Chapter Text
Years passed.
Not in sudden change, nor in grand moments that reshaped the world—but in quiet, steady days that folded into one another until time itself seemed softer.
Within the walls of the Red Keep, little had changed between me and Aegon.
We had become strangers who shared a name.
A title.
Children.
But nothing more.
We rarely spoke.
Rarely crossed paths.
And when we did, it was brief—cold nods, passing glances, nothing that lingered. Whatever had once existed between us, whether fragile hope or painful longing, had long since faded into something distant and unrecognizable.
I no longer expected anything from him.
Not kindness.
Not presence.
Not love.
There was a quiet clarity in that acceptance.
Aegon would never change.
And I had finally made peace with it.
My world had narrowed, but in that narrowing, it had grown fuller.
Jaehaerys and Jaehaera were no longer fragile infants in a cradle.
They were five now.
Bright.
Curious.
Alive with questions and laughter that filled the chambers with a warmth I had never known before.
Jaehaerys was the bolder of the two—quick to speak, quick to act, with a spark in his eyes that reminded me too much of his father. Yet there was a gentleness in him as well, especially when it came to his sister.
Jaehaera was quieter.
Observant.
She often watched the world before stepping into it, her small hand finding mine instinctively, as though she drew comfort from my presence.
They were different.
And yet inseparable.
Like two halves of something whole.
Most days were spent with them—lessons, walks in the gardens, quiet afternoons filled with stories and soft laughter. I taught them what I could, watched them grow, memorized the small details others might overlook.
The way Jaehaera tilted her head when she was thinking.
The way Jaehaerys smiled when he thought no one was looking.
These were the moments I held onto.
These were the things that mattered.
And yet…
The dreams had not left me.
They never would.
Sometimes they came softly, like distant echoes.
Other times, they struck without warning.
One night, I woke with a sharp breath, my heart racing as fragments of a vision slipped through my mind like smoke through my fingers.
Fire.
Always fire.
Dragons screaming across a darkened sky.
A crown.
Blood.
I sat up slowly, the darkness of the chamber pressing in around me.
Beside me, the children slept peacefully, untouched by the things I saw.
For now.
I rose quietly and moved to their bedside, watching them for a long moment.
Five years old.
So small.
So unaware.
My chest tightened faintly.
The future loomed closer now.
I could feel it.
The tension in the keep.
The unspoken divide within our family.
The fragile threads holding everything together were beginning to strain.
And when they broke—
They would take everything with them.
My gaze lingered on my children.
“They must be safe,” I whispered again, the words softer now, but no less certain.
Because if the dreams were true…
If the war I had seen was truly coming…
Then the world they would inherit would not be kind.
I reached out, brushing a strand of silver hair from Jaehaera’s face, then resting my hand lightly against Jaehaerys’ shoulder.
“I will protect you,” I murmured.
Even if I could not stop what was coming.
Even if fate had already been written.
Because whatever else I had lost…
Whatever else had been taken from me…
This remained.
And I would not let it be taken too.
Days passed in quiet anticipation.
The air within the Red Keep felt… different. Tighter. As though the walls themselves were holding their breath.
It was mother who made the announcement.
“Your sister will be returning,” she had said, her voice measured, though something beneath it stirred uneasily. “Rhaenyra, Daemon, and their children will be visiting King’s Landing.”
For a moment, I had simply stared at her.
It had been years.
Years since Dragonstone had taken her from us.
Years since I had last seen her not as a memory, but as something real.
A strange warmth had settled in my chest then—soft, almost unfamiliar.
I was glad.
Truly glad.
But not everyone shared that feeling.
Later that same day, I found myself lingering just beyond one of the corridors near the council chambers, unseen, unheard.
And I listened.
“You will behave,” Mother’s voice rang sharply, cutting through the air with unmistakable authority. “Both of you.”
Silence followed briefly, before a familiar scoff broke it.
“Yes, Mother,” came the careless reply of Aegon.
Mocking.
Unbothered.
“You think this is a jest?” Mother snapped.
Another voice followed—colder, more controlled.
“We will show them the respect they deserve,” said Aemond.
But there was something beneath his words.
Something sharp.
Something unresolved.
Mother did not seem convinced.
“You will do more than that,” she said firmly. “There will be no conflict. No insults. No… incidents.”
The unspoken words lingered heavily in the air.
I did not need to hear the names to know who she meant.
Jacaerys.
Lucerys.
The past had not been forgotten.
Not by any of them.
“And you,” Mother added sharply, her tone turning back to Aegon. “You will present yourself as a prince of this house, not a disgrace to it.”
Aegon laughed under his breath.
“I always do.”
The lie hung there, effortless.
Careless.
Mother’s voice dropped, quieter now—but far more dangerous.
“Do not shame me again.”
There was no reply to that.
Only silence.
Heavy.
Telling.
I slipped away before I could be discovered, my thoughts quieter than they should have been.
That evening, I stood once more by the window of my chamber, the fading light casting long shadows across the floor.
“Grandmother says Aunt Rhaenyra is coming,” Jaehaerys said from behind me, his voice curious.
I turned slightly, watching as he stood beside his sister, both of them looking up at me expectantly.
“Yes,” I said softly. “She is.”
“Will she stay?” Jaehaera asked, her small hand finding the edge of my gown.
I hesitated.
“I do not know.”
And that was the truth.
Nothing about this visit felt simple.
Nothing about it felt safe.
Still…
A small part of me held onto something gentler.
A memory of what once was.
“I would like you to meet her,” I added quietly. “She is… important.”
To me.
Even if the rest of the world had turned her into something else.
Jaehaerys grinned faintly. “Will she bring dragons?”
A soft breath of amusement escaped me.
“Perhaps.”
Children saw the world differently.
Without the weight of history.
Without the bitterness.
Without the quiet understanding that something fragile was about to be tested.
I looked back out toward the darkening city.
Dragonstone.
King’s Landing.
Two sides of something that had never truly been whole.
Now, they would stand beneath the same roof again.
And I could feel it—
That same quiet pull in my chest.
The same warning that lingered beneath my dreams.
This was not just a visit.
It was something more.
Something that would shift the course of everything.
But still…
Despite the tension.
Despite the fear.
I allowed myself one small, fragile thought.
I would see my sister again.
And for that—
I was glad.
Days later, the gates of the Red Keep opened once more to dragons.
The sound came first—distant, thunderous wings cutting through the sky. Servants and guards alike turned their gazes upward, whispers trailing in their wake as shadows passed over the city.
They had arrived.
We stood waiting in the courtyard—mother poised and composed as ever; beside her, my brothers, both bearing their own quiet tension.
And me.
I stood slightly behind, my hands folded gently before me, my heart… uncertain.
The dragons landed one by one.
And then—
She stepped forward.
For a moment, the years between us seemed to vanish.
She was older, yes—hardened in ways time and distance had shaped—but still unmistakably her.
My sister.
Behind her stood Daemon, as unreadable as ever, his presence sharp and commanding. Their children followed—grown now, no longer the small figures I remembered from years ago.
Silence lingered for a breath too long.
Then Mother stepped forward.
Formal greetings were exchanged—measured, careful, each word weighed before it was spoken.
I said little.
But when my gaze met Rhaenyra’s—
I smiled.
Softly.
Genuinely.
And for a fleeting moment, something in her expression eased in return.
That evening, the great hall was filled once more.
A supper had been arranged—smaller than the grand feasts of old, but no less significant. The long table was set, candles flickering against stone walls as voices rose and fell in cautious conversation.
I sat beside my children, guiding them gently through the unfamiliar presence of so many gathered together.
Across the table, the divisions were clear—even if no one spoke them aloud.
Still…
There was an effort.
A fragile attempt at unity.
It was during the meal that the announcement came.
Jacaerys was to be betrothed to Baela.
A match of blood and legacy.
Of strengthening ties that had long been strained.
Murmurs followed—some approving, others less so—but no one openly opposed it.
Not tonight.
Tonight was meant for peace.
And then—
My mother rose.
The hall quieted almost instantly.
Mother stood tall, her gaze sweeping across the table before settling, briefly, on Rhaenyra.
When she spoke, her voice was steady.
Clear.
“Despite all that has passed,” she began, “we are still one family.”
The words hung in the air, fragile as glass.
She continued, her tone softening—though not without effort.
“Princess Rhaenyra has shown strength, resilience… and a devotion to her house that cannot be denied.”
A pause.
Then—
“When the time comes, I believe she will make a fine queen.”
The hall stilled.
Even I felt the weight of it.
Years of tension.
Years of quiet resentment.
Set aside—if only for a moment.
I glanced toward Rhaenyra.
Her expression was unreadable, but there was something there.
Something cautious.
Something real.
It was not long after that when another presence entered the hall.
Slow.
Fragile.
Yet commanding in its own way.
All turned as Father appeared.
The king looked weaker than I remembered—his body frail, his steps unsteady—but his eyes…
His eyes were bright.
Hopeful.
He was helped to his seat, and as he looked around the table—at all of us, gathered together—something like peace settled over his features.
“My family,” he murmured, his voice thin but filled with quiet emotion.
Silence followed.
Not tense.
Not strained.
But something softer.
Something almost… whole.
I watched him carefully.
Watched the way his gaze lingered on each of us, as though trying to hold onto the moment.
As though he knew how fleeting it truly was.
And perhaps he did.
Because even as laughter began to return—soft, cautious, uncertain—
I felt it again.
That quiet pull beneath my skin.
That whisper from the dreams I could never escape.
This moment—
This fragile peace—
Would not last.
But still…
For that night, beneath candlelight and careful words, we were a family again.
And I allowed myself, just once—
To believe in it.
The music had begun.
Soft at first—measured, almost hesitant—before swelling into something warmer, something meant to carry the illusion of unity a little longer.
But I knew better.
I always did.
I leaned down toward my children, brushing a gentle hand over Jaehaera’s hair.
“It is time,” I murmured softly.
Jaehaerys frowned slightly. “Must we go?”
“Yes,” I said, smiling faintly. “You have stayed long enough.”
With a quiet instruction, I signaled for the servants. They came at once, bowing before carefully guiding the twins from the hall. I watched them go, my gaze lingering just a moment longer than necessary.
Safe.
Away from what was coming.
Because I could feel it again—
That tension.
That inevitable pull.
“Princess.”
The voice drew me back.
I turned—and found myself face to face with Jacaerys.
He offered a polite bow, his expression composed but warm.
“Would you honor me with a dance?”
For a brief moment, I hesitated.
Not out of fear.
But because I knew—
Nothing in this hall was simple.
Still…
I nodded.
“I would.”
His hand was steady as he led me toward the center of the hall. The music shifted slightly, adjusting to the rhythm of the dance as we joined the others.
It was… gentle.
Respectful.
There was no tension in his touch, no hidden intention—only courtesy.
And for a fleeting moment, I allowed myself to be present in it.
To simply move.
To exist without the weight of everything pressing in from all sides.
But peace never lasted long.
I felt it before I saw it.
That shift in the room.
That sharp, sudden change.
My gaze flickered across the hall—
And found him.
Aegon.
He was watching.
Not with indifference.
Not this time.
There was something darker there.
Something sharper.
His jaw clenched, his grip tightening around the goblet in his hand.
And just like that—
The illusion shattered.
The music faltered slightly as Aegon rose.
“You’ve grown bold,” he called out, his voice cutting cleanly through the hall.
All movement slowed.
All eyes turned.
Jacaerys stilled beside me, but did not release my hand.
“I mean no disrespect,” he said calmly.
Aegon let out a harsh laugh.
“No?” he said. “Dancing with my wife in front of me seems quite bold.”
A murmur rippled through the room.
I stepped back, pulling my hand gently away.
“It was only a dance,” I said quietly.
But Aegon was no longer listening.
Or perhaps he never had.
Before anything more could be said—
Another voice rose.
Cool.
Sharp.
“Well,” Aemond drawled, lifting his cup slightly, “we must commend our nephews for their courage.”
His single eye gleamed faintly.
“It cannot be easy… pretending to be something you are not.”
The words hung in the air.
Heavy.
Poisoned.
A silence followed—
Then chairs scraped sharply against stone.
Jacaerys stepped forward.
“What did you say?” he demanded.
Beside him, Lucerys rose as well, anger flashing across his face.
Aemond did not move.
Did not flinch.
“You heard me.”
The tension snapped.
Voices rose.
Accusations followed.
Years of resentment—barely contained—spilled into the open like fire meeting air.
“Enough!”
The command rang out—sharp, commanding.
Both Mother and Rhaenyra had risen.
For a moment, it seemed as though neither side would yield.
But slowly—
Reluctantly—
They stepped back.
The damage, however, had already been done.
The fragile peace of the evening lay in ruins.
The hall emptied not long after.
Quietly.
Uneasily.
No one wished to remain.
No one wished to speak of what had just happened.
I turned to leave—
But a hand seized my arm.
Rough.
Unyielding.
I barely had time to react before I was pulled back.
“Aegon—”
But he said nothing.
Aegon did not look at me.
Did not slow.
He dragged me from the hall, his grip firm enough to bruise, his steps unsteady but purposeful.
The corridors blurred past us.
Servants lowered their gazes as we passed.
No one dared intervene.
Not a word was spoken.
Not until we reached our chambers.
The door slammed shut behind us.
Only then did he release me.
The silence that followed was not quiet.
It was heavy.
Volatile.
Waiting.
And I knew—
This was not over.
The room was dark, the only light coming from the dying embers of the fireplace.
Aegon stood with his back to me, his shoulders tense beneath his fine clothing. I could see the anger radiating off him in waves, a palpable thing that filled the space between us.
"What were you thinking?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. "Dancing with him. With Jacaerys."
I took a steadying breath, trying to calm my racing heart. "It was only a dance, Aegon. Nothing more."
He spun around then, his eyes flashing with fury. "Nothing more?" he echoed, taking a step towards me. "You think I don't see how he looks at you?"
I frowned, confusion and annoyance warring within me. "What are you talking about? No one looks at me any differently."
Aegon scoffed, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
"You're drunk," I said, my voice firm as I tried to steer the conversation back to something more grounded. "You need to rest."
Aegon's eyes narrowed, his anger seeming to flare even brighter at my words. "Don't try to dismiss this, Helaena. I saw the way you smiled at him. The way you looked at each other."
I sighed, exasperation creeping into my tone. "Aegon, please. It was a dance at a family gathering. Nothing more."
But Aegon was beyond reason, his jealousy and alcohol-fueled rage consuming him.
He took another step closer, his face inches from mine.
"You think I'm stupid?" he snarled. "You think I can't see what's right in front of me?"
I stood my ground, refusing to back down despite the fear that coiled in my stomach. "I think you're drunk and overreacting," I said calmly.
Aegon's face contorted with rage, his hands shaking as he reached out to grab me.
I barely had time to react before he was on me, his fingers wrapping around my throat with surprising strength.
"You think you can just dance with whoever you want?" he growled, his grip tightening. "You think you can smile at other men and expect me not to notice?"
His thumbs pressed into my windpipe, making it difficult to breathe.
The room spun slightly as I clawed at his hands, trying desperately to break free.
"Say it," he demanded hoarsely. "Tell me how much you want him. Tell me how much you'd rather be with Jacaerys than with me."
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I struggled against him, panic setting in.
"Aegon," I gasped, my voice barely audible as I struggled against his grip. "You're hurting me."
But he didn't relent. If anything, his fingers tightened further, cutting off my air supply entirely.
Black spots danced at the edges of my vision as I fought to stay conscious.
"Say it," he insisted, his face twisted with a mix of rage and desperation. "Tell me the truth."
I couldn't speak, couldn't breathe.
All I could do was claw weakly at his hands, praying for someone - anyone - to intervene. But we were alone in our chambers.
No one would hear my muffled cries for help.
As darkness crept in from the corners of my eyes, I realized with a sense of dread that Aegon might actually kill me in his jealous rage.
Suddenly, Aegon released me, and I stumbled backwards, gasping for air.
Before I could regain my balance, he grabbed me roughly and slammed his lips against mine in a brutal kiss.
I struggled against him, but his grip was too strong.
He pushed me backwards until my legs hit the edge of the bed, and I fell onto the mattress.
Aegon followed, crawling over me and pinning my wrists above my head. His kisses were violent, punishing, as he tore at my gown with his free hand.
"I'll show you who you belong to," he growled against my lips. "I'll remind you that you're mine."
Fear and anger warred within me as I bucked beneath him, trying desperately to break free. But Aegon was too heavy, too strong.
Tears streamed down my face as he ripped the fabric of my gown, exposing my skin to the cool air.
As Aegon's hands roamed my body, I tensed, knowing what was coming.
It had been years since we had last shared a bed, and my body was no longer accustomed to his touch.
I braced myself for the pain I knew would follow, the stretching and burning that always accompanied our intimate encounters.
Aegon seemed to sense my hesitation, pausing briefly to look at me.
His eyes were wild, filled with a mix of anger, jealousy, and desire.
"You're mine," he said again, his voice low and possessive. "Say it."
I swallowed hard, tears still streaming down my face.
"I'm yours," I whispered reluctantly.
It was the truth, whether I wanted to admit it or not.
I belonged to Aegon, bound by duty and circumstance.
With a growl of satisfaction, Aegon pushed himself up and began to remove his own clothing.
As Aegon positioned himself between my legs, I closed my eyes tightly, turning my face away. I couldn't bear to look at him, to see the anger and jealousy etched into his features.
Instead, I focused on the coldness of the sheets beneath me, the ache in my throat where he had choked me.
I tensed as I felt him enter me, biting back a cry of pain. It was as I had feared - after so many years of abstinence, the intrusion was agonizing.
Aegon didn't seem to notice or care, setting a brutal pace as he drove into me again and again.
Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes as I endured his rough lovemaking, my body protesting with each thrust.
The pain was overwhelming, but so was the sense of violation and despair.
This wasn't making love; it was a punishment, a brutal assertion of dominance.
Aegon's movements grew more violent, his grip on my hips bruising as he slammed into me with increasing force.
The bed shook beneath us, the headboard banging against the wall with each thrust.
I cried out in pain, unable to hold back the anguished sounds that tore from my throat.
"You're mine," he snarled, his breath hot against my ear. "Say it again."
"I'm yours," I gasped, my voice barely audible over the sound of our bodies colliding. "Please... Aegon..."
But my pleas only seemed to spur him on, his pace becoming frenzied and uncontrolled.
Tears streamed down my face as I endured his brutal assault, feeling torn apart from the inside out. It was as if he were trying to physically claim me, to mark me as his possession.
Suddenly, Aegon's mouth crashed against mine in a brutal kiss, his tongue forcing its way past my lips. I gagged, overwhelmed by the sensation and the metallic taste of blood - either mine or his, I couldn't tell.
Without warning, he flipped me onto my stomach, pulling my hips up to meet his thrusts from behind.
The new position allowed him to penetrate even deeper, and I screamed into the pillow as pain shot through me.
Aegon's hands gripped my hips tightly as he continued his relentless pace, his fingers digging into my flesh hard enough to leave bruises. His breath came in ragged gasps against the back of my neck, his body slick with sweat.
It was a savage, animalistic coupling - a far cry from the gentle lovemaking we had once shared.
I lay limp and unresponsive beneath Aegon, my body battered and sore. Tears soaked the pillow beneath my face, silent sobs wracking my chest.
Aegon's movements grew more erratic, his grip on my hips tightening to the point of pain.
With a final, brutal thrust, he spilled himself inside me, a guttural groan escaping his lips. For a moment, he remained still, his weight pressing me into the mattress.
Then, without a word, he withdrew and rolled off of me. I stayed where I was, curled on my side and shaking with silent tears.
The sheets were stained with blood and other fluids - evidence of the violence that had just taken place.
After a while, Aegon rose from the bed and began to dress silently. I kept my back to him, unable to bear the sight of his face.
Once he was gone, I finally allowed myself to break down completely, burying my face in the pillow and sobbing uncontrollably.
My body ached with each shuddering breath, a stark reminder of the brutal treatment I had just endured.
As exhaustion claimed me, my tears slowly subsided.
I drifted off to a fitful sleep, haunted by nightmares of Aegon's angry face and the pain that still lingered between my thighs.
The chamber felt cold and empty without him there - a cruel irony considering how desperately I wished for his absence in that moment.