𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧'𝐬 𝐎𝐚𝐭𝐡

Helaena Targaryen

Footsteps echoed against cold stone as Helaena walked upstairs through the ruins. Slowly but surely, she climbed the stairs, snowflakes falling gently around her. The cold breeze brushed against her cheeks and rustled through her hair as she wandered through the old castle ruins. The stones beneath her feet whispered stories of the past, carrying the weight of history with each step.

The snow continued to fall, creating a serene atmosphere as Helaena made her way higher. The cold breeze remained a constant companion, adding a touch of chill to the air but also a sense of tranquillity.

As she reached the top of the stairs, Helaena paused to take in the snowy landscape spread out before her. The world seemed to hold its breath, enveloped in a peaceful stillness that matched the quiet beauty of the ruins. Standing there, amidst the remnants of a forgotten kingdom, Helaena felt a connection to the past. Or perhaps the future?

Walking through the quiet ruins, Helaena felt a strange unease in her stomach. Despite the calm surroundings, something felt off. The once-grand castle now lay in ruins, with only scattered stones and a few standing walls left.

As she moved amid the rubble, the unsettling feeling lingered. The emptiness of the space heightened the eerie atmosphere, and Helaena couldn't shake the sense that something wasn't right. The snow-covered ground muffled her footsteps, creating a sombre soundtrack to the desolation.

The cold breeze, though gentle, carried a chilling touch that seemed to seep into Helaena. The emptiness of the once-thriving castle almost mirrored the void within her as she explored the quiet ruins. It was so quiet. Too quiet. The only sound she could hear was the wind almost weeping as it slid through stone and crows that flew over her head.

Moving deeper through the ruins, Helaena's eyes caught the remnants of a fiery past etched onto the stones, still faintly hinting at the destructive force that had swept through.

To her left, amidst a pile of fallen stones, she glimpsed a familiar glint. There, resting on the rubble, was her father's golden crown, shining beneath the cold stone.

Approaching cautiously, she reached for the crown, cradling it in her hands. The touch of the cold metal sent a shiver down her spine. Tracing her fingers over the symbols embedded in the golden surface, she felt a connection to the history it represented, a history marred by both glory and tragedy.

"If you are dead, that means they are all dead," Helaena said with tears streaming down her face as she dusted the ash of her father's crown. Was he burned? Eaten alive? What would his crown do in a place like this? She didn't understand.

The remnants of the once-majestic crown spoke of a bygone era, and in that moment, little Helaena found herself standing at the intersection of past and present. The stones beneath her held the scars of a kingdom in turmoil, while the crown in her hands carried the weight of her family's legacy.

As she held the golden artefact close, a mix of emotions washed over her, pride, sorrow, and a determination to understand the events that led to this crumbling ruin. In the silence of the fallen castle.

Continuing to move through the ruins, Helaena's gaze fell upon a spilt goblet of wine, its crimson contents seeping into the cracks of the stone floor. Nearby, she noticed strands of white hair, now stained with the spilt wine, scattered haphazardly as if torn in haste.

A faint sound reached her ears, the soft, mournful weeping of someone nearby. Intrigued and apprehensive, Helaena followed the sound until she came upon a heart-wrenching scene. There, amidst the ruins, lay a body draped in silk, laid out on a makeshift funeral pyre of wood.

The sight sent a shiver down Helaena's spine, and she took a step back, her heart heavy with sorrow. A young woman, dressed in black and gold, knelt beside the body, her tear-streaked face contorted in grief. Her hair, once long and flowing, was now cut short and unevenly.