❝ 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!" A voice called, rattling around in Coren's brain as he lay on the floor. A boot hit his ribs, causing the teenager to groan and roll away from whatever was abusing him on that particular morning. "Coren, get up!"
Coren's eyes opened blearily, squinting up at the sky and the man that was blocking part of it.
"Jorah, always a pleasure to see you." He grinned, before using the wall to help pull himself to his feet. Stumbling, he groaned at the spinning in his head. "What do you want?"
"Come on, I've found us a job." Coren finally managed to open his eyes fully, staring up at the older man with annoyance.
Jorah Mormont was a bear of a man, easily standing a good few inches above Coren's height with enough muscles to look like a threat. He was still dressed in his dusty old armor, that covered him from head to toe and Coren was unsure how the man wasn't sweating under the heat of the Pentos sun.
"What is it this time? Guarding some useless merchant around Pentos? Or is it following a donkey caravan again?" Coren hissed, grabbing his sword and dagger from the floor next to where he had slept, and sheathing them. Jorah sighed once more, before dragging the twenty year old out of the brothel that he had found him in.
"No." Jorah grimaced at the smell of the dark-haired boy. "You smell like a pig sty. And look like one too."
Coren shrugged, pulling some straw out of his chain link armor. Turning around, he shot a trouble making grin up at some of the women of the night, who all began to giggle and blush at the sight of him.
"Coren. Be serious, please." Jorah hissed at the younger boy, who spun around on his heel and hurried to catch up to the bear man's side.
"What's the job then?"
"We're going to be personal guards for two Targaryens." Jorah began, as Coren raised an eyebrow, barely managing to keep the shock from his face.
"They all died in the rebellion." Jorah shook his head, before leading him over to where their horses were already waiting. "Some survived?"
"Two. Siblings, Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen." Coren took a moment for that news to process in his head.
17 years ago, when Coren was only three, Robert Baratheon had taken control of Westeros from the Mad King. Supposedly, Tywin Lannister had ordered for all the other Targaryens, including babies, to be murdered after the crown prince, Rhaegar, died on the field of battle, though it had never been proven.
