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"NO, LITTLE DRAGON. Like this, watch me."
Alia Sand pulled at the string, and drew her bow to an anchor point right by the corner of her mouth and exhaled slowly, careful not to draw for too long. Her eyes focused on the target before her – a straw-filled dummy with faux wooden armour, littered with scratches and indents – and shut one eye, waiting for that familiar tingle in her upper arm.
An ache surfaced, and she let go. Calmly, Alia watched as the arrow escaped the tautness of the bowstring and sailed through the air silently, landing in the dummy's chest with a dull thunk. She lowered her bow with a satisfactory smirk, eyes darting over to the youngest Targaryen who watched in bewilderment, violet eyes transfixed on the now-loosened arrow, buried into the chest of the inanimate target.
"It's really quite simple once you get the hang of it," Alia noted, "But just don't nock your arrow for too long. It's heavier than you think, and after a while your arm will start to hurt."
Daenerys tore her eyes away from the dummy, mouth slightly agape as she stared at Alia in what could only be described of as surprise. "And that's easy?" She cried. Alia smiled at the grin fighting at the corners of the Little Dragon's mouth.
"Well, yes. But you hold your elbow too high. That will only ache your arms, and you're at risk of pulling a muscle in your back. Lower it, and you'll find it's easier to aim and relieves the aching."
"How do you know my arm aches?"
"Everyone's arm aches."
Alia flexed her fingers and looked down at the weapon clutched in her hands. The bow was crafted of yew wood, flexible and slender, and wound around the grip was a line of string, a brilliant silver that looked like a fine strand of Targaryen hair. It was a custom bow, with patterns and markings whittled into the shaft and limb. Not particularly weighty, even for a hunting bow. It was Alia's preferred weapon – she refused to leave without it most days.
As Alia's fingers flexed and stretched out, she began to feel a familiar tingle and twinge in her fingertips. "I think that's enough practice for today, Daenerys."
The younger girl frowned. "But can I not just shoot one more arrow?"
"Fine," Responded Alia with a light-hearted sigh and a roll of the eyes, "But make it quick. The sun is going down."
The last sun rays of the day kissed the top of the Narrow Sea, with oranges and yellows swiftly melting away into greys where the sky met the ocean. As the sun burnt by the sea's mouth, it made way for the moon, barely visible amongst the faded shades of blue and white, but still easily distinguished.
"Elbow low?" Asked Daenerys, pulling Alia out of her trance.
"Yes. Wait, just a bit lower. No, higher now. Not that high! You're not aiming for the sun are you, Princess? Much better."
