The Lady of Asshai •Aemond Targaryen•

6. THE USURPER

    "You're a dead girl walking. I hope you know that."

"Thank you, Jace. Ever the reassuring bringer of good fortune."

Brass hadn't meant to snap back at him quite so meanly, but by the look of unfazed amusement on his face her words really hadn't bothered him all that much. It had been some time since he had last been able to tease his mother's ward, he was now relishing in the opportunity. Targaryen's really did have a warped sense of humour. Despite the time and distance she really shouldn't have forgotten. It was one of the only consistent traits found in each member of both factions. Green and Black alike.

"Don't shoot the messenger, Brassy." Jace nudged her shoulder with his. A laugh was hiding just behind his lips. The tweaking of his lips being the giveaway which alerted her to it's presence.

"Quit laughing and don't call me Brassy, or I swear to all the Gods, once Daemon is done killing me I'm going to come back and haunt you." She gave him a playful shove that was just hard enough to make him question for a second if it was genuine or not.

He quickly thought better of it. She always had been a good sport. "I'm not laughing! Who ever said I was laughing?"

She gave him a sidelong glance. "You don't need to make a sound. I can see it in your face, Jacaerys Velaryon."

Not even the distant cries of Kirine as she circled the keep were enough to calm Brass' nerves. The old girl was never too far from her keeper. Her roars and grumblings had become a comforting thing to Brass in their years together. But now, here, with Daemon only a little ways away she was shitting herself.

She feared very little in life. Not beast, not darkness, not even death. But Daemon Targaryen...that man was a force of nature. A hurricane contained in the form of a man. A man who she knew was about to unleash a storm upon her. He waited for her in the main hall. Guards had greeted her at the gates of the keep to escort her directly to him and somewhere along the way Jace had joined the entourage.

"I won't leave you alone."

He said it quietly so the guards would have a hard time hearing it, but she did. The kind boy. Her sweet boy. He was good. Each night in her prayers she asked for him -and Luke- to stay that way. Men could be monstrous. In each and every corner of the world beastly men lurked and prowled. They hurt the people around them. Their wives, their children, strangers. Power was a poison. A taste of it was the ruin of too many. It would break her heart if her boys ever became that. She wanted so badly for them to stay good boys, so they could go on to be good men. Good leaders. Good husbands. Good fathers.

"Thank you."

• • •

"I understand." Brass said not meeting Daemon's penetrating glare.

He had been practically chewing her face off for the past hour.

"Really?" He exclaimed, sarcasm mingling with that renowned temper. "Because it looks to me like you haven't the slightest clue what sort of trouble you nearly got yourself into."

Brass' weight suddenly felt very heavy upon the soles of her feet. Maybe it was all the dancing, or perhaps it could have been the adrenaline of the evening's excitement wearing off, but she could feel a newfound weightiness make her want to sink down into the floor. Jace was stationed by the door. He was leaning against the frame and wincing at the cutting tone in Daemon's voice. He had kept his promise. Brass was surprised at Daemon allowing him to stay. Perhaps he had wanted him to see his verbal takedown of her. He had always believed in a healthy degree of fear between a child and the parent. Although, Daemon's idea of a "healthy degree of fear" was undeniably different from that of the average person.