The Rightful King [ HELAENA TARGARYEN ]

𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚘𝚗

The once cold halls of the Red Keep had seen bloodshed and sorrow, but today they brimmed with a very rare kind of joy. The twins' birth had been a triumph in more ways more than one. For all that the husband and wife had been through, this was there moment of peace and closure to their past. The people of King's Landing buzzed with the news of their arrival: Prince Rhaegar and Princess Aemma, the newest member of House Targaryen, were healthy, and the Queen, Helaena, had survived the difficult birth without further complication. The tension that had gripped the court for months was finally giving way to celebration.

In the Great Halls, banners of red and black hung proudly, and the air was filled with the scent of roasted meats, fresh bread, and spiced wine. Lords and ladies from across the realm had gathered to pay their respects and congratulate the royal family. But amid all the grandeur, it was Rhaegon and Helaena who commanded the room, not just as rules, but as a family—a normalcy that was not seen much in the generation that came before them.

Rhaegon, often known for his cold demeanor and the iron grip which he had held the throne, was nearly unrecognizable in his momentary state. Dressed in his finest black and red robes, he stood beside his wife, Helaena, one arm protectively around her waist as she cradled little Aemma in her arms. Little Rhaegar rested in Rhaegon's own arms, a sight that had sent murmurs rippling through the gathered lords and ladies. What many do not know was Rhaegar was his most calm in the arms of his father. The King, who had brought the realm to the knee through sheer force and relentless brutal will, was now holding his son with the gentleness of a man who would do anything and everything to keep his family safe.

For all the fearsome tales whispered about Rhaegon—the merciless wrath he unleashed upon his enemies, the ruthless decisions that had crushed any threat to his rule—none could deny the warmth and softness that radiated from him as he gazed down at his wife and children.

"They are perfect, aren't they?" Helaena whispered softly, her eyes shimmering with tears of happiness as she stroked Aemma's soft cheeks with her thumb.

"They are," Rhaegon responded, his voice was as tender and filled with pride as his eyes were as he looked at his little family. "More than I would have ever hoped for." His gaze flickered over to Helaena, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
You have given me everything, Helaena. You have given the realm hope as much as you did me."

The sight was almost surreal for those watching. The King's usual stoicism had melted away, replaced by a deep affection that he made no effort to hide in this moment of celebration. Rhaegon's gaze never strayed far from his wife or their children, and the way he looked at Helaena made it clear to all that could witness that she was more than just his Queen—she was his heart, the glimpse of what little humanity he still had in this world.

As guest approached to offer their congratulations, they witnessed an unfamiliar side of Rhaegon. He accepted their well-wished with a warmth rarely seen, though his attention never strayed, mostly it was on Helaena and the twins. Rhaegon's usual scowl was absent. Instead, he laughed softly, tightening his hold on his son.