The Sound of Storms ▻ House of the Dragon

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

A quick note before the chapter starts. If you want to listen to something while reading this, I highly suggest 'Duck Shoot' by Rupert Gregson-Williams, from The Crown's season 1 soundtrack. I basically had this song on loop the whole time while writing this and I think it fits well with the theme. 

The bath did very little to calm Isidore's nerves.

The warm water soothed her tired muscles and the scent of the salts and balms should have been calming and refreshing. She could hear the gentle lapping of the water against her skin and the muted chatter of her handmaids as they worked, scrubbing grime and dust off her limbs. The smell of the shampoo filled the air with a sweet floral aroma.

But despite her best efforts, her mind still raced with worries for her family. She could still see her mother's shining dress through the dust and prayed that they were safely out of the rubble. Her heart pounded in her chest and her shoulders were tense. She lays still in the water, her eyes closed, trying to focus on her breathing and slow her heart rate.

Eventually, Isidore emerged from the water and allowed her handmaids to help her dry off. She stood before the mirror, staring at her reflection. Her hair was still damp and her skin flushed from the heat of the water.

Isidore slipped into a loose shirt, feeling the cool fabric brush against her skin. She pulled on a pair of breeches and tugged on her boots, the sound of the leather creaking as she walked. As she settled a quilted vest on her shoulders, she could feel the weight of it on her chest, and her hands trembled as she fumbled with the buckles.

Her handmaids braided her hair, the gentle tugging sensation sending shivers down her spine. The scent of lavender from the oil they used to smooth her hair filled the air, calming her nerves. The finished braid fell down her back.

"Your Grace?" a new handmaid said as she entered the room. Isidore looked up at her.

"Yes?"

"Your presence has been requested in the small council chambers,"

Isidore sat upright. "Thank you," she said, standing and taking one last look in the mirror before she left.

With an air of confidence that she didn't entirely feel, the princess strode towards the small council chambers. At the entrance, she was greeted by guards dressed in bright green and gold uniforms, holding halberds and spears. They bowed respectfully as she passed, and she nodded in acknowledgment.

Inside, the room was dimly lit and a long wooden table stretched the length of the room and was littered with maps and parchments, their edges stained blue-black from the inkwells beside them. Aegon lounged at one end, gold goblet in hand, his sister-wife and the Queen, Helaena seated beside him, nervously tracing her fingers over a small bronze trinket. Further down the room, Aemond stood motionless at the fireplace, his back to the door, garbed in freshly laundered silk and velvet.

There were other men that Isidore didn't know, wearing robes of rich reds, blues, and browns. Isidore recognized a handful of them.

"Your Grace," they said in unison. Aegon tipped his goblet to her in acknowledgment. Isidore said nothing in return, but paced down to the fireplace and stood beside Aemond at the hearth.

Isidore glanced at Aemond, but he seemed to be lost in thought, staring into the flames. She cleared her throat to get his attention, but he didn't turn around.

As she studied the flames, Isidore felt a sense of unease wash over her. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Maybe it was the way Aemond was standing so still or the way Aegon seemed to be drinking more than usual. Isidore couldn't quite put her finger on it.