CELTIGAR - House of The Dragon

The Tower of the Hand

The next morning, Rhea was greeted excitedly by her handmaiden Marian, whom she had not seen for over a month. Both women held each other warmly and Marian proceeded to tell her princess all the things she had missed while she was away.

"Marian, do you trust me? Truly, I mean, not simply as a handmaiden is supposed to trust in the woman she cares for?" Rhea asked, her hands on the red-haired woman's forearms.

The red-head lifted her green eyes and scanned the princess' face. Rhea showed no sign of anguish, so sign that anything was afoot. She simply waited for Marian's answer, her gaze serious and regal. She suited the role of princess perfectly, Marian thought. She had an authority about her, one which was undeniable to anyone who spent more than five minutes with her when she was as severe as she appeared now.

"I do, princess."

Rhea dipped her head.

"Good," she replied. "There is something I need you to do."

The princess entrusted her handmaiden and friend with a determining task; should she fail, her whole strategy would too. Just as the girl left, Aemond walked in, bowing his head knowingly towards his wife who was busying herself trying to straighten her necklace, the one Aemond had kept, back on. Once she was done, she adjusted her gown, nodding at him through the mirror she was standing in front of.

"It is time," she enunciated, heading out of the chambers, followed by the prince. He gestured to the men generally following his wife around during the day now that they needn't follow them, as he was with her, ensuring her safety. Both of them walked slowly through the halls of the Red Keep, Rhea's gown gliding on the stone floors as she took light steps, entertaining a normal conversation with her husband so as to not raise suspicions. Soon, they found themselves at the bottom of the stairs leading to the Tower of the Hand. Rhea spotted Marian at the top, leaning against a wall, her thumb raising towards the princess to confirm she had succeeded. The princess acquiesced and glanced at her husband's enraged features. His hand was clasped on his dagger, his fingernails leaving marks on its leather sheath as he waggled his fingers around it, trying to diffuse the emotions inside of him.

"Shall we?" he said, gesturing towards the stairs.

Oddly enough, no talk of a dead body found in the Tower had been heard that day, no guards had been rushed to ensure the Hand's protection.

"He knows we are coming," Rhea whispered, slightly raising her gown so as not to trip on it. "He knows I know, otherwise he would have called upon the King's Guard to cover his own tracks like he always does."

Aemond grunted.

"Hmm, good. I want him to shit his pants when we hears us coming," Aemond calmly stated.

He was so angry his voice and movements didn't even show it any more, he just appeared calm, which was when he was the most dangerous, the most reckless.

"Are you sure you are okay with this, husband?"

Aemond turned to her, stopping in the middle of the stairs, his hands reaching for the small of her back and staying there, his thumbs gently rubbing her sides affectionately.

"The man is a cunt, but he is your blood, Aemond."

"He stopped being my blood the minute he started conspiring to kill you," her husband replied, his jaw clenching and his fingers digging into her skin angrily.

Rhea gently stroke his cheek, a sad smile on her face.

"Still, I do not wish to force you to do something you do not want to," she continued.