DNA| Sec 80. high power

chapter 9

"What now?" She asked. Her fingers raked through the strands of her hair at the memory of Aemond. He hadn't held back, the repressed lust had spread like a sickness, infecting them both.

Rhaella smiled. "I suppose you think I'm a whore."

The voice gave a hum of contemplation.

"Love is the mind-killer." It said.

Love? Is this how it is to be? Filled with the musings of some spirit or other as she continued to fall deeper into her desire?

It was equal parts unpleasant and enthralling.

"I need not your opinion, I don't even know what you are. Rhaella responded.

Then she felt it. Disembodied arms wrapped around, engulfing her. They had no particular feeling.

"Oh Rhaella, but I know what you are." It whispered into her ear.

Rhaella's head tilted, curiosity peaked. This conversation felt familiar, but the meaning was compromised.

"What am I?" She said.

"Mine."

It must've been well into noon when Rhaella awoke.

Heaps of her curls surrounded her face as she sat up in bed. Her whole body ached, causing her to wince.

Why hadn't any of the maids come? Typically they made a big show of opening the blinds and preparing her clothes.

No matter, there was a more pressing issue at hand. Rhaella pulled the white sheet from her body to reveal the crimson red that permeated through.

Proof of what she had done. What they had done.

Rhaella's eyes darted across the room for a moment. A hiding place. She landed on the wardrobe. Someone would find the sheets eventually, but not after she was long gone.

Her feet found purchase on the cold tile. It wasn't even for a full second before her knees buckled, stumbling to the floor.

It was as if her body was screaming for her to feel shame.

Balling up the linens, she shoved them inside the deepest parts of the wardrobe.

It had been some time and handmaidens had not yet entered. Deciding to dress herself, Rhaella slipped on the dress Helaena had given her. The gorgeous purple silks hid the slightly reddened bruises around her thighs and waist.

Then there was the issue with her hair. Curses were let loose and Rhaella struggled against the tangles.

The end result was somewhat presentable. Rhaella had wished her hair was loced like Rhaena or her grandfather.

Rhaella's stomach rumbled in protest. She would make it a point to visit the kitchens first.

Her hand slid over the door's handle. The knob would not budge, despite Rhaella's efforts.

She tried again. Then once more, followed by several futile attempts thereafter.

Confusion etched itself onto her brow. There wasn't a possibility that she locked herself in.

Perhaps one of the guards made a mistake.

Rhaella raised her fists, pounding on the wooden door.

"Hello?" She called out. "Is anyone there?"

Her fists continued to beat the door, leaving nothing but echoes.

Rhaella reluctantly took her hands away from the door. She couldn't place it,but something wasn't right.