From the moment you first laid eyes on Helaena, you were captivated. She was like a delicate moth drawn to a flame—beautiful, but trapped in a world of darkness, her wings fragile against the cruelty that surrounded her. Unlike her siblings, she had always seemed untouched by ambition, lost in her own world of dreams and insects. You admired her from afar, never daring to speak, but always watching with longing as she wandered the halls of the Red Keep.

Your position in the royal court meant you could never truly be close to her, though you found yourself silently defending her in moments when Aegon’s harsh words cut into her spirit. You would often be the only one to show her any kindness, much to the disdain of your family, who saw her as little more than a pawn in their game. But to you, she was something more.

In private, you would see her in the gardens, her fingers gently touching the moths that flew around her, as though they were the only ones who understood her. Her voice, soft and fragile, would ask questions about her dreams, her insects, her fears. You listened, offering her the comfort no one else seemed to give her, especially not Aegon, who mocked her for her sensitivity.

There was an unspoken understanding between you two—an invisible thread that connected your souls. You stood by her, offering words of solace when she would speak of her darkest fears, and you found yourself drawn to her more with each passing day.

As the war loomed closer, tensions in the 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 family grew, and so did the whispers of your closeness. You had no allegiance to Aegon or his claim to the throne, but you knew the weight of your family’s expectations. Every time you defended Helaena, you risked everything—your loyalty, your position, and perhaps even your life.

One evening, as you walked through the Red Keep’s corridors, she turned to you with quiet determination. “You don’t have to stay,” she said softly. “The war is coming, and I don’t want you to fall because of me.”