When Rhea Royce died, the noble house of Royce blamed the Rogue Prince. Daemon Targaryen was the culprit for the downfall of the House, no matter what was said. Leaving Runestone with no Lord or Lady at its helm, a decision was made to promote a min...
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DONELLA was on edge for the days which followed her encounter with Aemond in the gardens. She spent her days and evenings charming Helaena and spent her nights waiting for the door to burst open with guards ready to arrest her.
As the Gods would have it, she was correct for being on edge. Almost a week after her confession, she awoke with a cold object pressed to the side of her neck,
"Wake up," Aemond's words were staccato, his face devoid of emotion as he pressed the sword slightly more into her skin. He did not press hard enough to cut the skin, but hard enough to cause Dyanna to freeze. His eye flicked to the tip of his blade, "If I wanted to kill you, I would not have woken you up to do so."
Dyanna swallowed, but the action seemed to bring her own attention back to the sword at her throat, "Then why are you holding a blade to me in the middle of the night?"
"It is time to train."
Their eyes locked, and Aemond finally pulled his sword away from her skin as she spoke, "You never agreed. Why do you agree now?"
"I had my sources research your... Claim. They confirmed that my half-sister is indeed pregnant once more. I asked them how a serving girl found out before they did, and they could not answer my question."
Donella pushed herself up from her bed until she came to sit with her back against the headboard. Aemond's eye couldn't help but follow the length of her arm, "Your spies are shit,"
"And my sister's handmaiden is a traitor," He shrugged, "They are dismissed. You are hired. You will report your findings to me, and in return, you will be trained in the art of sword fighting. We train under darkness, and you will not tell a soul."
Donella swallowed, "And what about Helaena?"
"Helaena will know nothing of this."
About a quarter of an hour later, Donella and Aemond were in the courtyard. Donella had dressed in trousers and a loose tunic, a heavy fur on her shoulders. The night was cold, but she was determined to make the most of her training session with Aemond.
He handed her a wooden sword, taking one for himself, though Donella caught the way he seemed to turn his nose up at the training weapon,
"Where to start?" He asked himself, "This sword is the extension of your arm... You use a sword as you would use an arm or a leg."
Donella decided not to tell him that she knew some of the cliché sayings as she'd been listening to far too many training sessions in her spare time. She let him continue,
"The first thing you need to learn is how to hold your blade."
Donella gripped the hilt with her right hand and seemed to squat a little as she faced him. His eyebrows furrowed as he watched her, "What are you doing?"
"Holding a sword," She responded, frowning that she was clearly doing it wrong.
Wordlessly, Aemond stepped forwards, taking the glorified wooden stick from her,
"Hold your hand out like you're about to take a cup from me," He instructed, and Donella held her hand outwards, palm facing in. He slipped the sword into her hand from this position, pushing down on her key fingers, "The pressure should be on your last three fingers - the middle one down to the little one, good! Good - no, keep the thumb free," He pushed her thumb out so that it was pointing forwards instead, "Good. Better. How does it feel?"
"Odd," Donella admitted, moving her arm and swishing the blunt blade slowly through the air. Move it as though it was one of your limbs, she repeated to herself, It is your arm. It is a part of you.
"That's... Great, Ella."
Donella felt a flush creep up to the apples of her cheeks. She wiggled the fingers on her left hand and held it near the hilt, "Do I need my left hand?"
"Do you want to use a shield?"
"Should I?"
Aemond pondered the question for a moment, "I don't think so. You're not strong - don't look at me like you're offended by that. You are small and fast, not large and strong. A shield is great if you have the strength to block an oncoming blow, but if I was to attack your shield now, you would probably either drop it or break your arm. Being shieldless gives you much less protection, yes, but more speed. We will focus on learning a one-handed and two-handed approach so you have the most flexibility when it comes to... Spars."
Donella nodded eagerly as Aemond took her left hand and positioned it correctly around the hilt alongside her right hand. She proceeded to move the sword again, following the tips which Aemond would share about her posture and positioning of her body. It was only when he brought her over to a training dummy did the adrenaline kick in.
"Hit it," He ordered, and hit it she did.
All of Donella's minimal training was lost at that moment. She gripped the blade tightly between her two hands and leant forwards as she slashed and stabbed at the straw-filled burlap sack. Aemond rubbed his hand down his face,
"What in the world are you doing, Ella?"
"I'm hitting it!" She retorted, breathing laboured,
"You are swiping at it like you are batting away a fly," Aemond sucked in a deep breath. This was going to be harder than he thought it would be. "There are eight different ways to swing your sword. We are going to study each one until they are as natural to you as breathing."
And so they did until the sun was flirting with the horizon. Donella practised moving her blade upwards, downwards, from left to right and from right to left (as well as diagonally from four different angles). By the time Aemond collected the sword and returned it to the weapon rack, Donella was bent over her knees collecting her breath. Aemond didn't know what to say to her,
"Thank you," She said, wiping away the wet hair which had fallen onto her sweaty forehead, "You taught me more in one night than I would have learnt by myself in a lifetime."
Aemond knew that they had to move. If they were caught training there would be so many questions for him - and her. Ever since Donella had blurted that she wanted to kill Daemon he knew that he had to help her. Not with killing Daemon - no, that was something he wanted for himself. But he needed to help her feel powerful. Far too long of his own life was spent wishing for the Gods to finally begin to care for him. He spent nights praying to the Seven that he would hatch a Dragon - that he would finally grow taller - that he would improve his swordplay. The Seven did not help him; he had to help himself.
Donella was a handmaiden to the Princess. She was unable to help herself. If he had to play the role of the Gods to ensure that she didn't feel weak - that she didn't feel inferior to those around her, then he would play his role dutifully.
