❝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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››joined as one
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Funny how even the most basic thing a human can do is now extremely hard. Everything feels so surreal I am having trouble discerning what is real and what is actually going on just inside my head. I blame it on the fact I have already been up for too long, and the day has merely started.
Usually, the first sun rays of the morning would have been the ones drifting me away from my sleep. But today, it was a loud bang on my chamber's door when the sky was still painted in timid shades of purple and blue.
It reminded me of Aemond.
A crooked smile pops up on my lips, I should be begging my betrothed to give me back the little shred of sanity I had left.
There is a long list of things reminding me of Aemond around the Red Keep. Things I never thought could lead my mind to picture a face and a name whenever I spotted them. The littlest, trivial, insignificant thing now had a whole new batch of meanings able to set my chest on fire.
How pitiful of me.
Despite how insane it sounds, I do not think I would bargain those moments back to when the smell of leather was just the smell of leather.
When silver was just a kind of metal like many others and not a hair color. When the sky was still a limit and not a frontier.
The walls of the carriage I am in creak whenever the wheels meet a bump on the road, making its inside tremble terribly. The frantic trotting of the horses is the only proof this is really happening.
"How is my sweet girl feeling?" Mother, wrapped in one of her best gowns, is looking at me with eyes full of pride. Calling me sweet just because I gave in and accomplished her biggest desire, and I feel very much enraged because it turned out she was right.
It will not be that bad.
"Stupid." I answer, glancing at my reflection in the window. My hairdo is plain, according to the maids dressing me, with only three tiny braids bundled on the back of my head. While the rest of my hair runs freely down, embellished with tons of gem dots, the weight of which I had clearly underestimated.
"Don't be ridiculous!" Mother extols quickly. "You look utterly beautiful, Ayla." If she only knew I was not talking about my appearance at all. Father has not said a word since we found ourselves sharing the carriage bringing us to the top of Rhaenys's Hill, where the celebration will take place. He has never been a man of words, and I am somehow relieved. I wish I were alone in here.
"I'm just wondering why you are not wearing anything of our family's colors." As I predicted, mother is bitter about it. I knew she would have made a fuss as soon as I picked up the gems. "It would have been nice." She reprimands.
