» 10/1/2020 - ivar x targaryen oc «
In the great City of Pentos, inside of the Magister's extravagant mansion, there was a young princess. Her hair, silver and silky, tumbling down her slim back in loose strands and untangled braids. She barely re...
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The tips ofVisenya's ears ached with heatstroke – or at least it felt like heatstroke – by the time she reached the empty party-hall of the Magisters mansion. The day was scorching and Visenya was at least grateful she had been able to scamper throughout the warm sandy hallways of the mansion rather than struggling to avoid her older brother through exhausting gusts of hot air from open windows. Her bare feet scratched against the rough floors, but the race through these vast hallways warmed her flame born blood.
This morning had brought forth the first day of her sword training, thus why she had been dressed in light garbs rather than a dress. A retired warrior from Qohor, one of the nine Free Cities, a place that worshipped the Black Goat who demanded daily blood sacrifices. The city lied on the river Qhoyne, between the city's forest and vast plains of the Dothraki Sea...
Her mind instantly went to her brother and sister. To Daenerys. Her little dragon. It had been over two weeks since both of her siblings had left with Khal Drogo's brood. She couldn't imagine what married life with such a culture could be like. Visenya vividly remembered the wedding day with such an... open community. Fear struck at her. Did Khal Drogo make her dear, sweet sister bend over in the muck like those women on her wedding day, in front of everyone?
"You are late."
Visenya could have literally jumped out of her skin. She spun around to face a man. His skin was bronze, a tad scuffed with age, but he was evidently healthy, lean with muscle. This man was only half a head taller than her, but his thick, black curls streaked grey with age made him seem taller.
"Pardon me, ser," Visenya apologised, a hand over her heart. "Are you...?"
He bowed his head respectfully. "Memna, my lady." His accent was rich, but she could still hear him clearly. Years of living in Essos had honed her skills of listening. "I am the one who had been assigned to train you in sword work."
Visenya then watched as Memna strode over to the left side of the hall where a simple wrack stood, holding two wooden sticks carved to look like swords. He threw her one, which she caught clumsily. It had practically slipped through her hands if it weren't for the hook of her pinkie catching onto the hilt.
Memna regarded her with faint amusement, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "It seems you will not be too hard to teach, then. Tomorrow, you will catch it swiftly and without too much effort. Hold it properly, it is not a greatsword where you need two of your hands."
She shifted to using one hand, and her wrist already ached because of it. "It's quite heavy."
"Then it will make you strong, child." Memna moved closer, reaching to adjust the way she held it. Visenya felt goosebumps rise along her arms when one of his hands pressed against her back to move her posture. "One hand is all that is needed, princess. Now, here. You are standing all right, now."
