Stelsa, the girl crafted from the broken leftovers from the Gods, is far from the expectations of a normal lady. Her father, Aaeron Meryls, and her uncles sought to train her in the way of the blade. Many whisper about her origin - is she bastard li...
"For the Queen had a tongue of poison, one she could use to whisper INTO THE EARS OF THE COUNCILMEN."
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THE SOUND OF BLADES CLASHING against one another echoed through the air. In the rapidly dimming light of the sun, Aemond's platinum hair swooshed through the air as he leapt side to side. Sweat had begun to build up beneath Aemond's tunic — the simmering heats making his blood boil beneath his skin. It had not been a hot day in Kings Landing. With the sun going down, Aemond should feel the opposite of how he felt right now. That was not the case.
Aemond could feel his blood boiling. He could feel the flames licking at his own heart. What would sound like blade clashing against one another was not the case for Aemond. That sound resembled chains being tugged upon. The chained dragon that lingered in his heart coated the whole area around him in flames. There would be no escape for this man. The chained dragon would ensure that. With every flame it bore, Aemond's skin became hotter and hotter. It had been quite some time since the duel had begun, and neither seemed to be relenting. Despite the arena being covered in flames, the knight before the dragon continued to slash at its scalding scales. It served to anger the dragon more the closer it grew to its treasure.
No.
Aemond swung his blade up, blocking a heavy hit from Aaeron. He sent his leg forward, kicking Aaeron away from him. Aemond could barely see Aaeron's blade. It was merely a blur. One that Aemond's eye could not seem to focus on. Aemond would never admit it aloud, but he was merely guessing based on where Aaeron's own eyes moved. If he could not see his blade, he could see his eyes. Wherever Aaeron's eyes went, his blade followed.
So that is where Aemond went. His lungs began to squeeze, filled with the fire and smoke that was being produced by the dragon in his heart. It was difficult to breathe. But Aaeron was not letting up. Aemond would not let up either. Not with what was at risk. Not when it would cost him her. One of them would lose her at the end of this.
Aemond refused to let it be him.
He could not hear anything over the sound of his dragon. He was unsure if it was Vhagar or the chained dragon. There was not a moment for him to distinguish between the two. Aemond barely dodged Aaeron's last swing. He barely managed to block his next hit. Aemond knew it.
Aaeron knew it. The father could barely focus on the boy's one eye. It seemed to move quicker than his own hand. Aaeron did not know his plan. What was his plan? Aaeron released a huff of air, finding his chest tightening with every swing. For a moment, he was not in this training yard. He was surrounded by darkness. Surrounded by enemies. Surrounded by death, fire, and smoke. His blade was bloodied. His armor was permanently stained. Aaeron just swung.
It was all he could do with that many blades hurling at him.
But Aaeron was not on that beach. He was not surrounded by death. He was doing something far more foolish. He was fighting a dragon. One that dared to cover him in flames. Reduce him to nothing but ash. Aaeron was a fool but he would not admit that aloud. Not with what was at risk. His daughter. His daughter who knew nothing of this duel. Whose future was being decided by one fight. Had he asked her? Had she asked him? Was this duel for her hand a death sentence for his daughter?
