WHO : VAEGON & ELIA ( @trcshcans)
WHERE : KINGS LANDING ( somewhere don't ask eden )
There had been wedding presents and there would be this wedding present. Broken blades had been deposited to an armorer on the street of steel, the best one could find in the quality of the product produced and Elia had watched life begin. Death occurred first, molten metal refined and then melted again and then refined once more. multiple deaths until the blades they had come from were a distant memory and the solid material was a single soul fired through many instances to bring it back to its purest of forms, its most malleable state. Elia nearly felt like a mother watching the weapon born from such a place of creation. Gods could suppose this would be the closest she would come to something born of her own - a knife of unparalleled quality from out of the coal fire of the forge from her old bones. A dragon would have to the martell women at his side, in front of him and protecting him from the back. A sister would give life to his family line and this her elder sister would see that his hand would always have a knife to protect that line where dragonfire couldn't go. This was the love of a Martell woman, it covered all things.
Finally it had passed its finally stress tests, the blade a quality just short of her own valyrian steel dagger even if over time it would dull in like the one that had sliced her hand. It had no name yet. Any blade worth the blood it would spill and the lives it would save deserved a name. Vaegon would name this - his good sister's wedding gift to him. Folded into fine fabric the dragon handle, a hilt crafted too to resemble descriptions of his dragon the knife would have not other owner but the man it was made for. He'd have Bella's heart but Elia's blade. "Prince Vaegon, good brother of mine may I have a word" She speaks not asking if she could talk and the glance spared to his guard was a clear indication that if they wished to try her they would find parts of themselves missing. If Vaegon was safe with anyone it was the lady of fangs, the shadow of the speared sun - his good sister Elia. He was no Lannister man either so by all estimations one of the finer men she had known in her life who had no reason to fear a blade pressed to their neck. No. Elia had come to deliver one to him. "A gift"