A/N: Rhys Ifans (Otto Hightower) plays Helaena Targaryen's grandfather... but also was Luna Lovegood's father in the Deathly Hallows movies. Helaena and Luna also have a lot of similarities. That's... that's literally the whole reasoning behind this fic.
There's gonna be three parts to this. It's gonna follow canon from the show and books. Don't read chapter three if you don't want to be spoiled for season 2 of HOTD. (But also that doesn't come out until 2024 so... oof.)
Helaena's friend has been in the Red Keep for as long as she can remember.
In fact, her earliest memory is of the blonde woman. Her hair is so white, her skin so pale that she could pass as Targaryen– if not for the amount she smiled. Even at her young age, Helaena knows none of her family smiles as much as her friend does.
Then again, the only blonde woman in her family is her eldest sister, and Rhaenyra avoids her like the plague.
Tiny Helaena does not care about this fact now, though. Her friend's kind smile and warm voice as she hums Helaena to sleep are the most important things to the small girl.
Her friend reminds Helaena of the princesses in her storybooks, those of Old Valyria. Her eyes may be closer to blue than violet, but they shimmer with ancient and forgotten power. Her shoulders are always drawn back like a proper lady, but the breeches she wears go against everything Helaena's septas say is feminine.
When Helaena is old enough to mind her manners, she finally thinks to ask her friend's name.
The woman's laughter sounds like the tinkling of bells. "Luna, dearest."
"Of what house?" Helaena does not know many houses, but she knows her father's house wears black and red, while her mother's favors green and gold. Luna wears blues and silvers and bronze, and Helaena does not see any others in the Keep clad in such colors. "I am learning with the septas!"
It is not the first time Helaena has seen Luna be sad, but it is the first time her smile has fully faded. "Westeros is not my home, little one, but I wish you could go there. You could be happy there, if such a thing were possible."
Helaena looks up at Luna, mouth curved into a pout. "But I am happy here with Egg, and Mund and Mama and you!"
A shadow crosses Luna's face but is hidden as she crouches to kiss Helaena's head. "And I hope you will be until the end."
The only ends Helaena knows of are in the stories she's told. In these early days, no one would dare tell anything other than a happy ending to the little princess.
Helaena has her first vision at the age of five.
She hears laughter and the crackling of embers, so similar to those beneath the egg that Aemond has always tried to hatch. She hears a steady dripping, like that of the loose rafter outside her window. She sees ripples of green light, battling against the black depths of the deeper water in the unknown lake.
For such innocent things, Helaena does not know why they strike such sorrow and fear in her heart.
Luna is seated in front of her with crossed legs when the world comes back into focus around her.
"You did well for your first vision, dearest," Luna smiles up at her encouragingly. Helaena is glad she does not presume to reach out and hug her without any warning, much like her mother does.
"Vision?" All she knows of visions are what her mother's family and the faithful of the Seven extoll. They tell of words spoken with the Seven-Who-Are-One, usually in rooms of stinking perfumes that threaten to choke her.
Luna's eyes seem to flicker over her form, but Helaena knows she is truly seen by her friend. Her own gaze does quite the same, seeing not what others wish her to focus on, but what she deems most important to her own world.
"Your father's family calls them dragon dreams. " Luna tilts her head, her braided silver hair falling behind her shoulder. It reminds Helaena much of a dragon's tail. She wonders when she will have a dragon. Only when Luna responds does she realize she's asked aloud. "I imagine it will be one much like yourself, as the connections between dragons and Valyrians are quite like familiars."
"What's familiar about them, Luna?"
The sound of footsteps against the carpets of her nursery reaches her ears far later than if they'd been on the cold stone of the outside halls.
"Who are you speaking to, Helaena?" Her septa's voice is curt. Helaena cringes, likening the censure to a slap. She's already been told that imaginary companions were not suitable for a princess of her age.
She glances back toward Luna. Luna winks, and everything is alright for now.
"Why can't the others see you?" Helaena finally asks one day. "It is that they are not Valyrian?"
Luna watches her carefully. "If that were true, then why have your siblings not seen me?"
Her friend does make a true point. "Do I have magic, then?" Perhaps that is what visions meant…
"Of a sort," Luna agrees.
"But no one else? Not even with our dragons?"
"Magic strengthens and weakens in this world," Luna sighs. "I believe partly due to how women and men forget the lessons taught from those before them."
Helaena hums absentmindedly. "Lessons in family, lessons in blood. The ink dries with false words." She blinks rapidly and straightens her back. "Have you any lessons for me?"
"History is written by the victors," Luna intones.
"You speak as if you know war."
Luna smiles sadly.
Helaena wishes she smiled happily more often.
"Jacerys is nice to me," Helaena murmurs as she works on her needlework. "Mother won't allow our betrothal."
Luna sits on the table, forever beyond the sight of others. Not for the first time, Helaena dreams of doing as Luna does: wearing trousers, dancing in the halls, sitting on tables.
It is only a fleeting fantasy. She remains in her plush seat, obediently toiling away on a delicate but worthless bauble. It reminds her of the gleam in her family's eyes when they look at her… at least, everyone but Aemond.
She knows she cannot have Jacerys, she knows she is promised to Aegon. But of her brothers, it is not Aegon who listens to her speak about the creatures that catch her attention. It is not Aegon who moves to defend her when the girls sent to be her ladies-in-waiting make jokes behind her back. It is not Aegon whose eyes track her across a room when she enters.
"Jacerys would be kind to you," Luna agrees, urging her on gently to continue her thoughts.
"Yes, but perhaps I will be allowed to have Aemond instead," Helaena whispers, her lips curving upwards at the mere thought.
"Sometimes, happiness is more honorable than the duty others expect of you," Luna advises.
Helaena's dreams have grown darker as the years have passed. Maybe choosing the path that lightens her heart will have her dreams become lighter in turn.
"You will have a dragon, Aemond," her mother consoles, her voice tinged with desperation. She does not truly understand, and never will. The world acknowledges this, as Helaena has never heard her mother called Alicent Targaryen.
The words slip from her lips before she can think. "He'll have to close an eye."
She knows she has doomed her brother.
Luna's hand rests softly on her shoulder. Helaena does not move away.
When Aemond returns to their family's quarters on Driftmark with a wound across the left side of his face and lacking his eye, Helaena hugs him for the first time. His head rests against her shoulder and he shakes in her arms as silent tears of pain and rage take him over.
Helaena meets Luna's gaze over her brother's shoulder. It is the first time she sees her friend look wary.
"He will not forget this."
I know, Helaena mouths back.
"I'm sorry."
For what?
"For the lengths he will go to."
Helaena watches her leave the room. It is the first time Luna has ever left her side.
She clings to Aemond a little tighter than before.
She marries Aegon.
Her tears are not of joy.
Aemond's drunkenness is not from celebration.
Aegon's attentions bring nothing but pain.
Luna helps Helaena wash the blood off her thighs come morning. She will not allow anyone else to touch her.
"Thank you," she whispers.
Luna shakes her head. "I am always here for you , Helaena. No one else."
Had anyone else said that, any of her family or her servants or their bannermen said such a thing, Helaena would have known them to be lying.
With Luna, she knows it is true.
"Where are you from, Luna?" Helaena asks as she stares at the curtains draped around her bed. She is curled under her bedsheets, the toll of pregnancy forcing her to retreat to bedrest early on. The maesters say she is having twins and from the size of her belly, Helaena cannot disagree.
Luna shifts slightly where she lays on the (otherwise empty) left side of the bed. "Far away, dearest."
"How far?"
Her friend is silent for so long that Helaena wonders if she's fallen asleep. "Somewhere you can never go, I'm afraid." She raises her hand towards the ceiling, her fingers tracing invisible patterns. "A place where a lonely little girl went to school in a magical castle and found friends that became her family. Where a little boy with a lightning scar taught her to dance, a girl with fiery hair taught her to be brave, and a shy boy who loved plants taught her to laugh." Helaena's eyes widen as sparks begin to trail behind the shapes Luna draws with her fingers. "A place where those children all became soldiers in a war, where the boy with the lightning scar sacrificed himself to save us."
Helaena's vision goes blurry as she sees bright green eyes, black cloaks, a scarred hand holding a wooden stick that glows bright red at its tip. "For neither can live while the other survives," she murmurs, her head pounding.
Luna freezes, the shimmering triangle symbol settling into the air above them as her hand held her position. "So there is a connection." She hums thoughtfully.
Helaena does not know what that means, but she understands that Luna cannot answer her question in any way she will comprehend.
"Who are you?" She settles for asking instead.
Luna laughs. It's a light sound and reminds Helaena of bells. "My name is Luna Lovegood, and I'm a witch."
Witches are a thing of stories and nightmares in Westeros. The woods witches that practice unknown magics of the old ways, preying on unsuspecting wish-seekers. The blood mages of Valyria, who led to the Doom. The fire priestess' of the Red God in Essos. They all carry tales of caution, of what dangers magic can lead to.
Helaena looks at Luna, her witch with hair that shines like the moon– so similar to her own– and all she feels is hope.