Making Father Proud
Helena returned to her room, grabbing a woolen cap before leaving the room as quickly as she had entered it… Moving through the halls, ignoring the gazes that lingered in her frame, and giving the various nobles that wandered the halls with their guards not a hint of attention all as she tied her hair up and hid it under her woolen cap.
With her mind violently churning her thoughts, Helena soon arrived at the Lower Yard, and stepped up to the first man she bearing Red and Gold, he stood amongst a small group of his fellows drenched in sweat lingering in the shade cast by the walls, when Helena approached everyone nearby turned their eyes to her figure. There were a very select few who were perceptive enough recognized the woman as the madlad who beat on a straw man for hours without rest, and even fewer who knew her by two names… 'Theo' and 'Helena', those that knew those names pulled their fellows aside, either wishing to not be pulled into whatever was about to happen, or intent on watching it unfold…
Helena stood there for a long moment, inspecting each of the men before her gaze settled on one as she stepped back, their whispers immediately filling her ears as she turned and stepped away.
Helena smiled at the crowd that was beginning to gather, as she spotted a familiar wrinkled face in the gathering crowd. Which only made her smile wider, as she practically twirled around, her still recovering vision blurring with the movement…
A challenge… To herself… To these Kingdoms… To the Lannisters… Helena swiped a wooden axe from nearby as her smile became increasingly toothy, carrying her beauty in a savage manner, as she stepped towards the Lannister Man—At—Arms and with a loud weighty clap, slapped him before all these people…
Her voice immediately followed, "Test your mettle" her axe was pulled from her waist as she lightly brought it into a fanciful flourish if only to bring a faint pause to her words, "Raise your blade and defend your honor, for your Lord won't do it for you."
"I won't brandish my sword against—"
"Then, you would have died," Helena slowly drew a line with her sword, a line that would have passed through his neck if not for the distance, and lack of strength to the purposely slow out of range attack.
The man furrowed his brows, "You are without—"
"You've died." Helena drew another line.
As the man's frustrations grew, Helena drew another line in his momentarily silence, "Dead."
He stepped forward with angered steps, and reached out to secure her weapon, but Helena stepped around his reach flipping the axe in her hand lightly tapping the flat end against his side, "Wounded."
"This isn't a game—"
"No, it isn't." Helena grappled his outstretched arm, and hook led it under his arm as her foot shifted and her weight—bearing leg crouched as her other leg stretched out, and the Knight fell to his back hitting the ground…
Helena looked down at him from above, "Dead."
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Theobald watched from the outskirts of the sizable crowd that had gathered, his gaze following the increasing number of Lannister men filtering into the Yard, before darting back to Helena to watch as she carefully tripped the poor lad she had decided to trouble. It wasn't exactly what he was expecting, but he was pleased to find that Helena hadn't broken under the pressure, and was indeed as cunning as he suspected she was…
He couldn't begin to wonder what she had planned for himself, for Robert, for the Throne. Truly, it was saddening that he most probably wouldn't live long enough to watch it all…
Perhaps he had grown in the woman, perhaps he feared for what she held in store for him… Was her plan to leave him to his own death, fearing her eventual retaliation that would never come…
Why was he fearing the woman…? When did he start fearing the woman…? Two questions he asked himself constantly since finding his time spent with the woman grew. Was it her dedication to the task she found in her hands, or was it that morbid understanding in her eyes.
Then he heard the first thud momentarily silence and gasp to the Yard, followed by angered shouts and Theobald knew the Pycelle would have quite the busy day ahead of him… Shouts followed, and a brawl ensued with Helena in the center of it, her axe no longer in her hands, as they flew, catching flesh, leather, chain mail, and metal alike. She continued to move, uncaring of the blows that impacted her frame, unmoved by the pain she continued forward, rarely ever taking a step back despite the blows she was taking…
Without any armor, she withholds the pain with sheer spite…? Will…? Anger…?
No, the look in her eye was that of fear. A fear so intent that it could only be of death… A fear that contradicted the smile upon her face…
This, is why Theobald feared this woman. As moments like these, where her whetstone. She always grew stronger, grew more skillful, and became more dangerous with every passing day… Despite splitting her focus so many different ways, and still having the strength of mind to continue in the monotony she had forged for herself. Though, was this something to be feared, rather than praised…?
Which brought him back to his two questions…
Then he heard it, the first true cry of pain, one that couldn't be stifled and brought pause to most of those who were locked into the brawl. Then came a second, though the silence allows a crisp crack to resound as a loud curse rang out…
Theobald shook his head, knowing that things would only grow more violent from here… Helena was in what he liked to call 'The Zone', so he quickly shifted through the crowd intent on putting a stop to this before it became anymore—
The sound of a sword leaving its sheath caught his ears, and his head snapped to the sound peering through the gaps of people he spotted the glint of steel—
"Fuck," Theobald cursed, yet he was incapable of stopping what came next…
"YOU ignorant WENCH!" That shouted was followed with a number of sword being pulled from their sheaths, as the crowd seemed to part revealing the number of men—at—arms bearing Red & Gold who encircled Helena…
Though, Theobald watched as Helena's body stiffened, and she momentarily cast her gaze to an empty piece of loose soil behind her, a look of anger, of fear… Her expression hardened, but the smile never left her face as her gaze settled back onto the man before her… Her hands held the axe tightly, so tight that it was beginning to shake in her grasp…
The man—at—arms was the first to move, and Helena caught his blade with the haft of her axe… Only for it to cleave through— A sharpened blade…
Though, Helena cast her broken weapon aside as the man—at—arms slash drew wide, narrowly missing her flank. As he moved to raise his blade, intent on cutting through her flesh with the sword's false edge, Helena caught his wrist before driving her off hand to his throat…
With a silent snarl, Helena squeezed before yanking back tearing flesh with her nails and revealing a mass of flesh in her hands, before she twirled around pulling a comb from her waist—
Theobald's was already moving, having sent someone to inform a Kingsguard, and managed to catch the moment Helena caught a sword with her comb… The wooden teeth broke, and as the man—at—arm pulled his sword back intent on trusting its point through the person who had torn out his fellow's throat. Helena flicked her comb, sending the upper half of the comb flying to the side revealing a straight edged blade…
"STOP!" Theobald yelled, bringing a pause to the man—at—arms but Helena moved unhindered as she lifted his wrist and dragged her blade agai his underarm… Luckily the man was wearing chainmail or he'd be forced to have his arm amputated, though it didn't save him as Helena flicked the comb—dagger in her hand, bringing a reverse stab into the side of his neck as Helena threw his gurgling corpse aside…
For the briefest of moments, Theobald's caught the look in her eye, and understood that she was intent on killing them all even if it brought her own death…
Was this her retaliation…? It was more akin to a child's tantrum, pointless and not without consequences…
Theobald's could already hear the heavy armored steps rushing this way, yet Helena had felled another Man—At—Arms, having dragged her dagger from his chin to his brow slipping his face for all to see—
"HALT IN THE NAME OF THE KING!" Ser Jamie Lannister was the first to arrive, and he shouted before he even turned the corner, though he froze upon catching sight in the yard… A splay of brunette hair, an arc of scarlet as another of his Lord Father's men—at—arms fell…
Helena showed no signs of stopping, as she took a sword across her back dying her tunic with blood as she smacked a blade away with her forearm, the sharpened blade digging into the meat of her arm but with the little more that a smiling grimace, Helena snapped around and buried her dagger into the man—who—cut—her—back's ear…
Only for the Kingslayer to tackle her to the ground, nearly failing to catch her wrist before she buried her blade into the meat of his neck… and as he stared down into those eyes, she found them streaming with tears, a smile staining her face as she softly spoke, "I did it… Father… I did it…"
Jamie couldn't help but look to his surroundings, finding a few men crumpled into the floor clutching the arms, yet his gaze locked onto those that spilled an unhealthy amount of blood onto the loose dirt that made up the Yard. All bearing the Red & Gold of his house… this woman had killed eight men with nothing more than a dagger more meant to shave faces than slit throats…
Helena stared up at the Kingsguard, her toothy smile bloodied, her voice tinged with exhaustion and pride, "I demand, a trial by combat."
(A/N: [~17?? Words] A considerably shorter chapter than what I've previously posted, but a chapter none the less… I'll try to have the next chapter finished by Wednesday at the latest. No STATS for this chapter as well, you'll find those (if your interested) in the next chapter.
Anyways, until next time,
- White_Dog