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The red leaves of the weirwood tree glittered like rubies as the warm sunlight streamed through them, a gentle breeze making them sway, the different hues of red and pink mixing and swirling around each other. It was a beautiful day, beautiful enough that Aemma and Helaena had gone outside to do their needlework, something their newly appointed septa had only reluctantly agreed to. Ever since Rhaenyra had left a fortnight ago, things had slowly began to change around court. Queen Alicent appointing a septa to care for her daughters and educate them in the light of the Seven, something Rhaenyra had always vehemently opposed, Viserys having initially been against it as well, wanting every Targaryen to be educated in their own faith, the faith of Old Valyria, but the king had been worn down by his lady wife after his most recent bout of sickness, and the septa had been appointed to mind her and Helaena. Aemma personally didn't mind the woman, Septa Jonelle was kind, if a bit unsure how to handle Helaena's stranger moods. She mostly had them doing exercises in etiquette and needlework, telling them stories of the Faith and having them read passages of the Seven Pointed Star, something they had heard mostly from their mother, before, but were now getting a formal education on. The girls still learned their numbers and history from a maester and were educated on the finer points of politics and the running of a household by their mother herself, when she found the time. So, Septa Jonelle really didn't do all that much with them, she was more of a glorified nanny which told them how to sit right and to mind their stitches. Well, she told Aemma those things, Helaena having always had her perfectly straight, almost too stiff, posture and being better at embroidery than a master seamstress, her stitches fine and neat and perfectly symmetrical. While the subjects of her embroidery were mostly insects, Helaena's needlework was always done in stunning detail with beautiful colors and breathtaking intricacies. Yes, she may have spiders and dragonflies scuttling across the skirts of her dresses, but no one could deny that they were still beautiful. Aemma, as opposed to that, still did simple things, her stitches nowhere near as perfect as her sister's. Her dresses were embroidered with simple geometric shapes and clunky, child-like dragons and flowers. She was clumsy with the needle, the fabric never behaving like she wanted it to and she often got scolded for pulling the threads too tightly, especially when she got frustrated, which ruined fine fabrics.
This inability was, of course noted by court, and coupled with her plain features and gangly, too long limbs, as well as her untameable hair, earned her many a mean nickname. Helaena was the opposite of her, in that regard. She was always neat and tidy, her hair perfectly plaited and her dresses falling just right. Helaena was beautiful and delicate, she danced well and excelled in her studies, she was the perfect princess, if one ignored her oddities. Aemma was thankful for her older sister's strange nature, she would probably hate her otherwise, her being everything that she could not be. Helaena's weirdness made her an outcast as much as Aemma's unfortunate appearance and inherent clumsiness did, she was grateful for it, the jealousy would kill her, otherwise. She was even grateful for Rhaenyra's difficult nature, her arrogance and self-assuredness that alienated many a courtier, the blatant flaunting of her bastards (were they bastards? Aemma was still unsure) made her the subject of mockery as well, just like Helaena was, just like Aemma was. There was no perfect princess in the House of the Dragon and Aemma was grateful for it, for she did not want to be jealous and hateful towards her sisters over her own shortcomings.
“You sing better than I do. You are generally better at music and you can draw.”, Helaena suddenly piped up, not looking up from the centipede she was embroidering.
Aemma blinked, looking up from the slightly misshapen rose she was working on.
“What?”
Helaena met her gaze then, something she rarely did, mostly because people found her all-knowing stare unsettling.
“Don't think less of yourself. You are pretty and you sing beautifully and you draw better than anyone.”
Aemma looked away, a blush crawling up her neck. She had no idea how she did it, but Helaena always knew when she was sad and just what to say to cheer her up. Even if Helaena were the perfect princess and adored by everyone, Aemma somehow doubted that she could hate her, after all, she loved her far too much for that.
“Thank you... that centipede looks great, I'm almost scared it's going to crawl off the fabric.”
Her sister smiled, pale eyes lighting up with joy, but then dimming all of a sudden, her sight clouding over in that way that meant something strange and prophetic was going to come out of her mouth at any moment.
“The sun will blind you.”, she said, making Aemma frown and look up, fluffy white clouds obscuring the sun at that moment as if to prove Helaena's words false.
“The clouds are covering the sun, sweet sister, and anyway, I don't plan on staring at it long enough to go blind.”, she had hoped the bit of humor would shake Helaena out of her trance, but it didn't, her face still eerily blank.
“The sun will blind you.”, she repeated, lifting a hand and tracing Aemma's left eye with a cold finger, her cadence changed to a strange sing-song as she continued, making goosebumps raise on the younger girl's skin, “One eye closed, one heart gained. One eye closed, a dragon tamed.”
As abruptly as it had come, it was gone, Helaena's eyes clearing and the girl bowing over her embroidery as if nothing had happened.
“Helaena...”, she choked, her voice stolen by fright, but her sister didn't look up as she placed the next stitch. It was uneven, her hands were shaking to much for her stitches to be as neat as they usually were.
“I don't know. I never know what they mean. I'm sorry.”, the older girl whispered and Aemma swallowed her dread.
Fretting would do nothing, she knew from experience, her sister's dragondreams always came true, whether one tried to puzzle out the meaning and prevent them, or left them be. Helaena's prophecies were inevitable, whatever fate had planned for her, Aemma would be unable to escape.
Swallowing thickly, the princess began placing her stitches again, stitches she later got berated for, though she didn't listen to the scolding, her mind on her impending doom and whether she would still be able to draw after the sun had stolen her eyesight.
…