Chapter Text
One moment his granddaughter is standing, raising her goblet of watered down arbor gold to toast to Baela and Rhaena, standing unsteadily on slippered feet. The next she is on the floor, screaming, and Otto stands so forcefully that he knocks his chair back into the floor. He screams for the maester, and watches as his daughter is on the floor, cradling Halaena and tilting her body sideways so she does not choke.
Her dreams have always been that, mere dreams, that she imparts cryptically upon moments of her choosing. They have never in all his granddaughter’s thirteen years of life been this violent. The maester finally attends them what feels like ages later. But by then she has awoken and is staring at the King, vacant eyed and shaking.
“The wolves.” whispers Halaena, so softly they all must strain to hear her.
“The wolves.”
“Grey. Red. White.” gasps his granddaughter.
He helps her stand, and watches as she faces Viserys.
“Princess. Lady of Mercy. Faceless Man.”
“Lady. Little Bird. Winter’s Queen.”
“Bastard. Lord Crow. The Prince who was Promised. ” says Halaena
Otto watches how Viserys pales, and sits heavily in his seat as though his legs have given out from under him.
“The wolves, grandfather. The wolves shall come again; Grey. Red. White. Princess. Lady. Bastard. ” snarls Halaena.
She trembles, and then speaks again.
“They will come. And with them they shall bring the winged shadow. The Black Dread Reborn..”