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He had almost forgotten. It was rare that Viserys spent any time at all with his children by Alicent, such was his grief all these years after Aemma. He had seen her as they dined one evening however, the girl of 11, staring at her brother as she moved a hand to and from her eye, mimicking the eye patch he now was forced to wear.
He remembered his own dream, his son sat on the Iron Throne, a great tourney being hosted as lances splintered and hooves thundered along the tilts. He had thought it to be Baelon, his dear boy that had cost him Aemma, but now, upon their return from Driftmark and the horrors that had occurred there, he saw things differently.
It took weeks of building up the courage, the thoughts ringing around his head, how to begin a relationship after years of neglect. Finally though, he found himself outside of his youngest daughters chambers and with a deep breath, entered the room.
She was kneeling on the floor, some sort of insect crawling happily around her skirts. “Black of wing.” She muttered. “Grass of red. Seed split in two, and dragons roar as widows weep.”
“Helaena.” Viserys interrupted, feeling awful as the girl looked up at him in shock, her eyes wide in fright.
“Father.” She responded. “I… I did not see you.” She turned back to the bug, muttering words that Viserys could barely hear other than a couple, ‘change’ and ‘wrong’.
“What is wrong, sweetling?” He asked, moving over to her armchair to manoeuvre himself down. Helaena simply stared up at him, bug eyed. “The dreams are a gift, child. I myself had one, it is difficult to describe to those that do not see.”
Helaena cocked her head slightly as she seemed to be mulling the words over. “Seeing. One man’s gift is another man’s curse. Fighting, drinking, burning, dreams all lead to the same end.” She then perked up slightly as she picked up the insect and placed it back in its jar before stopping still, and Viserys saw her shoulders begin to tremble. “Don’t marry me to him. It will cause nothing but death.”
“To whom?” He asked with barely a whisper.
“Aegon. It brings nought but death to us all.” She replied, confirming Viserys’ suspicions. He had only had the one dream, as had Aegon, but Daenys had filled a book with dreams. Was it the women? Seeing the undeniable proof in Helaena that his dream meant something had told him that perhaps he was wrong, that Aegon could be moulded into the foretold Targaryen, but Helaena sharing Daenys’ gift… It is Rhaenyra. She is the one.