Sworn Fate // Aegon Targaryen II

Chapter 6

Aerion stood staring at his Aunt Laena's coffin and desperately begged whichever gods were listening (whether they were the old gods, the new, or even the gods of Old Valyria) for this dreadful funeral to end.

The sun was glinting off the ocean and into his eyes as he stood alongside his family on the edge of one of Driftmark's many cliffs. His mother had her arms around Jace and Luke, while his father had a hand on his shoulder. Aerion assumed that it had been meant to be comforting, but as the funeral dragged on his father's grip had become so tight that his fingers were digging into Aerion's skin.

Earlier, both Corlys and Rhaenys had shared beautiful eulogies about their lost daughter. Aerion had expected his father to cry, but instead he had kept his eyes firmly fixed down towards the sea, grip slowly tightening the longer his parents spoke.

Thankfully, they had finally moved to the final stage of the service where his aunt's body would be committed back to the sea as was befit for a true Velaryon. His great uncle Vaemond took charge of this part of the service, speaking in High Valyrian as he gave Lady Laena her final farewell.

"Salt courses through Velaryon blood. Ours runs thick. Ours runs true," Vaemond proclaimed, fixing his gaze firmly on Aerion and his brothers. Aerion slightly tensed, gritting his teeth. He stared back at Vaemond steadily, doing his best to keep his expression stoic and unbothered. He was of true Velaryon blood. Maybe not by birth, but he was his father's son and he refused to let anyone take that away from him.

"And ours must never thin," Vaemond's eyes were dark and unyielding as he kept them fixed on Aerion's. He supposed his great uncle had a particular hatred for him since he would be the one to inherit Driftmark.

Daemon's sudden chuckle broke their stares from one another as they both turned to look at him. He seemed amused by Vaemond's speech and the idea that he was basically proclaiming to all who knew High Valyrian that he thought Aerion and his brothers were bastards. He seemed dismissive of the entire idea or, at the very least, was trying to redirect Vaemond's attention onto himself

To his relief, it worked. Vaemond's mouth pressed into a thin line before he sharply turned his head away from Daemon and nodded to the men who were in charge of lowering Laena's coffin into the sea.

Aerion glanced over at Aegon who was pretending to be appropriately somber, but he knew him well enough to see the boredom on his face. Clearly, Aegon hadn't made much progress with his High Valyrian, otherwise he may have been more entertained by Vaemond's previous speech. He would have to inform him later about what Vaemond had said.

Vaemond continued his eulogy, but thankfully turned his words back to focusing on Lady Laena as her coffin was pushed over the edge of the cliff and into the sea below where her body would rest, forever surrounded by the gentle lull of the sea.

Once the funeral was over, they were redirected to the reception which was being held on the main terrace of High Tide. Aerion didn't see the point of having a reception after a funeral. He hadn't known his aunt well enough to be overcome with grief, but he couldn't imagine having to sit around and put on a brave face after having had to say goodbye to a loved one for the last time.

At some point in between the cliffs and now, his father had slipped away to grieve in private. At least, that was what Aerion assumed. His mother had gone into the castle not long after in search of him.

He and Jace stood quietly by the terrace wall, gazing out at the sea. "This is horrible," Jace said softly. "We should have been able to go to Lord Lyonel and Ser Harwin's funeral."

Aerion quickly swung his gaze back to his brother. "That's ridiculous."

Jace crossed his arms. "We have as much right to be grieving as Baela and Rhaena."