#helaena has sown this moment in my heart and now its stuck there ... good i never want it to leave

[heirtargaryen]

thumb gently pressed against the back of helaena's hand , right below her thumb ; a light pressure that soon dragged in a slow , circular motion against soft , fair skin - purposeful yet idle all in one , something sought out to do yet feeling like second nature ; rhaenyra was always fond of physical contact , how it was the easiest in all of the languages to say : i'm here , you're here . we are no longer alone as long as our skin connects .  the easiest form of expression , while the targaryen tongue was a trait possessed , knowing what to say in any situation . the words could often weigh heavy on the mind , soul &. spirit -  it was always better to leave such at the door , especially in moments like these , in moments where they weren't needed at all .

the fire grazes across her own skin comfortably ; revealing in the heat that it is gifted . the restless flickering , the powerful orange &. red that urged to break past the controlled burn was the same energy that flowed through their blood , eating them alive until there was nothing left but the destructive aftermath . though fire was many things ; destructive , violent - devouring anything in its path . . . that was merely part of it .   what was failed to be acknowledge is how misunderstood it was : fire was also familiarity , the element that brings people together to tell stories &. laugh beside it - it was the feeling of walking in your home from a long day &. instantly being eloped in comfort ; it was the slow relaxing muscles &. heavy lids as it soothed you into sleep ; it was the element that made people feel lighter .

the latter is something the targaryens sometimes missed out on for violence &. chaos is all they know . helaena , however , wasn't tainted in the same way she was - thank the gods for that - rhaenyra believes she's the perfect embodiment of the purer side of what it means to be born in flames ; not the part that's so feared , but to be welcomed with opened arms .

❛ oh , that wont do at all ❜ rhaenyra tuts , the gentle smile gracing lips never leaving - why would it ?   ❛   if you want company - how about tomorrow afternoon we hunt down the right thread together ? not being able to immortalize the poor thing seems like a sin  ❜ there's no mockery or teasing , in fact , rhaenyra even might feel a little excited to be able to do something other than her duties that have trapped her in recent years ; an afternoon with helaena was far more enjoyable  ❛ perhaps you could even show me how you embryoid the wings - i've never been very good at such things, needle &. thread is an art that eludes me .  ❜

There was a terrible falling, a plummeting towards the ravenous sea below them. The waves churned angrily in a storm. No, no that wasn't right. They were standing by the fireplace, her and Rhaenyra. Her half sister's face was illuminated by the flames and Helaena was reminded (not for the first time) that a Targaryen looked best in firelight, in the same way that others looked enchanting by the light of the moon. Of course, the princess needed no firelight to shine, as her face naturally exuded her strength and charisma. Helaena didn't shine like her older sister, but then again, no one really did, except maybe Aemond. It was something in her countenance, a certain ineffable quality that few possessed.

She smiled at the other woman's outstretched hand and placed slender fingers in her palm. It would be nice to sit together here, side by side, and warm up a bit. The wind was so bitterly cold, and the rain stung her face like a hundred needles. Only it wasn't just rain falling from the sky-- there was so much blood! But where was it coming from? She couldn't say, it was so hard to see. The sky bore down on them without mercy, and somewhere, distantly, she thought she could hear her brother's voice.

There was no blood, no rain or wind, nor was there a sea. She was perfectly safe, sitting with her sister. The fire crackled before them and Helaena blinked and tried to smile. She looked to Rhaenyra for comfort, for reassurance, for stability. Her sister was unbothered, her hair dry and perfect. She was warm and kind and bright. She didn't deserve so much grief.

"I found an ant with wings today," Helaena said. "I thought I might embroider it, only I haven't the right color thread." The rain seemed further away now. She could hear crickets outside the window. Maybe there had never been any rain at all. She gave Rhaenyra's hand a gentle squeeze. Ants were a much happier subject than drowning. "It's difficult to get the wings just right-- because of the texture," she explained.