#also i'm so sorry i keep making my replies so goddamn long ASDIFJASDF

[dreamedfyre-a]

Blood for blood, a son for a son. On and on it goes, a line unending, until the line is ended. Theirs or Rhaenyra's? There can be only one. Some would blame Aemond for drawing first blood, but she knows better. It was inevitable. Blood was always going to be spilled, and Aegon's sons would always be the first targets.

Her precious little princes. The curse is in their blood.

Helaena can still find it in herself to hate Daemon for it. They were children, unaware of what war even means. Pure, in a way the world would soon surely taint, but pure still. She is no innocent; she knows that. Though her hand may draw no blood, there had been enough weight in her voice to help sway Aegon from immediate bloodshed upon receiving Rhaenyra's terms, and there had been enough drive to use it.

That she didn't try to temper him further was a choice. That she stood alongside Aegon and embraced Aemond after he spilled Lucerys' blood was not imposed on her. The truth is no matter her brothers' crimes, she would not turn away from them. She is no innocent, but her children were, before that too was taken from them.

Daemon's fault; Aegon may rage against Rhaenyra, but Helaena does not believe her sister's hand guided his actions. And if she does not denounce him, how can she be blamed? Aemond killed Rhaenyra's son; Helaena would not denounce him either.

Hatred cannot fuel her rage for long, nonetheless, not even against Daemon. What does it matter who gave the order? What matters is that it was given. What matters is that a wretched pair of assassins found their way inside their home. What matters is that her son lost his life and that she chose his brother to die. Daemon doesn't matter. Having his head cannot undo this.

❝ I wish they had killed me instead of him. ❞ said without hesitation, despite expecting her mother's chastising; the words tumble forth, pained and honest. Death would have been preferable to watching Jaehaerys die.

Had Rhaenyra felt like this, when the news got to her that Lucerys died?

No; Rhaenyra hadn't been made to choose between him and Jacaerys. She had not held the lifeless body of her beheaded son while his blood still flowed. She had not stared at his stitched neck when his corpse was once again defiled, paraded through city streets, and crowned in his mother's grief.

Was that not the god's retribution? Was it not them who were on the receiving end of it? Of their cruelty, at the very least. Helaena does not know that she cares about what role the gods play in this, not anymore. Their justice will give her no solace. Their absolution would never matter more than that of the little boy she had chosen to die.

❝ Maelor will be told. He will wonder what happened to his brother. Why his mother is so hateful, ❞ A lighter choice of words than she feels is adequate. ❝ And this burden — it is no more than I deserve. The gods have seen to justice on that account. They left me the penance for my sins. ❞

Her mother's touch is not avoided, this time. No solace is taken from it, still. She wants to. She wants to lean into the warmth of her mother's hand, lay her head on her mother's lap, cry until there are no tears left, held safely by her mother's arms as if she were still a little girl. She wants to cry and hear it is not her fault until she can start to believe it.

Instead, she holds it in and lets the guilt rot within her body, spreading its decay through every part of her. Instead, she bites it back and chokes in it, instead she swims, trying to keep her head above the water, until inevitably her guilt drowns her.

She doesn't deserve her mother's compassion, forgiveness, warmth — love. Her son had no mother to soothe his tears and hold him in her lap and make him feel safe as the little boy he is. It had come to her so easily, once. To soothe their hurts and be their shield. To lull them to safety, promise nothing bad would ever happen to them so long as she was near.

A lie. One they should see for what it is.

Helaena still trembles as violet gaze meets her mother's brown eyes — beautiful in their determination, still shining from the tears shed. She is so deeply loved. Helaena had once hoped her children would love her as much as she loves her mother.

❝ They won't, ❞ A breath, still unsteady. Her tears dry, but it makes it no easier to speak. ❝ They won't let them. Us. Jaehaera may be allowed. ❞

❝ Maelor — ❞ The name of one's own child should not be said with such sorrow. She picked that name. She picked him to die. ❝ is Aegon's heir. They will want to keep him close. Oldtown has no dragons to protect it with Daeron on the field. The Blacks could... ❞

As if dragons had protected Jaehaerys. As if nearness had kept him safe. The queen had been with him, and his siblings besides; no dragon kept them safe. No guards, either. If she says it's a foolish notion, Aegon's council is sure to dismiss it on account of the young queen's grief clouding her judgment, or some other such nonsense. They still believe they're safe, that the threat is out there. Then again, they had not looked death in the eye as Helaena had.

Oldtown would have a dragon to protect it, were she to go with them. No. The mere idea they would rely on her protection makes her ill. She would rather not fly Dreamfyre at all. ❝ And I should — stay with my husband. ❞ With her son, too, others would think. She knows better. Maelor would be better with her sent to Oldtown, or someplace farther yet, to Essos or beyond the Wall or Asshai by the Shadow. Anywhere she could not touch him. Anywhere she wouldn't harm him further. ❝ You should take her, if you can. Jaehaera. They would both be better with you, but if they insist — Maelor must stay, Jaehaera at least should go. ❞

Alicent shakes her head, lets Helaena recoil from her TOUCH. She knows it is nothing personal--is not a CONDEMNATION--but her daughter's agony. Her hands fall to her lap, laying uselessly on her thighs as she listens.

"Helaena...we know who was behind it. We know," she breathes out, lifting her wide eyes to her child's face. Daemon Targaryen. Seeking RETRIBUTION for the death of Lucerys. She knew, even if Rhaenyra had no prior knowledge of the assassination--Daemon must have ascertained something to spur him to action.

It was he who killed Jaehaerys. It was he who had BROKEN something already so FRAGILE in her girl. Alicent had never wanted someone DEAD, had never yearned to hear their heart stopped beating.

But she wanted, more than anything, to hear that Daemon Targaryen had been SLAIN.

"You could have all been KILLED had you not spoken, Helaena...All of you," she whispers, shaking her head. "The Black Council sought revenge for the death of Lucerys. Had they the opportunity to END Aegon's line...they would have."

To lose her grandchildren was WRETCHED. But to lose her girl...to lose her DARLING girl...

It was an unimaginable thought.

She bows her head, is unable to hide the tears that slip down her cheeks. "Maelor will not remember. But you will...you will carry that BURDEN in your heart for as long as life endures and I...I HATE that you do not see that it was not your fault. They forced your hand, Helaena. And they will suffer the Gods' retribution for it."

Alicent takes in a shuddery breath, blinking up towards the ceiling. She had brought this down on them. She, who had had no AMBITION, no taste for power, who had wanted nothing more than a quiet life with books and a man who LOVED her. She had done this.

It was her MISTAKE that pushed Aegon on the throne. It was her fault that Lucerys was dead. It was her fault that Jaehaerys was dead. And it was her fault that Helaena HATED herself.

A POISONOUS woman. A WRAITH who ruined everything she touched. Perhaps this babe would know the same pain as their SIBLINGS.

"Helaena...you did what you must to save your children. They FORCED you to make a horrific choice. You are not to BLAME, my love." Her hand gently reaches up, brushes just under her daughter's chin.

I am.

She shakes her head again and lowers her head, releasing Helaena's face. When her eyes lift, there is determination--masking the anguish she felt in her heart. She would wield the LAST of her power as Regent to protect her family. "When the time comes, I will insist that you and the children accompany me to Oldtown. I will not LOSE any more of you."