Aerion Targaryen. 11

Distance

It had been more than a week since you and Aerion Targaryen had spoken.

After that argument, he had simply walked away.

No apologies.

Without explanation.

Without trying to fix anything.

And that bothered you more than you wanted to admit.

You met him during a dinner party.

Surrounded by nobles.

Smiling as if nothing had happened.

—It seems you've already forgotten.

You said as you approached.

Aerion looked up.

—Forget what?

—You know perfectly well what I'm talking about.

For a moment her eyes hardened.

But her voice remained calm.

—I didn't come here to argue.

—That's strange. I thought you liked arguments.

-Not anymore.

The answer took you by surprise.

And for the first time, Aerion looked away.

—Some things cease to be worthwhile.

He murmured.

Then he took his drink and continued the conversation with the others.

As if you weren't there.

As if he didn't care.

But when you walked away, you caught a glimpse of him.

Just one second.

The way he watched the door you were leaving through.

And you understood that distance was not indifference.

It was pride.

And Aeron had too much of that.