The fact that about a month ago I was all "eww how can people ship the brother and sister? especially aemond?" and now we're here? I'm a clown lmfao
I love Helaena, and I love that the show decided to make her autistic-coded (as an autistic girl, I love that!) and Aemond has grown on me, admittedly because after episode 10 I was like "he's unhinged but in a hot kind of way"… yeah, I'm going to hell! :D This is not my favourite ship in HOTD/ASOIAF (Daemyra has claimed that spot and I will absolutely be writing more of them at some point) but I started writing this as a tumblr post for fun, only to realise "hey, maybe I can make a fic out of it instead!"
Just to preface that I'm team black but I also think team green characters are interesting in their own right!
The show doesn't really specify the age differences between Aegon, Helaena and Aemond – in Fire and Blood, it's about two years between Aegon and Helaena (Aegon is 107 AC with his sister in 109 AC) and a year between Helaena and Aemond (Aemond being 110 AC) but the show has a totally different fucking timeline so who even KNOWS at this point? The GoT wiki claims Aegon was born in 113 AC and that Helaena was born in 115 AC but didn't have one for Aemond. For the purpose of this fic, I'm sticking with the two year difference between Aegon and Helaena, and Aemond being about a year younger than Helaena and three younger than Aegon; Aemond was probably about 9 or 10 in episode 6 (he hadn't been born in E5, so either Alicent was really early in her pregnancy or wasn't pregnant with him yet… or maybe the writers just fucking forgot to mention him being born, who knows with them at this point) because there was a 10 year time jump between episodes 5 and 6, whilst Helaena was a crying infant in episode 4 (I think there's a year jump between E3 and E4 because in that street play it's said Aegon is "the little princeling of three", and his nameday in E3 was his second one)… so I'm going to assume they're about a year apart because my brain is tired. And Daeron also fits in some point after Aemond, and because the show hasn't said when he was born or shown him, I'm going to use the book canon so he's four years younger than Aemond. It's also confusing because Ewan is apparently 25 (? he's got zero online presence so who knows lmao), Phia is 24, and Tom is 27 (current ages, not while filming).
Also, it all becomes super fucked up when you think that Helaena probably had the twins when she was 16, and Maelor when she was 17 (like shortly before e8)... which would make Aemond even younger. Yeah. Yikes.
The title of the fic is taken from a quote from Flowers in the Attic, arguably THE seminal incest classic; the quote actually has nothing to do with the incest in that book but still.
Anyway, on with the fic!
Aemond is seven when he realises that people whisper about his sister - not in the way that there are always whispers, living in a keep, like the ones about his half-sister and her sons, but in a cruel and harmful way that makes his sister cry in her room and him curl his fists in anger.
"They say she's slow," Aemond informs his brother one afternoon after training with their wooden swords outside; he thinks that he must just be unaware, for he's never said anything about how their sister is whispered about. "They all keep saying she's stupid."
To his surprise, Aegon smirks and lets out a chuckle. "They're right - she's absolutely useless. Stupid and useless, even more than most girls."
"She's our sister," Aemond reminds him in disbelief, unable to understand why his brother speaks so unkindly. "And she's not stupid, she's smart!"
"All she wants to do all day is play with bugs," His older brother spits, words full of venom even as his mouth twists into an even more amused grin. "And she talks to herself, like an absolute mad person - she's almost as bad as father's other daughter." He spits on the ground. "At least Helaena isn't a whore… though maybe she'd be more interesting if she was."
After that, he becomes more aware of Aegon's behaviour towards their sister, things he had missed before in his naivety; calling her rude names when their mother is not in earshot, threatening to harm her bugs, tripping her over and touching her even when she begs him not to. When he notices it happening the first time, he tells their mother and father immediately, going straight to their places at the dinner table to tell them; Aegon is forced to apologise and scolded by their mother in private (their father, predictably, says and does nothing), and the following day Aemond's nose is nearly broken when his brother beats him viciously during a sparring session.
He can't bring himself to be too hurt or angry though when Helaena wipes the blood from his nose with a warm cloth afterwards, smiling in her sincere way as she thanks him.
When they're younger, Aemond is the one who invites Helaena to dance at dinners – he's the only one, in fact. Their father is too ill to dance, Aegon is usually too busy leering at serving ladies and claims their sister is stupid, and the whole of court seems to avoid her because they think she is weird, strange, slow.
But not Aemond.
It starts when their grandfather is seemingly the only one who notices Helaena sitting on her own, looking longingly at the where many others are dancing in the hall, and it is then that he calls Aemond to him. When the boy shuffles over, somewhat warily, Otto merely smiles diplomatically and tilts his head towards his only granddaughter.
"I think you should ask your sister to dance," He says quietly, so no one else will hear him. "What do you think?"
Aemond can only nod, mouth dry all of a sudden - not because he doesn't know how to dance, nor because he wants to dance with his sister (though both of these are true), but because he's certain this is the first time his grandsire has said more than five words to him at a time.
Otto smiles even wider, patting him on the shoulder. "Good boy. Go on."
Helaena lights up completely when he offers her his hand, taking it and all but squealing with glee; he sees their mother smile somewhat at the sight, somewhat subdued but she still seems happy - their father is too engrossed in a conversation with his eldest to even notice. Even though it hurts, it's not a surprise; Aemond has long known that his father cares more for his half-sister than for him or any of his other siblings. Still, the happiness on Helaena's face is enough - more than enough.
They giggle and have fun together as he twirls her around, one of the only times either of them get to have fun in fact; her smile is like sunshine, he thinks, warm and bright, making something wonderful bloom in his chest whenever he looks at her. She enjoys dancing with him too, despite the fact he is still shorter than her (for now, she thinks, she knows he will grow to be the tallest of them all) because he treats her normally, with respect, and she doesn't feel afraid of doing something wrong around him, of offending him somehow.
He enjoys being with his sister, even though Aegon takes to mocking him about it - yet another thing he's mocked for, as if being teased by his brother and nephews over his lack of a dragon isn't bad enough. Helaena only smiles softly when he laments to her that he wants a dragon, it's his birthright, and it's unfair that their nephews - who aren't even true Targaryens, he thinks bitterly - get dragons whilst he does not.
"You'll have a dragon," She says quietly one day, almost to herself as she watches a beetle crawl about its box. "Soon. You just need an eye to close."
It doesn't make sense to him - but he's used enough to her strange murmurings by now to not think too much of it.
He spends a lot more time than he perhaps should with her and her bugs, listening as she details all that she knows of each and every one; she is not stupid, he thinks, but absolutely brilliant. She's gentle with her small friends, and she teaches him how to make sure he does not step on any he sees outside or in the keep. He even begins carefully catching particularly colourful bugs that he sees so that he can give them to her; one is the colour of her eyes, a bluish lilac, another the same shade of green that their mother insists he and their brother dress in when they train, the green of their grandsire's house. She beams with every insect that he brings her, which more than makes up for the way Aegon sneers and pushes him when he sees what he's doing, and for all of the horrible names he calls Helaena both to her face and behind her back.
"Idiot," Aegon hisses to her when she speaks one of her strange murmurings at dinner in front of various lords, all of whom politely pretend she has not spoken at all.
"She's such a freak ," She hears him snort to Aemond when she covers her ears because the noise is unbearable, and her dear little brother says nothing but later offers his hand to her under the table.
The one she hates the most is when he calls her retard, the word echoing in her mind for days after each time he says it - and he says it often. He's not stupid enough to do it in front of their mother or father, and certainly not in front of their grandfather, but he takes a perverse amount of glee from calling her that to their brother, to the young ladies and men who visit the keep, even to Ser Criston Cole. He corners her in the corridors and empty rooms of the castle, sneering as he calls her the word and muses on killing her bugs. One afternoon, he even accosts her in the Dragonpit when none of the Dragonkeepers are nearby, pulling at her hair.
"Can't believe even a retard like you has a dragon," Aegon spits cruelly. "It's a disgrace to our house, to our family name."
Helaena loves Dreamfyre dearly, their bond strong despite the fact she has ridden her only a few times - but after that afternoon, she avoids the Dragonpit unless she knows her older brother will not be there.
She knows she is not completely alone; she has her bugs, of course, and the times she gets to ride Dreamfyre are blissful. But in the way of human company, the only people she feels truly comfortable around are her grandfather and Aemond; for all of his faults, her grandsire is kind enough to her and even on occasion gives her a box for her small friends to live in - other than Daeron, who at five is still too young to be much of anything, she thinks that he likes her the most of all of his grandchildren. She is also surrounded by girls of her own age, daughters and nieces of men loyal to her father, who are taught alongside her and supposed to keep her company, but they shriek and hide from her bugs, and she knows that they talk about her when she is not present, about how strange and odd she is.
Helaena can only imagine how much stranger everyone would think her if they knew of the dreams she has had since infancy, the visions that constantly plague her - as it is, they all think she just says silly things with no meaning. But she knows the truth, knows that what she sees will come to be; what she sees isn't always immediately clear, sometimes things that appear to her are quite abstract, but she understands even if no one else does, even if they ignore the warnings that she tries to give them.
"Bugs are so much easier to understand," She tells Aemond softly one day as they sit underneath the weirwood tree, the gentle rustling of the leaves not nearly enough to drown out the whispers that haunt her mind.
Her brother hesitates before taking her hand and squeezing gently; it occurs to her only then that his is the only touch that does not burn her skin, does not make her want to scream at the feeling.
Helaena is eleven when her betrothal to her older brother is announced, made official by their father the king and to take place within the next few years.
She stands stoically as it is announced, focusing her gaze on anything but the thirteen year old boy at her side who looks as decidedly unhappy as she feels; out of the corner of her eye, she's sure that she sees her mother smile - it is tight, uncomfortable, forced, but a smile nonetheless. Across the hall, she sees her older half-sister and her eldest nephew; Rhaenyra too smiles sadly, knowingly, and for a moment Helaena wonders what might have been if they'd been closer - what it might have been like to have a sister, a true one. Jacaerys is closer to her own age than her half-sister is, a handsome boy who will no doubt grow into a handsome man, as his younger brothers undoubtedly will too; she has seen him but a handful of times, mostly when forced to watch the boys training outside or while in the Dragonpit, and while he has joined in with Aegon's teasing of Aemond in the past, he doesn't seem particularly unkind. One of her visions had shown a different path, a different outcome, where she had been betrothed to him instead of her brother and their families united uneasily but their house strong, and she thinks she could have grown happy if this had been the thread fate pulled on - but it is a dying dream now, scattered to the wind. Rhaenyra and her sons are to leave for Dragonstone after this, an escape that she wishes she too had even if it means she has to be married off to her nephew.
Everyone seems either happy or polite enough to feign happiness - except for her dear little brother.
Helaena sees the way Aemond's hands curl into fists, his mouth pressed into a firm line and fire burning in his eyes; he says nothing to either of his older siblings despite knowing fully well that neither of them have a choice in the matter - none of them have ever had a choice. She knows that he is not angry at her , he could never hate her, and that the hatred he feels is towards Aegon, towards father, towards the fates that have led to this moment, but she still feels sad seeing the look on his face and knowing she is partly to blame, if only for existing to be married off and produce heirs.
For a moment, she allows herself to briefly entertain the idea of her parents betrothing her to her other brother - but he is still only a boy, and she is on the cusp of womanhood (or so claims their mother, though she has not yet bled). It can never be.
As she flies Dreamfyre over the seas to Driftmark, being sure not to soar too close to her older brother on his golden dragon, she knows that the next time they fly, they will be accompanied by Aemond on his own dragon - and that he will be scarred as payment for it.
He'll have to close an eye, she remembers, and she wonders which it will be.
During the funeral of Laena Velaryon, Helaena debates telling Aemond of what she has seen, of warning him of the cost, but she knows her brother well enough to know that he will merely be all the more determined to do it - if he believes and understands her, that is. He's kind and listens when she speaks, but she can tell that sometimes he doesn't fully understand what she is trying to say, try though he does. Instead she waits for the ceremony to end before searching through the damp rocks and shells in search of any bugs, pleased when she finds a small spider; she's happy enough to ruminate over her latest vision and dreams, muttering to herself thoughtfully.
Hand turns loom; spool of green, spool of black, dragons of flesh weaving dragons of thread .
They are watching their sister from afar when Aegon sighs. "We have nothing in common."
"She's our sister," Aemond states, as if this makes all the difference.
"You marry her then," His brother retorts, as if the very idea should be insulting to him.
The idea of doing just that makes something strange settle inside of Aemond, a pleasant warmness that he's used to feeling only when he's with Helaena - but he cannot say that, cannot speak against the betrothal no matter how much he wants to, and he certainly cannot let Aegon of all people know that the idea does not repulse him in the slightest because the mocking would be unbearable
"I would perform my duty," He says instead, hoping he sounds more like a serious man than a silly boy. "If mother had only betrothed us."
Aegon scoffs, rolling his eyes. "If only."
He hates how ungrateful his brother is, despite the fact that he gets everything; he's cruel, lazy, arrogant, not duty-bound at all despite the fact he is a prince and (should their father ever see any common sense) the future king. It's unfair that his brother should get everything - the crown, a dragon egg that hatched, even their sister - just because he had the good luck to be born first; meanwhile he, the second son, is treated as being of little importance, of being second best despite the fact he works twice as hard and was far more deserving.
He cannot say any of this, especially not here when they're surrounded by those who are viewed as enemies despite being family; instead, he forces himself to repeat the words their mother had said when she first informed them of the betrothal. "It would strengthen the family, keep our Valyrian blood pure."
Which is frankly more than their half-sister has been doing, given how dark-haired their three nephews are; her line was sullied, he remembers overhearing Ser Criston Cole and his mother saying once, the family blood dirtied with boys fathered by Harwin Strong. For that reason alone, he's grateful that at least their only sister isn't betrothed to one of them Strong boys, that they can't ruin her like is in their nature to do.
"She's an idiot," Aegon says, as if it's painfully obvious to everyone around them.
"She's your future queen," Aemond states, and he cannot keep his eyes from her; she looks especially pretty today, he thinks, wearing green for once just like her brothers, her pale hair spilling over her shoulders. Even from afar, he can see the freckles that spread across her nose and cheeks - he's heard it said often that Helaena was the first and only Targaryen to have freckles instead of a perfectly clear complexion, though he thinks they make her all the prettier to look at.
He's unable to understand why his brother hates her so much.
Suddenly Aegon smirks, stepping forwards towards a serving girl carrying a tray of goblets; she looks extremely uncomfortable as he leers at her. "We actually do have… one thing in common." He places his empty cup on her tray and takes a new one before turning back to him; he leans down so their faces are only inches apart, grin widening in an almost teasing way. "We both fancy creatures with very long legs."
He watches his brother leave in pursuit of the girl serving wine, the disgust he feels churning and eating away at his insides to the point where all he can do is mutter Aegon's name like it's a curse. Helaena deserves so much better, he thinks, far better than this lazy arrogant pig they call their kin; he knows that their brother will be an awful husband to his sweet sister, not only because of how cruel he is to her but also because it's no secret that Aegon can't keep his cock in his trousers - no one dares say it because he's the prince and will most likely be king someday, but they all know.
If mother had only betrothed us…
Aemond knows he would have been better than Aegon; yes, he would do his duty for his family, to strengthen their house, but he also knows that he would enjoy being married to her. He likes Helaena better than either of his brothers, thinks she is smart and wonderful, and she's beautiful too - if he were the one marrying her, he would be loyal to her and always protect her, dragon or no dragon.
The thought of dragons makes him feel even worse; his mother always promises that he will have one someday, that she knows it, but it's impossible for her to know such a thing. He loves her, he loves her so very dearly, but she is not of their house, not a dragon rider herself, and so she cannot possibly understand what it feels like to not have that bond, to be a Targaryen unable to claim their birthright. He's tired of not only Aegon but also his bastard nephews making fun of him for not having a dragon; it's wrong that Jace and Luke are allowed to flaunt their dragons in front of him, that they have been given more than him, a son of the king himself.
"Do not worry, Aemond," He remembers Helaena telling him gently on the day that they had gifted him the 'Pink Dread', a pig dressed up as an insult. "Not all riders are bonded to dragons hatched from eggs. The Lady Laena did not have a dragon until she was fifteen, and now she rides Vhagar."
Vhagar, he thinks, remembering what he has studied in his lessons; she was the largest known living dragon in the world, ridden by Visenya Targaryen, the sister-wife of Aegon the Conquerer, to glory in battle. It was rumoured that the she-dragon had followed Prince Daemon and his daughters to Driftmark after the Lady Laena's death, almost as if she were mourning the loss of her second rider, and-
Aemond's thoughts take a sharp turn, misery disappearing to make way for the sudden realisation that had entered his mind: Vhagar is unclaimed and she is here on Driftmark - and he is in need of a dragon, after all. If a Velaryon girl of all people could claim her, then why not him, a Targaryen prince?
It is fate, it has to be.
It's all too easy to slip away from the depressing gathering; no one pays attention to the second son when the Lord of Driftmark's own son is making a show of himself, the eldest son of the king is drunkenly acting the fool, and those gathered are busy whispering. He doesn't say goodbye to his mother, knowing she will of course stop and forbid him, and probably assign her sworn knight to watch him - his father most likely doesn't care either way, he thinks bitterly. The only person here worth saying goodbye to is Helaena, but he doesn't want to tell her, not yet; she might also try to stop him, and he finds it far more difficult to refuse her than their mother or anyone else.
Absent-mindedly, Aemond vows that the next time he sees her face, it will not be as a little boy but as the rider of the largest dragon in Westeros - he will be a true Targaryen, far more than Aegon or those Strong bastards could ever hope to be.
Helaena wakes to a commotion and knows immediately that it has happened.
Like the rest of the guests staying in the castle, she makes her way downstairs to the Hall of Nine; already there is a crowd gathering, and while the idea of being among so many people makes her want to scream, she knows she must be there - for him if nothing else.
Her brother is seated near the fire, their mother by his side and distraught by what has taken place; Maester Kelvyn is already tending to him, looking grim. Surprisingly, Aegon is standing there too; he looks pale and scared, and when she stands near him he doesn't so much as look at her. She doesn't think that he is looking at their brother either, and when she chances a look for herself she understands why.
It's far worse than she thought it would be.
Aemond winces and clutches the arms of the chair, but he does not cry as the maester stitches the wound together; it's a deep one, long and hideous in the way it stretches from above his left brow, over his left eye socket, and down to his cheek. Helaena wants to comfort him, to whisper that she's sorry she did not tell him, but she knows that it's not a good idea; she wouldn't want to be in the way of the maester helping him, and she knows that she does not want to be caught in the middle of what is about to happen in the Hall.
In a somewhat surprising turn of events, their father is furious - it's the most care he has ever shown for Aemond, though it's hard to tell if he's angry at the fact one of his grandsons has maimed his son or simply that the knights supposed to be on watch were not guarding the children properly. There is a lot of furious shouting from all sides, and it makes her head feel heavy even when the king orders everyone to be quiet; usually she is able to hold Aemond's hand when gatherings become too loud or when she feels overwhelmed, but now that is not an option - and she is smart enough to know that asking Aegon to hold her hand is a waste of time, sure to lead only to being mocked once more.
"It will heal, will it not, maester?" Alicent asks desperately.
Maester Kelvyn hesitates, still focusing his attention on sewing together the wound. "The flesh will heal… but the eye is lost, Your Grace."
Their father sighs; their mother looks as though she might burst into tears - but then she stands, walks purposefully towards where her two eldest children are standing with her maid, and-
The sound of the smack she delivers to Aegon's cheek makes Helaena jump, turning her face away and closing her eyes; her mother has never struck any of them before, not like this, and it frightens her. Her older brother is berated for being so deep in his cups that he had not been there to defend Aemond, but he is not fully to blame and they all know it; for all his faults, he is not the one who gouged an eye out with a knife.
"They attacked me!"
"He attacked Baela!"
"He broke Luke's nose!"
"He claimed Vhagar!"
"There were four of them!"
"He stole my mother's dragon!"
"He tried to kill Jace!"
They shout over each other so much that it is hard to understand what any of them are saying; the king seems to think so too as he yells for silence, which halts all of them. In the sudden quiet that follows, as their father turns to hear Aemond speak first, Helaena sees her half-sister listen to her sons' whispers, her expression turning hard.
"Aemond, I will have the truth of what happened. Now."
"What else is there to hear?" Their mother asks in disbelief before he can even answer. "Your son has been maimed. Her son is responsible."
"It was a regrettable accident-"
"Accident? The Prince Lucerys brought a blade to the ambush! He meant to kill my son!"
Helaena looks at her nephews; Lucerys Velaryon is six years old, small and by no means a cold-blooded killer. She doesn't doubt that he did the act, there are enough witnesses to that, but she can't imagine him purposefully wanting to harm anyone. Perhaps she is thinking too kindly of him.
"It was my sons who were attacked and forced to defend themselves," Rhaenyra argues, drawing her sons closer to her. "Vile insults were levied against them."
Insults do not equal an eye, she thinks sadly; her brother had had such a beautiful pair of eyes, and now one of them is lost forever.
Viserys looks surprised despite how exhausted he is. "What insults?"
There is a long pregnant silence, everyone waiting to hear what the princess says. "The legitimacy of my sons' birth was put loudly to question."
The old king is taken aback. "What?"
"He called us bastards," Jacaerys states quietly.
The queen does not seem surprised nor shocked as her eyes drift to Aemond; despite the obvious pain he's in, the smallest of smirks is pulling at his mouth - not enough to be noticed by their father, but enough for his sister to notice standing beside him.
"My sons are in line to inherit the Iron Throne, Your Grace," Rhaenyra says, moving closer to their father - this is the closest to pleading they've all seen her. "This is the highest of treasons. Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders."
Sharply questioned. Helaena feels sick but refuses to show it; they all know, even she, that 'sharply questioned' is the polite way to say 'torture'. Her brother is but ten years old, a child still, just as much as Daeron is, just as much as Jace and Luke.
Her mother seems to think the same. "Over an insult?" She questions in disbelief, and she looks at Aemond before continuing, her resolve strengthening at the sight of his blood splattered face. "My son has lost an eye!"
Their father does not seem nearly as concerned as he leans down closer to his son, stern and cold. "You tell me, boy. Where did you hear this lie?"
"The insult was training yard bluster, the lot of boys," Alicent says quickly before he can speak. "It was nothing."
"Aemond." Viserys is unmoved. "I asked you a question."
Still he says nothing - what he can say, none of them know. "Where is Ser Laenor, I wonder?" Their mother asks the room, clearly trying to take the attention from her son - like a lioness protecting her cubs, Helaena thinks. "The boys' father? Perhaps he might have something to say in the matter."
It works - for now. "Yes," The king agrees, looking now to his eldest daughter. "Where is Ser Laenor?"
"I do not know, Your Grace," Rhaenyra answers, and now she appears somewhat awkward. "I… could not find sleep. I had gone out to walk."
Helaena thinks that her half-sister looks… rumpled. Her hair is coming out of its style, not in the way hair usually would after a day of being in the wind but somehow differently; there is sand in it, as if she's been lying on a beach, and her dress looks rumpled. Behind her, Prince Daemon is leaning against a doorframe and smirking in a rather satisfied way, as if it's a joke only the two of them know about. The two had both disappeared some time after the funeral, only reappearing now late this evening - and suddenly she thinks she knows what has happened, what they were doing while their children fought with her brother, and she doesn't know how to feel.
She is not the only one who seems to know; Ser Criston Cole is also smirking, though his lips are twisted in an unkind way, one that implies judgement and scorn. The queen is also disdainful, though it appears to be for the absent Ser Laenor and not the princess as she mutters, "Entertaining his young squires, I would venture."
Those are also rumours Helaena has heard, something she should not know; the servants talk a frightful lot when they think she is asleep or occupied, and because they think her stupid. Sometimes she wishes she could scream at everyone that just because she is quiet, it does not mean she is unintelligent - she's an observer, watching people as she watches her bugs.
"Aemond… look at me," Their father begins, the momentary distraction over now; Aemond's remaining eye shifts from the fire to the old man, mouth pressed into a firm line. "Your king demands an answer. Who spoke these lies to you?"
He does not speak at first, though his eye moves to their mother as he takes a deep breath; she looks scared, Helaena realises. The king follows his son's gaze, looks at his wife and then back at his son again; Rhaenyra looks furious even under her calm demeanour.
"It was Aegon," Aemond says suddenly.
She can feel her older brother's surprise as their father turns to him, none more shocked than him despite the fact they've all heard him say it regularly. "Me?"
"And you, boy?" Viserys all but spits out as he approaches his oldest son at the fire, somewhat unsteadily on his stick. "Where did you hear such calumnies?"
He says nothing, staring down at the floor, but she can feel his fear from where she's standing; sick though the old man is, he is still the king and their father besides.
"AEGON!" Helaena flinches at the same time as her brother does, the sound of yelling too loud for her ears. "Tell me the truth of it!"
Aegon hesitates for a moment before speaking, his voice unsteady and cautious. "We know, Father." It is only now that he turns his head to meet the stern gaze, and despite all of the pain he has put her through, she thinks that this is rather brave of him - to say what is treason while looking directly into their father's eyes. "Everyone knows. Just look at them."
The hall is silent at his words; it is the truth no one has dared to say until now, something they all know but avoided discussing. Helaena has always wondered why their father didn't seem to see what was so plainly obvious to everyone else; that all three of the boys bore a striking resemblance to the late Harwin Strong, that none of them looked a thing like their Targaryen and Velaryon parents. Now she knows that it was not that their father didn't see it, not that he is stupid - it was that he refused to see it completely, that he did not want to. It's a willful blindness that he has not shown to any of his other children, that he will never show towards them, only to his firstborn daughter from his first marriage, his heir.
Viserys looks between his eldest daughter and his wife before speaking, his voice loud and clear. "This interminable infighting must cease! All of you!" He shouts, and there is desperation to his command too. "We are family! Now make your apologies and show good will to one another. Your father, your grand sire, your king demands it!"
No one moves; her brothers both look down at the floor, Aegon with his head bowed low and Aemond full of anger, full of resentment, that he is unable to express. She knows that it is too late now - nothing will change what has happened, the damage that has been done to the family, and no amount of apologies from either side will mend things.
As her father moves away from Aegon, his stick loud on the floor, her mother is close to tears - of frustration, of hurt, of disbelief - as she looks at him; he walks straight past her, and it is only when she speaks that he stops to turn back to her. "That is insufficient," She states. "Aemond has been damaged, permanently, My King. 'Good will' cannot make him whole."
"I know, Alicent," The king admits, somewhat regretfully. "But I cannot restore his eye."
"No," She agrees bitterly. "Because it's been taken."
"What would you have me do?" Viserys questions, and Helaena realises that despite how unfair it seems to Aemond, to her mother, to the children he has ignored, he truly is trapped in an uncomfortable situation; one party is his son, the other his grandson. Both are of his blood, both young children, and whatever he does will cause resentment from one side of the family or the other.
Still, she reminds herself, it cannot be denied that her father has an obvious favourite - her and her brothers are worth less to him than his firstborn, even if he won't say it aloud.
"There is a debt to be paid," Alicent says, and her voice is decidedly firm and cold as she looks to Rhaenyra. "I shall have one of her son's eyes in return."
The hall bursts into quiet murmurs at this; Aemond's face is turned from her so she cannot see his expression, but he is looking towards where their half-sister is standing with her sons near Corlys Velaryon and his wife. She sees the princess Rhaenys holding Baela and Rhaena close to her, the last reminders of her daughter that are left in this world now that Vhagar has been claimed by another; both girls look horrified by this, whispering protests to their grandparents that go unheard.
The king is justifiably shocked by this request as he moves towards her. "My dear wife…"
"He is your son, Viserys!" She reminds him desperately. "Your blood!"
"Do not… allow your temper to guide your judgement." His voice is low, almost commanding, and leaves no room for argument; it is not a discussion but an order, an order that she is expected to follow.
He has turned away and is going to leave the hall again when her mother speaks once more. "If the King will not seek justice, the Queen will. Ser Criston…" She looks to the knight, eyes burning with thinly disguised rage. "Bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon."
Ser Criston straightens up but before he can so much as take a step forwards, Lucerys panics and calls for his mother. Viserys murmurs her name, trying to make her see sense, but she brushes him aside. "He can choose which eye to keep, a privilege he did not grant my son."
"You will do no such thing," Rhaenyra retorts coldly, already shielding her sons.
"Stay your hand," The king orders the knight.
"No, you are sworn to me!" Her mother snaps to him, and though she is not of the blood of the dragon like her children are, there is fire inside of her born of outrage.
The crowd gathered waits with bated breath as Ser Criston hesitates before meeting the queen's gaze. "As your protector, my Queen," He reminds her slowly.
Helaena releases a small breath she does not know she's been holding - perhaps her vision was wrong, she hopes, perhaps there will be no further bloodshed. She does not like bloodshed, and she does not particularly want to see anyone else get hurt; it is horrible that Aemond has suffered, but continuing the cycle of violence in the name of justice will not help matters.
Her father seems to think so too. "Alicent, this matter... is finished. Do you understand?" Her mother says nothing, only glaring furiously. He directs his next words to everyone gathered, raising his voice to an echoing shout, and his tone indicates that he is incredibly serious. "And let it be known: anyone whose tongue dares to question the birth of Princess Rhaenyra's sons should have it removed!"
No one dares to argue - a wise choice all things considered. It appears that this awful business truly is finished for good now, for better or worse, and that there is no more to be said on it.
Until her mother takes the Valyrian blade from her father's belt and stalks across the room.
There is chaos all around Helaena, and it hurts her head because there is far too much happening all at the same time; so many people are shouting and pushing forwards to see what is going on, some shouting to protect the king, others to stop the queen. Only her mother's maid stands with her, far back from the crowd that is gathering; she sees Aemond stand and try to move closer, pushing through the sea of adults, but then she loses sight of him. Rhaenyra stops Alicent before she can reach the boys, but Lucerys is screaming in terror, because he is still only a six year old boy and despite what he has done, he is scared and even younger than the uncle he has blinded. She sees Ser Criston go to help (help her mother, most likely, he is her sworn protector after all), but then Daemon Targaryen moves so quickly, like a bolt of lightning, and stops him from getting too close. The sharp blade shines and glistens in the light of the fire as the two women grapple with one another in the middle of the room, their words seeming to be about more than just a lost eye, more than the feud between their children.
The blade comes down suddenly, slashing through the fabric of a sleeve and into Princess Rhaenyra's arm; Helaena's hand flies to her mouth, and her stomach lurches - not because the sight is particularly gory or unpleasant, but because she has seen this before, seen it in a dream or a vision that until now she has only remembered fragments of. The sound of the knife clattering to the floor is ominously loud in the sudden silence, everyone shocked and stunned by what has happened.
It is her younger brother that breaks the silence; his voice sounds different - not in the way that Aegon's has since he has started to become a man, but in the way that speaks. She realises that he sounds calm, reserved, almost older. "Do not mourn me, Mother. It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye…" He looks at their half-sister, at their nephews, with an expression that is unreadable but feels dangerous. "But I gained a dragon."
As her father leaves, the nightmare now truly at an end, she sees Aemond go to their mother and rest his head on her shoulder, as if to comfort her. People begin to filter out of the hall, returning to their rooms and beds, but it is not over - not really. The chasm between the two sides of the family is fully formed now, two separate sides that can never be reunited.
Much like Aemond's eye, like his face, it will never truly be healed.
They fly home to King's Landing the next morning, and it is a relief to be on Dreamfyre's back once more; the air is cool and refreshing, and it feels good to get away from Driftmark after all that has transpired.
She sees Sunfyre ahead, his golden scales shimmering and shining in the morning rays - and then a shadow passes overhead, eclipsing both dragons easily. Her little brother is little more than an ant on the back of Vhagar, and yet she can see that he looks surprisingly at ease as he rides; it may be new, but the bond between dragon and rider is already forming. This is what he has always wanted, she thinks, what he has always dreamed of, and she is happy for him - she just wishes that it had not meant him losing one of his beautiful eyes.
Despite what it cost, however, it feels right that they are all flying together: Aegon, Helaena, Aemond... it is an echo of Aegon the Conquerer and his two sister-wives, she thinks - the dragon of their house sigil has three heads, after all.
The next two chapters are already posted on AO3 but I'll post them here soon for anyone interested!
Comments/feedback always appreciated!