The young girl's voice was crisp and firm, carrying an undeniable sense of determination.
Rhaegar stood there, stunned, gazing at the younger sister he had watched grow up.
In his memories, Helena had always been a delicate little girl—
A girl burdened by the gift of the Dreamwalker, which made her withdrawn and lonely.
A girl who would burst into tears whenever their older brother, Aegon, bullied her even a little.
As he looked at her now, the overlapping images of past and present left him momentarily dazed. Finally, he murmured, "You've grown up."
"Brother, don't shut me out," Helena pleaded with hopeful eyes.
She had grown up. She had her own thoughts.
She had hoped to earn her brother's recognition subtly, without confrontation.
But their mother had pushed too hard, insisting on marrying her off.
If she didn't speak her mind today, she feared she would drift further and further from the future she truly wanted.
Rhaegar finally snapped back to reality. He reached out and pulled the young girl into his arms, his expression complicated. "If you claim to be a true Targaryen, then you should understand my dilemma."
"Mm!"
Helena sniffled and buried her head against his chest, nodding slightly.
"I'm going out first—to deal with the trouble outside."
Rhaegar ruffled her long hair, his voice gentle.
His head was spinning. He wasn't sure how to respond.
Logically, this was absolutely the wrong thing to do.
If he handled it poorly, the family he had worked so hard to build could fall apart, leaving an opening for the vultures circling them.
Helena, ever perceptive, sensed his hesitation.
She lifted her head, locked eyes with him, and boldly asked, "Brother, could you really bear to see me married off to another man—to bear his children?"
Rhaegar's heart sank, his mind racing.
She had shattered the fragile veil of pretense, cutting straight to the core of the issue.
They had grown up together, their bond deep and unshakable.
Could he truly stand by and watch her leave the Targaryen fold, to become a stranger bound to another house?
Was this a matter of weighing pros and cons, or was it about following his heart?
Staring into Helena's reddened eyes, so filled with stubborn resolve, Rhaegar found himself at a loss for words.
Helena had already seen the answer in his silence. A tear-streaked smile broke across her face. "Brother, the blood of the Targaryens binds us together—it's inevitable."
The rules of the world could not shackle a Targaryen.
Rhaegar remained silent.
He tightened his arms around her slender waist, reaching up to wipe away the tears at the corner of her eyes.
Helena pouted, watching him closely.
In the end, she had won.
She hadn't needed any tricks or deceit—only the fiery blood they shared.
Their mother often lectured her about House Hightower's way of survival, but she had never agreed with it.
She—Helena—was a Targaryen.
And dragons lived by their own rules.
After a long moment, Rhaegar let out a small, resigned smile, as if some part of him had been freed.
He released her and firmly said, "Stay here. I'm going out. Understood?"
"What for?"
Helena asked curiously.
"You're just a kid—stay put."
Rhaegar turned, opened the door, and gently pushed her back into the room.
Before she could react, he had stepped out, shutting the door behind him.
Bang!
Helena stood there, dumbfounded.
She raised her small hands to her cheeks, feeling the lingering warmth of his fingers where he had wiped her tears.
"…So bold."
Her face flushed red as her heart pounded wildly in her chest.
Tilting her head, she stared at the door in confusion.
Everything had been going so well—so why had he suddenly left?
She had wanted him to say something more, but it seemed her chance was gone.
"Ugh…"
Helena sighed, a little disappointed.
Bang!
Suddenly, the door burst open again.
A familiar figure stormed back into the room.
Helena blinked in surprise. "You're back?"
Rhaegar took a deep breath and sighed. "I am guilty."
He had left, but his mind had been flooded with memories of the tragedy of Visenya.
In the end, he couldn't suppress it. He had turned back.
"Brother."
Helena beamed and threw herself at him.
She had known it all along—her brother cared.
"Stop right there!"
Rhaegar put on a stern face, grabbing her by the back of her collar and holding her at arm's length.
With a kick of his lower leg, the bedroom door slammed shut with a loud "bang."
Rhaegar glanced around, grabbed a red carpet, and wrapped Helena up tightly, winding it around her until she was a small-sized mummy.
Except for her feet, only her head was left exposed.
He squatted down, slung the red mummy over his shoulder, and walked toward the balcony, grabbing a lounge chair on the way.
Lying back on the chair, he let the mummy lean against his chest, her eyes fixed determinedly on the view outside the window.
The mummy squirmed like a little worm and protested, "Brother, this isn't right."
Rhaegar pressed her head down onto his shoulder with one hand, then gave her a light smack on the rear, scolding, "Behave. I'm just making sure you don't overthink things—don't push your luck."
As he finished speaking, his gaze landed on the fish-weirwood trees in the Sacred Grove.
Their pale, thick trunks and blood-red leaves stood eerily against the landscape, while the human-like faces carved into them stretched into sinister grins.
Sizzle—
A single thought sent a black flame flickering across his forehead, and a patch of jet-black dragon scales emerged from his skin.
A surge of power rushed through Rhaegar, his emotions purged, leaving behind an overwhelming sense of authority laced with an indescribable danger.
"Brother, you've grown scales," Helena murmured, her wide eyes filled with confusion.
Rhaegar withdrew his gaze and chuckled at her expression. "It's no big deal. Any Targaryen has the potential."
The dragon scales faded away as he pinched her cheek and asked, "How's your bronze rune practice going?"
"I've carved most of them, but I haven't finished my lower legs yet," Helena admitted, resting her head against his shoulder and nuzzling into him.
Ever since she had secretly kissed her brother and gotten a private warning from their eldest sister, she hadn't been this close to him in a long time.
Rhaegar raised an eyebrow in surprise. "More than halfway done? That's impressive."
Rhaenyra and Helena had started learning at the same time, but Rhaenyra had only completed half as much.
Hmm…
It probably had a lot to do with Helena's introverted nature—she spent most of her time focused on engraving the runes.
Relaxing, Rhaegar decided to offer some encouragement. "Keep at it. Once you're done, I'll teach you the Ouroboros rune."
They were already quite close.
The Ouroboros rune was rare, but there was no reason he couldn't teach her.
Besides, this would help keep the little girl distracted.
Helena nodded eagerly, enjoying the feeling of being trusted.
Rhaegar shared some of his insights, then leaned back and closed his eyes.
A moment ago, he had abandoned his plan to be alone because he couldn't bear to see her upset.
Now, he needed to think carefully about the future.
The threat of the Three Daughters was gone, but the three city-states were in ruins and needed rebuilding.
How would he stabilize Rhaenyra? And how could he convince the Faith of the Seven to support him—laying the groundwork for taking more wives?
So many complications!
Thinking of Aegon the Conqueror, a competitive fire ignited within him. He silently mused, We're both Targaryens, both with great accomplishments for our house. When I sit on the Iron Throne, why shouldn't I take more than one wife?!
Two hundred years ago, Old Valyria allowed polygamy.
As long as he could keep Rhaenyra and Alicent—both volatile women—under control…
Marrying Helena would strengthen ties with his younger siblings, making the family even more united.
Back then, Aegon the Conqueror had three spouses and three dragons. He subdued Westeros and forced the High Septon to crown him personally.
Now, House Targaryen had over a dozen direct descendants and just as many dragons ruling the skies.
Let the Faith of the Seven try to revolt if they dared!
He'd love to see how many armies the High Septon could actually rally.
Whoosh… whoosh…
As he was deep in thought, a cool breeze carried a faint floral scent past his ears.
The tickling sensation made Rhaegar shudder. He tilted his head down slightly.
Helena's cheeks were puffed up as she blew air at his ear.
When she saw him look her way, she puffed even harder.
Rhaegar blinked in confusion.
Seeing that the blowing wasn't working, Helena squirmed her way up and suddenly took his earlobe between her teeth.
"Let go!"
Rhaegar jolted, grabbing her cheeks with his fingers.
With a swift motion, he forced her to release him.
Helena's eyes filled with confusion, and she pouted her soft pink lips.
Rhaegar was genuinely alarmed. "What was that for?"
Was she feeling emotionally unstable?
Helena slumped, her head drooping as she murmured with disappointment, "I saw our sister do it, and you looked pleased."
Bluntly put, she wanted to please him.
Rhaegar felt a headache coming on and let out a half-exasperated chuckle. "Spying on others isn't a good habit."
Rhaenyra could be a bit too bold at times—she really needed to be more mindful.
Smooch—
Unwilling to back down, Helena tilted her head and planted a kiss on his cheek.
Rhaegar froze, feeling the faint warmth and moisture left behind.
Helena, still wrapped up like a mummy, wriggled closer, aiming for another kiss.
"No!"
Rhaegar quickly dodged, pressing a hand against her small face, his voice dropping to a warning tone.
"You've accepted me now."
Helena Was Stubborn.
Rhaegar shook his head and solemnly said, "Rhaenyra is pregnant. I can't do this."
After a brief pause, realizing his words weren't complete, he added, "When you grow up a bit, when you're truly an adult."
Before marriage, he could spend time with Jeyne or even bastards. Even after marriage, he could occasionally make mistakes.
This was a privilege of being a man—though, at its core, it was filthy.
But among the nobility, and especially the Targaryen men, this was how life was lived.
However, while Rhaenyra was pregnant, he would remain faithful.
Not for any other reason—because the child inside her belonged to him.
Cheating during pregnancy was not only a betrayal of Rhaenyra but also a humiliation.
Regardless of whether Helena understood his reasoning, Rhaegar firmly pressed down on her head and said, "Shh! Go to sleep."
Once asleep, she would be well-behaved.
Helena blinked and obediently lay down.
The siblings both closed their eyes, quietly enjoying the sunlight and the cool breeze.
Suddenly, Helena asked, "What about Lord Peake?"
She hadn't forgotten the deceiver.
Rhaegar, eyes still closed, said calmly, "No rush."
If he had committed a crime, he had probably already fled the Red Keep.
Let him run for a while.
"Oh."
Helena burrowed her head, adjusting to a more comfortable position.
For a moment, the bedroom returned to peace.
Sunlight, lounge chairs, a handsome young man with silver hair and black clothing…
A scene of mesmerizing beauty.
Of course, that's if you ignored the red caterpillar in the boy's arms.
---
At the Same Time
Upstairs, in the princess's chamber.
Sara stood guard at the door. The room was quiet.
The princess, being pregnant, was always sleepy and had a big appetite.
Her afternoon naps grew longer each day.
Inside the bedroom, silk curtains covered the floor-to-ceiling windows, blocking out the harsh sunlight.
Rhaenyra, dressed in a loose nightgown, lay on her side in a peaceful sleep.
One hand rested under her ear, the other gently placed on her round belly.
She slept soundly, drifting into a deep slumber.
In Her Dream.
She lay in her own bedroom—everything around her unchanged.
"Hngh…"
A strange sensation stirred in her arms, accompanied by faint, soft grunts.
Dazed, Rhaenyra looked down.
She froze.
The round belly beneath her white silk nightgown was gone—her stomach was completely flat.
Instead, in her open embrace, two fair-skinned babies lay nestled together, wriggling awkwardly as they tried to roll over.
Despite their efforts, their chubby bodies failed to move, their little faces turning bright red with exertion.
Rhaenyra only needed one glance to know—they were her children.
"Hngh…"
Tired from their struggle, the two babies blinked their violet eyes and began nibbling on their tiny hands.
Rhaenyra watched them quietly, her heart melting.
"Screeech…"
Suddenly, a sharp, high-pitched cry rang out.
Not just one—several cries overlapped.
Rhaenyra, unaware she was dreaming, instinctively held the babies closer.
"Screeech…"
A bronze-colored hatchling was the first to emerge, no larger than a house cat. It landed on the headboard, spreading its wings.
"Screeech…"
Moments later, three more dragon hatchlings fluttered out from different corners of the room, chirping and flitting about in chaos.
As if they had grown tired, they began searching for a place to perch.
One joined the bronze dragon on the headboard.
Two others landed at the foot of the bed, stretching their necks curiously.
Rhaenyra, dumbfounded, rubbed her eyes—unable to make out the appearances of the other three dragons.
"Waaaah!"
Suddenly, one of the babies in her arms burst into loud wails.
Not only did the baby cry, but with surprising speed, their tiny hands grabbed a wooden toy and hurled it at the headboard.
Thud!
A direct hit on the bronze hatchling.
"Screeech!"
The four little dragons, startled, flapped their wings and took off in a hurry.
"Hngh…"
The baby immediately stopped crying and burrowed into Rhaenyra's arms, smacking their little lips in search of milk.
Their boldness was unmistakable.
(End of Chapter)