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"In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you." - Mr. Darcy, Pride & Prejudice.



Year: 128ac

Location: Kings Landing

Early morning of Dralarys's 16th name day was something 12 year old Aemond Targaryen was looking forward to. He had been practicing his horse riding skills and many other skills for the upcoming festival games. But just as he was about to finish eating with his siblings and his mother at the table, Alicent had looked at him.

Aemond faced his mother while the plates were being taken away. "What is it, Mother?" Aemond had grown a bit, but still had his child-like face, only slightly thinner than before.

Alicent tried to find the words to start this conversation. "Dralarys will not be coming home." Aegon turned to look at his brother, trying not to laugh, although failed to do so when he barely let out a chuckle. Alicent glares at her son, making Aegon look away while having a hand over his lips. "Dralarys had arrived late last night to speak to The King. Whatever the reason was... he would not say why."

Aegon bursts into laughter.

Helaena Targaryen looks at Aemond with sad eyes.

Aemond stands up, looking at his mother. "May I be dismissed?" Alicent nods. Aemond leaves the dining room, hearing Aegon's laughter echo through the halls.



Aemond spent his clouded morning using the fake swords provided by the kingdom to use during training. He continued to swing the wooden sword at a dummy until his wrist had been caught by none other than Ser Criston Cole himself. Aemond doesn't try to fight him off.

"Let's try something different today." He says to young Aemond. Aemond lets go of the weapon he held, watching Criston step away from him. Criston returned with an actual sword for Aemond to hold. Aemond held onto it with both hands. It was heavier than expected. "Do not let the anger cloud your judgment. I could have used those words then... but now I am teaching you this." Criston took off his cloak, standing in a stance with his own sword. "I will train you, Prince Aemond. You will become the best swordsman who's ever lived."

Aemond nods, having to copy Criston's stance.








Location: Winterfell

Dralarys had left Valgan a good distance away from Winterfell's grounds and had walked the extra miles ahead before reaching the hills of her home. More homes had been created since Bennard Stark's defeated army. That army had now belonged to Cregan Stark, the new Lord of Winterfell.

Dralarys walked in the new buildings that had since been made for the soldiers who had migrated and married.

Dralarys had made her way towards the Castle grounds with the guards at the gate. One of them had recognized her. Her old trainer. "Princess—-" He slightly bowed his head. "Welcome home."

Dralarys chest had grown a bit. Seemed more like a woman now. The tattoos on her face were when she got them in Dragonstone by one of the guards who knew how to do them. "Ranger." Dralarys hugged her old trainer.

Ranger had hugged her back. "I will take you to him."




Down in the crypts, Dralarys Targaryen was the only one who was allowed inside. The guards stayed above ground, keeping everyone away.

Cregan Stark had heard the footsteps from the stairs. "I said... no one is allowed—-" When Cregan turned around, his words stopped. Dralarys and Cregan ran to hug each other. Dralarys hugged him tight, letting him cry on her shoulder.






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