𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 | 𝐚𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧.

𝟎. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐋

A/N: And before we start, remember - don't make assumptions about anything or anyone before you reach the end. Of the chapter or the story? Well. I think it is both :)

•

A fool.

That is what Aemond thinks about his betrothed wife, the one that gallantly walks, almost flies as she meets guests with a trained nice smile, reddish cheek pressed to her brother's shoulder.

Drusilla Tyrell is a fool.

Admittedly, the house of Tyrell is Aemond's the last preferable one. All their family looks like a useless, empty shell of the people, who only know how to bathe in gold and money, having inside their heads nothing more than thoughts about luxury and comfort.

But Drusilla Tyrell... Oh, she is the worst of them.

Aemond remembers her visits to King's Landings in the past - she was still a kid back then, with round blushed cheeks and dark hair that always seemed to gathered in complicated styles - a stupid, naive girl, who managed to befriend his brother. And the last statement by itself already was a worthy proof of what empty-headed person she was. Now, Drusilla looks leaner, face less soft and more sharp, the same blue orbs glistening when she speaks, thin lips curving in polite smiles, giddy laugh escaping them regularly.

Drusilla Tyrell is being called the Realm's Beauty and Soul, though, the more Aemond watches at hungry looks other men give her, the more he starts to think that all her soul that is so valued by others is rather hiding behind her corset.

"At least, she is stupid," Otto said to him this morning as if it would change something. "Let her enjoy the royal life - and she will be silent. I highly doubt that she will ever stick her nose in the work of grownups.'

Perhaps, he was not wrong, but... Aemond despises stupid people.

'Oh, here you are, sweetheart!' His mother nods to upcoming Drusilla, reaching to hug her, exchanging quick kisses on cheeks. 'Look at you! How you grew up! A wonderful woman! And your brother, Augustus! You both are so beautiful - truly, the title of Flower and Sword of Tyrells' house is deserved!'

Aemond and Drusilla hadn't met each other properly yet, before this little ball - Augustus Tyrell was insisting for them to meet only today, and have a month for communication before actually wedding him, in case his sister will refuse to be married to him. So, therefore, they see each other for the first time after a long time.

'Ah, it's so-o pleasant to meet you again, your Grace!' Drusilla exclaims enthusiastically. 'You haven't changed at all!'

'Oh, I beg you!' His mother laughs a little bit, putting her hand on his forearm, squeezing it slightly: 'But do you know who changed a lot from your last meeting? Aemond!'

He almost sighs, but instantly steps closer. Drusilla instantly bows before him, extending her arm. Aemond nods to her, placing a small kiss on the back of her awfully cold hand, and as their eyes meet, he unconsciously furrows.

...Just for a second it seemed like...

Like there was something sinister in those gentle features.

But then he blinks, vision disappearing, and Drusilla smiles at him again, big blue doe eyes watching him like a stupid lamb.

'Drusilla Tyrell, my betrothed.'

'Aemond Targaryen, My Prince,' She answers, voice melodic and soothing, reminding of little bells in the wind. 'I am grateful for having you as I hope you feel the same towards me.'

Aemond nods to her, almost lifelessly.

Marriage has never seemed like a possible happy alliance for him, the only exception being... Only...