5 Adella

"Adella was the only one who could get through my brother's stoic mask." -Helaena Targaryen

110AC

The hot sun beat down on the red keep. The air was still; there were no winds blowing; everything was silent and still.

Until a loud shout broke through the blanket of silence that had encompassed the training yard "You can beat him, big brother," shouted Aegon as he cheered on his brother, who was sparring in the middle of the training yard against an old squire.

The two were even in size, even at 7 name days old. Aemon was a giant; he stood 156 cm (5'1) tall and was well-muscled for his age. He stood opposite an older boy who couldn't have been older than 17 name days old. The boy was less muscled and only stood around 172cm (5'7) tall, holding a blunt sparing sword.

Sweat was clear on the older boy's brows as he panted heavily, trying to compose himself. Aemon looked relaxed, his breath constant and calm with not even a drop of sweat on his face. A cocky grin adorned his face as the raven-haired prince charged forward and unleashed a swift succession of blows, each faster than the last. He was pushing the older boy back as he could barely parry the vicious assault carried out by the prince.

The prince seemed to shift his weight and twist to the side, smacking the sword from the hand of the older boy, disarming him as he held his sword to his throat.

"Yield," the prince said in a commanding voice.

The older boy put his hands up, indicating his surrender.

"An excellent showing, my prince, yet you still telegraph your movements and your legs were too far apart." The voice of the master of arms says in a calm voice from across the field as he lectures the prince on his form and how to improve it.

The prince nods and begins to walk to the side to exit the training yard.

"Enjoy the show," the prince asks in an arrogant voice.

"Aemon, you know, when I said you should be more princely, I didn't mean that you should be an arrogant little prince ." A sweet voice reverberated through the air.

"Well, I'm sorry. If you drop that false sweetness with me, I'll drop the arrogant young master routine," the prince says in a more natural tone.

"False sweetness, whatever do you mean, my prince? You shouldn't say such things; it could break a girl's heart." A sorrowful voice permeates the air.

"Come now, Adella, no one is here, drop the delicate damsel act and be yourself, would you?" the prince says whilst massaging his forehead.

"Just my luck to get the one man in Westeros who doesn't like the damsel in distress routine, but I'm not going to stop it, Aemon; it's the least I can do. I mean, you did shatter this image that took me years to cultivate with a single meeting," said the voice with some amusement.

"The mischievous lioness of the rock is what they should call you instead of the treasure of Casterly Rock," Aemon says in a defeated voice.

"I can't help it if the sheep love me," a voice cries out with no small amount of pride.

"Do they truly love you or the mask you wear?" Aemon say

"Does it matter as long as it helps us achieve our goals?" she asked in a more tame voice.

"No, it does not," Aemon says in a serious tone.

"Ever the serious soul, why not put a smile on your face? Women love an adorable smile," Adella says in a mischievous tone.

"More women, you are enough for me to deal with. Thank you very much," Aemon says in an exhausted tone.

"I suppose that is best. I wouldn't want anyone else stealing my bothered, especially not when he's so much fun," Adella says with amusement in her voice.

"Don't you have to go be with my mother as her lady-in-waiting? Don't say the bothered part out loud lest someone hear of it and ruin our family's plans." Aemon spoke in a voice filled with urgency.

"Well, I do, and calm down. Absolutely no one is around. I just came to say that your mother didn't approve of your request to leave the red keep." Adella talked in a calm manner as she left a standing Aemon in the isolated corridor.

The end

I have a bit of writer's block sorry short chapter

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