章節 32: Aerion Rivers
His body still withered with the instincts of the spider stumbled as he got back to his feet, his body feeling too heavy for but a moment as he eyed the man.
"Blackwood" Aerion responded, his heart beating unsteadily and his eyes narrowed on the man. His mind briefly recalling the vision of a far older Garon, his sword drawn.
"You've been passing through Blackwood lands bastard" the young man mentioned, his eyes narrowed and dark eyes focused on him like a hawk.
"I have," Aerion admitted. "As have thousands more, what's different about me?" he tried to reason, though he knew it would be unsuccessful as Garon scowled, his scarred face twisting grotesquely.
"You did this to my face!" The man almost exploded "Over a tourney! A gods-damned tourney!" Spittle flew from his snarling mouth, Aerion remained silent, his jaw clenching.
He was right.
Garon got off of his horse quickly, his hand still resting on his sheathed blades hilt as he approached. His eyes were narrowed, his lips pulled back showing off his teeth.
"You did this to me!" Garon snarled "You've been lucky, not anymore" the men behind Garon shifted atop their horses, the armour clinking.
Aerion casually dropped his own hand to his sheathed sword hilt "Don't" he said seriously to the Blackwood, the man coming to a stop a few metres away.
"Why not" Garon said, his head tilting, he looked fucking mad, his eyes dark as they sharply ran over him. "Is anyone actually here to stop me? Will anyone ever know it was me? Will anyone even care?" He pressed as he started to prowl back and forth in front of Aerion, his dark eyes locked madly onto Aerion.
Aerion snorted, "Remember what happened every other time we've fought Blackwood" he warned. Both times had ended up with Blackwood on his back bleeding, Aerion standing victorious.
"Oh I know" he growled "You're good with a blade bastard" he admitted, still prowling and suddenly unsheathing his blade with the deadly hum of steel. "Why do you think these men are here?" He nodded back to the men behind him, atop their horses still.
"To die by my hand" Aerion shot back quickly as he unsheathed his own blade. "Unless, you leave" he said seriously as he pointed at Garon with his blade. "Live to spread rumours for another day"
Aerions mind went back to the vision, a far older Garon barrelling into his chambers, unsheathing a blade and proclaiming 'The Queen is dead'. This could be it, his chance to change the future for the first time.
His fingers tightened around the blade, though he was without armour and versus three men. He didn't doubt his chances.
"I'm not leaving without your corpse rotting my wake!" Garon snarled as he pounced, his sword coming down in a vicious arc towards Aerions face. Aerion casually smacked the blow away with his own blade, the ring of steel echoing in their surroundings.
This was his chance, he recalled Rhaenyras death, the child's murder…this was his chance to take his first step in subverting that future. His eyes ran over Garons form, he was wearing light armour.
He took a step forward, his sword plunging downwards through Garons right foot with a gruesome crack, the blade planting itself deep into the stone below. Garon gasped, trying to stumble back but only losing balance.
The men behind had unsheathed their blades, still atop their horses. Aerions hand quickly fetched his dagger from the small of his back, unsheathing it with a shink.
His narrowed purple eyes met with Garons wide dark ones, his scarred visage leaving a heavy ball of guilt in his gut as his blade raised. He hesitated, after all the only reason Blackwood hated him was because of what Aerion had done.
What he had done to the man's face.
Then Rhaenyra's corpse flashed before his eyes, the blood covering the ground, the organs spilling from her torn body splayed across the floor.
His hesitation disappeared.
His blade swung up, the sound of steel cutting through air deafening. Garrons eyes widened further, a choked gasp escaping him as the dagger dug into the soft of his neck. Tearing through his throat, only stopping when the blade connected with bone.
The blood already covered his clothed arm as he pulled the dagger out, his eyes snapping to the men atop their horses, fully armoured, their swords prepared to cut him down.
Aerion's irises turned pure white, the purple vanishing in an instant as his mind split into two. His mind was quickly overcome, he was seeing from two different sets of eyes, moving with two different bodies.
The horses were his now. He felt their exhaustion, their muscles tensing as his will took over. His human body started to fall to the ground, as if someone had cut his strings.
The two men riding on his two backs looked down in confusion as their horses stopped, Aerion suddenly reared up onto his back legs, sending the men crashing down to the stone below painfully.
He relinquished his shaky control as his eyes rolled back into place, he shot forward, quickly as he regained his balance, dropping to a knee beside one of the fallen men.
The Blackwood knight choked as a dagger planted itself into his gut, between the heavy plate. Aerions eyes flicked to his right, the other man was on his feet, his sword in hand.
Aerions iris once again disappeared, the white of his eyes taking over as the man's horse suddenly kicked backwards, denting the heavy armour and sending the man rolling back across the bridge with a shout.
Aerion scrambled, akin to an animal as he followed calculatingly behind the man's rolling body. As soon as the man had fallen still, groaning. Aerion pounced, he tore the man's visor up with one hand, his other hand plunging the dagger down into the man's wide eye.
The man released a ghastly scream as the dagger scraped against his skull, the sound awful as Aerions dagger raised again, plunging with a crack as it parted the cartilage in his nose.
Then Aerion raised his dagger again, and again and again. Losing himself as instincts from being in the mind of snakes, wolves, spiders, hawks and a myriad of other predators took over.
Each time his dagger came down with an awful, grating, flesh tearing sound that seemed deafening on the silent silent bridge.
—-
Marq looked around, fascination filled him to his core. He'd grown up on story's of the Mudds, The River Kings had been Kings for over a thousand years, a lot of their reign defending Westeros from Andal Invaders.
Back then…before his father had found out about his—he cut himself off as he shook his head. The memories of his father eagerly telling him of the River Kings burning guiltily through him.
He ducked underneath an arch, eyeing the condition of the castle warily as he heard a sudden shifting of stone. His head turned quickly, swivelling to the source of the sound as his fingers tightened around the blade in his hands.
"Who goes there!" He shouted, his voice firm, fascination replaced with caution as he stepped forward into the arch, only to stop in wide eyed shock.
Aerion stood there, his back to him, a bloody sword held loosely in his hands as he suddenly planted it into a nearby wall. Marq eyed his form warily as he stayed well back from his friend.
Aerions hands gripped tightly around the hilt as he suddenly pulled, a hidden door suddenly revealed as it was pried open. Marq stepped back in shock, his eyes wide as Aerion walked into the now uncovered doorway, not even seeming to notice his presence.
Marq followed behind warily, his sword held tightly in his hands as he made his way down a narrow, hidden staircase. His eyes flicking around curiously, his brows furrowing when he noticed torchlight flickering gently at the bottom of the stairs.
His bloody friend's back was still to him, Marq felt a shiver run down his spine as he followed the young Knight into a small room, his eyes instantly fixating on a shining spiky bronze circlet placed elegantly on a podium.
"Prince Mudd" he murmured to himself in shock, that was most definitely the Mudd prince's circlet, his eyes wide in fascination as he stepped closer.
He almost gasped when Aerion carelessly grabbed the circlet and placed it atop his head, his eyes narrowed in outrage. He shot his gaze towards the young knight only for his breath to suddenly catch.
Aerion met his eyes, crimson blood ran down his pale face, his dark purple eyes almost glowing in the torchlight. Shadows seemed to flicker across his face, the spiky, bronze circlet almost perfectly nestled among his dark hair as a wild look was present in his eyes.
Marq almost wanted to take a step back, his body screaming at him to leave.
"Kneel" Aerion said, the bloody sword held loosely in his right hand as the bastard knight seemed to look down on Marq. He swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling oddly tight as he took a step back.
"What?" He shakily questioned the knight.
"Kneel" Aerion repeated firmly, a hint of his usual soft tone shining through. His eyes burned into Marqs wide, dilated green ones. The sword shook gently in Marqs hands as his wide eyes locked onto Aerions narrowed one.
Marq couldn't look away.
His mind raced, even just asking someone to kneel to him…with a crown upon his head—it was treason, it was a death sentence.
Aerion, a bastard, had just placed a prince's crown upon his head. He was claiming something dangerous, something that would have the Dragonlords themselves coming down here.
'Skinstealer' his mind seemed to whisper softly into his ears. He'd never believed the rumours, not until now, he could see the hints of a beast lurking beneath the human visage.
He swallowed, carefully he lowered his shaking sword. The torchlight seemed to crack and flicker at his decision. The air felt thin, almost as if the very air was gravitating towards Aerion, he clenched his jaw as his eyes ran over the younger knight.
He looked inevitable as if the world would bend to his will, would reshape itself around his vision. The circlet sat atop his head like it was forged for him in mind.
This is madness
Aerion wasn't a prince, he wasn't even a noble—but he stood there with the bronze, ancient crown as though he were more royal and than any true-born king.
And what was worse, Marq found himself almost believing it.
Another long moment of silence passed, shadows dancing across both of their illuminated forms.
The soft sound of Marq's knee dropping onto the stone floor echoed sharply through the small chamber. The flickering torches seemed to flare for but a brief moment, even fire seeming to bend to Aerions will.
—-
Thoughts? I feel like this chapter could make or break the whole story. You do have to remember though that current Aerion would never do this without the whole battle lust, animalistic instincts etc.
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-- 推薦票
榜單 
-- 推薦票