Chapter Text
The Red Keep thrummed with life that night, its halls alive with the echoes of laughter, clinking goblets, and the raucous chatter of lords and ladies. The smell of roasted meats and spiced wine lingered in the air, mingling with the faint tang of salt carried in from Blackwater Bay. Beneath the grand banners of House Targaryen, the royal family celebrated yet another feast, though the occasion seemed little more than an excuse for indulgence.
At the high table, King Viserys Targaryen sat slouched in his chair, his face flushed from drink. Alicent Hightower sat stiffly beside him, her green gown pristine and her sharp eyes scanning the hall. Though her smile was practiced, her fingers gripped her goblet tightly, betraying her unease.
At one end of the room, her daughter, Helaena Targaryen, sat quietly. Just nine years old, the girl was a pale shadow of her vivacious brothers, Aegon and Aemond, who reveled in the festivities. Helaena’s head was bowed over a small wooden carving of a beetle she had been working on for days. Her soft whispers to herself were drowned out by the noise of the crowd.
“She’s talking to herself again,” Aegon sneered, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. He was only a few years older than her, but his words carried the sting of superiority. Aemond, thinner and quieter, simply observed, his single eye narrowing.
“Leave her be,” Alicent murmured, though her tone lacked conviction.
Across the room, young Jacaerys Velaryon sat at his mother Rhaenyra’s side. The heir to Dragonstone was eleven, his dark brown curls and earnest face a blend of his Velaryon heritage and his mother’s Targaryen blood. He had spent most of the evening observing the royal family. His gaze often wandered to the girl sitting at the edge of the high table, away from the laughter and celebration.
“Who is she?” Jace asked his mother.
Rhaenyra glanced over, her expression softening. “Your aunt, Helaena. Viserys and Alicent’s daughter.”
Jace frowned. “She looks… sad.”
“She is quiet,” Rhaenyra replied. “But don’t mistake that for weakness. She is her mother’s daughter.”
But Jace wasn’t so sure. Rising from his seat, he approached the high table, weaving through the crowd. He ignored the curious stares and whispers, his focus entirely on the small, hunched figure. As he drew closer, he heard her murmuring softly, her words like fragments of an ancient melody.
“It has eight legs,” Helaena whispered to the beetle in her hands. “Spindly legs. But if you pull them off, it doesn’t cry. Not like people do…”
Jace knelt beside her, his voice low and kind. “What are you making?”
Helaena started, her wide lavender eyes meeting his. For a moment, she seemed unsure how to respond.
“A beetle,” she said at last, holding up the carving. “It’s… fragile. It dies so easily.”
Jace smiled. “You made it well. Do you carve often?”
Helaena’s lips curved upward, almost imperceptibly. “Sometimes. I like small things. Things that don’t speak.”
“Why?” he asked.
“They don’t lie.”
Jace was taken aback but didn’t press further. Instead, he looked at the table in front of her. “You’re not eating. Are you not hungry?”
“The food is fine,” she said. “But they laugh too much here. It hurts my ears.”
Jace looked over his shoulder at the boisterous lords and knights. “It is noisy,” he admitted. “Do you want to go somewhere quieter?”
Helaena hesitated. She had never been approached like this, not even by her brothers. But there was a warmth in Jace’s eyes, a sincerity that made her feel seen for the first time. Slowly, she nodded.
The two slipped away unnoticed, finding their way to the castle gardens. Beneath the canopy of stars and the light of the full moon, the sounds of the feast faded into a distant hum. They sat together on a stone bench, and Helaena spoke of her dreams, her fascination with creatures, and the omens she saw in her visions.
“Do you think dragons dream?” she asked suddenly.
Jace tilted his head. “Maybe. Vermax dreams of flying, I think. He twitches sometimes, as if chasing something.”
Helaena smiled. “Dreamfyre sleeps still. But in my dreams, she roars louder than anything I’ve ever heard.”
Jace studied her, captivated by her peculiar nature. “You’re different from anyone I’ve met,” he said quietly. “That’s not a bad thing.”
For the first time, Helaena’s smile reached her eyes. “You’re not like them either,” she replied.
Their connection deepened that night, as they spoke of dragons, dreams, and the weight of being born to a family that demanded too much. From a window above, Alicent watched them with narrowed eyes.
“They’re just children,” Otto Hightower said beside her.
“Children grow,” Alicent replied. “And Jacaerys Velaryon is no ordinary boy.”
Her hand tightened around the cold stone of the windowsill. Already, she saw the seeds of trouble being sown.
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