Evie!

Evie she/her MDNI ♛

[padfootasoiaf]

Hey!

hi i'm Evie and i write fanfics that often include the main character as an OC.

My main fandoms are Game of thrones, house of the dragon, a knight of the seven kingdoms and marauders.

When it comes to my fics im gonna be honest i do tend to mix the asoiaf universe up just a little. For instance i like to take characters we see in akotsk and place them in original game of thrones universe. Its just more fun sue me!

I will take requests but im a very busy girl im afraid so if my shcedual is a bit uneven im sorry!!! However the first fic im thinking of posting...(Aerion Targeryan x OC) is actually almost finished so i can release that without delay!

Aerion Targeryan x OC fic masterlist:

https://www.tumblr.com/padfootasoiaf/813508255308496896/blood-of-the-dragon?source=share

thanks for reading and hopefully you enjoy my fics!

[islafigs]

(Adult) Rhae Targaryen my favourite diva 💕 she’s obviously taken after dada Maekar and big bro Aerion

[wolfienation]

she was so happy to help mummy commit high treason. "i will not have any beast harmed😁" helaena dont make unnecessary journeys stay away from windows

[aegonette]

what that mean? 🏳️‍🌈🧐

[padfootasoiaf]

am i the only one tickled about the fact that Maekar didn't have to borrow any armour? he had his own full set with him😭 was my guy planning on partaking? or did he just assume Aerion would manage to get himself into a fight x

[padfootasoiaf]

Blood of the dragon-chapter 11

Hey guys so this chapter is quite fast pace, a small warning that Aelora does give birth so there is a description of that. Its nothing to graphic t all but it's definetely there. enjoy!

The morning of the christening dawned crisp and bright, the Red Keep alive with a flurry of preparation. Every corridor echoed with the shuffling of servants, the polishing of silver, and the scent of incense drifting from the sept. The city itself had been transformed for the occasion; every inn and shop along the streets leading to the Red Keep was decorated with banners bearing the Targaryen sigil, and the markets seemed to hum with anticipation. Even the smallfolk, normally bustling with life, gave the streets a wide berth, their eyes wary as they glimpsed the approaching members of the royal family. The presence of twenty-five Targaryens was a spectacle few had seen before, and I could see the tension in their glances, intimidated, and perhaps a little resentful of the wealth and power gathered within our walls.

Inside the sept, the atmosphere was equally grand. Candles flickered in golden holders, illuminating the intricate stained-glass windows that threw rainbows across the stone floors. The high vaulted ceilings echoed with the quiet hum of hymns and the soft murmur of prayers. Aerion and I arrived together, he was impeccable, in a dark tunic embroidered with subtle silver accents, his hair shining like molten silver in the morning light. Around him, his cousins and family arranged themselves, each dressed in their finest, every movement precise and deliberate, the weight of generations of Targaryens evident in their posture and gaze.

The ceremony began with solemnity and reverence, the High Septon’s voice carrying through the sept as he recited blessings over the infant, who lay swaddled in silk and velvet. I knelt beside Aerion, hands folded over mine, feeling the warmth of his presence, the quiet steadiness that belied the enormity of his responsibilities. The family participated with careful formality, the cousins shifting slightly to accommodate the rituals, aunts and uncles bowing and whispering prayers, while I stole glances at Aerion and caught him watching me, his violet eyes softening in ways no one else could see.

Outside the sept, the city had come alive in celebration. The streets were lined with cheering crowds, though there were also glimpses of hesitation in some of the faces, the smallfolk unsure of how to approach the majesty and wealth that filled the Red Keep. Many looked at us with respect, others with envy, but overall, the day was a pleasant one, a rare reprieve from the usual tension that surrounded the Targaryen family. Aerion handled each moment with ease, acknowledging greetings with a slight nod, and I could see him quietly earning the trust of those around him.

After the ceremony, we returned to the keep for a more intimate gathering. Tables were laden with rich foods and delicate desserts, and the air was filled with the murmur of conversation and soft laughter. Toasts were raised once more to the new Targaryen, the child who represented the future of the dynasty, and Aerion’s cousins continued to tease him gently, though always with respect, as the wine loosened tongues and softened the edges of formality. I reconnected with my sister again, sharing quiet moments amid the grandeur, and introduced myself further to the women of Aerion’s family, noticing subtle smiles of approval and the occasional envious glance at our closeness.

Baela, my sister, told me of our mothers battle against small pox. “She’s definitely fighting it Aelora i assure you, the maesters say she might even power through.” she said whilst chewing. “Even if she can’t make it back to full health, we are sure she will recover enough to return to her normal life.” Baela nodded along with her sentence with confidence, this assured me, my sister would never lie to me. If she thought mother was at risk she would tell me.

“Anyway enough about our family, how are you feeling about your new upcoming family?” she questioned eyes meeting mine, my stomach churned with the same fear i felt everytime someone said the word heir. Smiling I took a strong intake of breath, I wasn't about to lie to my own blood, “I am excited, Aerion is beyond please, it’s just i” the words caught in my mouth, throat going dry. Baela looked at me with the fierce protectiveness she’s always possessed, ”you're worried it won’t be a boy aren't you? That it won't be the perfect Targaryen prince for Aerion." I nodded letting the relief wash over me, someone understood my concern.

Baela smiled fondly, placing a light hand on my silk covered arm, “You needn't worry Aelora if it's a girl you can always try again, Aerion loves you, i can tell because i love you.” 

-

7 months later

I woke to a pain so severe it felt like my whole body was caving inwards, slamming my palms on the bed, I tried to push myself upwards but I could barely move. A puddle of water lay around my legs and stomach, wet and weirdly slimy. Laying motionless I could just about see Aerion’s body laying next to mine fast asleep. 

Shooting pains sprawled up my lower back like fireworks exploding, turning into intense cramps in my womb whiting out my vision. I screamed, I screamed so loud the crows that were perched on the nearby turrets of the keep scattered into the early morning air. 

Aerion jumped up like a cat being startled, he sprung out of bed and immediately dropped to his knees to see my face by the side of the bed where I lay immobile. “What's wrong!? Darling tell me what's wrong!?” he shouted a voice scattered and frantic as he quickly dabbed his cold hands all over my sweat drenched face. 

“It's the baby Aerion, it's coming.” I panted out barely having enough energy to move my lips. He jumped up and ran to the door in only his under garments screaming at the guards to fetch all the maesters and hand maidens. 

Before long a flurry of handmaidens and maesters came running in with wet towels and brews. The baby was on its way. 

Each contraction grew deeper and deeper, low and guttural pulling the most animalistic noises from my throat. At one point I couldn't breathe, I gripped Aerion’s hand so hard beads of blood started to bloom at my finger nails, he didn’t dare move. 

After what felt like at least two gruelling torturous hours I finally heard the screaming of a baby, maesters ran to me carefully tugging at its head. Once the child was out of me and handed to a maid I thought the relief would be instant, it wasn’t. 

Deep shivering contractions hit me like a whole new wave of agony, I screamed throat cracking. “What's happening!?” Aerion demanded, “Why is she still in pain!?” the maesters hurried around me prying my closed legs open to assess, one of their heads shot up to meet Aerion's fiery gaze and my angry one. “There is one more child your grace, the queen has been blessed with twins. Its nearly out just keep pushing my queen.” 

I did. I pushed with every ounce of strength left, salty tears flowing down the sides of my face landing against my burning hot bare skin. Finally the last child was out, screaming but alive. A handmaiden rushed over and swaddled it to be taken to the other child. 

Aerion dropped his head into the bed, face torn in distress “You did it my darling, you did it.” he spoke quietly in my ear, stroking my burning clammy skin. 

My body was aching in ways I'd never even imagined, the trauma of birth rippling through my system. Maids dabbed my face with cold flannels as well as Aerion, coaxing water down my dry scratched throat. 

After a little while I wanted to see my children. “Grand maester give me my children now.” I had no energy for politeness, two maids came over to me laying in bed and Aerion sat beside me. 

“You have one healthy baby boy and one healthy baby girl, your grace.”  

-

We sat and waited for a beat, two beautiful sets of violet eyes stared back at me, heads lightly covered with white hair, pure valaryian children like Aerion wanted. 

“What do you want to name-”  Aerion started but i cut him off “Visenya. My daughter will be called Visenya after the warrior queen.” I said quietly, tracing my shaking fingers along the tiny girl's nose. I could feel Aerion smiled against my shoulder, his slender fingers moving down my arm and towards the baby boy I had cradled on the other side of me. “You name him Aerion, he is your heir.” 

Aerion took a deep contemplating breath “Arcturus,” he finally said, “first of his name.” 

I looked at him carefully, “that’s an unusual name for a Targaryen.” I said.

Aerion simply smiled at me, “exactly.”

[padfootasoiaf]

me reading an Aerion one shot acting like wouldn't vaporise a man on the spot if he spoke to me like that

[padfootasoiaf]

Blood of the dragon-chapter 10

so i managed to unpack thank goodness so here is your chapter!! This is slightly ooc aerion as i have given him a good relationship with his family and cousins, hope you enjoy! We also see him being a proud husband and dad (technically)

Lysa POV:

I carried the tray carefully into the queen’s chambers, the warm aroma of honeyed chamomile tea curling in the air as I stepped across the polished stone floors. The sun spilled through the tall windows, brushing Aelora’s hair with light, turning each strand to molten silver. She was seated by the window seat, hands cradling her face, and when she saw me, her eyes sparkled. “Lysa,” she said softly, almost conspiratorially, “you’re not leaving. Sit. Drink with me.”

I hesitated, unused to such familiarity, but her gesture was insistent. Setting the tray down on the low table between us, I poured tea into the delicate cups. The warmth seeped into my hands as I settled onto the push seat beside her, careful to keep my movements measured. We began to speak. I told her about my childhood on the streets, of the hunger and the cold nights, the handmaiden post I had lost when my lady died, the loneliness that had followed. She listened without interruption, eyes soft, her hand resting lightly on her cheek. When I paused, she shared her own memories, palaces and routines, lessons learned too early, the fear of being wed and thrust into responsibility before she could even comprehend it. Eventually, her voice grew almost fragile.

“My mother… she is ill,” she confessed, fingers trembling slightly over her cup. “I fear for her, Lysa. I try not to think of it, but I cannot help it.” I reached out instinctively, placing my fingers over hers. She offered a faint, grateful smile, and for a moment, the weight of the Red Keep and its dangers seemed to vanish from the room.

The door opened, and Aerion stepped inside, fatigue etched into his features, the sharp lines of his jaw and high cheekbones casting shadows over his pale skin. I froze, recalling the whispered warnings of the servants about his temper. He paused at the threshold, violet eyes scanning the room, lingering on Aelora with a flicker of tenderness, then moving over me. He said nothing about my presence, though I could feel his gaze, a quiet command that made my spine stiffen.

“I must attend the sept,” he finally declared. “Preparations for my cousin’s baptism begin today. You will need a gown suitable for the ceremony. All of Westeros will be watching.” His eyes briefly met Aelora’s, then he lingered a moment longer, as though considering whether to leave immediately or stay a little while longer.

I busied myself tidying the room, but then I noticed something out of the corner of my eye: Aerion had seated himself on a small bench and motioned to his servants. They approached quietly, hands deftly moving to assist him. One helped him with the tunic, another adjusted the intricate fastenings of his doublet, while a third polished the boots he had just removed. The room seemed to shrink with the tension of their movements, the servants cautious, alert, almost trembling under the weight of his gaze.

As I watched, I noticed his subtle mannerisms: the tilt of his head when he examined their work, the way his fingers flexed slightly as though measuring patience, the faint tightening of his jaw when a button was misaligned. The servants flinched slightly with each motion he made, yet they did not falter. They moved in a carefully choreographed rhythm, eyes flicking to him for approval before each step. One wrong movement could have cost them harsh rebuke, and I could feel the tension even from where I stood.

Once he was fully dressed, he lingered a moment longer, surveying the room, the queen, and even me. Then, almost imperceptibly, his expression softened as he looked at Aelora.

When Aerion finally left, Aelora turned to me with a quaint smile. “You’re scared of him, aren’t you?” she asked. I nodded, cheeks warm. “I… I am.”

She took my hand gently. “It’s understandable. But you must remember, there is nothing you can do to provoke him when you are with me. You are perfect as you are, and he would not, could not, cross you in any way that matters.”

I helped her prepare for bed, adjusting her shift and smoothing her hair. She offered quiet encouragement, and I felt the weight of her trust settle on my shoulders, heavy but sacred. After she was ready, I retreated to my chambers, leaning against the door with a shiver.

I exhaled slowly, realizing the truth that lay before me: they were both only eighteen, yet carried the weight of Westeros on their shoulders. Aelora had the grace to temper a king, and Aerion bore the weight of his crown with extreme precision. And I, a simple handmaiden, was caught between their worlds, trying to understand where fear ended and admiration began.

-

Back to Aeloras POV: 

The morning had been a whirlwind of nerves and anticipation, but I insisted on taking a moment to choose a gown befitting the evening’s grand family gathering. Aerion had seemed almost relieved to be distracted from the endless preparations, the council matters, the dining arrangements, the countless trays of silver and gold, all weighed heavily on him, and yet when we walked through the bustling shops of King’s Landing, I could see the tension in his shoulders ease just a fraction. He moved scanning the streets with vigilant eyes while I ran my fingers over the silks and velvets, comparing colors and textures, imagining how they would fall over me by candlelight. Aerion told me I would look good in anything I picked, but he didn’t rush me. At last, I settled on a deep sapphire gown with delicate silver embroidery that seemed to capture the shimmer of my hair. Aerion approved with a subtle nod, a mischievous smirk growing across his face that I could read all too well, and for a moment, I glimpsed the boy behind the king, the one who could forget crowns and politics for a simple joy.

By the time we returned to the Red Keep, the first of our extended family had begun to arrive, and soon the halls were alive with a mixture of laughter, greetings, and the shuffle of servants tending to guests. About twenty-five people in total would attend the feast, a mix of Targaryen aunts, uncles, cousins, and distant relatives. The dining hall had been transformed into a spectacle of polished silver, gleaming candlesticks, and overflowing platters, each course more decadent than the last. The atmosphere was alive with chatter, clinking goblets, and warm laughter. I felt my pulse quicken with both excitement and nerves as I took my place beside Aerion at the head of the table. Toasts were raised to the new Targaryen child, clinking against crystal, their voices filling the hall with a resonant celebration of the future.

Aerion, despite the weight of the day and the looming christening preparations, seemed to thrive among his male cousins. He laughed freely, their youthful energy echoing through the room as they recounted tales of hunting, training, and earlier jousts. I watched him carefully, noting the way his shoulders relaxed when he could be just a boy with his cousins for a while, the way his sharp violet eyes sparkled with amusement. I, meanwhile, reunited with my sister, embracing her warmly after too long apart, and then carefully made introductions to the women of Aerion’s family. The aunts with their measured smiles, the cousins with scrutinizing eyes, and the more distant relatives who sized me up in polite curiosity. Each interaction was a delicate dance, and I tried to learn names, faces, and subtle allegiances as I smiled and nodded.

Aerion’s cousin Vallar approached me with a grin, offering congratulations on our marriage and commenting on our shared ability to rule. He lingered on the sentiment that Aerion was fortunate indeed to be betrothed to “the most beautiful girl in the realm,” and though meant as flattery, I could feel the subtle irritation ripple through the younger female relatives around us. I gave a small, polite laugh, sensing their quiet envy, and moved on, letting the conversation shift as the night progressed.

When the feast finally drew to a close, we moved into the living room, where lounges had been set out, staff attending to the needs of the assembled guests with quiet efficiency. The warmth of the fires, the low murmur of conversation, and the glow of candlelight made the space feel intimate despite the number of people present. My hair, however, had begun to tug painfully at my scalp, and I excused myself to call for Lysa. She arrived almost immediately, adjusting the braids and smoothing stray strands with practiced care, her hands gentle and sure.

Aerion, meanwhile, had remained seated nearby, now noticeably tipsy from the wine and the warmth of celebration. He had not noticed Lysa’s presence, and I could see the tension ripple through her as he began to recount to his male cousins, with grandiose pride, how kind and gentle I was. “She even took a filthy beggar off the street to be her handmaiden,” he announced, voice booming with pride and amusement, gesturing broadly as he spoke. I saw Lysa stiffen immediately, her knuckles whitening as she gripped the comb in her hand. I realized quickly that his words, if left unchecked, could escalate into humiliation for her, and I acted instinctively.

“Lysa, go,” I whispered, placing a hand gently on her arm and guiding her toward the door with soft urgency. She hesitated, eyes wide, but I gave a reassuring squeeze, and she slipped away quietly, bowing slightly as she left. Only then did I allow myself to breathe, adjusting my hair one last time, my eyes briefly flicking to Aerion, who was still laughing with his cousins, oblivious to the tension he had caused. Even in his drunken exuberance, he attracted attention, his presence alone filling the room, yet I knew that only I could see the careful balance of pride, vulnerability, and love that guided his actions when it truly mattered.

As the feast drew to a close Aerion clinked his finger tip against the fine metal of his goblet, “Everyone if you would gather around, i have an announcement.” he boomed. I was already standing close to him at the time but I felt a firm hand slide around my waist, pulling me closer. My stomach clenched as criticising eyes formed a circle around us. “My beautiful queen Aelora is with child!” he exclaimed, sounding even happier than the first time he said it. The men erupted into cheers, sloshing wine clumsily around whilst the women opted for a more calm reaction. I found my sister in the crowd and immediately rushed for a hug whilst Aerion's cousins were slapping him on the back.

“To the new Targeryan heir!” Vallar said, thrusting his goblet into the air. 

[padfootasoiaf]

how i felt today going back to boarding school (i feel like this everytime)

art by sophithil (correct me if i'm wrong!)

[padfootasoiaf]

aerions face when dunk suggests trial by combat never fails to make me laugh

thats fear right there

[unicornsandfigs]

“ i am daenerys stormborn, daughter of dragons, bride of dragons, mother of dragons, don’t you see?”

— commission done by sscindyss_art on ig

[andrew-garfielld]

Daenerys Targaryen (Daemon's vision) in HOUSE OF THE DRAGON S02E08 | "The Queen Who Ever Was"

[buckypascal]

Finn Bennett in A Knight in the Making -> Episodes 2 & 3

[ziyuanyuan1113]

Daeron and Aerion in the early days

X

Bsky

[yandere-wishes]

MY BABIES

[buckypascal]

Finn Bennett in A Knight in the Making -> Episodes 4 & 5 (Part 1)

[padfootasoiaf]

Blood of the dragon-chapter 9

so, i know i have already posted a chapter today but i'm going back to school tomoz so i just know i won't post anything then. I am at boarding school o i have to travel, unpack, go out with my dorm mates, dinner etc. But i will still try my best to stick to the schedual!! We meet a new character in this one guys!

I woke to sunlight spilling through the curtains of my chambers, the faint scent of roses filling the air. Before I could sit up, I noticed Aerion standing by the window, fully dressed in fine clothes, his violet eyes catching the morning light. Behind him, a dozen small bouquets of flowers, their petals vibrant against the stone floor, had been placed with care. “Happy ten and eight name day,” he said, his voice low but warm, and I felt my chest tighten. “The Hand will cover my duties today. I will spend this day entirely with you, and my heir.” he said with a childlike smile. The thought that he had set aside the burdens of rulership, even briefly, just for me, made my heart swell.

After a quick breakfast, we mounted our dragons for a short ride over the city. Caraxes stretched his wings and roared into the sky, while Seasmoke mirrored him beneath me, the wind blowing my hair across my face. Aerion’s hand brushed against mine as we flew side by side, grounding me in a way that nothing else could. When we landed back in the Red Keep, he turned to me, a rare glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “I want to take you shopping,” he said. “Anything you desire, it will be yours. Today is yours.”

We left the Red Keep with a small contingent of guards, moving into the deep markets of King’s Landing. People recognized us immediately, valaryian features that are found only in Targeryans and Velaryons never go unnoticed. whispers following our steps like a tide, but no one dared approach. Aerion stayed close to my side, his presence alert, protective. I wandered through the stalls, selecting jewels, rings, and embroidered gowns. The guards carried the growing pile of treasures behind us as Aerion allowed my indulgences, he simply asked how much and paid, never saying no.

Eventually, Aerion paused near a crowd and pointed subtly. “I saw the High Septon earlier. I’m just going to speak with him, please don’t wander too far.” he said, moving off. I walked a little further and noticed a young woman crouched near a corner, clutching a small, battered bowl. Her clothes were tattered, her hair tangled, and her eyes wide with hunger and fear. My heart ached. Kneeling down, I offered her a few coins.

The girl’s eyes went wide as she realized who stood before her. “Y-Your Grace?” she stammered, nearly dropping the bowl.

I smiled softly. “Yes. I am Aelora. And you? What’s your name?”

“Lysa… Lysa Morren, Your Grace,” she whispered.

I asked how she had come to be in the streets, and she told me of her former role as a personal handmaiden, now cast out after her lady’s death. The story made my chest ache with sympathy. “Would you like to work for me?” I asked. “I am often alone when Aerion is busy. It would be nice to have some company, and you could help me.”

Her eyes lit up. “I… I would be honored, Your Grace! I promise I will be the best handmaiden you’ve ever had!” Her hands clutched mine, trembling, and her voice was full of hope.

Before we could continue, Aerion’s voice cut through the air like steel. “What is going on here?” My stomach clenched as I felt his presence approach. Lysa visibly shivered. Aerion’s eyes scanned the scene, landing on the girl and then on me. His violet gaze darkened. “Aelora,” he said sharply, “you are dirtying your gown in the filth of the streets! Your kindness is admirable, but you must be careful. Beggars are not to be trusted, and their filth will soil more than your dress. You risk yourself unnecessarily!”

I placed a hand on his arm, pleading softly. “Aerion, please. She has nowhere else to go. She’s alone. I would like her with me to be my personal handmaiden, if only to give her a chance.”

His lips tightened, his jaw firm, but I saw a subtle shift in his eyes, a crack in the otherwise unyielding demeanour. He inhaled slowly, and then, almost imperceptibly, the sharp edges softened. “If it pleases you,” he murmured, “I will allow it. But she must be cleaned and properly prepared before entering the Red Keep.”

Lysa’s eyes went wide with astonishment. “Y-Your Grace…?” she whispered, trembling. The awe in her voice, the hesitation of someone who had heard the tales of Aerion’s wrath, was palpable. He glanced at her briefly, still vigilant, still imposing, and yet the rigid line in his jaw softened ever so slightly for me. “You will do well,” he said, voice low, almost private, “but do not take advantage of my leniency.”

I smiled at him, relief flooding me. Lysa bent low in gratitude, her hands clutching mine as she promised her loyalty. “I will serve you faithfully, Your Grace! I will not fail you!”

Aerion’s eyes flicked back to me. “This is for your happiness alone,” he said, the warning in his tone clear, though softened now by the faint warmth in his gaze. “Any failure will have consequences.” He stepped back, regal and distant, yet I could feel, just beneath the surface, that he had acquiesced for me. Lysa, wide-eyed and trembling, whispered her thanks again, unable to reconcile the king she had heard of with the quiet kindness she had just witnessed.

The rest of the afternoon passed with laughter, vibrant fabrics, and sparkling jewelry. Aerion remained near me, his eyes watchful but in moments, almost imperceptibly adoring, visible only to me. I held Lysa’s hand briefly, feeling a warmth unlike the opulence of jewels or silk, a small act of kindness, made possible by the man who could terrify a city with a glance, yet allowed compassion to reach the young girl before me.

-

Lysa POV:

The next day

I had been up since before dawn, the quiet of the Red Keep wrapping around me like a heavy cloak. My small chamber smelled faintly of lavender, though the air still carried the faint tang of stone and dust from the long corridors beyond. I dressed quickly, smoothing the folds of my uniform as best as I could, and hurried toward the kitchen to prepare tea for the queen. My hands shook slightly with nerves, not from the work itself, but from the knowledge that every corner of the Keep was watched, and every whisper could carry far.

As I moved through the corridors, I noticed again how the servants gave me and Aelora a wide berth. They stepped aside silently, eyes lowered, murmuring only to each other when we passed. Even the cooks in the kitchens paused their chopping to glance at me, news must have spread that I was given this job directly by the king.I understood now, it was Aerion’s presence, even when unseen, that demanded such caution. I had caught glimpses of him earlier, in the throne room, his eyes scanning, sharp and dangerous, the violet intensity of a man who could terrify anyone with just a look. And yet, when he spoke to Aelora, even briefly, there was a softness, a flicker of warmth that could only exist because of her. I found myself both awed and wary, never fully comfortable, yet strangely reassured by the knowledge that the queen could calm him in ways no one else could.

In the kitchen, I carefully set out a tray, placing the delicate porcelain cups on their saucers and pouring hot tea with as steady a hand as I could manage. The faint smell of herbs and honey filled the air, and I allowed myself a moment to breathe, thinking of how Aelora would take the tea, her fingers brushing the edge of the cup so delicately. It was these small tasks, these quiet moments, that reminded me why I had agreed to serve her.

A soft cough made me start, and I turned to see a kitchen maid lingering in the doorway. She was older than most of the servants I had met, her hair pulled back tightly and her eyes wary. “Lysa,” she said in a low voice, careful to ensure no one else could hear, “I need to warn you.” I froze, my hand still on the teapot. “About what?” I whispered, leaning slightly closer.

She glanced around nervously, as if the very walls might betray her, before speaking. “About him… Aerion.” Her voice was barely more than a breath. “You may have seen him calm, or even kind, when he is with her, but you must understand what he is capable of. To those who step out of line, he is… a monster. He does not forgive mistakes lightly. He will terrify, punish, and destroy if he sees a threat, or even disobedience.”

I nodded slowly, feeling the weight of her words sink in. “I… I understand,” I murmured, though my voice wavered. “I have seen… glimpses of that. But he is… different with Aelora. He… softens for her.”

The maid gave a faint, grim smile. “Yes. That is the only reason she can manage him. You must never forget it. Never cross him, never test his patience, and always… always be cautious. He can be swift and cruel. Even the smallest misstep can bring disaster. Just because you're personal to the queen, does not mean he will treat you as such.”

I swallowed hard, staring down at the tray in front of me, feeling the porcelain cups tremble slightly beneath my hands. I thought of the way Aerion had looked at me from afar the day I met him, and the way Aelora’s presence could melt the sharp edges of his gaze. It was a strange, terrifying thing, how one person could calm a man capable of so much destruction, and yet I knew the maid was right. Outside of her, there was a danger I had only begun to glimpse, and I could not let my guard down for a moment.

“Thank you,” I whispered, bowing slightly. The maid nodded and slipped away, leaving me alone once more, the steam of the tea rising in delicate spirals. I placed the tray carefully on my arm, every movement precise, every step measured. I would serve the queen with care, keep my eyes open, and my heart steady. Aerion’s shadow stretched through the Keep like a storm, but in these quiet moments, I clung to the small comfort that Aelora’s presence tempered it. Still, I could not forget the warnings, nor the fear that made me quick to obey and cautious in every glance.

[padfootasoiaf]

if aerion was born today do we think he would be the number one redbull drinker alive because he thought it would give him wings??💔