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...

He stiffs, unwanted memories getting back at him. His eye immediately sharpens at his fiancee, Drusilla Tyrell being not only a nuance, but a reminder of an open wound.

'My half-brother,' the voice rings, making his mother immediately tense up. 'Here you are. I couldn't leave without congratulating you and your future wife properly.'

Rhaenyra, in the company of her little bastards, stopped before them, ever peaceful smiles on their faces; the ones Aemond wishes to tear in the same way his eye was taken away, once. They shouldn't even appear there! But, surely, he knows why they are here.

'Ah, Princess Rhaenyra!' Drusilla bows to her in a quick reverence, little sparking accessories on her head moving after her. 'It is a pleasure to meet you again.'

'Indeed, it is,' his mother adds quietly.

Drusilla Tyrell is considered the most wanted woman in all Seven Kingdoms, all men wishing to have her to themselves, contests and tournaments for her heart being arranged over the years. And, surely, Rhaenyra's sons participated in them as well. After all, not only the most beautiful, Drusilla is also the richest woman ever being alive. No surprise everyone chased her so desperately.

'It is truly a shame that in the end your and Jacaerys's possible marriage was canceled,' Rhaenyra hums. 'But I believe your brother knows what he is doing.'

As these words leave her mouth, Aemond feels the familiar wish to strangle someone. How dare they come to him, and say such things like that in this face? Openly, even!

Before he and Alicent manages to say something - he sees how his mother rages in mere seconds - Drusilla answers for them, quiet but with certain power in her voice as she speaks:

'My brother, my dear Augustus, simply chose for me the man of my league. And I solemnly believe that the same thing, perhaps, could happen with your son in the future.'

For a second, Aemond and Rhaenyra both look puzzled, but as Drusilla starts idiotically laughing again, clapping a little bit, like a child - it reminds him of Helaena - no one seems to be bothered by her words anymore.

Aemond glances at her dumbstruck.

Is he getting paranoid over nothing, or Drusilla Tyrell, this brainless pacifier, openly offended Jacaerys Velaryon by calling him, the Prince, not of her league? He tries to see if anyone noticed, if anyone understood, but even his stupid sister seems to not take her words seriously.

No, he must be wrong. His brain simply unconsciously searches for reasons to find fault in her.

'Oh, I see Princess Rhaenyra had already met my grandson's little accessory,' Otto includes himself in the conversation, placing a hand on Aemond's shoulder from behind; never the one to leave alone Rhaenyra with his daughter.

Aemond watches his bride carefully. And so, this time, he is sure - Drusilla Tyrell sends his grandfather absolutely deadly sight, pretty face grimacing in something mad. It is just a second, maybe even shorter; when attention is back on her she is giggling carelessly, answering something stupid and thoughtless as usual. But Aemond knows - something is very wrong with this girl.

'I apologize, but I must go and see my handmaiden,' she chatters gently.

Yet he cannot unsee the image of her he managed to catch before.

Is the Realm's Beauty and Soul really so innocent as she looks? Or there is something more, something other's failed to see?

•

Spying on his betrothed, perhaps, is not the most respectful thing that Aemond had done in his life. But Drusilla Tyrell might be a danger to his house and family, and protecting them is his main priority. What means courtesy and manners if he will not be able to save them, after all?

And, Drusilla had only herself to blame as she decided to talk with her maid in one of the empty halls not so far from the main one - empty place, yet not closed from others and therefore never safe for private talks. She could be heard by anyone, and she is not exactly the quietest person as far as he noticed, at least. So, Drusilla shouldn't be surprised if she ever finds out that someone - her possible future husband, for example - slipped inside to overhear her conversation, really.

'Are you okay, my lady?' Her maid, a short girl with a round face asks worriedly.

Drusilla puts her hands on the nearest table with the loud sound, hanging her head low. For a short while there is nothing, and then, a loud hiss - not the softest sound she ever made.

'Oh, I see Princess Rhaenyra has already met my grandson's little accessory!' She mimics his grandfather, the gentle voice sounding so crude and poisonous that Aemond raises his eyebrows a little bit.

Her maid sighs.

'My lady, it is a natural reaction that people have on women. You shouldn't waste your nerves on this.'

But Drusilla paces around restlessly, small steps changing with big and powerful ones as he head is raised high and proud, hands locked behind her back. As if the precious dove in her suddenly transformed into a shrike.

'Have you heard that cunt?'

'Which one, my lady?'

'Rhaenyra,' Drusilla hisses to Aemond's biggest surprise. 'According to her, it is a shame that my and her son's marriage wasn't to Augustus likening! What was that boy's name, for God's sake Gods...'

'I think it is Jacaerys, my lady.'

'Oh, as if I would ever allow myself to be married to a bastard.'

This word echoes in the empty walls dangerously. Aemond finds himself scoffing - his future wife's anger seems rather amusing. How nicely she plays out the role of a good girl in front of others, and how mean is her tongue when she thinks she is alone. He wonders what he will hear about himself.

'I am pretty sure she had no means to offend you...'

'Not me, of course,' Drusilla shrugs, cooling down slightly. 'It is clear for me that her intentions were solely focused on pricking prince Aemond.'

Hm. So, not stupid either.

'My lady, allow this one to speak up, but... Lashing on people for a man you hardly know is a rather ugly thing to do. What if someone notices your unfavour? Your reputation would be in danger, my lady.'

Aemond unconsciously moves closer, waiting for Drusilla's response patiently. Yet, when she answers, he doesn't expect her to speak with his own words and beliefs, everything he would say escaping those plump lips.

'As soon as our marriage would be consummated, Prince Aemond would be counted as part of my family as his family will be mine as well. And I always vowed to protect my family and its honour. Therefore, I should stand for him too. No matter what our relationship would be like, I will perform my duty perfectly. Though, I hope, he will answer with the same dedication.'

Drusilla spoke those words strong and sure, making Aemond stunned. She surprised him by the power she holds, and by the way she fools others skillfully. Drusilla Tyrell is nothing like what she looks like among people. How could others not notice it?

'I understand, my lady... Ah, one more thing... Lord Tyrell, your father, would ask me to write an honest letter about what prince Aemond is like. What you think of him as well. Please, order me what to do.'

She plops on the nearest chair, face resting on her open palm. Aemond studies her features more carefully this time. Nothing has changed, but at the same time, everything is different - the cheer in her expression changed to apathy, and, oh, her eyes that were shining all evening... Now, blue orbs look cold and restless, reminding him of the sea in the winter, when wind is rising waves and it's storming.

'Write him that prince Aemond is an exquisite man,' she starts, collecting her words carefully. 'Calm. He carries himself like a true royalty. Holds respect towards women, that I can see from the way he talks with his mother and sister. Oh. Add that he is hellishly handsome.'

Aemond blinked owlishly, and this reaction is shared by Drusilla's maid.

'P-pardon, my lady, are you serious about the last one?'

Lady Tyrell nods confused.

'Kasia, why would I lie to my father? Of course, I speak only the truth. Have you seen him? The old and new Gods would envy his sharp features. And hair... I bet they are as soft to touch as they look.' She sighs, slightly absentmindedly.

It is not something Aemond would admit, but his heart skipped a bit traitorously.

Women in the court never spoke highly of his appearance, choosing more disgusted words and emotions to describe him. For the first time in a while, someone was speaking about him, about the way he looks, with so much... Delight.

'But, my lady, his eye-'

'It is a shame for a dragonrider to be one-eyed, the difficulty must be a deadly one,' Drusilla hums, the tips of her fingers tapping on the table. 'But what else is there to say? Actually... Oh, I beg you not to write it in the letter to my father, but... He looks especially majestic with the scar.'

The last words came more as a mutter, but Aemond was able to catch them.

Perhaps, he is dreaming. How come, then, Drusilla Tyrell is suddenly quite smart and even gained some respect from his point of view? And how is it possible for her - especially, the Tyrell women as all of them are hungry for beauty - to be so fond of the way he looks?

'O-okay, then. Is that all?' Her maids, Kasia, asks a little bit bashfully for what she heard.

As Aemond understands that she is about to leave the room, he quickly escapes, making his presence unnoticeable.

Now, as a nice appearance of the stupid girl shattered in front of him, leaving behind only some fragments, Aemond is not sure what to think. Drusilla Tyrell is more intriguing than he originally thought, yes. It doesn't change the fact that he is still suspicious of her - until he will not make sure that she is not the danger to his family, he will not rest for a second - but it only means that he should keep an eye for her. And talk properly to her.

But until then, he prefers to keep her true identity a little secret.

Something animalish in him thinks it is only fair - to keep it all to himself.

•

'He left.'

Kasia says and Drusilla's lips thins in a cold smile.

'I might say, my lady, I am still highly astonished how precisely you predicted all of this to happen,' a girl chirps, jumping slightly in her place. 'It must be scary to slip up your mask only for a few seconds, hoping that he would notice something... And how could you know that he will follow us? After all, the prince is known as the most gentleman.'

Drusilla sighs tiredly.

Kasia is a trusted company, but despite them having a little age difference - Drusilla reaching her twenties, while Kasia was hardly sixteen - it is, indeed, hard to keep up with her undying energy. Kasia is younger, mentally. And still having a lot of things to learn. Something that she, lady Tyrell, could never relate to.

'I know men like Aemond Targaryen,' she answers peacefully, hands fixing her hair. 'Though he is smart, he is too suspicious. It blinds him, in some way. He clearly isn't happy with this marriage, enduring it for his family. An unhappy man as he will always search for an imperfection in the one that was chosen to sadden his fate. See? A mere second, and he already noticed slight, intentional changes that no one saw.'

He was always like this, Aemond.

Too paranoidal for his own good.

'But, my lady, what if he will say about everything he heard to the Queen?'

Drusilla glances at her own reflection in the mirror of the floor, fingers playing with the front curls as she answers:

'He will not do such a thing. It benefits him a little bit - my attitude, what I said about duty. And... It is a little bit animalish behaviour. A wish to have something, to know something that others don't. I assume it comes from his loneliness.' She notices a surprised glance Kasia offers her, and explains more thoroughly: 'Aemond Targaryen is truly a lonely man. The second son, the less popular one, the more closed one. He needs company. Someone he could find equal to himself, someone he could trust. And so, I am going to be one for him.'

She thinks nothing really changed from their childhood - Aemond, being all alone, desiring attention from the others, yet, unlike his brother, never being able to act recklessly to get some. And, of course, too quiet for gaining attention naturally. How sad it is.

'I wonder, my lady, why are you doing this so... Complicated.' Kasia asks, slightly unsure. 'You could simply tell him that you are here to be his ally, to help him.'

Oh, how naive.

Drusilla shakes her head.

'That will not work. He has no reason to trust me. Yet. But more to say... I want him to know me slowly, step by step. I want him to want me by his side. Because his heart desires so, and not because he is a good son, and has responsibilities before me as his future wife. I want him to want me to be married to him.' The coldness in her eyes vanishes for a second, changing in familiar brightness, though, an unnatural one. Drusilla claps in her hands, cheerfully. 'Now, now, we have so many guests to meet. Let's go, Kasia!'

Her own honey-like voice for years of pretending long ago became something normal, an ordinary thing, really. But there is a difference between acting like this only around people, on public events, and putting the act on all the time, from now living under the roof with strangers, someone she couldn't ever trust.

Gladly for her, Drusilla Tyrell knows how to play games.

After all, she is the one who started it.

A/N: A-and epilogue - done.

Well, first thing I liked to notice that this story will have a LOT OF untrustful narrators, and in some way even Drusilla is the one, lmao. So... Don't trust anyone in here! Jk... Unless? The POV will be wrapped around how people see and understand Drusilla's actions, and then you can get her POV and to see her opinion on that matter.

Second of all, if you see a lot of prompts on roman history... Well... He.

And last, but not least, be sure that Drusilla is the coldest person, who you ever met alive. Unless...?

Anyway, let the hungry games start :)