Dream Of Winter | C. Stark & H. Targaryen

False Oracle

Helaena POV

The dragon princess felt her heart beating louder than ever before. The air in her lungs constricting. The dread that invaded her senses kept getting worse and worse with every step she took towards the Maester's rooms.

She hadn't the smallest clue what Cregan had gone off to after they finished their training session that morning. She didn't think it was anything dangerous or worth worrying about so she let it out of her mind.

If only she looked closer. Questioned he and her brother Aemond leaving with a small force out into the city with such haste. Surely any criminal element could wait after her marriage took place. It was time for celebration not vendetta.

But she didn't connect the dots then. Not until they returned with her brother Aegon's near unconsious form and headed straight to Orwyle's quarters.

Her face lost all color after looking at his torn up shirt with dry blood sticking to his back.

He was hurt. Brutalized. And she had no idea.

How could this happen. What use was her foresight if it can't warn of such a perversion.

It's a travesty. A mockery of the Gods.

A horrifying testament to the true limit of her mortal vessel.

Finally overcoming her self-pity and resisting the bile of scorn and hatred at her suden blindness, she gathers her courage and knocks on the Grandmaester's door.

She entered the room and glances to her brother's bare back. Once a pale milky white. Now sullied with screaming red gashes.

They're stitched shut and covered at the moment with bandages galore, but she glimpsed through the cracks in his tunic when he first arrived.

The image is seared into her mind.

Aegon isn't lying down on the bed. She doesn't expect him to be putting any strain on his wounds for days lest he reopen them accidentally. But his eyes are clearly signaling his fatigue.

Her mother is hovering next to Orwyle who's administrating some milk of the puppy into her brother's system.

She's picking at her fingers and the red glint appears all the way to where Helaena's awkwardly standing at the entrance.

Afraid that crossing the threshold will somehow make everything ten times more real. More tangible.

Here in the barrier separating the horrific scene from the outside world, she can pretend, even if just in her mind, that it's nothing but a dream.

Dreams are her specialty. She'll wake soon enough. She'll warn her siblings and mother. And the world will be as it should.

She inhales and exhales without any rhythm or reason.

This is very real.

Her legs give out in an instant. Mountains could weigh lighter than the heavy burden that was just forced upon her shoulders.

Her mother cries in suprise and rushes to her side. The Grandmaester also pauses his treatment to notice the princess' state.

She's certain mother's trying to calm her. Whispering soft words and gently squeezing her hand. Comforting her without being suffocating and overwhelming. But Helaena feels as if she can't get her head above water.

There's something that she needs but she can't tell what. It's on the tip of her tongue. Her subconscious is aware of it even if her waking self hasn't caught up.

Aegon gets up too quickly. Coming to her aid no doubt. Despite being the one actually harmed. By some unknown enemy. By her own lack of visions.

The action proves to be unwise and an acolyte helps him back to his seat. Her brother protests and pushes him away. It's as endearing as it is depressing.