For almost her entire life, Daella Targaryen has lived as Mellara Rivers, the bastard daughter of Arnold Arryn and cupbearer of Lady Jeyne Arryn. First and trueborn daughter of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, Daella had but slight contact with her fami...
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All the secrets And no one to tell ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Letting out a grunt, Daella parried the blow ser Elseham dealt and stepped to the side at the same time, exposing his unprotected side. Hastily grabbing one of the knives from her belt, she was just about to hold it to ser Elseham's ribs in victory, when she felt her feet being kicked from underneath her. With a loud thud, Daella landed on the dusty ground of the training yard, the wind momentarily knocked from her body. Opening her eyes and gasping for air, she stared straight into the edge of the blunt sword ser Elseham had pointed at her throat.
"Oh, Seven Hells," she muttered, laying her head back down in defeat. Her chest heaving, Daella stared into the blue eyes of the Eyrie's Master-at-arms. "You've once again won a victory over me, ser Elseham."
"You are a tough opponent, Mellara," ser Elseham said, sheathing his sword and offering her a hand.
She grabbed it gratefully, and allowed herself to be hoisted back onto her feet with ease. "Undoubtedly," she mumbled, earning her a boyish grin from the man across from her. Ser Elseham was only a couple of years her elder, but had served faithfully as a knight of the Vale during some uprisings of the hill tribes, earning him the position of Master-at-arms. Planting her feet firmly on the ground and turning her body to the side, she accepted the sword ser Elseham offered her. "Again."
"Do you not think it is enough training for one day?" ser Elseham suggested hesitantly. He shook his head, his thick brown curls moving along. "We have been practising since daybreak, and it is almost time for midday supper."
Daella lowered the sword ever so slightly, pretending to give in to ser Elseham's offer, until the last possible moment she took a step forward and slashed the blade at his side. It hit his leather tunic with a dull thud, the metal not sharp enough to do any damage other than a mean bruise. She looked up at ser Elseham, smiling triumphantly as she noticed the grip on his sword tightening. Daella took a quick step back and not a second too early, for a moment later, ser Elseham's sword flashed right in front of her eyes.
Leaning back, she met the steel of his sword in the air and knowing she would never possess the strength to parry the blow from this angle, Daella relaxed her arm and sidestepped. Ser Elseham stumbled slightly from the sudden loss of counterpressure and she took the opportunity to kick at his feet. Hooking their ankles together, ser Elseham made sure he was not the only one going down and Daella let out another grunt as she felt her sore body hit the rocky ground of the yard.
Not allowing the pain to paralyse her like it had been doing the entire morning, she quickly rolled on her side, her hand going for the knife by her hip as she tried to find her footing. Daella knew that ser Elseham was purposefully slow with coming to his feet, but still, she felt a sense of triumph when she was the one leaning over him, blade at his throat in victory.
