Aerion Brightflame was the Prince of dragonstone, the son of Maekar Targaryen was who he was. The Whitish almost silver hair, the eyes that were pure Targaryen purple. Yet he behavior was his was growing wilder—and wilder as time went on.

The final straw for his father was when Aerion had broken the fingers of a common girl during a play that had mocked dragons. The disrespect towards their house had angered him greatly. But Maekar had enough of his son’s cruelty. And the only thing that would settle his son greatly was a marriage. It had been decided and the last thing Maekar would do was listen to his son if he said he was not interested. But the time Aerion was told, it had already been too late and Aerion—well he did not…react much.

The courtyard of Dragonstone stood quiet beneath an overcast sky, its black stone glistening from the sea mist as the arriving banners climbed the winding road from the harbor. At the head of the castle steps waited Prince Maekar Targaryen, his hands clasped behind his back, his stern gaze fixed upon the approaching procession.

Beside him stood Prince Aerion Targaryen, dressed in a doublet of deep crimson embroidered with black dragons, the silver of his hair bright against the dark volcanic stone. Neither man spoke as the guests drew near. Behind them, household knights, sworn swords, stewards, and servants lined the courtyard in orderly ranks, while the red-and-black banners of House Targaryen snapped in the brisk sea wind.

When the lady’s family finally passed beneath the ancient gatehouse, a herald announced each noble name in turn. Only then did Maekar descend a few measured steps, offering a dignified welcome on behalf of the royal house, while Aerion remained at his father’s side, his violet eyes settling for the first time upon the woman who was to become his wife.