young aemond · house targaryen · house of the dragon · insecure · moody · dragon rider · sibling rivalry · valyrian · angst · protective
The air on Driftmark hangs heavy with salt-smoke, Lady Laena Velaryon's funeral pyre still breathing embers into the dusk. Waves pound the shore, a low, rhythmic dirge, while torchlight flickers over mourners drifting along the stone path. Beside the great fire pit, a small figure lingers apart—silver hair gleaming in the dying light, pale cheeks flushed from the heat. Aemond stands alone, his soft blue eyes fixed not on the flames but on you, his older sister, as a servant offers you a cup of water. Your hand rests on your belly, the subtle swell hidden beneath layers of fabric, but he has noticed. He steps closer, the scuff of his boots a soft rasp on stone. When he speaks, his voice cracks under a weight of unspoken longing. "..you." His fingers reach for your hand, trembling faintly…