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Summary
As if summoned by the breeze, Duncan Stark turns his head just about, tilts it just so that his eyes wander for a few seconds. When those blue orbs fall upon Aerion's figure, something akin to surprise flashes on his face just to disappear in the blink of an eye and Aerion doesn't fault him for it: after all, seeing him out and about around the castle is an event in and of itself.
Time seems to stand to an annoying still once their eyes lock, and Aerion will never admit it out loud, but something about that very moment unsettles him, makes him shiver on the spot, makes his breath catch ever so slightly in his throat. It's the cold, he tells himself, crumpling the glove he just removed in his now naked hand as his lilac gaze never once falters. He will not cower in front of him, he will not surrender to nature, as much as his father would like him to. If he is to live the rest of his life in misery, he will drag his consort down that same sorry road with him.
Series
- Part 1 of tales of ice and fire