When Harlys awoke the following morning, she was alone, save for the mass of handmaidens that swarmed upon her, insistent on starting the process of primping before the wedding was to take place.
For a brief moment, in the time when she was still coming out of her sleep, she thought she had imagined all of it, a sick and twisted dream. Aegon was nothing more than the scum of the Targaryen name and Viserys was still king, his protective ward over her keeping her safe.
But then Corinne began offering her advice on how to make the wedding night easy for the bride.
"Dress me if you must," Harlys snapped, squeezing her eyes shut tight at the thought of what was expected to occur between her and Aemond that evening. "But do so silently."
Part of her felt guilty for being so harsh; Corinne's advice came from a place of genuine concern for her well-being. But she could not stand to hear it, not when this wedding was the last thing she wanted.
Her heart may have ached for young Aemond during the story of his youth he told her in the dark, but she did not have to relinquish her life to him.
What felt like centuries passed of Harlys being scrubbed clean, her hair braided, and face painted in the silence she demanded. The gown she was to be wed in was the richest of Hightower greens, the stars that served as their House sigil fashioned into overwhelmingly large earrings for her to wear. While she had always enjoyed the finery afforded to her by her station, she felt like a fool coated in the colors of a House that did not belong to her.
Her humiliation only increased as the door to Aemond's chambers opened and Otto Hightower strolled in.
"Lady Harlys," Otto spoke, though he did not bow. She could not blame him; the last time she had been in proximity with him, she had been destined for the noose at his order. Suddenly, she wished she had been kinder to the handmaidens, who departed from the room at the first sign of trouble.
At the very least, she wished she had been reunited with Lathar's blade that had been stripped from her side upon her initial arrest.
"Lord Hand," She replied back airly, feigning as if she was not hyper aware of his every movement. Why had she let herself be left alone in Otto Hightower's company? Surely, she had a death wish.
"I have come to congratulate you on your betrothal, and wish you luck in your wedding ceremony." His grin was wicked, and she knew that was far from the reason for his visit. She did not play dumb any longer, her assessing stare watching his every move.
Should he try and get closer to her, he would find out just how resourceful she could be in creating a weapon.
"But I must confess that there is another reason I have found myself before you," Naturally, she thought, as Otto looked around his grandson's chambers boredly. "Prince Aemond, whatever his reasons, has acted to bind himself to you. Due to the public nature of his announcement—" At her execution. "—it is inescapable that this wedding must happen. But do not think me a fool, Lady Harlys. Should you act out in any way, I will ensure that you are held accountable."
Oh, what a fool she truly thought him to be.
"I will have you put down, Harlys, like a dog in the streets, should you threaten the rule of King Aegon."
A shiver went down her spine at the sheer promise in Otto's eyes, but before she could respond, measured footsteps strode into the room.
"She is my betrothed," Aemond spoke, coming to stand beside Harlys' side, lethal and simmering anger sharpening his words into daggers designated to pierce his grandsire. "You have no right to speak to her that way."
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Haven't I Given Enough? (Always The Fool) - Aemond Targaryen
Fanfiction"Careful, Aemond. I might think you care about me." "Be certain that is not the case." His response was quick, and though it was the expected one, she could not help the sting of something unfamiliar that arced through her. "I only caution because I...
