Chapter 56: Rhaenys
He stared up, the white ceiling looming above as he wrestled with his thoughts. Sweat clung to his chest, his skin hot despite the cool air surrounding him. The blanket draped across his waist radiated warmth, a stark contrast to the chill in the room.
Turning his head slightly, he felt an irresistible pull toward Rhaenyra. She lay beside him, half-draped in a light blue blanket, her lilac eyes fixed on him with an intensity that made his pulse race.
A knowing smile danced on her lips, radiating confidence that left him breathless—she was neither flustered nor shy.
Aerion swallowed hard, his face flushing as he pulled the blanket higher over himself, trying to shake the unfamiliar vulnerability that crept up his spine. He had never felt like this before—so exposed, so utterly aware of her presence in a way that left him unsettled.
"You're not getting shy on me now, are you?" she teased softly, her voice light, though her eyes held a warmth that sent his thoughts spinning.
Aerion let out a shaky breath, dragging his hand over his face as if that might clear the fog in his mind. "I'm just…not used to this," he admitted, his voice quieter than he meant it to be.
"Not used to what?" Her tone was playful, but there was something else in it too—something softer, more patient.
He hesitated, feeling the weight of her question hanging between them. "This" he said finally, meeting her eyes with a mix of uncertainty and something more. "Being with you…like this."
Her smile softened, and she shifted closer, the blanket slipping from her shoulders. "We've already crossed that line, Aerion," she whispered, her breath warm against his skin as she leaned in. "There's no need to be nervous now."
Aerion's heart thudded painfully in his chest, and before he could think twice, he reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek as he leaned forward.
The kiss that followed wasn't sudden, but it was filled with quiet intensity. Their lips met slowly, but with certainty. It wasn't about hunger or need, it was something deeper.
His hand found her waist, pulling her in without hesitation this time, and the warmth of her body pressed against his felt right in a way he couldn't explain.
When they finally pulled apart, the air around them felt charged. Aerion's lips parted, as if to speak, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he just looked at her, the flush in his cheeks fading as her presence settled over him.
She tilted her head slightly, her fingers tracing the edge of his jaw. "No need to hide behind blankets now" she murmured, her smile teasing but her eyes warm.
Aerion found himself smiling back, a quiet, genuine smile that said more than words ever could.
—-
"Gaelithox, meet Grock" Aerion said in High Valyrian as the crow on his shoulder released a sharp caw. The creak of the massive dragon saddle being dragged across the stone floor echoing in the Dragonpit.
"Grock, this is Gaelithox," Aerion said again, this time to the crow, who nuzzled his beak against Aerion's cheek in a familiar gesture. His hand trailed along Gaelithox's dark, rough scales, feeling the dragon's heat beneath his palm.
Dragonkeepers moved with methodical precision, throwing ropes over Gaelithox's back, their whispers in Valyrian barely audible over the low rumble of the dragon's breath.
Aerion felt a low thrum resonate through the dragon's body as it laid still, his massive wings tucked in tightly, eyes watching the men work with unnerving intelligence.
"Rise" one of the keepers commanded in High Valyrian, his voice steady but respectful. Gaelithox's eyes narrowed slightly at the sound, but did not move.
"Rise, Gaelithox" Aerion repeated in the same language, his voice carrying a quiet authority. The dragon responded immediately, pushing its massive body up with a grunt, its wings flaring slightly.
The Dragonkeepers quickly ran underneath the dragons form, securing the saddle firmly to Gaelithoxs chest.
"It's done, my prince," one of the Dragonkeepers said as he stepped back to admire the craftsmanship. The saddle gleamed with fresh oil, it's dark leather adorned with an intricately carved crow.
"Thank you" he said distractedly, his attention already focused on Gaelithox. The dragon had dropped its wing eagerly, its tail thumping against the ground in impatient anticipation.
Aerion couldn't suppress the grin that split his face.
He climbed onto Gaelithox's back, his fingers brushing the saddle before gripping it tightly. A low, contented warble escaped the dragon's throat, its fins fluttering along its spine in excitement.
A moment of silence passed, Grock eyeing them with a tilted head as he perched onto a nearby notch in the walls of the pit. His beady eyes were unnervingly smart as they ran across the large dragon.
Aerion's fingers worked quickly, securing the chains around his waist and chest, his hands then settled on the handles of the saddle. His knuckles whitened as he gripped them tightly.
A deep breath steadied his heart.
"Soves" he whispered.
Gaelithox reacted immediately, springing forward with a surge of power, muscles coiling and releasing beneath him. The dragon took to the sky with unnatural grace, cutting through the air like a blade slicing through silk.
His massive wings beat almost soundlessly, the world below shrinking rapidly as they ascended. A loud trill echoed from Gaelithox's throat, a sound of pure exhilaration, and Aerion felt the sound vibrate through his own chest.
Below them, the city of King's Landing looked up in awe. Children pointed toward the sky, vendors paused mid-haggle, and guards craned their necks to catch a glimpse of the young prince and his dragon soaring high above.
Aerion grinned wildly, the sheer thrill of it sending a rush of heat through his veins. Without thinking, he spread his arms wide, surrendering to the moment, a breathless laugh escaping him.
Down below, on a balcony in the Red Keep, Princess Rhaenys, the Queen Who Never Was, watched the sky with an inscrutable expression. Her keen eyes assessed the dragon and the young prince riding it, a mixture of admiration and concern swirling within her.
Laena Velaryon, her daughter, stood beside her, leaning eagerly against the stone railing, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. "It's a beautiful dragon," she remarked, her gaze fixed on Gaelithox as he soared above.
Rhaenys considered her daughter's words. It was most certainly…unique creature, the dragon's fins shimmered in the sun. Yet, the scars crisscrossing Gaelithox's form told a story of battle. A useful beast, should war ever grace Westeros' shores.
He's certainly risen high, she thought, a twinge of both pride and bitterness swelling in her chest. From bastard to prince—it was certainly inspiring, no doubt.
"What was he like?" Rhaenys asked, her attention still fixed on the dragon that danced through the clouds with surprising speed.
Laena considered the question, her brow furrowing slightly. "He's…reserved, very proud of his dragon," she replied thoughtfully.
Rhaenys noticed her daughter hesitate, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features. She suppressed a smile, allowing Laena the space to voice her thoughts.
"He seemed…fond of the Princess," Laena said cautiously, as if testing the waters of her mother's reaction.
Rhaenys's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Fond? The implication stirred a mixture of intrigue and concern within her. But then again, was it truly any surprise that someone would be fond of the Princess.
The only thing that really mattered was if Princess Rhaenyra returned said fondness.
—-
Aerion lay on his back, his gaze fixed on the intricately painted ceiling, fingers gently entwined in a mess of platinum silver hair. Rhaenyra's head rested against his bare chest, her eyes half-lidded, peaceful in the quiet of the moment.
He could feel the warmth radiating from her as she shifted slightly, her gaze drifting to his right hand, laid carelessly across his stomach.
Curiosity sparked in her lilac eyes as she slowly sat up, reaching out to take his hand in hers. A playful grin sprouted on her face as she examined the ring, confirming her suspicions.
Aerion looked up at her in confusion, the warmth of her skin disappearing as he shifted in discomfort.
Her eyes seemed to alight as she turned her gaze back to him, a warmth blooming in her chest. The faint Targaryen sigil on the ring caught the candle light, shimmering subtly.
"You still wear it," she said, her voice laced with both surprise and delight. The ring was the very one she had given him years ago, a token from their first shared ride atop Syrax.
Aerion confusion faced as he felt a smile rise to his face, warmth spreading through him as he shifted once more, the memory igniting a playful spark in his chest.
"I also still have your favour from the tourney," he replied, his tone teasing.
"Where?" Rhaenyra asked, her eyes glittering beautifully with curiosity, as if remembering the day.
"In my solar at Crows Point" he muttered, unable to suppress a smirk. "It even has its own pedestal" he joked.
Her laughter rang like music in the air, bright and infectious. "You're jesting!" she exclaimed, eyes wide with amusement. "You didn't actually put it on display, did you?"
"Why not?" he countered playfully. "It's a reminder of a glorious victory, after all."
She snorted "I remember you losing that tourney" she teased as she leaned over him, a warm smile on her face. Her silver hair fell around his face like a veil, encircling the two in their own world.
"You gave me your favour, that is victory enough" he said, his hand rose to cup her face. Despite his teasing words, he recalled that day all too well—the disappointment of losing.
All of that disappointment disappeared as she leaned down, gently, slowly pressing her lips against his. Her lips always stole the breath from his lungs, this time was no different.
His hand ran through her silk, silver hair, the strands slipping through his fingers like water as he pulled her closer.
"Wed me" she murmured breathily against his lips, Aerion's heart stuttered in his chest as hand paused in its movement. Rhaenyra continued, her lips still pressing against Aerions.
His mind raced, caught between disbelief and desire, as he struggled to comprehend the boldness of her request. Rhaenyra pulled back, looking down at him with fire in her eyes.
"Make me your wife."
The world around him faded, leaving only the two of them suspended in time. As the shock ebbed, a fierce longing surged within him, igniting every fibre of his being.
Without thinking, he closed the distance between them, capturing her lips with a searing kiss that he poured all his emotion into. A warm, almost overwhelming feeling boiled in his chest as he desperately pulled her closer to him.
—-
Also, this is my third ever fic to get 1 million views!!
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