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298 AC, King's Landing
Princess Daenerys Targaryen skipped around the corridor of the Red Keep. She didn't like the fortress very much, being far more imposing and threatening than her home in Sunspear. Alas, her father had ordered all three of his children to come with him to King's Landing, and if she were honest, Daenerys likely thought that he had planned on marrying her off to the Targaryens of Dragonstone, the main branch of the royal family, or at the very least, to return one of the princesses to marry Rhaegar, her older brother.
Her father's delaying of his heir's marriage was the subject of gossip back in Dorne, especially given that House Dayne had been spurned since they had been looking for a match between Rhaegar and Ashara Dayne.
Despite the glamour of it, Daenerys found the entire affair to be a bore. It would be an honour, of course, to marry into the main branch of the royal family, but she couldn't imagine herself living in a place where everything was as intimidating as it was in the Red Keep. She could not explain it, but from the moment she set foot inside the fortress, she felt like she was walking a very fine edge, where a wrong move would be her downfall.
The young princess put these thoughts behind her, for she had little if any choice in the matter of her betrothal anyway. Sure, things had gotten less restrictive in recent years, with more and more nobles giving their children the option of accepting or refusing their betrothals, given the many… many… tragedies that occurred when husbands and wives could not tolerate one another, especially when magic was involved. She still remembered tales of some Stark Maiden stabbing a Baratheon with a sword of ice in a spat during their courtships.
Of course, this was informal at best, and completely up to the head of the family, and in Daenerys's case, her father. Unfortunately for her, the newly risen Prince of Dorne would not care whether she liked her inevitable husband or not.
At least it would be better than marrying Viserys. She liked her brother well enough for most days, but he had his moments where he frightened her, much like their father, when he was denied something, though these outbursts were rare. Still, Daenerys found the idea of marrying her siblings to be unsettling.
Even the royal family had started to walk away from the practice, which had begun to fade away sometimes during the reign of Viserys the Peaceful over a century ago. Apparently, it was proposed by his eldest son, Aegon, who claimed that the practice of marrying siblings often resulted in more sickly babes. Many had dismissed them at first, for it was something of a scandal, but over the years, more and more became convinced.
Nowadays, House Targaryen's policy seemed to ensure that every maiden of their blood would marry a Targaryen, and any left would marry one of the Great Houses of the realm, as it would not cause the propagation of dragons outside the royal family. Her father had been loud in his comments regarding this decision, often calling it a betrayal of their legacy as heirs of Valyria.
It was one of the reasons why House Targaryen of Dorne was set in place by Daeron Targaryen after his conquest of it, even if the official one was that he wished to reward his uncle, Prince Viserys, with his service as Hand, by granting him a kingdom to govern. The Targaryens of Dorne also became a branch of the house that was estranged enough that marriage between them often risked very few complications in terms of the health of the offspring.
Unfortunately, to secure Dorne, their ancestors needed to marry a few Dornish houses, something that her father blamed for the low rate of dragon eggs hatching in cradles for the Targaryens of Sunspear, weakening their house massively. At this time, the only dragon that was under their control was Shrykos, who had been her grandfather's mount, and that of his father before him, though the beast remained unclaimed after her grandfather's death. Her father and both her brothers had made attempts, only to be rebuffed, sometimes with only a warning. Daenerys herself was not allowed to try, as it had been forbidden for Targaryen girls until their marriage, aside from cradle hatchings, of course.
Still, it did not matter that their house was wealthy, far wealthier than most other kingdoms, since the Crown had officially included the Stepstones in the dominion of the Kingdom of Dorne, and most of the tolls came into their coffers, but it was not enough for her father.
They were called the magicless dragons, the dragonless Targaryens, and every comment made her father's eyes blaze in anger at the perceived mockery, especially given that they were so common in the Capital. Daenerys wasn't sure about that magic part, since it is not as prevalent in Dorne after the mass migration of the Water Mages to Essos, as well as the lack of a proper Citadel in Dorne, something that her father was also bitter about.
Hence, expecting that the Prince of Dorne would be in a foul mood given the expected barbs that came in King's Landing, Daenerys had done her best to leave his presence as quickly as she could.
She didn't think that anyone would even notice her absence, and she decided to use her time in the Capital to finally do something useful. She trotted along the Red Keep, greeting the servants.
A part of her wanted to visit the Citadel in this city. She knew that her many-times great uncle Aemon happened to be the Archmaester of the Higher Mysteries there, having chosen the path of a scholar since his youth. The young princess had a few questions to ask him, pertinent questions.
Daenerys had seen the great Citadel of King's Landing as she entered the city. Apparently, it was once a Great Sept of some sort, which started to be repurposed into becoming something of a library for the Citadel, before slowly morphing into purely being a place of learning and not religion.
Now, she only needed to sneak out of the Red Keep to get there. At first, she had carelessly decided to follow a few of the servants around, hoping that they would lead her out of that maze of a fortress eventually. She would admit that it was not the greatest of plans, but it was certainly fun. There were so many pretty tapestries displayed all over the Red Keep, and she even saw a beautiful garden filled with blue roses of all things.
Daenerys did this for some time, until she saw the Red Keep's library. It was massive, and libraries had Maesters looking after them, did they not? Following them would likely be more productive than doing the same to servants, if she hoped to make her way to the Citadel, wouldn't it?
Shrugging, she entered, only to find that the library was surprisingly empty of people aside from the guards at the door. She supposed that with the Citadel being so close, many wouldn't be interested in a smaller one in the Red Keep.
It was their loss, for the young princess found the place to be strangely peaceful. She walked around its many shelves with a smile on her face, only to trip on a bookshelf and fall towards a lit hearth. Her hands fell onto the flames first, and while most would have screamed in pain, Daenerys Targaryen did not.
After all, she had a secret, one that she had discovered two years past, when her father had accidentally left out a vial of Wildfire, in his strange obsession with the material, and she accidentally knocked it over. She should have suffered severe burns that day, and yet, her skin remained utterly unblemished. Her grandfather had banned the material from the city and sent away the Alchemists that her father had invited to Sunspear. Of course, with Prince Jaehaerys perishing, these Alchemists were quickly returning to her home, something that her mother distinctly disliked.
Ever since that day, Daenerys learned that she was not normal. She had heard stories of a few members of her family being blessed with Fire Magic, who legends claimed were immune to their flames, but she had never seen it herself, and she didn't remember it being the case for all flames. Curious, she had attempted to guide some flames with her will, and she could move them somewhat, but it was a far cry from the feats of great mages anywhere else in the Seven Kingdoms and beyond.
Nevertheless, Daenerys knew that her father would have loved nothing more than to have a practitioner of the great arts of Valyria in Sunspear, but something instinctual inside her told her that it would have been a bad idea to reveal it.
The young princess shook her head, trying not to think of these troubling matters, and instead, did her best to ensure that no one was watching her. Thankfully, she was, and she would not have to suffer another mummery to explain her lack of injuries. However, just as she prepared to remove her hand, she realised that it was grasping a lever of a sort.
Curious, she pulled on it and heard a small thundering sound next to her. Surprised, she removed her hand from the hearth to turn towards it, only to groan at the sight of the flames burning the sleeve of her dress. She quickly patted them away, but she dreaded having to explain to her mother how she had burned a dress… again… It was made from silks from Yi-Ti as well, and likely worth a small fortune, given how her father had chosen not to leave out any expense during their visit.
Deciding to push that thought away and to focus instead on the mystery at hand, Daenerys looked at the small imprint next to the hearth, where the thud had come from, and gently pushed it. Somehow, the wall opened up like a door. Was this one of the infamous secret passages in the Red Keep? She had heard that Rhaenyra the Fool had destroyed them during her attack on the fortress, but it was possible that a few would remain.
Unable to stifle her curiosity, the young princess entered the passageway hesitantly, before jumping when the entrance closed behind her. She panicked, realising that she was trapped in a dark passageway; she would have screamed if it were not for the sudden faint light illuminating her surroundings.
It was then that she realised that it was not a passageway, but a room, one filled with books and scrolls, as well as a few strange trinkets that were unknown to her. Though most importantly, in the middle stood a pedestal where the origin of the source of light that illuminated the secret room. She immediately recognised it for what it was, a Glass Candle.
She had seen the Maester using one back in Sunspear, though it had been one sponsored by the Citadel of King's Landing. Her father often bragged that his uncle, Duncan, had found it when he attacked a few pirates who tried to gain a foothold on the Stepstones. Most of the Glass Candles were separated into Great Houses, and some of their strongest Vassals by Baelor the Seer, before the Iron Throne conquered Dorne, and it quickly became a priceless treasure given the ease of communication that occurred, should one have access to a student of any Citadel with a Valyrian Steel link, for it was one of the requirements of getting it.
She was never allowed to come near it, but she was sure that the Glass Candles were not supposed to remain lit without someone actively using them. As if it had been reading her thoughts, the Glass Candle released a pulse of light, and the world around the princess disappeared.
Instead, in the blink of an eye, Daenerys Targaryen was back in the throne room, though it looked strange. The ornaments were missing, and it was completely and utterly deserted for one. She would have likely found other differences if it were not for the voice that spoke up behind her, "Be not afraid!"
Of course, that jump made Daenerys afraid, and she raised her hand, which had been engulfed in flames, to attack, only to stop as she heard giggling. The young princess looked at her own hand in awe, surprised at the ease with which she commanded the flames. She had spent years trying to do it back home, and she hadn't achieved anything even close to this.
Remembering what had just occurred, she glared at the source of the giggle, which happened to be a beautiful older woman with Valyrian features, whose purple eyes gleamed in amusement.
Seeing that she was not in any danger, and that this was probably one of the Princesses of the Iron Throne, she performed a curtsy as she had a hundred times before, "I apologise, Your Grace."
She was slightly embarrassed but hoped that the person before her would introduce herself, but the older woman gave a dismissive wave of her hand, one that was very unfitting to royalty, "Oh, do not concern yourselves with the formalities here. They have their place, of course, but I believe that the dead do not quite have any need of it."
"The dead?" Daenerys asked, confused.
The gleam in the older woman's eyes intensified, "Ah, yes, where are my manners. My name is Helaena Targaryen."
Daenerys stiffened. There had only been one Helaena Targaryen in the history of their house, and every princess often dreamt of being like her, of changing the world as she had. After all, it was said that she had all but raised Aegon the Good, had fought Rhaenyra the fool in combat alongside the White Wolf himself, had pushed for the spread of the Hospices across the Seven Kingdoms, with the Maiden of the Vale.
She also worked to establish the individual Citadels in every Kingdom, as well as allowing women to learn there, though they would not be Maesters, and could only earn a single link in the Higher Mysteries or Healing, though each one for a different reason.
The former was because many of the magic users that existed back then were Woods Witches, who needed to be incentivised to spread their learnings to the Citadel, and the latter because of the pressure of the Hospices, where more often than not, each Maester was assisted by dozens of female assistants that required some form of official education.
There were rumours, barely more than stories, that Helaena Targaryen possessed magic, though that was never confirmed until her death, though she was often spoken of with fear by the many lords of the realm. It seemed that the rumours were, in fact, true.
There was only a single question that she needed to ask, "How? How is this possible?"
"As a dear friend of mine would say, it's all very timey wimey…"
"Timey what?" Daenerys asked, confused at the nonsense being uttered.
The older woman simply chuckled, "Oh, it's just that I've never really got to say it. I understand why Harry did this… It's just so much fun. Anyway, this is a message, of a sort, one that changes with the strands of destiny. Quite an elegant little trick, one that I am quite proud of, if I do say so myself. It took me years to be able to do something like this, though I am sure that my teacher would have easily outstripped me when it comes to my divination."
Despite herself, the young princess felt awed by the realisation, "Are… Are you a Dreamer?"
To her surprise, the living legend before her looked somewhat exasperated, "A Seer would be the more accurate term, those who can naturally use the field of divination."
Ah, yes, she remembered the Maesters calling it that sometimes. She liked Dreamers better; it felt like a greater title somehow. She saw the older woman's lips twitch as if she knew what she was personally thinking. Choosing not to let the woman tease her even further, she changed the subject, "You left this message for me? Why?"
The woman tilted her head, though her expression had finally turned serious, "Why do you ask questions whose answer you already know?"
"Is it because of what I can do?" At her approving nod, the young girl continued, "Why me? There are others who can use magic, better and stronger people."
"Yes, there are," the woman confirmed, "But they are not you."
"I don't understand," the young princess muttered.
The woman's expression finally turned serious, "Once, our family held a great and terrible destiny, and while we became free of it, it has… echoes, repeated remnants of Fate's terrible hand. You were to be a crucial element of this destiny, for good and for ill."
Daenerys still felt confused by it, something that the 'dead' princess must have realised, as she gave her a soft smile, "Perhaps this will help."
Suddenly, the world shifted once more, and Daenerys found herself in a desert. In the middle of a desert was a great pyre, one that felt… more than a simple fire, especially with a great crimson comet flying in the sky above it. There was a tint to it, something that she failed to put into words. Slowly, she saw movement from the pyre, as a figure somehow left it, completely and utterly unburnt.
It was her, Daenerys realised, completely hairless, and utterly naked, with three hatchling dragons screeching as she left the flames.
The girl in the fire turned to her and glared, and suddenly, Daenerys felt herself being pulled back from the vision, "What was that?"
"A future that once was, one that will never be. Yet its remnants still hold power. You have asked me the reason why I have sent this message to you, and it is because you can stop what would befall our family."
Daenerys frowned, "And what would that be?"
The world changed once more, and she saw many flashes in the world, one with her father riding a dragon burning down King's Landing, another where something similar occurred above Sunspear. There were ones where she saw her family perish in foreign soils, with the world having turned grey and enveloped with fallen ashes.
Then she saw her mother dying in the green flames of Wildfire, and her father cackling madly while sitting atop the Iron Throne, demanding that he burn them all… She saw her father cut her older brother's throat, and let his blood spill on the ground, as hooded figures chanted, before a dragon egg beneath a pyre of Wildfire, with the world then erupting in glowing green flames.
"STOP!" she yelled out, and the visions did as she asked.
Helaena Targaryen gave her a pitying look, "Your father has… ambitions, ones that can be expressed in many ways, and ones that he has no qualms about committing horrors to achieve."
"No," Daenerys denied, "He wouldn't… You do not know him…"
"My dear… What I think matters very little; I have long since died, but I have chosen you, Daenerys. That is something that is written, something that cannot be undone, for the ink is dry, but what you will become remains unwritten. I have left you this Glass Candle, which holds lessons that I have devised for you. What you do with your gifts will be up to you. Perhaps what I have shown you will never come to pass, perhaps it will. You will learn to see these things for yourself, and you shall make your own decisions, and live with the consequences that they bring."
Daenerys would admit that she slumped slightly at that admission. After all, the older woman was right. Helaena Targaryen was dead, was she not? She could not force her to do anything, but then again, the fact that she was having a conversation with a corpse who had perished over a century ago did not exactly make things better, one who somehow answered every question she ever had.
Speaking of which, the older woman spoke up, "Of course, you could just leave the room, leave the Glass Candle be, and completely forget about all of this. There is nothing stopping you at all."
"No!" the young princess exclaimed. She then grabbed the Glass Candle and held it closely to her chest. She did not know if this was because it was finally something exciting or it was out of fear of the visions that she had seen, but she felt a certain possessiveness when it came to this knowledge. Daenerys Targaryen had been told all her life that she would be nothing more than the wife of a Prince or a Lord and bear his children. This… This was something that was her own, a person, no matter how long they had remained dead, who chose her, and she would not give it, not for anything.
She turned towards Helaena with a glare on her face, one who likely looked more like a pout than anything, but it completely froze when she saw the older woman's lips twitching, realisation setting in, "You knew that I would accept."
"Let's just say that I had a very good guess," the Seer answered, "It is not up to me to dictate to you your destiny, but for yours to figure out your own, a journey of self-discovery, one might call it, but people can be quite predictable, but that is for another lesson. But for now, you need only take the Glass Candle with you as you leave. Keep it close and light it with your flames whenever you wish to start your lessons."
Then, the Glass Candle's flames petered out, and the illusion of the throne room faded away, with the room returning to its previous darkness. However, she heard another thud, and the hidden door opened before her, allowing her to return to the Red Keep's library.
The young princess quickly hid the Glass Candle that she was holding in her undamaged sleeve, and she quickly walked to the chambers assigned to her, hiding the instrument in the jewellery box that her mother gifted her for her seventh nameday.
She was still deep in thought. A part of her thought that this was nought but an elaborate dream, but the Glass Candle was proof that it was not. Was her family truly meant to go mad like she had seen in the visions? Was her father truly desperate enough to become this… monster? He was not a good man, by any means, often with cruel remarks at the tip of his tongue, but to burn men alive, to kill Rhaegar, to rebel against the royal family… It was almost unthinkable.
No, legendary figure or not, Daenerys did not have it in her to condemn her family on just her words. And even her new teacher was in agreement, telling her that it would be better to withhold her judgment. After all, Daenerys Targaryen would learn the ways of magic, and she would learn the truth for herself; she had to.
It was perfectly possible for Helaena Targaryen to be mistaken, right? Right?
The princess's thoughts were interrupted by the sudden creak of the chamber door and the soft rustle of skirts. Her mother, Princess Rhaella, swept inside with a sternness that she only reserved for her children. "Daenerys," she said, exasperation colouring her tone, "your absence was noticed. You cannot simply disappear in the Red Keep without informing anyone. Half the guards are looking for you."
Daenerys froze.
Her mother's eyes drifted downward and widened the moment they found the scorched sleeve.
"Daenerys," she said, stepping forward in alarm, "what happened to your dress?"
The young princess swallowed, but answered as steadily as she could, the lie coming easily to her, "I… tripped on some candles. I caught myself before I fell, but the flame touched my sleeve. I wasn't hurt, but the dress… I came here to change it…" She gave a helpless gesture.
Her mother's face pinched in worry. At once, she reached for Daenerys's arms, her hands gentle but searching, turning them to the light to examine every inch of skin. "Are you certain you are unhurt? No blisters? No pain?"
As her mother continued to fuss over her, Daenerys's eyes kept returning to the jewellery box on her table, thinking about what was inside, and what it would mean for her, what it would mean to learn under Helaena Targaryen, and what she would become under her tutelage. One thing was for certain; she was eager to find out.
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AN: Inspiration struck with this one. I sort of started it as a bit of a historical section for the previous chapter, and it grew from there. The idea is to show a bit of Helaena's impact on the future of their house, with House Targaryen splitting after the conquest of Dorne. The Canon Targaryens were the descendants of Viserys I, since Daeron's conquest failed. It didn't here, because they had dragons, and Viserys was given Dorne for his service, which means that the Targaryens of Dorne are somewhat the Canon bloodline, even if it's changed, with echoes of Fate, which bound House Targaryen until the Long Night, sort of keeping things together in a very vague structure.
The Targaryens of Dorne are a bit of a lower house, which is used mainly to marry off to the royal family and keep the bloodline somewhat fresh. The main royal house is carefully ensuring that they don't grow too strong to rebel, hence Aerys's bitterness over it all. As usual, please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
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I tend to upload drafts of early chapters on there to get people's opinions on them, so you can read up to 20 chapters ahead as a bonus.
Thank you guys for your support in these hard times.