(A/N):
Drop a meme here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.
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Helaena Targaryen sat very still as her brother spoke.
His voice flowed around her—measured, persuasive, practiced—but to her it sounded distant, like words carried underwater.
He spoke of duty, of stability, of how this marriage would quiet the court, how it would buy time, how their mother had already agreed.
"As long as you stand with me,"
Aegon said, almost gently,
"Aemond won't dare move. This ends the struggle. For now."
For now. Those two words rang louder than anything else.
Helaena's fingers tightened around the fabric of her gown.
"...."
She nodded when expected.
-Nod
She answered when required.
Outwardly, she was calm—always calm.
Inside, she felt like she was standing on a blade's edge, every step threatening to cut deeper.
She remembered.
She remembered being thirteen, sitting in the same place, hearing the same proposal dressed in softer words.
Back then, her father had stopped it.
Not with anger, but with quiet finality.
"No," Viserys had said. "She is not a tool."
It was the only time anyone had spoken for her without being asked.
Now he was gone.
And with him, the last voice that truly heard her.
Her mother had approved it this time.
Catherine's eyes had been tired when she told her, not cruel—just resigned.
As if the world had narrowed to only bad choices, and this was the least dangerous one.
"The wedding will be in a week," her mother had said. "It's necessary."
Necessary. Helaena swallowed her own words.
-Gulp
Did she have no will of her own?
She thought of the Red Keep's corridors, once familiar, now suffocating.
Of her brothers watching each other like predators circling.
Of whispers following her steps, already deciding her future as if she were absent.
She felt trapped between forces too large to resist—ambition, fear, legacy.
A thin blade, indeed.
That night, alone in her chamber, Helaena pressed her forehead to the cold glass of the window and stared out at the dark city below.
Somewhere beyond the sea, beyond walls and borders, she knew there was a place where people chose their paths.
Where knowledge was shared, not used as chains.
Where death was honest, and life was allowed to breathe.
Where women were not bargaining pieces on a board.
She did not know how to reach that place. Don't know will they accept her. With her house history with them.
But for the first time, she allowed herself to ask a dangerous question.
'What if I don't accept this?'
The candle beside her flickered.
And in that small, unsteady flame, Helaena Targaryen felt something stir—not rebellion, not courage yet—
—but the fragile beginning of choice.
The knock came again—sharper this time, impatient.
-Knock -Knock
Helaena frowned, wiping her eyes before crossing the chamber.
-Frown
"...."
When she opened the door, the smell of wine hit her first.
Aemond. He leaned against the doorframe, unsteady but not weak, his single eye sharp and burning as it dragged over her in a way that made her stomach turn.
There was no brotherly warmth there.
Only calculation wrapped in intoxication.
He smiled. "You look… troubled, sister."
Helaena stiffened hearing his words.
"...."
"You're drunk. Go back to your chambers."
He laughed softly and stepped closer instead.
"Aegon is a fool,"
Aemond said, his voice dropping.
"A waste. He'll burn the throne before he can sit on it properly."
His eye gleamed while he uttered those words.
"Marry me instead. I'll make you queen in truth. Not a figurehead. I'd rule with you."
Promises spilled from him—power, stability, respect—but she heard none of it as sincerity.
Every word felt rehearsed, sharpened, transactional.
She looked at him fully then.
And understood.
To Aegon, she was a condition. To Aemond, she was a lever.
Different hands. Same chains.
Her disappointment cut deeper than fear.
"I see," she said quietly.
Aemond frowned, sensing something slip beyond his grasp.
-Frown
"You won't find a better offer."
Helaena did not answer.
She stepped back, reached down, and lifted a small travel bag she had already prepared—light, deliberate, final.
Then, without another word, she closed the door.
The latch clicked.
Aemond froze for a heartbeat—then slammed his fist against the wood.
"...."
-Bang. -Bang.
"Helaena!" he shouted. "Think carefully! This is power I'm offering you!"
The door did not open.
Inside, Helaena leaned against it, heart pounding but spine straight.
His voice rose, promises turning sharp, then ugly—but they faded as guards approached down the corridor.
She did not cry.
For the first time in her life, she had chosen something herself.
Helaena's hands trembled as she knelt before the small, unassuming box at the foot of her bed.
She had carried it with her since childhood.
Her father's last gift.
He had been very clear that day—unusually serious, his voice low, almost afraid.
"Do not open this unless your life is truly threatened… by your brothers."
At the time, she had not understood.
Now, with Aemond's voice still echoing in her ears and Aegon's shadow closing from another direction, she finally did.
The lid opened with a soft click.
Inside was no jewel. No relic. No crown token.
Just a single, carefully folded letter.
Her breath caught as she recognized the handwriting.
'Father…'
She unfolded it slowly.
LETTER CONTENT:
My sweet Helaena,
If you are reading this, then I have failed you in the one duty that mattered most—protecting you from my own blood.
Your brothers carry fire in their hearts. Not the kind that warms. The kind that consumes.
One seeks indulgence and validation. The other seeks control and legacy.
Both will burn the Seven Kingdoms if left unchecked.
And both, I fear, will try to pull you into their struggle—not as a sister, but as a piece.
If you still have a choice when you read this… take it.
If you do not, then go where even kings dare not tread.
Travel to the Demon Wall.
Find a way across it. Find Rhaenyra.
I know I have lost the right to ask anything of her.
I took her mother trust from me. I broke her trust. I broke our family.
But of all my children, she is the only one who would protect you without asking for something in return.
She has always been stronger than I allowed myself to admit.
If there is kindness left in this world for you, it is with her.
Forgive me, my daughter. I should have been braver sooner.
— Your father,
Viserys
The letter slipped from her fingers.
For a long moment, Helaena simply sat there, staring at the floor as the weight of her father's words settled into her bones.
"...."
So he had known.
All along, he had known what his sons would become.
And still… he had been powerless to stop it.
Tears welled, but they did not fall.
Instead, something steadier took their place—resolve, fragile but real.
"Rhaenyra…" she whispered.
The Demon Wall.
The place her father himself had forbidden, feared, and named with dread.
The place everyone said was cursed.
But if that was where choice still existed—then that was where she would go.
Helaena rose, wiped her eyes, and folded the letter carefully, tucking it against her heart.
"...."
She slung her bag over her shoulder, extinguished the candle, and moved toward the hidden passage she knew too well.
Behind her, the Red Keep loomed—full of crowns, secrets, and men who thought they owned her future.
Ahead of her lay shadows, danger, and uncertainty.
But also… the possibility of freedom.
And for the first time, Helaena Targaryen did not walk on the blade's edge.
She stepped off it.
The hidden passage swallowed her whole.
Cold stone brushed her fingertips as she moved through the narrow corridor, the air stale with centuries of secrets.
This path was older than the Red Keep itself, carved for kings who feared assassins and queens who feared their own courts.
Few still remembered it. Fewer still dared to use it.
Helaena did not hesitate.
Her steps were quiet, measured.
She counted her breaths, the way she always did when the whispers in her mind grew too loud.
Left turn. Seven steps. Downward slope. A faint draft that smelled of salt and old iron.
'Half an hour,' she guessed.
Time enough for discovery.
Time enough for chaos—if she failed.
At last, a small wooden door came into view, half-rotted, hidden behind hanging roots and dust. She pressed her shoulder against it.
It creaked open.
Moonlight spilled in.
She emerged into one of the old stables, long abandoned and far from the Red Keep's daily life.
Broken stalls. Dry straw. Cobwebs like veils. No guards. No servants.
Luck, or fate.
Helaena exhaled for the first time since leaving her chamber.
"..."
A single horse remained inside, tethered loosely, its coat dark and unremarkable.
Not a warhorse. Not a noble steed.
Just strong enough to run—and unnoticed enough to survive.
Perfect. She approached slowly, whispering soft words, her hand steady despite the storm inside her chest.
The horse snorted once, then calmed, accepting her touch as if it understood the urgency.
Moments later, she was in the saddle.
No armor. No escort. No banner.
Just a girl fleeing a crown.
She guided the horse out of the stable and into the night, keeping to the lesser roads, away from torches and patrols.
The Red Keep loomed behind her, its towers cutting the sky like jagged teeth.
She did not look back.
Ahead lay the long road north.
Past villages that whispered her family's name with fear.
Past lands divided by war and silence.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Toward the place even her father had warned her never to approach.
The Demon Wall. They said monsters guarded it. They said gods had turned their backs on what lay beyond. They said no Targaryen should ever cross it.
Helaena tightened her grip on the reins.
"If Rhaenyra is there," she murmured to the wind, "then so is my answer."
The horse broke into a gallop.
And under the cold stars of Westeros, a forgotten princess rode toward shadows—not to lose herself, but to finally choose who she would become.
ELDORIA...
In Eldoria's palace, the mood could not have been more different from King's Landing.
Leo lounged comfortably on the bed, controller in hand, eyes half on the screen and half on the woman beside him.
The TV flashed with bright colors as the WWE match reached its climax.
Rhaenyra, however, was clearly not present in spirit.
"...."
Her character stood idle for half a second too long.
Leo didn't miss it.
With perfect timing, Randy Orton surged forward on-screen—
RKO. Out of nowhere.
"—And good night!"
Leo said cheerfully.
Rhaenyra blinked, then stared at the screen in disbelief as her character hit the mat.
"...."
"…You cheated,"
she accused, turning to him with a pout that tried very hard to be angry and failed spectacularly.
Leo raised an eyebrow, smug.
"You drifted. Battlefield mistake. Punished immediately."
She huffed, cheeks puffed slightly, silver hair shifting as she adjusted her grip on the controller.
"I was thinking."
"I know," Leo replied lightly. "That's why you lost."
She shot him a look, then scooted closer, eyes narrowing with renewed focus.
"Don't get used to it."
The match restarted.
This time, she was ruthless—grapples chained together, counters cleaner, timing sharper.
Leo laughed as she nearly caught him with a finisher.
"There she is," he said. "Princess of Dragonstone, back from the void."
Rhaenyra didn't answer immediately.
She landed a solid hit, then finally muttered,
"The Red Keep is going to explode sooner or later."
Leo didn't press. He simply nodded, letting his character roll back to its feet.
-Nod
"It always does."
She glanced at him sidelong.
"Helaena's in danger."
That made him pause—just for a fraction of a second.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "I feel it too."
Rhaenyra exhaled, thumb tightening on the controller.
"If she wants to escape she needs to leave that palce…"
Leo smiled faintly as he countered her next move.
"If she dose that then she's already stronger than they think."
Rhaenyra snorted hearing his response.
-Snort
"You say that like you're waiting for her."
Leo didn't deny it.
On the screen, the crowd roared as the fight intensified. In the real world, outside the palace walls, Eldoria remained calm—almost serene.
But far away, on a lonely road beneath cold stars, a silver-haired girl rode toward a wall the world feared.
And somewhere between an RKO and a dragon's shadow, fate was already moving its pieces.
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(Author's POV)
(A/N)I hope you guys are enjoying the story.
Thanks for reading the chapter!
Please give areview
And power stone!!!
It will Motivate Me.