Chapter Text
Aerion could not believe the brat’s words; Aegon could have been easily lying. Ugh. Yet he was so persistent, panicked, worried, and almost frightened when he spoke of what transpired during his stupid little adventures with that giant flea bag of Flea Bottom, Ser Duncan the Tall.
The boy had raced all the way to Summerhall to deliver the news, though; he came alone, which meant something must’ve happened.
As much as Aerion displeased the oaf, he knew Duncan would not just let Aegon wander on his own; he swore to protect the boy, and he had done a good job of it that Father trusted him enough with Aegon. Something must’ve happened… Perhaps Aegon was telling the truth.
Aerion’s eyebrows pinched between his forehead as he stared at the candlelight in the dimly lit chamber before he swallowed thickly and glanced at his entwined fingers.
It was already past midnight; Aegon came five hours ago. Father was happy to see him; angry when he realized Ser Duncan the Dumb wasn’t with the boy, but calmed when Aegon explained what tragic accident had happened to the knight…
A dragon, the prudent boy cried to Father. Ser Duncan had been transformed into a dragon.
Aerion’s heart had stilled for a second or two when Aegon spoke, but ultimately he had laughed in his younger brother’s face before Father glanced in his direction with a frown and scolded him for his insolent behaviour, considering Aegon was on the verge of tears. When he quieted down, and Aegon disregarded him, and continued to spout his nonsense, a surely made-up story to Father, Aerion couldn’t help himself, and listened quietly and with interest:
They were on their travels to the Reach when they encountered a witch. Aegon said she appeared as if she had been on the brink of death when they spotted her. She had asked for water, but they had none to offer, and bitterness brewed in her bones, and she cast a spell on Duncan out of pure spite before her eyes went shut. But before that—because she didn’t know them—she laughed and said that only a Targaryen would be able to quiet the curse, but not break it.
Aegon didn’t know what it meant, but if it was true, Aerion had an inkling. Yet, he questioned it. His tongue had slipped when he asked his brother what he meant; Aegon said: The witch said Ser Duncan must mate a Targaryen to quiet the curse and turn him back into himself.
The room went quiet then; no one spoke. Not Father, not Aegon—neither Darion, nor their two sisters.
Ultimately, Father didn’t seem to believe Aegon’s words; it was indeed absurd, but he sent out several knights to go look for the giant to quiet Aegon's sobs and assured the boy they would find Duncan. Although Aegon kept quiet, the look on his face showed that he didn’t believe Father’s words, or he didn’t believe the knights would find Duncan.
Aerion had left for his chamber then, wordless as something like fire simmered in his insides with equal outrage and fascination.
He was a dragon; if it was true, it was unfair! Why did that pathetic oaf get what should’ve been his? But then… if it was true, and Duncan needed to mate a Targaryen, it meant that if Aerion got his hands on him, he would be able to possess a dragon… a dragon shapeshifter. Surely the words, quiet the curse but not break, meant as such. Of course. The stupid Heidge Knight would be his, and he would do his best to let Duncan know. He was the prince after all; it was his birthright to get what he wanted. And if Duncan could shapeshift… Aerion’s eyes lit up. He could potentially birth dragons of his own. He would undoubtedly be unstoppable and powerful.
The Alpha knight was such a self-righteous cunt, though.
Would he even want to mate with Aerion?
The oaf didn’t know Aerion was an Omega until after the piss-poor tall bastard bested him and forced him to yield three years ago in the tourney in Ashford when his scent spiked from the defeat. But it meant nothing. Duncan didn’t like him, especially since the knight blamed him for causing his uncle, Baelor’s, death. But the oaf should be grateful that Aerion was willing to bed him; even if he was a dragon, the hedge knight was a low-born. It was a privilege that Aerion even wanted him to begin with, and he would do his best to remind Ser Duncan the Dumb.
Aerion sighed and thought of what he must do.
Word would spread when the knights returned with nothing, or maybe returned with tales of spotting a dragon. Every man, woman, and child across the Seven Kingdoms would be curious. Everyone with Targaryen blood would seek after Duncan, and if the oaf were desperate, which he must’ve been, he would bed any Targaryen who sought him out. Even Father would be tempted to send Derion to Duncan because Aerion was too temperamental, apparently. Father wouldn’t trust him with a dragon; nobody would. He’d show them.
Then it was settled.
Aerion knew he must act… and fast. But first, he needed answers to many questions that only Aegon would be able to tell. Seven hells; he would get nowhere with that little rat.