Chapter Text
Aerion wants to scream until his throat grows bloody.
Never did he imagine he would end up here, in some rundown stable outside of a shitty inn and tavern in the middle of nowhere. This is so unbecoming of him, truly. He’s supposed to be a Targaryen prince, son of the king’s fourth child, and blood of the dragon, yet here he is.
Still, he can’t quite leave this hell, not when his guards are still in the area, searching for him. They’re a determined lot, and he knows better than anyone that they won’t be leaving until they’ve succeeded. It could mean their heads if they return to Summerhall without him.
Truly, this is the worst night of Aerion’s life, and all because of his stupid father and uncle, who insist on mating him off as if he were some kind of possession and not a dragon in human form.
He’s been here for almost a day and a half, and he’s surely going mad. The Seven are being quite cruel to him. Is it not enough for them that he already has no dragon despite being born into a bloodline of dragon lords? Must they really bestow upon him even more hardship?
He was meant to be heading to Lys to be exiled after defying his uncle’s orders. Orders that demanded he be mated off to some beta lord of his uncle’s choosing to reinforce alliances. Aerion had refused to mate the beta, and his uncle and father would have none of it, scolding him for failing to do his part in upholding their great house.
So, because of his defiance, it was decided that he would be sent to Lys until he saw reason and then allowed to return home and get mated.
They think he cannot handle exile. They think he’s too soft after being brought up in castles and being the grandchild of the king, but they’re wrong.
Aerion would sooner swallow fire than fall into line.
They think so little of him as if he were not a dragon. So, he’s done the only rational thing possible given his situation. He managed to ditch the guards meant to escort him to the port from Summerhall. He only told one of his siblings his plan, just as a precaution, and because he knows he can trust his youngest brother, even if they are constantly at war with each other.
Now, Aerion is hiding at some stable, in clothes that are quite honestly beneath him, until he figures out a better plan now that he’s managed to get this far.
Getting rid of his clothing had been his only option since he would stick out wearing noble garments. He’d exchanged them with some omega travelers in order to hide his scent. The clothes he obtained are itchy, but well Aerion can’t complain too much since they’ve done a marvelous job at keeping his scent hidden.
Still, he wishes he could set them on fire.
He’s not sure how much longer he should stay at this stable before heading out on foot. He wants to head toward the upcoming tourney at Ashford because it’s the most ideal place to hide, right in plain sight, since his uncle and father will be in attendance.
Besides, he’s sure his father will be enraged once he learns that Aerion has gone missing and will surely set off in search of him soon. It’s the best possible plan he’s managed to come up with, so it’ll have to work.
Traveling as a lone omega can be dangerous, even if he has some of his father and grandfather’s heirlooms on him in case he were to get into major trouble and need something to bargain with. Still, he’d rather not risk anything by drawing attention to himself. That is the last thing he needs right now, not unless he wants to be headed toward Lys soon.
Aerion stiffens when a new scent appears in the late night. It’s a good scent, the scent of a strong alpha. It’s nothing like the scents of the people inside the inn or the stench of the horses currently in the stable. No, this one carries no malice; it’s innocent in a way Aerion is not.
Interesting.
Aerion rarely enjoys anyone’s scent, so this is certainly a first for him, not that he cares. Still, he cannot help the way his blood begins to simmer inside him and how his instincts come alive as it grows stronger.
“I see you there, you know,” the alpha calls out to Aerion. “Are you the stable boy?”
Aerion’s eye twitches at the mere thought of him being a stable boy. This man, honestly, what a brute to assume such a thing.
He wants nothing more than to bite the alpha’s head off, but instead, he just settles for biting his lip to keep his anger at bay. He cannot draw attention to himself.
“No,” Aerion snaps at the brute, readjusting the hood of his cloak to make sure it stays on and conceals his hair. “Leave.”
He cannot let anyone see it, lest he wants to be returned to his father.
“Nothing to be ashamed of if you are,” the alpha tries to placate him. “It’s a decent job to have.”
Then, to Aerion’s horror and annoyance, the alpha tosses him a coin, one that proceeds to land by Aerion’s feet.
“Here,” the brute says. “I’m going into the tavern to get some dinner, and after you put my horses away, you should too,” he advises. “You’re clearly starving, and going hungry is no good, especially for an omega such as yourself.”
Aerion glares at the coin, wishing he could melt it with fire. The brute isn’t wrong. Aerion is hungry. It’s been almost two days since he’s eaten, and when he fled from his guards, he wasn’t able to grab much coin, just a few things. He’s miserable, and the prospect of having something to eat sounds incredible right now.
The alpha leaves, and Aerion debates on grabbing the dreaded coin for a moment longer until the smell of the food inside the tavern becomes too much.
Aerion tells himself it’s nothing more than the hunger that has him stabling the brute’s horses. That’s it, nothing more. It is only the hunger that has Aerion picking up the coin and putting it into his pocket.
He walks over to some water and cleans himself off once he’s finished, trying to rid himself of the smell of horses. Really, he cannot believe common people live like this. It seems so barbaric. At least the smell is doing him the favor of keeping him concealed.
It’s then that the brute returns, much to Aerion’s surprise.
The man seems flustered, and he keeps shifting on his feet as he looks at the omega. His scent is soothing, though, as if it’s trying to keep Aerion calm.
Aerion almost laughs when he realizes the brute’s scent is like that because it is trying to calm the omega down. Really, what a fool this alpha is, thinking Aerion is some omega in distress.
Stupid.
“Come on, I’ve already ordered you something to eat,” the brute says, motioning for Aerion to follow after him. “Let’s go eat.”
Aerion scoffs, not moving from where he stands. “Why in the world would you do something like that?”
Truly, is this alpha stupid? Why is he wasting all this coin on Aerion? If he perhaps thinks Aerion is about to spread his legs for the brute, he couldn’t be more wrong. Sure, the man is attractive, but still.
The brute frowns, almost in pity, as he looks at Aerion. “Because it’s clear as day that you’re hungry and you’ve got nowhere to go,” he points out, making Aerion frown harder. “There is no shame in any of it; we’ve all been there before.”
Aerion says nothing for a moment because he knows the alpha is right. He does have nowhere to go tonight, not while the guards are still looking for him.
“I can’t go inside,” he finally answers, because well, it’s the truth even if he hates it.
He cannot risk anyone seeing his hair. He does, however, want the food.
The brute just looks confused now before nodding once he finally manages to piece it together. “Alright, just give me a moment then.”
Aerion moves before he can stop himself and grabs at the brute’s back. He curls his fingers into the fabric of the alpha’s cloak, preening at how strong his scent is this close.
This close, Aerion really takes notice of how big the alpha is compared to him.
“Why are you helping me?” Aerion demands, suspecting malicious intent on the alpha’s part. His scent turns bitter with worry, and the brute takes notice of it right away. “You don’t even know me, and yet here you are, spending your coin on me and offering me aid.”
It doesn’t make sense.
The alpha stiffens and stops. He turns around to face Aerion, looking down so their eyes meet. He’s so tall like this, towering over the omega. “I’m helping you ‘cause I’m a knight and knights are meant to help people,” he answers as if things are truly that simple. His scent stays calm, letting Aerion know he isn’t lying. “I don’t have to know you to help you.”
Aerion blinks up at the alpha in surprise. Surely, this brute is no knight, given his garments. Then again, it’s possible knighthood has fallen on sad times. Aerion wouldn’t know; he’s never really concerned himself with such issues. He’s a knight himself, yes, but that’s as far as his knowledge of it goes.
“So, just wait here for me, I’ll be right back,” the brute swears. “You don’t have to go inside the tavern if you do not wish to.”
Aerion watches the man go as he tries to make sense of the mess inside his head. He has no idea what just happened and how in the world he even ended up crossing paths with this alpha.
True to his word, the alpha comes back a few moments later and gestures for Aerion to follow him somewhere away from the stable. He’s carrying with him some food, fresh and hot, making Aerion’s mouth water from just the smell alone.
Aerion is wary about leaving the stable, but the alpha’s scent should be enough to keep his own hidden. Besides, he’s much too hungry to really care at this point. This brute seems trustworthy and well, even if Aerion’s instincts are wrong, the omega has a dagger hidden inside his clothing to keep himself protected.
He makes sure the hood of his cloak is secure as he follows after the alpha, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one lurks nearby.
“Here,” the alpha says once they’ve sat down against some trees.
He hands Aerion a bowl of stew with meat. It’s not the most refined-looking dish, but in this moment, Aerion doesn’t care, far too hungry. He scarfs it down and nearly moans when the first bite of food hits his tongue.
It’s good, warm, and filling, everything Aerion needs it to be. He’s surely never tasted anything better.
“Slow down or you might choke,” the alpha warns, watching Aerion eat with a stern gaze.
“I’m fine,” Aerion hisses once he’s done, nearly choking.
“Aye, are you now?” the brute teases. “You must’ve been starving.”
Aerion grimaces, realizing that sitting on the bare ground is going to stain his clothing even more than it already was. Defying his father and uncle is really testing him. He has to stay strong, though. He won’t let them cage him, far from it, actually. He might not be so determined if his other siblings and cousins were being made to mate, but no, it’s just him currently.
What a joke. He’s sure his uncle is behind this.
“Where’re you from?” the brute asks, taking Aerion’s empty bowl and setting it on the ground near them. “What’s your name?”
“I’ve no name,” Aerion answers a little harshly, adjusting the hood of his cloak. “I’m from nowhere.”
Well, nowhere the alpha needs to know, at least.
The brute laughs, like Aerion just said something amusing. Really, how foolish of the man. Aerion is being serious here. Usually, Aerion has managed to anger people at this point in conversation, but the alpha seems immune, finding Aerion almost entertaining.
“My name is Dunk,” Dunk introduces himself. “I’m from Flea Bottom.”
“What kind of name is Dunk?” Aerion huffs, frowning. “You said you were a knight and yet that is your name?”
Dunk shrugs, not the least bit deterred. “It’s the only name I’ve ever known,” he admits. “I don’t think it’s a bad one.”
“Duncan suits you better,” Aerion advises, thinking like a knight for once. “If you truly are a knight, a name such as that would help people take you seriously.”
Well, the alpha’s size should already do most of that, but having a good name never hurt either.
“Duncan?” Dunk contemplates, face scrunching as he thinks it over. “It’s not a bad name. I think I’ll keep it,” he admits. “What about you?”
“What about me?” Aerion frowns.
Dunk’s eyes narrow as he stares at Aerion, and the omega swears he sees an amused smile pull at the brute’s lips. “If you don’t have a name, surely, we could give you one. Everyone deserves a name.”
Aerion huffs but doesn’t protest against it. Seven knows why he’s even entertaining this brute. “Give me one then.”
Better that this alpha give him a fake name than Aerion have to give his real name. It’ll help Aerion sell the lie that he’s someone else for the timebeing.
“I used to serve Ser Arlan of Pennytree. He was a good man,” Dunk reveals, speaking as if Aerion knows who the alpha is talking about. “Whenever he met a person he couldn’t name, he’d just name them himself.”
Aerion’s eyebrows furrow. He’s not quite following here.
To his surprise, Dunk leans closer to get a better look at the omega’s face. It’s a little too close. Rarely does the omega’s guards let anyone get this close to Aerion, but well, they’re not here right now.
“Let me take a good look at you,” Dunk insists, leaning closer until there is only a touch of space left between them. “So, I can give you a good name even if it's just temporary. Everyone deserves a name, after all.”
Aerion lets Dunk look at him, and perhaps he focuses his gaze heavily on the alpha, just to make him squirm. It is mean, but then again, Aerion has always been mean, and that doesn’t appear to be changing soon.
He wouldn’t normally let someone this close, especially an alpha at that, but this feels different; it feels safe. Besides, just the mere thought of what his father and uncle would say to Aerion doing something like this simply urges the omega on.
“You remind me of something Ser Alan often talked about when I was young,” Dunk confesses, eyes sweeping over Aerion’s face as he carefully looks it over. “When he was a young pup, his grandfather took him to King’s Landing to see the last dragon,” he reveals, and with those words, he suddenly has Aerion’s full attention. “Your face and eyes…it reminds me of his stories, of what the creature must’ve looked like.”
Since the day Aerion learned of dragons and how the Targaryens were once dragonlords, he has been convinced that he himself is a dragon in human form. He feels it in every part of his being, and rarely is he wrong about anything. His parents thought him silly for thinking such a thing; his sisters even more so, and his brothers taunted him.
Aerion is right, though; he is a dragon.
This alpha sees it all the same, and he’s never met Aerion before, yet he sees it. This surely cannot be a simple coincidence. It must be a sign, yes.
“We’ll call you little dragon, aye?” Dunk proposes.
“You say that as if we’re planning on traveling together,” Aerion retorts as his face flushes for several reasons, and he looks away.
Suddenly, Aerion gets an idea.
“Wait.” Aerion turns back toward the alpha. “You’re a knight, so you must be headed to the tourney at Ashford.”
Dunk nods. “How’d you know?”
“Take me with you,” Aerion demands, not even asking.
He’s never asked for anything in his life, considering that he’s a Targaryen prince, and he’s not about to start now.
“Take you with me?” Dunk repeats, looking utterly confused now. “You wouldn’t even come inside the tavern to eat, and now, you’re asking me to take you along to the tourney?”
Aerion nods. “It’s what I said,” he states. “I want to go to the tourney.”
“Why do you need me for that?” Dunk asks, eyebrows furrowing together. “I don’t understand.”
“Don’t be dense,” Aerion mumbles, trying to make this alpha agree to taking him along. This is the perfect passage for Aerion to get to Ashford without being found out. Dunk’s scent is just heavy enough to keep him hidden, and no one would dare question an alpha of his size. “I can’t go alone.”
He really needs to sell this lie, so he takes a deep breath and wills his scent to turn sour with fear. It is so unbecoming of him. A dragon fears nothing, after all.
Just that alone seems to answer Dunk’s questions. Dunk might be dense, but even he knows that Aerion, traveling alone as an omega and hiding at a stable, cannot simply mean anything good.
Besides, Aerion is not stupid. He knows the scent of an interested alpha, and Dunk’s scent is subtly calling out to his. He’s interested in Aerion, and well, maybe the omega isn’t completely disgusted by the sight of the brute. Traveling together could benefit them both.
So, in the end, Aerion gets his way just as he always does. Dunk agrees to take the omega with him, as long as Aerion agrees to do as he says to make sure they’re both kept safe.
“Why do you cover your hair?” Dunk asks later when they’re getting ready to depart.
It’s late, and Dunk had assured Aerion that they could wait until morning, but no, the omega doesn’t want to wait. It’s best to travel at night either way. There are fewer chances of the guards finding Aerion in the dark.
“It’s better this way,” Aerion explains, keeping his hood on. “I feel safer.”
It’s not a total lie.
They’re in the stable again, gathering the horses. For some odd reason, the brute has three of them. Seven knows why he needs so many when it’s only him, well, Aerion now too, but still.
“Well, you need not worry, I’ll do my best to keep you safe,” Dunk promises. “It’s a knight’s duty, after all.”
“Truly, you’re a knight?” Aerion asks, frowning when Dunk helps him onto the horse.
He wants to snap at the alpha and say he can do this himself, but, well, it wouldn’t make sense for a common omega to know how to mount so well. Besides, having Dunk’s massive hands settle on his waist isn’t too bad. They fit quite nicely on his waist, a little nice actually.
Aerion isn’t blind; he’s very aware that Dunk is a good, attractive alpha. Aside from being lowborn, Dunk is the ideal mate for a person. He’s strong, kind, sweet, attractive, and attentive.
“Aye,” Dunk answers once he’s gotten Aerion on the horse. “Hold on tight or else, you’ll fall, little dragon.”
Aerion huffs and grabs the horse’s reins. “I will not fall,” he insists, rolling his eyes. “You’ve nothing that indicates that you’re a knight,” he points out, looking toward Dunk’s armor and rags.
Dunk mounts his horse and grabs the reins for the third one so they can set off. “Well, I became a knight not too long ago when my mentor died,” he admits. “I still have to prove myself, that’s why I’m headed to Ashford, so I can compete in the tourney. I’m planning to get better armor while I’m there.”
Aerion simply listens as they ride along. He has nothing to repay Dunk’s generosity with, so perhaps he can just offer some advice on being a knight. It’s clear Dunk needs all the help he can get before he competes in Ashford.
“My mentor taught me well, I know I can win,” Dunk confesses, although his scent turns the slightest bit sour with doubt. “I believe in myself.”
Aerion, for some silly reason, feels uneasy because of it. His instincts don’t seem to like seeing Duke upset. Seven knows why.
“Well, from what I’ve seen, you’ll be the biggest knight there,” Aerion offers some reassurance in his own way. “You’ll be competing against the children of lords, some not the best equipped for the sport.”
His betrothed being one of them. Aerion hopes Dunk knocks the beta off and smashes him into the mud. Only then could Aerion truly be free.
Dunk turns to look at Aerion, and he’s smiling, soft and happy. It makes Aerion’s chest tighten in a way it’s never done before.
They keep riding for a while until Dunk finds a decent spot for them to make camp. It’s a bit secluded, and Dunk assures the omega they’ll be safe here. It’s evident that Dunk has a habit of camping out rather than sleeping at an inn or anywhere with a roof.
Aerion wishes he had a bed. He’s been missing his nest for some days now, but he doesn’t have the luxury, considering that he’s on the run. He’ll just have a nest when he settles down somewhere.
Still, this is better than nothing, and now, he has Dunk to keep watch. The past two nights, Aerion has hardly gotten any sleep, too worried about the guards sneaking up on him and grabbing him while he’s vulnerable.
Dunk might be dull, but he’s kind, far too kind for someone like Aerion. It just so happens that somehow, their paths have crossed, all the better for Aerion. He’s always been greedy.
The alpha insists that Aerion get some sleep after setting up their little camp and even gets the omega take most of the bedding.
For a moment, Aerion doubts he’ll be able to sleep on the ground, surrounded by Dunk’s garments, but as soon as he’s laid down, surrounded by Dunk’s scent, his eyes close and sleep washes over him.
He’s not even sure how long he sleeps, but it’s the best sleep he’s ever gotten in his life, that much is true. He truly feels settled, and his scent indicates it. His hands curl into the bedding and grip Dunk’s garments, acting as if someone will come and rip them from him.
“Little dragon, get up.”
“The food’ll get cold the longer you sleep, you know.”
Aerion awakens and hisses at the bright sun and shields his eyes from it. He sits up and rubs at his eyes, finding Dunk sitting across from him, cooking over a small fire.
It smells good, really good.
“I thought you were never going to get up,” Dunk comments, laughing. “You were purring in your sleep last night. You must’ve been exhausted.”
“Well, I’m awake now,” Aerion mumbles, rolling out his shoulders and neck.
He’s so stiff. He probably didn’t shift once last night, considering how heavily he was sleeping. “Wait, what did you just say?”
He was not purring. He does not purr outside of heat. That is below him. He is not soft, no, he’s the furthest thing from it. This brute is lying through his teeth, Aerion is sure of it. He’s a dragon with hard scales all over, not a soft thing that purrs. Ridiculous.
“You were purring,” Dunk restates, not the least bit affected by Aerion’s anger.
“I thought knights did not lie, Ser Duncan,” Aerion hisses, ignoring the blush that spreads across his face.
It’s only then that Aerion realizes the wind is blowing through his hair. His hood came off. His hood came off, and Dunk hasn’t said anything about it.
Aerion freezes where he sits, and his scent goes wild with anxiety. His anger is soon replaced by something else, something worse.
“Settle down, you’re alright,” Dunk casually mumbles as he cooks. “I’m not planning on telling anyone what you’re hiding,” he promises. “The food is almost ready,” he changes the subject.
Aerion doesn’t believe him, not for a second. He reaches for his dagger and grips it tight. “Why should I trust you?”
This is bad, really bad.
“Well, your hood came off before the sun rose, and if I had wanted to tell someone I’d found a Targaryen bastard, I would have before you’d awakon,” Dunk confesses, cutting a piece of meat and offering it to Aerion. He goes as far as blowing on it so it isn’t too hot. Really, he’s quite a considerate alpha, even if he is brutish. “Here, it’s good, try some.”
Aerion just blinks as Dunk’s words sink in. The alpha thinks Aerion is a bastard, a Targaryen one at that. He’s assuming that Aerion is just hiding it, and that’s why he’s been keeping himself away from others. Going along with what Dunk believes is not a horrible idea; this could help keep Aerion hidden.
This could be good for Aerion.
“I’ve no issue with bastards,” Dunk mumbles, holding out the meat until Aerion takes it. “When Ser Arlan found me, I was nothing but an orphan, so who would I be to judge you?” He shakes his head. “You can trust me.”
Aerion is unused to eating with his hands. It’s so barbaric, but here, there is no other option. Besides, it’s nice having food even if he does have to eat it with his hands.
“If you say anything to anyone, I will surely gut you,” Aerion threatens after he’s eaten. “Don’t doubt me.”
Dunk nods in agreement. “Aye, I’ll hold you to that,” he says. “For now, you don’t have to worry about hiding your hair when you’re around me.”
“Fine,” Aerion mumbles.
It’s after they’re done eating that they decide to keep going. It won’t be too far until they get to Ashford, and Aerion cannot help but begin to grow anxious.
His plan seemed good before coming here, but now, the closer they get, he cannot help but get nervous. There will be many lords in attendance, and there is a small chance that one of them might recognize his scent. They might not, and he might be fine, but the mere possibility of him has him on edge.
If someone were to discover him, they’d surely run off to tell Aerion’s uncle, eager to gain his favor. It’ll be a mess, the omega is sure of it.
Dunk must notice Aerion’s hesitation because he stops and looks over his shoulder at the omega. “Everything alright?”
Aerion swallows and contemplates what to say. He could very well lie to Dunk, but the alpha is too smart for his own good, especially when it comes to his instincts. He’s able to read Aerion far too well.
“Fine,” Aerion says, not lying completely but not telling the truth either. “I just didn’t expect the tourney to be so…crowded.”
Dunk hums in agreement. “They usually are, but we’ll be fine,” he reassures the omega. “I don’t serve a house, I’m just a hedge knight, so I’ll be camping near the tourney. You’re welcome to join me, of course, unless you’re headed elsewhere; that’s fine too.”
Truthfully, Aerion doesn’t have much of a plan now that they’ve made it to the tourney. He should leave, should keep going, but it would be foolish to leave Dunk behind for many reasons, the top being that he’s protective of Aerion despite just having met him.
Besides, it’s a beneficial relationship they have here because Aerion can help the brute when it comes to being a knight, and in return, Dunk can help Aerion stay hidden.
“I’m staying with you,” Aerion decides.
Dunk seems pleased with that. His scent alone makes it known to Aerion even if the alpha doesn’t voice it.
Aerion scoffs at how ridiculous Dunk is being, ignoring his own scent growing sweet in return.
It’s after they’ve settled camp that Dunk decides to go see the master of the games so he can get signed up. He still has much to do before he’s ready to compete. For Seven’s sake, the alpha doesn’t even have a squire. He needs one if he’s to compete.
There is someone who could squire for the alpha…no, Aerion is being ridiculous, thinking such a thing. He’s officially lost it.
What a mess, good thing Aerion is here to guide the brute, or who knows what would happen to him.
“Wait,” Aerion panics, feeling his heart begin to hammer in his chest at the notion of Dunk leaving.
Really, he should be ashamed of himself for how attached he’s grown to Dunk in the last day. It’s not as if they’re mates, far from it actually.
“What is it?” Dunk asks, pheromones growing thick in the air as they wrap around Aerion and seep into his scent to try and comfort him.
“Make sure you return,” Aerion demands, trying to hide the panic bubbling inside him.
Dunk nods. “Of course, I’ll return, little dragon, just wait for me.”
So, Aerion waits.
He keeps himself hidden and tries to pass the time by planning what he’ll do after the tourney. It helps keep his anxiety about Dunk being away at bay. Truthfully, he’s not even sure why he’s so damn anxious about that brute leaving. It’s not as if they’re mates or anything of the sort.
Thankfully, no one comes this way.
Aerion manages to find a place in a large tree, one that grants him a spectacular view of the tourney grounds. He almost imagines this is what it must look like to ride dragonback.
Something bitter stirs inside him at the thought.
Dunk returns before nightfall, and Aerion physically feels himself relax at the sight of the brute. Of course, he knew Dunk would return, but it’s still reassuring, seeing the brute in the flesh.
“I’m back,” Dunk announces like Aerion doesn’t have eyes. He’s carrying with him a few things to eat. “I brought food, figured you were starving.”
“You took too long,” Aerion states, digging his fingers into his arms to keep himself from moving from where he stands under the shade of the large tree.
His body is being stupid, wanting to move closer to the brute for no apparent reason. Aerion will do no such thing. He’s a proper omega, a Targarygen prince. He won’t be throwing himself at this lowborn alpha, no matter how badly his instincts seem to want to.
Stupid, Aerion is being stupid.