Chapter 4: The Red Keep
Aerion rode his horse through the front gates of the city, the smell of shit, piss and sweat hitting him like a warhammer. He covered his nose with his tunic as one of his hands clenched around the reins. The retinue around reacted similarly, his uncle even looking peeved as he grimaced.
"Always this bad?" He asked his uncle in a disgusted tone, disbelief running through him, the man nodded slowly, his eyes running through the city.
The people were ignoring the large retinue, they must be used to it. Children carelessly running ahead of the horses, joyous shouts trailing behind them. They passed a street filled with markets, shouting and bartering filled his ears until they passed.
He blinked, suddenly the air seemed cold, the hair on his neck rising. It felt as if scales were forming down his arm, with one hand he grabbed at his arm as he looked down.
The skin felt perfectly normal, and looked normal. He almost snarled in frustration, this had been happening ever since that—
ROARR!!!
—his head shot up, the sight of a yellow dragon flying above the city taking his breath away, his eyes locked onto the beast as his hand clenched hard around the reins of the horse.
The noise and smell of the city seemed to disappear as he saw a vague hint of platinum silver hair reflecting the sun atop the shining dragon. He knew this dragon, Syrax, the mount of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, The Realms Delight.
He swallowed harshly, that could be his cousin, maybe even his sister. His skin suddenly felt clammy as he dragged his eyes away from the dragon, an odd sense of shame and envy filling him.
He wanted that, he wanted to be atop a dragon. His eyes shifted to his uncle, the man looking at him seriously. Aerion blinked in surprise, the man was looking at him…almost like he knew what he was thinking.
Aerion looked away, his eyes focusing on the distance, the shame and envy only growing as he clenched his jaw, keeping his eyes on the roads.
—-
They had arrived at the Red Keep, the castle ludicrous, its blood red brick contrasted beautifully with the blue sky, its intimidating spires seemed to stab into the heavens above as bridges connected the separate towers like a web.
It was a marvel.
The guardsmen had left to find an inn, only the Bracken family and direct servants allowed into the Targaryen Royal keep.
He could have lived here, grown up here, he thought to himself sombrely as he got off his horse. Handing it off to a stable hand, his eyes flicking onto the large entrance of the keep.
A Lord, someone important looking, approached the small retinue of Brackens and servants, Aerion stood near the back his eyes flicking around the courtyard.
"Lord Bracken" the man nodded and only then did Aerion notice his broach against his chest, the golden sign of the Hand sat proudly on the man's chest.
This was Otto Hightower.
"Lord Hand" Lord Bracken greeted, bowing slightly, showing The Kings Hand the proper respect.
"I am here to escort you to the Throne Room" The Hand said neutrally with a nod as he turned sharply and started to slowly walk towards the entrance.
The retinue followed eagerly, Aerions envy quashed by the excitement and nervousness to see The King. His uncle looked back and gave him a sharp look, warning him to keep on his best behaviour.
Aerion clenched his fists, trying to rid himself of the obvious emotion on his face. His nervousness just wouldn't stop, what if they recognised him!
His mind raced with the images, he could be welcomed into the family, allowed to ride dragons, and become a prince of the realm. Allowed to sit at the high table, trained by the kingsguard themselves.
He'd already looked into possibilities of who could possibly be his father, his first option The infamous Rogue Prince, Daemon Targaryen, the second option The King Viserys I himself.
The last possible option was Prince Baelon The Brave, the father of King Viserys and Prince Daemon. Out of all of them he'd always leaned in favour of Daemon, it seemed to make the most sense.
Prince Baelon was one of the most honourable people to ever live according to stories, he'd never sire a bastard, same with King Viserys I, who again according to stories and songs loves his wife Aemna with the passion of the sun.
Whereas Prince Daemon was…he wasn't anything like that according to songs, his misdeeds and recklessness known through the realm. The man was one of the best swords alive, he wielded Dark Sister and rode one of the most ferocious dragons alive.
Aerion sighed, his hands clenching in nervousness, the Retinue was standing in front of the throne room's large oak doors. Otto Hightower pushing the doors gently, opening slowly in response.
The silence seemed to suffocate him, the only sound he could hear was the creaking of the great wooden doors, a rush of warm air seemed to release from the opening doors, akin to a dragon's maw.
Aerion could barely see the room around the people ahead of him, servants gently pushing past him to see.
But he could see one thing that took his breath away, his fists unclenching in shock as he blinked. A head of platinum blonde hair, a crown placed upon the man's brow.
King Viserys I sat with a calm smile, his face kind but marked with the weight of rulership. His crown rested among his platinum blonde hair, the sunlight reflecting off of the crown beautifully.
The Iron Throne loomed high above, a mass of twisted swords seeming to bow to the king. Everything in the room, the banners, the floor tiles, the guards—radiated power and history.
He followed behind the retinue almost hypnotised as his eyes ran over the king's court, sat to the left and right of his throne watching the proceedings almost eagerly.
"Your Grace" Lord Hand said as he gestured to the Bracken Retinue. "May I present to you Lord Bracken of Stone Hedge and his retinue. They have come to pay their respects and participate in the upcoming festivities."
Lord Bracken almost instantly dropped to a knee, the whole retinue following in his wake, Aerions heart beating nervously as he bowed his head and dropped to a knee, his eyes stuck onto the King as his hair hung over his face.
King Viserys kept his calm smile as he gestured towards the retinue. "Rise, Lord Bracken. I am pleased to see you and your party here. I trust the journey was not too taxing? I look forward to the festivities and your contributions to the tournament."
Lord Bracken stood, the retinue following in his wake "Of course Your Grace, I too am excited for the festivities" he said subserviently "My son shall be entering the tourney" he said as a smile broke onto his face. "I hope he shall impress you, Your Grace"
Viserys chuckled "I'm sure he will" he said as he shuffled slightly his eyes running over the retinue "But I'm afraid we will have to cut this short" he said regretfully.
Lord Bracken blinked in surprise but nodded "Of course your grace" he said, his previous jubilation toned down.
"My Lord Hand has prepared you chambers for you and your retinue" Viserys said simply, his smile not leaving his face as he gestured down at the man. "I do hope to see your son do well in the tourney" he said genuinely with a nod.
Lord Bracken bowed his head deeply with a muttered "Your Grace" as the Lord's attention switched to the hand who quickly gestured to a servant.
"If you'll follow me m'lord" the woman said in a unique accent, as she started to walk towards the chambers for the Brackens.
—-
Aerion laid in his chambers bed, the room still small but decorated, the small windows letting the sun in, a small desk sat in the corner of the room.
The tourney was in two days, the squires tournament was early in the morning. He clenched his jaw as he looked at his ceiling, thoughts racing as he imagined himself winning.
Being knighted by the king himself, maybe even his father, his mind whispered traitorously.
He sighed, getting to his feet and leaving the room. The corridor filled with small retinues walking past with servants leading them to their own chambers.
Gods this place was loud.
He stepped out of his room, closing his chamber door behind him as he started to walk through the Red Keep. An odd sense of pride ran through him as he eyed and assessed the beautiful tapestries hanging on the walls.
Large vases and ornaments lined the walls in stone pillars with guards standing nearby. Aerion walked through the chaos, servants brushing past him as he continued through his family's home.
Eventually he came across a courtyard, a large weirwood tree in the centre. He blinked in confusion at the sight as he came to a stop, walking past the guards at the entrance of the garden, he approached.
The chaos and noise surrounding the busy corridors seemed to disappear as he stepped into the beautiful garden.
His steps were careful and soft as he circled the weirwood tree, it had no face carved into its white bark, just a normal weirwood. He eyed the familiar red leaves and then his eyes wandered back to the pale white tree.
Just a normal weirwood.
He brushed his hand gently against the bark, feeling an odd sense of calm as his palm pressed against the tree. He closed his eyes gently, the sounds and smells of the city at large not meeting him here.
He leaned slightly forward, his brown hair pressing lightly against the white bark, his hand steadying him as he stood on a large tree root.
"You are?" A haughty, curious feminine voice asked, breaking Aerion out of his sudden reverie as he turned around, only to freeze in shock, his eyes widening in surprise as he instinctively bowed his head.
"Princess"
—-
I know that Kingslanding does not have a Weirwood and that's something HOTD added in, but it may be kind of necessary, anyway Thoughts on this chapter?
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