Do Not Presume to Know The Damned (Jacaerys x Helaena)

Helaena IV

The dragon weaved through the clouds, body curling as it opened its maw against the rush of air. Flames were difficult. She had never seen Dreamfyre's, even in her coma. Helaena frowned down at the embroidery, the blue and grey dragon stitched into sketched clouds on the cloth. She pinched her needle between thumb and forefinger and tilted the embroidery hoop against the evening light filtering in through the windows.

It would adorn her riding leathers when they were finished. Helaena had been spared the discomfort of being fitted, the seamstress and leatherworker happy to use her prior measurements for the outfit. She would need to regain the weight lost during her unconsciousness, but that was Alicent's condition. When she could fill her old clothes, she was well enough to mount Dreamfyre and return to court.

Her hands were almost fully healed, Grand Maester Orwyle was extremely pleased with her progress. No one said it, but Helaena would wager her newfound bond with Dreamfyre had something to do with it. Her chest was still congested, phlegmatic coughing fits left her gasping when she exerted herself overmuch.

The cotton stretched in its wooden frame, taut and easy to pierce whilst she worked the thread in and out. No silver thread yet. They said she was not yet skilled enough, and her fingers still stiff too. She supposed she could understand their reticence. Grey would have to do.

"Silverwing has no blue scales, Lady Alicent," Helaena's septa, Marlow, advised. For the fourth time this evening. The old woman was wrapped in layers of rough spun wool, her hair and neck covered for warmth and modesty.

"It is not Silverwing," Helaena replied again. "It is Dreamfyre." She was not annoyed, Septa Marlow oft struggled to keep track of their conversations. It was a good day when the wizened septa remembered who Helaena was.

Helaena was not allowed to visit Dreamfyre. The city was dangerous with people fighting one another on the street. It sounded more like Braavos than King's Landing, but she took Aemond's word for it. The rumours of Dornishmen being attacked for looking Myrish perturbed her. She saw the mummer boy's blank stare when she closed her eyes. Helaena hadn't even learnt his name.

Aemond visited her at least once a day, bringing scrolls from the library, budding plants from the garden, and news from The Keep. She heard nothing whilst confined for her recovery. Helaena was relieved to hear Ser Criston was not dismissed, he was sweet to her and her brothers. She didn't expect anyone to risk life and limb to save the king's second born daughter, let alone an important knight of the Kingsguard.

"Dreamfyre?" Septa Marlow harrumphed. "Nasty beast, from what I recall." She pulled the blanket on her knees up, gnarled fingers rigid with age. "Queen Alysanne said it was not fond of its clutchmates. Jealous as its rider."

Helaena looked up from her needlework, curiosity piqued. "Queen Rhaena."

"It is unkind to speak ill of the dead." Septa Marlow barely let the pause linger. "Though, I suppose both of them have gone with the Stranger now... Dowager-Queen Rhaena was ever a thorn in the king and queens' sides. She refused to remarry and took up residence in Harrenhal until the end of her days. A haunted castle for a haunted woman." Septa Marlow sniffed with disdain. "I don't think that woman met a single one of her nieces or nephews, though the queen was good to hers."

"You said she was jealous," Helaena reminded Septa Marlow. She pulled her grey thread tight and looped it, tying off her work. Helaena knew little of the woman who'd first claimed Dreamfyre, her great-grandaunt.

"Of Queen Alysanne, of King Jaehaerys, of their love and their rule and their children. Aye, she was a jealous thing. I met her daughter once, Septa Rhaella. A good and pious woman, though not half so as Septa Maegelle. I imagine that would've made the lady resentful too."