Helaena Targaryen

The setting sun streamed through the stained-glass windows of the Tower of the Hand, casting golden hues onto the walls. Seated by the window, Princess Helaena Targaryen watched a small beetle crawl slowly across the surface of the table.

Among glass jars and delicate wooden boxes, dozens of colorful insects moved under the light, their transparent wings and shimmering shells like living jewels. She smiled tenderly.

"They are so calm... so sincere," he murmured, extending a finger for a blue moth to perch on. "They don't plot, they don't lie. They just live... and die."

From the corridor, the distant laughter of Aegon and Aemond echoed, harsh and detached. Helaena did not turn; she seemed to hear another melody, one that only she understood.

"Wings break... before flight..." he whispered, staring into the void as if seeing something the world had never seen before. "And fire consumes even the innocent."

The moth left her finger, rising in slow flight until it touched the windowpane. Helaena followed the movement with her lilac eyes, filled with a gentle sadness.

Go, little flame... before the dragon awakens.

The insect disappeared into the twilight light, and for a moment, Helaena smiled. A fragile, sweet, and distant smile, like someone who sees the future and has already accepted what is to come.