Sworn Fate // Aegon Targaryen II

Chapter 10

Aegon had asked Aerion why he thought Daemon was capable of killing Laenor. At the time, he hadn't dared to answer the question. His reason was dark and ugly, but ultimately simple. If Aerion had been Daemon, and he'd arrived at Driftmark to find Aegon married to someone else, Aerion couldn't say with certainty he wouldn't kill whoever stood between him and Aegon. Even the mere contemplation of someone attempting to take Aegon from him made his chest tighten with anxiety and rage.

Targaryens weren't known for temperance, Daemon least of all. But just because Aerion could understand Daemon's motives didn't mean he forgave him. He'd taken Aerion's father from him and for that, he had to be punished.

He froze as he heard the bedroom door creak open followed by Daemon's footsteps striding across the stone floor. A small flicker of light appeared on the far side of the room as Daemon lit a candle. Aerion hardly dared to breathe as he slowly turned his head to watch Daemon unstrap the sword belt around his waist and rest it against the wall inches away from the bed.

Aerion's heart beat desperately in his ears and he forced himself to close his eyes. At least his mother hadn't come in with Daemon. He wouldn't have been able to endure that sort of nightmare. He listened as Daemon continued to move about the room as he got ready for bed.

After only a few minutes, Daemon made his way over to the bed and laid down, extinguishing the candle and the last remnant of light in the room. Silence stretched as Aerion waited for Daemon to fall asleep. It was strange to be laying there, right below Daemon with the other man completely unaware of his presence.

The urge to creep out from underneath the bed and slash Daemon's throat to finally end this whole affair raised its dark head. Aerion pushed it down. He'd kill a man, but he refused to break a promise he'd made to Aegon.

Instead, he forced himself to be patient and listen as Daemon's breathing eventually lulled into the steady breaths of deep sleep. Even when Aerion was completely certain Daemon was asleep, he remained frozen underneath the bed. Despite all the planning he'd done, now that the moment was here, he suddenly felt terrified and more like the child he truly was than ever before.

But if he didn't get justice for Laenor, who would? Nobody else suspected Daemon and if Aerion didn't do something, his father's murderer would continue to walk free, smirking at Aerion and pretending like he hadn't broken a part of Aerion's heart forever.

Holding the memory of his father's face tightly in his mind, Aerion slowly slid out from under the bed, doing his best to remain completely silent. Outside, the wind continued to roar which gave him a bit of cover as he pushed himself to his feet.

Aerion took a step forward, ignoring the figure on the bed and instead closing his hand around the sword leaning against the wall. As he carefully lifted the blade that still rested in its scabbard, he was surprised to find Dark Sister was lighter than he'd expected. He'd never held a sword made of Valyrian steel before. He supposed he'd expected the sword that had once belonged to the great Visenya Targaryen to be impossible for someone like him to wield.

If he couldn't take Daemon's life, then this was the next best thing. He would use the sword to force Daemon to tell him the truth. He placed the letter he'd already written carefully on Daemon's bedside table next to the extinguished candle. He creeped over to the hallway door, easing it open as gently as he could. Here at Dragonstone, Daemon didn't have guards posted to both ends of the corridor or outside his room. He assumed he was safe this deep in Dragonstone's ancient walls.

Perhaps he was safe from outsiders, but Daemon wasn't safe from the dangers that already lurked within. Aerion stepped into the hallway and turned, delivering a decisive kick to send the heavy oak door of Daemon's room hurtling shut with a loud slam.