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Nyla had not slept that night. The sound of the pelting rain and the humidity passing through the small window of her room haunted her.

Aemond's voice echoed in her head like an endless whisper, an exhausting hiss. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his gaze in the darkness — a scowling, cold, distant, wounded gaze. Perhaps she had been too hard on him; after all, he was just a little boy. She was ashamed of herself, of the desire she had felt to take revenge on him.

She felt nauseous and dizzy, shivering from both cold and disgust.

Night was always the worst time for her. During the day she was far too busy to think about anything, perfectly able to uphold the facade of being a mature adult. But when darkness and silence fell, and she was left all alone in her small, shabby room, her fears and anxieties seized control, and she became an utterly helpless child once again.

She squirmed in her small bed, yearning for the warmth that only the comforting touch of a gentle hand could give. She had never felt her father's caress, and she did not remember her mother's, but she could still feel on her skin the void left by her sister's calming touch, like an invisible scar.

"Arlis, Arlis..." she usually found solace in saying that name, perhaps due to some form of muscle memory. The act of opening her mouth and moving her tongue in the familiar manner she had done countless times before was comforting and familiar. However, this time, uttering her sister's name only intensified her sense of loneliness.

She got up and walked to the small closet in the dark corner of the room, eagerly rummaging through the clothes like a hungry dog searching for food. Finally, she found some of her sister's old clothes and brought them next to the bed, curling up in them, seeking comfort in the familiar scent of Arlis that still lingered on the flaps.

In front of her stood an old metal tray, which she usually used as a mirror. Staring at her own distorted reflection cast by the moonlight on the tray, she realised how ugly she looked. Her pale skin looked sickly, her black hair was shaggy and scattered everywhere, her face appeared hollow and tired, and her scrawny body was contorted into an unnatural and pathetic pose.

She remained still, gazing at her reflection, wondering how much uglier she could get. Her face began to wet with tears, her throat went dry, her head was throbbing with pain. The sound of suppressed sobs merged with the pattering of rain. Eventually, she let her conscience be swallowed into numbness, and finally found rest.

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When she woke up the next morning, her head was still throbbing, and she felt dizziness engulfing her. Despite the pain, she was resolute to solve things with Aemond. She washed her face, wore one of her grey dresses, and tried to fix her hair into a braid. She was now presentable, despite the weariness and tiredness evident on her face.

When she opened the door, it took her a few seconds to realise the scene before her eyes. Aemond was standing in front of her door, anticipation evident on his face.

Nyla bowed and greeted him in a detached, polite voice. Despite her desire for their relationship to return to the previous friendliness, she couldn't help but feel uncomfortable in his presence.

His reaction, though, was far beyond her expectations. Not only was he apologising to her, but he was also bowing. Aemond Targaryen, the one-eyed prince, the rider of Vaghar, was now bowing before her, asking for forgiveness. Such an entitled, proud, arrogant prince was doing such things for her, because of her. For a moment, Nyla felt a thrill of satisfaction streaking her, but that exciting feeling was soon overshadowed by the fear that other servants may also behold such a scene.

She urged him to stand, and he complied with her request with an alluring smirk on his face. Then he proceeded to reach for something in his pocket: a beautiful book with a rich black cover, shining under the sunbeams filtering through the windows.

"It's a gift for you. I thought you might enjoy it." Upon hearing those words, Nyla was very confused. There was no way he would give such a precious object to a mere maid like her. That was the kind of luxury she could not afford even after a life of relentless work. However, as his insistence persisted, she timidly took the book in her hands. Right then and there, she was struck by a weird feeling, a sort of warmth spreading in her chest like melted metal, filling her up and closing the crevices of her heart.

That was the first gift she had received in a long time, and most importantly, the first book she could say belonged to her. She eagerly ran through the pages: engaging illustrations accompanied each chapter, and each page featured gold decorations. That was the most beautiful book she had ever seen.

She felt her cheeks getting warmer, and an unfamiliar shyness took possession of her. She struggled to sustain Aemond's gaze. The light of the sun was shining down on him, making his candid, silky locks shimmer. At that moment, Nyla became aware of the charm, ethereality, and radiance of the boy standing before her. He was the brightest thing ever. He was a god in human form.

And yet, that god was treating her, a dark little thing, with such kindness, such softness, that she had struggled to find in other human beings. Aemond was providing her with the warmth she was so desperate to feel again.

"Thank you, truly." She meant those words with every bone, muscle, and cell of her body.

━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━

Knock, knock, knock, knock.

Aemond got up and opened the door for Nyla, welcoming her with a smile. She also smiled back, in her soft, lovely way. They had seen each other that morning, but Aemond already missed her.

"You called me, Aemond. What can I do for you?"

Aemond stepped closer to her and stretched his arm to close the door behind her. "Can you wash my hair?" he asked, his voice dripping with affection.

Seeing her nodding with her small head, Aemond gulped. Oh, she was so adorable.

He entered the bathtub, while Nyla got on her knees behind him and started pouring water on his long beautiful hair. The sultry air was filled with the strong smell of thyme and salts; and steam was slowly ascending from the porcelain bathtub. The only sounds were the ticking of water and the brushing of Nyla's hands through his hair. In that a quiet, safe room, Aemond felt completely at ease.

"Is it very hard? Your work I mean," Aemond was genuinely concerned about her working conditions, especially because of how thin and tired she always looked.

"Not really. Maybe when I started it was a bit hard, but now I'm used to it," Nyla paused for a moment. "Actually, I enjoy working for you."

"Really?" Aemond was so happy to hear those words that he didn't know what to say. "For a long time I thought I made you uncomfortable..."

Nyla, who was washing his hair attentively, suddenly stopped. "Oh...it's not like that. Maybe at the beginning I misjudged you...I was afraid you would be similar to your brother..."

Aemond immediately turned his head to look at her. "You have served my brother??"
Did that bastard touch her? The thought made Aemond's stomach contort in jealousy.

Nyla shook her head. "No I haven't," she lowered her gaze in silence. "I've...heard rumours."

Aemond felt like she was hiding something from him, but chose to ignore that feeling.

"I see...I guess the rumours were true. He can be quite the cunt." Aemond didn't like his brother, not as a person at least, but he loved him as a part of his family. He would have fought for him, and if it came down to that, even died for him.

Silence followed for a few seconds. It wasn't the awkward kind of silence though; they were perfectly comfortable with each other's presence.

Aemond relished in the soft touch of Nyla's fingers on his scalp. Her hands slowly descended, delicately stroking his neck, sending shivers to his whole body. He wished for her hands to slide down, to caress the white skin of his naked torso. But he knew she would never do anything of the sort.

He looked up, and his gaze fixed on her cracked reddened lips. He wanted to peel off the dead skin with his teeth, and bite the soft flesh underneath, to bite it until it bled, and then attentively lick the blood with his tongue. He wanted to insert his tongue inside her mouth, licking and tasting her teeth, slowly pressing it against the walls of her mouth, exploring them in a pulsing motion, and then meet her tongue, interwin it with his own, feel the contractions of its muscles, the heat and wetness of that enclosed, dark place. He felt saliva fill his mouth, gulped slowly, and met her penetrant gaze. Oh, how tremendously he longed to kiss her.

Nyla smiled at him. "The washing is done, let me help you dry them."

Aemond nodded and got out of the bathtub, slowly walking to his bedroom and sitting in front of the lit fire. Nyla brought a soft towel and carefully drained his candid hair.

"It's so beautiful, your hair. Have you ever thought of braiding them?" Nyla asked, almost in a whisper.

Both the compliment and the hummed voice close to his ears made Aemond blush hard; he felt glad she was behind him, unable to see his face. "I've never braided them before. Would you try for me?"

"Of course," she chuckled sweetly, and proceeded to braid a part of his hair in her usual caring soft manner. She indeed possessed a certain gentleness in her ways, such gentleness made him feel loved, it eased all of his unsightly, violent, cruel sides, turning that rage into an unknown ardour.

Aemond realised in that moment that he was undoubtedly, irrevocably, fervently in love with her.

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Author's note:

Hi guys! Thank you for reading this chapter, I hope you liked it <3
We've come to the end of the first act, so be ready for the second, there will be a time skip!!
I want to thank you for all your support and comments, your feedback really means a lot 🤍🤍

Q/: Do you think Nyla is hiding something?

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ପ(˶•-•˶)ଓ  luv u ♡
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ps: merry christmas!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻