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“Haelena!”
The spider’s eight legs spread out symmetrically, two up and two down on each side of its body, anchoring it to the delicate orb of a web it had just woven.
“Haelena!”
The web swung gently in the breeze, lifting and falling with each touch of wind. Its ethereal threads glistered rainbows in the morning sun.
“Haelena!”
White spots patterned the spider’s abdomen, forming a lengthwise line down its back and a smaller one crossing it. This is why they called it the swordsman spider, a heady name for a stoic creature, patiently waiting for its web to snare a fly or a gnat.
“Haelena!”
Haelena reached out to touch the ephemeral mandala stretching the width of her chamber window. Just one thread, lest its captivating symmetry be perturbed. The sticky silk barely registered on the fingertip. The spider twitched slightly, anticipating a meal. It descended carefully, unsure and discerning with its fuzzy appendages, studying the smallest movements of each thread.
“Haelena!”
A flying object, a rock perhaps, and the spider was no more. A gaping hole filled what was once the toil of an eight legged artist. Haelena closed her eyes. Voices came clawing at her ears.
“Look mom, I hit the spider!” Yelled her brother, Aegon, somewhere behind.
“You could have hit your sister in the head,” Mother scolded him.
Her scolding did little to him.
“Haelena, it’s time to go to the Dragonpit.”
A hand grasped hers, still up in the air, reaching for what was left of the spider’s web, now nearly blown away by the wind. This hand often led her places she didn’t want to be - the Sept, the dining hall, the Dragonpit. Haelena didn’t want to look up at her mother, but the tug on her hand forced her up. All Haelena could do in protest is cry quietly.
“Why are we bringing her? She’s an idiot,” whined Aegon
Haelena kept her eyes closed, the last feeble line of defense she had against him.
“Don’t speak like that to your sister,” Alicent reprimanded him again.
“Why? She doesn’t understand, she can’t even talk,” argued Aegon.
“Mother, can we go see Dreamfyre?” Asked Aemond. His voice prompted Haelena to open her eyes. He was the one who didn’t hurt her, at least while he still was smaller than her. Her younger brother carried a whip with him, as if it could subdue a dragon.
“Yes, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind a snack,” teased Aegon.
“No, we are not going to see Dreamfyre,” ordered Alicent, herding the kids out through the door, still holding Haelena by her hand. She only ever holds her like that. She never held the boys. “The last time you tried to claim her she nearly burned you. She is too big and too dangerous for you, Aemond. Your father said you will get a hatchling once more eggs hatch.”
“I don’t want a hatching. I want a real dragon,” protested Aemond.
He would have one bigger than his brother’s. It’s what he wanted most of all - to surpass Aegon. He would have to close an eye. Haelena saw that in a dream. She saw Amond’s eye closing and a dragon’s narrow-pupiled eye opening in its place. Then, she saw dragons dance and flames swallowing up Aegon. Haelena made a drawing of her dream, but Aegon snatched it and tore it up. He didn’t know and didn’t care. No one cared, but Haelena knew it was true.
Outside, they were joined by a trio of Kingsguard. The clang of their armored footsteps and the racket of their swords hitting against the tassets stabbed at Haelena’s ears unbearably. All she could do was cover them with her palms.
“Will my king husband be joining us, Ser Criston?” Asked Alicent.
“His Grace isn’t feeling well today, My Queen,” he replied. “He wishes to remain in his chambers.”
Alicent didn’t respond to that. She only quickened her pace and pulled Haelena’s hand harder.
Father sometimes came with them to watch Aegon train his dragon, Sunfyre, but his illness made travel to the Dragonpit tiresome for him. Mother resented him for that. She resented bringing the three of them down there by herself. Haelena didn’t understand why they all needed to go since only Sunfyre was big enough to begin training. It’s probably something Father wanted that Mother begrudgingly carried out, like a lot of things. Her and Aemond’s eggs didn’t hatch. Haelena’s youngest brother, Daeron, as well as her nephews, Jace and Luke, had a little hatchling each, too small for training.
The rhythmic rocking of the wheelhouse on the city’s cobblestone was almost soothing. It was okay as long as Aegon and Aemond rode their horses behind them and as long as Haelena didn’t look outside. Outside were the stares of the city folk, who paused their usual hustle to gawk at the royal procession passing by. Outside was the bustle of the city, its chaotic, mismatched gears turning with every sunrise and sunset, oiled with an undercurrent of violence.
It was then, Mother sometimes spoke to her more softly. Haelena sought calm in observing the orderly patterns of the walls and windows. Their unadulterated lines, cross-crossing at right angles sometimes allowed her a fleeting moment of solace.
“The shawl you embroidered with butterflies yesterday looks lovely,” Alicent spoke to her, seeking her eyes. “Septa Desdemone showed it to me today.”
Haelena wasn’t keen to reciprocate her mother’s gaze because when she did, she sometimes saw ash on Mother’s face or smelled smoke.
“You have a talent for the arts,” continued Alicent. “Your brother surely does not truly think you are simple minded.”
Haelena finally turned to her mother. Doesn’t she know she will be the last one left dancing with the dragons?
“If only you’d set aside the bugs and the spiders, and fostered an interest in court life..” said Alicent, trying to catch her fleeting gaze.
Haelena looked away again and closed her eyes. The image of her brothers dancing and turning to ash returned. Everything happening now was only the feast before the dance, full of minds weak with wine.
Haelena wanted to tell her this, but she had no words. Her thoughts were inarticulate and fleeting. Sometimes they rushed through her mind like swarms of hungry locusts. How was she to order them into words and sentences? The sounds she made were not recognizable to Mother or her brothers. This is why Aegon called her an idiot.
***
The Dragonpit was dark, wet and cold. Only rats and cockroaches liked it here. Haelena and Aemond watched as two dragonkeepers led Sunfyre in on a chain. The dragon looked around the arena and gave an expectant squeak when he saw Aegon.
“Doheras, Sunfyre,” reminded him one of the gray-clad men, but the dragon paid him no attention and continued to purr and squeal as Aegon approached him with an outstretched hand. Sunfyre was already big enough for him and his rider to stand face to face. He pushed his nose into Aegon’s palm.
“Good morning, beautiful,” said Aegon, scratching between his dragon’s golden scales. In the faint sunlight filtering in through the small windows high up, Sunfyre looked as though he was covered in golden scarab beetles.
“Yes, I missed you too,” cooed Aegon, stroking the dragon’s neck. Sunfyre proceeded to sniff his rider thoroughly, as if trying to get the story of what he had been up to in their time apart.
“You have to command him in High Valyrian, my prince,” said one of the dragonkeepers.
“Oh, do shut up, old man,” scoffed Aegon. “Better yet, bring a goat. My dragon is hungry. Or, should I feed him you?”
The dragonkeeper walked away, grumbling something in High Valyrian. Haelena watched him disappear in the shadows of a side gate. Aemond kicked the sand covering the ground, giving a show of his dissatisfaction with being made to watch his brother indulge his dragon while he remained without. Mother stayed behind in the wheelhouse. She preferred to converse with Ser Criston while they waited.
Haelena.
Haelena looked around to see who was calling, but the voice wasn’t Mother’s or anyone she knew. The remaining dragonkeeper still held Sunfyre’s chain while Aegon stroked the dragon, who purred under his rider’s touch. Aemond kicked a small hole in the sand. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was a dream.
Haelena.
This time it rang in Helena’s ears like the ghastly bells of the Grand Sept she hated so much. From her ears, the voice wormed into Haelena’s mind - a foreign bug seeking to infest it. It was coming from somewhere deep in the belly of this man-made cavern, but Aemond still stared at the ground, Aegon stroked his dragon, and the dragonkeeper held the end of the chain, his face scowling. None of them seemed to hear it.
Haelena.
This time, the voice was soft and feminine, like that of a grandmother. Or so Haelena would have imagined her grandmother to sound like. Neither was alive for her to ever know for sure. She decided she must be imagining it then, and hearing things she wants to hear.
Haelena.
Haelena covered her ears, trying to banish it. It was another dragon dream coming on. What else could it be, if only she could hear it? She rarely had them while awake, but the waking ones were the most terrifying. She closed her eyes and tried to will it away, but then she heard it again, insistent and encroaching. Its resonant notes entangling her nerves like a spiderweb.
Haelena.
Aegon with Sunfyre, Aemond and the dragonkeeper paid Haelena no attention. She turned and ran, her silk slippers filling with sand. Soon the darkness of a tunnel swallowed her up, punctured only with the fickle light of torches, feebly pushing away at the darkness around. She wanted to run away from whatever it was threatening to lodge itself in her soul irrevocably. Or was it too late?
Haelena.
The call was louder now. Emotions crept in following the path it wrought into Haelna’s mind like ants following their invisible trails. Haelena stopped on the slippery cobblestone and closed her eyes. The soggy darkness of the Dragonpit amplified the pounding of her racing heart and the blood rushing through her head. But then, fear receded and calmness settled. At its source, a kin spirit.
Haelena.
The voice pulsated to the rhythm of Haelena’s heart. It was a part of her now. Helena walked in its direction. Did she want to go there or did the voice compel her? She couldn’t tell anymore. Her steps on the stone were certain and determined. Her velvet dress did little to keep the cold away, but she paid it no attention. Its lace hem soaked up the wetness from the ground.
Haelena.
Haelena turned a corner and saw her, or rather, what little the darkness allowed her to see. The enormous dragoness raised her huge head and opened her maw, dragonfire dawning in her throat, but this wasn’t a threat. Rather, it was an invitation; a beacon for Helena to follow. Haelena was drawn to it like a moth to a candle. The dragoness wanted to see Haelena’s face. Her stare gave Haelena goosebumps, but it wasn’t fear creeping on to her skin, but recognition. The dragon’s eyes beheld her way she wished Mother would. She was the voice calling.
Glad you found me, Haelena.
Haelena watched as the ancient creature shifted in the darkness, the chains binding her neck and feet ringing a sorrowful chime. She had been here for so long on her solitary watch. Yet, it wasn’t the chains keeping her here, but a conviction.
We need each other, Haelena.
Dreamfyre slowly uncurled her long body revealing a clutch of eggs. She was guarding a nest. Five scaly eggs sat neatly arranged in a circle and were bound together with crusty slime. No one could see them or touch them without Dreamfyre’s approval, which she never granted. Helena felt Dreamfyre’s devotion to them as the dragon looked down at her clutch.
Come meet my children.
Haelena slowly came closer, reaching for the closest egg. She felt the egg’s smooth, wet scales under her fingers. It was too dark to tell exactly what color it was. It felt beautiful under Haelena’s touch, but it was cold. It would never hatch. Dreamfyre’s children were dead. Yet, Helena didn’t feel the dragon mourning. To Dreamfyre, they were as alive as her own flesh.
Some day my children will wake from stone and defeat death. I saw it in a dream, like you.
Helena felt Dreamfyre’s hot breath on her skin. The heat felt pleasant and kept the dead cold at bay. She leaned into the dragon’s scaly face. Fire and blood pulsated just underneath her thick armor of scales. It seeped through Haelena’s skin and wrapped her in a pleasant veil.
You will have important things to say. I will give you a voice.
Haelena sought Dreamfyre’s blue eyes in the dim light of torches. What did she mean by that? But then, a memory of a dream appeared before Haelena’s mind. Dreamfyre’s children - three dragons and a silver-haired woman in a field of smoke and ash. She was a hero come again, and Dreamfyre’s children were her Lightbringers. It was for Dreamfyre to safeguard them until this woman threw what was dearest to her in a pyre to wake them from stone.
They held each other’s gaze. Heaelena had dreamed of her children too. She saw them slashed by blades, blood gushing from their wounds. This was why Haelena couldn’t look at her littlest brother, Daeron. She was afraid she’d see raw flesh open across his pale little face and blood in his big, lilac eyes. She closed her eyes, trying to forget this vision, but then she felt Dreamfyre seeking it within her mind. Dereamfyre was listening. No one had ever listened before. Haelena stared at the stone eggs before her. She didn’t want any of this. No one believed in her dragon dreams, even though she knew they were true. What would it do to speak of them?
“Why?”
The echo of Haelena’s voice in the cavernous lair startled her. She covered her mouth with her hands, trying to keep the foreign sound in. She felt Dramfyre’s amusement at her bewilderment. The dragon nudged Haelena’s cheek with her nose. It was gentler than her Mother ever was. The girl embraced it. She felt acceptance warm her heart and tiny sparks of hope faintly flash in her soul, like fireflies on a summer night.
We are the keepers of the twined human and dragon destiny. We are all a part of a story. We have to tell it to fulfill it.
Haelena didn’t need to ask to understand. The pain of having lost her children before, the determination to not let it happen again, the sense of purpose revealed in dreams, it all flooded Haelena’s heart. She was a part of a plan, like Dreamfyre. Aemond’s dragon, Aegon burning, little children slashed and bleeding. Aemond and Daemon falling into the Eye, their dragons locked in a death spiral. All would bleed, even the stars, before Azor Ahai could save them.
All dragons must die before they can be reborn. I will be here when it happens. I will fall with them.
Helena closed her eyes, focusing on the dragon’s thoughts and emotions flooding in and saw it too. Dreamfyre took her fate with quiet resolve. It was all bigger than them. Their part was to hasten it. They took a moment to share this sorrow. All men must bleed. All dragons must perish before life could rise again.
“Who will be their mother when you are dead?” Asked Haelena, still surprised at the taste of words on her lips. Her fingers traced the patterns of the egg’s scales as if they were her daughter’s braids.
From your father’s blood will come the princess that was promised and she will be called the mother of dragons.
Haelena sat in the ground next to the closest egg and curled up next to it, stroking its scales. She wanted to liken herself to it, so Dreamfyre would guard her like her own. Some day, Haelena would stroke her son’s silver hair the same way, before he is taken from her. Dreamfyre wrapped her long tail around them. Haelena closed her eyes and floated away in the embrace of her dragon mother.
***
Alicent paced up the Red Keep’s stone stairway, her dress threatening to trip her up in her velvet slippers.
Women’s clothes were only made to slow us down.
She quickly banished that thought. She needed to find Haelena. She did not return from the Dragonpit with her brothers.
It must have been Aegon. He said something vile to her again and she probably ran away, got lost in that god awful dark maze of tunnels.
Ser Criston joined her just outside the King’s chambers.
“Did they find her?” Asked Alicent, trying to catch her breath.
“Not so far. No bodies have been recovered either,” reported Ser Criston.
“No bodies. I don’t suppose a dragon would leave a body behind,” snapped Alicent, pinning him with her gaze.
Ser Criston didn’t respond to that.
Alicent pushed the door open, to find Viserys in the usual chair, tinkering with his model of Old Valyria. He spent hours working on it every day and paid artisans in golden dragons to craft clay and porcelain pieces that he later arranged in a futile attempt to resurrect the dead metropolis. Or was it Aemma he really wanted to bring back? Either way, he was stuck in the past and oblivious of the present. Alicent had a clay dragon mended after Aemma died, because she knew he would have appreciated it, because her father wanted him to like her. That’s all she could think of every time she saw the clay city grow.
Does this man even know his child is missing?
“Haelena went missing in the Dragonpit. The dragon keepers and kingsguard have been looking for her for over three hours,” said Alicent, approaching her husband.
“I have been informed of that by Lord Lionel,” replied Viserys calmly. “I trust she will be found soon.”
Viserys looked up at her from some piece of the model he had been working on. Only now did Alicent realize how terrible he looked. His face sagged under the weight of a sleepless night. His hair was a tangled, matted mess, thinly covering a scarred and spotted scalp and likening him to a mangy dog. A fresh bandage covered what surely was a new sore festering on his cheek. And yet, the pain in his eyes still stirred pity in her heart. What did he feel for her or Haelena? Did he only ever feel anything for Rhaenyra? The lack of urgency in his voice implied an answer Alicent wouldn’t have liked.
“Don’t you think we should broaden the search? Send the Goldcloaks to search the city,” argued Alicent. “What if she was kidnapped?”
She wanted to grab the man before her and shake him into action or at least any sort of decision. Would he have been so passive if it was Rhaenyra who was missing, or Aegon?
Somehow the thought of Aegon being gone elicited less turmoil in her heart. She even found it enticing.
What kind of abominable mother wishes that on her child.
Alicent never wanted to be a mother - not with this man, but this was the man her father chose for her. Alicent was the woman the King chose for himself, and how could she have disobeyed the King? None of that was their children’s sin. A mother should always love her children, like the Mother above.
Alicent felt guilt turn her stomach.
A lot of their arguments were like this - mostly taking place in Alicent’s head, silenced by the trappings of their positions as King and Queen, shut down by duty above all else.
“Alicent,” began Viserys. “I understand you are distraught, I am worried too…”
Before he could finish, Alicent’s attention turned to a commotion just outside the door. Ser Harrold Westerling, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, along with two dragonkeepers came in the door. Between them walked Haelena. The princess’s dress was sullied in grime and soot. Her silver hair was undone and sticking in messy clumps - not unlike her father’s.
“Where did you find her?” Demanded Alicent’s of Ser Harold.
“She was found wandering the tunnels in the Dragonpit near the dragons’ lairs,” replied the knight.
Alicent took Halena’s hand and pulled her towards herself. Her skin was sticky with some unidentifiable slime. She reeked of dragon. The stench permeated her hair and dress. This dress was ruined for sure. Alicent laid her hands on her daughter’s cheeks and looked into her lavender eyes. For the first time, she wasn’t avoiding her eyes. Alicent clung to this fleeing connection.
“We were so worried about you Haelena,” said Alicent, clinging to her daughter’s gaze. “Where have you been?”
“I was with mother,” replied Haelena calmly.
Alicent’s hands dropped as she took a step back. This was her girl’s voice, forming words and speaking to her. Not crying, not screaming - speaking - for the first time. Alicent remembered waiting for Haelena to speak her first words when the little princess was two, three years old but her words never came, until now. It was beyond Alicent’s comprehension why. All she could think of doing is pulling her little girl for a hug - just not here, in front of the court. Her father, Lord Otto, would not have approved.
Alicent took Haelena’s hand again, and gave it a restrained squeeze.
“I was here the whole time, worrying about you,” said Alicent, seeking her daughter’s eyes again, trying to savor every moment of it. “What mother were you with?”
“Dragon mother."
Haelena slipped out of Alicent’s grasp and stared at the floor.
No, no don’t pull away.
The patter of Viserys’s cane on the wood floor incursed on their fading connection. Alicent tried to hold on to it, but it was gone. Haelena had shut her out again.
“Was it Dreamfyre?” Asked Viserys, hunching over Haelena and seeking her eyes.
“Yes Father,” replied Haelena. “I am hers and she is mine.”
“Well done,” said Viserys. “Alicent, our daughter is a dragon rider. You should be proud of her.”
Are you proud of her? Did you even notice she can speak now?
Viserys walked past Alicent and put his scarred, bony hand on his daughter’s slender shoulder. Haelena looked up at him, mildly startled by her father’s touch.
“She is you and you are her,” he said, looking into Haelena’s eyes. His daughter didn’t break the eye contact. Alicent couldn’t remember the last time Viserys looked at his children like this.
“I know, Father,” said Haelena in her young voice that had just been heard for the first time.
Alicent didn’t understand how the dragon released Harlena from her voiceless prison, but she hoped this would allow Haelena to be more like other young girls - something Alicent hoped and prayed for.
Her prayers have been answered.