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When Aerea is ten, her great-uncle takes her to Dragonstone to meet the wild dragons.
It is there that she bonds with the Cannibal, a feat that results in a rare smile from Maegor, who ruffles her hair with pride and declares her a true Targaryen.
It is not easy, riding a dragon as chaotic and wild as the Cannibal, but Aerea takes to the skies like she was born to it (and she was, really, it is her destiny and her fondest dream) and nowhere else does she feel as free and happy than on dragon-back.
Her mother is horrified when her great-uncle begins to take her with him when he travels on his war campaigns.
Rhaena apparently weeps when she hears how the Cannibal, under Aerea’s instructions, had burned two hundred men alive. She does not understand her mother’s tears, since the men were traitors to the crown and she had helped thwart their plot.
“Your mother is the blood of the dragon,” Maegor tells her, “but she is not like us, Aerea. We are more.”
“Yes, kepus,” Aerea nods eagerly, her great-uncle’s praise sparse and therefore all the more precious when given.
Sometimes, when they are alone, her mother tries to tell her that Maegor is a monster, a tyrant, a captor. But he is all Aerea has ever really known, her memories of her first few years, before she came to the Red Keep, faded and blurred. Her great-uncle is larger than life, a figure who blots out all others so he is the only influence and guide she really has and the only one she wants.
When Aerea is fifteen, she and Maegor face her uncle Jaehaerys in battle.
He is a fool, her uncle. He thinks to leave his sister-wife Alysanne and her dragon Silverwing in hiding and face them alone.
Jaehaerys is a good rider, but he is not a natural the way Aerea and Maegor are. And Vermithor is no match for Balerion and the Cannibal together.
It is a bloodbath, but Aerea has long become used to spilling blood. It ignites her blood rather than distressing her. And while Jaehaerys is her uncle, she does not know him, cannot even remember ever meeting him. Besides, he falsely calls himself the rightful king, even though Rhaena is his elder and Aerea is her oldest child.
“You have done well, child,” her great-uncle says as they survey the devastation below.
Vermithor lives, although it will take some time for him to recover from his injuries and his grief at his rider’s death. Jaehaerys has breathed his last and his broken body will be returned to King’s Landing, Maegor having agreed to him being given a dragon rider’s funeral so that her mother can say goodbye to her brother.
“What about my aunt?” asks Aerea.
She has heard some of his advisors suggest to Maegor that he might want to take his niece Alysanne as yet another bride, since he has only two wives still living and none have given him a child. It had made her angry, when she overheard that meeting, although she has not yet figured out why she felt that way.
“She will become a Septa,” her great-uncle says dismissively, “since she and my nephew embraced Andal traditions in everything except their own union then she will surely be content there. Besides, she was married for years with no signs of a child and the last thing I need is another barren wife.”
Aerea smiles in relief. She’s glad her aunt won’t be coming to court – she likes the way things are now.
“There is a matter we must discuss, Aerea,” her great-uncle tells her later, as they dine in the tent they share while the soldiers pack up the camp, “the matter of succession.”
Aerea freezes. She has been Maegor’s heir for over a decade now and while she knows it was meant to be a temporary position until he had a son that Aerea would likely marry, no such child has come forth and she has come to settle into her position, attending some of the council meetings and sitting at the foot of her great-uncle’s throne whenever he hears petitions.
She does not want to lose her position.
“I have been disappointed in my wives. They have not fulfilled their one purpose.”
She nods in agreement, knowing better than to defend her mother, Elinor Costayne or his dead wives.
“You have served me well as my heir, Aerea. You are a true dragon.”
“Thank you, kepus.”
“Now, though, I feel you could serve me in a better way.”
Aerea trembles, “of course, kepus.”
She does not know what he means, but there is a simplicity to avoiding her great-uncle’s wrath – you always agree and say yes, and you never refuse.
“Good,” he turns to her, pinching her chin between two large fingers and tilting her head up so she is looking him directly in the eyes.
His purple eyes are mirrors of her own and they glitter with a fervour that she usually only sees when bloodlust has overtaken him on the battlefield or during the execution of his enemies.
“You shall be my queen, Aerea. You shall give me sons and daughters where my wives have failed me. You shall ensure the continuation of our great House.”
Not bloodlust in his eyes, Aerea realies now. Lust for a dynasty, and lust for her and what her body can give him.
Aerea has always succeeded in the tasks her great-uncle has given her.
She has studied so that she can always answer when asked a question during council meetings.
She has become a formidable dragon rider with a deep bond with the Cannibal.
She has gone to war at his side and burned his enemies.
She has helped him to bring down Jaehaerys, his greatest rival for the throne.
Aerea has been all that Maegor asked of her and she will not falter now.
“I will not fail you, kepus,” she promises, “I swear it.”
His grip on her chin tightens and Aerea feels a rush of heat in her belly, a desire to be closer to him.
He leans down and kisses her, a possessive and all-encompassing thing. Then he bites her lip and draws blood, eyes alight as he licks it away.
“Come,” his hands slide down to her hips, tugging her even closer with a bruising hold, and he glances towards the bed on the other side of the tent, “what better place to conceive an heir than the battlefield where we have destroyed our enemies.”
Everyone will be able to hear. Everyone will know what they are doing. But Aerea does not care – Maegor has taught her that dragons do not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep.
“Yes, kepus,” she follows him to the bed, “I will give you a son.”
Aerea will secure the succession and the dynasty of dragons will live on through her.