Chapter Text
On the road we cut through the heart of a forest, grateful for the scant shade the trees provided. Even so, we were roasting. There were said to be deer in those parts, but the only living creatures we saw were flies.
They buzzed around my face as we rode and swarmed near Thunder’s eyes, irritating him beyond endurance. The great warhorse tossed his head, annoyed, snorting with pent-up fury. The air was still, thick, suffocating. At least the days were dry; at night, by contrast, it grew so cold that I shivered inside my cloak. In the Reach, nights were barely cooler than the days. Here, the world seemed determined to punish us at every hour.
We had been living like this for days. We slept in inns when we could, under crooked roofs and in flea-ridden beds, but now we were far too distant from anything that could be called civilization. There were no clear roads, no nearby villages, no smoke on the horizon.
“I’ll fetch water,” Egg announced at last, when we found a clearing decent enough to stop in.
He did not wait for an answer. He took an empty waterskin and vanished among the trees, leaving us alone once more. I watched him go and felt that familiar weight settle in my chest: being left alone with Aerion.
“We should hunt something,” I said, more to break the silence than out of hunger. “We won’t last long on hard bread.”
“Speak for yourself,” he replied. “I have no intention of crawling through the woods like a peasant.”
Even so, he dismounted.
We moved through the trees with clumsy steps, scaring off anything alive long before we ever saw it.
“You make too much noise,” he muttered. “If there were any deer, they’d already be at the far end of the realm.”
“If you knew how to keep quiet,” I shot back, “we might have better luck.”
“You know what? I’d rather die alone in this forest than keep traveling with someone so idiotic. You’re worse than a sheep, at least they know how to follow a path.”
I stopped. We stared at each other for a long moment, taut as ropes about to snap. Then we turned back, heading for the camp.
As we were about to reach it, I heard the sound of unfamiliar voices. I raised my hand to make him stop. Aerion knocked it aside with a sharp swipe.
“I heard them already,” he whispered. “Three of them, I think.”
“Wait,” I told him.
“No.”
We went on, and then we saw them: men around our belongings, rifling through the saddlebags, crude knives and swords hanging at their waists. They weren’t mercenaries, but they were armed enough to be dangerous.
“Perfect,” he murmured. “I was bored.”
“Don’t do anything,” I warned him.
“Don’t give me orders.”
One of the men saw us first.
“Look at that,” he said, looking us up and down. “And what do we have here?”
“Step away from our things,” I said, setting my hand on the hilt of my sheathed sword. Aerion stepped forward, hands clasped behind his back.
“Or you’ll die,” he added, with a cruel smile.
“Shut up,” I hissed through clenched teeth.
“Don’t give me orders.”
The man in charge burst out laughing.
“Look at these two lovers. Aren’t they a pretty sight? It’d be a shame to separate the good knight from his lady,” he laughed, that sharp, ugly laugh. “Though I can’t say which is which.”
I felt my blood heat, but before I could answer, Aerion smiled and dipped his head.
“Maybe you could be the whore,” he said. “And if you weren’t so hideous, I might even fuck you for a coin.”
There was a second of absolute silence. Then the man cleared his throat and spat on the ground.
“Kill them.”
My sword came down in a brutal arc. I felt the impact in the first man’s shoulder, bone giving way, a wet scream cut short as I drove forward and sent him crashing to the ground.
Then I looked at Aerion, and that glance froze me for a second too long.
He dodged the spear as if he knew exactly where it would fall before the man even thought to move his arm. He pivoted on his heel, his tunic smearing with dirt, and his dagger flashed once. The thief dropped to his knees, but Aerion didn’t stop.
He grabbed him by the hair, yanked his head back, and opened his throat with clean precision, as if drawing a line across parchment. Blood poured out in dark spurts, soaking his hand.
And that second almost cost me my face.
A fist slammed straight into me, flashing white across my vision. I dropped to my knees, the world spinning. I heard someone laugh far too close.
“You got distracted, knight.”
I raised my sword on pure instinct. Blocked a knife meant for my throat and shoved with all my weight. I smashed him against a tree. I heard the dry crack of ribs breaking. I drove my sword into the man’s belly and twisted. The sound was awful, flesh giving way, a groan that turned into bubbling. I let him fall. When I looked up, Aerion was finishing off the last one.
It wasn’t quick. He’d buried his dagger in the man’s thigh first. The thief screamed, crawling away, leaving a red trail across the grass. Aerion walked after him calmly, breathing hard, his eyes glowing like embers.
“I told you,” he whispered, “you would die.”
Aerion planted a foot on his back and drove the dagger between his shoulder blades, pushing until the body gave one final shudder.
Then there was silence, broken only by our breathing and the buzz of flies. I let myself drop to the ground, exhausted, my face burning where I’d been struck.
Aerion collapsed too, a few paces away. On his back.
“Well,” he said between gasps, “I’ll admit they nearly killed me.”
Then I heard hurried footsteps.
“I found water!” Egg’s voice rang out. “And I brought fish!”
He burst out of the trees, stopped dead at the sight of the wrecked camp, the bodies, the blood. His mouth fell open, eyes huge.
“Oh… seven hells,” he whispered.
He stumbled forward and the waterskin slipped from his hands. The water spilled completely onto the earth, darkening it. Egg let out a small, strangled sound and ran toward one of the bodies.
Aerion, still sprawled on the ground, barely turned his head.
“Oh, great,” he said. “You take forever… and you spill our water.”
✧ ˖ ✦ ˚ ⋆ ✩ ⋆ ˚ ✦ ˖ ✧
The forest at night was another world.
The fire crackled low, just enough to keep the shadows at bay. We had eaten the fish in silence. Egg fell asleep, exhausted, wrapped in his cloak like a puppy. We had agreed on the watch. Aerion was meant to go first, but I couldn’t sleep.
The cold crept in even inside the tent, and every time I closed my eyes I ended up giving in. I slipped out quietly, careful not to make a sound.
Aerion was sitting by the fire.
He wasn’t really keeping watch, just sitting there, his sword resting at his side, his face lit by the orange glow. He looked like an ancient statue, carved to be beautiful even in ruin.
“I didn’t know you snored so loudly,” he said without looking at me.
“I wasn’t snoring,” I growled.
I came closer and sat at a prudent distance. The fire’s warmth felt good on my face, but it wasn’t enough to chase the cold away completely. A long while passed before he spoke again.
“You should go back to sleep, or I’ll take the whole watch.”
Silence settled between us again, heavy but not uncomfortable. I cleared my throat.
“Aerion…” I began, already regretting it. “Why do you do all this?”
He didn’t turn.
“All of what? Standing watch? I didn’t have much choice.”
“Traveling like this. Sleeping on the ground. Eating cold fish. Putting up with me.” I shrugged. “It’s not exactly comfortable. And you’re not someone who loves discomfort.”
“There are men who travel for penance,” he said. “Others for glory. Others because they don’t know how to stay still.” He raised an eyebrow. “I suppose I’m a boring mix of all three.”
“That doesn’t answer anything.”
“Most interesting answers don’t.”
He snorted and added, as if talking about the weather,
“Besides, doesn’t *The Life of Hugor of the Hill* say that the true punishment isn’t exile, but the impossibility of return?”
I blinked. Most of the time I didn’t know what he was talking about, or whether he was being sarcastic just to mock me.
“Who?”
He had been staring into the fire until then. Finally, he looked at me.
“Hugor. The book.” He frowned. “You don’t know it?”
I shook my head slowly.
“I don’t read much, I mean…” I scratched the back of my neck. “I can read just enough. My name, some signs, basic prayers. But books… no.”
The fire cracked loudly, as if trying to cover the silence that fell all at once. Aerion watched me closely, and I saw mockery forming in his expression. I braced myself for the blow, looking away, but it never came.
“That explains a lot,” he said.
“If you’re going to mock me, just do it.”
“No.” He shook his head. “That would be boring. Besides…” He shrugged. “It’s not that strange. Many men can’t read. Most of them just don’t admit it.”
“I could teach you,” he added casually. “If you wanted.”
I stared at him, startled. I had expected any insult or joke, but not that.
“You? Teach me?”
“Don’t make that face,” he replied. “Not all my talents are limited to being unbearable.”
The fire reflected gold in his violet eyes.
“I’ll think about it,” I said at last.
“Do,” he answered. “Thinking does you good. Even if it doesn’t show.”
We fell silent again.
The forest breathed around us. The fire stayed alive. And for the first time since we set out, I didn’t feel that Aerion Targaryen was so far from me.