limerence (ˈlimərəns)
→n. the state of being infatuated or obsessed with another person
"You've changed, brother. A lot." His sister commented, looking all over him to find any sign of madness. "Thank you then, sister." Viserys r...
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XXVII : The Risks
Viserys stroked Zaephyr's much-bigger-than-last-week head softly.
His dragon let out a soft screech as he scratched it's scaled neck. And he smiled.
"We'll try our best to make you feel comfortable, Zaephyr." He said. "I'm sorry we have to put you and the twins in chains. But if we don't, those annoying Lords would sure attack us first. And your auntie's favor in the Westerosi would be decreased."
Zaephyr purred like a giant cat, as if he's trying to say, 'Why can't we just burn them down, daddy?'
Two shadows flew passed his head. Viserys looked up and saw the twin dragons in the sky above them.
Daenerys is on Drogon, of course. But Rhaegal, who's riding him?
A sudden shrill ran up his spine.
Jon?
No, they didn't know yet that Jon is her nephew.
He pursed his lips.
If it was really Jon, then he could feel the chaos coming.
He frowned and stared blankly into the white snowy field.
A soft touch on his shoulder made him flinch and snapped his head to the side.
"Did I interrupt your thoughts?" Lylian was standing next to him, her thin body hidden under a thick layer of black furred cloak.
He hold onto her slim, pale fingers. It was cold that he couldn't help but gathered them together and blew his hot breath onto them.
"You should wear some gloves."
"I have. And it was too uncomfortable." She smiled.
"I'll put them on once we get back to the castle."
Her blue eyes traveled to the beast behind him.
"Zaephyr." She said softly as her palm reached for it's forehead.
"Lylian..." The silver-haired prince was about to warn her when his dragon suddenly snug onto her hand.
"Impossible..." His mouth gaped open.
He just realized after their wedding that dragons are mostly deadly to the ones that are not their riders. And at first, he thought it was an accident that Zaephyr let Lylian mounted on it's back. Maybe it was too young to identify their smell, because at that night he was standing next to her.
This time, Zaephyr just leans onto her hand. And the grey dragon has grown enough to know who is who.
