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two-white-butterflies · 1 year ago

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parallel lines | d. targaryen | part two

Description: An ordinary middle school teacher moves to a desolate town with her fiancee. After suffering episodes of vivid nightmares, she realizes that his uncle looks exactly like the man in her dreams.

Pairings: daemon targaryen/reader, aemond targaryen/reader

Trope: Reincarnation

series masterlist |

"Trust I seek and I find in you Every day for us something new Open mind for a different view" - Nothing Else Matters, Metallica

(CANADIAN HEIGHTS, DRAGONVIEW. JANUARY 3, 2023)

"You couldn't have told me about Rhaenyra?" the sentence slips off your tongue immediately after the door slams shut. He takes a deep inhale, further expanding your doubts as he places his coat on the rack. "I don't like her - never did." he grumbled while walking towards the living room - you trail after him.

"I didn't think that you'd meet each other." he reasoned while opening a bottle of beer. "- it's the first time in twenty years that I've seen her work. She got the majority of Dad's trust." he avoided your gaze.

You continued staring at him - waiting until he tells the truth. "You could've told me that she was your sister." you pointed out. A scoff exits his mouth. "Half-sister." he corrected while taking his mug off the counter and storming straight to his office.

(STARLIGHT STEAKHOUSE, DRAGONVIEW. JANUARY 4, 2023)

The dinner came sooner than expected. Soon, you found yourself in the middle of a crowded steakhouse with all the school's faculty. It was pleasant to be in this atmosphere - they all had a familiar aura. One that you'd find in the Mayor's Office or a Family Reunion. They were all cool - nonchalant almost.

"The political climate in Dragonview is relatively calm. I thought all hell would break loose after Viserys died - but Corlys seems to be running this city well." Harwin, Rhaenyra's husband, proclaimed. You were about to ask a question, but a man walks in.

He had an impeccable posture, shoulder's straight - with the same command as a military officer. He was wearing black trousers and a polo shirt that was tucked in neatly. You could hardly make out the Lacoste logo on his chest - if it weren't for the smell of Le Labo Santal 33 that blinded you.

Your eyes trailed from his clothes to his face. Those fucking purple eyes - those eyes that you've been searching for. They looked like a field of Lavender, and all you wanted to do was drown in them. "Is she the new teacher in lucky St. Goretti?" he opened his mouth, his voice was velvety and deep. It made your head spin.

"Yes, the middle faculty's attractive levels are rising." Rhaenyra pats your back and you share a small chuckle. "I'm Daemon, Daemon Targaryen." he says his full name - like it was something that you needed to remember. He looked important, who was he?

"(Your Name)" you responded while shaking his hand. Electric sparks course through your body. Enchanted by a guy that you only met? Unethical. The man sits beside you - tracing his muscles through his tight polo-shirt. He was familiar. You knew him somewhere.

You knew everything about his body language - the way he leaned back when something was hilarious - the way that he took up space because he knew that he was entitled to it. His face looked like coming home. He looked like a thousand sleepless nights cuddled near the fire. But you shouldn't be feeling this way.

It was wrong that time stood still for a man other than Aemond.

"He's my uncle, actually. He owns the land where the school is standing in." Rhaenyra confirmed and your eyebrows merged into each other. "He's your uncle? Is he also Aemond's uncle?" you inquired, seeing an unsettling resemblance between him and your boyfriend. "He's our father's brother." Rhaenyra answered with a smile. "It's a small town, everyone's related." Harwin says.

You felt outcasted one more. Aemond knew everything about you, but you hardly knew anything about his past. When you asked him about it, he'd ignore you and move to 'better' topics. It felt like you were purposefully in the dark about him - like he was hiding something important.

"It's nice to finally meet you. My first meeting with Rhaenyra was quite rocky." you chuckled nervously, everyone in the table was searching for something behind your eyes. Waiting for you to remember? "So she's told," Daemon flashed you a rare smile.

"Of course, he's arrived fashionably late as usual." Rhaenys teased her cousin while cutting through her steak. "Do not get too cocky with me Rhaenys, just because you're the mayor's wife now." Daemon jested and everyone laughed at his joke. "You can't blame him, ever since his ex-wife died and left him that massive public library - he's spent all of his time there." Rhaenyra rolls her eyes, taking a sip of a diet coke.

"It's free and I will use it." he shrugged, turning his knees in your direction. You knew what it meant - he liked you. Was it possible that you weren't the only one with this feeling? "I must admit, I'm a little curious. Where did you meet my brother? What was his job again?" she placed a finger on her lips, attempting to remember her brother's job. Since her father's death, they've all went their opposite ways.

"He streams," you answer and the entire table falls into silence. They weren't luddites, but they were oblivious when it came to modern technology. "It's a work from home type of thing." you expanded and they all nodded. "How did you meet him?" Rhaenyra repeated her question and your face relaxes.

(BERNINA EXPRESS, SWITZERLAND TO ITALY. AUGUST 23, 2018)

Europe was beautiful, really cold, but beautiful.

It was your eighteenth birthday, also the death anniversary of your mother. It's been a decade since she died - life has never been better. "Coffee or hot chocolate?" the attendant inquires and you look at her, "Nothing, thank you." you popped those headphones back on.

So you're leaving, in the morning. On the early train.

It's been ten years since you've last listened to this song - it's humble melody still brought you comfort. You looked towards the vast horizon, soaking in the beautiful scenery of Switzerland. Never in a million years did you expect stepping foot in this country.

Well, I could say everything alright. And I could pretend and say goodbye.

"Miss, you're in my seat." a man leans down, standing beside you.

Your gaze hikes up to his face - he was an ethereal wisp of a man, he had a buzzcut and his hood was partially covering his face. Although, the hood wasn't enough to cover his missing eye. A purple eye?

"What? My seat is 13B." you stared at the ticket in your hands. You reached towards your phone, exiting Spotify and deciding to give him your full attention. "Yes, and you're in 13C." he clenched his jaw. Your cheeks turned crimson red.

"I'm sorry. Here, I'll move." you apologized, moving your body until you were seated beside the window. "It's alright, I'd sit there but I don't like window seats." he settled his backpack on his lap. A frown is etched upon your face, "How? It's the best seat." you voiced out.

An amused chuckle escaped his mouth.

"For you, maybe."

(STARLIGHT STEAKHOUSE, DRAGONVIEW. JANUARY 4, 2023)

"How did you meet him?"

"Europe, it's a romantic place." you smiled fondly at the memory. You always believed that you were lucky to meet him - the perfect strangers. It came straight out of a Disney movie. "Oh, where? Harwin and I met there too!" Rhaenyra cheered, quickly leaning on her husband's shoulder. "The Bernina Express."

Harwin's eyes narrowed - seemingly remembering an experience of his own. "Oh, remember that family trip when we went to in Italy? We took the Bernina Express too, was that where you met?" Harwin asked and Rhaenyra grumbled. "What date was that again?" she inquired and Daemon answered this time; with a shaky breath.

"August 23," he gulped.

It was the day where he remembered. The day that he began looking for you. "Exactly, it was my birthday." you smiled and Rhaenyra couldn't help but laugh. "We could've known each other sooner. Although, me and the others took the first class seats. Aemond insisted on getting the normal ones." she reminisced.

Daemon's teeth burrowed into his lower lip.

Did Aemond plan for this?

"Invisible string theory?" Mysaria inquired, but no one understood her reference. "We're glad to know you now," Daemon nodded - seemingly convincing himself. "Likewise," you smiled.

"(Your Name) can I get your Instagram? I took a really cool photo and I want to post it." Rhaenyra asked while pulling out her phone.

"Yeah sure!"

RhaeTargaryen: Dinner with the #SJTWSID Faculty! ❤️ Anyone know the full name of our beloved school?

liked by 3,854 others

>comments

cordenciagomes: st. Joseph the worker's school in dragonstone 🤣 a mouthful isn't it? - RhaeTargaryen: Quite 😅

HarwinStrong: Beautiful picture!

(RED KEEP MANSIONS, DRAGONVIEW. JANUARY 4, 2023)

"I hope that you don't take the entire thing to heart." Rhaenyra stands outside of her uncle's mansion, half her foot was inside the door - half was still splayed on the concrete. "Everything happens for a reason," he responded with a thin lipped smile.

Rhaenyra becoming his close confidant was a surprise. In his other life, he was older by decades - in this life, there were only four years between them. They could relate to each other now - know each other in ways deeper than shared blood.

She breathes a sigh of relief.

"I'm glad that's all sorted. Just don't think much about it, I'm sure that Aemond doesn't remember. We haven't seen him since that trip 5-years ago, where he met her." Rhaenyra whispered. "Do you think that he remembered there too?" he couldn't help but inquire.

Rhaenyra ponders for a moment, before seeing her son descend from the Grand Staircase. "Don't think about it, uncle." she moved past him. "Jace, it's time to go home." she smiled.

Daemon did think about it.

It was 12:00am. Four hours past his bedtime.

All he could think about was you. The thought of you being engaged to his nephew brought shivers down his spine.

You were his wife for gods sake! The woman that healed his wounds, showed him what true love meant. Aemond did not deserve you.

He closes his eyes, trying to remove the mental image in his head. His nephew's arms around your waist, pressing kisses on your neck. Aemond standing beside you, usurping Daemon's rightful place.

There was an indescribable feeling in his heart. Hopelessness.

He'd exchange all the money in his bank account just to feel you in his arms again, seeking comfort in him like you used to do before. He misses the way that you'd talk to him about healing, and sometimes he'd tell you stories about his past in the battlefield.

Most of all, he misses the way that you'd plan about the future. Naming all the sons and daughters that you wanted to have.

Sons and daughters that he promises to have with you.

Please remember. Was the last thought that went through his head until he fell asleep.

(TIRANO, ITALY. AUGUST, 23 2018.)

Daemon exited the building carefully, excited to finally be back in this beautiful place. The country where Renaissance began. He sees a woman - walking past him and he can't help but feel drawn towards her. She was beautiful, slender and with alluring eyes.

The world stood still for a moment, before he finally got the guts to open his mouth. "Miss, can you take a picture of me?" he requested, pulling out his vintage camera that he bought especially for this trip. "I really have to meet someone," she tried to reason, clearly panicked and staring at the floor.

"Please, just one picture." he pleaded - feeling that familiar pain in his head. Hopefully the dreams wouldn't return tonight. "O-okay," she stuttered, reaching for his camera. He adjusted his suit, leaning on one of the airplane statues that they had in the courtyard. She clicks, taking a picture of him - before running off.

All without staring at his face.

"Thank you," he whispered - holding his camera and feeling electric sparks course through his body. She was the last thing he remembered before falling out of consciousness.

DaemonTargaryen.phd: Beautiful day here in Tirano. 🇮🇹

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Posted August 24, 2018.

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an0ther-us3r · 3 months ago

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I am usually not very into fics with modern settings but this one has me hooked, can’t wait to see how it goes!!!

August

Part 1: Possibilities and Peace Offerings

Your family has been invited to spend August at Dragonstone, where things get a little tense after an unfortunate first encounter with Aemond Targaryen, one he's determined to put right.

Aemond Targaryen x Reader // Modern AU

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Warnings: 18+, nothing too bad here, eventual smut, slight enemies to lovers, mutual pining

Words: 7k

A/n: Summer romance is here!! hope you likeeee. This is going to be three parts in total. Will eventually post to AO3.

The impending summer exists beyond time, beyond the rest of the world. Exams are over and you’ve already received a mark for your dissertation. The dorm room you called home for three years is packed up and returned to its prison-like appearance, just as it was when you were an eager and excitable fresher. Suddenly the world is an endless sea of possibilities and you’re standing on the water’s edge with nothing to lose.

You spend a few weeks with your friends, drinking in pub gardens and driving down to the rammed beaches along the coast near King’s Landing, but this summer of possibility takes an unexpected turn when your father receives an invitation to spend the month of August at Dragonstone, as a guest of Viserys Targaryen. Viserys and your father have been business partners for just under a decade, but to be welcomed into his inner circle, to the ancestral home of the Targaryen family, is another honour altogether.

Your parents are beside themselves with excitement. You’re a little more sceptical but you won’t let them know it. So once your uni friends have gone back to their hometowns, you pack an array of swimsuits and summer dresses into a suitcase, and bundle into the backseat of your father’s car.

The aircon is on full blast. You sip on the last of your water as an 80s playlist blares through your headphones to block out the conversation of investments, clients, lawsuits and legal fees from the front seats.

Dragonstone is three things; an island, a town, and a castle. You drive out of the city, red and grey buildings blurring into greenery and vast spaces of blue, the sky and the sea. A ferry takes you from the mainland to the island’s port. The song you were listening to fades away as you slip your headphones off your ears. The town is utterly charming, from the rows of fishing boats in the harbour to the cobbled streets and obscure little buildings, bookshops, bakeries and butchers. The sun shines brightly, heat pulses through the window even with the blast of cool air.

A few more miles and you reach a gatehouse, ancient stone walls smothered with ivy, guarded by two stone creatures with their jaws wide open— dragons with spikes and sharp teeth. The driveway is lined with thick trees and foliage. Suddenly you turn a corner and there it is, towers and turrets reaching up into the summer sky, hundreds of windows, more carvings of dragons looming proudly over where Blackwater Bay becomes the Narrow Sea.

The man who greets you by the doors is not a Targaryen. He has dark hair, dark eyes, a crisp white shirt and a radio on his belt. Your father seems to know him already. He greets him as “Cole,” and introduces him to you and your mother.

Cole offers his hand to you. “Criston,” he insists, “I’m the head of Mr Targaryen’s security.”

Two identical butlers take your bags from the car while Criston shows you into the entrance hall. He comments on the antiques and the 14th century timbers, leading you through to the room he calls “the waiting chamber”. It has high ceilings, wood panelled walls, an enormous fireplace and aged but comfortable looking leather sofas at the edges of the room. You note the portraits on the walls, the more recent photographs on the mantle, but before you can get a proper look, someone announces their own arrival into the room.

Viserys Targaryen has his arms open, dressed far more casually than you’ve seen him at various galas and events, he even has a pair of aviators keeping his silver hair out of his face. He greets your father with a smile and a firm handshake, his eyes sharp but somewhat hollow.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting,” he says, moving onto your mother and then to you. “We’re having drinks on the patio, enjoying the sun. Why don’t you join us?” He chuckles and you don’t really understand why. You’re not sure how any of this works.

Viserys leads you through the house, stopping by the great hall and the library, pointing out details like Criston did. His home is devoted to family and every furnishing carries some sentimental value. The curtains and the sofas in the library are Arryn blue for his first wife, the shelves are laden with books that belonged to his grandfather. There are items here which have belonged to the Targaryens for generations and their house’s sigil is carved into the walls and wooden beams.

At last you come to a hall with tall windows, glass chandeliers and marble floors. Viserys calls this “the west gallery”, a more modern addition to the castle, built in the 17th century. He opens a double glass door and you can already see the sprawling green gardens, the unnatural blue of a swimming pool somewhere in the distance. Before all that is the raised patio, an array of chairs and the people sitting in them.

You step into the heat of the garden, into cigarette smoke and the sounds of laughter, loud and seemingly rehearsed. Your father knows most of these people, other associates of Targ Corp, Corlys Velaryon and his wife Rhaenys Tagraryen, Jason Lannister and his wife Joanna, Lyonel Strong and his son Larys. Even Otto Hightower is lounging back in his chair, sunglasses over his eyes, a pale pink cocktail in a crystal glass.

Your parents smile graciously, your mother clutching her handbag over her shoulder, your father wiping the sweat from his brow, trying to air out the damp patches in his shirt. They’ll want to make a good impression. Each person staying at Dragonstone this summer is another opportunity for your father.

You glance down at your denim shorts and your sandals— an outfit for comfort, not for networking.

Viserys directs the three of you to a cushioned wooden bench and you squeeze in beside your mother. Another butler appears and offers you all a drink. Your parents both ask for a gin and tonic. You’re thinking that you’d like to dunk yourself in the pool, so you ask for a large glass of water.

“With ice and lemon, miss?”

“Yeah, please, if you have it?”

Your mother nudges you with her elbow and whispers in your ear. “This is Dragonstone, if you want it they probably have it.”

“If I asked for the Prince of Pentos’ phone number, do you think they’d bring it out on a silver tray?” You return with a grin.

The minutes drag by. Lyonel Strong asks your father about his law practice. Corlys Velaryon and Jason Lannister enter a heated discussion about yachts. Otto Hightower mentions the name “Daemon” and the other voices go quiet. You take large gulps of your water, occasionally sharing silent looks with your mother.

The heat is sweltering. You feel your head pulsing, your skin becoming damp and you worry you may end up as a puddle on the patio if you don’t find a reason to escape soon.

The glass doors open and two women enter the garden, one with auburn hair, dressed in a floral dress and high heels. The other, younger, blonde hair cut into a fashionably short fringe, barefoot, dressed in denim shorts and baggy t-shirt, goes straight to Otto. She doesn’t look at anyone else. She stands behind Otto and leans down to wrap her arms around his neck. This must be Alicent Hightower and her daughter.

Alicent makes her rounds elegantly. She’s familiar with all the people present, except for the three of you, the outsiders, piled onto a single piece of garden furniture. Her eyes are wide and brown, her lips full and fallen slightly even when she smiles. She asks about the journey from King’s Landing, if you’ve had a chance to explore the town.

She asks you a lot of questions too, what you do, where you studied, what your plans are for the Autumn. And once she’s found out what she wants from you, she starts telling you everything about her children, unprompted.

“Helaena’s starting a PhD in a few weeks, staying in King’s Landing– King’s college, of course, not KLU, seven heavens. We didn’t want her to be too far away from home,” she says, looking back at her daughter and her father. “Etymology. Well, she’s always had a thing for insects, I could never understand it, but it’s easier to let her follow her interests, she’s that sort of girl.

“Now Aegon is like that too, he likes a lot of things, would be nice if he could be interested in something that makes him money. Oh well, he’s into the arts, fancies himself a photographer, directed a few plays at university– Oldtown. He wrote a screenplay, you must remind me to show you, it’s really quite clever. It’s about injustice or something like that.

“Daeron is at Oldtown too, at Citadel Boys. He’s the only child I sent to board, I just felt he might be happy with a bit of space from all of us. He wants to go to Oldtown like his brothers. His father wants him to do economics, but he’s very good at history.

“Aemond did history, but then he trained in accountancy. He’s worked all over, Oldtown, Storm’s End, Harrenhal, but he’s looking to stay in King’s Landing now–”

“Mum, you’ll bore her to tears,” Helaena says and it’s only now you notice that she’s moved to stand in front of you.

Alicent frowns.

You stifle a smile and raise your brows hopefully.

“Do you know where you’re sleeping yet?” Helaena asks, looking at her mother.

“I’ve put her in the moat room,” Alicent says. She turns back to you, “I’m sorry, darling, you’re probably tired, aren’t you? Helaena can show you your room.”

You kiss your mother's cheek and agree to reconvene for dinner in the evening.

“Sorry about mum, she just jumps at the chance to talk about her kids,” Helaena says as you walk back through the west gallery.

“It’s sort of cute,” you say, staring up at the gold detailing on the ceiling. “Very informative.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” she says with a wicked smile.

When Helaena laughs she scrunches up her eyes and her nose. She sways her arms by her sides as she walks and trails her fingertips on the walls. Unlike Criston or Viserys, she doesn’t have little anecdotes about any of the vases or paintings on display. She’s a juxtaposition of her family’s ancestral home, airy and lighthearted, earthy and inexplicably real.

“Your parents are probably in the west wing,” she explains as you come to a winding stairwell. “That’s where everyone else will be too. The moat room is on the other side of the house.”

You nod along, stealing glances out the windows, at the gardens, and from higher up, you can see the sea.

“Don’t be too disheartened though,” Helaena says, “that means you’re with us.”

She shows you your room first. It sits at the very corner of the castle with windows to the north and the east. The moat in question isn’t a moat, it’s more of a well kept ditch. By the rest of the house you were half expecting the room to be medieval, but to your surprise it’s bright, carpeted, sans priceless antiques and heirlooms. A queen-sized bed waits for you piled with pillows.

“I’m down the hall, and the boys are in the next corridor,” Helaena explains. “If you smell something suspicious, it’s Aegon.”

She helps you unpack your suitcase, admiring your swimsuits and looking through the small collection of books you’ve brought to pass the time.

She shows you her room which is further down the corridor. It’s much larger than yours, far more personal. She has worn patterned rugs over the wooden floors, dark blue wallpaper and accents of gold everywhere, the mirror over her vanity, the handles on the drawers and the wardrobe. You’re most intrigued by the framed taxidermies on the walls, butterflies with the most beautiful wings you’ve ever seen, moths, beetles, even a scorpion.

You’re a little relieved when you see a cat curled up on her bed, with a thick white coat, brown ears.

“Dreamfyre,” Helaena says, scooping the cat up in her arms. “She’s named after the Valryian god of prophecy and wisdom.”

You hold your hand out for Dreamfyre to sniff. She considers you for a moment, and runs her head against your fingers. “So can she tell me my future?” you ask.

Helaena stares at you. “Don’t be ridiculous, she’s a cat. Why, hoping for something in particular?”

“I like to see where life takes me,” you say.

After exchanging phone numbers and scrolling through each other’s Spotify playlists, Helaena tells you that she thinks the two of you are going to be friends.

Dinner is surprisingly more pleasant, where you all eat around a table on the patio. Being outside is far more bearable once the sun starts to set and a breeze sweeps in from the sea. You’re served white fish, potato salad coated in herbs which Alicent says she grows herself, summer vegetables, grilled courgettes, red and yellow peppers, sweet and tangy tomatoes, washed down with white wine.

You sit beside Helaena, opposite two of her brothers, Aegon and Daeron. Daeron is far taller than his older brother but his face is clearly younger. His pale blond hair is slightly overgrown, his nose a little pink and his skin freckled from being in the sun. “Aemond managed to beat me at tennis today,” he says.

Aegon rolls his eyes, far more concerned with scratching the ears of a golden labrador perched on the floor beside him.

You look to Helaena for an explanation.

“Daeron’s looking to go pro. Aemond can’t stand that he’s not the best at something.”

There’s an empty space at the head of the table, between Aegon and Helaena. You’ve yet to see any other evidence that the elusive middle brother exists.

“There’s a tennis court here?” You ask.

“Towards the water garden, you should be able to see it from the moat room.” Helaena says. “You should have a look.”

Dessert is pistachio ice-cream, then everyone starts to disperse. Aegon grabs a bottle of wine and he and Daeron traipse over to a firepit at the edge of the patio, followed by the labrador. Your parents follow Viserys and the others into the house. Corlys and Rhaenys linger at the table, staring up at the sky and taking long drags from their cigarettes.

You trail Helaena to a neatly kept kitchen. Some of the staff pass through, into a far larger back room with metal surfaces, where the real cooking is done. Criston sits at the kitchen island on a stool, eating a pasta salad from a glass bowl. Helaena pats his head as she passes him. He doesn’t seem surprised by it, perhaps it’s a common occurrence.

“Feel free to grab anything you want, by the way. There’s all sorts of snacks and stuff, and if you want more of something give Criston a shout,” Helaena says, picking out bags of chocolate buttons and sour sweets from a cupboard.

“That’s kind,” you say, twisting your fingers over each other in front of you. “I’m quite tired, I think I might just have a shower and go to bed.”

“Darling, it’s summer, you can do whatever you want,” Helaena says. “See you at breakfast, yeah?” She pulls you into a quick hug and disappears out into the garden.

Not wanting to linger when Criston’s phone starts to ring, you decide to brave it and find your way back to your bedroom. Aegon and Daeron seem like fun, maybe too much fun for tonight, you just need to sleep off the fatigue from the sun.

This place is far too big for you to feel settled just yet. It amazes you how everyone can navigate the castle so easily, it’s like a maze. Eventually you find your way back to the entrance hall. You think you might know the way to the east wing from here, but when you see the sky beyond the windows, lilac and orange, dotted with grey clouds and the first few stars of the evening, you want to make the most of the dying light. Maybe you could head towards the water garden and find the tennis court.

Your sandals crunch against the gravel which stretches out into paths leading in three directions. The central one leads to the driveway and the gatehouse. To the left is the gardens past the edge of the moat, and to the right is an outlook and a downhill path which disappears from sight, which you assume leads down to the sea. You can hear the waves in the distance.

The sunlight is fading fast. You cross your arms over yourself, shivering and regretting the lack of a cardigan. You tell yourself you might warm up with a bit of a walk.

You take a few paces down the path towards the gardens– a dog’s bark has your heart leaping out of your chest. It’s deep and loud, coming from behind you. Your head darts around. An enormous dog has emerged from the downhill path and is bounding towards you, covering ground quickly.

You keep your feet planted on the ground, out of fear

The dog, a great dane, stops before you— it truly is huge, its head would come up to your torso if you were close enough, and you don’t really want to find out– barking viciously. Its teeth flash, flecks of saliva dripping from its mouth.

“Back off! Come, Vhagar!”

You look back along the path. A man in a black t-shirt and black shorts is walking quickly towards you and the dog. He grabs it by its collar and yanks it back, fastening it on a leash.

His eyes dart up— eye, you realise. The right side is a bright blue, the left is clouded, framed by a scar slicing down from his brow to his cheek.

“Who are you?” He asks like an accusation.

You hesitate, your heart still racing in panic.

You say your first name, then your family name, at that the man tuts and raises himself to full height, keeping the great dane on a short leash. “Right. What are you doing out here?”

“Just… looking around.”

“Just looking around someone else’s house?”

Gods now you’re really starting to panic. He’s glaring at you as if it’s your fault his dog just made a break for you.

He huffs irritably through his nose. “Look, Vhagar’s not always friendly and especially not around strangers. Be careful, yeah?”

Vhagar now seems content enough sitting by her owner’s side, wagging her tail and panting with her tongue out. Her grey coat is covered in sand, especially her paws and her nose.

“If your dog’s not always friendly why wasn’t she on a leash?”

His face hardens. Frowning suits his sharp features and the intensity of his eye. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this is my fucking house.”

That explains the blond hair, and you suppose now he has the same lanky look as Daeron and the same gauntness in his face as Aegon.

“Right, your dog could have just mauled me but thanks for the friendly reminder.” You turn towards the house and mutter loud enough for him to overhear, “prick.”

You can’t shake the frustration. Nothing takes the edge off, not the hot stream of water from the shower, the routine of your skincare or the feeling of sinking into an impossibly soft mattress. Dragonstone is perfect… and all you want to do is scream, just a little.

Breakfast is served in the morning room, next to the kitchen, according to the text you got from Helaena. You put a swimsuit on, a patterned one piece and pull on some shorts. Before you head downstairs you grab a pair of sunglasses, a bottle of suncream and a book, determined that your morning will be peaceful and idyllic.

People flitter into the morning room as they please. Helaena is still in her pyjamas, tucking into a bowl of yoghurt and fruit. Daeron comes in and starts eating toast off Alicent’s plate, having already run a casual 5k about the grounds.

The man from last night is hovering by a side table, placing sausages and bacon onto a small plate. He glances sideways at you as you enter.

You keep your teeth pressed together as you reach for a plate and go for the platter of pastries, reaching for an almond croissant.

His elbow must be a few inches from yours. “Morning,” he mutters.

You were half expecting him to act like you don’t exist. “Morning,” you mumble back.

“Have you two already met?” Helaena asks loudly from the table.

“Briefly,” he says.

“And you didn’t actually tell me your name,” you say, adding some strawberries to your plate for good measure.

“The boy has no manners,” Daeron says in a mocking voice, earning him an exasperated chide from his mother. Helaena giggles to herself.

He faces you fully. “Aemond,” he says.

“Good for you,” you say, and go to take a seat beside Helaena.

“Tea or coffee?” she asks you, reaching towards the two silver pots in the middle of the table.

“Coffee, please.”

Helaena makes a shocked expression. “Blasphemy. I’m a tea girl.”

As Helaena pours some coffee into a china cup, Aemond takes the free seat opposite you. Your heart races a little, infuriated at the sight of him, somewhat guilty that your time at Dragonstone has already soured and his entire family is there to see it.

You add just a dash of milk to your coffee. In the corner of your eye you see him watching you, fork hovering in front of his face. You muster the confidence to look up and he averts his eye.

After you’ve finished your breakfast you head out to the patio, down the stone steps and to the pool, settling on one of the lounge chairs. Helaena has gone back up to her room to change and bring you both down a towel.

You lather suncream on your limbs, face and neck, and open your book. This is a nice kind of heat, one that you’re more prepared for. You can almost feel it permeating your skin, breathing new life into your blood.

You get a few moments of bliss until a silhouette appears beside you.

You raise your eyes from the page, over the edges of your sunglasses, staring ahead at the surface of the pool. You can smell a man’s aftershave, and you can tell he’s too tall to be Aegon.

Ice clinks against glass. He leans down to place something on the small table beside you. “Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

You don’t want to turn your head, that might be misinterpreted as you actually caring.

But then Aemond’s voice takes on a lighter tone and he says, “Are you reading Crime and Punishment?”

You scrunch your brows in bewilderment as you look up at him.

His eye moves between your face and the book in your lap

“Yeah,” you say, shifting your legs and drawing your knees closer to your torso, “I’m finding it a bit boring to be honest.”

His lips are parted ever so slightly and you can see the tips of his teeth. “It’s one of my favourite books.”

“I think that might explain a lot,” you say.

The corner of his mouth flickers like he might smile. He holds it back.

“What’s this?” You ask, looking down at the glass of iced coffee he’s placed on the table.

“A peace offering,” Aemond says. “I really am sorry about yesterday evening. I just… panicked. Vhagar isn’t always good around people she doesn’t trust. She bit my nephew once actually.”

“Oh, not good.”

“It was years ago, and to be fair to her—” he doesn’t finish that sentence. He presses his lips together. “I just thought I should apologise to you.”

Even when apologising he sounds smug.

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” you say.

He hums, it’s cryptic and it throws you off a little. He looks at you like he has a secret, like he’s managed to spot something that you haven’t.

You feel aware of yourself and now you can’t breathe without doing it consciously. You feel beads of sweat forming at the back of your neck, the warmth of your own skin with your thighs pressed together, the pulse in your chest, the restless feeling in your stomach. You’re worried you might do something stupid, but how could you? You’re only sitting in a swimsuit and sunglasses, while Aemond is doing nothing to hide the fact that he’s looking at you– studying you with a hint of excitement in his eye.

And after about a minute of this he says, “enjoy your morning,” turning and strolling towards the patio.

You clench your jaw, determined that you won’t look back at him, but you listen to his footsteps as they move away.

With each line you read, you can only think of Aemond pouring over every word and making this book his bible. You imagine his hands holding the cover, his fingertip dragging over the page, his lips parted in concentration. It feels intrusive, it feels too involved. You couldn’t possibly put this book down now.

Aemond is an understated presence amongst his own family. He often lurks in the library or in a corner of the sitting room with a book. He wanders the gardens with his headphones on. He takes Vhagar down to the beach every evening and some nights you steal glances of them from a window at the front of the house. He gets these headaches, something to do with the scar over his eye, and when he does he likes to retreat to his room. When he is around for dinner he sits at the head of the table, opposite his father but miles away from him. He’s not a big talker but when he does have something to add to the conversation he commandeers it. Everyone stops to listen when he speaks.

You like watching him, the way he fiddles with anything within his reach, how he strokes his fingertips over his hands, the edge of his jaw. You look for his microexpressions, the twitches of his brow and the quirk of his lips when he finds something amusing, and how at the mentions of sensitive subjects or certain names, his eye widens.

He smirks when he sees you looking, you don’t mind that he knows that you are.

You don’t want to seek him out, but you don’t try to avoid him either. He’s always somewhere in your periphery, his hand brushing against yours at the dinner table, the smell of his Marlboros wafting from the patio when you’re sitting by the pool which makes you wonder if he’s watching you. In the evenings after dinner, you and the Targaryen siblings hang around the firepit late into the night. Helaena and Daeron talk about constellations and roast marshmallows, Aegon plucks on a guitar, and you and Aemond fall into a game of pretending like you’re not looking at each other.

Some nights you sit across from him, your view distorted by the heat and the flames. Other nights he dares to sit beside you, close enough that his leg will rest against yours. He keeps his voice soft until you’re leaning in closer to catch every word he says, this insufferable man who bings you a coffee every morning and asks you about the books you read.

One night Aemond is sat beside you. Helaena sings along to Aegon’s guitar, Daeron drums his fingers against his legs, gazing in wonder at his siblings because moments like this are a rarity for him.

“Do you forgive me yet?” Aemond asks, his arm draped along the back of the bench you sit on. Maybe he can read your mind because you’ve been silently begging for him to come closer… closer…

Your senses are hazy, the smoke of the fire, the scent of cigarettes and aftershave lingering on Aemond’s shirt, the glasses of wine you had with dinner, the clear, cold night air piercing the backs of your arms. He notices you shivering and slips his arm around your shoulders, slowly, so you have a chance to tell him to stop. His heat is white hot. Your chest feels hollow and weightless.

Everything about him is hypnotising, the curve of his mouth, his self-assuredness, the look in his eye that’s gentle and intense all at once.

Your body feels heavy; you should probably go to bed soon. “Do you care if I forgive you?”

He frowns, less disappointed, more intrigued and lifts his hand to brush your hair from your neck, fingertips grazing over your skin. Your body stiffens in his wake, like electricity coursing through your shoulders, down your spine.

“I’d hate to have it hanging over my head,” he mutters.

You turn your head and now your faces are inches apart. His nose twitches as he breathes, you notice.

His palm comes to rest on your bare thigh, below the hem of your shorts. In the corner of your eye you see heads of silver hair glancing across the firepit. Aegon chuckles. You’re content to let the distractions fade away. “Keep bringing me coffees and I’ll consider it.”

The next day you’re laying on your bed, enjoying the cool of the early evening against your damp skin and hair after a shower. How you can be so exhausted after a day of reading by the pool makes you despair a little. It’s the heat, it messes with your brain.

The music through your headphones is interrupted by a notification.

Helaena Targaryen: Aemond said he’s off to walk the dogs if you want to join him.

You frown at the screen. Did he want Helaena to ask you? You specifically?

Surprisingly, you were getting on rather well with Aemond today, not enough for him to text you himself, or ask for your number for that matter. At the very least, things have been less hostile since your first encounter. You saw him at breakfast and he asked you how you were getting on with Crime and Punishment, if you had finally realised that it’s the best piece of literature put to the world (his words). You said you were not convinced, only because it was fun to argue about it with him. While you were sitting by the pool he came down in a pair of black trunks and no shirt, swam twenty laps in twenty minutes, then dried off in the lounge chair next to yours. Later, while Helaena was sitting with you, he appeared from the kitchen with two bowls of strawberries with the stems cut off. And then at lunch he sat between Aegon and Daeron, and hardly looked at you.

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard, painfully conscious that Helaena will be able to see that you’re typing.

Helaena Targaryen: I think it’s part of him ‘making amends’ with you.

Helaena Targaryen: He probably still feels bad about it.

Helaena Targaryen: Loser.

You smile to yourself and type out your reply: Yeah, why not. Where does he want me?

While Helaena starts to type you quickly pull on some shorts and a clean t-shirt. Your phone dings while you’re in front of the mirror, dabbing concealer under your eyes.

Helaena Targaryen: Front door. Five mins. Have fun :)

It will probably take you five minutes to find your way down to the entrance hall anyway. You finish your face off with some blush on the apples of your cheeks and a thin amount of mascara on your lashes. There’s not much you can do about your wet hair, but other than that you’re mostly satisfied with yourself, so you pull on a pair of trainers, slip your phone into your back pocket and hurry through the corridors of Dragonstone.

He’s waiting for you in the entrance hall by the door, Vhagar, the great dane on one leash, Sunfyre, the golden labrador on another. He gives you a half smile as you approach them.

“Who am I walking?” you say.

“My girl stays with me,” he says, offering you Sunfyre’s leash, which you take, ruffling his ears.

“Vhagar is your girl then, is she?” you ask as Aemond leads you out the door and down the front steps, past the spot where she scared you half to death. The dogs are eager to storm ahead but Aemond keeps Vhagar on a tight lead, so you do the same.

“I suppose. We’ve had great danes forever, my father’s very fond of them. We got Vhagar when I was sixteen and well, we just like each other a lot I guess.”

“What about Sunfyre?”

“He’s Aegon’s really, but mostly he stays at the Keep with mum and dad. Aegon doesn’t really stay in the same place long enough.”

“Sounds exciting.”

“Yeah well, he does what he wants. This way,” Aemond says, nodding towards the downhill path to the beach. You’ve been down here with Helaena already, a winding gravel path lined with bushes and brambles down the cliff face. Vhagar plods along leisurely, Sunfyre can’t get down fast enough. When you stumble, Aemond steadies you, a large hand wrapped around your forearm. “He can run off now anyway,” he mutters, undoing the leash, and Sunfyre darts along the path in a golden flash.

Low in the sky, you see the sun dancing along the surface of the sea, waves rolling orange and blue into white foam as they meet the shore.

“What about you?”

Aemond looks at you with a brief look of bewilderment.

“Are you not doing what you want?”

He tries to conceal a frown, pouting his lips slightly. “Maybe I did for a bit, wound up working for Targ Corp, so I don’t see what difference any of it made.”

Once you reach the sand and Sunfyre is sniffing at some rocks along the base of the cliff, Aemond looks at you. “Are you alright if I take her off the leash?”

Vhagar looks pleadingly up at her owner, her tail thrumming against the ground.

“Yeah, of course,” you say.

“I just didn't know if you’d be comfortable after…”

“Oh,” you say, “thanks for considering it, but yes, it’s more than fine.”

Aemond grins as he undoes the clasp connecting the lead to Vhagar’s collar.

“What?” you ask.

“Does that mean you forgive me now?”

You fold your arms, your cheeks straining as you try to withhold the extent of your smile. “You do make a good coffee, I’ll give you that.”

Sunfyre and Vhagar entertain themselves, chasing each other, running to the edge of the water where the waves rush over the sand and retreat again. You and Aemond walk along the shore where the sand is damp and stable. Aemond says the tide will be coming in within the hour.

“So why work for Targ Corp if you don’t want to?” you ask him.

Aemond contemplates this for a moment, making a low humming noise in his throat. “If I really didn’t want to, I wouldn't.”

“But if Aegon gets to do what he wants, why don’t you?”

He looks down at his shoes, white sneakers, and digs his hands into the pocket of his joggers. “I remember thinking when I finished my bachelor’s, there were lots of things I was good at.”

You make a teasing face.

“No, I just mean there’s lots of things I could have done. I thought about being a curator, or something, you know? I did my dissertation on that actually, how museums and exhibitions can distort the past as well as preserve it–” he interrupts himself with a short tut. “Sorry, I don’t need to bore you.”

Your eyes trail along the curve of his jaw and his chin in the fading light. The wind is gentle, whispering over the bare skin of your cheeks, your arms, your legs. The smell of sea salt lingers in your nose and on your tongue. “I’m not bored,” you say.

With a shy sort of smile he tells you more, how he used to spend hours in the museums in Oldtown, looking at exhibits on Dorne, Essos and Valyria, the papers he read, the cultural memory and the dissonance. “History and heritage, when you think about them, are inherently vague concepts,” he says, “because they’re all based on claims and narratives that are difficult to determine and if they are clear cut, they’re biased. So how do we find the truth? How do we know that what we’re claiming is the right story is actually accurate?” You find yourself watching the parts of him you usually do. He speaks with his hands, indicating and gesturing and moving them randomly when he’s trying to think of a word or explain himself. Occasionally he runs his fingers through his hair or rubs his chin. And his single eye is wide, looking up as he pieces together a thought, looking back to you so he knows you’re still listening.

“But after all that, you went and trained to be an accountant?” you ask.

“You should have seen the look on my father’s face when I told him I wanted to do a masters in museum studies. So yeah, accounting it was.”

It makes you sad, but you don’t want to tell him that. The entire time you’ve been here you’ve never seen Aemond so animated, talking about something he seems to love.

“What about you? What are your big life plans?” he says.

“Anything but accounting.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, I bet.”

“I’ll do a masters eventually, but I want to work for a little bit. I’ll start applying for jobs when I’m home.”

“In King’s Landing?”

“Yeah.” You look back up at the dark stone of the cliff, the layers and straight lines, the tops of the castle’s turrets just visible from the shore. “Yeah, yeah I think there’s so much pressure to find something to do. I mean, I was trying to focus on my dissertation and my exams, and I kept having these weird moments where I’d think, what’s the point? I don’t have a job ready to go. I don’t have a place on a masters course. I don’t have any plans to travel or volunteer at an orphanage in Meereen. It was like there was a timer going off in my brain and if I didn’t make something of my life before my exams were over, well it was all going to be a waste.” Now you’re the one moving your hands mindlessly, and you don’t know why but saying it all out loud makes you nervous. “Sometimes I feel like I’m running out of time.”

You look back at Aemond and realise you’ve stopped walking. Somewhere along the beach the dogs bark and splash in the shallowest part of the water. Aemond is watching you. He still has his hands in his pockets, his lips curled into a vague smile. “You have plenty of time, don’t worry,” he says.

It suddenly strikes you what Alicent had mentioned, about him moving back to King’s Landing.

Without stepping away from him you take a mental note of him, your eyes glancing up and down. You want to remember his silhouette, his posture and how he stands, the way he angles his chin, the way he likes to hold his hands behind his back, the joggers and the shape of his torso though his t-shirt. You think you could recognise him at a brief glance, a single body in a crowded city. You think you’d find him.

Aemond meets your eye and raises his brow.

You smile slightly to fein innocent interest. “We’ll be neighbours, we might see each other wandering around the city.”

But you realise you’ve made a mistake. His amusement starts to fade from his face, his shoulders stiffening. He turns and puts his middle finger and thumb in his mouth to whistle the dogs. They both freeze and bound back towards you. “Tide will be coming in soon,” he says to you.

He has Vhagar and Sunfyre on their leads again. By the time you come back to the path on the cliff the sky is a dull shade of dark blue. The castle looms in darkness and the light comes from within, golden through all of its windows.

“I’m sorry if I was a bit of a downer,” you say.

“You’re fine,” Aemond says. Your steps sound in perfect time along the gravel, up to the front steps. Vhagar and Sunfyre huff and pant, pulling on their leads and eager for a rest.

You reach the door and Aemond opens it. Down the hall one of the butlers is waiting to take the dogs.

“It’s just, I thought we were getting on.”

“We are,” Aemond mutters. “Do you think we are?”

It’s hard to tell with Aemond. He’s polite when he needs to be, easily irritated around his siblings. He’s so calm and composed, but you can see it in his eye when he’s thinking– you just don’t know what. But then there are moments like this, when you think you’ve scratched the surface, when his gaze lingers on you and his eye is soft but intent. When he brings you a coffee in the morning, when he tells you about his favourite book and the things he wishes he’d done with his life.

You’re standing in the entrance hall. Dragonstone is alive, filled with people and distant sounds. Beyond the ancient walls the wind picks up and the tide is coming in. If you took one step closer to Aemond, your navel would be pressed against his.

“I want us to get on,” you say.

“Me too.”

“And I thought we were getting somewhere.”

“Maybe we are,” he says. “I liked this, you’re a good listener.”

“I don’t get that a lot.”

“Do you not?”

“Well I suppose it helps if the person speaking has something interesting to say.”

“Oh,” he says with a little nod, “I thought you were going to say you just liked me that much.”

“That helps too.”

No taglist, follow @ficsbygee and turn on post notifs for updates <3

#hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #this gives me mayor saltburn vibes but in a good way #I really like the characterization of aemond #after a whole season of him getting gradually unhinged (which is interesting to watch)#I needed something like this #nice relaxed and quiet

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rhaenysaemma22 · 3 months ago

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*La familia Targaryen estaba en el funeral de Vaemond Velaryon quien había sido asesinado por unos ladrones,el Rey jaehaerys, la Reina Alysanne y Daemon estaban dándole las condolencias a su hermano Lord Corlys Velaryon, Viserys estaba a un lado con sus dos hijos y su esposa susurrando entre ellos, mientras Aemma tenia a Rhaenyra y a Visenya una de cada lado agarradas por los hombros, y Rhaenys tenía a los gemelos con ella pero cuando le fueron a dar las condolencias a Lord Corlys las personas a su alrededor empezaron a susurrar a sus espaldas.*

L. Corlys: Disculpe las malas palabras Princesa Rhaenys, tal parece que muchas personas no entienden como pueden tratar mal a unos niños inocentes. *Le susurra sonriendole a los gemelos.* Pido disculpas si mi familia la ha ofendido en algo.

Rhaenys: No se preocupe Lord Corlys, he estado acostumbrada a tales faltas de respeto hacia mi familia. *Dice mirando a los dragones de sus abuelos junto con Caraxes, Meleys y Syrax volar alrededor del funeral, mientras los de Viserys estaban en el suelo.*

*De la nada se escucho un rugido fuerte haciendo que los demás dragones respondieran rugiendo en respuesta llamando la atención de las personas quienes susurraban de sorpresa, para después ver qué era Balerión el dragón de Aegon el Conquistador que estaba volando por la isla, Aemond quien era el jinete de Vaghar al verlo se emociono mucho por qué pensaba que sería su jinete si lo encontraba después.*

Jocelyn ll: ¿Mamá como se llama el? *Señala a Balerión quien estaba dando vueltas en el cielo.*

Rhaenys: Se llama Balerión, el terror negro, sus únicos jinetes fueron el Conquistador Aegon y Maegor el cruel pero después de que ellos murieron no ha tenido a nadie mas. *Mira como Meleys se le acerca a hacerle compañía a Balerión junto con Vermithor, Silverwing, Caraxes y Syrax.* Nunca a vuelto a tener a otro jinete.

Aemon ll: ¿Y si mi hermana logrará ser su jinete mamá? *Le pregunta viendo a Meleys volar, recordando todas las veces que su madre lo ha llevado a los cielos.*

Rhaenys: Solo si ella siente que algo la llama. *Le acaricia el cabello, viendo al otro lado del gran balcón a los hijos de Lord Corlys tristes.* ¿Porque no van con sus hermanas mayores a hablar con Laena y Laenor Velaryon, creo que les gustará su compañía? *Les sonríe apretandole los hombros.*

*Los gemelos asienten caminando hacia sus hermanas para hablar con ellas y después irse los cuatro a dónde estan los gemelos Velaryon mientras su esposa se acerca a ellos.*

Aemma: Mis condolencias Lord Corlys. *Le sonríe un poco.* Se que su hermano era un gran marinero.

L. Corlys: Gracias majestad. *Asiente en agradecimiento.* Si gustan, pueden comer o tomar vino.

Rhaenys: Gracias.

L. Corlys: Y si me disculpan tengo que ir a hablar con algunos familiares, disculpen majestad. *Hace una pequeña reverencia para luego retirarse.*

*Aemma volteo a ver a los hijos de Viserys, miro a Aegon ll el hijo mayor quien tenía dos copas en las manos, negó con la cabeza pensando que ese niño sería un alcohólico cuando creciera, de reojo puedo ver a su abuela y a su hermano Daemon acercarse a ellos.*

Alysanne: Es extraño que Balerión este rondando esta isla. *Mira a su dragón volar alrededor de Balerión, mientras Caraxes y Meleys intentan jugar con el.* Ha Silverwing le gusta hacer amigos.

Daemon: Los dos hermanos de fuego están jugando con el abuelo. *Se ríe.*

Rhaenys: En realidad hermano, ellos son sus hijos pero no lo conocen.

Daemon: ¿Enserio? Siempre pensé que Caraxes era hijo de Silverwing y Vermithor.

Alysanne: Son hijos de Balerión, por qué crees que ambos tienen cuernos. *Se ríe bajo para no llamar la atención.*

Aemma: Iré a ver a Helaena, debe estar con Elia. *Mira a su esposa.* No la quiero dejar sola con ella todo el tiempo.

Rhaenys: Está bien. *Le da un beso en el dorso de la mano.* Ve y cuida de nuestra cachorrita, recuerda que pronto cumplirá su 6 onomástico.

Aemma: Lo se, estoy esperando que llegue su día. *Se acerca un poco a Rhaenys.* Para que le presentes a Dreamfyre. *Susurra las últimas palabras para que solo su esposa la escuché.*

Rhaenys: Está bien, ve a cuidarla. *Le sonríe dándole otro beso en el dorso de la mano.*

*Aemma se despide de su abuela y su hermano para luego irse a los aposentos que les habia ofrecido Lord Corlys, Rhaenys por alguna extraña razón sintió que algo malo iba a pasar.*

Alysanne: ¿Querída que sucede? *Le pregunta al verla pensativa.*

Rhaenys: Siento que algo malo pasará pero no se cuándo.

Daemon: Debe ser el cansancio que tienes, no has podido dormir bien en estos días. *La mira preocupado.*

Rhaenys: Debe ser eso. *Mira a los dragones danzar alrededor de Balerión.*

*Mientras Rhaenyra, Visenya y los gemelos estaban hablando con los gemelos Velaryon para intentar animarlos.*

Laena: ¿Ustedes son hijos de la princesa Rhaenys? *Pregunta mirando a todos pero más a Rhaenyra quien le llamo la atención.*

Rhaenyra: Si yo soy la mayor, Visenya es la menor. *Señala a su hermana menor.* Ellos son los gemelos Aemon ll y Jocelyn ll. *Los señala a lo que ellos saludan.* Y la pequeña Helaena quien está con muestra madre Aemma ya que solo tiene 5 onomásticos.

Laenor: Ustedes son idénticos. *Señala a los gemelos.* Son como Laena y yo pero con el cabello diferente. *Frunce el ceño pero después sonríe.* Me gusta su cabello, es lindo y se ve suave.

Aemon ll: Uh, bueno gracias. *Se sonroja un poco.*

*Sus hermanas se rieron de el junto a los Velaryon pero la felicidad no duró mucho por qué Aegon ll y Aemond se acercaron a ellos.*

Aegon ll: ¿Que les sucede tontos?

Aemond: ¿Acaso intentan hacerse amigos de los hijos de un Lord para que los apoyen con la corona? *Se burla de los hijos de Rhaenys.* Son unos salvajes.

*Laenor al ver como los hermanos bajaban las miradas avergonzados se levantó quedando frente a los dos hermanos.*

Laenor: No deberían decirle eso a personas de su familia. *Muestra sus colmillos mostrando su casta de Alfa.* Ustedes no deberían faltarle el respeto a su propia familia.

Laena: Es cierto. *Se levanta colocandose al lado de su hermano.* Ustedes son unos rebeldes y salvajes, no saben siquiera respetar las tradiciones llevan ropa verde y no negra.

Aegon ll: Mi padre será rey cuando el abuelo muera y cuando eso suceda me encargaré de matar a cada uno de ustedes empezando con la primogénita de Rhaenys. *Sonríe.*

Rhaenyra: Solo si la abuela Alysanne lo decide. *Se ríe.* Por algo mis madres son sus cachorras favoritas.

Aemond: Eso lo veremos, tontos. *Mira a los gemelos Targaryen.* Ustedes son unos salvajes bastardos. *Susurra la última palabra.*

Aemon ll: Nosotros no somos salvajes.

Jocelyn ll: Ni tampoco somos bastardos. *Al decir eso Aemond se sorprendió enojandose más.* Que no tengamos dragones no significa que no tengamos la sangre del Conquistador.

*Los hermanos estaban por decir algo más pero llegó la abuela Alysanne con la esposa de Viserys Alicent.*

Alysanne: Mis pequeños dragones sus madres quieren verlos. *Les habla a los hijos de Rhaenys.*

Visenya: Está bien abuela. *Le sonríe.*

*Los pequeños dragones de fueron a la habitación de sus madres despidiéndose de los gemelos Velaryon quienes también se fueron haciendo una pequeña reverencia caminando hacia sus padres.*

Alicent: Los hijos de Rhaenys son unos rebeldes. *Susurra para si misma arreglando la ropa de Aemond.*

Alysanne: No te atrevas a insultar a mis nietos, puede que seas la esposa de Viserys pero eso no te da ningún derecho a insultarlos delante de mi. *La mira con enojo en sus ojos, a pesar de ser una Omega demostraba ser una mujer fuerte.*

Aemond: ¿Por que los defiendes abuela? Si son unos bastardos.

Alysanne: Por que ellos son Targaryen, tienen los ojos violetas de mi difunto hijo Aemon Targaryen y el cabello de su abuela Jocelyn Baratheon.

*Al terminar de hablar se retiró a tomar algo, dejando a la madre con sus hijos solos.*

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rushtoprove · 2 years ago

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as long as we're together

aemond targaryen x reader /// the last of us au

summary: with a virus quickly spreading and violence taking over, aemond tries to move your little family to a safer place. he didn't expect to lose you all so quickly.

word count: 4349

part one : and then there was nothing

it was meant to be your daughter's first day of school, not the start of the apocalypse.

warnings: : horror themes and course language.

i had so many half written stories but the moment i finished that damn the last of us episode my laptop was open and i was off. this is very loosely based off the show, and could probably be more just apocalyptic au.

“…major reports of violent attacks across the city. The continued disturbance has many leaders growing uneasy, and they are requesting citizens to remain away from the area until the violence subsides. Mayor Borros Baratheon promises swift action on the matter. The cause of these outbursts is unknown to those outside the city. Our reporter…”

“Aemond, I love you but if Elia sneaks into our bed from nightmares again, I will blame you.” You rushed past your partner, who was scooping cereal into his mouth on the couch, and hurriedly began pulling the array of pencils scattered on the table into their correct case. Aemond simply shrugged as your daughter braided his hair behind him. You could not understand how they were so calm when you were going to be late for Elia’s first day of school.

“She doesn’t understand she’s only six. Did you see this? We were only just in Storm’s End! Aegon thinks it’s a terrorist attack.” He frowned, without taking his eyes away from the television screen. He had been following the story all week, not that there was much known about it. They simply kept repeating that the population was experiencing violent outbursts and it was becoming hard to control. You hadn’t paid much attention but something about it had struck Aemond.

“It just sounds like they are rioting against the government. Your brother thinks everything is some big conspiracy and darling, our trip to Storm’s End was two years ago. I know you’re interested but we really have to get moving. Also! Six years old is enough to remember something scary on the television. Remember when you watched that zombie show while she was in the room? She had to sleep with us for two weeks!” Reaching forward for the remote, you quickly turned it off before moving to zip up Ellia’s school bag, while ignoring the noise of protest Aemond huffed through his mouth full of cereal.

“I don’t have nightmares! I’m a big girl now!” Straightening her back with a huff, Elia stood tall behind her father, and you were once again stuck by their resemblance. You were jealous of their silver hair and bright blue eyes, but it was also their headstrong personality and dominating presence that reflected one another. Your heart swelled as you looked at them.

“Come. We don’t want you to be late for your first day. I’m glad you are fixing your father’s hair because I want some photo’s of my big girl before we go.” You placed a kiss upon your daughter’s head, and quickly moved to do the same to Aemond, but he quickly tilted his head back and caught your lips with his own.

“I’m not having plats in for the photos.” He whispered against your lips, and you couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you, and in turn your daughter too.

“You look ravishing my love.” You pressed one more kiss upon him, before straightening up and handing your daughter her bag.

“Come on big girl. It’s time we get you to class.” She gripped the handle tightly, trying to figure out what she wanted to say, but the words seemingly escaped her, so she dug herself into your torso and buried her head into you.

“What if everyone hates me?” Her little voice was muffled, but you and Aemond both heard her words clearly, sharing the same look of concern.

“There is no chance my baby! Everyone will love you. You are kind and smart and I’m sure everyone will see that, and you will have no problems making friends! Also, Jaehaerys is going to be in your class, so you won’t be alone.” You bent down to pull her away, while brushing the hair from her face. Aemond placed a comforting hand upon her head and smiled lovingly at his only daughter.

“Yes, you shall have your cousin and you will make many friends. And if those little kids are mean to you, they shall have to deal with me. I can promise you that.” Your daughter giggled at her father’s threat, before twisting her little arms around his neck. He instantly reacted by pulling her up into the air and allowing her to wrap her legs around his hip. Elia reached for you, and you found yourself being tugged tightly into your husband’s side, and you all sighed at the feeling of being close to one another.

“I love you both.” She whispered, leaning her cheek into Aemond’s face.

“I am the luckiest man alive. How did I end up with such a perfect little family?” You let your eyes shut as you let yourself be overwhelmed with the comfort of having the two most important people in your life safety tucked into your arms.

“My loves.” You whispered as they both moved to pat down your hair. You could have stayed in that moment forever.

How were you to know that soon you would spend your nights cursing yourself for being the one who moved away first?

“Come on you two. Photo time.” Clapping your hands together, the two groaned in protest at your sudden change.

“OH! I can use the camera Aunt Helaena bought me!” Elia squealed in realisation before running off down the house you shared with your husband. Aemond began pulling the braids away so that his shoulder length hair could flow freely. You let your hands wrap around his waist and he quickly lent down to kiss the tip of your nose.

“You’re holding it together really well.” He whispered making you let out a tiny laugh.

“I couldn’t stop crying in the shower. It feels like yesterday we were looking over her cot in the hospital ward. She’s growing too fast.” Aemond hummed in agreement at your confession and let himself rest his head upon yours.

“Much too fast. Usually, I spend my days off playing dragons and princesses with her but now I don’t know how I shall spend my time.”

“I’m sure we will find something to do.” You giggled and he instantly grabbed your hips, pulling you tightly into him.

“Oh, I have my plans.”

“FOUND IT!” Elia’s scream ruined the moment and her heavy footfalls echoed through your small house as she neared. Swinging around the corner happily carrying the polaroid camera her aunt gifted her, Elia’s face instantly dropped in realisation.

“Dad… your braids!?” The hurt was evident, and you could not stifle the laughter that erupted upon seeing your husband’s devastated face.

“I had to. They were giving me a terrible headache. But I promise I will wear them tonight.” Your daughter let her bottom lip tremble, before quickly shaking it off and seemingly forgetting what had upset her in the first place.

“We need three so everyone has one! Mum, you have to take it because you’re the best at photos. When dad was setting it up, he took a photo of up his nose.” Reaching up, she let herself be lifted back into her father’s arms and handed you the camera.

“You swore you would never tell anyone.” Aemond faked a gasp of shock, and you quickly turned your widened eyes to your daughter.

“Do you still have the photo?” You grinned devilishly towards Elia, who returned the smile with the same energy.

“It’s gone. I burned it.” Aemond protested the two girls, but his daughter betrayed him as she giggled and shook her head.

“It’s in my diary.” The sound of her father spluttering out traitor made her scream in delight, and you found yourself laughing along with her. Aemond tried his hardest to keep a straight face, but he could not stop the corners of his mouth turning up. The noise seemed to catch the attention of someone else, and the sound of heavy footsteps and quick breaths quickly soured your mood.

“Vaghar no!” But it was too late, as your large dog raced around the corner and jumped up on you. Many said she was the largest dog they had ever seen, and every time she jumped up to reach on to your shoulders, you swore it to be true.

“Remember when they said this beast would only grow into a medium sized dog." You grunted out as you pushed her off you, trying hard not to buckle under the weight, while ignoring the laughter of your very amused family. Shuffling in, you held up the camera for your daughter, and took three photos. Elia made sure to judge who got each one. You had the one that showed Elia pressing her cheek to Aemond’s as you all grinned widely at the camera, whereas Elia got the photo of both her parent’s placing a kiss her cheeks. Aemond was quick to snatch the last photo, where your daughter and you were smiling with one another as Aemond gazed upon you both. Half his face was cut from the photo.

“I don’t want my nose taking up the photo. I just wanna see my girls.” He tucked the photo inside his pocket, while you placed yours in your wallet and Elia placed it in the small pocket of her bag.

“Oh god we’re late!” You gasped as you noticed the time before gripping your daughter and ushering her forward. Aemond quickly grabbed the keys for the car and began locking up your tiny cottage-esk house as you strapped your daughter in.

“Can Vaghar come? Please?” She whined as Vaghar tried her hardest to jump through the door you were blocking while you buckled up Elia’s seat belt.

“No Vaghar cannot come. She will scare the children and I don’t think your father will be able to bare being separated from you AND Vaghar at the same time.” You closed the door on her protests before hurriedly guiding Vaghar to the back gate and locking her in the yard.

“We will be back soon.” You promised, giving her a quick pat, then turning and running back to the passenger seat of the car.

“Vaghar is my best-friend!” You reached in only to hear the two arguing over the giant dog, which you chose to ignore and settled into the car seat. Aemond began backing out of the driveway but stopped when a distant vibrating noise started to grow closer.

“What is that?” Elia craned her neck to see, while you and Aemond tried to find the source of the noise through the windshield of the car. Soon the noise grew so loud it was deafening, making Elia scream and cover her ears. You reached your arm back towards her in fright as Aemond jumped out to get a better look.

“WHAT IS IT?” You cried out but there was no way he would have heard you. Soon you got your answer as three fighter jets raced lowly over your house, so low you thought they might hit the trees that covered your property. You and your daughter both screamed and ducked as the trees blew over so hard you swore, they would snap and fall on both the house and the car, but the moment was over, and the noise seemed to fade off into the distance.

“Why were they so low?” You gasped at your husband as he climbed back into the car. You reached a comforting hand to Elia’s knee and gave it a squeeze as Aemond began cursing under his breath.

“To be that close! I will be sending in a complaint! If I find out it’s a fucking training exercise for the army!” You could hear Vaghar’s roar-like barking, and the sound of your daughter’s panicked breath led you to calm yourself, and smile at everyone.

“It’s okay. It’s all over now. C’mon, let’s get to school. Everything is fine.” Aemond was still swearing under his breath as he began reversing again. Just as he began to let the car back on to the road, two police cars came racing past at unimaginable speed, making him smash his foot on the break and the whole car lurched forward. You cried out in shock, grasping on to his biceps as you both watched the red and blue flashing lights disappear just as quick as they came. Aemond stilled, before quickly swinging around to face you in incredulity.

“What the fuck is going on with the world today!?” He asked in disbelief. You shushed his language but could not still your beating heart.

“Are you alright Elia?” You both turned back to face your daughter who had paled dramatically. She simply nodded and looked out the window. She never liked to admit when she was scared, but the silence from her usual talk was enough for you to know she was shaken by the events of this morning.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get you to school my little princess. I’ll just have to be extra weary because apparently everyone is a moron today.” You hit Aemond lightly as he once again swore in front of your daughter, then braced yourself as the car edged back on to the street. Aemond kept one hand on the wheel, but reached his other hand to your knee and gave it a squeeze.

“Are you alright?” He mumbled. You turned the radio up to mask the voice of your husband and you talking from your daughter.

“A bit shaken. Do you think something’s happened?” You murmured. He inhaled, deep in thought, and you could tell he too was on edge. Another cop car weaved around yours, and you all turned to gaze after it.

“I’ll check the news.” You quickly grabbed your phone, and a part of you was scared you would have a bunch of missed calls from people trying to reach you. Instead, it was just a couple of work emails and a text from Adidas telling you it had a 20% off sale this weekend. You chuckled at yourself, and at the way you always imagining the worst possible situation.

“Nothing’s coming up.” You mumbled as you tried different news outlets and google searches. Aemond hummed, but you could tell the uneasiness was yet to fade. Grasping his hand tightly, you pulled it to your lips, and watched as he relaxed into your touch. His soft demeanour did not last long before you felt him clench beneath your fingertips. The quick spike of tension made you look up to see the road ahead had been barricaded off by police and cars were being turned around.

“Maybe there was a crash?” You whispered as Aemond edged the vehicle closer. You watched in suspense as the cop stopped talking to the car in front and began walking towards yours. Aemond allowed the window to wind down and you leaned across the divider to get a better listen.

“Sorry guys but you won’t be able to get into the city today. We’ve had to block it off.” The cop yawned making you screw your eyebrows together. How could he corner of an entire city and not be concerned?

“Has something happened?” Aemond questioned, frustrated that there was to be no explanation on why he couldn’t get in.

“All I know is something has happened, and we need to block of all incoming traffic.” The cop shrugged and gave no time for any reply before he turned and walked towards the car behind yours. Yourself and Aemond both let out a growl of disbelief.

“What about school?” Elia cried out, clutching her backpack tightly. Aemond began turning the car around while you spun in your seat to face her.

“No school today I guess sweetie. Maybe tomorrow they will let us drive in?” She let out a long whine, but it was obvious she was not truly upset.

“Fine. I GUESS we will have to play princesses and dragons then dad.” She sighed out in fake exasperation, and you let out a small laugh at your daughter’s antics. Aemond, however, clenched the wheel tightly and did not break his gaze from the road ahead. It was then you realised you were turning into the almost empty parking lot of your local grocery store.

“Oh, darling I went shopping two days ago. We have enough for a week.” He did not listen as he parked the car, before turning and pulling your hands towards his lips. He did not break eye contact as he stared at you, and a sense of uneasiness grew.

“Something is happening my love.” He whispered. You stared at him a moment longer, before shaking your head.

“Aemond I…”

“Please. Just humour me on this. Worst comes to worse I will refund all the cans of soup next week. I promise.” He began unbuckling his seat belt while you tried to comprehend his words. Elia eagerly followed her father, while you struggled to follow.

“What cans of soup?” You ran up to Elia and swept her up in your arms, while Aemond pulled out a trolley and rushed inside the store. He moved straight past the fresh produce and meat aisles, and instead pulled up infront of all the non-perishable foods and began sweeping them off the shelf and into the cart like a mad man.

“Dad what are you doing?” Elia giggled, while you pulled her closer into your body.

“Aemond I think you are being a bit ridiculous. It’s because Aegon is always telling you all those stupid stories he reads on the internet. I’m sure there was just an accident, and they are trying to clean it up, so they must rope it off.” His phone began ringing halfway through your speal and he quickly brought it to his ear with an apologetic look.

“Grandfather.” He greeted Otto cooly, as he does most of his family. He began moving forward, grabbing more tins as he walked, while Elia and you listened to him explain everything that happened this morning.

“Is something bad going to happen?” She whispered, moving your hair so she could get a look at your nervous face. You tried to tell yourself it was fine, but you did not lie to her.

“I’m not sure sweetie. But as long as we are all together, we will be okay.”

“We are at the store now. Yes, I’m filling up the cart. What is everyone else doing?” You were only catching phrases of what was being said in Aemond’s conversation, but you could tell Otto was nervous too. If Otto Hightower was feeling scared, you knew whatever was about to happen would be frightening. Within minutes Aemond had already filled the cart and moved so you could push it, leaving him free to grab another.

“Jesus Aemond.” You muttered, but turning around you noticed the almost empty store was filling up with people… quickly. You nudged Aemond for his attention and watched him breathe deep as he too noticed the way everyone was speed walking around the store. He quickly threw three first-aid kits into the trolley before you all moved to the counter’s conveyer belt. The teenager behind it couldn’t help but groan at the two trolleys full of groceries.

“I’m sorry. I’ll pack it just pass it down.” You apologised before putting Elia down and moving to the end of the desk with her quickly following.

“I’ll help Mumma.” She murmured, making you cup her head and kiss it. Aemond was quick as he unpacked the trollies so they could be scanned, while skilfully letting the phone sit between his ear and his shoulder.

“It will take us two weeks. I have some gas stored at home and it might be enough to get us there. Of course I know the way! I spent my childhood there. Just promise you will keep mother and Helaena safe. Yes, yes, Aegon too obviously. Are you sure you need to pick him up, I’m sure he can drive himself?”

“That will be $748.60.” The cashier’s voice tore you away and you couldn’t help the curses that fell from your mouth.

“Oh fuck! Aemond I don’t think we need…” It was too late as Aemond slid his credit card into the machine and began punching in his pin.

“When the fuck did he lose his license!? God do we even need to bring him, he will only slow us down? No, jesus Otto do not pick up his new girlfriend too!” He growled down the phone before quickly moving to help you fit the bags into the trolley. He pressed a quick kiss a top your forehead and moved to guide you out by the placing a hand on the small of your back.

“IT’S MINE YOU BASTARD!” You jumped in fright as a voiced bellowed from across the store. You turned to see two men hoisting each other around by their shirts until one gained enough power to throw the other into one of the shelves, leaving everyone to cry out and move from the falling debris.

“Come on.” Aemond whispered in your ear as he pulled Elia up and pushed you forward. You heard more shouting begin but Aemond was too quick for you to see what happened next. Elia turned her wide eyes towards you, and you tried to smile and calm her, but your eyes were full of fear.

“Alright. We will try and keep in contact. Two weeks hopefully. You keep them all safe so help me God. Yes, I will do the same with my lot. We will take the backroads. Yes. Yes. Alright. Alright I will see you all in two weeks. Where the fuck do I find a gun? What do you mean in my shed!?” You spun in shock, but Aemond just moved his hands around to convey that he didn’t know. He said goodbye once more, before throwing his phone into the cup holder and speeding out of the car park without delay.

“There better not be a gun in your fucking shed Aemond.” You growled. Aemond heaved out a sigh and began shaking his head nervously.

“Apparently he left it there because he feels unsafe when he visits.” You cried out in frustration and began nervously running your hand through your hair.

“What if Elia had of found it!? God he is a crazy old man! Why are you listening to him Aemond!?”

“I wouldn’t go in the shed it has spiders.” Elia quipped up from the back, trying to stop her parents from fighting too much.

“I don’t know! But the government has been told it’s some kind of virus. They haven’t been told much but apparently; it’s spreading fast.” You felt the car pick up speed as Aemond talked and you felt yourself clutch on to the door handle.

“Dad!” Elia squeaked, but Aemond was committed to getting home. The twenty-minute journey only took ten minutes.

“What is wrong with you!?” You cried out as he finally parked in front of your home. He rushed to Elia’s door and bundled her up in his arms, before opening your door and pulling you with him. He rushed you all inside, before quickly opening the gate and allowing Vaghar to follow you all in.

“Elia take Vaghar and go and play with her. I’m sure she has missed you.” You could not look at her as you began nervously running your fingers through your hair, while Aemond began making sure everything was locked with in the house. He quickly moved to the TV and you both stood as the breaking news played out.

“Authorities have declared a national emergency and have ordered all civilians to stay indoors. They say the sickness is fast spreading and that violent attacks have begun within the city. The army has moved in to attend but authorities repeat that it is crucial everyone stays indoors.” You felt your body still as the news reported whatever this was. Your vision blurred as you tried to centre yourself, but the horror you were hearing was frightening you more than you ever thought possible.

“They are saying it’s lethal. That the moment you get it you’re dead. We will go to my family's cabin in Harrenhal. Otto is hoping the fresh air and isolation will help us stay safe. He’s already picked up my mother and they are going to pick up Helaena and her children then they will get Aegon. We will meet them there. Pack some bags and we will leave at dawn.” The entire morning seemed to hit you suddenly, and the overwhelming fear made you buckle over and clutch the couch for support. Instantly Aemond was by your side. The sound of your daughter’s laughter, and Vaghar’s barking, quickly brought on the tears and you felt yourself being pulled into Aemond’s tight embrace as you crumbled under the pressure of it all.

“Elia. We have to make sure she’s okay. We have to look after her. She's so young Aemond. What are we going to do?” You wept. You felt him dig his nose into your hair and you felt his grip tighten even more as he began kissing you wherever he could reach.

“Always. We will always keep her safe. And I will keep you safe. I promise you that I will keep you both safe. As long as we are together, that is all that matters.” He murmured.

The sound of a piercing scream from outside silenced you both.

“Get the curtains closed.” Aemond whispered cautiously.

Another scream tore through the neighbourhood.

“We have an urgent update from the authorities. Stay away from the infected. The violent attacks are not looters, it is those who have the sickness. The virus seems to be taking control of the host’s bodies and controlling them to act out horrific acts of savagery. Even if it is your loved ones. You must stay away.” The news reporter could not finish before he began horrifically coughing.

“Michael?” Someone behind the camera whispered. You watched in horror as his body began twitching on the screen, and then the sound of the news staff rushing around before the camera fell to the floor.

There was a piercing scream.

And then there was nothing.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fic #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon

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rubywolffxxx · 1 month ago

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Corazón ajeno (Cregan Stark x lectora)

Masterlist de mi autoría

Nota: tiene finales alternativos. Al final dejo link.

Nota 2: desde anoche que tengo problemas con este fanfic. No me guarda borradores, o me descarta avances. Asi que lo odio. Ya ni ganas de escribir sinopsis xd. Lean. Ta lindo.

Cuando Aegon y Aemond fueron derrotados y Rhaenyra recuperó su legítimo lugar en el trono, todo comenzó poco a poco a acomodarse en Westeros.

Las pérdidas fueron enormes, y la reina quería compensar a todos los que siempre le fueron leales. Cregan Stark fue uno de ellos.

Sabía que tierras o riquezas era algo que no le interesaba como tal, por lo que pensó en algo más personal. Una alianza. Una venida de un matrimonio.

—¿Es en serio, madre?—

____ miraba a la reina sorprendida por la repentina decisión.

—Pensaba que lord Stark era tu enamorado de pequeña.—la miró con cierta burla, haciendo que la joven se avergonzara.

La verdad era que la hija mayor de Rhaenyra había conocido a Cregan años atrás, en la celebración del decimoquinto año de Aegon. Ella apenas tenía doce, pero el Cregan adolescente que vio en aquella fiesta se mantuvo en sus pensamientos todos esos años. Era apuesto, con pesada presencia y tan educado...

Verlo firme por el reclamo de su madre terminó de hacer que su corazón lo reclamara como dueño de sus anhelos y sentimientos.

Y ahora su madre le ofrecía casarla con él.

¿Cómo podría negarse?

—... ¿Puedo llevar a Sunny conmigo a Winterfell?—

—Bienvenida a Winterfell, princesa... Es suyo ahora.—

____ miró a Cregan con total fascinación cuando la recibió en las afueras de la fortaleza.

Era imponente, atractivo y feroz...

La incomodó un poco el tono tan formal y desligado que tenía con ella, pero no le dio mucha importancia.

La primer semana en Winterfell fue simplemente de acostumbramiento. No era sencillo para un dragón aclimatarse en el frío. Y no solo aplicaba a Sunfyre.

La gente en Winterfell era muy amable, todos la recibieron y se encargaron de hacerla sentir como en casa. ____ parecía ser apreciada por todos. Todos menos una persona.

—Pensé que había muerto.—Sarah Snow miraba como Rickon reía al abrazarse al cuello del enorme dragón.

—Casi muere, pero lo mantuvieron oculto hasta que se recuperó.—explicó ____ a su cuñada—. Mi tío y yo siempre tuvimos buen trato... Y antes de que todo terminara me hizo jurar que protegería a Sunfyre.— alzó a Rickon, acomodándolo sobre la montura—. Fue decisión del destino que Sunny me eligiera cuando Aegon murió... O tal vez fue su voluntad.—

—Mamá, sube.—La pequeña Mariah alzó las manos hacia ____, quien antes de poder alzarla, escuchó la voz de Cregan a sus espaldas

—Ella no es tu madre, Mariah.—alzó a la pequeña, para luego mirar a ____—. Agradecería que corrigieras esos malentendidos, esposa.—

—No me molesta, Cregan. Yo sé que-

—A mi me molesta... No quiero que se confundan y olviden a sus verdaderas madres.—

Auch...

Pero tenía un punto.

—Entiendo. Lo lamento. La próxima vez lo corregiré.—

Cregan asintió apenas, volteando hacia Rickon.

—Bájate de ahi, hijo. Es hora de entrenar con espadas.—

—Pero, padre...—

—Mas tarde podrás ayudarme a alimentar a Sunny, Rickon.—____ intervino al ver que el pequeño iba a hacer molestar a su padre—. Si tu padre lo permite...—

Rickon bajó del lomo de Sunfyre, acariciando su hocico una última vez antes de acercarse a su padre.

—La cena estará servida pronto... Vuelvan a la fortaleza.—

Cregan se despidió de ambas mujeres y se marchó con el par de niños.

—... ¿Estoy haciendo algo mal, Sarah?—____ volteó hacia la mujer, a quien consideraba la única amiga y confidente del lugar.

—No es eso, querida... Cregan aún sigue aferrado a Alys Blackwood... Y creo que incluso antes que ella, su primer esposa aún está en sus pensamientos.—Sarah miró a Sunfyre alzar vuelo hacia lugares más cálidos—. Los del norte amamos con toda la intensidad y significado de la palabra... Y mi hermano es alguien difícil de abrirse, pero con ellas lo hizo.—

—¿Y yo? ¿Seré capaz de abrirme a alguien por primera vez?—la miró preocupada—. ¿A alguien que ya se abrió a otras con anterioridad?—

—No voy a decirte algo con certeza, yo no sé nada... Pero si él te aceptó por esposa, es porque te tiene cierto aprecio.—

—... Aprecio no es amor.—

____ comenzaba a preocuparse.

Sabía que en Westeros las bodas por acuerdo y sin amor de por medio eran normales, pero ella no quería eso. Ella quería un esposo que la amara de la misma manera que ella lo amara a él. Un hogar cálido, una familia unida por lazos reales y no por simples obligaciones.

Ella amaba a Cregan, adoraba a los niños y veía en Sarah a una hermana.

Pero Cregan...

Sentía que estaba en un plano ajeno.

Cuando la boda se celebró, Cregan indicó que los "deberes maritales" no serían obligatorios. ____ pasó su noche de bodas sola en su cuarto, intentando controlar el profundo dolor en su corazón.

Pero lejos de lo que la princesa creía, Cregan la quería mucho. Pero la culpa pesaba sobre él.

Adoraba la forma tan dulce y amorosa con la que la mujer trataba a sus hijos, a la gente de su pueblo. Verla practicar tiro al blanco con Rickon, o bordados con Mariah llenaban su pecho de felicidad.

Pero entonces recordaba a Alys, y la idea de que estaba reemplazando su lugar no le gustaba nada. Rickon era más consiente, sabía que la mujer no era su madre. Aún asi la amaba a su manera. Pero Mariah... detestaba la idea de que la pequeña olvidara a Alys y viera a ____ como su mamá.

Estaba fallándole a Alys, a su memoria.

Pero por desgracia, Cregan procuraba tanto cuidar la imagen de su fallecida esposa que descuidaba a la actual. La cual poco a poco comenzaba a dudar de su compromiso.

—¿Puedo pedir otro regalo?—

—Estoy segura de que tu cumpleaños ya ha terminado, corazón.—

____ terminó de arropar a Mariah, enfocándose en Rickon.

Ese día fue el cumpleaños numero 10 del pequeño, y algo preocupada por el ambiente alborotado del salón -resultado del vino y descontrol de ebrios tontos-, ____ decidió que era hora de llevar a los niños a la cama.

—Uno más... por favor, ____.—la mujer sonrió.

—Bien ¿de qué se trata?—

—¿Sabes alguna historia de dragones? ¿Alguna canción para nosotros?—

—Ahora que lo mencionas... Mi madre me cantaba cada noche una canción muy bonita sobre un dragón que buscaba un hogar...—____ le cantó al par de niños aquella melodía que recordaba con tanto cariño, sin saber que alguien más escuchaba todo desde la puerta entreabierta del cuarto.

Apenas corroboró que ambos estaban dormidos, salió del cuarto. Grande fue el susto que se llevó al ver a Cregan ahí de pie, cortándole el paso.

—Por los dioses, Cregan...—se llevó la mano al pecho.

—Esa canción... fue muy hermosa.—

Por el tono de su voz, ____ supo que estaba algo ebrio.

—¿Lo es? Pues gracias.—

—No pensé que eras de las que cantaban.—la mujer cerró la puerta del cuarto, comenzando a caminar.

—Nunca me preguntaste...—

—Yo sé todo de ti, eres mi esposa... y eso no lo sabía.—____ lo miró divertida.

Tal vez un Cregan ebrio terminaría siendo mejor conversador que uno sobrio.

—¿Y qué sabes de mi, eh?—

____ se llevó una gran sorpresa al sentir que Cregan la atrapaba entre sus grandes brazos, pegándola a él. Su rechazo por el vino la hizo alejar un poco el rostro, pero aún asi no se separó. La situación era más que estimulante.

¿finalmente Cregan la besaría?

Llevaba meses viviendo en Winterfell, y hasta ese momento, nunca la había tocado. Sin contar tomar su mano, o presionar su hombro en una que otra ocasión.

Ahora sentía la calidez de sus brazos atraparla, y comenzaba a creer que las cosas podrían mejorar.

Pero no, harían justo lo contrario.

—Ya te lo dije, yo lo sé todo de ti, Alysanne.—

Para cuando Cregan besó su cuello y se aferró a su cintura, ____ ya se había bloqueado. Lo apartó enseguida, mirándolo sin terminar de creerse lo que había escuchado.

Cregan se veía desorientado, sin parecer asimilar que aquella mujer no era Alysanne.

____ comenzó a llorar, pero no tardó en huir del lugar. Se refugió en su cuarto, sepultándose enseguida entre las sábanas de su cuarto.

Se había decidido.

En la mañana volvería a King's Landing.

Apenas era media mañana cuando la estridente voz de Sarah despertó a Cregan.

La jaqueca hacía que los ruidos se multiplicaran y molestaran por diez, sin mencionar el griterío de la mujer.

—¿Qué quieres, Sarah? ¿Por qué entras así?—

—¡Los sirvientes dicen que ____ tomó sus cosas y se fue!—Sarah destapó a su hermano de un tirón—. La mucama dijo que ella parecía haber estado llorando ¿Qué diablos le hiciste?—

—¿Cómo piensas que le pude hacer algo?—Cregan hizo un esfuerzo por espabilar.

—Cierto... tú no haces nada, tú no dices nada. Por eso esa mujer cree que no la amas.—Sarah miró por la ventana, no había rastros de la mujer en el patio interno.

—¿De qué diablos hablas?—

Sarah volteó a mirarlo más que indignada.

—Vas a perder a tu tercer esposa... Y esta no está muerta, la perderás por idiota. Tal vez sea lo mejor... ____ es demasiado buena para ti.—

Cregan miró a su hermana salir del cuarto, y ahora sí se estaba preocupando.

No recordaba mucho de la noche anterior, pero mientras terminaba de abrigarse, una simple imagen llegó a su mente. Él la llamaba Alysanne.

—Diablos...—

—¡Sunny!—____ cruzaba aquella arboleda con dificultad. No tanto por la nieve que apenas se acumulaba en el suelo, sino por el frío que le carcomía los huesos. Tendría que haberse llevado un mejor abrigo. Aún así, la sangre de dragón la mantenía estable. Y estaba tan molesta que incluso le hervía bajo la piel. El dragón dorado emergió de una cueva, gorgoteando con cariño al ver a la mujer—. Māzigon naejot lenton (volveremos a casa).—Sunfyre se inclinó enseguida, gustoso de poder dejar el helado lugar.

____ amarró su única bolsa con las cosas que consideró importantes a la silla del dragón, y mientras se acomodaba los guantes, el trote apurado de un caballo la hizo voltear.

—... ¿Podemos hablar?—

—No quisiste hacerlo en 4 meses y ahora quieres...—____ terminó de acomodar sus guantes, y revisó las riendas del dragón.

—Lo siento mucho, esposa mia.—

—No me llames asi.—

—Volvamos, hace mucho frío... Ten, déjame darte-

—¡Aléjate!—____ le dio un manotazo a la capa que Cregan quiso colocar en su espalda. Y Sunfyre rugió al sentir la hostilidad de su jinete—. Volveré a casa, a MI casa. Y le pediré a madre que rompa el compromiso... Esto no debió pasar nunca.—____ ajustó la rienda algo histérica, sintiendo que las lágrimas enfriaban aún más sus mejillas.

—Déjame explicártelo, ____... Lo lamento mucho. Lo de anoche fue... Lo siento mucho.—

—Aún amas a tu esposa muerta, Cregan... Han pasado 6 años y aún la lloras.—ella lo miró finalmente—. No lo juzgo, pero si aún no la superabas, no me hubieses tomado como tu esposa.—

Ver que aquella mujer que tan risueña y amable era todo el tiempo ahora estaba tan rota... Cregan se sintió una mierda.

—Es cierto que aún amo a Alysanne pero-

—Esta muerta. Yo era tu esposa.—

Era...

—¿Crees que tus sentimientos valen más que los míos, Cregan? ¿Que yo no sufría?—lo increpó—. Crees que Alysanne merecía más tu amor que yo... Los muertos no necesitan amor, los vivos sí. Y creo que fui una esposa y señora más que digna de un mísero abrazo al menos... Y nunca me lo diste.—____ se quitó aquel collar que Cregan le dio el día de su boda, lanzándolo al suelo.

—No seas precipitada, volvamos y-

—¡Soy ____ Targaryen, maldita sea! ¡La primera con el nombre, conciliadora de Vale, princesa de Westeros y jinete de Sunfyre. No debería estar aquí rogando por el amor a una muerta!—Subió al dragón enseguida, y después de que Sunfyre le rugiera en la cara, ____ ascendió a los cielos, perdiéndose entre el nublado cielo.

—Tienes suerte de que esa mujer aprecia a tus hijos y quiero creer que a mi también... o ya tendríamos a cinco dragones reduciendo Winterfell a cenizas.—Sarah miró a su hermano, quien sujetaba su rostro frustrado entre ambas manos.

—No estaba siendo consciente de lo mucho que ella estaba sufriendo, Sarah... He sido un cretino.—

—Si, lo fuiste. Mira lo que has ocasionado.—

Apenas la mujer dejó Winterfell, Cregan envió cuervo tras cuervo para solicitar su regreso. Ninguno fue respondido.

El pueblo comenzaba a cuestionar la ausencia de su señora, y aún peor, Rickon y Mariah querían a la mujer de vuelta. Cregan también. Pero comenzaba a creer que eso no pasaría.

—¿Dónde está ____?—Rickon entró a la sala acompañado de Mariah.

—____ volvió a casa por unos asuntos familiares.—respondió Sarah al ver que su padre no parecía tener idea de que decir.

—Se fue sin decir adiós... ¿Ella está bien?—Rickon no era tonto, sabía que algo pasaba. Extrañaba a la mujer, quería que volviera. Era su pilar ahora, y Cregan quiera o no, ella era su mamá. La necesitaban.

—... Tia Sarah ¿Irá ____ a la celebración de Riverlands?—

Cregan miró de inmediato a su hijo. Sintió una repentina oleada de esperanza.

Medio año había pasado desde el regreso de Rhaenyra al trono, y para celebrar la reconstrucción definitiva de Harrenhal y su entrega oficial a la próxima casa guardiana, celebrarían un gran festín. ____ fue la que puso fin a la disputa Blackwood - Bracken, por lo que su presencia debía ser casi obligatoria. Cregan contaba con eso.

—Él va a ir... Lo sé.—cargaba a su hermano más pequeño en brazos, hamacándolo vagamente mientras miraba a su madre.

—¿Quieres que corte su cabeza?—____ enarcó una ceja ante el comentario de Jace, quien sonrió apenas.

—Ya hemos roto el compromiso, no podrá reclamar nada... Y dudo que lo haga, no tiene derecho.—Rhaenyra la miró con calma—. Son una casa aliada, con la cual fracasó una boda... Dejémoslo en solo eso para no ocasionar problemas.—

La joven asintió no muy convencida, estrechando a su hermano con cariño...

Extrañaba a los pequeños Stark.

La pequeña caravana de Stark apenas llegaba a Riverlands cuando un rugido conocido por los pequeños resonó sobre sus cabezas.

—¡Sunny!—El pequeño Rickon casi y brinca del carruaje al ver al dragón dorado danzar en los cielos acompañado de Vermax y Moondancer.

—Son los dragones de Jacaerys, el hermano de ____. Y Baela.—Sarah llamó la atención del pequeño.

—¿____ me dejará montarlo? Extrañé mucho a Sunny también.—Rickon miró a su padre, quien no tenía respuesta a ello.

Apenas llegaron al castillo, Rickon y Mariah se escaparon de su padre, buscando a la mujer. No tardaron en encontrarla.

—¡Mamá!—____ sintió que su corazón se partía en mil pedazos al ver a Mariah en un mar de lágrimas abrazarla con desesperación.

Rickon se acercó también, aferrándose a su cintura y llorando en silencio.

Los estrechó con fuerzas, haciendo un gran esfuerzo por no llorar también.

—Hola, lobitos. Me alegra mucho verlos... Los extrañé mucho.—

—¿Por qué no volviste entonces?—

La mujer no supo bien qué responder, cuando vio a Cregan aparecer en el salón.

Respiró profundo, intentando mantener la compostura. Trató bajar a Mariah de sus brazos, pero la pequeña se aferró cual koala a sus hombros. Soltarla no era una opción.

—¿Podemos ver a Sunny?—Rickon llamó la atención de la mujer, quien asintió enseguida.

Cregan miró desde lejos como la mujer dejaba el lugar con sus hijos, y no tardó en seguirla a través de la multitud de invitados.

—Sunny se lleva muy bien con Vermax, se han hecho buenos amigos.—

—Eso es porque nosotros somos familia.—

____ sonreía con ternura al ver como Rickon se volvía loco con las enormes criaturas, y como Jace lo alentaba con sus tonterías.

—¿Puedo dar un paseo con Jace?—Rickon miró al príncipe—. ¿Me llevas, por favor?—

—No puede hacerlo sin permiso de tu padre.—____ intervino al ver que Jace estaba por acceder.

—Nunca pediste permiso para que volara antes ¿Por qué lo necesitarías ahora?—

____ volteó al escuchar la voz de Cregan, notando cómo se detenía a su lado.

—Porque antes era su tutora, lord Stark... ya no lo soy.—

Ah... Cregan se sintió horrible.

—Pueden volar si quieren, tienen mi permiso.—Cregan miró a Jace, quien no tenía problemas en mostrarle su peor cara.

—... No pienso dejarte a solas con ella.—

—Esta bien, Jace.—____ llamó su atención—. Necesito hablar con él.—El castaño asintió, invitando a los pequeños a seguirlo.

—... Te han extrañado mucho.—habló Cregan al ver que estaban lo suficientemente lejos—. Esperaban que los arroparas cada noche... Y me temo que yo no sé cantarles.—

—Yo les cantaba cada noche desde mi cuarto en King's Landing, deseándoles buenos sueños.—____ lo miró—. Yo también los extrañé mucho a ellos.—

Cregan se removió incómodo, sin saber cómo avanzar.

—____, yo-

—Rompí el compromiso, Cregan. Apenas llegué a King's Landing semanas atrás.—eso no le gustó a Cregan—. Ya nada nos ata... Pero si te parece correcto, me gustaría que Rickon y Mariah aún mantengan lazos conmigo.—

—Mantendrás lazos si reanudamos el casamiento... Yo no deseo cortar nada. Quiero recomponerlo, darte lo que mereces.—

—Tuviste 5 meses para hacerlo, para reforzar los lazos... Pero los fuiste gastando, y tuve que cortarlo definitivamente.—lo miró—. En una semana, comenzaré a buscar un nuevo esposo.—

No...

—Me presentaré entonces, pediré tu mano otra vez.—la miró con cierta desesperación.

—Que la pidas no significa que te la dé.—

Cregan se paró frente a ella, ya sin saber muy bien cómo arreglar el asunto.

—Dijiste que los muertos no necesitan amor, yo creía que si y por ello te fallé... Por favor, princesa... Solo una oportunidad más.—miró por un segundo el dragón que los sobrevolaba—. Ellos esperan que tú vuelvas con nosotros hoy, esperan que los arropes en la noche... Y yo espero que me acompañes también, para recuperar todo el tiempo perdido.—

____ sintió que su corazón flaqueaba al ver la desesperación que Cregan demostraba. Aquel hombre estoico que tantos días la mantuvo en la completa soledad ahora estaba ahí, rogando por otra oportunidad.

No supo qué responder.

—... Preséntate si quieres a la ceremonia de selección, será dentro de 6 días... Pero no prometo nada.—vio como sus ojos se iluminaban con esperanza—. En cuanto a los niños, me gustaría que les permitas quedarse hoy conmigo aquí... Puedo devolverlos en la mañana.—

—Eso los haría muy felices... Agradezco que a pesar de todo quieras seguir siendo parte de su vida.—

—Ellos y Sarah fueron la calidez que necesité para no perder la cabeza en Winterfell... Nunca les daría la espalda.—La mujer comenzó a alejarse—. Disfruta el resto de la celebración, Cregan... Dejando de lado nuestros asuntos, estamos en una fiesta.—

Cregan la vio descender la colina a paso tranquilo, más no la siguió.

Se quedó solo, esperando que Jace le devolviera a sus hijos. Aprovechó para ver cómo podría recuperar la mano de la princesa.

—¿Pero cómo es el juego entonces? ¿Me llevo el conejo?—

—Si gana, se lo lleva.—

—Es que ganaré, pero necesito saber si será vivo... Mariah no quiere que lo maten.—

—Esa es mucha confianza.—____ había estado mirando preocupada al animal en la jaula, cuando aquel lord se acercó con una leve sonrisa.

—Por supuesto, ganaré. La niña quiere el conejo y yo se lo daré... Por cierto, ¿usted es?—

—Benjicot Blackwood, milady... Usted trató con mi tío durante las reconciliaciones, ahora asumí mi lugar.—

—Oh, no estaba al tanto. Felicidades por el ascenso.—lo vio sonreír, para luego pasar la mirada al pequeño animal.

—Bueno, prometo que si gano, no lo mataré... ¿Lo aceptaría como regalo?—

—No, porque yo lo ganaré.—Ben sonrió incluso más, y ____ vio en esa sonrisa extraña cierto atractivo—. Pero, en el imposible caso de que usted gane... El regalo sería para la pequeña.—miró a Mariah, quien estaba a un costado.

—Si gano la competencia y el conejo... ¿Tendría algún tipo de ventaja durante la ceremonia de pretendientes?—

—¿Pedirá mi mano?—

—Ganaré su mano.—

—Esa es mucha confianza.—lo vio encogerse de hombros—. Pero eso ya lo veremos... Ahora enfóquese en el conejo.—

La competencia de punteria dio inicio, y al final solo llegaron ____ y Ben. El hombre ganó por poco.

—Una magnífica y hermosa criatura de finos rasgos y cabello tan banco como la nieve... adorable y con un encanto casi mágico, de fácil querer...—Ben tomó el animal en brazos, pero nunca despegó la mirada de la mujer.

—... ¿Habla de mi o el conejo?—El lord rió bajito, alcanzándole el animal a Mariah, quien no tardó en estrecharlo con cuidado entre sus manos—. Felicidades, milord... Posee una gran habilidad con el arco.—

—Se agradece la estima... ¿Gusta dar un paseo conmigo?—____ sonrió enseguida.

—Entonces ella era tu tía...—____ miraba pensativa como Mariah jugaba a unos metros con Nieve, su nueva mascota.

—No supe que era hija de Alysanne... Me temo que ha pasado tiempo, no recuerdo mucho su rostro.—Ben volteó hacia la mujer—. ¿Ella tuvo algo que ver con el fallido compromiso?—

—Algo no. Todo. Me temo que Lord Stark nunca superó a Alysanne, y mi estadía en Winterfell no fue tan llevadera.—

—Bueno... le prometo que cuando venga a Riverlands, la recibiremos como una reina... Princesa.—le sonrió—. No tuve ninguna ex esposa que me genere traumas, asi que no se preocupe.—

—¿Sigue creyendo que ganará?—

—Usted me elegirá porque yo de verdad la deseo a usted. No busco beneficios, tierras o riquezas... Quiero a ____ Targaryen.—sonrió emocionado—. Una hermosa mujer, valiente guerrera y con una gracia digna de dioses... no puedo permitirme perder la mano de tan maravillosa posible compañera.—

—¿Compañera?—

—Gobernaremos Raventree juntos, lado a lado... Y no es que desee una guerra pero la idea de luchar a tu lado me resulta increíble... Asi que por favor, dame una oportunidad... Lucharé a muerte con quien sea por tu mano.—

—No, por favor. No quiero sangre en el salón.—____ sonrió divertida—. Esta bien, Benjicot... Tienes mi curiosidad, esperemos que en la ceremonia des un buen discurso.—

—Si se trata de ti, daré todo de mi.—

No fue necesario.

Esa misma noche, muchos lores dejaron la fortaleza, pero otros tantos pasarían la noche ahí. Benjicot fue uno de ellos. Después de que ____ arropara a los niños, un poco de hambre la llevó a husmear la cocina. Ahí se topó con Ben, y lo que empezó como una simple charla casual, pasó a un disimulado coqueteo mutuo. Uno que escaló enseguida a algo más, y terminó con ambos compartiendo un paseo nocturno... y luego una cama.

La mañana siguiente, ____ llevó al par de niños de vuelta a Winterfell. Pidió poder llevarlos a King's Landing en unos días, para compartir más tiempo juntos. Cregan aceptó sin problemas, y enseguida aconsejó algo que le costaría la mínima felicidad que estaba guardando en su ansioso corazón.

—Puedes llevarlos, y yo los recogeré cuando vaya a la ceremonia de selección.—

—Respecto a eso...—____ le indicó a los niños que se adelantaran—. No habrá selección. Se canceló.—

—¿por qué...?—

—Porque ya elegí.—Cregan suspiró con cierto alivio, pero en cuanto quiso acercarse, ella alzó la mano—. Benjicot Blackwood es mi prometido ahora.—lo miró con seriedad—. Tal parece que la gente de Riverlands tiene cierto encanto... ¿No te parece? El amor lo demuestran sin tapujos o limitaciones.—El hombre sintió un punzante dolor en el pecho.

—Dijiste que me darías una oportunidad...—

—Nunca prometí nada.—____ hizo un gran esfuerzo por no llorar—. Y la verdad, tampoco creía ser capaz de elegirte de nuevo... Te miro a la cara y solo... Recuerdo el hedor a vino... Y como el nombre de ella salía de tus labios.—ladeó la cabeza con cierta frustración—. Solo... Olvídalo. Tengamos buen trato por los pequeños, aún quiero ser su tutora.—

—Quieren que seas su madre, no una simple tutora.—

—... Fuiste tú quien me recalcaba una y otra vez que no lo era y nunca lo sería... ni madre ni digna de tu aprecio.—Sunfyre se inclinó ante la mujer, dejándola subir a su lomo—. Serán invitados de la boda... Si no quieres ir, al menos deja que ellos y Sarah asistan.—

—Lo nuestro podría haber funcionado, ____...—

—Tal vez sí, tal vez no... Pero ambos aprendimos algo de esto.—Cregan la miró expectante—. El amor o es blanco o es negro... Tú me diste un gris. Y por eso no funcionó... Ten una buena tarde.—

El dragón alzó vuelo finalmente. Y Cregan miró desde el suelo y por segunda vez como la mujer dejaba aquellas tierras que él tanto anhelaba ella considerara su hogar.

Cuando la boda llegó, Cregan asistió a King's Landing. Y al ver a la mujer en un hermoso vestido negro y rojo, sonriendo como nunca la había visto hacerlo, en brazos de un hombre que no desaprovechaba ni una sola oportunidad para abrazarla...

Entendió lo mucho que había perdido.

Y por tercera vez, se quedaba solo.

Esta vez por algo que fue completamente su culpa.

Finales alternos

#español #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fandom #hotd cregan #cregan stark fanfic #cregan stark x you #cregan x reader #cregan stark #cregan fanfiction #cregan x you

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