RunAway Gentle Dragon|| Naerys Targaryen

XXIX

Aemon didn't cry when his father fell to the stranger. The fever that had took him was strange so sudden it was startling. Aemon watched the body of his father burn quietly. Only a year had past and here the King laid, dead and quiet as the flames of the pyre consumed him.

Aemon laces fingers with the love his eyes, squeezing tighter then be usual would as his mind betrayed him and placed her into the burning flames of the pyre. He closed his eyes as they burned with tears. His mind wondering if this child that she carried. His child, his mind wondered if she would give her life for their child, if she would leave him alone in the dark world.

He cleared his mind when he heard her voice. "Aemon?" She said and he opened his eyes and looked at her. "Are you okay?"

He nod kissing her hand. "Of course I am," he said smiling weakly. "Thoughts," he said. "That's all."

She stared at him but nod slowly and looked back at the pyre, she'd grieved for her father long enough. She had fasted as of expected and she shed her tears. It wad hard to be strong when you were frail and weak. Especially when eyes reddened and hugged her husband and cried into his tunic.

Aemon felt her body trembled as she hugged him tighter as the front of her dress began wet with the loud splash on the ground and everyone turned from fair to snow pale as the blood drained from their faces.

"Seven hells."

(SHORT CHAPTER FOR A REASON FIND OUT NEXT TIME)