Blade Of Lies - Aemond Targaryen

Chapter 6

“I promise I'll go easy on you.” Brea said with a small grin, her fists up and her hair tied back.
Prince Qyle beamed at her, preparing to spar with the Northern girl.
He wondered if all girls in the North were like her - beautiful and strong and wild - but doubted it. Brea Snow was singular.
That surely had to be why Prince Aemond had taken her as a prisoner rather than killing her where she stood.
Or perhaps he believed his uncle and half sister had sent her. Perhaps he believed he'd be able to get some information from her.
Qyle doubted there was any information there.
Brea had seen an opportunity and she'd taken it. It was something he admired.
The girl lunged with a speed and strength that he wasn't expecting. He ducked beneath a blow, moving to strike her in the gut. But she was fast. She dropped and swept his legs out from under him, landing him on his back.
With a grin, she jumped on top of him and pinned him down.
Qyle stared up at her dreamily.
“You have a lot to learn, my Prince.” She whispered, her voice smooth like fine wine.
“Mayhaps you can teach me.”
She bit down a smile. “Mayhaps.”
The doors opened and Qyle turned his head to see his sister and the Targaryen enter. He scoffed.
The idea of it was ridiculous. Of her marrying him. Of her becoming one of them. They'd been enemies! How could that change so quickly?
Aemond stopped, looking over the scene.
Brea was on top of Prince Qyle, her eyes bright in a way they hadn't been since she'd been captured. And he looked as if he was enjoying it all too much.
“Prince Aemond,” She said, still not making a move to get off of Qyle. “You managed to beat me. Would you consider helping Prince Qyle train?”
“No.”
She snorted, finally standing up and dusting herself off.
“Would you help me train?”
“For what? The gallows?”
Her grin widened still. “Call it a dead girl's last request.”
Ashara smiled, tapping him on the shoulder and for some reason a twinge of something akin to bitterness shot through Brea's chest. “Perhaps you should, my Prince. Beating her again couldn't hurt, could it?”
He seemed to lift his chin a little at that, and slowly made his way over. Qyle went over to his sister and she ushered him away. She didn't seem particularly bothered by the outcome of the fight, but she did seem rather invested in getting both Aemond and Brea alone in rooms together.
“You look well.” He commented. “The two of you seem close.”
“You really are jealous, you know? I'm still your prisoner, fear not.”
He huffed and Brea wasted no time in lunging at him.
Both of them dodged blow after blow from the other before she landed her first punch across his jaw. Aemond grabbed her arm, twisting it behind her back and the girl screamed before elbowing him in the stomach and freeing herself.
They kept exchanging attacks, both increasing in the need to win as the fight progressed, until finally Aemond slammed her against the wall and restrained her arms.
She thrashed for a moment, glaring up at him with furious eyes, and Aemond watched her without moving.
Their faces were inches apart, her chest pressing against his with every deep shaky breath she took.
“I'd kick your ass if we had swords.” She whispered.
“You didn't last time.”
“You cheated.”
“I won.”
“Asshole.” She seethed.
His grip on her tightened and she hissed in pain but made no other acknowledgement.
He was handsome, she had to admit. Even now. Even when he had her pushed up against a wall.
Perhaps especially now.
With a devious glimmer in her eyes, she leaned up and kissed him.
With a shocked start, he let go of her. And that gave her the opportunity to flip their positions, slamming him against the wall instead.
Her arm pressed against his throat and his eye widened with anger.
“I won.” She said.
“You cheated.”
“I won.”
It had been a ploy and it'd worked. She'd wanted to distract him, and he'd been distracted.
But her eyes strayed back to his lips and she found herself disappointed. Disappointed that he hadn't kissed her back. Disappointed that it hadn't lasted a little longer. Disappointed that she couldn't kiss him again.
“When you go back to your palace, perhaps you should think about how you were bested by one of the smallfolk.”
“Perhaps if you'd not turned to crime you could've been a knight.”
“I doubt it. I'm still a woman.”
An expression she couldn't quite understand flashed across his face so briefly that she barely noticed it. But it had been there. She wondered what it meant.
Slowly, she pulled away from him and her smile returned. “Better luck next time, princeling.”