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02 - Wings to Fly
🕑 Added 2025-07-23 16:19:41 +0000 UTCDisclaimer:
This chapter contains no explicit sexual content or graphic material. All interactions and descriptions are intended to serve narrative, emotional, and character development purposes within the context of a House of the Dragon fanfiction. Any moments of physical or emotional intimacy are presented in a literary and non-gratuitous manner, reflecting themes of duty, freedom, identity, and personal conflict.
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It was the fifth hour—somewhere near ten by the modern reckoning. I stood before the door to my sister-wife’s chambers, wrestling with a mild dilemma. Ought I announce myself, or simply stride in, as was my custom? The hesitation was a lingering echo of the merge.
Thankfully, such dissonances had grown rarer with time. I expected them to vanish altogether, once granted the mercy of undisturbed sleep, though none had come. Not that Sunfyre was to blame.
Mercifully, they were less and less prevalent. I expect them no more after a restful night's slumber, which was denied to me. Sunfyre was not one to blame.
Ser Erryk shifted in his spot, a step behind me, his armor clinking and clanking. Life, I suppose, as a Kingsguard was quite uncomfortable, weighed down as they were by all those metal plates. Were it not for Aegon's habit of abandoning his — my — sworn shield, I would have assumed his silent, maddened glaring sparked by the previous night.
Admittedly, whenever Aegon cast him off, he often did openly, using his authority to order him away, while he went gallivanting for hours. Oftentimes lasting days. Till the sword shield tracked him under someone’s order, grandfather or mother, when they remembered he existed. The knight seemed to have a strong flair for finding his prince.
Ser Erryk's throat was suddenly afflicted by a fit of coughing, twice, in rapid succession, a pause, then a third dry, hacking sound. Whatever the cause may be, the knight was certainly not in a merry mood if he was this impatient.
I withheld a sign and rapped thrice upon the door, before pushing it open and stepping within.
Helaena, mercifully, was not toying with her bugs, but toiled in needles, stitching a fine embroidery piece of a… bug.
The afternoon light caught the silver-gold of her hair as she bent over her work, and I found myself studying the graceful curve of her neck, pale as milk. Strange, how Aegon's memories held no such details, yet now I could not look away from the delicate way her fingers moved the needle.
Her predictability might have amused me, her beauty no more than a polished bauble—but it was not for her neck I lingered. My gaze slid past her to the twins, and there it faltered, caught by something I could not so easily ignore.
The children sat on the floor, surrounded by the glow from the window and the warm comfort of the carpet, two serving girls by their side, tending to their whims.
My son and daughter. My children. That sounds so….
“Leave us,“ I said after a moment. I had resolved to ignore the twins as much as I found it challenging to do so. The decision I’d made, the half of a plan I‘d begun, was already eating at me; no need to make this harsher than it already was.
The serving girls sprang to their feet at my orders, exchanging anxious glances with a concerned Helaena, before they moved to take the twins.
“Let them stay,“ I said, my mouth seemed to have other plans of its own.
I refrained from a click of the tongue. Here goes my way for a swift, detached farewell….
At least it had the benefit of calming Helaena, a bit; her rigid posture eased, shoulders relaxing slightly. Whenever she had been with Aegon, it had never gone well for her.
I stepped aside for the serving girls to take their leave. Ser Erryk, with a quiet courtesy, shut the door behind them, affording us a measure of seclusion.
The room fell silent, yet not quite; the children kept making children's noises as they played with their wooden toys, caged birds chirping, and the faint sound of a lute being played somewhere outside. But it still fell silent.
Helaena dragged her gaze from me to our children, then back at me. She pursed her lips before returning to her embroidery.
As warm a welcome as I hoped.
I drew a deep breath, and I wondered why I was here in the first place. Aegon cared little for her, be it as his sister, wife, or the mother of his children. While I fail to understand her, even with two perspectives.
I found myself conflicted yet again. On one hand, she would suffer what a mother should never go through, and on the other…
I wanted, I planned for this to be brief; walk in, then out. The Seven know we have nothing to talk about. Other than our reluctant situation, but some matters were better kept under the lid lest they spill.
It seems it won’t be that quick or… easy. My legs carried me to the twins, so utterly absorbed in their playing, they only noticed my presence until I settled beside them on the woven carpet.
Considering both parts that made me, I feared I would prove poor with children. For Aegon was young, his model of a father nonexistent, and fathering them was his foremost duty, as his mother and grandfather kept besieging him. As for Ryan, fatherhood was a distant dream that never came to be. But neither had any experience or exposure to know how to interact with them.
That proved an unnecessary worry.
Upon notice, Jaeherys offered me a spare wooden steed, a broken toy with one leg missing, and I couldn’t help but chuckle when he tugged behind him, hiding five hale and strong steeds. I took it for what it was, an invitation and a test.
I wondered if all parents feel like this. It made my chest swell and my lips stretch…. and I started questioning all the past actions I had not made and the doubtful decision I was planning to make.
“I fail to see you….“ Helaena said, voice flat barely above a whisper, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“Perhaps you will, if you come closer,“ I jested with a grin, one she did not reciprocate, and kept her head bowed on her embroidery. She was sitting on the far side of the couch, and a table was lying on this side, but I have doubts this was what she meant.
The corner of my lips twitched at the silent treatment. Clearing my throat to disperse the awkwardness in the air, I stood and gave the twins a kiss each on their little silver heads.
“…or I could come closer instead,” I said lightly as I made my way around the table and settled beside her, mindful of the space between us, but even so, her posture shifted, her back straightening in a quiet rigidity, and her fingers jerked in a sudden, involuntary movement.
“…“
“…“
Silence again.
The most vexing thing, I dare say, was that I did not even believe she was deliberately attempting to freeze me out with her silence.
This close, I caught the faint scent of lavender from her hair, and noticed how her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks. Ryan's eyes had never beheld such beauty; Aegon's had been too fool-blind to see it.
“What is it?“ After a long while, I grew bored of the silence. I asked, nodding at her embroidery, only to be answered by that, well, more silence. One that made me overthink whether she understood or even if she heard me.
I ached to reach out—just a hand on her wrist, her knee, some point of contact to remind me she was real. My blood was thick with want, and no prayer could thin it.
Eventually, however, “… I have not decided yet,” she said glancing at me from the corner of her eyes. “A tablecloth or a pillowcase…. a handkerchief, maybe. Something small to hold close.”
I hummed. “Whichever you decide upon, I’ve no doubt it will be lovely.” I forced a smile, “A pillow, then? A wise choice. One embroidered with a spider, to catch the dreams before they bite.”
I tried to diffuse with an overreached jest with a chuckle, but… I sighed.
“Tis not a spider,“ she said, tone rising, the most excitement I heard from her in months. “It’s a winged ant.“
The animation in her voice drew my attention to her lips—soft, pink, moving with a grace that made my chest tighten in ways I hadn't expected.
“Mmh. They’re called Alates. “ Wait, are they? Probably not in this world. Where did I hear that? “They’re the reproductive individuals of the colony, with fully developed wings that let them fly off… and…. start new colonies….“The modern unfitting words spilled out of my mouth till I was completely lost in my thoughts. Fly off. Was this some manner of a message, or am I overthinking?
“Why are you here?“ Helaena asked after a while with her flat tone.
The fabric clung to her thighs when she shifted, hinting at the shape of legs he had never touched—yet now I imagined the feel of them, pale and soft and warm beneath my fingers. My mouth was dry. Was it Aegon who desired her now… or me?
Aye…. why? I wonder as well.
“I need you to do something for me,“ I said, producing a letter.
“You are better served by others, Aegon,” she gave the latter a fleeting glance. “Ser Martin Reyne, your friend, to name but one.“
A friend? I snorted, a licksplitter more like.
“I fear he’s unfit for this… task. Only you, can I trust with this…. please.“
Something in there seemed to surprise her as her eyes widened slightly, she put the needlework aside and regarded me. “What is it?“
“I want you to read this to the small council."
The letter’s purpose was more of a matter of making it known, a shield of the sort. A prince must narrate his actions, lest others paint their own narrative. The next gathering was due in four days; all the delay I needed to be far from the Crownlands.
Nothing ground-breaking within the letter. It was more meant for Heleana and the twins than anything. The world was not kind, and I may die in a ditch, from an infection or a stomachache. This letter was meant to tell them I have not run from them and that I will be back. Hopefully alive.
And it was true. I’m not running.
“You’re leaving?“
I knew not what gave it away, but her question caught me off guard. I seem to have misjudged her.
I nodded, slowly.
Helena eyed me quietly, in her usual apathetic expression. I wish she would talk to me, show me more of what she was thinking, of what she was feeling. But for now, I will have to content myself with her accepting the letter.
She said no more and turned to her needlework, dismissing my presence. I allowed myself a thin smile, fortunate or otherwise.
Helaena, I noticed, looked softer in the sunlight, her hair a shimmer of silver and gold, not unlike freshly spun moonlace. I told myself I was merely observing, yet my gaze lingered too long on the pale skin behind her ear and the line of her collarbone, where the gown hung ever so slightly loose.
I forced my eyes away from her and let them drift about.
… time to go, I told myself, since it seemed the urgency I entered with was forgotten for some reason. My presence was clearly unwanted, and it was uncouth to impose it.
“Come with me.“
And then my mouth, the scheming thing it was, decided to betray me once more.
Was the merge not as thorough as I thought? Should I start to worry about my arms and legs, and dick, to start acting on its own as well?
“Where?“ she said after a pause.
Even as I lamented my lack of control, I started considering it.
The plan was still in its infancy, and at the present moment, I had but a goal: to regain my agency, and for that, I needed two things. The first and most urgent one was space from the Hightowers and cutting their puppeteer strings.
That, hopefully, will not be a daunting task on my own, and Sunfyre. Not easy, that's for sure. But with Helaena, a woman, and two children, because I will not leave them behind fatherless and motherless….
The choices, once many, have now narrowed to a handful.
But with her will be Dreamfyre, a she-dragon larger than Caraxes and Meleys….
That’ll make it hard to conceal, but with two dragons, no obstacle or foe can bar our path. There was also her seer ability, but I would rather never rely on that.
“I don’t know," I answered after a moment. “Somewhere in Essos, mayhaps.“
Pentos seemed to be willing to offer a palace for a dragon raider, didn’t it? While it chaffed my skin to be anything resembling a sellsword, I’d gladly swallow my pride for their comfort.
And a palace seems secure enough refuge in which to raise the young ones and to mend broken bridges with their mother. I can rave all I want and push the responsibility to Aegon’s action, but I was now Aegon, and that responsibility, that fate, fell upon my shoulders.
And as much as a small part of myself, one stemmed from Ryan’s view on incest, it affected me naught — it held no sway here. She was my sister, aye—but also my wife. I took no shame in it.
That aside, living in Pentos will spare them from what was to come. Their end… I will not….
The more I pondered this path, the more convinced I became.
Till her next words swept everything away, leaving me drained.
“But this is home, “ she said, not in a pleading or persuasive manner, her tone flat and words writ in stone, simple yet so, so…. heavy.
I huffed out a wry chuckle.
As Aegon, I drew my first breath within these walls, lived and grew and trained here, in the Redkeep, in King's Landed, in the Seven Kingdoms. Yet I can’t help but loathe those words.
Aegon failed to see, but I didn't.
This was as much home for me as a cage for a bird.
For a moment, I assumed we shared the same view. But no, hers seemed more colorful. She was loved by Mother, doted on by Grandfather, and she had all she’d desired here. Helaena was happy here. She only had one trouble, one burden.
Her only source of pain, of sadness, her sole plight… Aegon — I.
Her days were brightest when I ignored her, wasn’t it?
“Aye,“ I smiled. I hoped it looked real, my eyes drifting to the window. “Home….“
