Chapter 77: Helaena's Prophetic Dream

"Kingsguard, tear out their tongues!" Viserys' enraged voice echoed through the throne room. Ser Erryk Cargyll, Ser Steffon Darklyn, Ser Marston Waters, and Ser Lorent Marbrand all stepped forward, restraining Moryn's brothers. Daemon looked at his brother, and after Viserys gave a firm nod, Daemon drew Dark Sister and kicked the panicked Moryn to the floor.

The once-reckless prince seemed to return to the court. Daemon swiftly hauled the dazed Moryn to his feet, punched him hard enough to shatter his teeth, and yanked out his tongue.

"Moryn, you should thank Rhaenys and my brother's mercy," Daemon said coldly, expertly raising his blade. "Otherwise, this sword would have severed your head."

Moryn writhed in pain on the floor, blood spilling around him. The same cries of agony echoed from his four brothers. Five bloody tongues fell to the floor, still twitching.

Daemon two Daughters screamed and hid behind Rhaenys, but the princess merely comforted them briefly before casting a concerned glance at the Iron Throne, where Viserys continued to groan in pain.

"Your Grace, you need the maester," Otto whispered softly.

"No," Viserys replied firmly. "The only thing I need right now is clarity. Listen." The king raised his voice. "Lucerys Velaryon is the undisputed heir to Driftmark, just as Rhaenyra is my heir. Both are recognized by the gods and law. Remember your oaths. Should such vile and absurd rumors continue, I will take the heads of those who spread them."

Viserys struggled to stand. "Believe me, the Stranger will favor your lying tongues more than I do." The king slowly tried to descend the stairs but suddenly stumbled, his foot missing the step. Otto and Ser Criston Cole rushed to catch him.

"Ugh."

Sweat poured from Viserys brow like rain. Blood began to pour from his left hand, and the Iron Throne was stained red.

"Maester! We need the maester!" Otto shouted. Grand Maester Mellos hurriedly approached.

"Lay the king down," Mellos barked, his voice still commanding despite his age. Daemon rushed to his brother's side, supporting Viserys head with his own body.

Viserys shakily removed his golden mask. The severe infection and disease had ravaged his once-robust form, leaving him gaunt and skeletal. One of his eyes was nearly blind, and half his face had rotted away.

"Gerardys, Gerardys! Bring the medicine!" Rhaenyra shouted as she rushed out of the throne room. The maester from Dragonstone, along with his apprentice, hurried towards her.

"Help my father," Rhaenyra grabbed the maester's arm, her face nearly contorted in anguish, and tears flowed uncontrollably from her red-rimmed eyes.

"Don't worry, Princess," Maester Gerardys reassured her before rushing into the throne room. Seeing that Gerardys had brought his apprentice, Grand Maester Mellos let out a sigh of relief. "Did you bring the healing salve? The one for iron injuries?"

"Your Queen, I need to get close to the king to treat him," Maester Gerardys whispered to Queen Alicent. Alicent, as if waking from a dream, stepped aside. Finally, Maester Gerardys reached the king, opened his medical kit, and pulled out a clean linen cloth and a jar of black ointment.

"How could the king have become like this?" Maester Gerardys asked, shocked by Viserys' frailty, but his hands never stopped as he swiftly applied the ointment to the linen cloth. Grand Maester Mellos took the cloth and motioned for the apprentice to boil wine.

"Once... or maybe more than once, there were deep, unhealable cuts," Grand Maester Mellos sighed. "Especially in the past two years. The king's wounds haven't fully healed for months. I've used every method, even using maggots to try to help, but nothing has worked."

Meanwhile, Rhaenyra took the boiling wine from the apprentice and handed it to Grand Maester Mellos. The old maester dipped the linen cloth into the wine, gently cleaning the king's wound.

"Grand Maester, if the king has a fever tonight, we may have to sever his fingers to save him," Gerardys said, glancing at the king's hand, already missing several fingers, and sighed.

"I understand," Grand Maester Mellos replied with a deep sigh. "This is the last resort."

After bandaging the king's wounds, Grand Maester Mellos said, "Everyone, the king needs rest. Our meeting today can end now."

Otto nodded expressionlessly and stood, bowing to Rhaenyra. "Princess, your appeal has been granted. You may..."

"This is also my home. My father is in this condition, and you want to send his daughter away?" Rhaenyra said angrily, pointing at Otto's nose and gritting her teeth.

"I wouldn't dare," Otto took a step back. "But it's really inconvenient for you to stay here." Several Kingsguard moved to lift the king, preparing to carry him out of the throne room.

"I want to see my father wake up with my own eyes!" Princess Rhaenyra threw down her words and lifted her skirts, chasing after them. Prince Daemon followed his wife, casting a meaningful glance at Otto before quickly walking towards Maegor's Holdfast.

Otto, somewhat dissatisfied, gave Queen Alicent a glance before slowly leaving the throne room.

"Little Jace, you must return to Dragon's Nest with us," Draezell sighed. He knew that it was cruel to separate the children from their grandfather at this time, but given the circumstances—Viserys was not in immediate danger, but the longer they stayed in King's Landing, the more likely something would go wrong.

"Alright." Jacaerys nodded. After following Draezell for so long, he had grown keenly aware of his knight's sharp instincts. Since Draezell had spoken, he knew that following his plan would avoid trouble.

"Brother, I saw Princess Helaena watching you earlier," Valar whispered as the four of them said their farewells to Rhaenys and hurried back to the courtyard. The children quickly mounted their dragons, and just as Draezell grabbed the rope ladder of Vermithor, Valar leaned in and whispered.

"She smells of fire," Draezell thought for a moment. "I suspect she's starting to dreamwalk again."

"Dreamwalk?" Valar asked, puzzled. "Do you mean she's like her ancestor Daenys Targaryen, a dreamwalker?"

"Didn't I tell you about this?"

Seeing Valar shake his head, Draezell realized he had probably forgotten to mention it. "Let's head back for now; we'll likely know the outcome tonight." Draezell climbed up the rope ladder and sat in Vermithor's saddle. With several long dragon roars, the four dragons took flight, leaving King's Landing behind.

Maegor's Holdfast, the rooms of Aegon and Helaena.

Aegon was still absent, leaving Helaena alone to care for the children in their cradle. The princess quietly sang a melody, one unknown to all, gently coaxing the children to sleep.

"Big Bear, Big Bear, your descendants restless." The princess's voice suddenly changed. "Dragon's blood, human's blood, black blood, green blood, red blood, black flames burning fiercely, silver flames burning fiercely."

Suddenly, it seemed as if the princess realized something. She looked at the children, and seeing that they were sound asleep, she finally felt at ease and lay back down on the bed.

This was once a double bed, but now only she used it. The flames in the fireplace roared, and the fire in the brazier blazed brightly, providing enough warmth for the room.

The princess quickly drifted off to sleep. However, this time, when Princess Helaena stood awake on the black water pool in her dream, she was no longer a small bird. The castle, soaked in a sea of blood, once again opened its gates to her. A silver dragon languidly soaked in the blood sea, gazing at Helaena with a look of pity.

"Uncle Draezell," Helaena politely lifted her skirt, but suddenly, she stepped back in terror.

The water pool in front of her reflected her image. The petite girl stared wide-eyed, her body covered in blood. She saw a silver-haired boy with hollow eyes, and a desperate girl flying through the sky.

They were her children. Helaena almost screamed, but the waves of either black or blood-red liquid surged forward and swallowed the girl in the blink of an eye.

Black flames burned, green flames burned. The red flames struggled to break free from the black flames, igniting the entire pool of water along with the silver flames.

The flames reflected a series of visions.

Beneath towering spires, a set of eyes slowly opened. Countless shadows passed through the waves of the Sunset Sea. The ancient Weirwood Tree flowed with blood, and faintly, a man with a large red birthmark on his face sat within, though his figure was hazy. Shadows surged through five massive city walls. The man raised a long sword, and light drove away the darkness.

Great dragons fought mid-air, and endless snowstorms swept across the land.

She saw a tall, thin man sitting upon a black throne, threads emanating from his hands. Under his command, trout played music, the sun and stars danced together, wolves and hawks performed as actors, lions beat drums, roses made toasts, stags and sea monsters blew horns, and dragons sat above them all, clapping joyfully.

She saw a one-eyed woman swinging a long sword, the great dragon flying over the boundless ocean, the blood-red grasslands, the divided crown, and the fusion and clash of ice and fire. Finally, she saw those blue eyes.

A sharp headache struck. Helaena tried to wake up, but she could not.

An unintelligible language came from the Weirwood Tree engulfed in flames: "Draezell, let us cooperate. Our goals are the same. Come to the Isle of Faces; someone will tell you everything."

The silver dragon responded in the same ancient language she couldn't understand. "The Old Gods?"

"I am not a god," the voice returned. "Or rather, there are no gods in this world. Draezell, time will reveal everything. Your arrival has changed the melody of the Song of Ice and Fire. We can no longer see the future's tune, but this is acceptable."

"Must you always contact me through this girl's dreams? Is the Weirwood Tree I planted in the garden just for show?"

"Your blood, your magic prevents us from visiting you." It was as if countless sharp voices were speaking at once. "We have no power south of the Neck!" The voice almost sounded as though it was about to cry.

"I will, primordial being." The silver dragon nodded with satisfaction. "I will visit you at the right time. I hope you will give me a satisfactory answer."

"We will!" The voice became cheerful again, but grew more and more ethereal.

Helaena then felt a sense of relief, but when she looked up, she found the silver dragon gazing at her with pity. "Go back."

A strong sensation of weightlessness overwhelmed her. Helaena suddenly sat up in bed, staring blankly at her children, who were sleeping soundly in their cradle.

Everything from the dream seemed to have fled her mind like a lightning strike.

She couldn't remember anything.

But the people of the South wouldn't care about what the princess had dreamed. What mattered to them was the war that was finally seeing the light of dawn.

The cornered House Yronwood finally launched a full-scale attack.