Aerion Targaryen. (24)

The match ended with a bang.

The other knight's lance shattered against Aerion Targaryen's chest, but the impact was enough to throw him from his horse.

The entire field fell silent.

It took him several seconds to stand up.

When he did, he could barely stand up straight.

—

That night, the camp was strangely quiet.

You stopped in front of the master's tent.

You hesitated for a few seconds before entering.

Aerion was sitting on the edge of the bed while the maester finished bandaging his shoulder and several ribs.

Upon seeing you, he looked up.

—I wasn't expecting any visitors.

—I didn't expect to find you alive either.

He let out a laugh that ended in a grimace of pain.

—That was cruel.

The master finished his work and left the tent, leaving them alone.

You noticed the bandages that covered almost his entire torso.

—You must be suffering a lot.

Aerion took the glass of water that was next to him.

—I've felt worse pains.

—That's a lie.

He barely smiled.

-Yeah.

It is.

You moved a little closer.

—Why do you insist on acting as if nothing happened?

Aerion remained silent.

Then he answered calmly.

—Because if a prince shows weakness, everyone will remember it.

You looked at him for a few seconds.

—Now there's nobody else.

He held your gaze.

For the first time in a long time, he didn't respond with a joke or an arrogant smile.

She just let out a sigh.

-So…

He admitted in a low voice.

—Yes, it hurts.

And it was the first time you saw the proud prince lower his guard in front of someone.