#dreamedfyre

[quccninchains]

"Mama," She is eight, the only one who stays by mother's side besides Daeron, her other brothers old enough to be outside training with Ser Criston. And she should be doing her stitches, still crooked and uncertain, practicing to get better, but she would much rather sit by her mother's feet, looking up with big violet eyes and looking for a story that has naught to do with the fantastic tales she so loves. "Did you learn with your mama too? What was she like?"

{☾} Daeron napped on her lap, a steady stream of drool slipping down the side of his chin. Alicent smiled contently, lightly patting the soft down of dark curls around his head before resuming her needlepoint. Helaena's words rouse her and she turns her gentle smile to her daughter, glancing down at her work. She gives a little chuckle, though wistful sadness glimmers in her brown eyes.

"Your grandmother was...so kind. She always had a kind word for someone, always wanted to be charitable," she murmurs, setting her embroidery down. She smooths a hand against the back of her daughter's head and sighs softly.

"I remember she had the most BEAUTIFUL voice...I just cannot remember what it sounded like. She hated King's Landing, hated the smell of it. Oldtown was her home. Our home. She used to stitch all my gowns, always made sure to include the Florent sigil of the fox somewhere." Her smile dims a little and she shakes her head. Tears prickle in her eyes but she pushes them down.

"We would sit together for hours while my father and brothers read in the great library. Giggling and stitching. She would always ask the cooks to make my favorite treat--cookies of the richest pumpkin and cinnamon."

Alicent sighed softly and looked down at her children, a lump forming in her throat. "Alyrie Florent was a good woman. An even greater mother," she murmured.

[inheritsnothing]

❛ you look like you've got something to say. ❜ / @dreamedfyre

they had been coexisting in this sitting room, quiet. the silence, however, feels so loud. otto rubs a hand over his mouth, glancing over to his queen, his granddaughter, every so often. how does one speak with her? he has not known the grief of losing a child, only that of a wife. of a brother -- though, he was never close with hobert. his hands clench and unclench, fidgeting in his stress.

to his surprise, she speaks first, and otto's chest tightens at the sound of her voice. when was the last time he had seen heleana smile? he sits there and cannot recall. how long had he not considered her mood, her essence? why does he only seem to care now? "... no, my dear." he says, voice soft, a hint of affection in his haunted tone. "perhaps there is much to say, but the words will not form." how awkward an encounter. how uncomfortable. "... how are you faring, my granddaughter? may i be your confidante once more?"

[korzionarchive]

@dreamedfyre liked for a starter

"You have beautiful children," Rhaenys remarked as she watched them playing in the garden as their mother looked on. "Beautiful and healthy. Your Grace must be proud, as must the King."

[absolventiia]

/ @dreamedfyre, helaena + aurane

liked this starter call.

AURANE steps into his sister's room slowly, as if any sudden sound may scare her. she was not fragile, but time and again it is harder for aurane to remind himself of that fact. she's working on something, he can see, so he simply watches in silence for a few moments, before daring to speak. " HELAENA. " he says smoothly, gaze traveling from her craft to his sister in full. aurane walks in further, running a finger along a small table, as if there may be dust on it ( though there wasn't, of course ). 

" mother requested your presence an hour ago. are you. . . WELL ? " alicent had mentioned helaena acting odd as of late, and yet, to aurane, she was as normal as ever. just helaena, and nothing more. he pauses, crossing his arms. " if you do not wish to go to her, we could perhaps take a walk outside ? " anything to get her out of the bedroom she'd seemed to lock herself away in for hours at a time. aurane looks around, notices how the handmaidens bow their heads nervously, how silent they'd gotten. he had heard, many times, that his presence could occasionally UNNERVE people, but aurane had always had a soft spot for his younger sister. 

[celtigaar]

@dreamedfyre said: ❛  i’ve had nothing but nightmares lately, pretty horrible.  ❜ / lost the meme.

———cerys had noted the dark circles around violet eyes. she frowned and reached for helaena's hand.

❛ i could stay with you tonight, if you should like the company. mayhaps i can frighten the nightmares away. or if you cannot sleep, i could stay awake with you. —would it help to tell me about these nightmares or would you rather not think on them ? ❜

[worthyheir]

❝ When one is never invited to speak, one learns instead to observe. ❞ / @dreamedfyre sent a MEME

He understands that, all too well. He might have more free agency, as a man, but youth keeps his voice from mattering, from being important enough to warrant his words as more than the optimism of innocence. Oft seen as naive, or hopeful, it is not a voice listened to in most cases. Observing becomes a strength, able to understand the conversations around him, even the ones he's not meant to hear.

"I know what you mean." He was not close to his uncles or aunt - the animosity between him, his brothers, and his uncles was not a secret. Hatred stewed towards each other at each meeting, kept under the smokescreen of civility whenever the King was around, who all seemed to recognize did not need to witness their hostilities towards one another. Helaena was a different matter: She had never treated him, or his brothers, cruelly, or different. "I'm sure you observe a lot, here in the Red Keep. Dragonstone is much less exciting."

[quccninchains]

As soon as Aegon had slithered out of her womb and squalled, Alicent knew a plan had been in motion to set Rhaenyra aside. And at the time, she hadn't minded the thought. She had hoped that they would be able to raise Aegon to be a good, kind, and just king. She had hoped to see gratitude in her lord husband's eyes. But even then--her trials, her tribulations were barely acknowledged. Viserys had been overjoyed, of course. But his duties to his son barely lasted as Aegon began walking, talking.

Three more times, Alicent had suffered the injustices of a negligent husband. He had his favorite, his heir. Rhaenyra could do no wrong, no matter how much right Alicent had done.

Helaena had been the only one left to Alicent's care. The only one she'd been allowed to love and nurture. Even Daeron, her youngest--she'd barely been allowed to hold him and nurse him before he was sent off to ward in Oldtown.

She's quiet for a few moments, collecting her thoughts. Alicent flickered her gaze to her daughter and offered up a small smile. "Then may your voice be louder than mine, my love. You must do better than I could," she whispered. "Jaehaerys will be king. But you...you are his mother. You are her mother," she murmured. Her dark gaze lingers on Helaena and she hums softly.

She doesn't say anything for a long time, lost in the memories of her youth. Or what little of it she had. Her wedding had passed in such a blur, and then to be exposed to the indignities of the bedding ceremony. A fresh wave of nausea fills her belly as her maids presented the bloodied sheets to her father and the council. That had been the one thing she had been successful in arguing against for Helaena. She would not know the embarrassment of everyone knowing her consummation.

Five times she had the mortifying task of revealing her pregnancy to Viserys and expected some glimmer of appreciation. Each time ended with a bawdy joke and a proprietorial pat of her belly. And she had to stand there and smile, while a blush of shame colored her nose and cheeks. Four of those times resulted in a child and one, in between Aemond and Daeron was a babe born sleeping. Even then, her husband barely had the grace to offer her compassion. 'We have had three healthy babes. I do not see why the Gods would not give us another in time.'

Alicent shook off her remembered shame and grief, her cool hand grasping Helaena's in her own. "It has been my duty," she whispered softly, her eyes wide with unshed tears. She blinks and tries to smile, her free hand reaching over to lightly cup Helaena's face. "No longer."

"No one must know about Ser Criston and I. I cannot risk him being gelded. I won't...I cannot lose him," she muses, shaking her head. "He is my...my love."

It was always the plan: the Conqueror's name, the Conqueror's sword, the Conqueror's crown, the Conqueror's throne. Aegon lacks his namesake's ambition, however. For now; kingship is growing on him, and it might yet become an acquired taste.

Was that to be the fate of their children as well? To bear the weight of crowns they did not choose to wear, hoping they might grow to enjoy it given time? Helaena knows her own struggles, how strenuous it can be to perform every polished step court demands, even those that seem so simple for most other ladies. Jaehaera is still a child, sweet and clever but quiet and withdrawn. How much more difficult would it be for her, should they wish to make her queen?

Silver hair sways lightly with the gentle shaking of her head ( violet eyes speak of sympathy, blamelessness, reassurance that she knows, that it's not her fault, that none of them ever had any chance ). ❝ No — I understand, ❞ It is easy enough to believe a daughter can be yours. Jaehaerys would never be, not quite, no matter how close she had kept both twins; and the older he got, the more he would be shaped by others for the realm, for the crown, regardless of his happiness or even his mother's wishes. No one minds Jaehaera quite as much. Already they begin separating the two, but where they take him away, they leave her girl in her care.

A matter of time until that, too, changes. ❝ I want Jaehaera to have a choice, ❞ Between the tip of index and thumb, Helaena pulls at each finger in her other hand. It's stupid too. Her daughter won't have a choice. Hope makes a nest in a hidden, tiny corner of her heart, nonetheless.

Its twin, the hope she harbors that her mother's tale might be different, is flimsier than a dragonfly's wings. The ending of that story tells enough of how the tale began.

Would that time could be controlled, past as well as future.

Helaena offers her mother a quiet thank you, and sips the wine, silent, listening. So many years, yet she had not known her own mother's story. Not fully ( not from her point of view ). Is she ready? Could she ever be?

He just announced his intentions at a small council meeting. The violence of it is not physical, is not now, is not directed at her; Helaena flinches as though it were. Mother was not as young then as she had been when wedded to Aegon. Young, still, much younger than father. No one gave Helaena a choice, but neither had Aegon chosen it. Viserys was a king, and he chose Lady Alicent, and he cared not to know her opinion on the matter.

Later, Helaena will resent, useless thing that it will be, when the Seven Hells have already embraced him warmly. Her misgivings toward Viserys as a father were not few ( any former affection tainted by the memory of Driftmark, of his dismissal, of his harsh attention turned on her brothers when Aemond had just lost his eye; destroyed by the disappointment on mother's gaze, most of all ); yet this makes her feel sick.

Curses and spite can wait. No words she may say will make up for what mother faced, for the powerlessness she had been sentenced to. None would suffice. Instead, her glass is set aside, and Helaena gets up to tiptoe to her mother's side, sitting on the floor. Her hand reaches for Alicent's own, somewhere between gentle and firm, but entirely hopeful it might convey her feelings better than the simple ❝ I'm so sorry, ❞ she manages to say.

Does anyone ever marry for love? Not women. No — love for them demands teeth and claws, the fierceness to hold on to it despite what duty demands.

Helaena has yet to know one fiercer than Alicent Hightower. The tale should be different, but if her mother had no say in its beginning, now she is sure to dictate how it ends. Still, it should have been different. You deserved better. ❝ You had to endure so much. ❞

❝ But no longer. ❞ Softspoken and warm, a reassurance her mother is no longer alone. A small comfort, and one that does not erase the past. The only solace there is to be had, all the same.

[wcrriorhearts]

@dreamedfyre continued from here

She dislikes public gatherings. Perhaps not as much as her mother, but Jaehaera prefers the quiet isolation of her nursery to the loud buzz of people drinking and celebrating around her. Unlike her twin brother, who is quite social and likes to mingle, the girl is the exact opposite. Jaehaera does not speak in the presence of strangers, nor does she engage with them. Most people in her surrounding have never heard the girl utter a single word, including her own father, so she will surely not strike up conversations with half drunk courtiers, who pinch her cheeks and tell her for the umpteenth time that she is small for her age and somewhat strange. They do it with affection, but it doesn't soften the sting of their words.

Jaehaera knows that she is growth stunted and odd and doesn't need others to tell her. They believe her to be slow witted due to her silence, but behind the unmoved face lies a sharp mind that she is very able to use. But she has nothing to prove to those people, given that she is just the spare and of no importance to future politics until she is of marrying age. Her brother is heir and should, Gods forbid, anything happen to him, there's Maelor. Girls are just tools to further men's political agendas, something she has already learned at her young age by the way she watches her grandsire scheme and plot. Her own father is not very interested in politics at all, which is probably unfortunate, given he has usurped the throne.

A hand takes hold of her and Jaehaera immediately knows it's her mother's, before her lavender eyes have even fixed on her. She would recognize her among a million people, because she is the only person the girl feels close to. Whisked away into a corner, Haera points over to the dais where Jaehaerys is propped on their father's knee, who is drunk and laughing with his knight, most likely about something inappropriate to her for a child. She has no objection about leaving the feast, because the whole spectacle is wearing her down. Her grandmother has tended to her for the majority of the night, until Haera wandered off after a little mouse she spotted minutes ago. Unlike her mother, she is not particularly fond of insects, but rather small furry creatures, like mice, rats, moles and ferrets. She can tell now that her mother is anxious and wants to escape the loudness of the great hall and the prospect of even more unwanted conversations. "Leave Haerys", she suggests, because her brother seems content and their grandmother and grandsire are still present to watch and return him later. No one trusts their father around the children on his own.

[quccninchains]

{☾} She manages to go from her chambers to Aegon's to the council chambers and back to her own without much fuss. Exhaustion clings to her bones like a cloak. Shame lingers around her form like a wraith but Alicent keeps her head up. At the very least, she did not conceive THREE bastards during her marriage.

At least there was that.

The outrage from the members of the council at her news was expected, masterfully managed by summoning all of her father's shrewdness. There's no impunity on the succession, she's widowed--better than unmarried in terms of honor, and she had the grace to be the regent. She avoided looking at Ser Criston--had suggested that he too, must condemn her in public. Though, his words had admittedly hurt, despite their plan. Lord Jasper had muttered something about writing to her father, tattling on her like she was a CHILD.

She simply smiled and nodded her head. "Feel free to do that, my lord. But only after you and Lord Tyland have seen to the rat catches and their families. See to it that they are given coin for a proper burial."

After narrowly navigating a truly MORTIFYING session of questions and her tactful refusal to name the father of her child, she was ready to return to her chambers and rest. Already her body had begun to change and she was feeling the wrath of the Mother for her sins. Sore in her limbs and chest, nauseous and simultaneously ravenous, and a lingering migraine. But, she would tolerate it without much complaint. For the first time, she would have a child conceived from love, affection. Not from duty and sacrifice.

She's not expecting to see Helaena in her room, but it is a welcomed surprise. Her wan expression warms into a smile as she closes the door behind her. Although they're alone, she still remembers herself and gives a little curtsy. "Hello sweetling, how are you doing this day?" Her voice is soft as she steps out of her slippers, settling down in the armchair by her fire. She gestures for her daughter to sit, leaning back against the chair.

Silent for a moment, she lifts her gaze from the blanket now draped over her waist, and glances at her daughter. "...you have heard then?"

| @dreamedfyre (did not ask for this but it had to happen <3)

[drcrysz]

@dreamedfyre, DREAMFYRE && helaena ( cont. )

The scent of smoke and dragon had ever been oddly soothing; a result of their bond, perhaps, of having another soul entwined with her own. Helaena takes solace in the companionship, the familiarity, the pleasant warmth as her palm presses upon Dreamfyre's blue scales and she leans against her dragon in a silent greeting of her own. There is little in the world that is familiar and comforting, now. Less still that is within her reach. The young queen wishes her arms could hold Dreamfyre, a tight embrace on her living flame, or that she could melt into her scales, become one, disappear. Her hand lingers a moment longer, a gentle caress offered to the enormous creature ( the best of friends ) even after Helaena confirms in a silent nod that she would wish to fly. Dreamfyre's very presence may be soothing, but nothing compares to having her beloved companion take her to the skies. How lucky Helaena is, to have been chosen by her. How unworthy. She remembers being a girl of ten and flying with Dreamfyre for the first time. After their bond had been sealed, she had been obsessed with Queen Rhaena, her dragon's first rider and the only one until her. Parts of her story come to her amidst melancholy, even the usual contentment of climbing on dragonback abated and muted. Rhaena's daughter, Aerea, had met a tragic end. Time and again the woman took to the skies with Dreamfyre, eager to find her child, yet she never did. Rhaena was only given her daughter's ashes to do with as she saw fit. Was it worse, not knowing until after the fact? Would Rhaena have preferred to be there for her child's final moments? Mayhaps; but every mother would think of it with the wish to try to save their child in mind, or to give them comfort in the end. She had been there, yet managed neither. All she did was watch her son's head be cut off and hold his lifeless body, drenched in his blood. It never left her. She can still smell the metallic scent, feel the stickiness in her hands, see the red stain upon her skin. Helaena remembers her little boy, lifeless and pale, and the stitches they had done to parade his body throughout the city. She remembers, and she wants to cry, but even that she cannot manage anymore. There is another little boy in the Red Keep, hers, but this one she cannot bear to think of.

❝ Dreamfyre, sōvēs,❞ The command to fly is given with the ease of one who has done this half her life. And if her despair bleeds over in her voice as she gives away control as soon as possible ( We go anywhere you wish. ), eager for freedom, relief, distance ( Anywhere but here. ), can she be blamed? ❝ Skoriot jaelilū jī. Mirriot yn kesīr.❞ Had Rhaena, too, poisoned herself with guilt? She wants to apologize. Say she is sorry for her absence, sorry they haven't flown together in so long, whereas before Helaena was only ever kept away by external forces. She wants to tell Dreamfyre she missed her, and longed to come sooner, yet the desire to vanish had been stronger, the very idea of leaving her rooms and pretending to be a person overwhelming. She wants to be glad to be here, to see it as the positive sign those around her take it to be. Yet there is a part of her that died with the first little boy she had given life to, and another that writhes in agony at how monstrous she had been to the second. There are many theories about the bond between dragon and rider. For once Helaena hopes it is not so deep that Dreamfyre should sense her feelings. Not that she would care to conceal them, for no part of her heart was ever secret to Dreamfyre. Rather, she would not wish for another to experience even an inkling of this pain — much less one so beloved.

DREAMFYRE wonders where they are now. those eggs that have been lost to time. three of them-- beautiful and shining and new, some sort of hope. there are many times where dreamfyre thinks of rhaena, too. oh, how often they spent RUNNING, from this or that. from king's landing, to dragonstone, to casterly rock, to harrenhal. on and on they ran. she's stayed in the dragonmont, in the dragon pits, in a stable cleared out especially for her, in dark and dreary harrenhal, where it always seemed to rain. those eggs had been there. and then they were gone. rhaena had been there, and now she, too, was gone.

now there was helaena. sweet, grieving helaena.

DREAMFYRE was not a stranger to grief. she recalls names, places, GHOSTS of people long gone -- some for the better, some for the worse. she has grieved TOO MANY times. so to feel helaena's sorrow, it digs under her scales, heightens her awareness, softens the gaze in her eyes as she hears helaena say anywhere. ANYWHERE ? across the sea ? pentos ? essos ? the shadowlands ? but no, helaena did not truly mean anywhere. dreamfyre had an idea though, so as helaena readies herself into her saddle, she takes to the skies. the day was bright, despite the low mood of rider and dragon. the pale blue goes at a decent clip, not too fast or slow. she was eager to LEAVE, but was not ESCAPING.

they soar across sky and towards the sea. the warmth was NICE, despite it all, and still, DREAMFYRE dips down, claw falling into sea foam and waves, leaving behind a silver trail as she drags her foot through water. perhaps she bothers a few fishing boats nearby, rocking their fragile wooden frames. she wanted to speak to helaena. wanted to comfort and croon and weep for things long gone. the boy. her eggs. children, each. lonely mothers tend to group together, didn't they ? she settles for a something soft, almost a whisper. ( I UNDERSTAND ), she wishes to convey. i understand more than most, perhaps. dragon's lives were not short ( usually ), and dreamfyre was positive more pain was on the horizon ; the boy's death was not going to be answered with silence. only more death. FIRE AND BLOOD, goes the old chant. they would make good on it.

eventually, the she - dragon LANDS on a beach. not too far from king's landing, but far enough. dreamfyre did not want helaena in any danger, of course. she remembers rhaena riding her like this. again and again and again they searched, in vain. perhaps it was a MERCY, for helaena to know. to understand where her son was, what occurred. perhaps it was a curse. perhaps it didn't matter EITHER WAY. he was dead. he would not be coming back. dreamfyre LOWERS as an offering to drop helaena against the sands, the ocean waves, if she so wished. if she did not move, DREAMFYRE would continue.

[dreamedfyre]

{ DREAMEDFYRE } , an independent &. selective rp blog for HELAENA TARGARYEN from the universe of a song of ice and fire and lightly influenced by house of the dragon. this highly headcanon reliant portrayal is lovingly crafted by mel ( she/her, 25+ ). originally est. 2022 as fyredreamt.

               𝐈. carrd.                              𝐈𝐈. prompts.                              𝐈𝐈𝐈. headcanons.

[celtigaar]

cerys suddenly regretting letting @lvscinvs touch her with his family around

[worthyheir]

META   + being heir to the throne

*         send   META   +   a   word   ,   a   name   ,   or   phrase   and   i   will   write   a   head  canon   based   off   of   this   !!! 

Jace was raised to be the heir to the Iron Throne. He has known since he was small, though he cannot remember the exact day he was named heir, that he would rule after his mother, and took his inheritance seriously. He studied High Valyrian and is fluent in it, he studied the histories of Westeros and as much as he can from his Targaryen line before (which there is not much written), and he has watched his mother, his father, his step-father, his grandfather, his step-grandmother, the hand of the King --- all of them, as closely as he is able. There is not a greed for power, simply an acceptance of his future and his inheritance, and his desire to keep the realm at peace and prosperity. It is almost all he has known of his future.

[sunfyredarchive]

send 'be honest...' and my muse answers truthfully | accepting

【 @dreamedfyre sent a raven】: "be honest... would you have preferred to run away to essos ?" (even if it meant leaving the rest of us behind ? even jaehaerys ?)

"i .. i was desperate and cowardly enough to believe that is what i wanted back then, but i know the truth now. i know i would have spent a lifetime in immense regret and much more self-loathing than before, having left my family in great peril to save my own skin. perhaps i would live longer, and healthier, and my days would be filled with more of what i believed to be joy— but it is still not the kind of life i wish to live. always running. always alone. always remembered with nothing but sheer contempt, even by those i once held dear."

i would have asked you to come with me, you know. you, and our babes, but i knew even then you would never do such thing .. not for me. not with me.

[wcrriorhearts]

@dreamedfyre said: [ wipe ] sender wipes away receiver's tears (for jaehaera)

Silent tears rolled down the girl's cheeks and she stifled a sniff as her mother wiped some of the wetness from her cheek. Jaehaera was not one for big emotions and rarely wept, because she didn't like to show her feelings that outwardly, but some occasions made it impossible to contain her sorrow and this was one of them. Maelor, being barely more than a babe and not entirely aware of the repercussions of his actions yet, had taken two of Haera's most beloved wooden animals and thrown them into the fire during a tantrum, because she had taken them from him several times in the past hour. He was not good at sharing and didn't understand the concept of belongings yet, so he just took whatever he wanted from his siblings. Needless to say, the twins did not support that, though Haera had not expected him to just throw the toys away like that. She wasn't entirely sure if he had truly aimed at the fire, or they had just landed there accidentally, but the effect stayed the same. Wiping her own eyes with one sleeve, Haera looked pitifully at her mother. "Sad", she said quietly, because she was indeed very sad and upset about the occurrence. The girl was quite attached to her toys and now two of her dear friends were missing.

[quccninchains]

| @dreamedfyre sent: "Mother," She is very serious. "I want to become a septa instead of marrying Aegon."

{☾} She HATES that she can't whisk Helaena away from this particular unpleasantness. Alicent says nothing, her gaze flickering from the ladies who stood by. A gentle nod dismisses them and she picks up the brush, sitting behind her daughter.

"As wonderful a Septa you would make," she murmurs, smoothing the brush through silver hair. Discussions for her daughter to marry had begun since Helaena was a mere child. From proposals to marry her off to local NOBLES or even one of Rhaenyra's bastard sons...the decision was made without her mother's consent.

In keeping with the customs, Helaena would wed Aegon. It mattered not that Alicent protested, complained--she even tried TEARS to move her husband and father. Though she'd carried and birthed her children, had LOVED them as well as she could with all of the outside influences of living in the Keep--her voice as their mother mattered NAUGHT.

More fracture lines cracked into her heart. She was FAILING.

Alicent continued her gentle ministrations, carefully brushing her daughter's hair before bed. "You must marry. And your marriage is of the council and the crown's choice," she sighed wearily, shaking her head.