Within the dim confines of the Hand's tower, Alicent paced back and forth, her silk skirts whispering against the polished stone floor.
Her fingers clutched the folds of her gown, knuckles white with tension. Otto Hightower remained unmoved behind his desk.
"Out with it," Otto barked. "You are a queen. Act like one. Enough of this anxious prattling."
"My children," Alicent said, stopping mid-step, her gaze locking on her father's with fierce intensity. "The very flesh and blood I brought into this world… gone for a year without a word. Not a sliver of news! And you tell me to calm myself?"
Otto shook his head slowly. "How many times must I tell you? No news is good news. That said, there are… interesting rumours from the Dothraki Sea."
Alicent froze, eyes narrowing. "Rumours?"
Otto leaned back slightly, steepling his hands. "Three large winged beasts have been sighted over the grasslands. The free cities are taking notice, Qohor in particular. Their blacksmiths are eager, it seems, to incorporate dragon scales into their forges."
"So… still nothing concrete?" Alicent laughed, a harsh, mocking sound that echoed across the chamber. "You are the Hand of the King, and yet you cannot find the location of two children?"
Otto said nothing, his gaze locking onto hers, silent and immovable, until her own words faltered under the weight of his scrutiny.
"I understand your worry," he said at last. "But there is nothing we can do unless they return of their own accord. What matters now is understanding why they left."
"You…" Alicent's voice wavered. "Are you blaming me? For their escape?"
His silence spoke volumes.
"They are not mere pawns," Otto said, finally. "Unlike your other children, Baelon and Helaena are intelligent…too intelligent, perhaps. They likely saw what we intended and chose to have no part in it. Especially considering your insistence that Helaena marry Aegon."
He paused, eyes narrowing slightly. "I recall you were once appalled by these Valyrian customs. Why the sudden change of heart?"
"Change of heart?" Alicent's voice cracked as she bit her lips. "Rhaenyra has produced a litter of bastards. If Aegon marries Helaena and they have trueborn Targaryen children, it will only strengthen his claim. Am I wrong to consider this?"
"No." Otto shook his head, his expression hard. "You are right. Merely… misguided in execution. You gave them an opportunity to escape."
"They are my children! I will not lock them away like animals!" Alicent's furious cry was all that answered him.
"And look what that has achieved," Otto shot back, rising from his seat, palms slamming against the desk. "The perfect queen for Aegon has fled. The brightest mind of your children has fled. And all this… with three fully grown dragons."
"Regardless, I cannot allow you to make any more mistakes with my youngest grandson." He paused, breathing deeply, pinching the centre of his brows as he tried to steady himself. "Daeron will be raised in Oldtown."
"What?" Alicent's eyes widened, horror pooling in their depths. "N-no… he is just a child! Why must you take him from me, too?"
"You need not scream like a common shrew. It has been decided. The King has agreed," Otto said, raising a hand to forestall her protest.
"Father…" Alicent ground her teeth, her gaze burning red as tears threatened to spill. "For the honour of our family, I have sacrificed everything, my life, my love, my friends… my very dignity. What more must you take from me?!"
"You are a Hightower, in life and in death." Otto's expression morphed into something cold...terrible even. "It would be best if you remember that...this is your duty to perform and your burden to carry. If you do not accede, it will be your children who suffer"
Alicent parted her lips, wanting to deny his words. She did not want to have a part in this any longer.
But…she was too far gone. Could she truly turn her back now?
***
Baelon walked through the streets of Sallosh with Helaena at his side, her arm looped through his own. Their footsteps were the only sound to disturb the stillness.
"What do you plan on doing now?" Helaena asked, tilting her head slightly as she looked up at him.
Baelon did not answer at once. He let the question settle, his gaze drifting ahead as they walked.
"I initially thought we could explore the ruins of Valyria, but…" He said at last, "There are simply too many unknowns. I doubt it would kill us outright, but there is no need to gamble when we can stack the odds in our favour."
"So?" Helaena raised a brow, waiting.
"I plan to have us look to Asshai," Baelon said with a casual shrug, as if he were suggesting a change in scenery rather than visiting the edge of the known world.
They passed through the heart of the city as he spoke. Sallosh no longer resembled the ruin they had first claimed.
Where collapsed stone and shattered streets had once choked the paths, there was now order.
The small streams and channels that once trickled through broken masonry had widened into clear, flowing waterways, their waters glimmering as they caught sunlight.
They wound through the city like veins, carrying life back into a place long forsaken by it.
Lush trees lined the streets, their roots cracking old stone. Leaves whispered overhead, green canopies arching above empty plazas and silent towers.
Helaena sighed softly. "That means we won't be staying here much longer, does it?"
Baelon glanced at her. "Why?" He asked. "Reluctant?"
"I suppose…" She murmured, her gaze drifting across the city they had shaped with their own hands. "We built this ourselves. And now we just… leave."
They slowed as they approached their home.
It was as modest as ever, but it seemed almost unreal against the ruin that surrounded it.
The house sat nestled in thick, vibrant greenery, vines curling lazily along its walls, flowers blooming where stone should have resisted them.
Two simple wooden chairs were laid out in the sunlight, set upon thick grass that had no business growing so richly in a dead city.
The air there felt lighter, warmer, as though the place itself wished to be remembered.
They stopped before it for a moment, neither eager to cross the threshold.
Baelon guided her forward, and they sat side by side on the chairs, the wood creaking softly beneath their weight.
Between them stood a low table, weathered but sturdy, and upon it rested a single book.
"I'm reluctant too," Baelon admitted as he leaned back, letting the warmth of the sun settle over him. "But rumours of those three troublemakers are beginning to spread. Slowly, yes, but they always do. If we remain, our little secret here may cease to be one. It would be wiser to disappear for a few years."
Helaena let out a small, childish huff. "Plans, plans, and more plans. When do you ever not have one?"
Baelon chuckled, lifting a hand to tap the tip of her nose. She scowled at him, though it lacked any real heat.
"I never said we couldn't return," he said lightly. "It will simply have to wait."
"Really?" Her eyes lit up, glowing as she looked around the home they had carved out of ruin. A smile slowly spread across her face. "Then why Asshai?"
Baelon gestured toward the book on the table. Its worn cover bore a familiar title: History of Valyria.
"We've learned much about Valyria's past during this past year, and I seem to have vastly underestimated the danger present there," he said. "Their mastery of pyromancy, their blood magic, and their dealings in darker arts especially. While we are proficient in fire, the latter two remain… a bit more obscure."
He folded his hands together.
"Asshai may hold what Valyria lost, or never recorded. Knowledge of those magics, and more importantly, their counters. If we can learn them there, we spare ourselves any unnecessary risks."
At the thought of it, both of their eyes burned with the same quiet fervour.
In this world, uncertainty was the only constant. And only power that belonged to oneself could be trusted…power that could be used to shield those you loved.
They were already strong. Stronger than they had ever imagined. Pyromancy was second nature to them. Their physical strength has eclipsed their fellow men by no small amount. Three dragons answered their call.
And yet—
It was not enough.
If Valyria, in all its splendour and arrogance, could vanish in a single day, then what of them? What was their strength against a fate that had erased an empire?
"Baelon," Helaena said softly. "What do you think caused the Doom?"
He did not hesitate. "Not the faintest clue, dear sister. Legends speak of the Fourteen Flames erupting together, shattering the peninsula and destroying all within it. But what set it in motion is known only to the Valyrians." His lips curved faintly. "And they died with the answer."
Helaena hummed, thoughtful.
"But don't worry," Baelon continued. "We will only step into Old Valyria once I am certain we are safe. And not before I establish another base, one we can use as an intermediary for any… ventures."
"Like this?" she asked, gesturing vaguely toward the ruined city around them.
"No." Baelon's eyes glinted. "Something far larger. Far grander…."