twin flames | daemon targaryen

thirty-nine

As Rhaella walked from the Small Council chambers in the direction of Helaena's chambers in the Holdfast, her mind was running rampant with theories, explanations, and plans. She could not comprehend how things could have changed so drastically in so little time.

A year before at the time of Baelon and Rhaena's wedding, everything had been fine. The Red Keep resembled the symbol of Targaryen wealth and power just as it had in her youth. The walls had been covered with intricate tapestries and paintings both commissioned by her ancestors and gifted by allies, each telling the history of the house of fire and blood.

When walking through the corridors of the Keep those days during the wedding celebrations, Rhaella recognized nearly everyone she passed. The lords and ladies would smile and nod to her, asking her for an invite to the parties she had been holding in the gardens or making requests for women's court later that day.

Most of all, her father had been happy and healthy. Viserys had not been as he had been in Rhaella's youth and had not been for some time, but for Baelon and Rhaena's wedding, he had managed to stand on his own and walk without assistance for the most part. Viserys could speak with his children and grandchildren without running out of breath or coughing up blood, maintaining the jolly personality they all knew so well.

Now? Now things were different.

Viserys's condition had worsened dramatically in the time Rhaella had been away from him. Her father was closer to death than he had ever been before, and that frightened Rhaella more than she could put into words. Not only was she fearful of losing him as her father, but she was fearful of losing him as a king. With Viserys dead, the realm would no doubt be put into chaos, let alone their family. Their patriarch, their shining light, would be gone.

As Rhaella walked through the corridors she had grown up in, thoughts of her father's condition filling her mind, the tapestries and paintings of Targaryen history and the allies of the house of dragons were gone. Instead, Rhaella passed seven-pointed stars and paintings of the Faith. Red and black curtains and fabrics were replaced with green and black, and bit by bit, Rhaella watched as her ancestry was hidden away.

With Ser Robert at her side for protection, Rhaella continued to interact with the courtiers they passed on their way to Helaena's chambers, but hardly any stopped to talk, skittering away from view or simply watching and whispering with those around them as she passed by.

Rhaella had never felt more like a stranger in the Red Keep than she did on that journey to the Holdfast, surrounded by stars and green banners and courtiers who gossiped from the sides.

"Princess?" Ser Robert asked softly.

The sworn shield had been watching the princess their entire journey, recognizing how her expression soured with each passing courtier and seven-pointed star they walked by. The silence that had settled between them was unfamiliar to Robert, who had grown used to the idle conversations he and Rhaella shared over the 20 years he had been in her service. Now, only the clinking of his silver armor was heard between them.

While to those they passed in the corridors of the Red Keep, Rhaella may have looked as kind and peaceful as she was famously known to be, but Robert could recognize the little twitches of her lips and the furrowings of her brows that signaled how upset she was. Add these signs with how pale she was and the dark circles under her eyes, and Robert was concerned.

"Ser?"

"Are you alright, Princess?" Robert asked. Rhaella let out a puff of air, her hands clutched tightly in front of her stomach.

"I am alright, I'm just tired. And worried."

"Worried?" Ser Roebert inquired. Rhaella grimaced and shook her head slightly, her amethyst eyes sweeping across the corridor.