#⸻ . ✷ ❛ daemon targaryen❜ 〉interactions ft. helaenaes.

[west1rosi]

in   the   scale   of   targaryens,   daemon   is   aware   where   he   lands.   a   great   man,   a   horrible   man,   sometimes   mad,   but   he   knows   his   place.   he   knows   everyone   else's   too,   with   looking   at   them.   though,   he   should   say   he   lacks   understanding   of   where   his   niece   stands.   heleana,   according   to   whispers,   has   the   sight,   what   his   people   would   call   dragon   dreams.   and   yet,   it   seems   most   would   deem   them   too   wild,   or   simply   consider   her   mad   and   dismiss   her.

  he   knows   better   than   to   dismiss   a   dream.   daerys   targaryen   had   a   dream   once   and   that   was   the   reason   their   family   was   now   alive.   the   red   keep   always   keeps   him   awake   at   night,   the   health   of   his   brother   a   thought   that   cannot   leave   him   and   daemon   can't   find   it   in   him   to   just   sleep   it   away.   so   he   walks   through   the   place   that   he   once   called   home.   surprisingly,   he   finds   dragonstone   to   be   far   more   at   ease   than   this.  

"can't   sleep   either,   princess?   lilac   eyes   peak   through   the   pages   of   the   book   he   had   been   reading.   tales   of   old   valyria,   a   book   he   read   many   times   as   a   child.   perhaps   also   a   sign   that   he   will   listen,   if   she   spoke   of   them   to   him. they might provide useful. @helaenaes

[clutchofmuses]

Queen Abrogail Targaryen was leagues away in the Red Keep, yet it was her screams ringing in Helaena's ears that woke her up. The taste of copper was thick on her tongue, as Jace's blood had been when they'd married - the second time, when they were older. The sky was a grey gash out the window when her eyes snapped open, choking on the phantom blood and the screams and the tears that would not come. Jace was used to her strangeness when they slept.

Helaena spat into her hands, but only saliva glistened. No worms.

Baelon, snoring softly in his cot in the next room, did not stir when she picked him up and clutched him to her breast. Helaena buried her nose against the crown of his soft, dark curls where he still smelled like baby, and innocence.

The screams still rang in her ears as she tucked their son into Jace's side, pressing her finger to her husband's mouth and went to find the blood wyrm.

The sky was as bloody as her dreams, the great hall empty save the crackle of the fire, and her uncle at the table.

The parchment looked forgotten where it lay upon the spot that Dragonstone was carved in, but Helaena knew better.

He smiled at her, in his own way. She did not like Daemon very much, nor were they particularly close, but her time beneath his gaze had offered her much insight into the machinations of the man who seemed to derive great joy from threatening to set the world on fire, if only to see what people do.

"I am not the first to say, but I am the first to know," she said, toneless and listless, feeling Dreamfyre's rage coursing through her, where Helaena could not often wrangle her own, but her eyes, large and unblinking amethyst, did not waver from him.

"Timpa se mele, timpa īby, ānogar shot laesi. se timpa se mele pālegon hae īlis gō. mele ōghar, mele embar, timpa īby," her voice said, soft and yet so loud in the room.

White and red, white bone, blood shot eyes. the white and red entwined as they were before. red hair, red sea, white bone

Dreamfyre screamed into the morning - an angry and mournful cry that shook the room from her proximity.

Helaena met his eyes, unblinking. "I know when you die. I know where you will go. I can give you this certainty and this peace, even if you do not grant it to others, uncle."

She wonders, for a moment, if she were not her mother's daughter, would he have married her, and killed her brothers for the throne if he could not have Rhaenyra.

She wonders what Jace will do. What will Aemond do.

@clutchofmuses sent ; “And you… you will go to hell.” x.

the sun rose over dragonstone, bloody red, a shade more vibrant than previous mornings, the rogue prince noted from his seat at the map table of westeros. the gods' acknowledgement of the blood spilt across the floors of the hand's office, perhaps, a matter written out in detail in the letter that lay on the table before him. mysaria had made a mess of the whole thing, but he could not blame her entirely for it as the blade had not been in her hands, only passed from her to the assassins, who had been hired to handle the usurper cunts children. a shame really.

"you are up early, are you not?" he questioned, his gaze moving from the table to fall upon her at the sound of helaena's footsteps entering the war room. by all rights, she was one of them, yet, he could not trust her entirely as the blood of otto and alicent hightower flowed through her veins. did betrayal run through them as well? And you… you will go to hell; oddly enough her words had the corners of his lips tugging up into something in a semblance of a smile, or perhaps a smirk, depending on how one looked at him.

"you would not be the first to say as such to me, princess, but fortunately for you, my stepson is fond of you; others have not had such luxuries." he had restraint, no matter what was whispered about him or what would be said as news of the events of king's landing spread. she was a gifted girl and, even though there was no need for him to ask he did anyway, "pray tell me what it is you condemn me for? what shall send me to the seven hells this time, i wonder."