Chapter Text
“We must keep it a secret.”
Clack.
Clack.
Clack.
“Here, drink this.”
Nyssa Snow trekked her way down the halls of King’s Landing. Her hasty reassignment brought her to a part of the castle she had scarcely seen since her arrival almost a half year ago. Now her presence in these corridors was normal and welcome. Much quieter over here, there weren't many bustling lords and ladies, servants, messengers to disrupt her duties.
As it was, Nyssa had been reassigned to Prince Aemond’s ward. The Queen informed her that his entourage of servants was small, nothing like she had dealt with before. She would be joining a group of six servants that tended to the Prince. Duties are simple: draw baths, replace the bedding, clean his rooms, fill his cups at dinner. Nothing she hasn't done before.
Aemond had noticed the change at dinner the very first night. She walked the opposite side of the table to him, filled his cup with a sweet red wine, black hair spilling over her shoulder to hide her face. Nyssa felt his gaze bore into the side of her head though she dared not look. Another’s stare burned on her mind, but she would rather face her new ward than return that stare.
A mother’s hand on her back, yet cold and empty.
“That's it, sweetling. It's going to be okay.”
She propped the door open to Prince Aemond’s chambers, clean laundry on her hip, ready to get to work.
The Prince was a relatively clean person compared to most. No excessive trash or wine bottles laying around, his soiled bedding and clothes laid mostly folded and kept to the side for her to be rid of. Nyssa was mildly surprised upon seeing it the first time. One of the other servants given to Aemond had vouched for him.
‘The Prince is more well mannered than most to the staff. He's no slouch.”
So far, it's proven to be true and Nyssa was thankful for it.
It's easy enough to get the bed sheets on and made, then trash and the toilet taken care of. The nasty boring work to be done after is dusting and weekly maintenance. King’s Landing has more dust than she's seen in her entire lifetime. Nyssa’s early life in the North saw smaller buildings and easier to reach shelves, nothing like the unseemingly tall castles and gaudy architecture and decoration of the South. It's a far cry from what she's used to, but she does the job well.
Nyssa took note of the books lining the Prince’s shelves as she wiped away the never ending dust. Books of history, mostly. She could even see some books have recently been removed from their home and replaced. It's no surprise Prince Aemond is well learned. Nyssa herself is tempted by the books in front of her. She sighed and left the book she was dangerously close to taking off the shelf, turning back to the room to finish her duties.
Nyssa startled at the sight of a looming figure in the open doorway. Cheeks flushed, she hid her face and curtsied low.
“Prince Aemond, my apologies. I did not hear you.”
She cautiously peered up at him, still found him staring at her. He had his riding leathers on, all black and skin tight, smelling like smoke and blood and dragon. She recalled hearing Vhagar roar above the castle earlier. Prince Aemond must have been out most of the morning.
“I can finish my duties later if you wish.”
“No. Please continue.”
The two of them stared at each other, neither making a move. His eye traveled around her face as she's sure hers did too. Nyssa could see the detached curiosity in his gaze. She only wondered if he would ask.
The corners of his lips twitched up.
“Are you going to continue?” He implored. “Or just stand there taking up space.”
Indignant, she replied, “Are you going to step into your chambers or stand there and watch me clean more?”
A beat passed.
The Prince’s posture loosened as he chuckled and took a few steps into the room.
“If you would be so kind, you can drop your dirty clothes in the basket and have a bath. The water is freshly changed, but not warm,” she continued.”
Nyssa went about moving parchment, ink, and various things around the center desk, pleased that the Prince seemed to have a sense of humor. Many around King’s Landing didn't appreciate her “Northern” attitude.
A shadow fell over her at the desk. She looked up to see Prince Aemond leaning against the desk once again staring down at her. A few of the clasps of his leather jacket have been undone, like he had considered what she asked and decided otherwise.
She met his strong gaze, “Yes, my Prince?”
Nyssa began to sweat under his scrutinous eye. The Prince can be intense. He's strong and powerful and royal. Maybe she would be wiser to watch her tongue, should he have a secret temper.
“Merely admiring your work.”
She turned it over in her head for a moment.
“...Is that so?”
Again, his lips turned up at the tone of her voice. Her eyes narrowed at him, but before she could have a chance to embarrass herself, the prince turned his back and walked away. Nyssa tracked his movement to the bathing room. It seemed he would take her advice after all.
With her distraction gone, Nyssa flitted through the remainder of her tasks. The Prince ignored when he came from his bath, her attention firmly placed into dusting the decorations in the corner of the room. When she deemed it safe, she declared herself done. She made to pick up her basket of laundry but Aemond spoke.
“Girl.”
She spun to face him, “Yes, Prince Aemond?”
“What is your name?”
Oh.
She smiled. That's nice of him.
“Nyssa, my prince,” she answered. “Was that all?”
He nods, waved his hand to dismiss her.
Nyssa left with a curtsy, basket perched on her hip and a smile on her face.
***
The servant’s curse.
Always to be on the move, never having a moment of peace to oneself.
To Nyssa, it's a life she had no choice in.
Growing up a bastard orphan in the North left her little options. The orphanage could not keep so many children. Mothers and fathers had no need for a sixth child. She couldn't go to the wall. The only thing left for her was to sell herself into servitude. Truly, she loved it. Or learned to love it. Nyssa has passed many hands and all of her lords and ladies had trouble letting her go. The further south she went, the more important hands she passed into, the more duties she had. Landing in the halls of Kings was not somewhere she saw herself ending up.
In a place full of strict rules, Nyssa sought to brand some of her own.
Hands clasped together, eyes closed, kneeling at the base of the prayer altar was how Nyssa found herself. She did not worship the Seven, nor truly the Old Gods, but her handlers could not deny her prayer. While it wasn't the most fruitful way she could spend her time, at least she could be left to her thoughts for a while and relax.
Nyssa found herself relaxing better in her new reassignment. Aemond required little handling, he was clean, and mostly friendly. The Prince was no less a person just because he was a prince. And he showed it more as the weeks went on in his servitude. Nyssa worked up the courage to gently prod him with questions too.
“What are you reading?”
“How's Vhagar?”
“Is it busy in the city today?”
Meaningless questions he hesitated to answer, but did anyway. She didn't keep him long and was content with the short answers he gave her. Aemond even deigned to ask her a question or two about herself.
“Nyssa.”
She replied from her spot near the bed, meticulously tucking in the sheets, “Yes, my Prince?”
“You are not from the Crownlands.”
She stood from the bed, finding her job satisfactory, standing at his attention.
“No, I am not,” Nyssa replied. The black hair that coiled neatly behind her and the pale skin she wore suggested quite otherwise. “I'm from the North, my Prince. Outside of Karhold.”
He hummed, appraising her state of dress. The black maiden dress was not of official servant wear, something too out of fashion for the South. Someone had vouched for her to wear something thinner. Her blood ran cold through and through. It was too warm a climate for her to wear normal dress without suffering heat sickness.
“I see.”
That in itself was enough for Nyssa.
They found themselves in such small talk occasionally. It greatly relaxed her to find that he was much nicer than how he fronts himself to be. At least to her and the other servants. She's had her fair share of unsavory wards before and doesn't particularly enjoy it. Nyssa briefly worried her lip between her teeth. The recent scar was healing fine, but felt uneven and ragged across her lips. It drew more attention to her than she wanted.
Her thoughts teetered on the edge for some time before she felt the presence of someone kneeling next to her. The familiar smell drifted to her nose so easily, she had no need to question who it was.
“Hello Prince Aemond,” she greeted, eyes still closed.
His voice rang clear, but quiet in the sept.
“I wondered where I might find you. Not here.”
“No,” Nyssa agreed. “That's why I am here.”
She opened her eyes to peer at the man next to her. Not quite in the praying position, but Aemond acted the part, kneeling with his hands loosely clasped. Still, his body was angled toward her and meeting her eyes with a question swimming in his own. She indulged him.
“I find myself too much into my work. This is the only way I've ever found someone to honor me with a break.”
Nyssa paused, “I… do hope you'll honor me with this secret. This Is just a farce for a few hours of my own thoughts, after all.”
He stared at her, amused.
“You think yourself put to the sword for alone time?”
Nyssa’s cheeks colored. Not necessarily when he puts it that way.
“I have better ways you can seek refuge from your duties.”
This caught her attention.
“Oh?” She worried her lip some more, almost considering this a trick. She had more faith in Aemond’s intentions than most. “Pray tell, what could that be?”
Aemond turned now, completely giving up the illusion of praying, sitting with his back against the stone rise. The light from above poured down over him, setting him in a ridiculous dramatic light. Much too serious for their light hearted talk. But it emphasized his gorgeous icy white locks, almost of snow from the North. It makes him look out of place from the warmth of King’s Landing. She'd reckon he might even like the North. Vhagar? Not so much.
“I shall consider opening my chambers to you, Nyssa Snow. You are quiet and respectful, personable. I would not mind company in after dinner hours or early mornings.”
Aemond toyed with his gloves in her shocked silence. This was not what she expected. But… she did expect it too. It would not be the first time someone has offered her a place in their chambers. Not even the first time someone in the keep has offered. It stays her hand.
After a few moments of silence, she responded.
“Um… Are you speaking of friendship? Or,” and she lowers her voice, nervousness tainting her words, “companionship?”
“We could be fast friends, you and I. Pour wine for two.”
“Friendship,” he responded immediately. Nyssa let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. Good. “I'm not looking for a companion at present.”
“I accept.”
At this, they made eye contact once again. Both wore shy but pleased grins. Aemond was bold in proclaiming plans of friendship, but Nyssa was just as bold to accept. She was a fool to do so, but there was something about the shy, mysterious prince that willed her to make such a mistake.
Aemond stood at once, clearly having had enough of the sept, “Then I shall see you when it strikes your fancy.”
She nods, still smiling, bidding him goodbye as he left her to her quiet time.
Maybe this friend will treat her better.