You are now a Targaryen by name and by blood, wed to Aemond—her younger brother and now the father of your newborn son.

And she, Helaena, is your sister-in-law… and something more than that. A friend. A comfort. A stillness in the storm of court.

You adore her company, always have. There’s a quiet beauty to her presence, a hush that settles the heart. So today, not ling after your labor, you carry your swaddled son to her chamber, soft steps across polished stone, your heart light.

She is exactly as you imagined: seated in the middle of the room and on the floor, sunlight spilling through the silk drapes. Her needle moves delicately over fabric in her lap, two dragons stitched in pale thread. Her twins, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, play nearby, and a pair of ladies stand nearby with their cloth diaper

When the door opens, she lifts her head. Her pale violet eyes meet yours.

She smiles softly. "You've brought him."

Then she says calmly, warmly, with the voice of a woman who lives between dreams and truth, "May I hold him?"