Chapter Text
Baelor sat at his desk, with his head in his hands. He could not fathom how this stupid tourney for a teenage new lady had turned into this holy mess. Actually, he could. He had been busy as of late, and he left Maekar in charge of his own children. Evidently, allowing his brother to raise his children was not a reasonable division of labour. He understood his brother's desire to not hate his second eldest. Aerion was a product of the lack of dragons their family was once known for and the absolute lack of direction in life. He had nothing major to focus on and the hobbies he was allowed were not good.
He had become cruel to a fault. He did not entirely blame Aegon for choosing to run versus stay around Aerion and Daeron when one was constantly in the cups to try to get rid of the dreams that plagued him and the other becoming more and more insane as a response to boredom. He did blame Aegon for the absolutely rubbish decision to not tell his knight friend that he was a prince, and even more so that he did not run to Baelor who was here this time or his father when he wanted to save that poor woman from Aerion's wrath. Either one of them could have saved the girl without committing a crime against the family.
The gods would be on the knight's side. The moral police would side with him too. But he had attacked a prince, and the prince's word was law. Even if Aerion could be reasoned with, he had his pride hurt that his little brother had been willing to drag an outsider into their business. Which of course, he had every right to be upset by.
The trial by combat would have been reasonable for such a situation. Aerion would have lost but he would have yielded, and the knight his youngest nephew had found would be honorable enough to pull back. He should have known Aerion with his love of the histories and the Targaryens of old would find a loophole. A trial by seven would be a bloody mess.
The trial would be a mess even without his nephew's decision to try to avert the whole bloody mess of it all by leaving Ser Dunk without his needed number of knights for the trial. By doing that, he had gone and ensured that Baelor only had one true option.
Baelor could ignore the righteous call of Ser Dunk. Many were, because Aerion had a noble name and a noble reputation. And of those who knew the full truth, Aerion had admitted had it been anyone but a random knight who had pulled him off the girl, he likely would have accepted the reprimand. But the one who heard the first call was Ser Dunk, and he did ride to the defense of the innocent even when it cost him much.
Baelor could not ignore the second call. He didn't have his armor, but he would ride out anyway. He would ride out against the king's guard, his brother, and his nephews. He hated every single second of this. He hated that this still had the ability to go horribly wrong. He hated that none of them would forgive each other lightly for this.
The dance of dragons hadn't been so long ago to fade from memory. He wanted nothing less than to remind the people that the Targaryens could and would go against their own sometimes. However, the alternative would be to be forsaken by the gods when they needed the support the most, because they had turned away from the righteous path.
A knock sounded outside the door. "Come in," Baelor shouted. Please let this be a small problem and not something else that weighed heavily on his soul.
Aerion walked inside. He raised a brow. "Your man said you weren't seeing anyone, but I wanted to come."
Baelor groaned. He should have denied entry. This would not be simple. Still, he gave his nephew the most genuine smile that he could offer. "What could you possibly need of me, right now, Aerion? Do you not have a fight to prepare for?"
"
I was hoping that you would consider fighting for me tomorrow."
Baelor was so shocked that he dropped the pen he was using on the letter he had been penning to the king to tell him about this whole mess. He stared at Aerion. "What?"
"I know that you do not believe me to be in the right here, and you have a good point. I was not thinking when I attacked that woman. Sometime after the fight, I will go to her and offer her a proper princess' dowery and a formal apology. The least that she is owed."
"So, why are you here?"
Aerion shrugged. "When we were younger, much much younger, and all of us were at the red keep. You used to tell us that if we ever had need of your defense, the gods, the dragons, and all the men in the streets couldn't stop you from coming."
"I recall."
"I could use a defense now."
"You won't lose anything you can't afford to lose in this fight," Baelor said softly. "Ser Dunk is an honorable man. If he gets the upper hand and you yield, he will honor that."
Aerion blinked. "And if I would prefer not to be injured to that extent?"
Baelor stared at his nephew. "Seriously?"
Aerion inclined his head to the armor in the corner of the room. "It seems to me that you were looking for the fight anyway."
"Because I'm going to stop you from being able to take Ser Dunk's head with your little trick with calling back one of his knights, you pompous asshole."
Aerion paled.
Baelor sucked in a breath. "I apologize. I should not have called you names."
"You are going to fight me. And father. And Daeron. Over my actions that night. Truly?"
He sighed. "No."
"What?"
"Not over that night's actions. That night's actions, honestly, aren't even your primary fault. If Aegon had gone to your father or me that night, none of this would be happening. I'm fighting because of Aegon, not you."
"He wouldn't go to father," Aerion admitted softly. "He assumes that Aegon is telling tall tales about me."
"Why would he assume that I wonder?" Baelor glared at his nephew.
Aerion had the decency to look away from him with a faint blush forming on his cheeks. "The two of us got into a rather heated disagreement when he decided to become a squire."
"Yeah?"
"You remember how Daeron hazed me when I joined?"
Baelor huffed out a small laugh. Little Aerion had thrown such a strop over that joke when he had found out it was a joke. Good light hearted fun that was. "I do."
"I wanted to pull something similar on him. Only I probably should have double checked that if I sent him down to the dungeons there was no one questionable down there."
"Oh? Did something happen to him?"
Aerion shrugged. "I wouldn't know. He went to father, I know that much. I know that when he asked me about it, I explained I was pulling something similar to Daeron and that I'd talk to Aegon about it. But when I went to talk to Aegon, he refused to listen. I thought he was having a bit of a moment, similar to me about it. Went about trying to be his knight for him to squire for, but he got more and more agitated. He ran off soon after. Daeron said to let him be."
"Daeron said that? Daeron made a call for your youngest brother on purpose?"
Aerion nodded. "Said he saw it in his dreams. I told dad. Dad said it'd be fine because every knight was going to be here, and we'd pick him back up. Wasn't prepared to see Egg with his head all shaved on the shoulders of a hedge knight, but can't say that it was completely out of the realm of possible."
Baelor inclined his head. "Right. Doesn't explain why he didn't come to me."
"Doesn't it?"
Baelor frowned.
"He doesn't have the same core memories, uncle. He knows you primarily as father's brother and hand of the king. The uncle who read us stories, well, he was still little more than a babe."
"Shit," Baelor groaned.
Aerion twitched. "You would have pulled me off her, yeah?"
"Of course, I would have."
"You wouldn't have broken my teeth though, yeah?"
"Wouldn't have had to, would have I?"
Aerion shook his head.
"I would have dragged you off of her, made sure she got her apology and at least some money. I'm not sure I'd go a princess' dowery, but I'm certainly not going to stop you if that's what you feel is a necessary price for what you did."
"And?"
"You never discipline us in front of others. What would you have done if you were the one to punish me and not a fucking hedge knight from the middle of nowhere?"
Baelor stood up from the desk. He strode up to Aerion. "You're a fool. You know exactly what I would have done. I would have taken you back across my knees until you remembered that you're supposed to be a damn prince and not a blasted noble willing to use his name to hurt others."
Aerion sighed.
Baelor eyed him. "What are you thinking?"
"I'll pardon him. I can say something about my love for my brother overcoming my need for justice. Probably throw weight on the mother and her mercy or some shit."
"What?"
"I'm not fighting you on that field, uncle. If you're determined to ensure that he has a fair shot of it, and I've already meddled too much to give him that without your presence on his side, then my only other option is to ensure that he's not in any trouble. Can I trust as hand of the king, you can make sure the legal proceedings for that are done as well?"
Baelor searched his nephew's face for any trace of a lie. He had known him since he was a young child, and this was not a face he was accustomed to. He wasn't quite ashamed. He was more quiet.
"You are my prince," Aerion whispered softly. "You will make a wonderful king. And I refuse to be the reason why you never sit upon the iron throne."
Baelor sighed. "Aerion…"
"I'm sorry about what happened," he repeated softly. "I'll figure it out with the trial to not go down. And I'll go talk with the girl. I'm sure I know what you're next to say, and I don't know when I'll next have an opportunity to speak to Egg, but I'll do my best to make it up to him."
Baelor stopped him from leaving entirely. His hand wrapped around his nephew's arm. "Wait."
Aerion froze.
"Your brother isn't just on you. I'll make sure he arrives here before we all leave. We've got to talk about his current plan which appears to be to squire under Ser Dunk."
"Oh."
"Although when I get him here, I would appreciate your attempts not making him any more angry at all the rest of us. Especially as I'm going to impress upon him the fact that he nearly had four members of the royal family willing to take up arms over a stupid decision he made that could have killed many."
"Right, yeah. I was planning on trying to say something like sorry again."
"You're welcome to try, but I've never seen a child quite as stubborn as Egg." Baelor flashed him a quick smile.
Aerion grinned back at him. "Yeah, but he's my tiny brother. I should make an effort."
"Good man," Baelor offered with a quick pat to his shoulder. "As for the rest of it, tell Ser Dunk that upon word from your Maester in training brother, you've decided that mercy is the mark of the mother's blessing, and he has taken good care of your youngest brother, that deserves deep consideration. Along with the fact he was working on at least partial orders from said prince, thus you've decided to pardon him under the assumption that he continues to uphold his oaths."
Aerion breathed out. "You're helping me," he muttered.
"Well, yes, you did come to me for help, didn't you?"
"I thought it would be a different type of help."
"You and I both," Baelor agreed. "But this is now where we are." He crossed back over to his desk. He looked at the letter. He crumbled the damn thing up in his hand. Best to report this to the king now that the changes have happened the way they have.
Aerion inclined his head. "May I take my leave to go handle this?"
"Of course. I suggest you start with telling your father and brother, then finding Ser Dunk. You don't have to worry about the fancy words for them."
Aerion took a short bow before retreating away from the room.
Baelor wasn't sure why, but something felt different when he sat back down. Perhaps it was relief that his family wasn't coming apart by the seams any longer. Or perhaps it was hope that somehow this event would reach Aerion and he would stop being such a troublesome bother to every event that happens to accomplish finding him at.