❝I am not a dragon, Aemond Targaryen. You may have claimed me as yours, but to think I'd bend that easily? That is beyond foolish.❞
⟼ Ayla Bolton & Aemond Targaryen: bound by marriage, strengthened by love, ignited by madness.
𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗺𝗼𝗼𝗻𝘆 |...
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››a mishap
Feeling the night's cold breeze on my cheeks brings me back to life. I needed this breath of fresh air, far away from the Great Hall and all the people stuffed in it. We stopped in the middle of one of the many passages that connect one wing to the other, where the arches are big enough to let the wind run freely from one side to another. We should not be here, we should not have left the celebration. I can only imagine what people could have thought at the sight of Aemond pulling me away from the crowd with such urgency.
"We shouldn't be here." I reckon, leaning against one of the half columns. "It will mislead people's thoughts." I regret the way I said my last phrase almost immediately. It sounds like I want people to be misled, otherwise, I wouldn't be pointing it out first handily. Aemond shrugs lightly, he stands the right amount of inches away from me, the dimness suits him so well it makes his hair look even more silvery.
"You wanted a break." I shot him a curious look, a bit worried my uneasiness might have offended someone. "Your face was asking it for you." He adds, but his voice does not come off as harsh as it did in the Great Hall. Maybe we both needed this break.
"I'm sorry." I mutter, lowering my gaze to the floor.
"Don't be, there's no need." His mood shift leaves me quite bewildered, a couple of minutes before, he looked like he was ready to slice someone's throat. "Who is this prince?" Aemond asks, after staying silent for a moment.
"It's just a tale." I attempt to clarify, hoping he would lose the sudden interest in such a matter.
"I like tales." Aemond looks startled by his statement, but it slipped out of his mouth, so naturally, I am surprised, too. I smile at him, diverting my attention from his confession. There is nothing wrong with liking tales, I guess, if he knows that.
"They call him the prince that was promised." I say as soon as I notice my silence is starting to become a little too awkward. "Born amidst smoke and salt, he ought to be the one putting an end to the darkness the world will slip in, someday." A cold shiver runs freely down my spine, I am using the same words she used. "When the night will be so long that mankind would fight for the dawn, and the snow will fall so relentlessly, the prince shall be the last one standing, giving humanity a never-ending summer," I tell him all I could hear before fright got the best of me, the night I realized my family's ancient tradition was not that ancient as I believed.
The night I saw flesh wobbling on the floor as if it was a useless piece of cloth, where I understood one could actually scream in pain. The night I learned the hard way the reason why we will be forever known as the Bane of the North, and despised every bit of it.
The night an 8-year-old girl began to fear her parents and prayed to the Gods her brothers were not the same evil.
"You see?" I put myself together, brushing away that memory. "It's not always a King." Aemond snickers dryly.
