MTLNOVEL Chapter 8: The Dragon’s Heir
Chapter 8: The Dragon's Heir
Prince Aerion Targaryen
Three years had passed since the Targaryen fleet had sailed across the narrow sea, fleeing the destruction of Dragonstone. Now, in the heart of Volantis, the last of House Targaryen's bloodline grew in both strength and wisdom.
Aerion Targaryen, now six years old, had grown into a striking child, his beauty surpassing even that of his forebears. His silver-gold hair, a trademark of his bloodline, shimmered with the same ethereal glow of the dragons, and his violet eyes held a depth far beyond his years. He moved through the streets of Volantis with an air of grace and nobility that drew the attention of all who saw him. Though only a child, Aerion had an otherworldly charm—his smile was warm, his words carefully chosen, and he had already earned the respect of those around him.
The boy had begun his training in earnest. Ser Barristan Selmy, the knight who had sworn to protect him, had become his constant companion, teaching him the ways of the sword. Though Aerion was small for his age, his natural grace and skill with a blade were already apparent. It was said that Aerion could move with the speed and precision of someone far older, and his focus during training was unmatched. Barristan, ever the vigilant teacher, was pleased with the progress the boy made, though he knew that Aerion had a destiny far greater than any swordplay could shape.
But his training was not confined to the arts of war alone. Aerion had begun to study the teachings of the Red Priests who had taken root in Volantis. Thoros of Myr, the red priest who had long been a friend of the Targaryens, spent hours with Aerion, teaching him of the Lord of Light and the mysterious forces that moved through the world. Aerion was fascinated by the fire-worshipping faith, feeling an odd pull toward it, as if the flames themselves whispered secrets meant only for him, but he also was an follower of the seven, because of ser Guncers influence. The Prince was torn back and forth between the Red God and the Seven who are one.
At the same time, rumors spread through Volantis of Maester Marwyn, a learned scholar from the Citadel who had come seeking ancient knowledge of Valyria. Marwyn's studies had captured the curiosity of Aerion, who was eager to learn more of the lost magics that had once flowed through the Valyrian Freehold. The maester was said to have delved into forbidden texts, seeking the answers to the mysteries of the world, and many believed he was close to discovering the secrets of the ancient dragons.
While Aerion was growing in knowledge and strength, life in Volantis had its own stories to tell. Monford Velaryon and Aurane Waters, now seasoned young leaders, had taken a position of command of the Lost Legion, a group of Valyrian descendants who had come together to serve as mercenaries. Their ranks had swelled to over 11,000 soldiers, all eager for coin and adventure. The Lost Legion had been dispatched to various parts of the Free Cities, and their growing reputation had earned them both wealth and infamy.
Though Aerion had not yet learned the full weight of his family's obligations, he knew that the Lost Legion played a significant role in the fate of his house. When the time came, Aerion would be expected to make decisions that could either restore House Targaryen or further plunge it into ruin. But for now, his focus was on his training, his understanding of both the sword and the mysteries of the world.
One morning, as the sun rose over the rooftops of Volantis, Aerion stood in the training yard, preparing for his daily lessons. Ser Barristan had made it clear that Aerion's training should continue without distraction, but this day would prove to be different. A visitor had arrived—Clement Celtigar, the young heir of House Celtigar, was his closest friend
At eleven years old, Clement had become a young man before his time. His family had lost much during the great storm of 284, when Clements father Adrian Celtigar, the Lord of Claw Isle had died along Lucerys Velaryon, the Lord of the tides and Driftmark, in the Storm at Dragonstone. Now, Clement was a boy marked by tragedy, though his spirit remained strong.
Ser Barristan stood at the edge of the yard, observing the sparring match between Aerion and Clement. Though Aerion was younger, he was quick and light on his feet, and there was a confidence in his movements that belied his age. On the other hand, Clement, though larger and stronger, lacked the grace of Aerion. His form was rough, shaped more by necessity than practice.
The two boys faced each other, their swords raised in anticipation. The clash of blades rang out as they met in combat, the sound echoing across the courtyard. Aerion danced around Clement, weaving and parrying with effortless precision. Clement, determined but frustrated, pressed forward with brute strength, trying to land a blow.
It didn't take long before Aerion, using his agility, sidestepped Clement's strike and knocked his opponent off balance, sending him sprawling to the ground.
"You've improved," Aerion said, offering a hand to help Clement to his feet.
Clement took the offered hand, pulling himself up. "You're a demon with that sword," he muttered with a grin. "I'll need to work twice as hard to catch up."
Ser Barristan, who had been watching intently, nodded approvingly. "Well done, both of you. You'll make fine warriors yet, though you have much to learn. Aerion, you're quick—remember, agility is just as important as strength. Clement, you have the strength of a lion. But you must learn to wield it with purpose."
The two boys, though rivals, shared a bond forged in their training. They knew that they would one day have to face the hardships of a broken world, but for now, they could enjoy the simplicity of friendship.
As Aerion continued his training, it became increasingly clear that the boy was destined for something greater than any of them had imagined. His beauty, his skill with a sword, and his otherworldly charm made him a figure of great significance—even if he did not yet understand the full weight of it.
In the coming months, there would be much for him to learn, and many paths would be laid before him. Would he follow the teachings of the Red Priests, whose faith seemed to call to him in ways he didn't understand? Or would he delve into the mysteries of Valyria, guided by the eccentric Maester Marwyn? What role would the Lost Legion play in his future? And would the dragon's blood rise again, leading to the restoration of House Targaryen?
The answers were still far from clear. But one thing was certain: Aerion Targaryen, the best hope of his family, would one day have the power to shape the future of Westeros.
And his journey had only just begun.