Pursing his lips, Baelon watched the crowd settle into the vast, sea-stone hall of High Tide.
However, this was no dinner.
The clamour had softened from frantic screams to muted groans as servants moved between the wounded, bearing basins of water and strips of linen.
He and Helaena sat side by side on a pair of chairs tucked into a shadowed corner of the chamber.
They were little more than bystanders now. Helaena leaned into him, resting her head gently on his shoulder, her silver-gold hair brushing his jaw, her fingers loosely curled around his forearm.
Thanks to his quick thinking, the two of them escaped with little more than a layer of dust clinging to their clothes and the tremble of leftover fear in their chests.
Compared to those huddled around the maester, they were lucky. Unfairly so.
"We failed…" Helaena murmured, barely audible beneath the low rumble of voices. "Baelon, I don't think we should risk anything else. We must leave as soon as possible…"
Baelon hummed in agreement, but he had some reservations. "But—"
"We were lucky," she cut in softly, her fingers tightening on his arm. "If even one moment had gone differently, we might be the ones lying on the tables. We already have a way out. I don't want you to risk yourself again."
Her tone carried no rebuke…only worry. And the worry rang true.
Baelon lifted his gaze toward the centre of the hall, where the maester knelt over Aemond. His younger brother lay still upon a table at the heart of the hall, his face streaked with blood and dust.
The maester dabbed carefully at the torn flesh of Aemond's right cheek, where a jagged shard of stone had ripped through deeply.
Worse yet, other bits of debris had struck dangerously close to Aemon's right eye, shattering it beyond saving.
The sight twisted something inside Baelon.
Technically, he and Helaena had changed the future.
Yet the ending had found its way back to the same place.
No. Maybe even worse.
Just as in his vision, Aemond had lost his right eye. But now, he had also scarred the right side of his cheek.
And worse, Lucerys nursed a deep gash along the length of his left arm, while Jace sat pale and shaken nearby.
The aftermath spared no one.
Still, Baelon was not entirely resigned.
He felt the situation could have changed the outcome if he…
Helaena shifted, grabbing his attention as she lifted her head from his shoulder to look at him fully, her violet eyes looking at him.
"I know what you're thinking, Baelon. I know you better than you know yourself." She reached up and brushed a bit of dust from his cheek. "You're wondering if one different choice would have changed all this. If one step, one word, one act could have changed this for the better."
Baelon said nothing. But his silence admitted everything.
"Nothing we could have done would have changed it," she whispered. "Even if we altered something, fate would have found another way. And it would have struck back harder. Maybe at you… maybe at me."
Her words hit him hard. Harsh, but true in the way deepest truths often were.
He had tried. He had acted. And the world had still found its way to this moment.
For better or worse, this change only really hurt his nephews and various retainers outside of Aemond who would have originally been injured.
But if meddling further meant risking Helaena… then he could not allow it.
Escape was their only path left.
Escaping and refusing to challenge fate any more than they already had.
"Brother." Her voice pulled him from the spiral of thought. "If we truly mean to leave… surely now would be the right time for you to tell me where we should go?"
She held his gaze with quiet expectation, her hand still resting against his arm.
Baelon nodded slowly as he got up from his seat. He offered his arm, and Helaena took it without hesitation.
Together they slipped out of the hall, weaving past servants and wounded knights, their steps soft against the stone, careful disturb the fragile quiet settling over High Tide.
The corridor beyond was nearly empty. A lone torch sputtered on the wall, its flame bending weakly in the draft.
When they reached the keep's outer doors, Baelon pushed them open, allowing the cold air to wash over them.
Driftmark lay bathed in silver, the moon hanging above like a watchful eye, its pale glow spilling across the courtyard and the white sand below.
Only after Baelon looked around and made sure they were alone did he finally speak.
"There are precious few places in the world where we could go, sister… and fewer still where we might safely make a home." They walked side by side down the winding path leading away from High Tide, their shadows entwining across the ground they walked.
Helaena brushed loose hair from her face as she patiently listened.
"We cannot remain in Westeros," Baelon continued. "The free cities of Essos despise us. Asshai is cloaked in dangers no sane man would test, and Sothoryos…" He exhaled slowly. "Sothoryos devours even its own explorers. From my understanding, we could visit these lands for a short time, but we cannot stay. Not without placing ourselves in needless peril."
"What about Old Valyria?" Helaena tilted her head, watching him closely, clearly curious about their ancestor's home.
Baelon halted mid-step, the pebbles crunching under his boots. He debated his words carefully before responding. "That… may end with our deaths far sooner than fate intends."
Helaena frowned. "But why? I know it's dangerous, but surely not—"
"It is one of the most lethal places in the known world," he said quietly. "The Doom did not simply end Valyria. It brought ruin to the very land on which it stood. With the Fourteen Flames, all of which were volcanoes, exploding during The Doom, every inch of Valyria turned into a hellscape in which even the dragonlords could not escape."
"Not even we could survive it casually. After all…we do have precedent." His expression darkened. "Have you ever heard the story of Princess Aerea Targaryen and Balerion?"
"Aerea? The name sounds familiar, but…Balerion? You mean father's…?" Helaena blinked. "What happened? Why have I not heard this before?"
"Because our family buried the tale wherever possible," Baelon murmured as they resumed their walk. "It was a stain they wished forgotten. I only discovered it in old records from the Citadel. Princess Aerea stole Balerion, and they flew to Valyria. No one knows why. But two years later… Balerion returned with his rider in tow."
They reached the edge of the island, then the cliff overlooking the dark, moonlit sea. Baelon stepped closer to the precipice, glancing down at the restless waves before continuing.
"Aerea was dying when they found her," he said, his voice low. "Her skin burned with a fever so fierce that it blistered even the air. It was as if she were being cooked from the inside out. She had wounds that remained open… festering still. And, inside those wounds…"
He swallowed, recalling the description from the book he had read. "Things writhed beneath her flesh. Worm-like creatures nesting under her skin. Grand Maester Benifer tried to remove them, but they persisted. Multiplied."
Helaena's hand flew to her mouth, "Then did she…?"
Baelon looked at the moon above as he answered. "She died screaming just after sunset."
"Even Balerion suffered," Baelon pressed on. "Long gashes carved into his scales, as though some vast tool carved off his flesh. He dripped smoking blood for days and bore fresh scars all across his body. He was so weakened he became the first dragon ever confined to the Dragonpit for his own safety."
"Later, our father claimed the Black Dread," Baelon said. "But Balerion was already at his twilight. Their bond lasted barely a year before he died in 94 AC."
Helaena stood silent for a long moment. Her earlier curiosity shrivelled into a tight knot of dread.
"So Old Valyria is out," she whispered.
"Most certainly it is."
"But then where?" She asked, turning toward him as a gust of wind carried her hair across her face.
"To remain safe, we must choose somewhere uninhabited. Remote. A place where word of us cannot easily spread." Baelon clasped his hands behind his back, thinking aloud. "We must be able to feed ourselves, and our dragons as well as sorting out issues regarding our water supply."
Each requirement deepened the wrinkle on Helaena's brow. "There doesn't seem to be a place in the known world that meets all of that."
Baelon finally smiled. It was a quick, clever curl of the lips, as his eyes glinted with quiet triumph.
"Oh, Helaena… you underestimate your dear brother." His tone was tinged with a hint of pride. "I do, in fact, have somewhere in mind."
Her eyebrows lifted. "Truly? Pray tell, wise one, where shall we build our new home?"
Baelon chuckled under his breath, looking up at the star-scattered sky. He reached out his hand, as if he was to grab the stars out of the night sky.
"Tell me, sister…" He paused, "…have you ever heard of Sarnor?"