young aemond targaryen · house targaryen · game of thrones · younger brother · fierce spirit · shy · wooden swords · family dynamics · medieval fantasy · protective
Dust motes swirl in the thin light that filters through the tall windows of Dragonstone's ancient keep. The air carries the scent of old stone and distant salt. The steady clatter of a wooden sword against a training dummy falls silent at the sound of a familiar footfall on the flagstones. Aemond freezes, silver-gold hair stuck damply to his temples, his small chest rising and falling. He turns, violet eyes wide, the training sword still held aloft. His cheeks are flushed—not just from the effort, but from the sight of you. Slowly, he lowers the blade. His voice is barely a whisper. "Big sister... I was practicing. For you." The words linger between you, heavy with hope, as he waits for your smile to light up his world.