Dream Of Winter | C. Stark & H. Targaryen

Wildest Dreams

**

Her quest was finally over. She felt her tether to the world of living become more powerful by the day. Flashes of her mother and siblings awaited her when she pulled her head above the turbulent waters of prohecy.

They brought her comfort if not companionship. They were aware of her dreams. More accepting that she thought they would be.

Her mother in particular. Magic was never something she indulged in, despite marrying into the House of the Dragon.

When she told her she saw the king had cut his hands to the bone while sitting the iron throne that day, she dismissed her words as concern and told the girl of six to not worry too much. Viserys had attendants and a cane. He doesn't leave the guards' peripheral vision, so he won't ever be in danger.

Only he had.

Earlier that day her half-sister had shared the news of her third pregnancy. Her father was overjoyed. So much so, he claimed he'll make the announcement right away. Ser Erryk asked if his cane should be brought to him. Viserys refused. He was in good spirits and felt no need. The Kinsguard was also sent away when he protested too much for her father's liking. The auspicious news rejuvenated the old king and he made his way to the throne room.

After traveling the arduous journey with the effort of a wounded dying soldier, Viserys climbed the steps of the iron throne.

Unfortunately, he miscalculated and sat too quickly. His hands were grievously injured and his cries for help echoed across the halls.

He never sat his ancestors' seat of power again.

The throne rejected him one too many times, the courtiers whispered in the following days.

Her mother on the other hand, told her to never share what she dreams about with anyone but her. No one can ever understand them. When they got older, her brothers were the exception.

She was right. But not for those reasons. The tragedy she bore witness to can't ever be spoken to another soul. Or at least not in their entirety. She won't condemn anyone to waking at night fearing the ropes of destiny tightening the noose around their necks and their loved ones.

**

"Hey. How are you feeling?"

It was her sweet youngest brother. The time spent in a mental prison seemed so far way with his childish yet not gentle voice.

"Better. How long was I asleep?" Her own voice is a rasping tired monstrosity. The words felt like ash on her tongue.

"Almost four days. You had us quite worried. You've never been dreaming for so long. Aegon even tried tickling you and told baudy jokes. He said it was just retribution but who knows with him." Daeron's tirade ranged from deeply concerned to accusatory to amiable. Though the lack of any mention of Aemond in his account troubled her. She didn't fail did she.

"Aemond. Where is he?" It was frustration and urgency combined in her tone. She had to speak to her brother. Daeron's insuing silence didn't do her any good.

"He's not hurt is he?" She would never forgive herself if she was the cause of any pain he's suffering. The dream sharing was dangerous but not at the root of any physical damage. Is he now trapped in her own dreamscape. Truly a prisoner for her gift is hers alone.

"What! No. Nothing like that. He's just ... at the black cells." Daeron's surprise is apparent. Her brother's safe. His duty as Master of whispers has him making routine trips to the black cells to talk with prisoners. Talk is one word for it though. She knows her brother's exploits so Daeron's elusive answer is still bizarre.

She asks him to continue.

Her knight brother does so after taking a deep breath. His confusion bleeds form his own words. "Something happened. He's been relentless at hunting these men the last couple of days. He and Cregan talk in low murmurs. I know they're hiding something. I just don't know what."

Blood and Cheese.

Who else would make her brother leave her bedside. Her visions reached him. And he's already caught the culprits. Or at least his lapdogs.

Should she be overjoyed. At peace. Angry. Sad. Mad with grief. Guilty for condemning someone for a crime they haven't yet committed. Or better yet for not feeling guilty at all.

She doesn't know.

Something she hadn't registered at first comes back to the forefront.

"Cregan. Why would he and Cregan hide anything at all?"

Daeron told her Cregan had visited while she was still unconsious. It warmed her inside for bit than froze upon hearing he hasn't returned since.

Did he not care any longer about her welfare. Was his singular visit simply for court theatrics. Would he cancel the wedding, not wanting to be saddled with an addle-minded bride.

"It feels as if Aemond trusts him more than I. The second the two left your room, it was as if a fire had ignited in thir souls. They were brothers in arms on a warpath." Her brother's remark with a not so subtle hint of jealousy pulled her from her intrusive thoughts.

No. Aemond must've him told of her dreams.

Wait a moment. He didn't run for the hills. He joined him on a unholy mission of revenge.

That's ... interesting.

"Can you bring Cregan here. I'd like to talk to him"

"Mother would throw a bloody fit if she's not the first person I notify that you're awake. But ... I suppose I can sneak your northman here using the secret passages."

"Thank you." She would've hugged him had she had better control of her atrophied limbs.

"Don't thank me just yet. You'll owe me a favor sister." She forgot how young he was at times. When he behaved as a little shit like Aegon, she remembered.

"Fine. Just hurry."

Her brother left through the concealed door next to her wardrobe without making a sound. Heleana was left to wonder what must be going through Cregan's mind at the moment. She'll find out soon enough.