SHADOWS OF THE PAST //HOUSE OF THE DRAGON//

Chapter 6

The Great Hall was a tempest of voices, a cacophony of worry and speculation echoing through the high, vaulted ceiling. Guards stood against the walls, their expressions tense, while lords and ladies huddled in small clusters, their anxious whispers blending into the storm's unrelenting roar outside. At the center of the commotion were Alicent, Viserys, and Rhaenyra, with the boys gathered close behind them.

Aemond stood near the edge of the hall, arms folded, his gaze fixed on the floor. "What if she has wandered outside? The storm could be dangerous," he muttered, glancing up to catch his mother's worried look.

Aegon, leaning lazily against a wall, let out a sharp laugh. "You're all overreacting. She's probably just hiding, seeking a bit of peace away from all this nonsense," he said, his tone flippant and dismissive. "Let's not forget, she's always been a bit... peculiar."

Alicent's face was pale, her eyes wide with a frantic energy as she wrung her hands together. "We've searched every corner," she said, her voice strained and hoarse from hours of calling Helaena's name. "the servants' quarters, the library, even the cellars! She's nowhere to be found." Her gaze darted desperately to the king. "Viserys, what if—"

The doors to the Great Hall creaked open, and the crowd fell silent as Helaena walked in, her expression calm and serene. Her bare feet made no sound as she crossed the threshold, her white nightgown flowing around her like a ghostly veil. There was a stillness in her eyes, a quiet that seemed untouched by the chaos that had consumed the castle.

"Helaena!" Alicent cried out, rushing to her daughter's side and wrapping her arms around her. "Where have you been?" Her voice broke with a mixture of relief and reprimand as she pulled Helaena close, her hand gently stroking her hair. "We were so worried..."

Helaena stood in her mother's embrace, her eyes half-closed as though waking from a dream. She did not seem to notice the distress in the room, nor the anxious faces that stared at her. Instead, she spoke with a quiet clarity that silenced the murmurs around her. "He has come," she said, her voice carrying an eerie calm. "I heard him. He came to me in my dreams" Her gaze drifted upward as if seeing beyond the high ceiling, into a place only she could reach.

Confusion rippled through the hall. "What do you mean?" Rhaenyra pressed, concern etched across her face. "Who came to you?"

There was a moment of stunned silence before the doors opened again, with a low, ominous creak that seemed to echo throughout the hall. All eyes turned towards the entryway, and the air grew thick with anticipation, the hairs on the back of many necks standing on end.

He stepped into the hall, his presence commanding the space before him like the calm eye of a storm, tall and graceful, wore a long, dark nightgown that clung to his lean frame, the deep crimson fabric embroidered with subtle silver dragons that caught the flickering torchlight. His long, silver-white hair fell in smooth down his back, carefully combed and glistening as if freshly washed, a stark contrast against the dark colors he wore. His violet eyes, as intense as the storm raging outside, swept over the hall with a quiet authority that demanded respect.

For a moment, he seemed like a figure out of legend—a Targaryen prince from the days of old, conjured back from the pages of history. Even the servants paused in their movements, some clasping their hands to their mouths, for the man before them was as much a part of the castle's stories as its very stones. He walked with measured grace, his footsteps steady and unhurried, his gaze passing over the gathering with a calm detachment as if he were more a specter than a man.

Viserys froze, his breath catching in his throat as he sat on the throne. His old eyes widened with disbelief as he stared at the figure now standing in the Great Hall, a memory long buried rising to greet him. "Rhaegar..." he whispered, his voice scarcely audible, as if he did not quite believe what he was seeing.

Lord Lyonel Strong, the Hand of the King, stood near the throne, his brow furrowing deeply as he took in the sight of the man who had entered. He had never seen Rhaegar Targaryen in life, but the face before him matched the drawings from the histories and the painting king Viserys had in his chamber—the same finely carved features, the same silver hair, and violet eyes. The resemblance was unmistakable. His expression shifted from confusion to shock, his lips parting slightly as the realization dawned upon him.

"Impossible..." Lyonel breathed, his usually composed voice betraying a hint of awe. 

"By the gods" Ser Harrold murmured, his voice quavering. "This cannot be..." as he saw him when he was just a young inexperienced knight back in the day. He was still unchanged, not touched by time.

Rhaegar's gaze settled on Viserys, the faintest hint of recognition glinting in his eyes. There was a softness in his expression as he looked upon his younger brother, who now wore the crown that once would have been his. Yet beneath that gentleness lingered something darker—an unfathomable grief, a despair that had grown cold and deep with time.

He spoke, his voice low and smooth, yet carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken sorrows. "viserys," he said simply, as if those words alone were enough to explain his presence as if they had been waiting to be spoken for many years.

Helaena, still standing in her mother's arms, looked up at Rhaegar with a serene expression, as though she had expected him all along. Her eyes shimmered with a strange light as if she could see far beyond the world around them.

The Great Hall remained silent, the storm outside intensifying as if the sky itself had recognized the arrival of the one-time prince. No one spoke, for there were no words to encompass the magnitude of what they had just witnessed. Rhaegar Targaryen stood among them, not as a phantom from tales, but as a man of flesh and blood, and the ripples of his presence would soon spread far beyond the walls of the Red Keep.

Excited for next chapter?