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The Red keep had changed. Green flags were hung on the walls; seven pointed stars were everywhere. Since princess Rhaenyra left the capital the environment had changed drastically: now it was somehow stern, somehow cold. Nyla remembered her sister smiling, hopping around the castle when it was just the two of them in those empty corridors. Her sister was so beautiful, so joyful. Back then those hallways seemed magical: a labyrinth of intricate tunnels for two sheer unnoticed souls, aisles filled with a thick warm air, candles and mysteries. Her childhood had felt like a dream engulfed in a white warm light. Her brother caressing her hair, her sister giggling and talking until sunrise: that was her everything.

Now it was just her, and the empty cold corridors were just empty cold corridors.

That night she was heading from her room to the chamber of her master, Aemond Targaryen. He had requested her presence in the middle of the night: she knew something bad had happened.

She had been his servant for almost two years now. She didn't particularly like him nor dislike him. He had always been decent to her, not good but decent enough. The castle was filled with rumours about him: some called him a monster or worse, some said he was just a cruel spoiled cunt; others praised him as a brilliant swordsman, an intelligent promising young man with occasional violent tendencies that were justified by his young age and - according to some - such tendencies were most eligible in a prince.

After serving him for two years she had drawn her conclusions about him: he was a strong, proud, spoiled but hard working young man, slightly obsessed with perfection and somehow cruel, smart but not as smart as he considered himself to be.

She had learned how to not get on his nerves, when to stay silent and look down, when to obey and bow, how to move in his chambers with light steps to avoid distracting him from his studies, living as a shadow in his presence. And of course she had learned what pleased him: she knew by heart what kind of tea and scents he preferred, his favourite books and clothes, what kind of medicine was best for his headaches, what kind of weather he liked, even his favourite knife. She knew it all.
He had become her obsession in a certain way, or maybe she was just trying to survive.
With a Targaryen you can never be safe enough, she was well aware of that.

Nyla gently knocked on his door four times, to let him know it was her.

"Come in." He answered from inside. His voice was somehow rough.

Nyla pushed the heavy door and entered the room.
He was standing with his back facing her, looking outside of the window. He was very tall, definitely taller than a five-and-ten years old should have been, taller than her, even though Nyla was three years older than him. Such a tall body and a wide back, and yet for some reason now he seemed so small, almost vulnerable.

"You've called me my prince. What can I help you with?" Nyla said while lowering her gaze, she felt like he didn't want to be looked at.

"Prepare me a bath." He said softly but assertively.

Nyla nodded and immediately started doing as she was told. She poured hot water in the tub and mixed it with sea salts and lemon scented oils.

He had removed his blouse and came closer to the bathtub. She looked at his body: it was muscular, too muscular for a boy of his age, it was the body of a boy ready for war. Looking at his body always gave her a bittersweet feeling; it reminded her of her brother: her strong, brave, stupid brother.

She still remembered vividly his candid eyes, as light and blue as the breeze of a midwinter dawn, as soft as mellow caramel. Such softness clashed with his straight nose and his thin pale lips. Everytime she looked at Aemond, she couldn't help but find solace in such a faint resemblance, even though his gaze couldn't be furthest from the tenderness of her brother's.

But this time something else caught her attention: Aemond's torso was bruised, not from the type of bruises he would get from a sparring session. It looked as if someone had scratched him with their fingernails. His wrists were also marked, as if they had been tightly tied by a string. Her gaze went up slowly from his hands, then she paused on the neck: it was full of what seemed to be hickeys. She gulped. Then she looked at his swollen and reddened lips. When her eyes locked with his one sorrowful eye she realised what had happened to him.

She felt her chest tingle in discomfort, but her impenetrable black eyes remained unmoved. He averted his gaze.

Did Aegon do all of that? Could he really had gone to the extent of raping his own little brother? It wouldn't have surprised her, but if they had left the Red Keep the odds were he hadn't done it himself, after all he was famous for his rendezvous in the capital's brothels. He probably had forced Aemond to take part in one of his depravities.

Aemond didn't say anything, and neither did Nyla. He simply entered the bathtub and asked her to wash his hair for him.

"You don't mind my touch, your grace?" She didn't want to make him further uncomfortable: even if she tried not to, deep down she pitied him.

"I don't mind. Just do your job, I'm tired." He closed his eye and breathed out. He seemed bothered.

She gently removed his eyepatch , and started by brushing his silky pearly hair, as slowly and silently as possible. She was very attentive to not touching him more than necessary, despite his slight movement, to avoid making him further uncomfortable. She poured warm water on his hair, washed it accurately, and poured oils on the ends, then washed them again. After that she stood up. She knew she was supposed to only wash his hair: washing his body would have been inappropriate.

"Stay here while I wash." He ordered without looking at her. It was a rather uncommon request, normally she would have refused, but then again, he was only a boy that had just been through something terrible.
She could feel the uneasiness and loneliness in his voice.

"Yes, my prince" Nyla nodded and turned her back on him, to give him some privacy. She stood there, in the corner of the room, with her body and gaze facing the sturdy marble wall. The sound of water on his skin resonated in the quietness of the sultry night.

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Author note:

Hi guys ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

Thank you for reading this first chapter, I hope you liked it! Next one will be Aemond's pov.

I'm sorry for eventual mistakes, but English is not my first language, so please feel free to correct me if you find a mistake or if you have any suggestion to improve my grammar or writing style!

Q: What do you think about Nyla?

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ପ (˶•-•˶) ଓ ♡
/づ づ  [thank u for reading!]