Dream Of Winter | C. Stark & H. Targaryen

Wildest Dreams

A/N: A new chapter. Hopefully you're enjoying the story. Make sure to vote and leave a comment.

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Helaena POV

Drip. Drip. Drop.

A trickle to a flood. The blood flowed.

From east to west. North to south. And back again.

A false sea dragon's remains recovered from the embrace of the cold waves.

The song of fire and blood began.

An eye for a dragon was no true exchange.

A son for a son. A mad mummer's ploy for the throne.

**

The dragon princess spent days drifting across purgatory. Her dreams made her their captive. Forever intertwined with the past and the future. She couldn't decide if steering away from fate actually cemented it.

She hoped not.

Do the Gods relish being such cruel masters?

To warn a seer of calamity too late to stop it. Merely wonder what could've been done and suffer more in the aftermath for not changing the outcome.

She fought and clawed from the depthless black sea to the shore. Her younger brother's dream shone like a beacon in the distant. Like the shimmering crystal atop the Hightower of Oldtown.

She ran across the slippery sands of time. Blood was left in her wake.

Thunder and lightning roared overhead. The storm brought down heavy rains. The ocean surged in response. As if Heleana was Durran Godsgrief in the flesh facing the wrath of the deities.

She ran some more.

Her son called her forth.

Jaehaerys. His trusting eyes filled with horror. How does such a small child have so much blood.

Th thought nearly made her keel over. She might've just left the tidal waves claim her vessel. The memory was from a future that could've been. A dark morose reality. Their House words were made flesh.

This pain is still very real. It overwhelmed every part of her being. Left her trembling with grief. Mad with rage.

The Seven. The Old Gods. The Mother Rhoyne. R'hollor. Every heavenly pantheon must turn a blind eye to the suffering of mortals if such a thing could happen.

Her strength was nearly depleted.

She walked nonetheless.

Finally she reached her brother's nightmare. Of course this is what it was.

Aemond had died on Driftmark long before he faced that accursed kinslayer atop the God's eye.

She traced a delicate finger on the arm of a ten year old boy with the bravery of a warrior of legend. He shivered with fever. Her mother stood at his side clutching his right hand, praying he survives the night.

Should he. Is her son's life less important than his.

She banished that horrible thought. Resented it even crossing her mind.

Her uncle's sins are legion. He had no need of motive to act against her family. The crown was all he wanted.

She placed both her hands on Aemond's face. The visions traveled from her mind to his.

The boy screamed in pain. Her memories drowned him. Burned him alive. Pierced his body and soul.

She shared them all the same. She won't ever look to closely at the darker part of her mind that didn't even flinch.