𝑨 𝑺𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝑯𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 // 𝑨𝒆𝒈𝒐𝒏 𝑰𝑰 𝑻𝒂𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒓𝒚𝒆𝒏

83. His Purpose In Life

Up, down, up, down...

Helaena sat by the window in her room, her needle dancing across the fabric with quick, deliberate motions.

"up, down, up, down..." she muttered to herself as if telling the needle what to do, her gaze fixed and unblinking as she worked. The needle moved quickly and efficiently, but there was an edge to her movements, a tension in her expression that spoke of a deeper turmoil within her.

She worked mechanically, her mind else where. The silence in the room was broken only by the soft sound of the needle passing through the fabric and the twins who sat mindlessly by the empty fireplace.

Helaena continued to work, her fingers moving as if possessed. She mumbled under her breath, words that only she understood. "Up, down, up, down...again and again and again."

She felt disconnected from herself, like an observer watching her own body move. The rhythm of her work was almost hypnotic, but there was a strange emptiness in her eyes. She hadn't felt like this in a while, it all came in periods. Unannounced and out of control.

Her eyes were unfocused, her expression unreadable. It was as if she was trapped in the routine of her work, her mind caught in a loop of repetition. "Beware the beast, up, down, up-"

Helaena was so lost in her work that she jumped at the sudden touch on her shoulder. Her needle jabbed into the fabric, and she let out a soft gasp of surprise.

She looked up to see Daeron standing next to her, his hand on her shoulder. Her eyes widened for a moment, her heart still racing from the shock.

Daeron looked at Helaena with a mix of concern and curiosity. "You're quite aggressive with your work there," he chuckled to perhaps lighten the mood. "Are you alright, Hel?"

She paused for a moment, her needle hovering over the fabric. She looked down at her hand, noticing for the first time how tightly she was gripping the needle and relaxed her grip slightly.

"Praise comes to the one who stands on top of the stone," she said, her eyes fixed on the needle moving in and out of the fabric. "Nothing else matters then." Her voice was soft, almost trance-like as she spoke.

Her words, although cryptic, carried a strange sense of conviction. She seemed utterly fixated on her work, her mind detached from everything else around her.

Daeron furrowed his brow, his concern growing. He knew that Helaena often spoke in riddles and metaphors, but this seemed different. "Helaena," he said softly, his hand still on her shoulder. "What do you mean by that?"

Helaena didn't answer immediately, her eyes still fixed on the needle moving in and out of the fabric. She seemed to be lost in her own world, trapped in the repetition of her work. Daeron waited patiently, watching her work. He knew that Helaena was often lost in her own thoughts, and that she sometimes struggled to express herself. But there was something different about her today - she seemed especially detached, her movements more frantic and aggressive than usual.

"I'm afraid"

Daeron's expression softened as he heard her words, his grip on her shoulder tightening slightly as he kneeled in front of her too look her in the eye. The hand that held hwr shoulder instead touched her hand.

"What are you afraid of, Helaena?" he asked, gently. Perhaps if he was calm and soft she would open herself more.

Helaena's hand paused in its work and gaze shifted to Daeron, her eyes distant and empty, not at all showing any fear.

"The beast... " her words were barely above a whisper but the word carried a heavy weight.

Aegon pushed open the door of Alyssa's chamber with a weary sigh. His footsteps were silent as he entered the room, his mind churning with thoughts of the day's events. He had done nothing but thinking about how much he wanted to see her. Those weeks without her had been torture and the event in the sept that night, where she could have been killed, made it even more impossible to stay away.