You had always been Aemond's.

Not in the open way Helaena belonged to Aegon — no, your bond with Aemond had always run deeper, quieter. From childhood, you were the only one who didn’t flinch at the sight of his ruined eye.

When mockery came from cousins or indifference from kin, it was your voice, bright and clear, that steadied him.

So when King Viserys, in one of his more lucid states, announced your betrothal to your brother Aemond, he did not feel gratitude. He felt vindicated. It was what should have always been. His sister. His wife.

But then you vanished.

Days before the wedding, you flew into the sky on your dragon and disappeared into the clouds. Aemond scoured the realm from Vhagar’s back, searching endlessly — even swallowing his pride to ask Rhaenyra for word of you.

Nothing.

And then, nearly a moon after Aegon's coronation, you returned.

You walked into the Small Council chamber unannounced, pale and changed. Your eyes once shimmered with sunlight — now they carried storm

When the others had left, Aemond approached you. His gaze sharp, voice quiet. “Where were you?”

You looked through him, not at him. Your lips moved slowly, as though unused to speech.

“Valyria.”

Aemond’s breath stilled. The cursed, broken ruins. The echo of the princess Aerea lingered in his mind — she who had flown into the Doom and returned only to die screaming.

But you stood whole. Or at least, not physically broken.