Bruised Pride [End]
Posted: Mon Jun 23, 2025 7:07 pm
Aerys awoke to silence.
The kind that presses against your chest before your eyes even open up.
He blinked once, then again, squinting against the pale amber glow of light filtering in from behind drawn curtains. The air reeked faintly of medical tinctures, metal, and heat—an oddly sterile sort of warmth.
He knew this place.
The high arch of the ceiling. The subtle hum of arcane monitors built into the walls. The faint flicker of gold-threaded banners that fluttered in his peripheral vision like ghosts of memory.
This was the royal infirmary; The Acrix Palace. He was home.
Aerys shifted, and pain surged through his body like wildfire. Every muscle screamed. A truly foreign sensation, considering the last time he'd broken a bone was in his adolescence. His ribs felt like they’d been pulverized and stitched together by a bolt of lightning. Bandages criss crossed his chest and arms, and a salve-soaked wrap covered half his face.
He was truly fucked up, and still—he tried to rise.
With a groan, Aerys pushed himself upright, arms trembling beneath his own weight. Every movement drew a chorus of agony, but he welcomed it. He needed to feel something, something that told him that battle wasn't just a dream.
And it wasn’t.
It came back to him in flashes—memories of his bout, starting with the face of some girl..
He remembered it was the same face from the wanted posters— but there had been more to her. A darkness beneath the grime and ruin that clung to her clothes. A kind of sad beauty overshadowed by that.. thing.
That beast.
It was a monster that rose from her flesh like a curse unbound, an avatar of destruction cloaked in skin. And its power was without limit, fury without purpose.
Aerys remembered their clash. He remembered the violence, the fire, the soil shattering beneath their feet while the sky split above them.
And yet, what lingered most was not the pain—though it was truly crippling—but the feeling of being small.
For the first time in years, Aerys felt outmatched. Truly, and completely. He had given it his all, but nothing he did struck true. Their fight lasted hours, but the creature was tireless. Boundless. Godlike.
Aerys lowered his eyes to his bruised hands, and clenched them as if to feel the pain in penance for defeat.
“..the hell was that bloody thing?”
A gentle knock at the chamber door snapped him from his thoughts and self loathing. A nurse entered—a young woman in Tyre regalia, and her green eyes went wide the moment she saw Aerys awake.
She gasped, nearly dropping the glass vial in her hand. “You’re—you're awake—!”
He winced as he turned his head. “Barely,” he rasped, voice raw like gravel beneath water. “I could use a glass of water though when you get the chance, yeah?”
“I-I’ll fetch Lord Tal’m!” she stammered, nearly tripping as she turned to run.
He almost smiled.
Minutes later, the heavy doors parted again, and Tal’m strode in with haste that betrayed his composed exterior. Relief cracked his stern expression the instant he laid eyes on Aerys.
“You stubborn.. stubborn boy,” Tal’m breathed, stepping beside the bed. “I'm convinced your lust for battle and glory won't be sated until you're finally dead.”
Aerys gave a slow, shallow smirk. “Please, only kind words until I can walk on me own.”
Tal’m exhaled sharply, the closest he’d come to laughter in weeks. He leaned in, clasping Aerys’ forearm with care.
“You had the place in uproar,” he said. “You were only just appointed Crown, and I didn’t know if you would—”
“Anyone else?” Aerys interrupted, his voice suddenly flat. “Casualties. From Dabih’r.”
Tal’m’s expression sobered. “No one else. The city was far enough from the chaos. You were the only soul we found in that crater.”
Aerys let the words sink in. Relief. Confusion. But mostly, disbelief.
Then came the question Tal’m had likely waited days to ask.
“Do you remember what did this to you, my lord?”
Aerys didn’t answer immediately. He let his gaze wander—to the curtains, the ceiling, to the portraits of his ancestors watching silently from above.
Then he looked back at Tal’m, eyes dark with something new. Something heavy.
“You’re gonna wanna’ sit down, mate." Aerys muttered, his voice low and reverent. "It's one hell of a story.”
The kind that presses against your chest before your eyes even open up.
He blinked once, then again, squinting against the pale amber glow of light filtering in from behind drawn curtains. The air reeked faintly of medical tinctures, metal, and heat—an oddly sterile sort of warmth.
He knew this place.
The high arch of the ceiling. The subtle hum of arcane monitors built into the walls. The faint flicker of gold-threaded banners that fluttered in his peripheral vision like ghosts of memory.
This was the royal infirmary; The Acrix Palace. He was home.
Aerys shifted, and pain surged through his body like wildfire. Every muscle screamed. A truly foreign sensation, considering the last time he'd broken a bone was in his adolescence. His ribs felt like they’d been pulverized and stitched together by a bolt of lightning. Bandages criss crossed his chest and arms, and a salve-soaked wrap covered half his face.
He was truly fucked up, and still—he tried to rise.
With a groan, Aerys pushed himself upright, arms trembling beneath his own weight. Every movement drew a chorus of agony, but he welcomed it. He needed to feel something, something that told him that battle wasn't just a dream.
And it wasn’t.
It came back to him in flashes—memories of his bout, starting with the face of some girl..
He remembered it was the same face from the wanted posters— but there had been more to her. A darkness beneath the grime and ruin that clung to her clothes. A kind of sad beauty overshadowed by that.. thing.
That beast.
It was a monster that rose from her flesh like a curse unbound, an avatar of destruction cloaked in skin. And its power was without limit, fury without purpose.
Aerys remembered their clash. He remembered the violence, the fire, the soil shattering beneath their feet while the sky split above them.
And yet, what lingered most was not the pain—though it was truly crippling—but the feeling of being small.
For the first time in years, Aerys felt outmatched. Truly, and completely. He had given it his all, but nothing he did struck true. Their fight lasted hours, but the creature was tireless. Boundless. Godlike.
Aerys lowered his eyes to his bruised hands, and clenched them as if to feel the pain in penance for defeat.
“..the hell was that bloody thing?”
A gentle knock at the chamber door snapped him from his thoughts and self loathing. A nurse entered—a young woman in Tyre regalia, and her green eyes went wide the moment she saw Aerys awake.
She gasped, nearly dropping the glass vial in her hand. “You’re—you're awake—!”
He winced as he turned his head. “Barely,” he rasped, voice raw like gravel beneath water. “I could use a glass of water though when you get the chance, yeah?”
“I-I’ll fetch Lord Tal’m!” she stammered, nearly tripping as she turned to run.
He almost smiled.
Minutes later, the heavy doors parted again, and Tal’m strode in with haste that betrayed his composed exterior. Relief cracked his stern expression the instant he laid eyes on Aerys.
“You stubborn.. stubborn boy,” Tal’m breathed, stepping beside the bed. “I'm convinced your lust for battle and glory won't be sated until you're finally dead.”
Aerys gave a slow, shallow smirk. “Please, only kind words until I can walk on me own.”
Tal’m exhaled sharply, the closest he’d come to laughter in weeks. He leaned in, clasping Aerys’ forearm with care.
“You had the place in uproar,” he said. “You were only just appointed Crown, and I didn’t know if you would—”
“Anyone else?” Aerys interrupted, his voice suddenly flat. “Casualties. From Dabih’r.”
Tal’m’s expression sobered. “No one else. The city was far enough from the chaos. You were the only soul we found in that crater.”
Aerys let the words sink in. Relief. Confusion. But mostly, disbelief.
Then came the question Tal’m had likely waited days to ask.
“Do you remember what did this to you, my lord?”
Aerys didn’t answer immediately. He let his gaze wander—to the curtains, the ceiling, to the portraits of his ancestors watching silently from above.
Then he looked back at Tal’m, eyes dark with something new. Something heavy.
“You’re gonna wanna’ sit down, mate." Aerys muttered, his voice low and reverent. "It's one hell of a story.”