A Promise
Aerion strolled inside of his uncle's solar and faced him.
"So, which house has wisely decided to bend the knee?"
Doran smiled. "Do not be so impatient. They are quite cautious... those Tyrells. They are thinking of bending the knee but they need your word in exchange before doing so."
"What is it that they need?"
The promise of attaining the Reach, the most fertile and quite possibly the most powerful land in all the Seven Kingdoms, was not something Aerion could look over. With both the Reach and Dorne, along with his own forces, he would very well conquer the Seven Kingdoms... although that is not his current goal. He first wished to stabilise his own Empire before going to claim what is rightfully his.
But having the Reach's allegiance before that certainly wouldn't hurt.
"Your protection from any outsiders, be it the Ironborn or the Usurper," Doran stated.
"Then they shall have it." Aerion shrugged.
"There's more... they wish to have your word in person. The Arbor was chosen to be the location for this secret meeting if you are willing." Doran put the letter forward, incase Aerion wished to read it.
"A secret meeting... it seems that my plan is bound to change direction slightly." Aerion took up the letter and swiftly read through it. "There isn't a need for the meeting itself to be secret, however. By then they would already have my protection."
"You can do as you wish regarding that matter," Doran replied. "However, I wish to suggest a course of action to follow this."
"Go on."
"You can use the Greyjoy Rebellion to further your own hold in the Seven Kingdoms after securing the Reach. After you crush House Greyjoy and add them to your own navy, then you can strike Casterly Rock and force Tywin's heir to do the same. Then you may even confront the Usurper in the Riverlands and defeat him in battle..."
Aerion frowned. "That is another conquest right after I completed my first."
"Do you still wish to be called the Rightful King?" Doran wondered. "I never thought you to be a content person, Aerion. Instead of retaining all the hatred within yourself for several more years, it would be best to unleash it all upon the rebels and be free from it afterwards. Don't you find that reasonable?"
Aerion pondered over the thought of taking the Seven Kingdoms. The Iron Throne was already his... for him, there wasn't a need to rush his conquest as there was plenty of time to prepare and grow his own army further before confronting the Usurper again.
"Well?" Doran spoke once more.
Jaime looked at him, nodding his head. However, Aerion had other plans for now.
"I have enough matters to settle in Essos," Aerion replied. "The Greyjoy Rebellion won't end soon unless a more conservative Lord takes over from Balon. The longer that the Usurper fails to protect the Realm, the weaker his hold will become. If I am to be patient, then the conquest to come would be even easier."
"I'll give it six months to a year, enough time for the Valyrian Empire to prosper under my rule while the Usurper continues to fail in his duty."
Doran chuckled. He agreed with being patient when it came to waging war, only that he wanted to avenge Elia's children sooner rather than later. "I see... that is wise of you."
Aerion nodded. "Then I will be leaving for the Arbor before returning to Essos. I doubt even Balon Greyjoy would dare to strike my subjects. If he does... well, my first visit to the Iron Islands will not be pleasant for the Ironborn."
"Is that all?"
"For now, yes. Though I have a feeling that Tywin will attempt to strike a deal as time passes... if the Ironborn continue to do as they wish."
"Strike a deal with him? My only proposal would be fire and steel."
"The Lannisters have survived this long for a reason," Doran stated. "They know when to surrender and how to survive. Perhaps Tywin will not live, but he will ensure that House Lannister does."
"It will live on either way," Aerion replied. "There is no other house in the Westerlands worthy enough to replace House Lannister. Anyway, write to the Tyrells that I've agreed to sail for the Arbor."
"Very well."
Jaime listened well, though he did not speak his opinion on that matter as it was discussed before.
~
After a well-spent week in Sunspear, Doran led Aerion to the Water Gardens before he would leave. Aerion found it unnecessary but his uncle had convinced him.
"What is the point of this?"
"There is your realm, Aerion." Doran stated as he looked upon the innocent children playing in the pools. "You have a far greater realm than the Martells but is no different. Look at them all, can you see the difference between the highborn and low?"
Aerion looked carefully and, indeed, he could not tell a difference. They were all children.
"Remember them, in everything that you do," Doran spoke. "My own mother told me these very words. It is easy for the prince to call the spears, but it was the children who would pay the price every time. For their sake, a ruler should not call war without a good cause and a strong chance of victory."
"This is where the conflict stands for you... the longer you wait, the longer will your realm pay the price of the Greyjoy Rebellion. However, if you do wait, your forces will be stronger and the conquest of the Seven Kingdoms will be swifter. Your realm east of the Seven Kingdoms will certainly be stronger at the price of this realm, your true home."
"I shall leave this last question to you. Which realm is it that matters more to you?"
Aerion sighed. "Uncle... you truly have a way with your words. However, the other Kingdoms have chosen their King and they shall keep him until I decide to conquer them myself or they choose to serve me instead."
"My home is Sunspear, not King's Landing... it hasn't been so since I was three. If the people of the realm wish to prosper, they must look towards a King who can protect them."
"I will leave it at that."
"You are decisive." Doran chuckled. "I do not disagree with what you said in the end, Aerion."
"Then we are of the same mind." Aerion smiled.
"There is one more matter. Can your magic... heal?"
"Heal?" Aerion shook his head. "Unfortunately, I can only heal myself through fire which burns others within moments. Is there something that concerns you?"
"Indeed... there is. I have been developing a growing case of gout in my knees, toes and hands."
Aerion looked at his hands more closely and noticed it for the first time as Doran was no longer hiding it.
"Gout..." Aerion muttered. "There is no cure for that, I believe. Not even in the Citadel."
"If even your magic is incapable... it will not be long before I am unable to walk."
Aerion clenched his left arm, the arm from where he would most often use magic. It had rarely ever failed him...
His eyes were of sorrow at first, the sorrow which turned into burning determination.
"Uncle, I will cure your gout. You have my word that you will not need to be carried around, nor will you die sooner than you should. This, I promise... by my honour as the Head of House Targaryen."
"You didn't need to- this is not even a promise that is certain..."
"I will keep my word, as I always have."
Old Valyria remains my best choice regarding the discovery of new Magic...
After his stay in the Water Gardens, Aerion returned to the port of Sunspear to prepare his relatively small fleet of ten ships for a journey to the Arbor. Although the fleet was small, with Aerion in the lead, even the current Iron Fleet wouldn't dare be arrogant. This was because the fleet consisted of undead who were also led by no one else but their Lord, the seemingly invincible Stormcaller.
After seeing Arianne take care of Jocelyn for him, Aerion decided to leave them there. It seems that Jocelyn and Trsystane were also getting along fine, so she had someone else that wasn't him. The journey wasn't going to be a long one, anyway.
~
Aerion spent the majority of the journey sleeping and testing his magic. The easiest way of doing so was to harm himself or help those in need and use another method (that wasn't fire) to heal the wounds. Unfortunately, his progress was slow and even seemingly non-existent at times. Even with his growing frustration, he remained determined and continued to try.
Eventually, the Mad King reached the Arbor. All ten ships still had the distinguished banner of House Targaryen which certainly shook the very cores of both the smallfolk and highborn in the Arbor.
The banner of House Targaryen hoisted upon a fleet... how long has it been since they had witnessed such a brilliant (yet frightening, at times) sight?
Was it Aerion 'Stormcaller' of House Targaryen who had come himself? If so, what could he want at such a time? These thoughts resounded across the Arbor as Aerion left his chamber and took to the upper deck.
His violet eyes briefly looked around Ryamsport, the Arbor's port town.
So... this is the Arbor.
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