Chapter Text
The feast ended on a high note. The battered faces of the bastards satisfied the burning rage in Aemond's chest, at least for the moment. If it weren't for Daemon, things could have ended even worse… or even better? Well, judging by the One-Eyed Prince's reaction, definitely better.
He walked out of the dining hall with measured steps, everyone staring at his back, and only one person's gaze was more concerned than judgmental.
Helaena stood next to her grandfather. She bent one arm, hiding her suddenly frozen hand under the other. Lips were pressed together, and frightened eyes were wet. Because of the fight? No. Because of the realization of the mistake.
She was lost in her thoughts, oblivious to the commotion around: servants were bustling around the table, the maester hurried into the hall and rushed to her nephews, mother was talking about something with Rhaenyra and Daemon, and Aegon was drinking wine straight from the jug. Someone touched her shoulder, forcing Helaena reluctantly to surface from the whirlpool of the thoughts. She raised her head.
“Return to your chambers,” Otto said softly and touched his granddaughter's shoulder again, patting it lightly.
Her face showed nothing but distraction, eyebrows slightly furrowed, lower lip trembling.
“Escort the princess to her chambers,” Otto ordered, nodding toward the servants.
The maids bowed instantly and hurried to the princess. They recognized her condition as inadequate, reached out their hands to her forearms to lead the princess to her chambers, and before they could touch, Helaena had already stepped forward toward the exit. The maids exchanged glances and silently hurried after her. The hall was left behind.
Again… hands, they are everywhere, the sound of water, steam. Girls quietly talk about something of their own, washing her. The princess is not here. One, two, three — and now she is in her nightgown, sitting on a stool in front of the mirror, long curly hair not immediately yielding to the comb in the maid's hands. One, two — she is alone.
A deep sigh. The last lit candles slowly burn out. In the mirror, the girl with white hair loose, is dressed in a nightgown... No, it's too early to sleep.
Helaena gets up. She remembers exactly. Right here, behind the tapestry. She feels the stone wall... No... Here? She presses the stones again... she was wrong. Behind the tapestry after all, but a little lower. A rustle. The wall shifts, opening a passage. A cool, slightly damp breeze blows over Helaena. To the left. Her foot is already about to cross the threshold... Stop. Barefoot? Helaena turns around, puts on her shoes, sitting on the edge of the bed, while the darkness from the passageway stares at her. She looks up there. Go without a candle? She takes the candlestick in hand and... stops halfway to the passageway. Should she extinguish the other candles? Pretend to be asleep? But... why? She'll just say something and come right back. She walks to the passageway and freezes in front of it again for a minute... or two. The princess turns around and blows out all the candles in her chambers.
The dark, damp tunnels of the castle take her back to her childhood. It's not far to go; she remembers the way perfectly, as it was shown to her once. She stops. Helaena holds the candle up to the wall, looking for a stone that stands out from the others. “Where is it?” she thinks and begins to feel along the wall with her hand. None of the stones give way, but suddenly the wall moves on its own... or does it? The warm light of the fireplace illuminates her, and then immediately a shadow. Brother is standing right in front of her. They look at each other without saying a word.
“Strange mice these days,” his voice is as quiet as the rustling of leaves in the castle garden.
Helaena's lips part, her hand with the candlestick unconsciously and slowly begins to lower, threatening to drop the candle. The contrast between his voice now and there, at the family dinner, suddenly gives her goose bumps. How can he contain so much anger and so much coldness in one person?
His reaction is lightning fast. He grabs the candlestick with his hand, causing Helaena to snap out of her surprise. She blinks rapidly for a few seconds and wrings her fingers, folding her arms in front of her after he deftly takes her candle. Aemond turns and walks into his chambers.
“Come in,” he tells her, already sitting in a chair in front of the fireplace, while she hesitates there.
Helaena takes a step inside but does not go any further. Then the wall shifts back behind her, causing her to flinch, turn around, and walk uncertainly into the middle of his chambers. The crackling of logs in the fireplace, the faint smell of Dornish wine and ink. He sits with his back to her, turning his face to the side so he can see her behind his chair.
“Are you sure you didn't get the time and entrance wrong, Helaena?” he says in the same quiet voice. He doesn't need an answer to that question. “Come here,” he makes a small movement with his head, indicating the adjacent chair.
Helaena approaches with small steps, but instead of sitting down, she walks around his chair and stands in front of her brother.
“I came to apologize,” she exhales.
He stares at her for a few moments without blinking, then sits back comfortably, rests his elbows on the armrests of his chair, narrows his good eye, and a small, grim smile touches his lips. He waits. Neither of them speaks.
"They broke me back then, Helaena,“ his slightly hoarse and suspiciously calm voice suddenly cuts through the air. ”They crippled me. And now I see that bastard asking my sister to dance, she smiles sweetly at him and offers her hand, while the other bastard smirks across the table of relatives I don't know," his sharp grin slightly exposing his teeth before he exhales sharply through his nose in a nervous laugh, either at the situation or at himself, and lowers his face.
Helaena clenches her fingers tighter in front of her.
“Kostilus, shijetra nyke, valonqar...” (Please forgive me, brother) she suddenly whispers in High Valyrian.
The words in their native language make him stop smirking and look up at his sister again. He hummed softly in response and looks away at the flames in the fireplace.
She stands in front of him, looking at the top of his white head, waiting for some words, until she notices a movement just below. Her brother raises his hand, palm up. Helaena looks at his palm, then at his distant expression. Finally, without question, she gently places her hand in his.
Aemond pulls her sharply toward him, clasping her cold hand in his warm fingers. She doesn't even have time to gasp before he forces her to fall onto him, sitting sideways on his lap. He doesn't give her a chance to recover, wrapping his arms tightly around her, pulling her close, burying his nose in her neck and hair. A convulsive sigh.
Helaena closes her eyes, relaxing in his embrace. Her younger brother's hands never made her feel tense. She hardly moves. His breath tickles her neck and the skin behind her ear, but she doesn't even flinch. She listens... hears only their mingled breathing and the beating of her heart. The Old Gods do not whisper to her about fate, the noise in her head has subsided, and the veil of dreams does not obscure the real world.
The princess is here.