{Title Here}

Helena crouched next to a thin tree, one of the many in the large courtyard, a rock in her hands as she doubted asking for a weapon would bring any hood favor, having long beaten the bark from the tree and working into its trunk when a figure appeared behind her…

Helena's weighty blows came to a halt, and she turned to look up at the figure, silence stretched for a few moments before Inu flickered away, and the figure looked down at her and spoke in broken Westerosi, "Come."

Helena eyed the man, who most definitely knew that she knew that exact word and context in their language, the man attempted to play the game she had been forced to learn…

A sigh tore through her lips as she lamented the loss of her how ever, many hours this would take, she clapped her hands to knock the dust and dirt from them, Helena rose to her feet and gestured to the man to lead the way…

Only for him to attempt to grab her, an attempt that was beaten aside as she sent him a sharp glare. After a long moment she offered her hand, and the figure gently wrapped her fingers in theirs—

The world around them blurred, and Helena's stomach churned. 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hizuren watched as Helena entered the room; slightly pale but fine, her gaze briefly washing across the walls, lingering near the number of anbu who filled them, before her gaze eventually settled on Shikaku, and frown appeared on her face under his lazing, yet inquisitive gaze.

"Welcome," Hizuren started off slow, not bothering to even attempt butchering the Teen's name, "I have called you here in hopes that you'll tell us your story."

It took Helena a long moment to mull over his words, as she settled into the seat across from Hizuren, while Inochi chose this time to supplement, "We are only asking to better learn how to accommodate you…"

Not a complete lie, but one that had those cool blue eyes settling on Inochi, "Game…?"

Helena seemed almost amused as that word slipped from her tongue and Hizuren was moderately confused at the context, but kept his expression level as Helena shifted her gaze back to him, "I was Queen of Seven Kingdoms. Mother of three brilliant children… You ask my story…? Of how I was torn away from them…?!"

Anger seeped into her calm tone, causing it to gain a chilled edge as she leant forward, but conflict seemed to flash in her expression became solemn, her eye's reflecting a morbid understanding, "I doubt I could return… It seems {Impossible}," Her inclusion on Westerosi stumped a few for a few moments yet the context helped to infer its meaning.

"You were a Queen, a Mother…?" Hizuren didn't withhold the doubt in his eyes, and Helena nearly snarled. How dare this old man—

A breath slipped her lips, "I was older before coming to this place, whatever brought me here, changed me when they did…"

Silence was all that followed for a short while, before Inochi spoke, "Would you allow me into your mind?"

Helena's gaze snapped to the man, and for the briefest of moments he saw his death reflect in her eyes as they narrowed, "{Is that what that was…}" Helena's gaze lingered for a long moment before she nodded, "Fine."

Inochi gave a soft smile, and began to make shapes with his hands, in a manner similar to Brandon, before forming a square and Helena felt her 'self' retreat into that familiar white space…

Inochi, once more found himself in that oppressive space, though this time alongside the weight of a powerful mind, the young teen stood within the white space of her mind…

A flick of her hand allowed color and shape deep into the space, and with a torrent of experience and memory the space changed and before him was no longer a teen, but a beautiful woman… Laid atop her brow was a golden circlet, as a dress of a design Inochi never knew tightly wrapped around her frame leaving little to the imagination.

"So… This is my mind," Her words, her voice echoed through the space twisting and turning the bland surroundings into suffocating walls of gray stone, a distant pitter patter of footfalls filling the hallway as she began to walk. Inochi silently fell behind, knowing that this was by no means the depths of the woman's mind, and that he was still within its outer reaches…

To have such control of her mind, to conjure constructs this far from the core…? Inochi found himself with a newfound respect for the woman/teen, such a level of control and strength wasn't someone one was born with…

Like a gentle stream, the woman moved through the halls, different memories drifting into the space and playing upon the halls, allowing Inochi a novel expletive as he watched Helena in her first brawl—

The memory was whisked away replaced by an old man, a smile upon his face—

Another whisked away, the image of a bloodied child, a hand pierced by an arrow—

The birth of her second child, and the third that came hours later—

A duel with an large man twice her size—

Then it all washed away, as the woman turned back to him, her cold blue eyes lingering upon his frame, her voice shaking him from thought, "Have you seen enough…?"

Inochi nodded, the emotions that were held within those memories far too strong to fabricate, the manner in which they revealed themselves upon his mind…

He felt himself feeling sorry for the woman before him… To be torn from his family and whisked away to a land he never knew… It'd be terrifying…

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The following talks were productive, and were what had led Helena to the small one bedroom home that occupied one section of the second floor of a large building…

As she laid in her bed, playing with one of the dull iron coins she had been given… Ryō, it was smaller that a Silver Stag, but larger than a Copper Hare…

A sigh tore her lips—Helena found her surroundings fading away once more as a darkness veiled over her eyes, and the Great Fire within palpated casting away the darkness that threatened to consume her and Helena's eyes widened as she rolled to the side avoiding the fall of an odd—shaped dagger. 

A porcelain mask, one bare of any signifying shapes or colors, a difference from those masked figures that normally lingered, Helena's hand shot out hoping to take advantage of the fact that the figure had overextended in his overconfidence.

Her fingers brushed against the figure's fingers as he swiftly pulled back, a lull in combat brought upon by shattered expectation, but it didn't last long as the figure lurched forward in an attempt to close the distance, his figure blurring and fading from Helena's vision…

Helena rolled forward onto her knees, and thrust out her palm as she saw the glint of steel, the blade piercing through her hand allowing Helena to grasp the figure's hand… Despite the blood leaking down her arm from her wound, her fingers clawed into the figure's gloved hand and Helena pulled the figure towards her in an attempt to distrust his balance but the figure followed along, closing the distance quicker than Helena had expected their palm plowing into her stomach sending spittle from her lips and a snarl surfaced from her throat at the sharp pain that assaulted her…

The figure stumbled as she didn't release his hand stumbling onto her bed….

Locking the wrist of the offending palm, Helena gave it a violent twist as she pulled it out to the side, slamming her head into the porcelain mask. Uncaring of the pain that bloomed in her head, and the wet warmth that trailed down her face as the mask cracked, split in two…

Helena spit, clouding the man's eyes as she used her hands to pull him close once more, this time her teeth sinking into the man's neck…

She tore a chunk of flesh with a violent yank of her head, blood splattered the surroundings, squirting high into the air as the man began to sputter, choking on his own blood.

Helena spit the flesh from her mouth, and drove her knee into the man's groin sending him to the ground as she released him… Taking a handful of moss she kept on hand, as it had quite the interesting taste, Helena crammed it into the wound, slowing the blood flow enough for the man to continue to live through her beating, as she gripped the back of his head, and drove her knee into his face…

Over…and Over again… Until naught was left but a mangled mushy mess, a pained wheeze slipping past his lips as Helena stared down at him from above…

The man's blood stained her bed and floor, his wheezes only furthered Helena's frustrations, as grabbed his dagger, and begun to peel skin from flesh and would continue until his life came to a close, allowing herself to vent her frustrations in such a manner…

Unaware of the animal—masked figure who had arrived at the tail end of the combat, and retreated just as quickly…