Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, Game of Thrones, House of the Dragon, nor any of George RR Martin's works

Rated M for strong language, violence, adult content, adult situations, incest, age-gap relationships, and some sexual content

Trigger warnings: depiction of suicide, mentions of suicidal thoughts, mentions of sexual assault

Enjoy

Storm's End, 130 AC...

Daella pulled her thick wool cloak tighter around her shoulders. The sky had grown dark despite it being early afternoon. The brewing storm brought an icy wind that seemed to seep into the bones. Silverwing hissed at the weather. Daella soothed her as best she could, but the she-dragon despised the cold. Ser Arryk followed dutifully behind. He was definitely the more serious of the twin brothers as many jokes Daella made seemed to go right over the knight's head. But he seldom complained. Ride a dragon? No issue. Trek through the Dornish Marshes and suffer dozens of mosquito bites? No problem. Not even the ghost stories Lord Dondarrion shared one night while they camped outside Blackhaven could rile any sort of emotion from the Kingsguard.

Baratheon guards escorted them inside the castle. Lord Borros greeted her with open arms and a large smile. "Welcome back, Princess. How was Tarth?"

"Lovely, actually," she said.

"Good. I have prepared a feast for your return to mark the end of your progress of the Stormlands. Come."

Daella would've preferred a warm bed instead, but she gave the proud lord a polite smile and thanked him. She dismissed Ser Arryk so that he could eat before having to stand guard at dinner. In her room, a Baratheon handmaid helped her clean up. Daella opted to remain in trousers and changed into a clean red silk shirt with gold and black dragon embroidery. The castle was warm inside but Daella couldn't shake the chill she had. The handmaid gave her a wool vest with fox fur around the shoulders. It helped, and Daella prayed that Silverwing would feel it too.

The feast was modest which Daella appreciated. The last five months had been a blur of faces, feasts, complaints, and flattery. Lord Borros sat at the head of the table with his wife and daughters on his left side. Daella took the lone seat on the right. Other local lords and Baratheon cousins were gathered below them, laughing and drinking. "How did you find Nightsong, Princess?" Lady Elenda asked.

"Very welcoming," Daella admitted. " Lord Royce took me to see Vulture's Roost as well as the old battlegrounds from the Third Dornish War. He told me how your great-grandfather was instrumental in the defeat of the Vulture King."

Elena beamed proudly. "House Caron has guarded the Prince's Pass for generations. One of my ancestors even-"

"No one wants to hear that story," Borros said, waving his hand dismissively. Elenda's smile fell and she sat back. Her eldest daughter, Cassandra, patted her arm comfortingly.

"Well, I'm interested in hearing it. Lord Royce told me many stories, but something tells me-"

Borros slapped his hand on the table. "When do you plan to return to King's Landing?"

Daella furrowed her brows, her own smile faltering. "On the morrow. Though if this storm takes a turn for the worst, you may be stuck with me a little longer."

"Storm's End sees storms like this all the time. It won't last the night," he said. "I shall like to offer you a proper escort back home. The Kingswood is dense. Bandits and robbers are known to infest the forests."

"That's...very kind of you, my lord, but I will be flying back to King's Landing," she reminded. "And I have Ser Arryk, my sworn protector."

Elenda lowered her hands to her lap, looking anywhere but at the princess. Her four daughters stared at their father and Daella with wide, expectant eyes. Lord Borros gently tapped a finger on the table. "Hosting you has been a tremendous honor, Princess. Supporting your tour of the Stormlands, and providing food and shelter to you, a Kingsguard, and your dragon...one could argue it is a great favor House Baratheon has bestowed."

Daella sat back in her seat, seeing the proud lord in a different light. She had been waiting for this conversation since she began the tour. Lord Borros had been a little too polite, a little too accommodating...the complete opposite of what she had been told about him. "One could also argue that as a vassal of House Targaryen, it is your duty to host me."

Borros gave her a thin smile. Daella sighed, her shoulders dropping a bit. "How would you have me return your favor, Lord Borros?"

"It's my understanding that your sister, Princess Helaena, has an empty household." He gestured to his daughters. "Cassandra and Maris will make excellent companions for her."

Cassandra and Maris bowed their heads, sweet smiles on their faces. Daella resisted the urge to recoil at his request. Helaena would rather face the bandits in the Kingswood. "I must admit...I'm a bit hesitant to take your daughters from their home at such a young age."

"It would be an honor to serve and befriend Princess Helaena," Cassandra said. Her blue eyes sparkled in a way that made Daella suspicious.

"My eldest daughters are both of marriageable age," Borros explained. "Your brothers, Prince Aemond and Prince Daeron are un-betrothed. It is high time House Targaryen and House Baratheon bound themselves together."

"We already have that bond, my lord. Your grandmother was also my great-great-grandmother, Queen Alyssa Velaryon," she said. "And Princess Rhaenys' mother was your aunt, Jocelyn Baratheon. If it's a connection to the crown you seek, you have it through the princess' grandson, Prince Jacaerys."

Borros stared at her. "You asked how you can return the favor for my generosity and this is it, Princess. Bring my daughters to court with you."

Daella glanced at Cassandra and Maris, their eager faces making her uneasy. And Elenda still would not meet her gaze. Tired and not wanting to argue with her "gracious" host, Daella downed her wine. "As you wish, my lord."

King's Landing, two weeks later...

Alicent stood on the balcony overlooking the main courtyard as she sipped her wine. Aemond was training with Ser Criston. The sound of blunt blades hitting one another reverberated through the air. Near the stairs, Helaena was watching with her new ladies. Even from fifty feet above, Alicent could see her daughter's discomfort and boredom. The Queen thought it would do Helaena good to have human friends. You are too old for bugs anyhow. Aemond got the upper hand on Ser Criston and the Baratheon girls clapped, cheering on the young prince. Helaena didn't even bother joining in.

"There you are."

Alicent glanced over her shoulder to see her father approaching. He had a familiar smirk on his face. The kind that indicated he wanted to discuss something that would undoubtedly upset her. Otto settled beside her and gazed down at the yard. "Princess Daella has done us a great service in bringing Lord Borros' daughters to court."

"Lord Borros wants what every lord wants," she said with a sigh. "First it was the Lannister girls then the Tyrell twins and now this..." she paused to take another sip "...perhaps we ought to consider betrothing Aemond to Cassandra. Pull the Stormlands to our side."

Otto hummed in disagreement. "Cassandra is a fine match, but she pales in every way to Daella. A Targaryen princess, a dragonrider, and a warrior in her own right."

"Have you seen the way they act towards one another of late?" she asked, irritated. "I feared war was going to break out at dinner last night. They cannot stand to be in the same room together let alone marry each other."

"They are still young."

"Daella is eighteen," she reminded. "The longer we wait, the less likely your plan will work. My hope for them is nearly spent."

Otto considered her worry. He glanced down at his grandson. "Nothing we could say would ever sway Daella to see reason, so...it must come from Aemond himself. I will speak to him."

"Lord Borros is a proud man. He will expect a betrothal for one of his daughters."

He smiled condescendingly. "There is always Daeron."

That night...

Daella rolled onto her side. She had missed her bed terribly. It had just the right amount of softness and support and had a slight bounce. Daella used to jump on the bed with her nephews much to the dismay of her sister. The memories of Rhaenyra and her sons made her insides twist and Daella rolled onto her other side. She hadn't properly slept since returning home. As she expected, Helaena was not happy with her new "friends", and their overly polite and aggressive nature only made things worse. Daella caught sight of the trio watching Aemond train earlier and rescued Helaena as any elder sister would, leaving the Baratheon girls to gawk and giggle at the young prince.

Aemond...Daella internally sighed. They hadn't said a word to each other since her return. But she refused to be the first to concede to their silent cold war. Especially with the way he so viciously glared at her.

A chill ran up her spine and she sat up. She surveyed her room, searching for the unknown presence. But there was no one. Her door was closed. The candles all snuffed out. No shadows. Daella turned to her left and screamed. "Helaena!" She had nearly punched her sister. "What the fuck are you doing?!"

Helaena stared at her, trembling. A look of terrible dread on her face. Daella threw the sheets off and scooted to the edge of the bed. Her hands hovered over her sister, unsure if it was safe to touch her. "Helaena? What's wrong? What happened?"

"I...I couldn't," she choked. Tears poured down her face as her gaze shifted far away. "I can't..."

Daella scanned her body. Helaena was in her nightgown, the tie on the front undone. There was no blood or injury that she could see but Daella suspected the worst. "What happened? Did someone hurt you? Was it Aegon? Helaena, tell me what he did."

Helaena buried her face in her hands as she shook her head violently. "I can't do it. I won't do it!"

"Do what? Helaena, tell me what happened."

Helaena suddenly grabbed onto Daella's shoulders, lunging so close that their faces nearly collided. Violet eyes bored into violet eyes. "I saw it all! Green desires breed black pyres. A dragon has three heads, not four...a debt is owed and Death is owed."

Daella gently pushed her away, but Helaena's grip was firm. "What? I don't understand."

"Green desires breed black pyres! A childless mother, a Queen of scars, dragons burning, dragons drowning, what is dead may never die!" Helaena fell to her knees and wept, burying her face in Daella's lap. "I saw it happen! It's going to happen...all because of me."

"What?"

"If I bear a son...I can't do it. I won't do it." She grasped at Daella for dear life. "I've tried so hard to stay away. But he always finds me. He always finds me!"

Daella tried to hug her but Helaena fought her off, crawling backwards. "I can't do it. I won't do it," she cried. "Don't make me. Please...sister, please...don't let him near me. Don't let him have me. I can't...I can't take it anymore. I don't want to...please...I cannot bear this pain. It's too much."

"Helaena," she whispered. Daella slid off the bed and knelt in front of her, placing her hands on Helaena's knees. "I won't let him touch you ever again. I swear."

Fresh tears poured from her as Helaena threw herself into Daella's arms, letting her despair flow from her uninhibited. Daella stroked her hair, gently hushing her. She waited for the doors to open. To see Alicent or Ser Otto or even Ser Criston burst into the room. For them to see the consequences of their schemes, to see Aegon for what he was, to see Helaena's pain. Hours passed and Daella held onto her sister, slowly realizing...no one was coming.

The Queen's chambers, two days later...

"The Princess' mood has greatly improved," Orwyle reported. "After much-needed rest, she told me she feels calm. Her dreams have been disturbing her of late."

"Thank you, Grand Maester," Alicent said. "I'm relieved to hear she's recovering."

Daella quietly left the room, unwilling to hear another word. She had come to her stepmother's room out of obligation. The Queen had ordered Helaena confined to her own room and Aegon was put elsewhere. No one was allowed to see her. Daella acknowledged the few lords that greeted her as she walked by them. Her thoughts were dark clouds of worry. For Helaena, for her father who had a terrible coughing fit when he heard the news of Helaena's distress. She considered writing to Rhaenyra, but when she pressed her quill to parchment, she found herself with nothing to say. I don't know how to fix this...

She turned towards the main hallway that led to the drawbridge separating the Holdfast from the greater castle. Someone was sitting beneath a Norvoshi tapestry with an empty wineskin on the floor next to them. As she drew closer, Daella's fury bubbled in her throat. Her brother gave no indication he had sensed her approach. He sat with his head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. Many ideas popped into her head. Dark and terrible things that would condemn her to the lowest ring of the Seven Hells. She forced herself to remain calm. "What did you do?"

He raised his head. His eyes were red, from wine and tears. "I don't know."

"She fled from you...came to my room, in tears, seeking my protection," she said slowly. "Tell me now...what did you do?"

He groaned, leaning his head back against the wall. "I-I don't know. I just...I had a lot to drink and I wanted to...to feel something so I went to her."

Daella swallowed, clenching her fists. "Did you force yourself on her?"

"...no."

"Aegon?"

"No," he said firmly. He met her gaze but she could see the uncertainty in his eyes. "She was just laying there like she always does and then she...something frightened her. I don't know what it was, or if it was something I did, but she pushed me off and ran from the room. I don't remember anything after I hit the floor."

Daella put a hand to her stomach and took deep breaths, feeling bile rising within. She didn't know what to think. She didn't know what to do. Aegon sniffled, tears blurring his vision as he studied his sister's reaction. "Please, believe me. I haven't...I would never hurt her."

She shook her head, unable to look at him. Her lip trembled with words she could not say. Then a piercing scream ripped through the hall. They both turned toward the exit and then exchanged confused glances. Another scream and a cry for the guards. Daella picked up her skirts and took off running. The cold air hit her like a slap in the face. Servants and guards were gathering around the moat of spikes that separated the two castles. A few handmaids were turned away, covering their mouths to silence their cries. Daella pushed through the crowd, forcing her way to the edge. Ser Erryk shot his arm out, stopping her from going any further. "Don't look, Princess."

But she did. Down below, a woman's body was impaled on several spikes, holding her up like some distorted puppet. Her nightgown billowed in the wind. She had landed face-first. A large spike protruded through her head, dying her silver hair red. Daella screamed in horror.

Outskirts of King's Landing, four days later...

Aegon stood silently at the head of the funeral progression. He stood beside the King who leaned heavily on his cane. House Targaryen was gathered around them. Queen Alicent was flanked on either side by her youngest sons, crying stoic tears. Rhaenyra stood with Daella, a comforting arm wrapped around her while Daemon stood silently behind them. The day was dreary. A perfect reflection of the tragic loss they've all suffered. Princess Helaena's body lay atop a large funeral pyre, wrapped in Targaryen and Hightower-colored silk. Sunfyre sat atop the mound to the left, guarded by the dragonkeepers. The golden dragon stared at Aegon, whining softly from the pain his rider felt.

The widower prince hung his head and stepped closer to the pyre. A lone tear fell. From grief or guilt, he did not know. He glanced at Sunfyre. "Drakarys!"

Sunfyre climbed down and set the pyre ablaze. Aegon backed away, the heat overwhelming him. He noticed Viserys staring at him, a strange look on his face. Something akin to empathy. He waited for his father to say something, a spark of hope fluttering in his chest. But the king turned away and the spark died.

The wake was held in the godswood. The King and Queen sat on a bench in tense silence. Viserys held Alicent's hand, stroking her knuckles with his thumb every so often to keep her present. Rhaenyra tentatively made her way to them, ignoring the scornful glare of Ser Criston. "Father," she greeted. Her gaze shifted to Alicent. "I'm so sorry for your loss, my Queen. Helaena was...the world is sadly a darker place without her."

Alicent snapped her glare to the princess, expecting her words to be a slight, but saw the sincerity in her stepdaughter's eyes. Her anger cooled, leaving only grief. "Thank you, Princess. Your presence here means a lot."

Rhaenyra gave her old friend a comforting smile. Viserys smiled himself, feeling his pain ease a bit. "We have missed you dearly, my girl."

As they talked, Lady Cassandra weaved her way through the crowd to the food table. She had been searching for the younger Targaryen princes all day, but Prince Daeron was always surrounded by Hightowers and Prince Aemond was elusive when he wasn't tending to the Queen. Cassandra worried about her position. With Princess Helaena gone and Princess Daella most likely leaving on another progress, Cassandra was almost certain she and Maris would have to return to Storm's End. That thought made her grab a lemon cake and stuff the whole thing in her mouth. Sweets always made her feel better.

She caught a glimmer of silver hair out of the corner of her eye. In the shadows on the far end of the food tables, Prince Aegon was sitting by his lonesome. He had a pitcher of wine beside him and a goblet in his hand. Cassandra glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed the widower, but the guests were all preoccupied with their own conversations to notice the grieving prince. She cleaned her face and made her way over, clasping her hands behind her back. "My condolences for your loss, my prince."

He pursed his lips and gave a half-hearted nod. "Thank you." He looked up at her and frowned. "Who are you?"

"Lady Cassandra Baratheon," she said with a curtsy. "I was lady-in-waiting to Princess Helaena."

Aegon sighed and poured more wine into his cup. "I did not know her very well, I'm sad to admit," she continued, "but I do know the princess was well loved."

"Yes, she is...was." He pressed a hand to his eyes, inhaling sharply to keep himself calm. "Forgive me, my lady. I seem to have forgotten myself."

Cassandra checked to make sure no one was watching them before kneeling down. "I understand, my Prince. You're in pain. You grieve not only the loss of your wife but of your sister."

Aegon turned to look at her, confused by her kind tone. Cassandra gently took the wine cup from him and then took his hand into hers. "You are a man, yes, but you are also human. Let yourself mourn."

Near the stairs, Aemond watched the exchange between the Baratheon lady and his brother with suspicion. He was indifferent to the younger, but the elder girl he disliked greatly. Let her deal with him, he thought. He climbed the stairs, heading towards the balcony that overlooked the godswood. His mother was the King and Aemond had no desire to converse with any of the other guests. In truth, he was surprised to see Rhaenyra and Daemon. Part of him had hoped he would get to see his nephews. Especially one in particular. He had a debt to pay.

He reached the top of the stairs and quietly slipped into the shadows. Several yards away, Daella was leaning against the stone wall. She was facing the ocean, her gaze far away. Aemond noticed that she had done her up in a half-crown of braids...the same way Helaena always wore her hair. He wondered if anyone else had noticed. He remained in the shadows as he observed her, contemplating whether to approach or walk away. He hadn't said a word to her in months. Not since she threw him to the ground for his childish insults. He thought about that day quite often. He had convinced Ser Erryk to show him the move. He had practiced it. And he had been thinking of how he'd surprise her, use her own move against her. He'd imagined the face she'd make when she realized his abilities were superior. But as he watched her, thoughts of petty revenge faded from his mind.

Resolved, Aemond walked towards her. He stopped about an arm's length from her and folded his arms behind his back. "Are you alright?"

Daella nodded at first and then shook her head. "You?"

"Helaena used to bore me with her endless rants of her bugs. Their anatomy, their habits...I would always tell her to bother someone else with her useless facts," he said. "Now...I find myself missing that."

Daella smiled to herself. She recalled memories of Helaena's passionate lectures of butterflies and beetles. It was boring at times, but the excitement in Helaena's eyes made listening worthwhile. Daella giggled, her shoulders shaking as she lowered head. Aemond frowned at her. "Why are you laughing?"

"Because the only way our sister could escape Aegon and take control of her own life was by throwing herself out the fucking window." Her giggles faded into sorrow. Tears trickled down her face. "My worst fears have come true and I'm so scared. I have failed. I failed our family. I failed Helaena."

Aemond unfolded his hands, stepping closer to her. "Her death was not your fault."

"I have tried so hard to keep our family together, but it's all just slipping through my fingers." She buried her face in her hands. "I...I don't know how to fix this."

Aemond clenched his fists. An unfamiliar type of anger rolled through him as she cried. He felt helpless. Powerless. All he could think to do was grab her arm, gently squeezing. Something she had always done when she comforted him. Daella slipped out of his grasp and hugged him, her chin resting on his shoulder. It took Aemond a moment to process it. He slowly wrapped his arms around her, taking as much comfort from her as she was from him. He pressed his cheek against hers. Everything about her calmed him. Her smell, the softness of her hair, the way her chest pressed against him with each breath...it was intoxicating. He held her tighter, not wanting the moment to end.

Daella shifted her head, pressing her forehead against his. She captured his lips with hers. Aemond jerked his head back, his eye searching hers. Daella blinked, realization spurning her to recoil from him. Her hand hovered over her lips. Her face burned with numerous emotions as Aemond stared at her in shock. "I'm sorry...I didn't..."

Her fearful eyes shifted to something behind him. Aemond followed her gaze and saw Ser Otto standing near the stairs, an unreadable expression on his face. Daella turned away from them both and hurried in the opposite direction. Aemond motioned to follow her, but couldn't take more than one step. Otto approached his grandson, studying him as the prince watched Daella disappear around the corner. He placed his hand on Aemond's shoulder. "Give her time," he said. "We are all grieving."

Aemond turned his head away, hiding the embarrassed blush on his face. "She kissed me."

"I saw." He steered Aemond around, forcing the boy to look at him. "I know how much you care for her, my prince. And I know she cares for you. Be patient. Daella will come around."

The next day...

Daella finished lacing up her boots, her fingers shaking. She lowered her foot and pressed her hands to her forehead. The weight of everything washed over like a great wave, shoving her further down into despair. As expected, Rhaenyra and Daemon departed in the early morning, eager to return to their children and newborn son. Daella had to wait until they were gone from the harbor to approach her father with her desire to leave for the Eyrie. Her royal progress of the Vale wasn't until the start of the new year, but that was before Helaena. Before Aemond...

She groaned at the memory of what she did. I'm as bad as Aegon...

Daella forced herself out of the chair and finished changing into her riding clothes. She needed to get out. A knock stirred her from her spiral and she collected herself. "Come."

Malia stepped inside and held the door open for Arryk. He cradled his helmet under his arm. "You requested to see me, Princess."

"Yes." She secured the top clasp of her coat and ushered him closer. "I am leaving for the Vale tonight."

"Tonight?" he echoed.

Daella nodded. "I spoke to my father and he approved my leaving early. Winter will upon us soon so I won't be there for very long."

"I'll gather my things at once."

"Actually...you will be staying here," she said. Arryk furrowed his brows. "Aegon and I have our differences, but...I have some concerns about his well-being. It would put me at ease if you joined your brother in watching over him. At least until I return."

Arryk hesitated for a moment. He inhaled sharply and nodded. "As you command, Princess. Have a safe trip."

"Thank you, Ser Arryk."

He bowed and then promptly swiveled on his heels. Malia gave a small curtsy as he walked by. She closed the door behind him and then rushed to Daella's side. "Your package is with the White Wyrm."

"Safe?" Malia nodded. "Good. Thank you, Malia. Keep things in order while I'm gone."

"Yes, Princess."

Tower of the Hand...

Cassandra climbed the stairs to the office of the Hand of the King. A Hightower guard served as her escort, guiding her up and up and up. The lady was no stranger to endless staircases, but every step she took made her heart beat faster and faster. Summons for her had to mean something serious, something life changing. They reached the floor that held the Hand's office. The Hightower guard opened the door of her. Cassandra took a deep breath and stepped inside. Ser Otto was sitting at his desk, his quill scratching against parchment. "Lady Cassandra," the guard announced.

Otto finished whatever he was writing and then dismissed the guard. The door creaked as it closed. The Hand studied the young Baratheon maiden for a moment, noting her comely appearance. "I understand your father desires an alliance between House Baratheon and House Targaryen."

"Yes," she said. "It's been generations since our families have been bound together."

Otto hummed in agreement. "Well, the crown is certainly open to it. However, Prince Daeron is still quite young. We could arrange the betrothal now but you would have to wait until he comes of age to marry. At least five years."

"Prince Aemond will turn fifteen next year, if I'm not mistaken."

"Prince Aemond is...unavailable," he said carefully. "He is promised to another."

Cassandra smiled sweetly. "To Princess Daella? I wonder if she is aware of her own betrothal."

Otto said nothing. Her smile faltered slightly. Her hands were clasped behind her back and she fidgeted with the ends of her hair. "Tell me, my lord...did you know that the blood of Old Valyria runs through my veins?"

He raised a curious eyebrow. "People tend to forget," she continued, "but my ancestor, Orys Baratheon, was the natural son of Lord Aerion Targaryen, the father of Aegon the Conqueror. Additionally, my great-grandmother was Queen Alyssa Velaryon. Two bloodlines that survived the Doom lie within me, my lord. I'm a far more desirable match for a future King - excuse me, Prince of the realm."

Otto chuckled. He got up and walked around his desk. "I admire your boldness, my lady. You have far more savvy than most of the lords of the Small Council."

"You flatter me, my lord."

He eyed her from head to toe. "Do you wish to be Queen?"

"No," she said. "I want to be the Queen."

He smirked at her response. The wheels turned in his mind. "Prince Aegon will need appropriate time to mourn his wife as is typical of Westerosi custom. About six months should suffice."

Cassandra thought for a moment. "So the second month of next year then? Just in time for my eighteenth nameday."

"This must be fate," he said. "Prince Aegon's nameday also falls within the second month of the year."

She tried to control her excitement. She thought Ser Otto could for sure hear how hard her heart was beating. Her dreams were coming true. "House Baratheon has always been a strong and loyal vassal to House Targaryen," she told him. "It would be an honor to guide and serve Prince Aegon as his wife."

Dragonstone, that night...

A knock on the door roused Rhaenyra from a restless sleep. Daemon groaned next to her, cursing in High Valyrian. The Princess pushed herself to sit up as the knocking continued. "Come."

Light poured in from the hall and Rhaenyra shielded her eyes while Daemon buried his face into his pillow. Ser Lorent entered and bowed his head. "My apologies for disturbing you so late, Princess."

"What is it?" she grumbled, her eyes closing against her will.

"Princess Daella has arrived and requests an audience with you immediately."

That woke her up. "Daella? Is she alright?"

"I do not know, Princess."

Rhaenyra frowned. She threw the covers off and Ser Lorent looked away as the princess grabbed her robe. Daemon groaned again and sat up, his hair a wild mess. "The princess is at the Dragon Mount," Ser Lorent continued, "she bid the dragonkeepers notify us of her arrival."

"Send an escort to bring her here," Rhaenyra ordered. "We will dress and meet her in the room of the Painted Table."

Ser Lorent shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Forgive me, Princess, but she has refused an escort already. She requests you come to her."

"Is she fucking serious?" Daemon growled. "She shows up unannounced and makes demands of us?"

The Kingsguard nodded stiffly. "She has also refused to dismount Silverwing."

Rhaenyra stomped over to the balcony. With the half-moon's light, she could see Silverwing at the Dragon Mount entrance. The silver dragon flapped her wings, forcing the dragonkeepers to keep their distance. Rhaenyra walked back into the room. "Whatever it is, it must be serious. Let us dress quickly."

Daemon threw his hands up in the air but he obeyed nonetheless. Rhaenyra opted for one of her simpler dresses so as to not wake her handmaids so late at night. Ser Lorent and Ser Steffon waited patiently for them in the hall. Daemon trudged behind Rhaenyra as they made their way down the castle to the road that led to the Mount. Neither of them styled their hair, leaving their silver tresses loose. Daemon ran his fingers through his hair as the wind blew across the island. Silverwing snapped at the dragonkeepers, a warning for them to back away. They were hesitant and confused by the silver she-dragon's behavior. Most of them grew up tending to her. "Back away," Rhaenyra ordered. "She will only let us approach."

The dragonkeepers obeyed, bowing their heads as they gave the dragon space. Ser Lorent and Ser Steffon waited with them while Rhaenyra and Daemon drew closer. Silverwing keened and eased her wings back, revealing her rider and a cloaked passenger. Rhaenyra put her hands on her hips. "Come down now, Daella. Explain yourself."

Daella said something to her passenger and then climbed down. The passenger also dismounted. Silverwing curled her body around them protectively. Daella rubbed Silverwing's snout as she walked up to her sister and uncle. "I am sorry for the lack of respect and decorum, sister, but I am short on time. No one knows I'm here."

"What is going on?" Rhaenyra demanded. "And who is that?"

Daella glanced back at the cloaked passenger for a moment. She stepped closer to Rhaenyra and grabbed her hand. "I will explain everything, I promise, but I need you to trust me."

Rhaenyra softened her frown at the look on her sister's face. "You're scaring me. What is going on?"

"Just please, trust me," she begged. She glanced at Daemon. "I need both of you to trust me and listen to everything we have to say before you react. And whatever you do, please, do not send us back home."

"Of course we trust you," Rhaenyra said.

Daella breathed a sigh of relief. She turned and gestured the passenger forward. They stepped into the moonlight and pushed their hood back, revealing their face. Rhaenyra gasped. "Helaena?"

End of Chapter 13

Author's Note: I'm following my own timeline for this story, not necessarily the book or the show. Though I do like the progression of events of the show.