(Third Person POV)
[The Steptsones]
Everyone makes mistakes.
Nobody in the world is as perfect to go their entire lives without making a single mistake. A peasant boy might drop the bucket of water from the well simply because he did not listen to another telling him to hold it with both hands. A Lord might plunge his entire life in inconvenience by falling for the temptation of the whorehouse, fathering a bastard before his wife could bear him a son, causing drama.
Even a King and his kin can make mistakes. Some say that Viserys made the mistake of making Rhaenyra Targaryen his Heir. Some others even state that the late Jaehaerys made the mistake of choosing Viserys as his heir, believing that Rhaenys was the rightful heir. Regardless, those choices are made.
The mistake Prince Daemon Targaryen made? Bringing Aerion to the Stepstones. The place where he believed it would be peaceful enough for his son to spend some time.
The Triarchy assaulted the islands occupied by Daemon and House Velaryon shortly after Aerion landed on the island. It had not been a day, merely six hours after Vermithor descended upon the sands of the Stepstones. This sparked a vicious fighting that stretched out for an entire week, with many falling to the bloodshed.
It was unprecedented and with Ser Laenor Velaryon absent, the Triarchy believed that they could take out the Velaryon fleet while avoiding Caraxes. While they had the numbers, Daemon still had a dragon and Aerion was there.
At first, Daemon was opposed to Aerion participating in the fighting but his son was adamant about fighting. Aerion told his father that he would spend most of the time on dragonback, breathing flames and warding away attackers from the bases that Daemon had built. And for most of the fighting, Aerion did just that.
But this would be the start of another stretch of war that would take place in the Stepstones, one that would last for much longer than Prince Daemon would hope for.
And that was his mistake.
One that he was not sure he would regret or not.
**************
"You should get back to King's Landing as soon as possible." Daemon said to Aerion as they stood over a table, "This is no place for a boy."
"I will not leave, Father." Aerion said, "This is my fight too."
"It is not." Daemon said seriously as he looked at a map, "My error was bringing you here. You had your fun, it is time to leave."
Lord Corlys Velaryon stood across from them, "Word has still not reached Laenor." He said seriously, "The presence of another dragon might be needed until he reaches us."
"Yea, but if my son is terribly wounded or worse until yours returns?" Daemon scowled, "What would happen, Lord Corlys? What would you do?"
"I can handle myself, Father." Aerion said
"No." Daemon said, "What you have done up until now is merely kept the rats at bay atop your dragon. The real fighting is about to start and things will get bloodier from then."
"I have to agree with you, My Prince." Corlys said, "We have received word that the Triarchy have gotten backed up by an unknown Essosi force. They have more men than we could hope for, more ships, and now more territory. Until the rest of our forces join us, we are stuck on this island, having Caraxes and Vermithor warding them off."
"All the more reason for Aerion to leave." Daemon said seriously, "If things get out of hand, they will target him."
"I am not going to leave, Father." Aerion said, "I have made my decision. Do you truly think I will leave these men to fight a seemingly hopeless fight? I do not know what they think of having one dragon fighting alongside them but if they see that the second one flees, what would that do to their morale?"
"I care not for their morale as much as I care for your life!" Daemon said, "I will not tell you again. The moment the fighting has died down, you will get top Vermithor and fly your way to King's Landing."
Aerion stood his ground, "No."
"You stupid boy." Daemon scowled, "This is not a game. This is not a hunting expedition in the Vale. These aren't mountain savages. This is War, boy. Do you hear me? War!"
"I hear you just fine." Aerion said seriously, "All the more reason to stay. I am not a scared little boy that will flee at the first sign of true battle. I will stay and fight, on dragonback or on foot. It does not matter to me what you think or say, I am much more than your son."
Daemon gritted his teeth, "That is that stupid Royce pride of yours...that stupid Knight mentality." He clenched his fists, "This is not the time to show off, Aerion!"
"No." Aerion said, "It is not my Royce blood that is speaking, it is your blood in my veins, Father. I am not just any Targaryen, I am the son of Daemon Targaryen. I will prove myself in battle....."
"Whether you like it or not."
***************
[A Couple of Weeks Later...]
"Well, it appears Lord Aerion is proving himself to be quite capable." Corlys said as Daemon was sitting on a rock in front of him, "He is quite something."
Daemon scoffed, "A fool." He said, "He should have left long ago."
Daemon was covered in blood, his black armor stained in red as he held his helm in his hand. Corlys as well was covered in the blood of Triarchy warriors that they had just finished fighting. All around them, there was nothing but smoke and flames, many shouts of pain as the remaining Triarchy fighters were being finished off.
In the distance, Caraxes was heard roaring, looking at the sight of many corpses scattered around the beach they were in. To his left, around a hundred meters away, Vermithor was seen snarling and growling.
In front of Vermithor, Aerion stood. He was cleaning his blade with a cloth, his face covered in blood and his white hair was stained deeply in red. Other than the blood, Aerion did not seem to be harmed in any way. He had a dead serious look in his eyes, one that told anyone not to get near him.
"Did the taste of battle satisfy you, Vermithos?" Aerion said in high-valyrian, "There is plenty more to come, be ready."
Vermithor leaned in and nudged Aerion in the back gently, letting out a deep rumble.
Aerion closed his eyes, "Battle...." he said as he sighed
He could still hear the sounds of clashing steel and the shouts of burning men. They were fresh in his mind, it is all he could think of.
He gripped his sword handle tightly, "This is what I live for...." He muttered to himself, "To fight, to do battle.....It is my purpose...."
"It is what I am meant for."