CELTIGAR - House of The Dragon

Essence of Nightshade

"The King is ill, my lady, he has to take to his bed and cannot accompany you on your walk, today", Lord Otto Hightower said, barring Lady Rhea's path as she tried entering the King's chambers.

Lady Rhea's brow furrowed and she shove the Hand aside.

"I'd like to see that for myself, thank you, Lord Hand", she stated loudly as she entered the Royal Chambers, closing the door behind her.

As soon as the doors were closed, she heard the King's Hand open them again, she could see his figure leaning against the frame. He was surely trying to listen in on her conversation. Very well, she would make sure he heard what she had to say.

King Viserys' model of Old Valyria stood ever so proudly in the middle of the room, as a welcoming piece to anyone who might wander there, and the drapes hung from the windows, flowing lightly as a warm breeze made its way inside. Incense burnt and its smell filled the room, poorly covering the smell which was coming from the King himself, which was that of rotting meat and dirty teeth. Lady Rhea tried not to gag as she came closer to the King, which saddened her. Seeing him so fragile, so small broke her heart, yet she felt determined not to show the King it was him who caused her distress.

For months now, the King's disease had spread, stronger than it ever did before, and it caused his Grace such pains he mainly stayed in his bed, drinking Milk of the Poppy to rid himself of all feeling, good or bad. There he was, on his bed, almost hidden under a great pile of covers and pillows, almost so small that Lady Rhea could not see him, and she reminisced back to her childhood years, when she would run inside those chambers and jump on the King's bed as soon as she woke. A sad smile stretched her face as she sat on the edge of the King's bed. He rose his hand to meet hers and gave it the slightest squeeze, his body still weak after the amputation of his other arm.

"My King, I came here today to ask if you would enjoy a walk outside, in the gardens", she started, turning her gaze to him.

The King tried sitting up but only managed to let a few grunts and pained gasps out.

"Might you come back later, sweet child? I am afraid I am in no condition for a walk today", the King had a pained expression painted across his sickly face.

Rhea rose to her feet.

"Yes, your Grace. Has the Hand told you about my daily visits to your bedside? I meant, my attempts to visit you, as he would not let me in", she asked, her back to the King who coughed loudly.

"No, he hasn't."

Rhea rolled her eyes and scoffed.

"Of course not", she uttered. "I suppose he is the one to supply you with your tea, your Grace?"

"He is, the Hand has been of great service to me lately."

Rhea turned to face her adoptive father.

"Right", she straightened her light blue dress. "Well, I shall leave you to it, then, your Grace. You must rest, and I must prepare for my journey back to Craw Isle, my father's nameday is soon coming and I would like to commemorate it by going to his old home."

The King stiffened in his bed and his scrawny hand brushed against his ward's to catch her attention. She turned to face him again, his small, hurt body slowly rising from the bed to stand. He had a look in his eye she had not seen in years, something had motivated him to leave his resting place and walk to the door, shutting it once again, as his Hand was still listening closely.

The King leaned on the closed door, catching his breath, and gestured for his ward to seat next to his construction of Old Valyria, which she did. Each breath he drew grew more and more unsteady and he placed a hand on his forehead, reaching for his tea, but once he brought the cup to his lips, in a moment of clarity, he cast it aside of a small table and sat to face his young ward.