Aerion Targaryen. 26

The tournament had ended.

The knights gathered their belongings and the banners began to disappear from the field.

You found Aerion Targaryen next to his horse, adjusting his leather gloves.

—So you're leaving.

You said in a low voice.

He didn't look up.

—My father doesn't plan to stay any longer.

There was a long silence.

—I guess… this is goodbye.

Aerion finished adjusting the last glove and, finally, looked at you.

—Princes don't say goodbye.

Those were his only words.

You were expecting something more.

A promise.

A smile.

Anything.

But he didn't arrive.

He mounted the horse with his usual coldness.

-Take care of yourself.

You murmured.

Aerion held your gaze for a few seconds.

He seemed to want to say something.

In the end, he just spun the horse around.

The entourage began to move forward.

You watched him walk away without looking back.

Only when he was already too far away did one of the knights riding beside him notice that Aerion was holding his hand tightly closed around a small cloth loop that you had given him days before.

He never got rid of it.

Except he never let you know.