The Rightful King [ HELAENA TARGARYEN ]

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝

The journey to Harrenhal was one Rhaegon Targaryen did not relish. He did not wish to visit the very place a good friend and mentor of his had perished not long ago. The cursed castle, with its dark history and reputation for misfortune, was a place he would have preferred to avoid at all cost. However, he also knew the strategic importance of Harrenhal in the ongoing efforts to rebuild the realm after the war could not be ignored. With a heavy heart, he prepared to leave King's Landing, knowing the duty called him away from Helaena.

As he stood by the carriage, Rhaegon turned to his wife, who looked up at him with evident concern etched on her face. "Do you really have to go alone?" Helaena asked, her voice filled with worry.

"I must, it's a duty I need to do alone." Rhaegon replied, cupping her face in his hand. He did not want her to be in harm's way. "Harrenhal needs my attention. The rebuilding efforts there are critical. But I'll return as soon as I can. I promise you."

Helaena nodded, though her heart ached at the thought of him leaving. "Be safe, Rhaegon. And come back to me in one piece."

He smiled cupping her cheeks and kissed her gently, his resolve firm. "I will. Take care of things here while I'm gone."

With a final embrace, Rhaegon climbed into the carriage, and soon, the gates of King's Landing receded into the distance. The journey to Harrenhal was uneventful, but as the imposing silhouette of the castle loomed on the horizon, a sense of foreboding settled over him.

Once at Harrenhal, Rhaegon threw himself into the task at hand. He inspected the reconstruction efforts, met with the builders and laborers, and ensured that progress was being made. The castle's ruins were slowly being transformed, but the atmosphere remained heavy, the weight of its dark history palpable and consumed him slowly but surely.

As the day wore on, Rhaegon began to feel the effects of the castle's curse. It started with unsettling dreams, images of fire and shadows haunting his sleep. His past he tried so much to avoid coming to haunt him in his temporary chambers. He dismissed them at first, attributing them to the stress of his responsibilities. But soon, the dreams spilled into his waking hours.

One evening, when everyone had settled in for the night, he stood in the great hall, he saw a figure out of the corner of his eye. Turning quickly, he was met with the ghostly visage of his mother, Aemma Arryn. Her eyes filled with sorrow, and she reached out to him, her voice a whisper on the wind. "Rhaegon, why did you leave me?"

Slowly the figure deteriorated, blood pooling onto her stomach and fell onto the ground where she stood. Slowly, the woman that he had loved the most and whose heart he broke first. The being in front of him screeched in howling pain, he begins to remember the letter he received of her death and his choice not to come to her funeral—out of fear of his decision being the very reason for her death. If he did stay, his father would not have wished for another son. He would still have his mother then.