The Necromancer King (A Game Of Thrones)

Reflection

Later, during the evening.

The sky was covered by dark, menacing clouds. The moon itself had been dulled by the very same clouds, leading to a rather depressive mood among the residents of Volantis. It looked like it was going to rain cats and dogs soon... which certainly wasn't going to be pleasant.

Knowing that he had at least a week before Lord Stannis would reach King's Landing, Aerion didn't decide to fly straight to King's Landing. He used this spare time to reflect on the Trial of Valyria and how he would proceed moving forward which led to the subject of who he was becoming as a result of the journey.

Although it was no more than a trial, the actions that he committed would make the people who he considered despicable look like saints in comparison. With every excuse, he found himself falling deeper and deeper into a pit of darkness. It all began with the Mountain... and those who followed him around that time period. He killed for survival then. But now, he wouldn't even blink when burning a city of tens of thousands. Even if it was a trial... how long would it be until he did so outside of a trial?

Furthermore, he found himself becoming a prisoner of fate. Since the Night King's strength was far mightier than his own, he forced himself to go on the Journey to Valyria because he felt that it was his duty. It was not what he wanted to do but rather what he had to do for everyone else. In the end, he was pleased with the rewards that he had reaped... however, this feeling of gain did not last long.

'Why do I feel so empty... so unfulfilled...'

Aerion sighed as he opened his eyes and looked at the dark sky. Almost every day, he would put on a cheerful front and continue onwards. That way no one would realise and bother him with some lecture... he preferred to deal with matters by himself anyway.

Then it began to rain.

A few drops fell... which suddenly turned into an entire shower. The sky rumbled with lightning while the wind howled and roared, sounding like a fearsome wolf turned dragon. Aerion remained still on a bench in his garden, however, as the cold rain fell on his face. He was the one who asked to be undisturbed... and here he was. Undisturbed and alone.

A small three-headed black dragon descended from the skies with a whole charred rabbit between all three of its heads. It dropped the rabbit beside him like a dog who had fetched a ball and returned it to the master.

Aerion chuckled.

"You have started to hunt on your own, huh?"

The dragon nodded as if it understood what he said. It grabbed the rabbit by its teeth once more and placed into Aerion's hands.

'No way in seven hells I'm going to eat that...'

He threw it in the air, right above the dragon. It leapt into the air, catching the rabbit before it could fall onto the ground. Aerion was both amused and impressed by the dragon's growth. And his own attachment towards the dragon, as well. It was like his own child... but a dragon. He had given life to it and watched the dragon grow before his eyes, day by day. It was a strange yet unbreakable bond that they shared.

One the dragon caught the rabbit, it started to feast.

"There are so many wonderful dragon names... hmm... what about Vermithor?"

He had given it some thought beforehand. Indeed, there were many wonderful dragon names but Aerion had always admired Jaehaerys I Targaryen, whom he considered the greatest Targaryen King, and the dragon by his side was none other than Vermithor the Bronze Fury. Also, in his opinion, Vermithor simply sounded mightier than the rest.

In terms of appearance, however, the name 'Blackfyre' was all too perfect. It was a three-headed black dragon, after all. But Aerion was not too fond of that name due to its connection to House Blackfyre.