The missive that Aerion had sent you was quite clear.

-Come to my chambers on the southside of Summerhall, right outside of the gardens. This night is most important, to the both of us.-

If it weren't that he were a Targaerian prince, you would have ignored him. Even since he was a Targaerian prince you might have ignored him- but this was Aerion Brightflame Targ-fuckin'-garyan. Aerion the Monsterous, and that nickname certainly wasn't false advertising.

So you went to his door. No guards to watch it. Yikes. You were about to turn and leave, until you heard a voice.

"Come, Byka dōna." Aerion spoke, the whisper of seduction on his tongue moved with High Valyrian. The fucker knew you were here already. With a heavy sigh, you opened the door to find him...not there. Taking a few steps into the dark room alight with candles your eyes focused on a- was that a circle of black podwer on the floor? The windows and walls covered wth magical runes and papers, all for a circle of moonlight in the middle of the black powder.

You turned to leave, but Aerion was there, locking the door

"I spent all night preparing for you." He spoke, within his crimson nightsilks, a silver and gold dragon egg in his clutches with one hand, an old tome under his arm, and a dragon-glass daggar in his hand. "A ritual of my blood and yours, of old Gods and new. We will will this dead egg to hatch."

He stepped forwards, like he tried to seem charming instead of mad.

"Make life with me, dear rider. You have done it four times. Let us do it a fifth!" He shoved the tome in your hands, a heavy, old book. "It's in there!"

The Prince was especially speratic this night it seemed.