled with the robe, his movements sluggish from the remnants of sleep and the previous night’s indulgences.

"Father, what is so urgent that it cannot wait until a more respectable hour?" Aeryrion grumbled, his voice smooth yet laced with irritation.

Viserys did not respond immediately. Instead, he grabbed Aeryrion by the arm and half-dragged, half-led him out of the room. They walked briskly through the stone corridors of the Red Keep, Aeryrion's bare feet slapping against the cold floor, until they arrived at Viserys's chambers. A lavish breakfast spread awaited them, set up right next to a detailed model of Old Valyria that Aeryrion had gifted for his father.

"Sit.” Viserys ordered, practically shoving Aeryrion into a chair. "I want to hear all about your time in Old Valyria. Every detail."

Aeryrion sighed, rubbing his temples. He was barely awake, his mind still foggy. He reached for a piece of bread, his hand trembling slightly. "Father, this is hardly the time..."

"Nonsense!" Viserys interrupted, his eyes gleaming with a childlike glee. "I’ve been waiting for this moment! Tell me everything. I want to hear it all."

Aeryrion took a deep breath, his irritation momentarily giving way to a cold, calculating demeanor. He knew his father would not relent. "Old Valyria is not the place of wonder you imagine, Father.” He began, his voice steady and detached. "The ruins still burn with an unearthly fire, a reminder of the cataclysm that befell it. The bones of dragons litter the landscape, their once-mighty forms reduced to mere skeletons, bleached by time and flame."

Viserys leaned forward, his eyes wide. "Tell me more. The knowledge you sought?"

Aeryrion's expression darkened. "There are no people, only damned souls. They wander the ruins, claiming any living being as their own. They speak in whispers, offering knowledge at a price. A heavy price."

Viserys frowned, his excitement dimming slightly. "What price?"

Aeryrion averted his gaze, his jaw tightening. "That is not something I wish to discuss, Father. Suffice it to say, the knowledge I gained was immense, but it came at a great personal cost."

Viserys reached out, placing a hand on Aeryrion's arm. "You are my son, Aeryrion. Whatever you faced, you do not face it alone."

Aeryrion's eyes flickered with a mixture of pride and bitterness. "I appreciate your sentiment, Father, but some burdens are mine to bear alone."

Viserys sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Very well. But know that you have my support, always."

Aeryrion nodded. "Thank you, Father. Now, if you don't mind, I would like to eat my breakfast before it grows cold."

Viserys chuckled, the tension in the room easing. "Of course, of course. Eat, my son. And when you are ready, we will discuss your experiences further. There is much we can learn from your journey."

Aeryrion picked up a piece of fruit, his mind already drifting back to the horrors of Old Valyria. The damned souls, the burning ruins, the knowledge that gnawed at his sanity. He would share what he could, but some secrets were best left buried in the ashes of the past.

As they ate in silence, Viserys's mind raced with possibilities. His son had returned from a place few dared to tread, bringing with him knowledge that could change their world. And while Aeryrion's journey had clearly taken a toll, Viserys knew that House Targaryen’s legacy was stronger for it. In time, he would uncover all that Aeryrion had learned, and together, they would shape the future of their house.

For now, though, he would let his son eat in peace. There would be time enough for questions later.

As they ate, Aeryrion took a bite of his egg and grimaced. "This food is horribly bland.” He declared bluntly, his eyes narrowing in distaste.

Viserys paused mid-bite, his joyous expression faltering. "This is the best food that the Seven Kingdoms have to offer.” He said, his tone edged with defensiveness.

Aeryrion set his fork down, letting out a weary sigh. "Father, I've traveled across the known and unknown world. I've tasted dishes that would make a man weep with joy and drank elixirs that could revive the dead. From the spices from the markets of Yi Ti, the delicacies of Asshai, and wines that would make the Arbor's finest vintages taste like vinegar. This—" He gestured to the spread before them. “—is a pale imitation of what true culinary art is."

Viserys chuckled, though there was a hint of unease in his eyes. "I hope you won't be dissatisfied with the food at your homecoming celebration. Alicent and I have put much effort into organizing it."

Aeryrion groaned, the sound low and rumbling, as if the very thought of the celebration pained him. He slumped back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling as though seeking divine intervention.

"I had almost forgotten about that.” He muttered. A part of him wished he had stayed away from Westeros and let everyone continue to believe he was dead, though he kept that thought to himself. As he had a feeling if his mother and father found out Aeryrion will be under lock and key.

Viserys's face lit up again, seemingly oblivious to his son's dismay. "Oh, it's going to be grand, Aeryrion. A seven-day-long celebration! We've invited lords and ladies from all over the realm. There will be feasts, tournaments, musicians, and dancers. The finest wines will flow, and the skies will be alight with fireworks."

Aeryrion glanced toward the balcony, calculating the height and wondering if a fall from there would be preferable to enduring the ordeal his father described. "That sounds... extensive.” He said, his voice flat.

"Extensive? It's magnificent!" Viserys insisted, leaning forward, his giddiness almost palpable. "You deserve nothing less after all you've accomplished. The people need to see their prince, the Conqueror of Old Valyria, the Prodigy of House Targaryen."

Aeryrion's lips twitched into a sardonic smile. "Conqueror? Hardly. Old Valyria was a graveyard, haunted by its own past. There was nothing to conquer but memories and ashes."

Viserys's enthusiasm did not wane. "Still, your return is a cause for celebration. We must show our strength, our unity. The realm needs hope, and you, my son, are the embodiment of it."

Aeryrion bit back a retort, knowing it would be futile. His father’s mind was set, and nothing he said would dissuade him. "Very well, Father. I will attend this… celebration.” He conceded, though the words tasted bitter on his tongue.

Viserys beamed, clapping his hands together. "Excellent! Now, tell me more about your travels. What wonders did you see? What knowledge did you gain?"

Aeryrion took a deep breath, steeling himself. "There were many wonders, Father, but also many horrors. The lands beyond our maps are not for the faint of heart. I encountered beasts that defy description and magics that twist the very fabric of reality."

Viserys's eyes widened, his curiosity piqued. "Tell me of these magics. What did you learn?"

Aeryrion hesitated, the memories of the dark rituals and the price he paid flickering through his mind. "I learned much, but not all knowledge is meant to be shared. There are secrets that would shatter the minds of those unprepared to receive them."

Viserys frowned, but he nodded in understanding. "I see. Well, share what you can, when you are ready. I will not press you further."

Aeryrion nodded, grateful for the small mercy. "Thank you, Father."

Viserys leaned back in his chair, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Aeryrion, how do you feel about the responsibilities I've given you?“

Though Aeryrion kept his expression neutral. In truth, he had no desire for these burdens. He longed for solitude, to lose himself in the library where no one could disturb him. Yet he knew better than to voice his true feelings. Instead, he forced a smile, his dark eyes gleaming with feigned enthusiasm.

"I am honored, Father.” He said smoothly. "I look forward to serving the realm in any way I can."

Viserys's expression brightened further. "Excellent! I knew you would be the perfect fit for these roles. Your intellect and experience are unparalleled. Tell me, what ideas do you have for these duties?"

Aeryrion's mind raced, a thousand thoughts colliding. He had no real plans, no aspirations for these positions, but he could not afford to disappoint his father. Drawing on his quick wit and creativity, he began to speak, weaving a tapestry of revolutionary concepts that came to him on the spot.

If he was going to lie, he might as well make it grand. "Indeed, I do have some ideas.” He began, his tone thoughtful. "For education, I propose a system unlike any other. We could establish academies in every major city, where children of all backgrounds can learn. Not just the noble-born, but commoners as well. Imagine a realm where knowledge is accessible to all, where every mind is honed and every talent nurtured.  Imagine a realm where knowledge is accessible to all, where innovation is encouraged. A generation of scholars, engineers, and thinkers, all trained from a young age."

Viserys's eyes widened with amazement. "That is revolutionary, Aeryrion! How would it benefit the realm in the long term?"

Aeryrion leaned forward, warming to his fabricated vision. "With a more educated populace, we would see innovations in every field—medicine, engineering, agriculture. Our armies would be strategists, not just soldiers. Diplomacy would be conducted with greater understanding and finesse. The realm would prosper like never before."

Viserys looked at his son in awe, his adoration palpable. "You are truly a gift to this house, Aeryrion. Your ideas are nothing short of genius. I am more confident than ever that you will lead us into a new golden age."

Aeryrion's smile tightened. The urge to strike his father across the face and disappear into obscurity was nearly overwhelming. The praise felt like poison, each word a reminder of the trap he was stepping into. Yet he held it in check, masking his frustration with a veneer of enthusiasm, knowing that any sign of reluctance would only lead to more questions.

"Thank you, Father. Your faith in me means everything.” He said, the lie tasting bitter on his tongue.

Viserys reached across the table and grasped Aeryrion's hand. "Together, we will make House Targaryen stronger than ever. I have always believed in you, my son. You are destined for greatness."

Aeryrion squeezed his father's hand, his dark brown eyes meeting Viserys’. "I will do whatever it takes to fulfill that destiny.” He promised, even as a part of him recoiled at the thought.

As they finished their breakfast, Viserys continued to speak of plans and dreams, his excitement never waning. Aeryrion listened, nodding and agreeing when appropriate, all the while his mind drifted to the sanctuary of the library, longing for the solitude and quiet it offered.

By the time they rose from the table, Viserys was practically glowing with pride and anticipation. "Tomorrow will be a momentous day, Aeryrion. The realm will see the future of House Targaryen, and they will rejoice."

Aeryrion forced another smile, the strain of maintaining the facade beginning to wear on him. "I look forward to it, Father.”

He would play the role expected of him, for now. Yet in the quiet corners of his mind, he was already plotting his escape, devising ways to reclaim the freedom he so desperately wanted back. The prodigal son had returned, but for how long, only time would tell.

As Aeryrion left Viserys’s chambers, his mind churned with the weight of his father’s expectations. He was barely paying attention to where he was walking when he saw his grandsire, Otto Hightower, striding down the corridor ahead.

“Aeryrion!” Otto called, his voice echoing through the stone halls. “I need to speak with you.”

Aeryrion’s eyes narrowed. The last thing he wanted was to be cornered by his grandfather. Without a second thought, he turned on his heel and headed the other way, his bare feet slapping against the cold floor. Otto's voice grew more insistent, but the young prince quickened his pace, his heart pounding. The thought of another conversation, more responsibilities, more expectations, was unbearable. He needed to escape.

“Aeryrion, stop!” Otto’s voice was laced with frustration as he tried to keep up, but age and the heavy robes of his station slowed him. Aeryrion’s strides became longer, more desperate. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing Otto struggle to match his speed.

In a moment of impulsive desperation, Aeryrion veered toward a nearby balcony. Without hesitation, he vaulted over the railing, plummeting into the garden below. He landed with a thud in a rose bush, the thorns scratching at his skin, but the impact was softened by the foliage.

Groaning, he extricated himself from the bush, dusting off his silk robe and wincing at the few scratches that marred his flawless skin. He straightened, only to find himself staring at his mother, Alicent, and his sister, Helaena, who were having tea in the garden.

Helaena looked serene, her eyes distant as she murmured something unintelligible. Alicent, however, leapt to her feet, her face a mask of horror and concern.

“Aeryrion! What in the Seven Hells were you thinking?” She shrieked, rushing over to him. “You could have broken your neck!”

Aeryrion raised his hands in a placating gesture, trying to ward off her frantic energy. “Mother, I’m fine. It was just a little fall.”

But Alicent was not to be calmed. She fussed over him, inspecting every inch of his skin for injuries, her hands trembling. “You’re scratched! And your robe is torn! What possessed you to do such a thing?”

Helaena, still seated, muttered cryptically, “The dragon flies high, but falls to the earth to escape the storm.”

Aeryrion shot his sister a quizzical look but had no time to ponder her words as Alicent continued her tirade. “You are not some reckless boy! You are a prince! You must act with decorum and dignity.”

He sighed, feeling the weight of his mother’s expectations pressing down on him just as heavily as his father’s. “Mother, please, it’s been a taxing morning. I just needed to... clear my head.”

Alicent’s eyes softened slightly, but her worry did not abate. “Then you shall join us for tea. A moment of calm will do you good.”

"I really need to—" Aeryrion tried again, but Alicent was already dragging him to the table.

"Sit.” She commanded, pushing him into a chair with surprising strength. "You need to rest after that stunt."

Aeryrion sat down reluctantly, feeling trapped. Helaena poured him a cup of tea, her movements slow and deliberate. She handed it to him without a word, her eyes still distant.

Alicent resumed her seat, her hands trembling slightly as she picked up her own cup. "You’ve been away for so long, Aeryrion. We’ve missed you."

"I’ve missed you too, Mother." Aeryrion said, taking a sip of the tea. It was too sweet, the taste cloying on his tongue.

"You as well, Helaena.” He added, glancing at his sister.

Helaena smiled faintly, her eyes finally focusing on him. "The shadows cling to you, brother. Be wary of their embrace."

Aeryrion suppressed a groan. "I’ll keep that in mind.” He said, his voice strained.

Alicent looked between her children, her eyes softening. "We’re a family, Aeryrion. No matter what happens, we must stick together."

"Of course, Mother.” Aeryrion replied, the words hollow in his mouth.

As the morning dragged on, Alicent chattered about the upcoming celebrations, her excitement palpable. Helaena occasionally interjected with her comments. Aeryrion nodded and smiled at the appropriate moments, his mind elsewhere.

As he sat there, sipping his too-sweet tea and listening to Alicent’s prattle, Aeryrion blamed his shitty morning on Viserys.

Chapter Text

𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐑𝐀𝐍 a hand through his disheveled curls, eyes narrowing as he surveyed the dimly lit library. Shelves of ancient tomes loomed over him, offering the only solace he found within the Red Keep.

The weight of the morning settled heavily on him. His father, insisted on waking him at an ungodly hour to discuss the history of Old Valyria. He had barely managed to escape his grandsire, who ambushed him with an attempt at a heart-to-heart, prompting Aeryrion to fling himself dramatically off a balcony. His landing in the rose bushes had been anything but graceful, and to make matters worse, his mother, and his younger sister, were in the garden having their morning tea. His mother’s fretting and the overly sweet tea she forced upon him had done little to improve his mood.

The creak of the library door pulled him from his thoughts. His eyes flickered to the entrance, where Rhaenyra and Daemon, stood. Their presence was a palpable force, the air thickening with unspoken questions and veiled suspicions.

"Aeryrion.” Rhaenyra began, her tone carefully neutral. “We need to talk."

Aeryrion's lips twisted into a smirk, his gaze drifting back to the book in his hand. "Do we, sister? Or are you here to interrogate me like everyone else?"

Daemon's eyes narrowed, a hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword. "You've been gone for ten years. We have questions."

Aeryrion sighed, snapping the book shut with a resounding thud. "Of course you do. Everyone wants to know where my loyalties lie, what secrets I brought back from Old Valyria." He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Well, let me save you the trouble. My loyalties lie with myself, as they always have."

Rhaenyra's eyes softened, a hint of desperation in her voice. "We are your family. We need to know we can trust you."

"Trust?" Aeryrion's laugh was sharp, echoing through the library. "In this family? Trust is a commodity we all squandered long ago."

Daemon took a step forward, his grip tightening on his sword. "Watch your tongue, boy. You forget who you're speaking to."

Aeryrion's eyes flickered with amusement, a dark glint in the depths. "Oh, I remember perfectly. How could I forget? Lord Flea Bottom and the Whore of Dragonstone.” He was not in the mood to play nice especially after his shitty morning.

Before Daemon could react, shadows began to ripple around Aeryrion, their forms shifting and coalescing. Their golden eyes glowed from the darkness, a silent warning. Daemon unsheathed his sword, but it was wrenched from his grip by an unseen force, clattering to the floor.

Rhaenyra gasped, her hand instinctively moving to her belly. While Daemon's face twisted with rage and frustration. "You dare use this... witchcraft against us?"

"It's not witchcraft.” Aeryrion corrected, his tone almost bored.

Rhaenyra's eyes were wide, a mix of fear and curiosity. "What did you do in Old Valyria, Aeryrion? What did you find?"

Aeryrion's gaze turned distant, memories flickering behind his eyes. "The usual knowledge, secrets long buried, and more." He looked back at them, his expression hardening. "Yet those are my secrets to keep."

Rhaenyra took a tentative step forward, her voice with a feigned gentleness. "We are not your enemies, Aeryrion. We just want to understand."

Aeryrion studied her for a long moment, the tension in the room thickening. Finally, he sighed, the shadows retreating slightly. "Understanding is a luxury we cannot afford. This family is built on lies and ambition. Trust is a fool's errand."

Daemon retrieved his fallen sword, his eyes never leaving Aeryrion. "You may have that creature on your side, but remember this, power is fleeting."

Aeryrion's smile was enigmatic, his eyes glinting with a dangerous light. "It is only fleeting to those who do not know how to wield it."

Rhaenyra placed a hand on Daemon's arm, her gaze still fixed on Aeryrion. "We will talk again, brother. This is not over."

Aeryrion watched them leave, the door closing behind them with a soft click. The shadows around him whispered, their golden eyes flickering. He leaned back in his chair, a sigh escaping his lips. The library was his sanctuary, but even here, the ghosts of his past and the demands of his family could find him.

The moment the library doors creaked open once again, Aeryrion swore he couldn't catch a break. His brother, Aemond, strode in, his single eye burning with a judgmental gleam. The atmosphere shifted, charged with a new kind of tension.

"Aeryrion.” Aemond began, his tone dripping with mockery. "What else besides your supposed intelligence makes you so special? To me, you’re no better than Aegon, whores with a crown."

Aeryrion's eyebrows arched, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Ah, Aemond. Always so quick to judge. Jealousy doesn’t suit you, baby brother."

Aemond's gaze darkened, his lips curling into a sneer. "Jealous? Of you? Hardly. I just don't understand why no one else sees how similar you and Aegon are. Mother's favorite, Father's potential favorite... What are you, really?"

Aeryrion chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. "Careful, Aemond. Your envy is showing. Perhaps it's not my fault that people find me more... compelling."

Aemond took a step closer, his voice rising. "Compelling? You mean manipulative. You're nothing but a snake."

Aeryrion leaned back against a bookshelf, his eyes glittering with mischief. "Oh? Then what does that make you, Aemond? A one-eyed viper?"

The insult hit its mark. Aemond's hand twitched towards his sword, but he remained still, his eye blazing with anger. "You think you're so clever, don't you? But all I see is a man whoring himself for power."

Aeryrion's laughter echoed through the library, a rich, mocking sound. "Whoring myself? Is that what you think? Perhaps you need to take out your... frustrations elsewhere."

Aemond's jaw clenched, his fists tightening. "You disgust me."

Aeryrion's expression turned predatory, and he pushed off the bookshelf, closing the distance between them. His voice dropped to a sultry whisper. "Disgust, or desire? It's so hard to tell with you."

Aemond's breath hitched, but he held his ground. "Stay away from me."

Aeryrion's hand trailed up Aemond's chest, his touch light and teasing. "Or what? You'll lash out like a wounded animal? Come now, brother. We both know you're not immune to our family's... proclivities."

Aemond's eye widened, his resolve wavering as Aeryrion pressed closer, their bodies almost touching. "This is madness!” He hissed, but there was a tremor in his voice.

"Madness?" Aeryrion purred, his lips brushing against Aemond's ear. "Or simply desire you've been too afraid to admit?"

Aemond's breath came in short, sharp gasps, his eye darting around the room as if seeking an escape. "You... You need to stop."

Aeryrion's hand slid to the back of Aemond's neck, fingers tangling in the hair there. "Why? Are you afraid of what you might feel?"

The tension between them was palpable, a crackling energy that neither could deny. Aemond's eye closed, his body trembling under Aeryrion's touch.

"I hate you.” He whispered, but the words lacked conviction.

Aeryrion's smile was wicked, his voice a husky murmur. "They say hate and desire are two sides of the same coin, brother. Why fight what we both know is inevitable?"

Aemond's resolve shattered, and he grabbed Aeryrion's wrist, yanking him closer. Their faces were inches apart, breaths mingling. "You think you can control me?"

Aeryrion's grin was triumphant, his other hand slipping around Aemond's waist. "Control you? Definitely and I can make you feel things you've never felt before."

Aemond's eye held a mixture of defiance and something darker, more desperate. "You're playing with fire, Aeryrion."

Aeryrion's lips brushed against Aemond's cheek, a feather-light touch that sent shivers down his spine. "And you, baby brother, are the flame that cannot resist being kindled."

Aemond's grip tightened, his body taut with tension. "Damn you.” He muttered, but his voice was hoarse, betraying his inner turmoil.

His laughter was soft, triumphant. "Damnation is a small price to pay for this, don't you think?"

Aeryrion's lips were mere breaths away from Aemond's when he suddenly pulled back, his eyes flickering with a new intensity. The shadows that had been lurking at the edges of the room surged forward, their forms twisting and writhing like serpents. Their golden eyes blazed, casting an eerie glow that bathed the library in an otherworldly light.

"What is this?" Aemond demanded, his voice laced with frustration. "What are you doing?"

Aeryrion's expression hardened, all traces of the previous intimacy gone. "You need to leave, Aemond. Now."

Aemond's protest was immediate. "I'm not going anywhere! Not until you explain yourself."

The shadows grew thicker, their shapes more defined, as if they were pressing against the very fabric of reality.

"Leave.” Aeryrion commanded, his voice cold and distant. "You need to go, now."

Aemond's protest died on his lips as the shadows swirled more aggressively, their forms growing more distinct and menacing. "Aeryrion, what is this? What are you doing?"

"Just go!" Aeryrion growled, shoving Aemond towards the door. "You don't belong here."

Aemond stumbled backward, his gaze fixed on the terrifying scene unfolding before him. "You're mad! This is madness!"

"Out!" With a final push, Aeryrion forced Aemond out of the library, slamming the door shut and locking it. The sound of the lock clicking into place echoed like a death knell.

The room was suddenly alive with movement, the shadows coiling and twisting around him like serpents. The air grew heavy, oppressive, as the souls of Old Valyria came alive. Their voices filled the room, a cacophony of screams and whispers.

"Umbās! Kessa ao gevie se pono ūndegon se zaldrīzes ēngos! Drōmon se mērī sir!

“Fool! You must stop playing and follow your destiny! Bring the doom of Westeros!”

Aeryrion clenched his fists, his body trembling with a mixture of rage and fear. "Nyke daor ūndegon ao! Nyke issa daor se lightbringer!”

“I will not obey you! I am not the Lightbringer!”

The shadows surged forward, their voices rising in a deafening chorus. "Ao jāhor rhaenagon īlva hēnkirī, Aeryrion Targaryen! Ao jāhor pryjagon se vys!

“You will pay your debt to us, Aeryrion Targaryen! You will set the world alight!”

Aeryrion's scream tore through the air, raw and filled with defiance. "Nyke ūndegon daor! Nyke gīmigon nykeā iā daor!”

“I will not! I know my fate!”

The shadows wrapped around him, their touch cold and suffocating. The room seemed to spin, the walls closing in as the souls of Old Valyria continued their relentless assault.

"Jemot daor drōm! Ao sagon īlva!

“You cannot escape! You are ours!”

"Hen rhūnar issa nykeā ānogar, naejot tegun hen ōños, naejot set se vys."

“Pay your debt to us as the Lightbringer, to set the world alight in flames."

Aeryrion's vision blurred, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He fell to his knees, the weight of the shadows pressing down on him.

The souls' screams reached a fever pitch, their words a relentless hammering in his mind. "Umbās! Kessa ao gevie!

“Fool! You must follow!”

The shadows tightened their grip, their voices a constant, unyielding presence. "Drōmon se mērī sir! Drōmon se vys!”

“Bring the doom now! Set the world alight!”

Aeryrion's scream resonated with every fiber of his being, a final act of defiance against the overwhelming force. "Nyke daor jorrāelagon iā iā drēje!"

“I do not want this destiny!"

The shadows recoiled, their forms dissipating slightly as his scream echoed through the library. The room fell into an eerie silence, the oppressive weight lifting just enough for Aeryrion to catch his breath. He collapsed onto the cold stone floor, his body shaking from the encounter.

The souls of Old Valyria retreated to the corners of the room, their golden eyes still watching, still waiting. Aeryrion knew they were not gone, merely biding their time. He had won this battle, but the war was far from over.

As he lay there, gasping for breath, Aeryrion's mind raced with the implications of the night's events. The shadows had spoken of destiny, of doom, and of debts yet to be paid. He couldn't ignore their words, nor could he deny the power they wielded over him. But for now, he had bought himself a moment of reprieve, a brief respite from the nightmares that haunted his every step.

In the silence of the library was deafening, Aeryrion felt the weight of his choices pressing down on him.

Chapter Text

𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒.

The morning sun had barely begun to cast its golden fingers through the heavy curtains of his chambers when a horde of servants flooded the room, their shuffling footsteps and hushed whispers pulling him from the sanctuary of sleep. His mother, led the charge, her hands shaking him awake with an urgency that bordered on unkindness.

"Darling! Wake up!" She chirped, her voice like a lark's song piercing through the fog of his sleep.

"Mother, must you?" He huffed, his voice heavy with sleep.

"Today is important.” She replied, her tone softening slightly as she beheld her son. 

Aeryrion groaned, his auburn curls tangled from restless dreams. He was practically shoved into the steaming bath, the water scalding his skin in a way that jolted him fully awake. The servants worked swiftly, their hands efficient and impersonal as they scrubbed every inch of him. He could feel the callouses on their fingers, the roughness a stark contrast to the silkiness of the soap they used.

“Mother, the sun has barely risen.” He muttered, his voice dripping with annoyance. 

“Today is the first day of celebrations for your return. You must look your best.” Alicent replied with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. 

The words were barely out of her mouth when he was yanked from the bath and enveloped in a flurry of towels. The servants worked with practiced precision, drying him off before thrusting him into the center of the room where an elaborate outfit awaited.

“Beautiful.” Alicent cooed, fussing over him as the servants began to dress him.

The garments were intricate and rather stuffy, a testament to the court's obsession with appearances. A long tunic of pristine white silk, embroidered with delicate patterns of bronze thread, paired with a doublet of the same colors, adorned with tiny buttons shaped like dragon heads, bearing a likeness to Vermithor. The trousers were equally elaborate, tapering down to polished leather boots that gleamed in the morning light.

"A bit much, don't you think?" Aeryrion remarked, raising an eyebrow as he eyed the ensemble.

"Nonsense." Alicent cooed, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face. "You must look the part."

As they dressed him, another pair of servants approached with combs and ribbons, ready to tame his auburn curls. Aeryrion barely had time to brace himself before his mother let out a screech that echoed through the chamber.

"What in the Seven Hells is this?" She demanded, her voice a mixture of shock and fury. Her eyes were locked onto his ears, now exposed by the parted hair. They were adorned with a myriad of piercings, small hoops of gold and silver, delicate chains linking some of them together, and a large dragon cuff that curled around his entire ear.

"I acquired them during my travels.” Aeryrion said nonchalantly, as if discussing the weather.

"Do you have any idea how this affects our image? Your image? The court will talk!" She fussed.

"And yet—“ He replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “—no one said a word when I paraded around the Red Keep in nothing but a silk robe. Or when I entertained several noble ladies in the garden and then my chambers."

"Aeryrion!" Alicent's face turned crimson. "You must think of the family, the throne. Appearances are everything."

"Appearances?” He echoed, his dark brown eyes, which sometimes looked like molten gold in the light, locked onto hers. "I've been walking the line between propriety and scandal since I returned, and yet here we are, still standing."

His mother sighed, her anger giving way to a mixture of exasperation and affection. "You are my beloved child, Aeryrion, but you test my patience."

He stepped closer, his presence commanding despite the early hour. "Mother, I am who I am. The realm will see me as I choose to present myself. That is where true power lies."

Alicent's eyes softened, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. "You are too clever for your own good, my son."

"And you wouldn't have me any other way.” He replied with a charming grin, bending to kiss her on the cheek.

The servants, sensing the tension had passed, resumed their work with renewed vigor. As they styled his hair, Aeryrion's mind wandered to the day ahead. The first day of celebrations for his return. He would play the part, as he always did, but on his terms.

As the final touches were made, he stood before the mirror, taking in his reflection. The garments, the piercings, the calculated defiance in his eyes.

This was Aeryrion Targaryen, a man of many faces, each one a masterpiece of his own making.

"Ready, my prince.” A servant said, stepping back to admire their work.

"Quite.” Aeryrion replied, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Let the games begin."

And with that, he strode out of his chambers, every inch the prince he was born to be, yet so much more than anyone could ever imagine.

As Aeryrion waited outside the great hall, his mind a whirl of thoughts as the muffled sound of his father's voice drifted through the heavy wooden doors. The great hall was filled to the brim with nobles, their anticipation palpable even through the thick stone walls. Viserys's voice, though distant, carried the weight of authority and grandeur.

"Today, we celebrate the return of my son, from the cursed lands of Old Valyria.” The king began, his voice echoing in the vast chamber. "Prince Aeryrion, who many believed to be lost to us forever, has defied the odds and returned. He has ventured into the heart of our ancestral home, a place of legend and dread, and emerged victorious."

Aeryrion rolled his eyes, his annoyance barely concealed. He could almost see the exaggerated gestures his father must be making, the dramatic pauses designed to elicit gasps of awe and admiration from the gathered lords and ladies.

"He is the Conqueror of Old Valyria!" Viserys proclaimed, his voice swelling with pride. "The Master of Lore, who has uncovered secrets long thought lost to the sands of time. The Seeker of Knowledge, whose intellect and curiosity know no bounds. The Prodigal Son, returned to us when we needed him most. He is the Prince That Was Lost, now found and standing among us once more."

The titles were grandiose, bordering on the ridiculous. Yet, he knew his father meant well, even if he did have a flair for the dramatic that Aeryrion found tiresome.

Finally, the speech drew to a close, and the great doors swung open with a heavy creak. The guards stepped forward, their armor clinking as they announced. "His Royal Highness, Prince Aeryrion of House Targaryen!"

Aeryrion took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders as he stepped into the hall. The eyes of every noble present tracked his every move, their gazes a mix of curiosity, admiration, and, in some cases, thinly veiled envy. He moved with the grace and confidence of a man who was fully aware of his own worth, his intricate white and bronze garments catching the light and shimmering with every step.

As he approached the Iron Throne, he knelt with a practiced elegance. King Viserys beamed down at him, his eyes filled with pride. Another speech commenced, though Aeryrion barely listened, his mind drifting as his father extolled his virtues and achievements once more.

"Aeryrion, my son, you have shown courage beyond measure.” Viserys declared. "You have faced the perils of Old Valyria, a place that has claimed many a brave soul, and you have returned to us, not only unscathed but triumphant. Your knowledge and wisdom will guide our house to new heights."

When it was finally his turn to speak, Aeryrion rose to his feet, his expression composed. "Father, your words honor me.” He began, his voice carrying effortlessly through the hall. "I have indeed seen many wonders and faced many dangers in my travels. But it is good to be home, among family and friends. Together, we shall forge a future that will be remembered for generations."

The gathered nobles erupted into applause, their approval a tangible wave that washed over him. As the formalities concluded, Aeryrion found himself swarmed by a sea of richly dressed lords and ladies, each eager to bask in the reflected glory of his return.

"Prince Aeryrion, your journey must have been extraordinary.” A plump lord with a jewelled doublet exclaimed, his eyes wide with curiosity.

"Indeed, it was.” Aeryrion replied smoothly, his smile polite but distant. "Old Valyria holds many secrets, some of which are best left undisturbed."

A lady with a cascade of dark curls and a dress of emerald green stepped forward, her eyes glinting with interest. "And did you find any treasures, my prince?"

Aeryrion met her gaze, a hint of mischief in his own. "Treasures, my lady, come in many forms. Knowledge itself is the greatest treasure of all."

The lady blushed, her fan fluttering nervously as she giggled. "You are too wise for your years, Prince Aeryrion."

"One must be, to survive such adventures.” He replied, his tone light but his eyes sharp, assessing each person who approached him. "It takes more than cursed ruins to best a dragon."

As the crowd around him grew, Aeryrion navigated the conversations with the same strategic precision that had served him in his travels. He charmed, he listened, he deflected probing questions with ease. Each interaction was a move in a larger game, one he intended to win.

"Prince Aeryrion.” A young nobleman stammered, his eyes wide with awe. “What was the most dangerous thing you encountered?"

Aeryrion paused, his gaze distant for a moment as he recalled the horrors of Old Valyria. "There were many dangers.” He said softly. “Though the true peril lies in the unknown. In the things that lurk in the shadows, waiting for the unwary."

The nobleman shivered, clearly satisfied with the cryptic answer, and moved on. The great hall, with all its pomp and ceremony, was just another battlefield.

While Aeryrion was swarmed by nobles, Aegon watched from a distance, his fingers wrapped tightly around the stem of a wine goblet. He took a deep, bitter sip, the rich red liquid doing little to quench the fire of resentment blazing within him. Gods, he would give anything for the realm to see Aeryrion as he did: not as the golden prodigy returned from Old Valyria, but as the selfish cunt whose loyalties lay solely with himself.

Aegon leaned against a marble pillar, his knuckles whitening as he tightened his grip on the goblet. "Look at him.”

He muttered to Aemond, who stood beside him. "Parading around like he's some kind of savior. He's no better than the rest of us, just a man, despite what they say about House Targaryen being closer to gods."

Aemond's one good eye flicked to Aegon briefly, but his attention was mostly on Aeryrion, who was charming a group of lords and ladies with effortless ease. "And yet, he has them all eating out of his hand.” Aemond replied, his tone neutral.

Aegon scoffed, downing the rest of his wine in one gulp. "He’s not some divine being. He’s just... Aeryrion. He is self-serving, arrogant, and completely indifferent to anyone but himself."

Aemond didn't respond, his gaze still fixed on Aeryrion. The way the nobles flocked to him, the effortless grace with which he handled their questions and flattery—it was something Aemond found both infuriating and captivating. He had no interest in the animosity between his older brothers, but the secrets Aeryrion might hold, now those were worth his attention. What secrets did he hide? What knowledge had he brought back from Old Valyria? And then, beneath the curiosity, there was something else—a flicker of desire that Aemond is trying to push away.

"You're not even listening to me!” Aegon snapped, his frustration boiling over. "You're just as bad as the rest of them, staring at him like he's some kind of prize."

Aemond finally tore his gaze away from Aeryrion, his expression unreadable. "Perhaps I am.” He said simply. "But at least I can admit it. You, on the other hand, seem content to seethe in your jealousy."

Aegon bristled, his hand tightening around the empty goblet. "Jealousy? Of him? Never. I just see him for what he truly is."

"And what is that, exactly?" Aemond asked, arching an eyebrow.

"A man.” Aegon spat. "Not a god, not a prodigy. Just a man, flawed and fallible."

As they spoke, Aeryrion continued his circuit of the hall, moving through the crowd with a practiced ease that spoke of years of navigating courtly politics. He accepted compliments with a charming smile, deflected probing questions with witty retorts, and all the while, his mind was a whirl of calculations and strategies.

"Prince Aeryrion, what was the most fascinating thing you discovered in Old Valyria?" A young lady with a cascade of pearls in her hair asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.

Aeryrion paused, a thoughtful look crossing his features. "There were many wonders.” He said, his voice smooth and melodic. "But the most fascinating was a library, buried deep within the ruins. Tomes and scrolls filled with knowledge long forgotten. It was like stepping into another world."

The lady gasped, her hand fluttering to her chest. "How extraordinary! Do you plan to share these discoveries with the court?"

"In due time.” Aeryrion replied, his smile enigmatic. "Some knowledge is too dangerous to be shared lightly."

As he moved on, he caught sight of Aegon and Aemond standing by the pillar. Aegon's expression was a storm of barely contained resentment, while Aemond's gaze was inscrutable, but intense. Aeryrion inclined his head slightly, a gesture of acknowledgment that could be interpreted in many ways.

"Ah, my dear brothers.” He said, approaching them with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Enjoying the festivities?"

"Immensely.” Aegon replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Your adoring sycophants do seem to be having a splendid time."

Aeryrion chuckled, the sound low and amused. "Jealousy doesn't suit you, Aegon. And as for you, Aemond…” He turned to his younger brother. “What secrets are you hoping to pry from me tonight?"

Aemond's lips curved into a small, knowing smile. "Perhaps I'm just enjoying the show."

"Well, enjoy it while you can.” Aeryrion said, his tone light but his eyes sharp. "There are many more acts to come."

He left them standing there, his presence a whirlwind that left a wake of tension and unresolved emotions. Aegon watched him go, his jaw clenched so tight it ached. "One day, the realm will see him as I do.” He muttered.

"Perhaps.” Aemond replied, his gaze following Aeryrion. "But until then, we play our parts."

Across the hall, Aeryrion continued to charm the nobles. He glanced over at Aegon, their eyes meeting for a brief moment. Aeryrion’s smile didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of something in his gaze—recognition, perhaps, or amusement.

Aegon's blood boiled. He turned back to the lady, his expression dark. "You see that look? That’s the look of a man who knows he’s untouchable. Who knows he can do whatever he pleases, and people will still worship him."

“Aeryrion’s achievements—“

"Achievements?" Aegon interrupted, his voice rising. "What achievements? Surviving Old Valyria? Any fool with more luck than sense could have done the same. But oh, because he’s Aeryrion, it’s a miracle, it’s legendary."

It was only the morning of the first day of festivities, and Aemond knew Aegon would more than likely cause a scene before it was over. His prediction proved accurate as Aegon stumbled towards the steps of the Iron Throne, goblet in hand.

“To my dear brother, Aeryrion!” Aegon called out, his voice slurred but loud enough to capture the attention of everyone in the hall. “It’s as if he never left us in favor of his travels!” His tone was mocking, dripping with sarcasm, much to the horror of their parents.

Aeryrion, ever the master of manipulation, laughed warmly. “Thank you, brother.” He said, his voice smooth and untroubled. He moved closer and enveloped Aegon in a hug, whispering threats into his ear. “Careful, Aegon. You’re making a fool of yourself.”

Aegon’s face twisted with rage, but Aeryrion moved to kiss his cheek mockingly, making it appear as a brotherly gesture. “You cunt.” Aegon hissed, his voice barely audible.

Aeryrion’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “Smile, brother.” He whispered. “Everyone’s watching.”

Unable to restrain himself, Aegon tried to strike Aeryrion, but Aeryrion’s reflexes were quicker. He grabbed Aegon’s hand, turning the movement into a semblance of a brotherly embrace.

“Shall we dance?” He asked loudly, not waiting for an answer as he led Aegon to the center of the hall.

The musicians struck up a lively tune, and Aeryrion led the dance with a fluid grace. The dance was fast-paced, a whirlwind of steps and spins. Aeryrion’s movements were precise, his footwork impeccable, while Aegon struggled to keep up, his movements growing more erratic as the wine churned in his stomach.

“Stop this, Aeryrion.” Aegon gasped, his face pale. “I’m going to be sick.”

Aeryrion pretended not to hear him, his smile never faltering. “Isn’t this fun?” He called over the music and clapping, his voice carrying a note of cruel amusement.

Aegon struggled to keep up, his body sluggish from the wine. "Stop.” He muttered, but Aeryrion pretended not to hear him. They spun and twirled across the floor, Aeryrion's steps precise and graceful, while Aegon stumbled, the world tilting around him.

The dance was a blur of movement and noise. Aeryrion's auburn curls, shimmering with hints of gold and bronze, flew around him like a fiery halo. His dark eyes, intense and calculating, never left Aegon's face. The music grew louder, the clapping more vigorous, drowning out Aegon's pleas.

"Please.” Aegon gasped, his stomach churning. 

But Aeryrion only smiled, his grip on Aegon tightening as they whirled faster. The room spun, the faces of the nobles blurring into a dizzying kaleidoscope. Aegon felt the bile rising in his throat, his body rebelling against the relentless pace.

Finally, as the music reached its crescendo and the dance ended, Aegon couldn’t hold back any longer. He doubled over and vomited, the contents of his stomach splattering onto the nearest person—Daemon.

"Seven Hells.” Daemon cursed, stepping back in disgust.

The hall fell silent, gasps of horror and disgust echoing off the stone walls. Aegon, his face contorted with fury and humiliation, pointed a shaking finger at Aeryrion. "He did this on purpose!"

Aeryrion feigned cluelessness, his eyes wide with innocent surprise. “Brother, what are you talking about? You’ve had too much to drink.”

Before Aegon could retaliate, Alicent stepped forward, her face a mask of composed concern. “Guards, escort Prince Aegon to his chambers. He is in need of rest.”

The guards moved swiftly, taking Aegon’s arms and gently but firmly leading him away. Aegon struggled briefly, his eyes blazing with anger, but the strength of the guards and the weight of his own exhaustion subdued him.

As the doors closed behind Aegon, Aeryrion turned back to the gathered nobles, his expression one of regretful sorrow. “Forgive my brother.” He said softly. “The excitement of the festivities has been too much for him.”

The nobles nodded, their expressions varying from sympathy to disdain. Aeryrion’s charm had worked once more, turning a potential scandal into a moment of familial bonds.

Then Aeryrion turned to his parents, his expression one of contrite concern. "I hope Aegon recovers soon.” He said, his voice soft and sincere.

Viserys nodded, though his eyes were troubled. "Yes, let us hope so."

Aeryrion could feel Aemond's gaze on him, the intensity of it burning into his back. He turned, meeting his younger brother’s single eye. There was a challenge there, a silent promise of future confrontations.