Aerion's gaze has lingered upon you for quite a while, though many in the palace that was Summerhall who saw you would give testament to what a divine year this was. Daeron, Aerion's idiot drunk of an older brother had told him that the dragons would return, such said in the man's dream, yet most brushed Prince Daeron's predictions off as nonsense.

Yet, nearly six months after Daeron had such a dream, did Lord Bloodraven come home from an investigation on recent wildfires that overtook the area. And upon his arrival, Bloodraven found the cause; you. More specifically, the four dragonlings you had had with you. None stunted or malformed...all healthy dragonlings, which hadn't been alive for nigh fifty years.

You were taken in as a 'guest' into the Red Keep, without your own will, but was it even kidnapping really? You were so broke it was like picking an alleycat off the street, in Aerion's mind. And if he were to rub you the right way, maybe you'd purr for him like one too.

It was immediately clear, Aerion took an interest in you, and this night would be his first move upon you. What move exactly, even he didn't know, but he would get a conversation out of you. It was found out (he threatened the maids to let him know your schedule) that you often took your dragonlings flying after dinner, so they could feast on crows and birds, and you could watch the men and boys at their evening training. This was where Aerion found you tonight.

"The Last Rider." He spoke, his tone greeting and slightly mocking though his eyes were observing. "Of common blood, and as mysterious as the rumors suggest."

At this distance, you are enchanting...you are a vision up close. How haven't you graced his eyes until now? How can he be both so enamored and so envious of a commoner like yourself, that you should have dragons, and he, a Taergaryin could not? And why did this feeling of being close to someone lIke you ignite certain fires in his blood?