RunAway Gentle Dragon|| Naerys Targaryen

VI

When a King burns and a new one rises. Aemon is soaking wet as he tries to bathe his battling son. "Stop," Aemon said sharply, but Daeron only laugh and throws water onto Aemon. Soaking him further until his clothing a burdensome weight. "Daeron!" Aemon said more sharply and Daeron smirks charmingly at his father, and Aemon dodged water which was aimed for his face.

Mother above help me, Aemon thought with a long sigh. Hoping and praying his son of four years will calm enough to be washed.

When Naerys comes she is laughing at him. Amused by Daeron's half-dry appearance and his own fully soaked clothing. Daeron calms when his Naerys takes matter into her own hands and washes him without an bit of protest while Aemon watches as if the impossible was being done.

"It seems he likes you more than me," Aemon says as he changes into a fresh garments. Naerys looks at Aemon in surprise. "Nonsense," she says and Aemon gives her a half-smile. He wasn't surprised of course. No he remember he himself had been more fond of his mother when he was a child. But deep within it still hurt. "He will change as he grows," she said looking at their son who laid sprawled on the bed in a wonderful sleep.

I do hope, he wishes to say the worlds but holds them back. Only smiling at his wife. The woman he had married in secret four years ago. The woman who gave him a son. The woman that he will forever love until the stranger comes. And he prays that she is right.