Chapter Text
Back to school
Helaena Targaryen stepped through the school gates quietly, blending into the crowd despite the way she stood out without trying. Her long, pale silver hair glowing with golden streaks in the sunlight, falling loosely down her back, untouched by the curling irons and products that most girls swore by.
Her skin was porcelain-pale, her doe-like blue eyes wide and innocent, she always seems a little lost in another world. She never wore makeup, not because she had anything against it, but because she simply didn’t care. That didn’t stop her from being one of the prettiest girls in school, though people would never admit it, even thought so.
Her brother often teased her for not being the “typical teenage girl,” but Helaena had never been one to follow the crowd. As the first bell rang, she sighed softly, bracing herself for another school year she wasn’t quite ready for.
The hallway buzzed with energy, friends reuniting, gossip spilling from lips painted with lipstick, lockers slamming open and shut in a familiar rhythm. Helaena moved through it all like a ghost, quiet and unreadable, clutching a brand-new notebook to her chest she bought for the new school year.
A few students turned to glance at her, some whispering behind hands or giving her that curious look she’d grown used to over the years. She wasn’t popular, not exactly, but people noticed her, maybe because of her last name, or maybe because there was something about her that was just… different.
Helaena’s beauty was different, it wasn’t strikingly beauty, I mean not physically, it was rather princess beauty, like her beauty was made for the olden days where men and women ruled. She has soft yet strikingly beauty. She would be praised with this such beauty if she showed it more, but instead she hid it and decided she didn’t even need to show it cause who would she express it for?
It was said that Targaryen’s ruled in the medieval era, and was once the most powerful house, yet now they were just a normal family, Helaena wasn’t even full Targaryen, her mother being Hightower and her father being Targaryen. She doesn’t know any relatives from her father’s side, only her mother’s. She doesn’t really get why she even has their father’s family name doubt that she’s ever seen him before.
She hasn’t met their father, I mean I guess it doesn’t count because she doesn’t remember how he looks like. He died when Daeron was born and she just never got to meet her Targaryen relatives. It was said that they were more Targaryens in this world, she just hasn’t met them.
Bell rings time for class!
She slid into her classroom, just to see how messy the room was, everybody talking so loud. Of course, it was always like that, first day of school. tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she picked the only seat that was available, by the window.
She looks outside at the swaying trees. Her thoughts wandered, as they always did, day-dreaming of strange places, unfamiliar skies, and whispers she couldn’t quite explain.
She’d always been that way, distant, a little odd. Her family called it being “in her own world.” Her mother worried. Her brother, Aegon, teased. “You could at least brush your hair properly,” he’d said that morning with a smirk,
“or wear something that doesn’t look like it came from a library donation bin.”
She’d just rolled her eyes and left the house with a slice of toast in her mouth.
Just as the classroom began to settle, reluctantly, noisily the door swung open again, and this time, it wasn’t the teacher anyone had been expecting.
“Who is that?”
“Shit he’s hot.”
Conversations paused mid-sentence, a few girls admiring him with wide eyes and whispered giggles, and all eyes shifted to the man standing in the doorway. They all looked happy to have such a good-looking classmate,
until he didn’t sit on any of the desks except the teacher’s desk, walking to the front of the room.
The whole room were shocked, he looked too young to be a teacher, like he belonged on the other side of the desk, yet there was something commanding about him that made it clear he wasn’t here to borrow a pencil.
He had dark, unruly curls, warm brown with hints of gold if the light caught them right, and a sharp jawline that didn’t need a single filter to look good. His features were striking, handsome in a way that made people look twice. He wasn’t that tall, but looked tall. He was broad-shouldered, and moved with the kind of ease that came from knowing exactly who he was.
Damn, these typa teachers aren’t so common especially in this high school—
He wore a black button down shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, and held a worn leather satchel slung over one shoulder. His name, written in clean white chalk on the board, confirmed what no one had expected.
Mr. Velaryon - History
He looked around to see all the shocked faces, not surprised at all as he was already well informed with his looks. He was used to this reaction. He always got it. His looks weren’t something he relied on, they were just something that happened to work in his favor.
Except, his eyes landed on one girl who hadn’t reacted at all.
She wasn’t even bothered at all, she looked like she didn’t even noticed the teacher came in, she was in her own world. She sat near the window, lost in whatever distant thoughts she’d been wrapped in before he walked in. No wide eyes, no awe-struck whispering, no forced posture. Just calm. Unbothered.
She was beautiful, though not in the way the others were. There was something quiet about her beauty, almost haunting. She didn’t try to draw attention, yet she was the first person you’d look at in a crowd. She had that kind of presence. Ethereal. Otherworldly. Her pale silver hair with golden streaks caught the light just enough to shimmer, falling loosely down her back like it hadn’t seen a straightener or curling iron in its life. Her skin was moon-pale, her features soft yet striking, and her wide blue eyes, though distant, held a kind of ancient depth. She looked like a dream caught in daylight.
She looked… Targaryen.
The realization hit him with a strange weight. The resemblance was crazy, like bloodlines traced in whispers. She looks just like his mother. Not in the literal sense, not exactly, but in the way Targaryens looked like each other. Like they were born from fire and prophecy. Like they didn’t belong in this world at all.
His jaw tightened just slightly. What the hell…? he thought, but masked it quickly with a casual half-smile as he finally spoke.
“Hey,” he called out, looking at this weird girl, voice steady but with a slight edge of curiosity.
Students all turned their faces at her.
Helaena blinked, her head turning slowly toward the front of the room. Her eyes met his, and for the first time, something flickered in her expression, confusion, maybe, or recognition she couldn’t place.
He looked attractive, very striking, physically, and mentally. With those dark curls coming with his dark eyes. As she met his eyes while everybody was staring at them, she felt uneasy, like there was something moving between her legs.
He was frozen too, until he finally straightened up, swallowing.
“you planning to join us today, or are the trees just that fascinating?”
A few students chuckled
“Sorry, Mr?” she said softly, voice light but clear.
“Velaryon” said deeply
“Sorry Mr Velaryon— Just thinking.”
Mr. Velaryon held her gaze for a moment longer, something unreadable passing through his own expression. It wasn’t irritation. It was interest. Like he’d just spotted something ancient in a modern world. He heard her soft voice, that definitely matches her face. He also felt something uneasy, licking his lips to restart his mind.
“Right,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. “Thinking’s allowed. Just try not to drift too far.”
That got another soft round of laughter from the class, but Helaena didn’t smile. She only nodded, then turned her gaze back toward the window, as if nothing had happened—like he hadn’t just called her out, like he hadn’t just looked at her the way he did.
Jacaerys forced himself to look away, returning to the board, scrawling out the syllabus in block letters just to busy his hands. But his mind wasn’t on the lesson. Not really.
She looked Targaryen.
Mother told him and he knows there are more Targaryen people in the world, he just hasn’t met his lost relatives yet, or until now, maybe he has.
The thought wouldn’t leave him alone.
And the worst part? He had a sinking feeling this school year was going to be anything but normal.
Jacaerys stole one more glance her way, careful not to be obvious. She was staring out at the trees again, chin resting on her hand, completely unaware of the effect she was having. Or maybe she wasn’t. Maybe she was aware, and just didn’t care.
He ran a hand through his curls and took a breath.
“Alright,” he said, turning back to face the class.
“Let me introduce to you all what my subject means.”
Pause, he turns to look at the board, then back to the crowd.
“History isn’t just about names and dates. It’s about power. It’s about blood. It’s about the stories people try to erase.”
His eyes flicked briefly toward Helaena again.
“It’s about who we really are.”
Some students were already bored, barely paying attention to the lesson, just paying attention to his face. she wasn’t, her gaze slowly shifted back to him not curious, not impressed, just quiet. Watching.
And something passed between them again. Unspoken. Ancient. Electric.
He cleared his throat, breaking the moment before it could stretch any further. “Open your notebooks,” he said, voice sharper now, firmer. “Let’s begin.”
And just like that, the lesson started.
But neither of them could shake the feeling that something had already begun.
Jacaerys thought she wasn’t even bothered by his presence, like she didn’t care at all. She hadn’t reacted like the other girls, hadn’t whispered to her friends, hadn’t leaned forward with wide, curious eyes. If anything, she looked like she wanted to be anywhere else. Distant. Unimpressed. Unaffected.
But he couldn’t have been more wrong.
Helaena was very much aware of him. The moment they shared eyes together, the moment he called her while daydreaming, while everybody was staring at them staring at each other, something inside her had shifted, subtly, but undeniably.
She wasn’t used to feeling… whatever this was. She couldn’t even name it. It wasn’t just that he was attractive, though he was, painfully so. It was the way he moved, the way he spoke, the weight in his voice like he carried stories older than the textbooks on his desk.
His presence was magnetic, and it unlocked something in her. He looked so fit.
And.. he was Velaryon. Weren’t Velaryon and Targaryen kind of similar? Like both has the blood of old Valyria? He didn’t really look Velaryon though, as she read in a book once that Velaryon people had silver hair like Targaryen people, and mostly the same features. But he had dark curls, and warm glimmering amber eyes, with a glowing medium skin tone.
She didn’t know how to express that kind of interest, not like the other girls did. She wasn’t going to giggle or twirl her hair or stare openly. So instead, she did what she always did when she didn’t understand something, she shut down. She pretended not to care. She stayed cold and quiet, watching him from the corner of her eye like a secret she wasn’t sure she was allowed to want.
It’s not right, she told herself. He’s your teacher.
But it didn’t stop the thoughts. The heat. The pull. The way her stomach twisted when their eyes met.
first day of school and she’s already feeling a thing.
She turned back to her notebook, pen tapping slowly against the paper, trying to anchor herself, but she could still feel his eyes on her, like a warmth that wouldn’t go away.
.. an hour later of history class.
The bell rings.
The bell rang, shrill and sudden, cutting through the classroom like a blade. Chairs scraped against the floor, papers rustled, and the usual chaos of students spilling into the hallway began. Helaena was gathering her things in quiet relief when a voice interrupted her.
Hey, Miss Daydreamer,” Mr. Velaryon called from the front of the room, his tone light but purposeful. “What’s your name?”
She froze, hand hovering over her notebook. For a second, she thought maybe he was talking to someone else, wanted him to be talking to someone else. But when she looked up, his dark eyes were already on her. Focused. Amused. Curious.
“Im sorry?”
The classroom was mostly empty now, but a few students lingered, watching with raised eyebrows and not-so-subtle smirks.
“I said what’s your name?”
He repeated with a deeper, sarcastic voice.
“Helaena,” she said, her voice steady, though her pulse was doing backflips. “Helaena Targ—” She stopped herself, blinking once. “Hightower.”
Mr. Velaryon tilted his head slightly, something flickering in his expression, barely there, gone in a blink. But she caught it. Recognition. Maybe even something like surprise.
“Hightower,” he repeated slowly, as if the name tasted strange in his mouth. “Got it.”
Then he smiled, just a small one, crooked and almost too casual, and turned back to the board like it was nothing. Like he hadn’t just made her stomach twist with one look.
But her mind was spinning.
As she just was gonna calm her mind down, getting out of his classroom, a voice disrupts her again, this time one of these popular girls who’s she’s never even talked to before.
“So… what’s the deal between you and Mr. Velaryon?”
Sofia’s tone was teasing, but her eyes sparkled with curiosity, and not just hers. Her friends had all turned around too, like a pack of cats ready to pounce on gossip. Helaena immediately regretted even acknowledging her yesterday.
“What?” Helaena blinked, her expression flat. “There’s nothing going on.” Her brows furrowed slightly, trying to look confused, even though her heartbeat stuttered just for a second.
“Just kidding! First day of school and still can’t take a joke Targaryen?”
Sofia leaned in, resting her chin on her palm, her voice dreamy. “Well, isn’t he just so hot, so dreamy…” She let out a theatrical sigh, like she was in the middle of a teen romance movie. “He could totally be a model if he wanted to, he’s likee probably so muscularr, soo yummyy looking.” Sofia and her minions said and agreed without any shame.
I mean they weren’t wrong.
This new teacher wasn’t just good-looking, he’s like a kind of man that looked designed. Like he’d been crafted by ancient gods with a sense of drama and style. Everything about him was dreamy. Even the way he stood still seemed deliberate. He didn’t belong here, among broken lights and cracked tile floors.
Helaena didn’t like listening to these girls thirsting over him though, it kinda disgusted her as well. It was just the first day, first period and all of a sudden he got the whole school’s hearts, wondering how disgusting that is for him.