Capítulo 9: Skin
Aerion dropped to a knee, his legs shaking in exhaustion, the crowd had quietened down. He clenched his jaw trying to steady himself as a shadow fell over him. His hair hung over his face, blood dripping down his right hand.
He felt a rush of excitement as a voice rang out over the grounds. An iconic sword tapped his shoulder gently, he saw the large ruby encrusted in the hilt of the legendary blade from the corner of his eye.
Blackfyre
"In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave, In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the young and innocent. In the name of the Maid, I charge you to protect all women. In the name of the Smith, I charge you to be strong. In the name of the Crone, I charge you to seek wisdom. In the name of the Stranger, I charge you to face death with a steady heart."
The steady, calm voice rang over the silent grounds, the valyrian steel sword gently tapping his other shoulder, a burst of energy rushing through him.
"Arise, Ser Aerion Rivers"
Shakily, Aerion rose to his feet, the roaring crowd almost deafening. He swayed, his body threatening to give out, a steady hand grasping his shoulder, his eyes flicking up to the man.
King Viserys I
"Great fighting Ser" The King remarked with a nod, a calm smile on his face as he lifted his hand from Aerions shoulder and turned, walking calmly back to the Kingsbox.
Aerion couldn't help the mixed emotions that ran through him as he started to half walk, half limp towards the squires tent. He still half wished in that moment Viserys would have noticed him, would have magically realised who he was.
The other half was grateful the man didn't notice him as his Uncle's words rang through his head once more.
'They'll kill you'
He shook his head, eyeing the approaching tent with a strange desire to sit down for the next few hours.
—-
The next morning Aerion woke with a gasp, his pulse rapid as he snarled in frustration. Memories that weren't his playing through his head, fighting in a forest, his sword a blur as he cut down dozens of men.
He threw the blanket off of himself as he stood, uncaring as the cold stone sent shivers up his spine. He eyed the small window, it was barely light out. He sighed tiredly and placed his forehead against the cold stone wall.
—
He kneeled in front of the Weirwood, his eyes closed. Yesterday his uncle had competed in the Knights melee. He had come third, not that Aerion was there to see it, he was half asleep in the squires tent.
Luckily the joust was to start within the next two hours. His uncle had entered in that, this time Aerion would watch. But first he needed to try and find answers, any answer to what these damn dreams meant.
It had all started at the Godswood in Stone Hedge, though that weirwood had a carved face in it. Was that what this all was, Old Gods?
Were they cursing him, blessing him? He didn't know, and rather didn't enjoy it either way, he could barely sleep through a full night without waking in a terrified sweat.
He remembers old legends he was taught by the Maester, things about children of the forest, skinchangers and giant spiders beyond the wall.
But that was…that was all fake, stories to be told to children.
His hand outstretched hopefully, pressing gently against the rough bark of the weirwood. He felt nothing, no pull, no visions, nothing.
"Tell me something" he muttered almost desperately "what's happening to me"
His eyes were closed as he tried to shut out his other senses, hoping for a sign, something to tell him what's happened. But nothing, not a shift in the wind, not a sound, not a pull, nothing.
He felt a familiar dose of frustration build within him, his palm pushing against the tree harder.
"Tell me" he hissed harshly, the wind stilled, it suddenly felt as if something was watching him. His eyes opened as a raven cawed. But he wasn't in front of the tree anymore.
Instead he was atop it, looking down at his now slumped body in shock. His bones felt…wrong, twisted, his heartbeat mismatched the rhythm of the creature's, as if the two forms were at war with each other.
His breathing picked up as he looked down only to see black feathers covering him. He stepped back in shock, screeching in panic as he started to fall from the tree branch.
An odd caw escaped his misshapen throat as he rapidly flapped his feathered limbs like a mad man, wind rushing past his form quickly.
Then he was back, his eyes wide open as he coughed harshly, his ribs screaming in pain. Dirt covered the left side of his face. He lifted himself slowly, still on his knees as he looked up, eyeing a familiar raven easily recovering from its fall before cawing and flying off.
Aerion stilled, his body feeling uncomfortable as the realisation hit him—he became the raven. Old stories of skinchangers passed through his mind, the uneasy feeling of being watched invading him once more.
He had laughed at the stories as a child, dismissing them easily, thinking his uncle was just trying to scare him. Tales of men who stole the skins of animals, losing themselves as they became more akin to beast than man.
Taking on traits of the animals they inhabited. They'd kill for sport, tear men down to the bone, he clenched his jaw as he shook his head, his hands trembling.
They were stories, he—he didn't feel unusual, his mind flashed back to his dream.
About the dragon, being chased by the rotting black dragon and a sudden realisation froze him solid. Memories of him hallucinating claws and scales shot through his mind.
That had stopped not all too long ago, but…but that was proof—proof that he might—he shook his head stubbornly.
He was not changing, he wasn't anything like a dragon.
Gently he steadied himself against the pale tree, almost scared to even touch the tree as another shiver ran through his body.
"Must I call you Ser now?" A voice called through the fog in his mind, for a moment he thought it a vision or some kind of hallucination.
But no, as he turned his head he saw the familiar form of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, the glow of the morning sun framing her. Aerion blinked in surprise and he shifted slightly.
"Princess" He bowed his head deeply, his body still feeling somewhat…changed, different. Almost as if someone had stitched on his skin too tight. "You have no need"
He answered her question as he gently stood, the Kingsguard behind the Princess eyeing him seriously.
"You fought exceptionally well" Rhaenyra said, a hint of admiration in her tone as she tilted her head. Aerion blinked in surprise as his hand lifted from his aching ribs.
"Thank you" he said genuinely as he eyed her, she was wearing a cream coloured dress, her rings still wrapped around her fingers, reflecting the sunlight.
"So, will you be participating in the joust today?" Rhaenyra asked with a playful edge. "You're a knight now, after all. Surely you're up for the challenge?"
"I'm afraid not, I'd make a fool of myself" he half joked as he suddenly coughed once more, his body still feeling out of sorts. She eyed him speculatively at him coughing.
"You're still hurt?" She asked curiously. Aerion nodded with a slight wince, as his hand drifted back to his ribs.
"That Blackwood hits like a catapult" he said, Rhaenyras lips tugging upwards slightly at his remark before shooting one back.
"I seem to remember you hitting the Blackwood quite hard yourself" she said, his mind conjured the image of the Blackwoods face after their bout, a bloody mess was the apt way to describe it.
He shook his head as he ran his hand through his hair, his eyes refocusing on the Princess.
"I did, didn't I" he remarked as his lips tugged into a small smile. He would have to keep an eye out, he was a Bracken bastard, he knew the potential retribution could be…severe.
"You did" she confirmed with a slight upturn of her lips, walking slowly towards the tree, carefully sitting down among the large roots not even two metres away. Aerion stepped back, the Kingsguard eyeing him almost warily.
"You can stay" her voice rang out, a hint of curiosity still present as she opened a large book, flicking the pages delicately.
Aerion blinked, grateful for the offer, but then his eyes flicked to the tree branch, the red leaves standing out starkly against the blue sky.
"I'm afraid I cannot stay Princess" he said with a hint of regret in his tone, hesitating before turning and facing the exit of the garden. "Thank you though" he said genuinely as he left.
He didn't notice her lilac eyes following his retreating form curiously.
—-
Thoughts?
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