Present Day
A cold wind swept across the Riverlands, stirring the tall grass as Visenya guided Sunspear, to land just outside the shattered gates of Harrenhal. Behind her, Jaime dismounted his own steed, while Aegon and Jon brought Aegonar and Drogon down in wide arcs. The rest of the party—members of the Queensguard and several loyal knights—spread out in the courtyard, weapons at the ready.
Visenya's heart pounded in her chest. Nearly a week had passed since her daughter vanished. Every lead and rumor had proved fruitless, yet a single hope remained: that this cursed fortress, once built by Harren the Black of the Iron Islands, would provide a clue—or deliver Helaena at last.
She surveyed the looming black towers of Harrenhal. They seemed to glare at her, walls scorched and splintered from Aegon the Conqueror's dragonfire centuries ago. Countless Lords had held claim to the castle, only to meet tragedy. Many called it cursed—and part of her believed it might be.
But if Helaena was inside these walls, curse or no curse, Visenya would find her.
The party approached what remained of the castle's main gate. A massive iron portcullis hung at a crooked angle, rusted through. Brienne and two other Queensguard pushed it aside with effort until the group could slip in. Within the yard, a few warped training dummies and broken cart wheels lay scattered in the mud.
The last time she was here, it was inhabited by Roose Bolton...that all seemed like a distant memory with how it looked now.
Aegon walked up to Visenya, his dark brown hair that reminded her so much of Elia, whipped by the sharp wind. "My scouts circled the ramparts," he said, voice tight. "No sign of Greyjoy forces outside."
Jon stood nearby, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "We searched along the lake," he added. "There were fresh tracks leading up to the main gate but none going away. Whoever's here hasn't left."
Visenya drew a sharp breath. "Then Helaena is close."
Jaime came to her side, glancing at the stony towers overhead. "We'll split up," he suggested. "We can cover more ground that way."
Visenya nodded turning to her nephews. "You will search the eastern halls, while Jaime and I will take the upper levels. The Queensguard can sweep the courtyard and lower dungeons. If you find anything—anything at all—shout."
With that, the group pressed deeper into the fortress.
Inside, Harrenhal was a maze of collapsing corridors and grand halls gone to rot. Old tapestries hung in shreds, and piles of rubble littered the floor. Drafts of cold air seeped through gaping holes in the walls, making torches flicker wildly. It was an odd sight compared to what she witnessed the last time she was here. While she felt uncomfortable the last time she was at Harrenhal, she felt worse now. Maybe it was the fact that Helaena was missing...or if it was the fact that there was such an idea of uncertainty present.
As she stepped through a corridor echoing with the scuttling of rats, Visenya felt her heart racing. She kept her blade unsheathed, eyes darting left and right. The deeper they went, the thicker the darkness seemed, as though the castle wished to swallow them whole.
Behind her, Jaime kept a steady pace, checking every hidden nook or side passage.
They came to a vast hall supported by blackened pillars—likely the Great Hall in Harrenhal's prime. Strange echoes whispered through the chamber. At the far end, by a ruined hearth, hung a ragged banner: a golden kraken on a field of black.
Visenya's blood went cold. "Greyjoy," she breathed. "He's here."
Jaime's gaze flickered around. "He might have men posted as lookouts."
Before they could investigate further, quick footsteps approached from an adjacent corridor. Aegon and Jon emerged, both breathless, torches in hand.
"We found a side passage," Jon said between gulps of air. "Torchlight and footprints lead below."
"That must be where they're hiding," Aegon added.
Visenya's grip tightened onDark Sister. "Then let's not waste another moment."
Guided by Aegon and Jon, they followed a narrow stair spiraling into Harrenhal's bowels. The flicker of torches revealed dripping walls and mold-stained bricks. Water pooled in uneven grooves along the floor, echoing with each step. At the bottom, the corridor ended in an ironbound door, secured with thick bars and a heavy lock. Visenya's heart lurched at the sight of scratch marks on the wood. Prison or storage room?
Jaime moved first, motioning to the Queensguard who had followed. They hefted a crude battering ram, bracing themselves. On the third strike, the door's hinges broke free of the crumbling frame, and the knights shoved it aside.
A foul stench of rot and stale air blasted out, making Aegon recoil and Jon cover his nose with a sleeve. Visenya forged ahead, torch held high.
Inside was a gloomy chamber scattered with barrels, sacks of spoiled grain, and chains bolted to damp stone walls. And there, in a shadowed corner, she saw the outline of a small figure curled on the floor.
Visenya felt the world stop.
She rushed across the chamber, dropping to her knees beside the child. Even in the dim torchlight, she recognized her daughter's silver curls—dirty and knotted. Helaena looked so small, so frail.
"Helaena," Visenya choked, gently lifting her into trembling arms. She braced the little girl against her chest, searching for any sign of life. The year-old princess let out a weak whimper, her eyes fluttering open at the sound of her mother's voice.
Visenya's tears fell unchecked. "My sweet girl... you're alive."
Aegon knelt beside them, eyes wide with concern. Jon hovered just behind, jaw tight, scanning the dark corners for any threat. Jaime bent down, gently running a hand over Helaena's forehead.
"She's burning up," he said, voice thick with worry. "She needs a maester, water, food—immediately."
Helaena clung to Visenya's overcoat with tiny, trembling fingers. The queen pressed a kiss to her daughter's forehead, tears of relief mingling with anger. Anger that Euron had done this to her child.
While Visenya cradled Helaena, two knights did a quick sweep of the chamber. They found more Greyjoy banners, empty ale casks, and several extinguished braziers—evidence that the Ironborn were here. But no sign of Euron himself.
One knight returned, frustration etched on his face. "My Queen, there's a back tunnel leading toward the water gate. It's deserted, but the ground is wet—like boats were dragged through."
A bitter fury flashed in Visenya's eyes. "He fled," she said, voice trembling with rage. "He took my daughter, and now he runs like a coward."
Jon glanced at Aegon, who met his gaze with equal frustration. "He won't get far," Jon vowed softly.
Aegon inclined his head. "We'll hunt him across all the seas if we must."
Jaime slid an arm around Visenya. "But first we must see Helaena safe."
Visenya swallowed hard, nodding. A small, ragged sound escaped Helaena's lips—somewhere between a sob and a moan. Her tiny head lolled against her mother's chest.
"Yes," the queen whispered. "She comes first."
Carefully, Visenya stood, Helaena curled in her arms like a wounded bird. Jaime and Jon led the way back through the winding corridors, while Aegon followed closely, torch in hand. The Queensguard surrounded them in a protective formation. They emerged into the main courtyard, where Sunspear and the other dragons awaited, restless and uneasy. Creaking wood and the rumble of shifting stone echoed through the courtyard, as if Harrenhal itself resented their presence.
Visenya felt only the frail weight of Helaena, the faint warmth of her breath. Worry gnawed at her heart. "She'll need a maester's care—and quickly," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.
Aegon patted the side of his dragon, Aegonar, which bristled at the lingering stench of the ancient fortress. Jon's mount, Drogon, stomped the ground impatiently. They were ready to depart this cursed place.
And Visenya couldn't blame them.
"All of you," Visenya ordered her knights, "search the surrounding lakeshore. If Euron has left anything behind, you'll find it. Then return to King's Landing. Report to the Lord Commander what's happened here."
Brienne inclined her head, rallying the knights. "As you command, Your Grace."
Visenya turned to Jaime, Aegon, and Jon. "We fly for King's Landing now. The maesters there will save her."
In a matter of moments, they mounted their dragons—Visenya settling Helaena gently against her chest. Aegon and Jon took flight alongside them, while Jaime rode from the ground...as he still hated flying.
As Sunspear spread her great golden wings and launched into the sky, Harrenhal's ruined towers fell away beneath them. A swirling wind tugged at Visenya's hair and stung her eyes, but she barely noticed. Her entire being focused on the small girl in her arms.
Helaena's breathing was shallow, but each exhalation steadied Visenya's heart. She's alive. She's with me. The fortress below grew smaller and smaller, a black stain on the Riverlands. Euron Greyjoy might have escaped, but Visenya had what mattered most—her daughter. And if the kraken dared to show his face again, she vowed he would not escape her wrath.
No curse of Harrenhal could daunt her now. She felt Jon and Aegon flanking her on their dragons, ready to defend their cousin. Visenya closed her eyes, relief and rage mingling in her chest. Helaena shifted weakly, pressing her face against her mother's overcoat, as if seeking comfort.
Thunder rumbled overhead as the dragons descended upon the Red Keep. In the swirling gray sky, fat droplets of rain began to fall, spattering against the flags and towers below. A hush fell over the Dragon Pit as Sunspear's golden wings folded in, landing in a swirl of wind and dust. In the back of Visenya's mind, she was happy they were landing as it started to rain...Sunspear hated the rain. Behind her, Aegon and Jon coaxed their own dragons to settle.
Stewards and stable hands hurried forward, shielding themselves from the rain with cloaks and trying not to cower before the colossal beasts. Their eyes went wide upon seeing the small bundle in Visenya's arms—the Princess Helaena, rescued from Harrenhal.
Jaime dismounted his horse and came swiftly to his wife's side, his own cloak already drenched. He pressed a hand to Visenya's shoulder. "We're home," he murmured. "Let's get her inside."
The precious bundle stirred. Helaena, though feverish and weak, whimpered at the unfamiliar chill that invaded her blankets. One tiny hand emerged, grasping desperately for her mother's warmth.
Visenya's protective instincts flared. Her expression, etched by worry and weeks of anguish, steeled with determination. "Send for Maester Wolkan. Now," she ordered one of the attendants.
When Aegon brought Jon back from beyond the Wall, he had brought Maester Wolkan back with him. In exchange for Maester Wolkan heading South, Sam (along with Gilly and their children), decided to head back North, to ensure that Castle Black was adhering to the new policies that were put in place by the new Grand Maester.
Aegon and Jon joined them, both rain-soaked. The younger men exchanged a silent look—equal parts relief that Helaena was alive and dread for what might come next. Euron Greyjoy had slipped through their fingers. The question was: How long would it be until he struck again?
Visenya, Jaime, Aegon, and Jon followed the maester's apprentices up to a tower chamber warmed by a roaring fire. As soon as the door closed behind them, Visenya settled onto a wooden chair near the hearth, Helaena cradled close.
In a matter of moments, Maester Wolkan hurried to kneel at the Princess's side. With careful hands, he peeled back the blankets to examine the child. Helaena's face was pale, her silver curls tangled and dirty, but at the maester's gentle prodding she let out a soft cry, her eyes fluttering open.
"She's dehydrated," the maester said gently, pressing a hand to Helaena's forehead. "Her fever is high. Likely an infection from poor conditions. I'll prepare some medicine, and she must take water immediately."
Jaime stood beside Visenya, one hand on the back of her chair, brow furrowed. "Will she be all right?"
Wolkan offered him a thin smile of reassurance. "We'll do everything in our power. She's young and strong. Rest, hydration, a mild feverfew draught—it should bring her temperature down. Time will tell the rest."
Visenya exhaled shakily, cupping Helaena's tiny cheek. The baby blinked, making faint noises of discomfort. But the spark of life in her daughter's eyes reassured her more than any word could.
"Do what you must," Visenya said, forcing calm into her voice. "Anything and everything."
Aegon and Jon lingered by the window, watching as Wolkan's apprentices began gathering supplies—fresh bandages, jars of herbs, and clean cloths. The flicker of torchlight played over their faces, revealing the mix of relief and anger they both felt.
At last, once Wolkan and the apprentices settled into a routine of tending to Helaena, Aegon approached his aunt. His voice was low, almost hesitant. "She's safe now."
Visenya tilted her head up, her eyes red with unshed tears. "Yes, she is," she managed, though her relief was tempered by the memory of Harrenhal's grim corridors. She could still see the Greyjoy banner fluttering in her mind. The man who had dared to steal her child was still free.
Jon joined them, his brow creased. "Senya, I'm so sorry we couldn't stop him at Harrenhal. By the time we reached the water gate..." His words trailed off, frustration clear in his voice.
Her gaze shifted from her nephew to Helaena's sleeping form. "We got what mattered most," she said quietly, stroking her daughter's hair. "He will answer for this another day. I swear it."
Jaime let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "In the meantime, we make sure she recovers. The rest can wait."
The door to the chamber opened then, admitting Olenna Tyrell. Despite her age, she moved quickly, her expression a mixture of worry and fierce resolve. "Gods be good, you found her," she said, voice trembling only slightly. "Poor child."
Visenya dipped her head in a weary nod. Olenna reached a hand out, resting it gently on Helaena's brow as Maester Wolkan continued his work. A flicker of relief passed across Olenna's lined face.
"Her color's already a bit better," Olenna observed. "We must thank every god—old and new—that she's back." Her tone tightened. "And curse that Greyjoy bastard for what he's done."
Later that same evening, as the rain drummed against the windows of the Red Keep, Visenya parted reluctantly from Helaena's bedside at Wolkan's insistence—he wanted quiet while administering remedies to the child. Jaime stayed behind to keep watch, while Aegon, Jon, and Olenna accompanied the Queen to the council chamber.
She entered to find Brienne, Tyrion, Davos, Edmure, and Rodrik waiting. News had already spread through King's Landing that the Princess was found alive. Relief glimmered on every face, though the mood remained tense.
Tyrion bowed his head respectfully. "Your Grace, I'm overjoyed to hear that the Princess has been recovered safely."
"So are we all," Brienne added, her tone calmer now than it had been in days. "We had prepared for the worst, but..." She trailed off, clearly moved by the news of the child's rescue.
Visenya moved to her seat at the head of the table, refusing to remove her damp overcoat. She stood rather than sat, planting her hands on the table with a measured force. "She is safe," she began. "But Euron Greyjoy fled."
An uneasy silence followed. Davos cleared his throat. "We've been receiving ravens from the Iron Islands. Lady Yara reports that her uncle's ships may have set sail westward. Some claim to have spotted sails heading toward the open sea."
Visenya's lips tightened into a line. "We will not let him vanish. Raise our fleets—command them to watch every strait, every port. If he's in Westeros, we'll find him. If he's gone to Essos, I'll hunt him there."
Olenna, seated beside Tyrion, inclined her head. "The Crown might consider sending emissaries to the Free Cities, warning them of Euron's crimes. "
"A bounty might encourage swift justice from across the Narrow Sea if he appears." Edmure nodded in agreement.
Visenya nodded curtly. "Yes. A bounty will be placed on his head—enough gold to tempt even the Braavosi."
Brienne exchanged a glance with Davos before asking, "What of the Princess's wellbeing, Your Grace? The city is celebrating her safe return, but she'll need time to recover."
Visenya's gaze dropped for just a moment, her expression softening. "She's with Maester Wolkan now. She has a fever, likely from neglect. He's hopeful she'll mend with proper care."
"Shall I mobilize your army, Your Grace?" Rodrik asked with a frown.
She shook her head. "That is not necessary...at least, not yet."
Aegon rested a hand on his sword pommel. "Shall I take Aegonar and patrol the western waters?" he offered. "I could meet Yara's fleet."
Jon glanced from Aegon to Visenya, adding, "I can take Drogon North, in case he tries the long way around—although it's a fool's path to brave the Shivering Sea."
Visenya allowed herself a moment to consider. "Yes," she said. "Coordinate with Yara. If Euron dares show himself, you capture him alive. Do you understand?"
Aegon and Jon nodded as one. They understood perfectly: Euron Greyjoy was to face Visenya's wrath in person.
Night settled heavily over the Red Keep. Thunder echoed in the distance, though the rain subsided to a gentle drizzle. In a small room adjoining the Maester's tower, Visenya kept watch at Helaena's bedside. A single candle flickered, illuminating the child's sleeping face. Her eyelids were puffy, her cheeks flushed with fever. But her breathing was steady.
From time to time, the Princess let out a soft sigh, turning her head as though dreaming. Visenya leaned close, brushing a damp curl from Helaena's brow. She thought of her newborn son, Aemon, asleep in the royal nursery, none the wiser that his sister had been rescued from the brink of horror.
"Dream sweetly," Visenya whispered, voice trembling, "for I will not let harm come to you again."
Jaime emerged from the corridor, footfalls light. He placed a small cup of water and a pitcher of cooled herbal tea on the bedside table. "Maester Wolkan said to give her a few drops if she wakes," he said quietly.
Visenya nodded, her throat too tight for words. Jaime reached out, gently folding her right hand into his left.
"She'll heal," he murmured, eyes flicking over the child. "She's strong—like her mother."
A fragile, grateful smile touched Visenya's lips, and for a heartbeat, the tension in her shoulders lessened. "We will make sure of it."
By dawn, Helaena's fever had not broken, but she stirred awake with more awareness. She let out a wobbly cry at the sight of unfamiliar bandages on her arm. Visenya soothed her gently with soft words, pressing a kiss to her temple. Outside the tower window, King's Landing gradually woke to a new day. The storm clouds drifted eastward, revealing slivers of golden sunlight. The city, for all its grime and bustle, was abuzz with rumor. The Princess is found. The Queen has returned beneath that veneer of celebration, a darker truth loomed—Euron Greyjoy was at large, and he had proven he could strike at the very heart of the Targaryen Queen.
While Aegon and Jon prepared for their search, while the lords debated how best to secure the coasts, Visenya remained by her daughter's side. Her blade could wait; her duties could wait. Until Helaena's fever broke, until she was certain her child was truly safe, the queen's entire world was this small, dimly lit room.
At midday, Helaena finally drifted into a calmer sleep, her breath no longer ragged. Maester Wolkan smiled. "The fever is receding, Your Grace. She's responding well to the draught."
Relief lit Visenya's face. Tears of gratitude welled in her eyes as she reached for Helaena's tiny hand. "Thank you."
Wolkan bowed his head. "It is your love that sustains her, Your Grace. Mine is but a humble remedy."
Visenya stroked Helaena's fingers, silent vows turning in her mind. She would not rest until Euron Greyjoy answered for his crimes. But in that moment—watching her daughter's eyelids flutter peacefully—she allowed herself a rare thing: a shred of peace.
The wind rattled the window shutters, carrying the distant roar of dragon wings as Aegon and Jon took flight on their search. Far below, King's Landing bustled with renewed hope. And high in the Maester's tower, Visenya Targaryen cradled her daughter's hand, plotting retribution for the kraken who had dared threaten her family.
One day soon, she promised silently. Fire and blood would come for Euron Greyjoy.
A/N:
Helaena has been found!
But it's not over...yet.
As always, let me know if you have any questions, comments, ideas, or concerns.