❝ You were destined for great things, and I was always destined to follow you ❞
The gods tried their best to keep Coren Thorne and Daenerys Targaryen separated, but soulmates had a tendency to come back to one and other, no matter how long it took...
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{ Coren }
✧✦✧
𝕮oren Thorne did not believe in ghosts. Sea monsters that roamed the deep was a plausible theory, dragons was undeniably real for he normally had one that nipped at his fingers but ghosts? Ghosts were a stretch for him.
That was why, when he had entered the House of the Undying and seen what he could only assume was his father staring back at him, Coren had paled.
His mother had often described the man to her two children, telling them of his kind nature, of his dark hair and darker eyes, of the way he held themselves and of how much Coren looked like him. When she become addled with fever, she would often call him by his father's name, reaching for her husband despite supposedly knowing that his father had been killed during Robert's Rebellion, fighting for the Targaryens.
The man held up a hand, beckoning Coren to follow, before turning on his heel and disappearing around the corner. It was not even a question of what he should do next.
Coren abandoned his queen, sprinting after the man and ignoring all shouts and calls for him to come back. He did not even care that he had ended up in the House of the Undying, his shoulders slamming into walls and almost tripping on stairs and dips in the sand beneath him.
"Wait." He tried calling out after the man. "Wait!"
The man would merely turn back to glance at him, before hurrying on. Coren let out a growl of annoyance, speeding up. There was a door ahead, yet it flung open at the sight of them and Coren hurried in. He skidded to a stop, looking around the chamber, doors across the walls ahead of him as he wondered where the man had gone.
A door creaked to the right, and Coren turned to hurry out of it, stumbling as he found himself in a cavern of sorts. The man was ahead of him, staring into a large gaping hole, pitch black and Coren turned towards him.
"What is going on?"
"Patience." The voice was smooth and deep, as the man rested a hand on his sword. He was dressed in armour, similar to Coren's, dark leather, with the symbol of House Thorne embedded in the leather. The sword had a hilt of silver, lodged with rubies and obsidian stone.
"Patience?" Coren cocked an eyebrow stepping closer. He reached the man's side, stepping ahead of him as the man looked down at him. His dark hair was somewhat shaggy, eyes cold and eyebrow cocked. "Who are you?"
