The Power Of Prophecy

Of Hunger and Steel

Daena stepped out of the library, Meris following close behind her, speaking in a low voice that carried the weight of grim news. “The people of King’s Landing are growing more desperate with each passing day,” Meris said, her tone urgent. “The blockade is tightening. Food is becoming scarcer, and now the King’s ban on the fishing boats has only made it worse. Even the fish are disappearing, and the people… they’re starting to turn on one another. The hunger — it’s driving them to violence.”

Daena’s brow furrowed, her heart heavy with the knowledge. She had seen the signs of unrest, the thin, hollow-eyed stares of those wandering the streets, but hearing it spelled out like this was a different matter. “What did Aemond think would happen?” she muttered, more to herself than to Meris. “He’s starving his own people.”

Meris hesitated before responding, her voice cautious. “He believes it will pressure Rhaenyra to lift the siege. But hunger can make even good men do terrible things.”

Daena felt a knot tighten in her chest, the weight of responsibility pressing down on her. She had to do something, anything, to help. “I promise,” she said, her voice firm, though the uncertainty gnawed at her, “I’ll try to speak with him. There must be something we can do.”

As they continued down the hallway, Daena’s eyes caught a figure standing still by one of the tall windows. Helaena, her pale hair catching the light, was gazing out with a distant sadness in her eyes. Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her, her posture stiff as she looked down at the city below. Daena gently motioned for Meris to hold back and approached her sister-in-law with a soft smile.

“Helaena,” Daena said softly as she neared, the usual gentleness in her tone. “Are you all right?”

Helaena didn’t turn to look at her at first, her gaze still fixed on the city below. “You smell like dragon,” she said quietly, her voice carrying a hint of something light, almost teasing.

Daena smiled at that, despite the heaviness in the air. “Meris,” she called over her shoulder, “would you prepare a bath for me? Apparently, I’m unbearable to be around.”

Meris nodded and disappeared down the hall, leaving the two women alone. Helaena finally glanced at Daena, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “I saw you flying,” she said. “Even from here, you looked… happy.”

Daena’s expression softened. She could see the nostalgia in Helaena’s eyes, the longing she didn’t dare voice. “You could come with me next time,” Daena suggested gently. “Fly on Dreamfyre. I’m sure she misses you.”

Helaena’s gaze dropped to the floor, and she shook her head slowly. “I haven’t flown in so long. She might not even recognize me.”

Daena stepped closer. “You know that’s not true. Dragons never forget their riders. She’ll remember you the moment she feels you near. And maybe… it would be good for you.”

Helaena hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. For a moment, it seemed as if she might agree, but then her face clouded over. “No,” she said quietly, her voice tightening. “If Aemond sees me flying again… he’ll want to use me. I can’t give him any more reasons.”

Daena’s heart ached at the resigned tone in Helaena’s voice. She reached out and gently touched her arm. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

Helaena nodded, but her eyes remained distant, as if she were considering things too heavy to say aloud. Yet there was something different about her today — something more present. Her gaze was clearer, less clouded than usual. Daena noticed it immediately, as if she had been pulled out of her usual fog.