#aerion brightflame

guess who drew this and forgot to post it on here again 🌚 ok so this is a rockstar au for him in my head this is in dunks pov of aerion but for sure maekar is his momager lmao but also aerion would def think make some good music but would talk about struggles he does NOT have like hes a crazy nepo baby with hella privileges who has never struggled in life but he’s still hella popular even tho he’s unapologetically an asshole because he’s fine, talented, and has an over all “i don’t give a shit” vibe and hes not fake! alado in my head the 3 dragons are his kids with dunk every time he has a kid he adds a dragon while drawing this i imagines him singing Bullet with butterfly wings by the Smashing Pumpkins!

Who would yall ship me with in AKOTSK? 😂😏 Aerion Brightflame Lyonel Baratheon Baelor Targaryen Maekar Targaryen Daeron Targaryen Valarr Targaryen Ser Duncan Raymun Fossoway Lady Rowan Ser Roland Crakehall

Help me pick a trope/topic for a Aerion fic?! 🫪 Touch-her-and-die Enemies to lovers The dragon’s favourite Arranged Marriage

Going to a Ren Faire in one the states nearby next month, and part of me wants shove a pillow under my dress and say that Aerion knocked me up, lol

Vampire Aerion anyone?? ( MY LINKS ) I need to find someone other than Finn Bennett to draw, this is the 3rd time and Im also working on backrooms stickers…………

I made a tiktok fan acc if anyone wanted to follow me on there plsss, I will follow back ofc x Going to be using it to release when I’ve uploaded new chapters of The Dragon’s Witch // Aerion Targaryen and others etc. Thanks:) TikTok - Make Your Day

Ser Duncan I(F) Vs Aerion Targaryen E(T) - Liberty Vs Law ( Introverted Feeling with repressed Extraverted Thinking Vs Extraverted Thinking with repressed Introverted Feeling Vs ) ( My previous post focused on Aerion . We now proceed to Duncan ) ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ The introvert interposes a subjective view between the perception of the object and his own action , which prevents the action from assuming a character that corresponds with the objective situation . Duncan often does not understand objective things that seem “obvious” to everyone else. He has repressed Extraverted Thinking so he is in a constant state of reflecting or experiencing what is “correct” or “objective” in the world to his own subjective views that conflict with the world. Rafe, an Extraverted type, had to educate him throughout the scenes. It is not that Duncan does not understand the human experience, but rather it is a “to each their own” to him, which makes objective information difficult to comprehend. Rafe teaching him about the dead is not Duncan being insensitive but rather him finding the action lacking in personal sentiment. IF types often comment on how much they dislike or find it confusing “how are you”, for example. Since most people lie when answering this question, so they find it without much basis. Interestingly, in a following scene, Rafe goes on to reduce Duncan’s sentimentality towards a dead man while Duncan feels a sense of grief (probably also due to him feeling a personal connection to it as I believe he brought up something relational, but I have to rewatch). Duncan, once again, demonstrates this when he asserted the war is over, but Rafe follows up with “nothing is over”, giving an example of children they knew who had a little feud. Duncan instantly goes “but it was an accident” (one of the children) and Rafe refutes with “Only for Cedric to come back a year later and near burn down half of Flea Bottom trying to kill Pudding”. Rafe’s objective facts vs Duncan’s personal sentiments and freedom of expression. It causes him to be open minded in the sense of agency but limited in the sense of real world motives. Additional: See how Duncan viewed it as an accident whereas Aerion wouldn’t view it as an accident. IF generally has a flexible view in their average mental states. Personal freedom and freedom in general is a hallmark of the type. Constructs and labels are not too important for them even if they do attach, if only to make their feelings within more verbally understood. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ It is characteristic of our present extraverted valuation that the word ‘subjective’ occasionally rings almost like a reproach or blemish ; but in every case the epithet ’ merely subjective’ means a dangerous weapon of offence , destined for that daring head . They reveal a sympathetic parallelism . Duncan is an amusement for many of these Extraverted characters that come across him (Baelor, Lyonel, Aerion, Rafe). He continues to defy their norms, at times even ignorant that there are norms in place. His subjective freedom in the human experience and human heart is seen as dangerous and/or naive. One example is when Duncan refuses to believe there are no good men who would fit for an innocent cause. He attempts to connect with them by sharing his own sentiment and experience, meaning to inspire them. This is called sympathetic parallelism of the IF (different from EF empathetic universality). ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ Thus far, therefore, the subjective factor is something that is just as much a fact as the extent of the sea and the radius of the earth. The subjective depends on the objective still, no matter of little of it they take and the vast information they discard from it. It is simply that the Introverted type does not adhere to the objectives. They personalize them. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ This feeling appears much less upon the surface and is, as a rule, misunderstood . Duncan and Daeron are two IF characters present in the story where those around them tend to be perplexed by them. Daeron in particular is often accompanied by dragon dreams, only complicating this element which already has issues expressing their beliefs outwardly, and causing further alienation. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ Its aim is not so much to accommodate to the objective fact as to stand above it, since its whole unconscious effort is to give reality to the underlying images. Duncan’s belief in the “heart of man” is largely influenced by his subjective perceptions within him whether it be memories, physical manifestations of feelings, abstract symbols of it, sounds, touch, personal connections, etc. Often not easily able to explain and they may even prefer written form to express, if it is a viable option. As mentioned, Duncan does not wish to accommodate, and he isn’t trying to stand out but he also does not wish to control / restrict the freedom of other person’s own sentiments or thoughts, nor accommodate others to himself. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ It strives after an inner intensity . The depths of this feeling can only be divined , they can never be clearly comprehended . Often this type prefers to contain this intensity within themselves which can be unhealthy if they are in a situation like Daeron where they are in fact restricted, and he is said to be a bleeding heart. Essentially, Daeron is a festering wound of him being swallowed by this. IF must be organic and allowed personal freedom to thrive. Duncan’s examples of this are the dead man he grieved, him witnessing Aerion’s cruelty twice - one for the horse and one for Tanselle, and once more him trying to reach the hearts of the audience to his cause. They are a paintbrush of the human sentimental experience. Author Fyodor Dostoevsky, heart of humanity, is the IF(N) type. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ It makes [them] silent and difficult of access . It puts forward negative feeling-judgments or assumes an air of profound indifference, as a measure of self-defence. The proverb 'Still waters run deep’ is very true. They are mostly silent, inaccessible, and hard to understand; often they hide behind a childish or banal mask , and not infrequently their temperament is melancholic . Duncan presents himself as an ordinary knight and although he is sensitive and appears kind / naive, he does not wish others to access his own sentiments so he may respond with attempted polite aloofness, sarcasm, unintentional bluntness, and in Daeron’s case - indifference and self deprecation. Whether a resting bitch face or an innocent darling face, both apply to the IF. Duncan’s scene with the courtesans where he has a “this is a bit mean, I’m only human” is a nice representation of IF outwarding. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ But , when it becomes falsified by an egocentric attitude , it at once grows unsympathetic , since then its major concern is still with the ego. Just as ET likes to learn many things and contributes to new methods / techniques as a positive, IF has a negative here where they can be so self-absorbed in their labyrinth of emotions, it turns into constant narcissism or victimhood, without much external input. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ They neither shine nor reveal themselves. Since they submit the control of their lives to their subjectively orientated feeling, their true motives generally remain concealed . The average of this type - so we exempt the radical unhealthy and ideally healthy from this - do not seek glory, fame, or any of these earthly and vain things for their talents. They may need currency, understanding it is the way they can continue what they desire, but that is never as important as their passion. Duncan has certainly portrayed this in spite of being offered money if he “faked” in the tourney. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ It may possibly make an extravagant irruption, leading to some staggering act of an almost heroic character . Whereas, for instance, an extensive feeling of sympathy can express itself in both word and deed at the right place. [Or] gains a passionate depth that embraces the misery of a world . When IF’s sentimentality intensifies so much and seeps outside oneself, they have moments of heroism or despair. Duncan’s Trial speech and Daeron’s “I’m doomed to some Hell”. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ It expresses its aim and content in a concealed religiosity anxiously shielded, from profane eyes, or in intimate poetic forms equally safeguarded from surprise. Clinging to religion, things like poetry, drawing, or even fashion to express themselves and/or their personal experiences in life. If they produce children, may inspire them to be themselves and “fly”, if quite unhealthy, use self-deprecation and “cage” aka keep the person with them or worse, feel as if everyone betrayed them and therefore wishes to burn the world. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ But , wherever the unconscious subject is identified with the ego, the mysterious power of the intensive feeling is also transformed into banal [or] ambition. This produces a type most regrettably distinguished by mischievous cruelty. Not to be confused with ET where it is linked to their black and white world view of society / reality and the people in it. IF is able to “look” ET (even ES aka Aegon ii) when their repressed Extraverted Thinking is provoked, giving way to their sensorial habits (Daeron) or destructive elements (Aemond). Therefore, Daeron can mimic Aegon ii and Aemond can mimic Aerion. Both are an attempt to quell their intensities. Daeron, in the books, explicitly stated to kill Aerion, haha. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ Consciousness begins to feel 'what others think’ ; sorts of baseness, scheming evil, and contriving all sorts of plots, secret intrigues, etc. Assailed by rumours, he must make convulsive efforts to convert, if possible, a threatened inferiority into a superiority. Secret rivalries develop and not only will no base or evil means be disdained, but even virtues will be misused and tampered with in order to play the trump card. In a regressive state, believe people are making fun of them, saying bad things about them, hate them, intend on bullying / harming them, and so on - whether to their face or behind their back and it does not have to necessarily be true. Neurosis occurs here. So far Duncan hasn’t demonstrated this in the show. Hadn’t included much on either IF(S) or IF(N). Nonetheless, Duncan is IF(S) for he is not lead by intuition. Reiterating, both IF(S) and IF(N) use sensation and intuition. It is solely about preference. Duncan prefers the simple pleasures and habits, gladdened by the bare minimum. He is a realist (idealism comes from being IF) and personal account of his life is represented by hands on human experiences, observations, and feeling. This is drastically different to Daeron who is IF(N) where his life is marked by haunted dreams, though no less is he ignorant to what the images may detail, but if he received help or a proper anchor, primordial artistry is one lifepath of his. Daeron is described as a romantic poet who is bleeding according to Lorna (designer). Difference is, the experience at hand in the art may not actually be Daeron’s experience itself. Fyodor Dostoevsky’s stories were not a direct relation of his own experiences in spite of his personal sentiments being the core of the stories. IF is a highly personal type so it required further detail. The Introverted types all have this effect. Special guest stars: Author Fyodor Dostoevsky, Daeron, Aemond, and Aegon ii.

for those waiting for the Aerion Brightflame photo cards, they’re almost done and will be posted this weekend

“𝐒𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐎𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐈𝐜𝐞”, 𝐚 𝐃𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐚𝐧/𝐀𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐈𝐜𝐞-𝐬𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐈𝐜𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜, 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟖 𝐢𝐬 𝐮𝐩! [ Note: Hey hi hello peeps!!🩵 Apologies for the radio silence those past days, turns out my immune system decided to throw three allergic shocks at me like some kind of overzealous bouncer like last week/two weeks ago and I am STILL in recovery and I HATE how long it is taking ;-; (I’m fine! Mostly. The exams this week have been less ‘academic challenge’ and more ‘ritual hazing,’ but hey, we persist!) Also, PSA: gel nails are a lie. A fascinating lie that leaves you with chemical burns and acrylate allergies, so please enjoy this fic update brought to you by my poor fingers with Looney Tunes bandages and sheer spite.. T-T Thank you all for the love, can’t believe this little gremlin of a fic is already two months old! Your comments/kudos are the only reason I haven’t dissolved into a pile of stress glitter. More soon(ish)!🩵🩵🩵 _ Mel Link for Chapter 18 ]

i’m writing the next part of the aerion targaryen modern au and it’s taking a lot longer than expected, but i want to at least give something for people to read while i cry over how to write about aerion’s daddy issues. so, my question for you: What should I post? Headcanons about the Targaryens in the modern AU Headcanons about what dragon I think the AKOTSK Targaryens would have angsty but fluffy drabble about how Aerion and reader met See Results

someone on twitter said that localizing aerion would be fitting as a punishment for him (my country is going through an economic crisis and our president is a shithead war criminal) but let me tell you I went to school with at least three aerion’s and somehow didn’t off myself. every day I pray for their downfall only to find out that they paid their way into one of our most prestigious universities, you’re telling me that’s not aerion targaryen

Wait guys let me know if you want Drabble or head cannons for any of my Aerion characters. Or even better if yall have requests for little things/scenarios you’d want me to write. ✍️ love yalllll please fill my inbox 🙏🙏🙏🙏

Aerion “Brightflame” Targaryen RP blog Reforming (but open to public and private rps!).

Y'know while i will always miss the loss of Aerion's beautiful hair, I do love just how much he looks like a little gay boy slash german mom

German mom 😭😭😭😭

In desperate need of vampire Aerion au

ops sorry, I didn’t mean to schedule my Aerion graphics so early. Had a lot of fun making his, and might do more because I had a hard time choosing which ones to pick. He’s just hot

“Someday We’ll Be Free” Relationship: Original female character/Aerion Targaryen/Valarr Targaryen (Love Triangle) Tags: love triangle, infidelity, emotional infidelity, jealousy, drama, eventual smut Tw: SA, stillbirth, mild gore, violence • Chapter 5: Silver After the first day of arriving and seeing Valarr’s training, Elira had heard her father’s men talking about the knights and other swordsmen of King’s Landing. There seemed to be a lack of respect for their swordsmanship. They said that the young princes, in particular, lacked proper training. But no one would outwardly dare to challenge an heir to the heir outside a joust. Until now. Elira moved out of the way as the prince and the knight took out their swords. Finding herself back at the spot on a log where she left her parchment and charcoal, she resumed her drawing. The swords clashed and sang throughout the clearing. She looked up from time to time to watch the two men fight and she had to admit Valarr possessed skill and agility alike. He seemed to be enjoying the fight, laughter escaping his lips as the two men made friendly banter. “Are you tired yet, my prince, shall I allow you to take a breather?” “I should ask you the same thing, ser Duarte, your hand seems to waver.” Indeed. He was enjoying himself. So much so that when Elira finished sketching the mushroom and the tip of ser Duarte’s sword was pointing at the prince’s throat, Valarr was not discouraged by his loss and demanded a rematch. Elira watched as sweat shone on his face making his dark hair cling to his forehead. Yet, the prince’s agility never dwindled. His eyes were bright with determination and his smile… His smile was wide and burning with excitement. Elira watched in fascination, seeing the prince so carefree for the first time. She wanted to imprint that moment in her paper. When the prince won, his face lined with dark lines of charcoal laid in her lap. Valarr had managed to disengage ser Duarte’s sword from his hand. He lifted his sword to ser Duarte’s throat with a proud smile. The semblance of which Elira had managed to capture in her drawing. Nodding to the knight, Valarr approached the girl, his breathing slightly ragged, placing away the sword in its sheath. “Lady Elira.” Valarr reached out his hand to her. There was a beat of silence. Before Elira finally took his hand and stood up, his eyes never leaving hers. Releasing his hand, she lifted the other to give him the drawing of his face. Valarr took it into his hands, surprise etched in his face as he looked at his mirror. Elira walked past him, his head turning to her, as she neared her horse. The girl climbed up and looked down at him. “Shall we?” The two rode back to the Keep, followed by the knights. And they talked. “My brother gifted it to me.” Elira told him when Valarr asked her about her bracelet. “Why a boar?” “In our culture a boar symbolises perseverance and fierceness. Ancient warriors would put on the heads of dead boars on wooden poles in defiance of the enemies of our Island.” The enemies in question being Aegon the Conqueror and his wives. And when her people finally caved and joined the Seven Kingdoms, the boar heads still stood on the shores of their island to greet the Conqueror. But in the Targaryen prince’s presence Elira refrained from telling him that. “My brother used to always call me stubborn and pig-headed.” Her words made the prince smile. “So when we left, he gave me this bracelet.” Elira heard the prince laugh. That laughter elicited a smile of her own. “I’d love to meet your brother someday.” “He said the same thing about you before we left.” “Well, then I hope he doesn’t request a duel like his dear sister.” Valarr joked giving her a playful smile. “Your grace…” She chuckled, shaking her head. “Valarr.” He said, making Elira look at him. “Please, call me Valarr.” “As long as you call me Elira.” Elira said. “As you wish… Elira.” It was when they reached the Keep’s courtyard that Elira’s horse started to stumble hurriedly and heave. Elira began to panic. “Woah. Easy there. Easy.” Elira tried to calm the horse as she reined it in. Valarr, already off his horse, with his hands raised, tried to soothe the beast from the front. But it paid no mind. The stumbles only became more imbalanced and erratic. Elora thought the horse was going to fall. In a moment’s flash, Elira pulled her leg from one side of the saddle and jumped off. As the horse began to fall towards her someone’s hands pulled her away. If not for them, the horse would have crushed her under its weight. Elira’s hazel eyes met those of violet. Prince Aerion held her close to his chest, one hand on her upper back, the other on her waist. There was a wild look in his eyes. Her own face was one of shock with her mouth open, chest rising rapidly. She stepped out of his grip with his one hand still placed on her back, when Valarr came running to her. “Elira! Are you alright?” His warm hand reached for her shoulder. His eyes were full of worry as they looked her over. “I’m quite… Fine… I think…” The courtyard was full of servants and knights shouting and gasping as they surrounded the fallen horse. When her father found out about the incident, he was very remorseful. He pulled his daughter into his safe embrace. Her mother was indignant. “How could this have happened to my daughter?” She demanded with her voice raised. “When the stable boy gave me the horse, he assured me that the horse was perfectly healthy, my lady.” Ser Duarte insisted. Her mother demanded for the culprit responsible for the incident to be punished. Her father agreed with her. But before anyone else could get to the stable boy the knight spoke to, prince Aerion had already got to him. No one told her what happened to the boy. Elira only knew that Aerion was involved. And she knew that it was nothing good. “What did you do to him?” Elira demanded when they met in the dungeons. “I dealt with him.” That was his only response. “Tell me how.” She insisted. “No.” “Aerion!" "No.” “The boy made a mistake.” Elira tried to reason with him, even though she knew the damage had been done. “And I made him pay for it.” The shadows of the dungeons veiled his eyes. She huffed. In frustration, she wanted to leave, but Aerion stepped into her path. “Let me through, Aerion.” That was when he grabbed her by the shoulders, making her look up right into his eyes. Wildness burned in his violets. “You could have gotten hurt, Elira!” He exclaimed in a voice strained with anger, shocking her. “Do you really think I’d let that fucking imbecile go unpunished?” His voice then lowered darkly as he said: “He should call himself lucky it was the dragon’s hands that delivered justice.” Disgust seared her chest. Elira let out a scoff, shaking his hands off before storming off. She couldn’t believe his self-righteousness. The court had a much different opinion on the matter than Elira. Him swooping in and saving the day and making sure the culprit was punished was celebrated by the ladies as well as the lords. “He acted with such chivalry.” The ladies fawned over him in Kiera’s solar. “You must be glad that the prince came to you just in time. There’s no imagining, what could have happened due to the boy’s carelessness…” “Oh, just unthinkable.” Another lady piped in. “It’s a good thing that the boy was deservedly punished.” Deservedly. Elira questioned the extent of the word in this situation. With what degree of severity was the boy even punished…? But the court, her family and the Targaryens thought the matter to be final. The conclusion was that Aerion was in the right to act. And Elira had no control over the opinions of others… All she could do was complain to a trusted ear. “I cannot believe that the people are so blind to his cruelty.” “He did save your life, though.” Daeron said with his fingers massaging his temple. “I know that he saved me! I am being reminded of that constantly.” Elira said exasperated. “I am talking about him punishing the boy. For all I know he could have maimed him terribly.” “Did he?” “You tell me! He’s your brother, not my kin.” Elira pointed out. “Yes, Aerion can be quite cruel…” Daeron admitted. “See! And the fact that nobody is telling me what happened to the boy…” She took a pillow from the couch and dropped it across the solar. Elira was not some delicate flower. And everyone acting like she was made her blood boil. For the next several days she decided to avoid the dungeons. Truth be told, she felt a mixture of confusing feelings. Elira was glad that the prince had saved her. She was grateful to him. She realised that he cared for her. So much so that he lashed out at the person ‘responsible’ for the incident. Which frightened her… And secretly pleased her… Elira threw another pillow. She knew he was there, waiting for her. But she didn’t want to face him. And the excuse for it had found her all on its own. She woke up in the middle of the night sweating with horrible pain in her lower abdomen and blood between her thighs. Her blood moon was on her. Her days of bleeding were always terrible. Elira had tried to brew a draft once or twice to relieve the pain so she could leave the bed. But the results were just a sour aftertaste from the drink and continual pain. The only thing that helped was the milk of the poppy. She would often spend the first day refusing to drink it, since she didn’t want to sleep all day. But the pain would become so unbearable that she’d give in sooner or later. Confined to the bed, Elira didn’t leave her bedroom for five days. Occasionally eating something, mostly asleep. In the hours when she did wake, Kiera would come to visit her. Her bubbly personality would fill the room as she chatted away. In her current state, Elira found the girl irritable, but she didn’t voice it. She knew that Kiera meant well. Valarr, on the other hand, had sent her small notes where he wished her to feel better soon. His notes worked like a balm on her heart. It was on the sixth day that all of her strength came back to her. Elira was ravenous when the food tray was placed before her in her chamber. The spiced porridge, peaches and lemon cakes were gone in an instant. And it seemed that the news of her well-being improving had reached Aerion quickly. Because the moment she swallowed the last bite, Elira received his message to come down to the stables. Elira only sighed and let her maid help her get dressed and put her hair into a braid. Her riding coat flapped at the hem as she neared the stables. A head of silver-blonde hair appeared from within. Aerion was guiding a horse by its reins towards her. “Why did you send for me, Aerion?” It was the first thing she said to him, her words laced with wariness. “I wanted to give you a gift.” He simply said. “Since your last horse was defective, I thought I’d pick one out for you myself this time.” She looked at him in surprise. “This is Silver.” Aerion said when Elira didn’t speak. “A mare. She is of a calm nature, but swift and very intuitive. You’ll have no trouble with her." Elira moved to stand closer to the mare as she reached out her hand to brush her neck in a gentle manner. The mare was silver white, matching Aerion’s hair. The horse also reminded her of the herd of white horses people from her island would take on a procession through the city and all the way to the shore. It was done in celebration of the Lady of their House whenever she was pregnant with a child. In her homeland, a white horse symbolized fertility and health. Elira looked up at him finally meeting his violet stare. The gesture was a true contrast to the cruelty that he had enacted. It confused her. It confused her because she still felt deep regret for the person that Aerion might have hurt, yet she was grateful for the gift. She saw the man stand there in front of her with that hopeful look in his eye. Like a dragon hatchling bringing a shiny trinket to its dragonrider. This was his apology. Or an attempt to appease her. And it shouldn’t have affected her. But it gladdened her heart anyhow… "She’s beautiful… Thank you.” It was as if he had let out a breath he was holding. “But it still doesn’t excuse your behaviour.” Despite the seriousness of her look, he grinned. “You can take it back to the stables.” Elira said, turning on her heel. Then she added over her shoulder in regards to his false step. “Please don’t do anything stupid.” “Me? I would never dream of it.” She heard the grin in his voice. She wanted to be angry with him. What he did exactly to the boy… She didn’t know. But he himself confessed to executing the cruel deed… And whatever it was she didn’t approve of it… Elira felt like the wisest thing to do was for her to stay away from him… To cease this friendship and avoid being implicated in his cruelty… And yet, evening came and her legs carried her into the lowest depths of the castle. A man with a fire halo stood next to a dead dragon. Her heart was caving in way too easily, but if nothing like this ever happens again, maybe his viciousness will not repeat itself and end with this single occurrence… Elira’s routine changed over the next few weeks. It was no longer just her and ser Duarte riding out into the forest. Valarr began to join the two with one of his own guards, ser Tristan, accompanying him. She teased about him having only one guard and he laughed. “I am just following the example of my gracious lady.” Elira would find the right clearing in the greenery. Valarr would lift her down from Silver and then she would take out her parchment and charcoal sticks. Valarr would either train with ser Duarte or collect the plants that she needed, guided by one of her sketches. Sometimes he would just stand watching over her shoulder as her hand moved the charcoal stick across the parchment. Valarr would express slight disappointment whenever she couldn’t make it to their daily meetings. But never too harshly. She only had to miss their meetings two times. One of those times she spent the whole day without even a glance of the Young Prince because her mother wanted to take her and sister to see Jena Dondarrion, her sister’s mother by law. The day felt hollow. The second time was when her sister pleaded her to accompany her to the breakfast hall where some of the court spent their mornings eating and socialising. That day she did see him. In the hall, she they found Kiera and Valarr. She remarked that the two sat together rather closely to each other. Like her mornings, her evenings also took a turn. Elira started to spend her time more in the dungeons talking to the dragon. Whenever she missed meetings with Brightflame, Aerion would make a huge deal out of it by pouting incessantly the next time they met. “It was a family dinner, Aerion… I couldn’t just not go.” Elira insisted. “Of course… If that’s more important to you…” Aerion would look away with a pout to his lips. “Oh, Aerion…” Elira would shake her head at what she presumed was just Aerion’s childishness. She would make it up to him by listening to him talk about dragons for the next hour without interrupting. And she didn’t mind it. She enjoyed listening to Aerion’s voice. In those moments, it only belonged to her.