The Sapphire Dragon

The One-Eyed Prince

Chapter 1

She listened from her place behind the door. Her brother was talking with a cloaked figure, both of their voices hushed. The exchange was odd to Rheya- her brother never did business at night. He refused to work the long hours he often forced her to, saying he was growing wan with age. But there he was, whispering to a hooded man, handing him a blade. It was one of two identical blades she had made a few weeks prior. The other has been purchased by somebody in the castle, but she did not know who. She was not privy to the dealings of her brother, her only role was to make the swords and daggers that he then took the credit for. Her father had taught her to smith before he died. He had been one of the kings favoured blacksmiths, and upon his passing his business had fallen to her useless wretch of a brother.

Her attention fell once again to the figure as he took the blade, turning it this way and that, examining the craftsmanship. It was perfect, she knew that. She had made it herself. Nodding, the man sheathed the blade at his hip, extracting a cloth pouch from his cloak in exchange. A heavy sum for such a small blade. Rheya tucked away the information.

"When the bells ring, it'll be over." That was the only time she truly heard the clocked mans voice. It was rough, unpleasantly wicked. Her brothers laugh followed. It was a harsh, jarring sound. He often laughed like that when he came back from the inn. When he beat her. When he cut her with the blades she had made.

The figure left the shop soon after the ordeal. Rheya hurried to bed so as not to be caught by her brother, eventually falling into a fitful sleep, her mind trapped on the image of the hooded man.

No bells rang the next morning, and the fact seemed to anger her brother. He paced the shop wildly, fingers tugging at his hair. Rheya ignored him as much as she could, instead focusing on the heat of the hearth and the blade that she was hammering.

"Useless fool!" He brother screeched, tossing a mallet hard at the coals. It disappeared amongst the flames with a hiss, and Rheya glanced at him from the corner of her eye.

"What are you looking at?" He whirled on her. "Stupid bitch." He spat, before turning and striding from the shop in a hurry. Rheya knew he was likely going to get drunk at some inn. She closed her eyes, dreading what she knew would come after.

"Rheya!" Her brothers voice tore through the shop, and she steeled herself where she was stood by the dying furnace.

"How many times have I told you-" he started, but when his gaze skittered across the room and he found nothing amiss, he fell short. Rheya had done anything in her power to sate his anger. She had seen it in his eyes before he left. There was something vicious there.

Rheya turned to him slowly as he shut the door, beginning to roll up his sleeves. It seemed that it would not be enough. Hollis was spitting mad this night, and she would be the one to pay the price.

He approached her slowly, a snarl on his face.

Just as he neared her, the door to the shop swung open, practically tearing off its hinges. Hollis fell to the ground with a cry, the door having hit him hard in the back. Rheya saw the looming figures and didn't hesitate, grabbing the freshly forged blade from the cooling barrel and holding it before her as three great hulking knights skulked inside. Behind them, came a cloaked man. Rheya knew instantly that this wasn't the same man she had seen the other night. This man stood taller, stronger. He stood as though the word was his to command. And when he stripped back his hood, Rheya knew why.

The One-eyed prince looked her brother up and down, a cruel smile twisting his lips.

"You." His voice skittered down her spine as he jerked his head toward two of the knights, who hauled for her brother. He stood no chance as they grasped his arms and threw him from the shop, sending him sprawling into the street.

The last guard turned toward Rheya.

"And what of the girl, Your Grace?" He asked, and as though noticing her for the first time, Aemond Targaryen's one good eye fell on her.
His gaze stripped her bare, and she saw as he took her in- her craftsman leathers, her calloused fingers and the gleaming blade in her hands.

"Is he your husband?" He asked, his tone bored.

Rheya took a deep breath as she steadied herself. "My brother. Though I suppose that could be one in the same to you." She didn't know why she said it. It was stupid, callous. But the adrenaline in her veins didn't let her stop.

Aemonds eyes flashed with amusement as he beheld her, and his mouth twisted.

"Do you know how to use that?" He nodded at her blade.

She gave him a vicious smile. "Why don't you come find out?"

Aemond laughed, drawing his sword. Rheya realised it then. He had no qualms with killing her, this poor blacksmiths sister. She took a step back from him, her hips bumping the table. The princes predatory gaze followed her every move. And with a quick step, he lunged. The thrust held no true motive, and she was able to sweep the blade easily aside with her own.

Aemond tutted disapprovingly. "Your stance is shit."

"I didn't have knights coaching me from the moment I no longer suckled on my mother's tit." She growled, giving a swipe of her own.

Aemond stepped aside to avoid it.

"What a filthy mouth you have, little smith. Sir Criston, bring her with us. She will stand as a witness at her brothers trial." He sheathed his sword, clearly bored with her.

"Trial?" She questioned, but the knight was already coming toward her.

"You can't just-" she swiped for him. "You can't just take me away without cause!"

Aemond turned lazily to her, already raising his hood. "I think you'll find, little one, that a prince does as he pleases."

And with that, the knight raised his sword, knocking hers swiftly away before brining the end down onto her temple.