Chapter Text
iv.
Days slip into a fortnight. Helaena is granted her animals at least – Lemon and her jars of spiders and cockroaches and beetles. But that is the only kindness they grant her. She is not allowed to leave her chambers. The servants bring her three meals a day.
Her mother visits some days. “Helaena,” she sighs every time, trying to reach for her hand. Helaena always shies away.
Always.
She does not breathe a word to her, to anyone. The only time she uses her voice is at night. A sweet song the musicians played when she was a girl. Over and over. A princess locked away in a tall tower. There is no happy ending to that song – the princess withers away, haunting the halls of the castle she loved so much, forgotten to the world. Her mother commanded that they never sing the song at court again after she caught Helaena singing it.
“My sweetest love,” her mother pleads. “This is for the best – for the family.”
The family.
A mother who doesn’t know how to love. A father who doesn’t love her or her brothers – not enough, anyway. A court that feeds on them all like vultures, always looking for weakness. Always looking for opportunity.
Helaena never answers her mother’s pleas.
She lies there and she rots. She tries not to think about Jace. About his hands or his smile. It scarcely feels real. Like a dream snuffed out. She is blanketed in misery, and she knows this is how it’ll be the rest of her days. Even if she sees Jace again, she will be Aegon’s bride, mother to his babes, and she will be nothing. Nothing more than a ghost.
A princess locked away in a tower.
Her mother can’t do anything – won’t do anything. She is locked in a pretty cage of her own, taught to believed it suited her. Taught how to breathe in it, how to live in it. And Helaena is now expected to do the same. Has she not already her whole life? She realises that now. Her mother keeping her sheltered, granting her books on all she wished. Letting her hide away. A kindness.
Or a mercy.
And Helaena—
The only thing different in her life was Jace. Something off the plan. Something of her own. She doesn’t know if her mother ever had it – if perhaps the reason why her mother hates Rhaenyra Targaryen is because Helaena’s half-sister had the nerve to make her own choices. To love who she chooses, to wed who she chooses. Her mother never had the courage to do the same, and now she’s passed her cowardice onto her.
Maybe if Helaena had the courage to write a raven to Jace all those years ago, to try for her father’s love, to plead with him—
Maybe.
But her grandfather keeps her locked in this cage, and Helaena has no way out. None.
“Oh, Lemon,” she sighs, cuddling her faithful companion to her chest. She still remembers the day Jace gave her Lemon. So young. So kind. “What am I going to do?”
Lemon nuzzles his head into her chest, and Helaena tries to remember how to breathe. How to think.
-
Aemond comes to visit her once.
“It’s not so bad, you know,” he tells her, as she lies on her bed, staring at the canopy. Ignoring him. “You know who he is.”
He sits on the edge of the bed. “Helaena, I wouldn’t let him hurt you.”
She closes her eyes. A lifetime with Aegon. Her mother has spent the last Gods-know how many days explaining to her what happens between a man and wife. You’ll feel some pain, my love. A pinch. But it is our duty to bear this pain. Our honour. We must endure.
Endure.
“Will you protect me in my marriage bed, Aemond?” she asks, the first words she’s spoken in weeks. She tilts her head to look at her brother. “Stand there with a sword?”
His face shutters. “You’re not like that serving girl Dyana, Helaena. He’d treat you with respect.”
“When have you ever seen Aegon treat anything or anyone with respect?” she whispers. “How many other serving girls or tavern wenches or mothers or any other type of women have there been?”
Aemond tightens his jaw. “You’d be his future Queen.”
“Rhaenyra will be the Queen, Aemond,” she snaps. “Jace will be the King after her.”
“You love him, don’t you?” he asks, staring at her coldly. “That is why Mother and Grandfather have you locked in here until the wedding.”
“When is my wedding?” she questions. “A dragon loses life when locked in a cage.”
Aemond is many things. Bitter, angry. Cold. Desperate to prove himself. But he’s never been cruel.
Not to her.
“A fortnight,” he says. “Father is too ill to truly understand what is happening.”
Her heart throbs. Another hope dashed.
“And Jace?”
Aemond rolls his eyes. “His mother dragged him back to Dragonstone.”
She tries not to perk up. “Did he—”
“He almost burst through the guards trying to come and see you,” Aemond grits out. “He didn’t believe Mother that you were ill.”
Aemond reaches out to pat her shoulder. She jerks away, stiffening.
“Accept your fate, Helaena,” he murmurs. “This is for the family.”
“I wish we were like the Starks,” she sighs. “Wolves realize they are better as a pack. They survive together. We dragons always think we’re powerful enough on our own.”
Aemond doesn’t say anything.
He just leaves.
Her mother visits her more in the days leading up to the wedding. Helaena gets a new serving maid in the intervening days.
“Leave her food on the table, Dyana,” her mother tells the young girl. The girl sends her one fleeting, tremulous look before she shuts the door.
Dyana.
That was the name Aemond mentioned. The girl is pale and frail. So young. Younger than she is.
“Helaena,” her mother sighs. “You must eat. Talk to me, my love.”
Helaena looks away. She can see the sea from her window. She imagines sneaking off to find Dreamfyre and flying away, the wind kissing her cheeks. To Dragonstone. Would Jace welcome her there? Would her sister?
To do so might mean starting a war.
“You look tired,” her mother chides, reaching out to caress her cheek.
Helaena leans back, ignoring how her mother flinches. “Please, Helaena. Let me help you.”
“Men spend their lives putting women in cages they say are for their own good,” Helaena breathes, closing her eyes. Her mother pulls away.
“Duty is something all women bear.”
“Is it?” Helaena asks. “Is it truly?”
In that moment, the women before her isn’t her mother, isn’t the Queen. She’s just a little girl. But it’s over in a flash, and the Queen reappears. “I raised you to know your duty,” her mother tells her. “And marrying Aegon is your duty.”
And then she leaves.
Her mother doesn’t come visit her again.
A week before her wedding, Dyana serves her again. Helaena knows she has lost weight. She sees her reflection in the mirrors. Black circles around her eyes. Pale skin.
“Did Aegon hurt you?” Helaena blurts out.
Dyana drops the tray on the floor.
“I’m sorry, Princess,” the girl cries. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
Helaena never likes touching anybody, but the girl is so pitiful she reaches for her hand. Her tears are endless, genuine, and Helaena can see herself in the mirror. Can see herself as Dyana ten years from now – even one or two. A day. A week.
“Whatever he did,” Helaena whispers, “It’s not your fault.”
“You are to wed him, Princess,” Dyana sniffles. “I swore to your mother I would never—”
“I won’t tell her,” Helaena promises. “I won’t.”
Dyana wipes at her eyes.
“You are kind, Princess,” the girl says. She closes her eyes tightly. “Your brother is not.” The girl takes a deep breath. “If you wish me to send something for you, I shall.”
Helaena withdraws her hand.
“We all heard Prince Jacaerys, Princess,” Dyana whispers, flushing. “If I misspoke, I—”
Helaena gingerly reaches for her hand and squeezes.
“Thank you,” she whispers. Dyana squeezes back. “I won’t forget it.”
There is no word. Nothing. Helaena does not know what Dyana did with her letter, and she does not ask. Her mother comes to her room with seamstresses to measure her waist, and Helaena feels whatever hope is left in her body fade with every passing day.
Jace won’t abandon his family. Won’t bring dishonour his house.
And yet she remembers giving him her kiss. His softness. His light.
At least she will have the memories.
The night before her wedding, Helaena is woken by someone shaking her shoulder.
She wakes, opening her mouth to scream, but someone clamps their hand over her mouth.
“It’s me,” Jace hisses. “It’s me.”
She blinks. Once. Twice. He’s here.
He pulls away his hand.
“How—how are you—”
“I got your raven,” he chokes out. “You didn’t think I’d leave you here, did you?”
“Jace—”
“Come,” he whispers, pulling off the covers. “My mother told me about the secret passages in the castle. Vermax is waiting outside King’s Landing – there’s a boat waiting for us at Blackwater Bay to take us to him. Luke is keeping watch, but we have to get going.”
Helaena follows him out of the bed. Lemon meows at the disruption.
“Jace, wait,” she whispers, careful to keep her voice low. He’s already ruffling through her chest, searching for a cloak. “Jace.”
“We have to leave now, Helaena,” he says. ‘It’s the only chance we have. You wed Aegon tomorrow. Is that what you want?”
“No,” she says. “Of course not. But our families—”
“My mother will vouch for us,” Jace assures her.
“Our families will go to war.”
“Your family wants to lock you here,” he says, handing her the cloak. “They want to marry you Aegon. Aegon. He doesn’t love you or care for you. Nothing. They don’t care if you don’t want to marry him.”
He cups her face in his hands, taking her breath away. “I love you,” he whispers. “I want to marry you. Do you want to marry me?”
She nods.
“Then let’s go,” he whispers. “We’ll go to Dragonstone, marry, and then we’ll return. We’ll plead our case.”
“And if they don’t fo—”
The door slowly pushes open.
“Hide,” she whispers, pushing behind the curtain. “Hide.”
Heleana drops the cloak to the floor, turning just as her mother steps into the room, candle lighting her face.
“Helaena,” her mother greets. “You’re awake.”
Helaena nods, throat bobbing as she tries not to tremble. She moves to try and shield Jace from where he’s hiding behind the curtain.
“I was nervous the eve before my wedding—”
Her mother pauses at the sight of the cloak pooled at Helaena’s feet. Her gaze flickers from Helaena to the curtain and back.
“Mother,” Helaena starts, trembling. “Mother, please—”
Jace steps from behind the curtain, takes her hand in his. “I love her,” he says, even as her mother opens her mouth. “I love her. You know Aegon doesn’t. You know.”
“No,” her mother says, shaking her head. “No. You’re not taking my only daughter, you’re not stealing her—”
“He wouldn’t be stealing,” Helaena says. “I want to go with him, Mother. Please. Please let me.”
“It’s your duty to the family—”
“Your mother died when you were young,” Helaena says. “You were younger than me when you wed the King. No one asked what you wanted. No one has ever said sorry to you. I know that what’s you want. I know it. You’ve always wanted someone to apologize for what happened to you—”
“Helaena—”
“Do you want the same for me?” she asks, taking Jace’s hand. “Do you?”
Her mother’s lips part. Time is suspended, frozen. Painful.
Her mother blows out the candle, casting them in darkness.
“Come on,” Jace says. “Helaena, we have to—”
She nods hurriedly, bending down to shrug on her cloak with shaking limbs. When Jace leads her to the hidden door in her room, she pauses.
“Thank you,” she whispers, turning to where her mother stands silently in the shadows. “Thank you.”
Jace takes her hand, and Helaena doesn’t dare slow down lest her mother changes her mind.
They arrive at Dragonstone before sunrise with Luke at their heels on Arrax. Helaena aches for Dreamfyre, for Lemon, but Jace is there.
A septon from Dragonstone awaits them by the shore. Luke is their witness.
They hold hands and swear before the Gods that they belong to each other on the day she was arranged to be wed to another. They seal their fate with a kiss, hand in hand, and Helaena never wants to let him go.
He takes her to his chambers by the hand.
“This is your home,” Jace whispers, stoking the fire. He turns to face her. “Everything I have is yours. I am yours.”
“I am yours, too,” she tells him, letting him hug her closely.
He takes her maiden hand that night, kissing her, loving her, and tears stream down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry, my love,” he tells her. “I’ll stop, I’m hurting—”
“No,” she whispers, kissing him. “I’m just happy.”
They hold hands when they’re summoned to the Great Hall to his mother. She sits with her husband, her eyes narrowed. Jace’s stepfather looks mildly amused, even impressed as he stares at Jace.
“I love her,” Jace starts. “Mother, you know I do.”
“You may have started a war, Jace,” his mother snaps. “You stole her the eve before her wedding—”
“My mother let us go,” Helaena cuts in. “Rhaenyra – sister, please. She let us leave, she saw us. She didn’t say anything.”
Rhaenyra shakes her head. “Alicent wanted you to wed Aegon.”
“She did,” Helaena murmurs, sharing a look at Jace. “But she wants me to be happy more. Happy in a way her father never let her.”
Rhaenyra closes her eyes, as if in pain.
“Otto Hightower,” Daemon Targaryen sighs, shaking his head. “I can only laugh at the expression on his face when he finds out—”
With a single look from his wife, Daemon Targaryen shuts up.
“Mother, you know what it’s like to wed someone you do not love,” Jace says. “To search for happiness…. elsewhere.” His mother looks away. “Helaena and I are married in the eyes of the Gods. Truly. We love each other. Please, Mother. If you want to send me away—”
“No,” Rhaenyra says, closing her eyes. “Never. You know I wouldn’t.”
Rhaenyra takes a deep breath. “I will talk to my father and we will all go to King’s Landing. I will protect you. Always.”
Rhaenyra’s gaze flickers to her. “And you, sister.”
Otto Hightower argues tirelessly to have Jace arrested for treason. For theft. For kidnapping a princess.
To no avail.
Helaena stands there in her husband’s colours, the green of her childhood forsaken, her hand in his.
Rhaenyra fights tirelessly on their behalf and then, to her surprise, her mother steps forward to.
“Let our families be united,” her mother says, ignoring her father’s glare. “Let it rest, husband. Let our daughter be happy.”
Jace presses a soft kiss to her brow. The King decrees their marriage valid, even as he rots and gasps for breath. Otto Hightower looks two seconds away from yelling or protesting, but he accepts the rejection with gritted silence, glaring at her every opportunity he gets.
Her mother and Rhaenyra go to each other at once after the King returns to his chambers, too ill to continue, and Jace walks her to the garden where it all began.
“I kept them, you know,” she tells them, pulling out her locket. “All the notes.”
Jace smiles. “For you,” he says, slipping her another one. She can’t help but giggle.
She unfolds the note. I love you, he wrote in high valyrian.
She smiles.
“I love you too,” she whispers back in Valyrian. “I love you.”
And she kisses him again.
They don’t have to hide anymore.
End.