First Encounter

"Pyke… I'd be more excited to see my home if I were you." Viserys remarked, looking at Asha Greyjoy's unmoving expression. "It has some wonder to it, I'll admit."

"Should I be excited to make my people work for you?"

"For the mighty Dragon Emperor, if that makes them feel any better." Viserys countered. "If he was Ironborn, you would all sing his praises. War is your predominant trade… and Aerion is the greatest warmonger of them all. Unfortunately, there aren't any nearby lands for the Ironborn to take in his name… so, we have to take a different approach."

"You have plenty of ships and sailing men, despite the loss of all the reavers which I can balance out with my own and Lord Tywin's men. These resources ought to be used properly, no?"

"Doing what, exactly?"

"Trading," Viserys replied simply. "The reputation of the Ironborn isn't the best for that, however, and that is precisely why I am here. The least reputable people accompanied by the respected, feared and regal banner of House Targaryen. There'll be plenty of silver and gold to go around, I'm sure, and it'll be a far more sustainable way of living for your people."

"... Hmph, that is not our way."

"But it will be." Viserys' violet eyes seemed to glow for a second.

~

"Pfft... THE bastard is a half-brother of mine?" Artos Baratheon glared at Jon Targaryen.

"Why don't you shut it if you don't have anything nice to say, older brother?" Jocelyn replied. "He didn't do anything wrong. In truth, he was the one who was wronged."

"..." The look on Catelyn Stark's face was priceless. All those years of berating 'Jon Snow' for being her husband's bastard all seemed so silly and foolish. Now, he had been elevated to a position that was only beneath Aerion Targaryen himself... even in terms of succession, he was right in line after the Dragon Emperor since he had no children of his own.

From a bastard to a trueborn prince...

"Mother... you really jumped to another ship when the other started sinking." Artos Baratheon couldn't help but voice his dislike. "It all worked out in the end, huh..."

"..." Lyanna Baratheon didn't quite have a counter for that.

"Shut up, brat and show some respect." Aerion turned to Artos Baratheon, not believing that he had to defend Lyanna of all people. However, this was a matter relating to his brother indirectly. "You wouldn't even be alive if Lyanna had remained a widow."

"... Hmph." Artos stood up and left the hall abruptly, not wishing to remain.

"Why did you never tell me?"

"Do you even need to ask that question?" Lyanna Baratheon's response to Robert was sharp if anything. "I should have told you why? So that you would take his life?"

"... Ugh, one dragonspawn was enough. Now there's another and he's your, my wife's, son... hahahaha, the Gods hate me too much." Robert Baratheon was angered by the truth that not only did Rhaegar Targaryen steal away his betrothed and her heart... he also left her with a son that she decided to protect. "My son was right, she jumps ship when the one she's on is sinking."

"And you're a faithful husband? Drinking and whoring every passing day like there was no tomorrow, before and after we were married? Remind me, how many bastards do you have?"

"What does that matter?"

"What does that matter? I'm your wife, you fool, and you've never done a single thing to change your nature. You're both a terrible husband and a father who only truly cares for his own pleasure. The truth is, Rhaegar was a more noble, proud and dutiful man than you'll ever be."

"ENOUGH!"

Robert's fist smashed against his table, creating a shockwave that consequently broke it completely. Then he rose to his feet and, out of anger, raised his hand... but it stopped right there.

"You dimwitted FOOL!"

Aerion's roar willed Robert Baratheon to make his swift leave, stopping him from committing an act he would be regretted after.

"Was he going to...?" Jon didn't finish his question, however.

"Thank you, Your Grace." Lyanna Baratheon managed a brave smile as she courteously bowed to Aerion.

"... You spoke far too much." Aerion remarked, shaking his head as he saw the state of the feast. "Now, this is quite the mess... sorry your celebration had to start this way, Jon."

"It isn't your fault."

"I should've been wiser and sent Robert away beforehand." Aerion sighed. "Well, no point in dwelling on it now..."

~

There was a growing rift between Robert Baratheon and his wife to the point where neither were willing to see each other in any way. Artos Baratheon sided with his father while Jocelyn took the side of her mother in the ordeal. Meanwhile, the youngest of the three children, Orys, was still in the care of his mother.

Aerion decided to take swift action, sending both Robert and Artos to Storm's End where the latter would be under Lord Stannis' tutelage. Robert, on the other end, would use this time to reflect on himself. As for Lyanna, Jocelyn and Orys, they would remain in the North until further notice.

Jon Targaryen had expressed a strong will to travel with Aerion...a wish that he would gladly grant. However, before showing him to the warmth of Sunspear, the Dragon Emperor went on a journey of his own.

Riding south to grab his armour and the book of Hematomancy, he rode back north and past the Wall. The cold air was suffocating for Aerion, who had to resort to flames to keep himself warm. Naturally, his flames, his greatest strength, was weaker in the harsh frozen lands beyond the Wall and would dwindle the further he went. Knowing this, he did not seek a direct confrontation with the Night King but rather a way of halting his advance.

This would be done by ridding him of a necromancer's greatest resource - the living.

With a heavy heart, Aerion once again found his flames directed towards the lives of innocents. It was not something he enjoyed nor desired to do. But, if he could not weaken the Night King while strengthening himself... if he were trampled by him when the time for their battle came...

Would he not lose everything after? His life, his love, his family, his subjects, his legacy, his dynasty, his Empire, his people... it would all be lost.

Aerion's twenty Soul Knights proved to be highly effective, each of them singlehandedly crushing any sort of Wildling threat to the Night's Watch and stopping Wildling raids south of the Wall. Aerion was somewhat amused, realising that the Wall could be scaled over by mere Wildlings or simply crossed around by boats (something the Night King could possibly attempt). However, he knew that there had to be a larger gathering of them somewhere... and so, he expanded his search party to several soul dragons.

"Found them..." Aerion's breath was so cold it almost turned to ice immediately. He chuckled a little, watching through the eyes of his dragon. "Wildlings... they call my people kneelers and yet they still choose a King to lead them."

He created another, riding it to the Frostfangs where he had seen a horde of wildlings gathered. Several hours later, he had arrived to a bitter sight...

Not a single one of the wildlings remained 'living'. For that matter, each and every one of them were now dead men... living.

'I've been outsmarted...?'

Aerion looked up, seeing a massive wave of sharp ice falling onto him. Instinctively, he channelled Aeromancy to crush the ice and succeded... until another wave of ice came from the ground up, erasing his soul dragon and forcing Aerion to make his daring descent onto the ground. Abusing the barrier of his book, power of Aeromancy and his World Sovereign's Boots, he was able to land safely.

It was then that the army of over ten thousand wights turned to him and started to charge the Dragon Emperor... but he simply raised his hand and formed a Greater Hurricane, destroying every last one of them.

'Where's the Cryomancer?'

Aerion looked around... and, through the distant fog, several figures emerged. Several turned to dozens and dozens turned to hundreds, led by a rather distinct man. He was as blue as ice yet his most distinct feature was his glowing dark blue eyes. The horns on his head resembled a crown, reminding him of the Night's King he had dreamed of. For a moment, there was no expression on his face... remaining still, until a mocking smirk appeared.

"Your plan was a good one."

"... What have you been waiting for all this time?" Aerion frowned, asking a question that had been on his mind. If the Night's King was as mighty as himself... or stronger, for that matter... what was he doing north of the Wall? Taking a long piss?

"Waiting... waiting for the day that I could kill my tormentors. Now, I waited for you... and you came." He seemed to smile, taking several steps forward. "It's good that you-"

Flames lit up Aerion's Ambition, releasing a mighty wave of flame that soared towards the Night King while he spoke.

Aerion frowned as the dust settled... and the Night King emerged unhurt. Only the Others around him had burned slightly but not enough to die.

"I'm not quite sure if you know - but I do have some fire resistance." The Night King taunted him. "Try as you might, your flames will not kill me. They lack the ferocity-"

'Die...!'

Aerion channelled both Aeromancy and Electromancy, releasing a Greater Tornado of chilling lightning... but the Night King simply raised his arm and froze the entire Tornado, sending it to the side as if it were a toy he didn't like.

'.... What...'

Aerion stepped back in disbelief. His mightiest magic abilities had proved to be child's play to the Night King... who seemed to have an additional blue crown floating atop his head whenever he channelled Cryomancy.

'He's a King level mage...?'

"Join me, Aerion Targaryen. Together we can build a proper world... the perfect world that you desire so much. No one will ever question you again and you will reign for all of eternity as Dragon Emperor of the World." The Night King proposed as he walked closer.

"... Nonsense. Isn't your primary goal to end mankind?"

"End it and let it be reborn in ice." The Night King replied. "I mean no ill will for anyone. In truth, I am simply forcing my blessing onto others. What is the wrong in that, Aerion Targaryen?"

"You wish for a world of undead? A world of stagnation, where nothing ever changes?" Aerion frowned, raising his sword. "You wish to take away every man's freedom and pleasure for something so pointless?"

"... Hmph." The Night King sighed. "Half of your subjects are dead men walking and you speak of free will! Tell me, what have pitiful men and women ever done with their free will? Slain their kin to elevate themselves, trampled over those who are less fortunate, waged wars over lands, betrayed their closest friends and constantly fought with each other over the most pointless of things. Man's desire is its downfall and I will be the one to erase it."

"..."

"You understand, don't you? No one will ever go hungry, no one will ever freeze from the cold and no man will kill another under my will. They will all work together for greater things, perfectly unified! This is the world that you, too, desire but you're too afraid to admit it!"

Aerion, after hearing the Night King's explanation, remained firm in his beliefs.

"You're wrong... the dead are dead and their duty is to help the living build a greater future. That is my way and you, walking, talking, overgrown shard of horned ice, will never stain my world with your foolish ideals!"

"What you wish for is a world where no one will ever be born. Nothing will ever change... no one will ever grow... what kind of 'living' world is that? It may as well be dead!"

"It seems that we have conflicting views." The Night King shrugged. "I gave you a kind proposal and you rejected it so fiercely that it hurt my cold heart. Now, I have no choice but to turn you to my side - one way or the other."

From the ice-cold ground, chains emerged and wrapped themselves around Aerion's limbs... pulling him down. Within an instant, he was sealed to the freezing ground. He tried to counter the ice with various types of magic but it was all for nought...

"Perhaps, if we fought in a land full of fire mountains, you would've stood some chance." The Night King remarked. "Even then, Winter comes with me..."

As he stood over Aerion, the Night King formed a sword of pure ice and stared into his violet eyes.

"It is true... you are perfectly beautiful, even amongst your valyrian kind. Everyone cheers your name, your people love and adore you for being so strong, proud and charming. What will happen when you become one of Us? Will they dread you, will they despise you? Will they betray you, even?"

"Once, I was a man just like you... although less physically blessed. Until those children cursed me and I became the first Other. They tasked me with slaying my own people, the First Men... and I obeyed them. Then, when we grew too strong, those children turned on me... and fought alongside the First Men."

"... After having a mind of my own again, I knew that I could no longer return to who I was. Do you understand now, Aerion Targaryen? If I cannot live in their world, then I will make them all live in my world!"

"So this is your true intention?" To think that my greatest adversary is no more than a man child who feels isolated." Aerion spat in the Night King's face. "You speak so righteously of yourself when your true intention is simply selfish vengeance on everyone for protecting themselves against you. Not ending hunger, man's conflicts and misfortunes... those were all pretty little lies to make yourself look better. You're still a man behind that sheet of ice, after all..."

"I will make you understand my suffering, Aerion Targaryen."

The Night King lowered his sword, ignoring the insult and pointing his blade directly to Aerion's chest. He seemed to be taking his time, underestimating the silver-haired man beneath him.

"Once you do... no one will stand in our way."