Aerion Targaryen. 6

You found Aerion Targaryen long after the fight was over.

Only.

Sitting against a stone wall behind the stables.

Dried blood stained his shirt.

His lip was split.

One eye was beginning to darken.

And one of her hands trembled slightly as she tried to wipe her face.

For a moment you said nothing.

Because you'd never seen it like that before.

So defeated.

—Aerion…

-Go away.

Her voice sounded harsh.

-No.

—I don't want company.

You approached anyway.

He didn't even look up.

—The whole castle is laughing at me.

He murmured.

-No.

-Yeah.

He took a deep breath.

—And the worst part is that they're right.

That made you stop.

Aeron never admitted defeat.

Never.

—It was a fight.

—It was a humiliation.

Silence fell between you.

—Look at me.

He said suddenly.

-That?

—Look at me.

You did it.

And for the first time you saw something in him that you had never seen before.

Shame.

No going.

No arrogance.

Shame.

—Don't look at me like that.

Whisper.

-As well as?

Aerion looked away.

—As if you felt sorry for me.

Your heart sank.

Because you understood that was what hurt him the most.

Not the blows.

Not defeat.

But that someone would see it broken.

You sat down next to him.

Without saying a word.

Without trying to fix it.

Without trying to convince him.

And after a few minutes, Aerion rested his arms on his knees.

Tired.

Exhausted.

—Today was a bad day.

He murmured.

-Yeah.

—A horrible one.

-Yeah.

For the first time, a small smile appeared on his injured face.

—Thank you for staying.

He said it so quietly you could barely hear him.

And for a second he looked much younger again.

Just a wounded boy trying to pretend everything was okay.

Although he clearly wasn't.