Blood of Old Valryia (Aemond Targaryen FF)

Chapter Thirteen

"Lost, are you?" The voice sneered from behind her.

"No," she replied confidently, her voice low and steady. "Are you?"

With a deep breath, Aesira prepared herself for the fight ahead. She curled her fingers around the end of her staff, feeling the familiar weight and balance. Her eyes darted around the area, taking in her surroundings and searching for any potential weaknesses she could exploit.

Aesira felt the heat radiating from the dragon egg nestled against her chest as the voice behind her drawled, "Just give us what you have, and we'll go our separate ways."

But she knew she could never hand over Rhaena's egg, not even if it cost her own life.

Jace tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, his eyes locked onto the group of thugs that stood before him and Aesira. They had demanded that they hand over whatever it was they were protecting, but Aesira refused to give an inch.

With a roar, the thugs lunged forward as one, their weapons drawn and ready for battle. But Jace and Aesira were ready for them. They stood their ground, their weapons at the ready, their bodies tense and prepared for the fight ahead.

Jace quickly withdrew his sword and stepped around Aesira to charge at the two men who were approaching them from behind. Aesira, not missing a beat, whipped out her staff and swung it forward, using it as a club to connect with the chin of one of the aggressors. She remembered how she had wielded Sanlow's prodding stick against Sakaris, and now she used the same technique to devastating effect.

The assailant's head snapped back with a crunching sound that echoed through the alleyway. The force of the blow sent him reeling backwards, and he crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

As the first assailant crumpled to the ground, the second man seized the opportunity and grabbed Aesira's staff. He gripped it tightly, preventing her from using it as a weapon.

Aesira's panic set in as she realized she was now weaponless and vulnerable. She yanked on the staff, trying to jostle it loose and attack again, but the second assailant's hold on it was as strong as steel. He easily ripped the staff from her hands and tossed it to the side, where it clattered to the ground.

With the staff out of her reach, Aesira knew she had to think fast. The second assailant advanced on her, a cruel smile on his face. He clearly relished the thought of taking down a defenseless opponent.

Don't let him get close enough to grab you, Aemond's words broke through her panic. Don't let him get his arms around you.

Aesira took a deep breath and forced herself to look at the scarred and bruised face of her attacker. She knew she had to stay calm and focused if she wanted to survive this encounter. She remembered the lessons that Aemond had taught her, about the way men would advance if they wanted something from her.

With this knowledge in mind, she focused on analyzing the man's movements and body language. The world around her seemed to shift and quiet as she watched him slowly approach her. The panic inside her slowly turned into something wild and feral.

She saw the way the man shifted his weight, the way his eyes darted around her, looking for an opening to strike. She saw the way his muscles tensed, ready to pounce. And in that moment, she knew what she had to do.

Aesira stood her ground, her Staff lying on the ground beside her. She knew that she needed to be patient and wait for the right opportunity to strike. She let the man get close to her, so close that he probably thought he had the upper hand.

But Aesira was not one to be underestimated. As the man lunged for her, she swiftly slipped under his broad arms and retrieved her Staff from the ground. The man twisted and lunged for her again, his intent clear: to disarm her again.