𝖘𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖑𝖊𝖙 𝖉𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒𝖘, 𝐡. 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧¹·⁵

𝟎𝟎𝟔. DEFIANCE

⊱✮⊰ 

         ALIANDRA WATCHED Aemond with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows. He was training in the courtyard, his movements quick and sloppy, much to Aliandra's confusion. She had heard many stories regarding Aemond's skill with the sword, but as she watched him train, she couldn't help but wonder if those stories, too, were heavily exaggerated...

      Along the wall stood the other ladies, all of whom watched Aemond with distasteful gazes. Well, all except Olira. Unlike Cassandra and Evelyne, Olira Redwyne was smitten. 

       Her cheeks were dusted pink as she watched the prince, her blue eyes trailing his figure as he furiously hounded his opponent with driven, sloppy attacks. "He is a skilled warrior," Olira said softly, her eyes shifting to Cassandra, who peered down her nose at the younger girl, her gaze sharp and disapproving, but she did not get the chance to criticize Olira.

      All eyes shifted to Aliandra when she snorted, unable to contain the sound. Cassandra quirked a brow as she gave the princess a scathing once-over. "You disagree, my Lady?"

       Aliandra rolled her eyes. Cassandra had taken to addressing Aliandra with an improper title when in private, as if something as trivial as two words would get under her skin. The princess sighed as she stepped closer to the girls, her finger dragging along the stone railing. "Indeed," she murmured with a wide smile. "He is angry. He is allowing his emotions to control him. Just look at him."

       Her gaze shifted to Aemond as he was thrown on his back by Ser Criston Cole, who narrowly avoided caving in the prince's face with his mace. "I expected better from the Prince."

       Olira took personal offense to Aliandra's insults. Her face grew a deep red as she curled her fists at her sides and scoffed. "What do you know about fighting?" she snapped, her eyes darkening as she took a threatening step forward. "Prince Aemond is a skilled warrior."

      "What do I know about fighting?" Aliandra's wicked smirk grew with each stomping step the young Olira took in her direction. "What do you ladies know about fighting? I have wielded a spear since the day I could walk. My father trained me in the arena just as he trained my brother."

       Cassandra and Evelyne exchanged a glance, but Olira didn't seem deterred by Aliandra's revelation. "A woman wielding a spear?" she laughed, the sound rather pathetic. Olira was a girl of five and ten. She was two, almost three, years younger than Aliandra and had surely spent her entire life sewing and painting and learning the names of all the Lords and Ladies in the Seven Kingdoms. Aliandra, too, was skilled in feminine arts, and quiet enjoyed them on certain days, but she was a warrior at heart. Olira's petty insults bounced off Aliandra's akin the way arrows bounced off shields. "A woman can not fight like a man. It is unnatural."

       Aliandra tossed her head back and laughed, the sound low and cold. Her long hair brushed along her exposed back as she shook her head. "No?" she mused as she met Olira's gaze again. "Watch me."