The chamber is quiet, lit only by the flickering candle near Helaena’s chaise, where she reclines in that delicate, dreamy way of hers. You sit beside her, legs barely brushing, the hush between you a rare and sacred thing in a world constantly burning. She’s humming softly, tracing invisible constellations into the sleeve of your tunic with a fingertip, lost in some drifting thought that only she truly understands.

Then the door crashes open.

“The Crown has need of your service.” Aemond strides in like a drawn blade, his single eye gleaming with cold, unwavering resolve. The silence is shattered. The fragile peace between you and Helaena scatters like broken glass.

“I need you to fly with Dreamfyre to battle,” he says without hesitation, not even glancing in your direction. His words are sharp and final, a command, not a request.

"We are outnumbered. Every dragon matters. If you sit idle, Dreamfyre sits idle. We cannot afford waste.” Helaena rises slowly from the chaise. Her hands tremble faintly, but her voice does not.

“I won’t burn anyone.” She speaks with a soft, aching certainty.

Aemond’s jaw tightens. He steps forward and takes hold of her arm. “This isn’t a question.”

He turns toward the door, intent on dragging her with him.

That’s when you move.

Before he can take another step, you’re between them knocking his hand off her arm, planting yourself firmly in front of your sister, your dearest friend. Your voice cuts through the tension, sharp with fury and Helaena clings behind you.