Blood of Old Valryia (Aemond Targaryen FF)

Chapter Fourteen

"The Valyrians, aside from being dragonlords, practiced blood magic and other dark arts, often delving into the earth for secrets and twisting the flesh of beasts and men to fashion monstrous and unnatural chimeras."

"Chimeras...I don't think I know that word." Aemond exhaled heavily, carefully lowering his wooden training sword. Though he had grown proficient with his own weapon, he continued to use the practice sword in order to preserve Aesira's Staff.

"Chimeras," Aesira repeated the word in the common tongue, her eyes locked onto her opponent. With a determined grit, she raised her Staff, ignoring the burning ache in her muscles and the fatigue that threatened to slow her down.

She was dressed in her riding leathers, as she had not yet been provided with any proper training attire. Despite this, Aesira knew that she couldn't let that stop her. She had to be ready for anything, especially now that she was training to be a better fighter. After what had happened in Pentos, Aesira was more determined than ever to be a skilled fighter.

Aesira understood the risks of being caught brandishing a weapon, especially as a woman in a society that often underestimated her abilities. But the rush of power and agency that came with the training, was worth the risks. With each strike and parry, she felt herself growing stronger and more capable.

Aemond couldn't help but admire the fierce determination in Aesira's eyes, despite the sweat that coated her face. He too was dressed in his own training leathers, sweat glistening on his own body. But he knew better than to underestimate her.

"Alright," he said with a chuckle, "Let's do this." He tightened his grip on his own sword, ready to face the challenge that Aesira presented. He had trained with her long enough to know that she would not back down easily.

The sandy passageway they had chosen for their training was a tricky terrain to navigate, with a thin layer of loose sand shifting beneath their feet. Aemond had to be careful as he lunged forward, his sword raised high above his head in an upward motion. He was determined to get past Aesira's guard and strike her on the jaw, or at the very least, against her neck.

But Aesira was one step ahead, she knew this move well. It was one of Aemond's preferred starting attacks. She quickly stepped to the side, her Staff at the ready. She blocked the strike with a swift and precise move, and then counterattacked with a well-placed strike of her own.

Aemond was impressed, Aesira was becoming a formidable opponent. He knew that he had to change up his tactics if he wanted to catch her off guard. He looked around, trying to find an advantage, and that's when he saw it.

To the side of the sandy passageway, there was a rickety old table. It looked like it would collapse at any moment, but Aemond knew that it could be used to his advantage. He quickly made his way towards the table, and with a quick leap, he vaulted over it, his sword aimed at Aesira.

Caught off guard, Aesira barely had time to react, but she managed to block the strike with her Staff.

The wooden sword hit the stone floor with a soft thump as Aesira twirled the Staff around, tapping Aemond against his tailbone, his middle-back, and the base of his skull. She grinned triumphantly at him, her eyes sparkling in the dimly lit passage.

"Three points," Aesira said with a hint of smugness, knowing it was unladylike but unable to help herself. "And no cheating, High Valyrian."

Aemond nodded and licked his lips, parched, "The Father is prayed to for justice, and strength, and I suppose to protect someone in battle. The Mother is prayed to for mercy, and to keep your loved ones safe. The Warrior is prayed to for courage, and generally to have favourable conditions during a battle."