Chapter Text
Since he can remember, the gods have blessed him with strange dreams.
Of brothers he did not possess.
And tales of dragons long gone.
Of madness. And anger.
And the sickness in his mind.
He dreamed of gulping wildfire.
The young prince often awoke in cold sweet and tears of disappointment.
Aerion Targaryen, the name gifted by his mother Aemma. A name that beholds his connection to the air, as all Targaryen's have on Dragonback. Closer to the gods than to mortal man.
A name pursuing nobility in another life. But Aerion was anything but noble. He was regal, yes. But his personality was fiery and cruel most of the times.
Always, he told himself. Always but with her.
His eyes crossed the so beloved lilac eyes of his dear sister. Their ancient Valyrian bloodline so plainly in her burning eyes.
Paired with the long silver hair, she was nothing less than breathtaking.
Rhaenyra Targaryen, first of her name, his twin sister. The only one able in dimming his temper. But now, her own gaze was fierce. Burning with anger, that suited her nicely. Her extraordinary eyes filled with cruelty.
He adored her when she was angry.
Births within theyre bloodline were rare. He knew of that better than anyone. His grandmother died shortly after giving birth to his mother. And his mother died in Labour.
Aemma Tagaryen birthed him and his sister. A miracle, if he trusted the words of the masters. The twins in his bloodline could be counted on one of his bloody hands.
But still, his father was not content with them. His sister, a girl, and he himself blessed with madness and fire.
Non of them suitable for the iron throne.
His mother soft-hearted and loyal was pregnant with other heirs four more times. Dying with the last, when he himself was only fifteen.
He was never able to forgive his father for her death.
Nor for marrying his sisters old friend, Alicent Hightower, shorty after.
Alicent who was content pressing out heirs and whispering false nothingness in the ears of the king.
He followed his twin sisters eyes, still burning brightly and found the cruel ones of his step mother on the other side, plastered in an soft smile. But he wasn't stupid enough to believe her and her niceness.
A true dragon could sense a snake after all.
„Rhaenyra is coming of age. It's time for her to marry. Isn't it?", Alicents words are dipped in venom and his knuckles turned white as he clutched his dagger stronger.
„She is only seventeen.", the king, his father Viserys, answered as he gulped down the blood red wine of his.
„I was seventeen, when we married. Don't you remember, my love?", Alicent was very intent on further inflaming his anger. He could literally feel the fury growing in his chest like dragonflame.
He wanted to slit her throat. Insulting. Not only to his sister, but to him as well. He would never share her, after all.
„We all remember, your grace. No need to remind any of us.", his voice powerful. „But my sister is in no need to marry some mere lord. As she is in no need to fuck a nobleman to climb the ladder of power. As you well know, she is already a true born dragon."
His dagger slammed on top of a walnut, breaking it in shards. He loved the sound of things breaking. Much more would he prefer to split the head of his step-mother in two.
Alicent, now pale as a ghost, eyes wide and wriggly on her chair, was afraid to cross his eyes.
They all were, sooner or later. There was something unsettling about them. About the flames in his dark indigo eyes. All but Nyra. Never Nyra.
His beloved sister straightened her back. Her eyes still fierce, as she mimicked him. More confident now, that he spoke on her behalf.
„She should marry. All girls her age do.", Alicent tried again, coaxing his father, but her voice was now softer, almost shaking.
„No.", his voice hard as valyrian steel. Unforgiving, as the handle of his dagger snapped down, piercing the shell of the nut so strongly that the blade shattered in the table beneath and cups and plates began to rattle.
All eyes were on him now.
„And what about you? Perhaps I shall marry my firstborn son of, to weaken his temper." Viserys voice was full of threat as his voice boomed through the room.
„Hah!" Aerions snarl was menacing.
„No. I refuse."
He laughed without humor, as he twirled his knife. Letting the sharp dagger slip and with a forceful strike the pointed end was pound inside the table.
His burning eyes found his most beloved possessions. His sister, sitting right next to him, unbothered by his antics. She didn't even flinch.
Oh how beloved she was. His and his alone, made only for him. The gods knew that there was no person like her, born to love even his darkest of thoughts.
She was made to be his. And he was made for her too.
There was the softest of smiles, rippling the corners of her pretty mouth, as she smiled at him brightly. Her eyes rimmed in hope and adoration.
There was silence after. Heavy with thoughts, as Aerion absorbed the presence of his twin. He could live and die next to her, without a second thought, if she ordered him to.
He held her gaze and his fingers found hers under the table. Holding on to her thight, as he did so often before. He would do anything to see her happy and content.
And he would rip any man apart, that dared to touch her.
„Of course.", was Alicents bitter answer. „Let us be finished.". Her gaze lingered a little to long on the twins, before she went silent and began to eat again.
Viserys did not dare speak, unsure how to settle peace between the fronts. So nothing was said afterwards, much to his liking dare he say.
After the dinner and the heavy silence that divided his family ever since his father choose to remarry, Aerion was second to leave. Beaten only by his sister who apologized politely, instead of leaving with a silent warning, as he did.
He trailed after her, ever the dutiful shadow since birth and followed her quietly through the castle. His eyes followed her every step, hand on his sword, always ready to protect her.
In his presence, no kingsguard was needed and so they went alone in the meager light of the candles.
They stopped in a dark corner, out of sight of curious eyes and settled against the cool stone wand.
„Thank you.", Nyras voice soft and small, kind in a way that was only meant for him and him alone.
His fingers found hers once again and he laced them together. Perfect pieces, perfectly fitting for each other.
Ever since they reached their fifteenth namesday he had grown rapidly. His twin sister, always bigger then him had become small and frail. Her hands lost in his.
To meet her eyes he was in need of looking down. He hated and loved it all the same. Hated, how small she seemed. How weak, even if she was anything but. He hated the way it made him look superior.
But he loved the way her head fitted so perfectly in the spot between his chest and chin. How her nose would touch his pulse. How her breath would fan over his skin.
Loved the way he could protect her. The way he could carry her to worlds end.
He smiled. One of this rare honest smiles that were only ever meant for her, as he lowers himself. Touched her cheek so careful. Slid his thumb over her wobbling lip.
„Careful, dearest sister. Don't let the bitch sour your mood.", he got on his knees. Cloaked in the shadows of night. But still. Anyone could interrupt them.
It didn't matter. Not right now. Should they dare.
He would gladly relieve them of the burden to carry a heavy head.
On his knees, finger laced with hers, eyes locked into Nyras he felt truly content. Peaceful even.
„Do not frighten. Not one of this stupid mortal man will ever touch you." He kissed her knuckles and Rhaenyra sighed heavy at his words. A bright pink flush settling beautifully on her nose and cheeks.
How pretty.
„I'm afraid, Aerion. I know a dragon shall never be afraid but I am, truly. I do not wish to marry."
He wanted to kill something. He often did but now his mind was a mess and everything he cared about was bloodshed.
„Oh my sweet sister. Don't be. You will always have me and I will protect you from all sorrow. Promise.", he would bring her even closer. Let his forehead rest against her lower belly. Right now he didn't worry about proper.
Silence welcomed them like an old friend. It was not strange nor unsettling, like it was more times than not with his father and Alicent. It was peaceful.
They bathed in each others company, before he would take her hand again and lead her back to her bedchambers. Opening the heavy door for her, he waited politely outside.
„Come on in, Aerion.", her words only a whisper but he followed her orders no matter the vigor. He stepped inside softly, before closing the door and locking it again.
Nyra was already on her mirror, combing her hair.
„Let me.", he would take the comb and carefully unravel the strands, before braiding a single silver braid which hung to the low of her back.
He often did it for her. It was calming.
„I hate her." Nyras words so softly, he almost didn't hear. And even as he did, his breath would catch. As much as he himself hated Alicent, his sister would never say something as cruel.
But Alicent had an habit to ruin things. Taken the dinner. It wasn't a first and he did not believe to be it a last, that means, if he did not kill her in the next couple of hours.
„She wanted to ire you. She does that a lot. I hate it, you know.", he answered honestly and placed his hands on her shoulders. Catching her eyes in the reflection of the mirror.
The purple hues let them seem godlike.
„I know. It's stupid."
„Your feelings aren't stupid, Nyra."
She huffed.
„Of course they are. It's childish. I shall not let myself be angered as easily."
Now it was his time to huff.
„You are blood of the dragon. Fire made flash. And what is fire if not anger. You have nothing to be sorry about."
„Perhaps. Perhaps not. I do not know what to believe anymore." Her answer honest as she leaned in his chest once again. The back of her head so wonderfully fitting against him.
„Me neither." He kissed the top of her silver hair. Loving the way it would catch the light. Starlight made human.
„Are you dreaming again?"
The change of topic would stop his wandering thoughts. As did her hand, catching his on her shoulder blades.
For a moment he was back in a dream. Looking thought his own eyes. But it was a different time and different people would judge his madness, for true born dragons were long gone.
„Always. My mind seems restless. Even in sleep."
„What was it about? Your dream?", her words full of understanding, no one else seems to possess. Not with him at least.
He gulped. The sound loud and rough as so much was with him. He turned his eyes away from her. Unable to hold her gaze any longer. Not without doing something rash.
„I -", he stopped himself. Gulped again. Before being able to speak up. „Of wildfire, dear sister. About madness consuming me. Of you long gone and the memory's that stay with me. Turning me furious. Of the gods. And the loneliness that made me consume it. The burning."
A single tear would leave his dark indigo eyes, silent as always. His sister, the only living person he allowed to see his sorrow.
Rhaenyra rose. And for a moment he was afraid she would leave him once again. As she did so often in the nightmares of his. But not his Nyra. Never, as she would face him. So much smaller. So much lovelier than him, despite them being twins.
Her hands, warm and comforting against his cheeks as she rose to the tips of her feed and pressed her forehead against his.
„I'm sorry. I can not imagine the burden you bear. But I promise, I will not leave you. Never.", her voice, fanning over his lips. Split once again from a fight long forgotten.
Soothing enough to cam his bloody heart.
„That is -", she whispered and the burning of anger broke over him once again. Almost as consuming as the wildfire in his nightmare of a dream.
„If father is not to marry me off." Her eyes full of sorrow. Full of pain he could not bear.
„He will not dare to take you from me.", he lifted her chin, his eyes soft, burning with something they both would not name.
„Thank you."
She trusted in his word enough to believe him without question.
„Do not thank me. My beloved sister. Perhaps a time will come and you will hate me for it."
A kiss as soft as a whisper, shared in secret and in shadow, was placed on Rhaenyra Tagaryens cheek and even through it pained him, he went to leave her alone.
„Don't.", her voice quiet but even. A command worthy a queen. He did not dare to resist. Dug his shoes in the stone and plastered himself to the very ground.
„Stay. Stay with me. Please. Just for the night." A lie. But a beautiful one. Filling him with heat and burning.
A sigh left his lips and without another word he would cross the room. Strip himself from his clothes, regal and costly and tossed them to the side without care. Only in his breeches he made himself at home, her bed as well known as his own.
His eyes to the ceiling he could hear Nyra ruffle with her own clothing, before she would change herself in a nightgown. He did not dare move.
Shortly after, she would slip in the bed, ruffling between the sheets and fur, before halting on his side. Bedding her head on his chest once again, she would look to the ceiling too.
Eyes of purple blinking up to the sky.
More often than not they found themself in this position. Unable to be separated. Even in sleep. Even in dreams. He needed her warmth to find comfort in the silence.
„Sleep well, Nyra.", a kiss to her hair. Soft and careful, before he would toss a blanket over her.
She mumbled. Unable to speak any longer, almost asleep, when he still was vividly awake.
His thoughts again dark and dull with sorrow. A burning he did not know deep inside his chest.
It was almost morning when he found condolence in sleep himself. But it was a nightmare once again, which haunted him.