18A/N: The canon divergence is the very beginning of season 7 of the TV show. However I have read the books and will incorporate some of the ideas from them, but not all. Everything in the show plays out the same, until season 7.
Changes made from Canon (Books and TV):
- fAegon doesn't exist
- Daenerys and Viserys live with Illyrio from when shes 7 until she marries Khal Drogo as opposed to just a few months.
This chapter is a prologue. It introduces my OC and a bit of his history.
This is my first fanfic so please comment!
Prologue
A Difficult Choice
Above him was a dark canopy dotted by millions of burning stars. The night skies. They reminded him of the view from his balcony; of the night fires the red priests would scatter throughout the city. Around him, the gardens were quiet. The only sounds were that of the gentle breeze weaving its way through the many leaves of the surrounding cherry trees. "What do you think they are?" came a soft voice to his left. Despite the time of night, two small figures, both silver haired and no more than nine, lay with their backs to the lush grass and eyes to the stars.
"I'm not sure," he responded quietly. His arms were crossed behind his head. "Some say they're the souls of the departed looking down at us."
"Souls? Really?" she asked curiously. "My family might be up there somewhere?" Aerion's gaze was drawn from the sky to his companion. She lay within an arm's length. He could see the hope in her violet eyes. "I can't remember them." Her words were barely a whisper.
Aerion subconsciously touched the heirloom that hung around his neck. It was made of the rippled, black-gray patterns of Valyrian Steel. The pendant that decorated it was in the shape of a three-headed dragon. He could not remember his family either. According to Illyrio, the necklace was the only thing of hers that remained. His mother. He was under strict orders never to let Viserys see the necklace. He did not know why, but he didn't argue. He kept it tucked away under his tunic always.
He knew he was born in Lys along side his sister. His mother survived the birth but not the sickness that took her months later. His father remained unknown to him. Some said he was a pirate or an exiled Westerosi lord. They knew as much as Aerion did.
Since infancy, his sister and he called Magister Illyrio's vast manse home. They were well provided for and for that he was grateful. He wasn't a fool however. He may be young, but a man like Illyrio Mopatis does not achieve wealth such as his by giving something and not asking for something in return. "Maybe… Maybe my mother is up there too." He finally responded, not really believing his words, but knowing she would appreciate them all the same.
"Aerion." she said. "Don't lie to me." Her face had lost its hopeful gleam, replaced by her meek expression. His heart wretched at the sight – it always did. "What do you really think they are?" she repeated.
"My teachers say they're massive balls of fire." He responded truthfully.
"They don't look very big," she said with light sarcasm in her voice.
"I'm told they're very far away Princess." He replied in kind. Their whispered laughter pieced the quiet. Being so young, they were expected to be asleep or at least, in their chambers. But these stolen moments under the stars were the only times Aerion and Dany could be themselves, out from under the critical eyes of Illyrio, the servants, the guards and especially Viserys. The older Targaryen was utterly possessive of Dany, and he was not overly fond of Aerion nor his twin.
"Will Rhae be joining us?" Dany asked leaning up on her elbow. Her was hair practically glowed in the starlight. Rhaena usually accompanied the pair when they snuck into the gardens at night.
Aerion shook his head. "She's not feeling well."
"Oh, I hope she feels better."
He smiled at her concern. "I'll tell her." In all things that mattered, Dany was the opposite of her brother. She was calm and caring and Viserys was cruel and quick to anger. Aerion often wondered how two siblings could be so different. Aerion and Rhae had their differences – he was better at languages and his temper burned slightly hotter, where as Rhae was much more intelligent, and more stubborn. But still cared for one another. Rhae was the only family he had left. Without her he'd be alone.
"Oh Look!" Dany's sudden grip on his arm broke him out of his thoughts. "You missed it! I saw one!"
"A shooting star?" he asked. She nodded eagerly. "What did you wish for?"
"I can't tell you." she said, scandalized. "Then it won't come true."
"Who told you that?" he laughed.
"One of the servants."
"Does the Prince know you've been talking with the servants." At the mention of Viserys the mood grew dark.
She looked him in the eyes and frowned. "No, and my brother doesn't need to know." Her voice was sharp. It was rare and never in front of Viserys, but there were times when the dragon princess would show her claws.
"You know I won't tell him." He joked. She carefully giggled with him and the brief tension was forgotten. Aerion was up there with the Usurper in Viserys' not so humble opinion. According to the beggar prince, Aerion's hair wasn't quite the right shade of silver and his eyes, not the right type of purple. The feeling was mutual.
The pair returned their attentions to the stars. He would often fantasize about dueling Viserys. Truly dueling, with real steel. Aerion knew he would win. Despite their age and size difference, Viserys was a poor swordsman. But one doesn't simply duel a prince.
After several moments Dany broke the silence with a quite whisper. "I think I'll have to marry him."
Aerion's heart dropped and the quiet that permeated the garden grew deafening. "Wha – what makes you say that?" he responded carefully, swallowing hard.
"He's always talking about keeping the line 'pure,' and our parents were brother and sister." Dany shrugged, almost accepting her fate. "I don't want to though."
Aerion didn't know what to say, so he said nothing. The thought of Dany marrying her brother, Valyrian blood or not, made his skin crawl. He was young, but marriage wasn't unknown to him. Sometimes he dreamed of marrying Dany himself. The empty gardens quickly grew unnerving, the warmth of the cherry trees was replaced by images of the older, larger prince.
"Marry me then" he asked on impulse, only half joking. They were both far to young for such things, but the idea pleased him just the same.
"Marry you?" she laughed, baffled by the suggestion.
"I am yours," he started the vow, fighting the urge to chuckle, each word sounding more and more ridiculous.
"And you are mine." To his surprise she continued, albeit in jest.
"From this day, until the end of my days." They recited in unison before breaking out into a fit of poorly concealed giggles.
Once their laughed died down they fell into a comfortable silence. Only the sway of the trees and twinkle of the stars kept them company. Aerion was so lost in his thoughts that he quickly lost track of time. He yawned and stretched his arms. We should probably get back, he thought.
Suddenly, a decidedly un-princess like snore came from the prone figure laying by his side. Stifling a laugh with his hand he quietly got up and moved to her side. "Princess?" he asked, gently nudging her shoulder. "Dany."
"Mmm," came a grumbled reply. He smiled then nudged her again.
"Come on, you can't sleep out here."
Her eyes fluttered open. His lilac eyes met her violet ones. "Why not?"
"Its not safe," he said trying to talk some sense into the sleep addled princess.
"You'll protect me, Husband," she mumbled sarcastically, turning to her back to him and closing her eyes once more. He nudged her again, she ignored him. He checked to make sure they were still alone then he knelt and attempted to hoist her on her feet. "What are you doing!" she hissed.
"Getting you to bed Princess." His plan worked, Dany stood on her feet glaring at him. "Come on." She unenthusiastically took his offered hand. He led her out of the garden, avoiding the guards with practiced ease. He escorted the princess through the tiled courtyard and carpeted hallways, back to her chambers. "Goodnight Princess," he whispered once they had reached the door to her room.
"I'll see you tomorrow?" she asked, her eyes not leaving his as she slowly pushed the heavy door open.
He nodded, "I promise."
She gave him a small smile. "Goodnight." He watched as her silver hair and small form disappeared beyond the threshold.
Quickly but quietly he weaved his way though the white marbled corridors and back to his chambers. He suspected the guards and by extension, Magister Illyrio, knew of their night time activities. Fortunately, they neglected to mention it to Viserys.
Reaching his door, he slowly pushed it open, not wanting the sound of the metal hinges to alert anyone. His chambers were large and had a distinctly "dragon" motif. Across from the door, tall doors decorated with Myrish glass opened to a balcony that overlook the city and the Narrow Sea beyond. To his right was a large bed covered with ornate Braavosi linens. Illyrio's wealth was vast and he went to great lengths to show it off. Opposite the bed, sat a large desk, barren except for a few scrolls and half melted candles.
He walked over to his bed and began to relieve himself of his grey tunic. He paused when he noticed a small piece of parchment placed carefully on one of his pillows. He frowned, picked it up and began to read.
I'm sorry, I cannot marry him. Don't follow me.
The words confused him. Marry him, he thought. At first his thoughts turned towards the princess and their previous conversation. Had she left this? No, he was with her all night. He recognized the delicate scrawl. Rhae. His eyes widened at the realisation and his palms began to sweat. The letter was from his sister. Marry who? Who could his sister mean. They were far to young to be thinking of marriage. It would be years before she was a woman grown.
A gaunt, pale, cruel face twisted in his mind. He nearly fell to his knees. No, not him. Viserys. There was no one else she could've meant. His sister was to marry the beggar prince. Suddenly the letter began to feel heavy. He let it fall to the ground. What was she apologizing for?
Without thinking, he rushed out of his chambers, down the hallway to his sisters. He needed to see her. Not caring to knock, he barged in. No. The room was empty. Her things remained. Her desk was still piled high with numerous tomes. The bed was made, the candles were still lit, but she wasn't there. No, should wouldn't.
Don't follow me. The words struck harder than any blow he had received while sparring.
She would. His stubborn, foolish, headstrong sister would. His heart threatened to beat out of his chest. Aerion went to her jewelry box. His hands were shaking as he opened the lid. No. Their mother's ring was missing – Rhae's most praised possession. She was truly gone. He sprinted out of her room and back to his. Don't follow me. The words echoed through his head. All thoughts of sleep forgotten, he began to dress.
Dressed in a pair of his favourite brown leather boots, a dull training sword slung across his back with a thick black travelling cloak pulled over his head, concealing his signature silver hair, he took one last look at his chambers. The only home he has ever known. He paused as another thought slipped into his mind. Dany. He cursed. He would be leaving the princess. He promised her. The princess or his sister. He cursed again. The gods were cruel indeed.
Stealing himself he made his choice. If he was quick, he would find Rhae and bring her home before anyone noticed their absence. She would never marry Viserys. They would figure something out together. They always did.
From the years spent wandering the manse he knew all the ins and outs and he knew Rhae knew them as well. The only way to slip out unnoticed was the unguarded gate hidden in the gardens. That was his destination. His final thought as he slipped out of the manse into the city below was that he hoped the princess would forgive him. He might not be back tomorrow.
The Magister's Wife
"And this one?" she asked softy, ever the seductress as her finger followed a faint scar that cut through his brow.
"Funny story that," he responded. Aerion lay on his back, eyes closed and completely naked save his Valyrian Steel necklace. Draped across him, equally naked, was a woman, lithe and beautiful. Her hair smelled of cherry that reminded him of happier times, of nights spent under the stars. "Small disagreement," he explained. "Drunken fool thought I dishonored his daughter." The two were entangled in her lavish bedding. It was well past dawn, but both were content to remain abed.
"And did you? Dishonour her?" she asked, amused.
"I never found out," he paused. "He didn't explain who his daughter was or what she looked like. Cut me with his glass before I realised he was even speaking to me." He chuckled softly.
Her hands travelled lower to his torso. "What about this one?" she asked, her fingers now tracing the three pink parallel lines on his ribcage. "This doesn't look like it came from any weapon I've ever seen."
"Tiger – near Qohor."
"Qohor? You must be the most interesting man I've ever met, my Lord." Slowly, he opened one eyelid. Golden hair filled his vision. She'd said his title in jest. Technically he was a lord, though he owned no land and governed no people, but a lord nonetheless. Lord Aerion Blackfyre, he mused. Though he'd never claim to be such out loud. People have died for less. It was a secret he discovered during his time with The Golden Company. At the time he just wanted to fight, he was broken and Rhaena's trail had gone cold. The commander must've known. He had all but sworn allegiance to Aerion before he could stop him.
Aerion raised an eyebrow. "Met many men, have you?" His question was answered by a playful blow to his side.
"None like you, so many adventures. I haven't even gotten to half your scars." She whispered in his ear seductively as her soft fingers continued their agonizingly slow crawl down his stomach.
With a groan he reluctantly grabbed her wrist, preventing her ministrations. "We should get up." He began to untangle himself.
His companion looked at him with pleading eyes; pools of turquoise, sprinkled with gold. "If you're worried about my walking corpse of a husband –" she began, before Aerion placed a finger on her lips, silencing her.
"I'm not, but I didn't come here for this," he said, gesturing at their condition. He almost regretted his words when he saw the hurt in her eyes. Aerion had come to Lys for information, information Magister Aronar was rumored to possess. He hadn't come with the intention of bedding the magisters lovely wife. The man had invited Aerion into his manse. He considered it bad-mannered to bed the wife of a man who offered you room and board. In his defence, he genuinely thought that she was a serving girl.
Despite his hospitality, the old, vile magister had refused to call Aerion by his name, instead preferring to refer to him as dragonspawn. Aerion thought the insult strange. There was no way the magister was aware of his true identity but was almost as if Magister Aronar had personal dislike of him. More than half of Lys boasted Valyrian blood – Aronar's own wife among them. Said wife had practically thrown herself at him. The city's reputation had been well earned.
He stepped off the bed onto the cool marble floor. His clothes were decarded haphazardly, a testament to last nights activities. Aelora, he quickly reminded himself of her name as he bent down to retrieve his silk tunic.
"You came for your sister," she said flatly, still sitting naked on the large bed, she cradled her knees in her arms. His clothes were immediately forgotten. He turned to look at her.
"How did you –" He almost yelled, worry lacing his voice. It was nearly nine years to the day since he last saw her. Rhae. His twin, his other half, his best friend. The only family he had left. I'm sorry, I cannot marry him. Don't follow me. Nine words. He could scarcely remember her face. "What do you know?" he asked Aelora, barely regaining control of his emotions. Nine words, a word for every year he spent searching.
That night, years ago, when he decided to leave Illyrio's manse haunted his dreams. He doomed the princess. He chose Rhae over Dany. He Left her alone with her cruel brother. Then he spent the next near decade alone, without either. Hearing that his princess was sold of to a Dothraki Khal nearly broke him. He couldn't imagine the meek, kind girl that made wishes under the stars, with a savage Dothraki warlord. He hated Viserys more than ever.
"She was here. Months ago." she answered, "she was at my wedding." Her eyes now firmly avoiding his. Months? He was getting closer.
"You're just telling me this now?" She flinched. The words came out harsher than he intended. "I'm sorry." Aerion sat back down of the bed and squeezed her hand, their nakedness forgotten. "Please." It was his turn to plead. "Tell me everything."
Aelora took a deep breath before answering. "She showed up a few days before I was to be wed. She looked wary, thin, dirty and hungry." Aerion clenched his jaw and unoccupied fist. "I don't know how, but she convinced my husband to take her in. The lecher," She scoffed. "He probably thought she'd share his bed in gratitude." He glared at her. "Sorry. She didn't you know – share his bed." Aerion shook his head not even wanting to consider the possibility. Rhae was nine last her saw her. "Once she was bathed, fed and rested she looked like a completely different person. She was beautiful." Is that jealously, he mused. For some reason he found the idea that this gorgeous woman would be jealous of Rhae amusing.
"How do you know this woman was my sister?"
"She looked like you," she started.
"Half this city looks like me," he interrupted, desperate for her to get to the point.
"If only," she mumbled. "She had your eyes, and your nose." To emphasise her point, she poked him on the latter, giggling softly. "and this." She lightly touched his necklace. The three-headed dragon brushed against her palm. "She had the same sigil on her ring." Aerion swallowed hard. That confirmed it. Gifts from their mother. The only thing they had left of their family. Rhae was here only months ago. He smiled.
"What did she call herself. Her name?"
"Rhaenys, like Aegon the Conquers' wife." His smile grew, and tears threatened to form. His sister always loved the tales of Aegon and his sister-wives.
"Rhaenys." He repeated. Aelora nodded. "Did she say where she was going?"
Aelora shook her head. "No, she mostly kept to herself. Completely ignored by my dear husband – much to his ire." His heart sank, and he lowered his head in defeat. She could've gone anywhere. "She spent most of her time in the library," Aerion looked up. Aelora was fidgeting with her hands. Her eyes, distant and unfocused, she was clearly trying to remember something. "Asked me once if my husband had any books about the Freehold." The Freehold? Aerion could no longer hear Aelora's gentle voice, his palms began to sweat. He remembered their childhood and his stubborn, hellishly intelligent, headstrong sister. She would.
"My Lord? Aerion?" He was brought back to reality by a soft pat on the shoulder. "What did I say? You look like you've seen a ghost." I might as well have.
Stuffing the foreboding thoughts away, Aerion looked at his companion. He suddenly realised that the two were still as naked as their namedays. He looked her up and down. "You're remarkable," he told her, causing her to blush. He truly meant it. Aelora was both parts beautiful and clever. The magister doesn't deserve her, he thought reaching up and shoving her back down into the sheets receiving a startled laugh. His sister had survived nine years without him; she could wait another hour or two. Aerion gasped at Aelora's skilled hands. Or three.
Aelora had begged and pleaded that he take her with him. "Anywhere but here," she would tell him, but the path Aerion was on was far too dangerous. His destination, if his instincts were right, even more so. Instead Aerion left her a bit of gold – a reward for the information – and the promise of his return. A promise Aerion doubted he could keep. She wasn't the first women to ask and would probably not be the last.
His tussle with the Magister's wife had occurred a fortnight ago. Now Aerion found him self aboard a trading vessel, bound for Tolos, a small city on the western edge of Slaver's Bay. The Bay of Dragons he corrected himself. As he gazed at the eastern horizon his thoughts turned to Dany. Daenerys, the Mother of Dragons. He almost didn't believe it when word reached him of the Targaryen princess and her three dragons. A Queen now if the rumors were to be believed. A sad smile crossed he face. She may be a queen now, but she would always be his princess. At least in his dreams. He made his decision long ago. If his sister was truly headed the Doom, Tolos was a likely destination as any. He had never been this close to her since that final night in Pentos. I wonder if she'd even recognise me? He pondered. Would I recognise her?
Often, usually late at night, Aerion would think back to that decision. His sister or his princess. He would wonder what would have happened had he chose otherwise. But she was the last Targaryen, the Mother of Dragons now. Aerion was just Aerion, the lost boy who wandered after his lost sister and a Blackfyre apparently. Targaryens never got along with Blackfyres.
The gentle rocking of the ship and the smell of the sea were his constant companions. Aerion was no stranger to the hardships of travel. Ever since his sister disappeared Aerion had been hot on her heels. Nine years. When he left he was just a boy, and she has just a girl. She was his sister. Tears of happiness welled in his eyes. I'm coming Rhae. He knew, in his heart, that she was still alive. He would see her again. Finally.
The End of All Things
Once upon a time, he might have considered his surroundings beautiful, but not today. Eternal fire. That's what burned around him, fueled by magic. The ground was so hot that in some places it flowed like water. Smoke permeated the air to such an extent it was impossible to see more than an arms length from his face. But by some miracle he had found her. His search had lead him here. Here of all places. Standing amongst salt and smoke.
In Tolos, he thought better of attempting to book passage to this inhospitable peninsula. No sailor in their right mind would agree to sail the Smoking Sea, and if they had, Aerion wouldn't have trust them. He was left with only one option; to continue on foot. He knew in his heart that his sister was alive and that he was heading in the right direction. If she could make it, he could make it.
The journey through the Lands of Long Summer was treacherous, dangerous and utterly devoid of anything resembling civilization, but somehow, against all odds, he made it. Perhaps the gods where finally on his side.
They were not.
The smell of brimstone and sulphur was thick in the air. He had found her. Rhae. Surrounded by an inferno. The Doom. The lands of their ancestors. Hell. But he was too late, the Rhaena he knew was gone. A single tear rolled down his cheek before immediately turning to vapour in the heat. Gone was his sweet, stubborn, fiercely independent sister. What stood in front of him was a shell. A beautiful shell, a shell that looked just like her, but a shell non-the-less.
You must. It's the only way. A formless voice drifted though his head.
Their clothes had long since burned away. But their skin remained unharmed. Fire cannot burn a dragon, the voice repeated. Aerion didn't notice their nakedness – naked except his necklace, and her ring. He had long since discarded his swords in an effort to calm her.
"Aerion," she whispered, somehow loud enough to be heard over the surrounding inferno. "Please." She held up a dagger, offering it to him. "Please." The blade was Valyrian Steel, not surprising considering their location, and beautiful. In any other situation, he would have gladly accepted such a gift. But it was not the dagger itself that stilled his hand. It was what she was asking him to do with it. Anything but that. The shell that was once his twin, his other half, his only family, was asking him to plunge the dagger into her heart. To kill her. Perhaps she had truly succumbed to the madness that so often plagued the blood of Valyria.
It's the only way, the voice repeated. She was calm and smiled at him. How could she ask him to do this?
"No. Rhae, please." He pleaded, more tears now flowing freely, steaming off his face. "Please, don't ask this."
"You must. It's the only way," she whispered through the fire and smoke. "It's either me, or everyone else."
"Fuck everyone else. You're my sister, my family." He yelled, desperation dripping from every syllable. Begging her to see reason.
"Aerion." Her voice was soothing. She stepped towards him. She was mere feet from him, but the smoke obscured his vision. He stepped back, shaking his head. Pleading.
"Rhae." He begged. "I can't."
"I was never going to leave this place. I was never going to live for long." For a moment the shell was his sister again. "You must." She was gone again. She stepped towards him, holding out the sword. "Do it. Quickly."
He wanted to flee. To stop this madness. He couldn't kill her. Nor could he leave her in this hell. Nine years. Nine years he searched for her. Now that he found her, he wished he hadn't. He closed his eyes and pray to any god that would listen. Please, I can't do it. I can't. He sank to his knees. The near molten ground went unnoticed.
"You must." This time the words didn't come from his sister. He looked around, no one else was there. "You must." It repeated. It was as if the flames themselves took Rhae's side. He looked at her. His vision was blurred from sweat and tears. Her silver hair billowed untouched in the searing wind.
"Rhae." He tried desperately. One last time. "Please. Don't make me do this." This place is truly cursed. I should never have come here. She should never have come here.
"Aerion." She said as she gracefully stepped through the flames that burned between them. "I love you brother." Their identical lilac eyes met. Suddenly, to his utter horror, he grasped the offered weapon. His body had betrayed him. His movements were no longer his own. Please, no, he thought, desperately trying to fight it.
"I – I love – you too." He struggled to speak. Please, kill me, not her, he pleaded to whoever or whatever was compelling him. It ignored him.
"Goodbye, baby brother." She smiled at him. Peace and acceptance shined in her eyes. Eyes he would shut forever. He plunged the dagger into her heart with an agonizing cry. She smiled at him one last time before her body began to fall. He caught her with a sob. Why.
His tears fell on her motionless face as the light left her lilac eyes. All around them, the flames grew larger and more intense. His heart wrenching cries were snuffed out by the consuming flames. The light from the flames blinded him. He shut his eye hoping to save his sight. He didn't notice that his sister's now lifeless body had begun to burn. The cursed blade melted along with her. Aerion began to lose consciousness Over the thunder of the inferno, a great roar was heard. It was so loud that the fires were silent by comparison. The ground shook and Aerion drifted into the dark. Hoping he would meet his sister on the other side.