Mother…
A clash of steel resounded as the Queen held her child; who joyfully clapped and laughed at the melee below… It was odd that the child was still without a name, and when paired with the fact that the child never leaves his mother's grasp, Jon Arryn began to worry if the youth would end up weak and coddled with not a bold bone in his body…
Though, the Queen was perhaps the one most dangerous and bold individuals in the castle. Mostly due to the fact that she had felled The Mountain during her trial, a truth that had been horridly embellished as it spread through the Seven Kingdom. The body had been shipped off to Dorne to quell any rebellious thoughts, and Lord Arryn had begun to open up marriage talks to further quell the nearly guaranteed rebellion from the Far South. With a promise of marriage that hadn't been fulfilled for decades; Dorne had perhaps the biggest claim to have their blood mixed into the Royal Line. Not that such talks were done publicly, as Tradition had it that the Mother was inconsequential when it come to Marriage. Their opinion was weighty, but still just an opinion.
Though, had Robert known what his hand was doing; as his focus had been on working with a certain mockingbird about recuperating the stability of the economy as they fully shifted from War—Focus towards one of hopeful peace, he would give Jon a heavy talking too… As Robert knew that his Queen would rather kill the man, than allow him to marry off their child. It wasn't like Helena feared the consequences, she had proven that when The Mountain fell at her hands.
The woman was fearsome, and the rumors circling her did well to shy away most attempts at seducing the King. None wished to earn the Ire of a Queen who was just as well with a weapon, as she was with a needle, and the fact that she had birthed an Heir had mostly solidified her status as the Queen. There were still many of those who voiced displeasure within their circles, but none did so openly as they once had. Even those voices weren't overly terrible, and it was quite obvious none dared to challenge the woman openly as despite the Queen's rather lacking background, it was heavily laden with stories that, while embellished, spoke of the hints of the truth during her time as 'Theo'.
A story that Jon had looked into a long while ago, when whispers of a Riverlands Girl reached his ears through Robert. From that story, Jon saw the beginnings of a Warrior Queen rising once again, and all he would have to do is make sure the Queen remained in the castle as he allowed the stories to embellish. Perhaps have her be seen in armor a handful of times, and have a few similar bodied mercenaries cull some bandits among some knights to further such stories.
It would all be a meticulously sewn lie, but one the common folk would believe, the Nobles could be swayed with Gold, Land, and Titles, perhaps even a few good natured words from the King…
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Ser Barristan's helm hid his smile as he watched the Queen worry over the Crown Prince, it was almost difficult to believe the cold and dangerous woman he had watched pummel Ser Jamie and fell The Mountain with cunning brawn was the very same woman who sat before him now. It warmed his heart to see life bloom within the castle once more, to see true smiles instead of those hiding scowls, fear, and despair…
If only he hadn't been so blind in his duties. Perhaps he could have taken the burden from the young Lannister's shoulders. A good youth he was, but burdened by many things, manipulated by those he saw as family to become something family should never be…
Cersei had turned such a burdened man into her tool, and while he held thoughts of his own they seemed to fade in her presence, his reactions slowed when thoughts of the Gilded Flower found his mind. Yet, Ser Barristan had hope, that one day Ser Jamie would see the folly of his ways, and take his blessings with a sword seriously. With the whole of his mind and body, as the Queen had once done with her fists.
The Queen was talented, such a thing couldn't be denied, Ser Barristan wasn't ashamed to admit that he looked forward to the Young Prince's future, as he saw a true warrior in those dark brown eyes. Oh, how he was truly His Majesty's son, such a thing couldn't be denied when one looked at those dark eyes, strong angular features; if one could look past the baby fat, though the youth carried Her Majesty's wavy hair the resemblance to the King couldn't be ignored.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Little Finger eyed the reclusive Queen from the edge of his vision making it seem as if his interest was on the melee below. His heart thrummed in his chest as he found that the only thing she was lacking was a red tint to her hair…
She bore such a resemblance to the woman he loved…
A sigh tore through his lips as his focus shifted to catch the final participants of the Melee clash… It seemed he had placed his bets wrongly as Ser Jamie lost the first clash to a flaming sword, something that had grown dull and dim through the length of the Melee and was nearly snuffed out during the clash as the vagrant reeled his sword back—
Little Finger's interest was lost as his gaze found the Queen once more, only for her gaze to catch his and a scowl wash across her visage— He panicked as she stood up, cupping the child against her bosom and only then did he realize her gaze was cast beyond him…
Ser Barristan moved his shield falling over the Queen as his fellow practically leapt on to the King guarding Robert with his steel plated body. Yet, Helena had moved first, her hand stretching outward just before the shield washed over her body, a splash of blood before a ping metal…
The woman had caught an arrow…
The Mockingbird couldn't believe his eyes, as the Queen broke the arrow in two by flexing her hand.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.--.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
THEY DARED TO TRY AND—I'LL MURDER THEIR—UNDESERVING OF LIFE—LOWER BEINGS—Helena's mind was exploding with wrathful thoughts, as she stood within the Royal Stands of the Tourney Grounds within the Dragon's Pit to the Kingswood, her eyes locked onto the damnable hooded figure who dropped their bow and tried to snake their way through the panicked crowd. Her hand clutched HER CHILD WHO THEY DARED—
His ear piercing whines rent Helena's heart in a pain that she never knew, one that only fueled the wrathful curses filling her mind as she swore that should she ever lay hands upon whomever had launched that arrow—
Helena couldn't even finish her own thought as she internally fumed, rooted in place by a fury beyond anything her mind could comprehend, as Robert roared sharing in her fury as he lifted his Warhammer and began to bark out orders to secure the surroundings. Helena turned and sent the man a cold glare, and his voice fell quiet at the unbridled fury strewn across her face, marring it with a grotesque expression that couldn't be softened by her beauty…
For the briefest of moments his rage was quelled as he found himself cowered, but immediately a sneer fell across his face as that realization washed over him…
Had he truly been cowered by his wife…?
Robert NEEDED something to pulp as his warhammer felt weighty in his hands… This Stag will NOT Cower!
Yet, Robert was the one to retreat, as Helena had no intent to move from where she stood, HER child—THOSE WRETCHED—clutched in her arms hidden behind Ser Barristan's shield, seemingly challenging the masses to attempt such a thing again. Yet, for the first time, Robert found fear in her gaze.
For a long while Helena didn't move, and her anger slowly bled from her mind causing the stiffness to drain from her body, and with it she nearly fell slack if not for having repeatedly experienced such a thing after a number of sleepless nights Helena wouldn't have caught herself before Ser Barristan could even make a move to help, causing the Wizened Knight to stick his hand out on naught but reflex only for his mind to process that such an assistance had been unneeded, despite being a necessary measure.
Helena heaved a sharp breath, gathering herself in that moment before turning to the Knight and sending him a light nod, "I will remember this… Thank you, o' wise knight."
Ser Barristan stifled a chuckle, and gave a respectful bow, but Helena didn't hear his words as she felt a rumble than a warmth against her hand and before HER imperfectly perfect child could even begin to cry wasting the precious tears within his brilliant eyes her focus was stolen away, and Ser Barristan stood guard with a pleasant smile hidden away under his helm.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
[Approx~ One Moon Later | 4th Moon | 283 A.C]
Within one of the Royal chambers emptied of furniture, aside from a weapons rack on one side of the wall and a length of chainmail hanging from the ceiling dividing a section of the room where a fortress was built from a large assortment of pillows, blankets, and bedspreads, quite literally dominating half of the room.
As Ser Barristan; who had a change in his normal shift three quarters of a moon ago, and is the Queen's guard during the day, stood opposite the chainmail from Helena as a wooden axe cleaved through the air, in an instant— Ser Barristan's pupils narrowed as the Princling; not that he'd ever say such a thing aloud, pulled himself up with a sturdy pillow, "His first steps!"
Helena threw her axe, causing it to clatter against the weapon rack as she dipped under the chainmail, catching the very moment HER little boy took a wobbly step before he stumbled…
They let him fall…
It hurt… It hurt Helena so… so much…
Yet, failure is where greatness is borne, and with her darling boy surrounded by vast swathes of softness, she could just barely withhold herself…
Didn't stop Helena from glaring at Ser Barristan for yelling so loudly… What if her precious babe's ears were hurt…?!
Ser Barristan could only smile, feeling the warmth of the atmosphere despite the illusion of coldness in Helena's eyes. She seemed to even have herself fooled, or perhaps it was simply that her thoughts were far too easy to read. Too many don't look past that cold expression that seemingly promises endless violence, thus never see the boundless warmth hidden beneath.
Perhaps, that coldness is birthed from that boundless warmth, and vicious exterior to keep others from corrupting that warmth…
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
[7 Moons & ~ 2 Weeks Later | 1st Moon | 284 A.C]
Helena dealt savage blows to a straw man as she mercilessly tore the straw from the figure and the flesh from her knuckles, pounded her forearms and shredded her elbows. Hoping to reforge the callous that had begun to fade, she cast a glance to the side and found HER child watching with starry eyes leant up against the thin chainmail, and her motivation burned with renewed vigor as her blows gained an audible weight to their impacts, her breaths shape in turn with her movements as her figure seemed to snap into different positions seamlessly… Though, to Ser Barristan's eyes, there was still much to learn. Perhaps he wasn't the best brawler, but he had plenty of experience to weigh her form against… Though he could only commend her commitment, as he doubted any of the Kingsguard aside from himself and Ser Jamie would be capable of keeping up with Her Majesty's borderline torturous training regimen…
For the briefest of moments, the widened knight lost himself in a shadow of time past…
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
[2 Moon Later | 3rd Moon | 284 A.C.]
Helena sat by a window of Myrish glass, with HER child in her lap as she soft read from a compendium of wildlife in the Crownlands. This would be the second kingdom they have gone through, both having been HER child. The one before had been of the Riverlands, and it was much thinner in comparison,
"Seagulls… They don't taste good," having added her personal opinion, she continued to read through the compendium until HER child deemed it was time for his nap. Gently she closed the book, and left the library to lay him to rest.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
[2 Years & 6 Moons Later | 9th Moon | 286 A.C.]
Helena wrapped her body around a bright—eyed youth, as they rested within a clearing of trees inside the Crownlands, she spoke in a warm tone as HER child adorably tried to whistle a tune with a blade of grass, "Have you thought of a name yet, my child?"
The youth giggled—laughed as his Mother followed her words with a short hummed tune, one that conveyed something the child couldn't understand, yet brought comfort all the same, "No."
"Okay," Helena picked up her humming once more, slowly swaying her body rocking the child she hugged from behind, only to release her hug and lean back into her palms as HER brilliant, and handsome boy rose off of her thighs and seeked for a different blade of grass to be picked. Helena gazed at the surroundings with a sharp eye, spotting hints of dull steel circling. Giving out a short whistle, Helena listened as 23 different bird calls echoed through the trees, and with a faint nod her gaze returned to HER child who was smiling curiously as he pulled something from the grass.
A broken blade, one aged by rust— Helena moved with smooth stride, in hopes of not startling HER child while also training his mind to remain aware as she crouched down and lowered her head next to his gently resting her chin upon his shoulder… By the pout upon his face, it seems he may be afflicted with the same habit as herself—HER child was imperfectly perfect. Perfection was a curse that Helena wouldn't wish upon her child…
Taking the blade from HER child, she spent the time patiently explaining the dangers of rusted metal, and the poison it was, before going into the proper methods of handling a blade with a stick she had stolen from a tree. Knowing that HER child would be curious, and hoping this would lead to a safer method of learning than sneaking behind her back, as her Father had done to her Grandparents.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
[2 Years & 2 Moons Later | 11th Moon | 288 A.C.]
Whispers of War and Rebellion flitted through the castle, growing with every passing whisper as words of Ironborn Raid grew…
As for Helena, she was currently watching HER child as he worked a single edged dagger against a whetstone, slowly working the flaws from the aged blade. With a hawkish gaze, Helena made sure that his grip was correctly laid upon the handle and there flat of the blade, that the angle was correct to hone a sharp edge, and that HER child remained safe and uncut… Only for his voice to shatter her concentration, as the youth carefully settled the blade on a strip of leather, "Mother…?"
"Hmm~ Yes, my dear?" Helena started with a soft hum, as she took a finger to shift the hair from her handsome boy's face.
Despite the embarrassment of having his mother fuss over him, the youth locked eyes with Helena, "Why have you stopped asking me—?"
"—If you've found a name?" Helena lightly poked HER child's forehead, causing his head to bob backwards as his posture unsettled, seeing the pout upon his face Helena retracted her hand, a soft, "Sorry," leaving her lips before she continued, "I no longer need to ask, you'll let me know when you found a name you like, one that calls out to you and feels proper, and I don't wish to rush your decision."
The youth fell silent as he tried to process his Mother's words, testing them silently upon his tongue only to be interrupted as a rapping of knocks resounded against the door. Having long remembered this sequence of knocks, and the loudness they produced, the Youth hurriedly ran to the door unaware of the Mother silently stalking behind with a half—sharpened dagger ready, "Lord Father," the Youth spoke as he opened the door adding a bow to finish his words.
Robert gave a boisterous chuckle as he ruffled the youth's medium—length wavy hair, making a mess of it that Helena would most definitely preen later, "Oho, my boy, already learning etiquette it seems."
Then, as if coming to slay the momentarily silenced, the youth nearly shouted a name, "Sullivan!"
Helena's eyes widened, as a motherly smile came to her face before she crouched down next to the bow turning his head so that she may stare into his eyes, "Is this the name you have chosen? Sullivan Baratheon?"
The youth bobbed his head, and went on to excitedly explain, "Yes! It's like the name of a Knight from Dorne that I had read about, who married a woman in the Stormlands—"
"You've allowed him to read the 'Epithet of the Sand'?" Theobald's eyes bulged, and Helena sent him a warning glare causing him to fall silent as Sullivan continued…
"—but it's also like Ivan! The Warrior of the North who was sentenced to a life at The Wall for killing dozens of his fellow villagers after they—"
"Tied him up and burnt his wife, having accused her of witchcraft…" Theobald added for the youth, earning himself a sharper glare from the youth's mother for daring to interrupt her darling boy, "Truly, you've chosen two very dark stories to create your name from—"
"Yes!" Sullivan bounced with a bright energetic smile, "Mother said that names are not beholden…?" He cast a glance to his Mother to find her nodding at his choice of the word, and he continued, "To the actions of those who held them in the past…"
Though, Sullivan would never admit in front of his Mother that he had chosen this name… because it sounded cool…
Thus, Sullivan Baratheon was born, and the Crown Prince had a name that all could know…
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
[1 Moon Later | 12th Moon | 288 A.C.]
"Robert. If you must leave for war then do so, you need not ask my permission," Helena spoke simply as she helped the most handsome youth of the Seven Kingdoms forge his first work of metal. A simple medallion born from copper, but her darling boys handiwork all the same.
'I wasn't, and why does it sound as if you're mad,' Robert couldn't help but ask himself internally, before his voice left his lips, "I thought it best if Ser Barristan and the Kingslayer remained behind, and with Lord Arryn managing the Kingdoms in my stead—"
"Ah, speaking of Lord Arryn," Theobald spoke, his eyes never leaving Sullivan's hands as the youth lifted a small hammer, "He seems to have taken upon himself to initiate talks of marriage—"
Before the old maester could even finish, Helena growled her hand reaching for a length of steel that was to be forged into a shaft of some sort, "I'll kill him…"
"Mother?" Though her expression quickly softened as Sullivan raised his head to meet his mother's gaze, "It isn't nice to threaten people."
Helena's heart took nearly fatal damage at the seriousness of her handsome boy's words, and for the briefest of moments she nearly forgot what Theobald had said, only for it to resurface as Robert asked through ground teeth, "To who…?!"
"Prince Doran's daughter, Laenah Martell…"
Helena fumed, but kept her curses to herself as her baby boy was still present…
Though in an act of maturity, Sullivan spoke, "Mother…? Can I meet her…?"
Never before had Helena's anger been swept away and morphed into lovable doting, "Of course my darling boy, whatever you wish. Your Mother shall make it true…"
"Really?!" His eyes went wide, "Then can you help me forge a sword?!"
"If that's what you want, then who am I to refuse my handsome boy," Helena gently poked his nose, causing Sullivan to pout but, there was no doubt he was looking forward towards forging his first blade, "Though, you'll have to finish forging this medallion first. For a blacksmith never leaves their work unfinished."
"Yes mother…"
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
[2 Moons Later | 2nd Moon | 289 A.C.]
Little Sully raised his hammer, as his Mother watched from the side as he amateurly beat a bevel down the length of a rough bronze sword. Having graduated from working with copper nearly a moon ago, after having made a copper dagger under his Mother's instruction. The very same dagger she kept lashed to her waist, much like the polished medallion she wore around her neck.
Mother had said that when he finished this sword, she'll begin his martial training in earnest with the very blade he forged. Sullivan could barely contain his excitement, especially when he heard word that their Dornish Guests were set to arrive come nightfall… Mother wasn't happy about the idea of Sullivan getting married, and while he didn't know the depths of the meaning of such a word… He was excited about having another one near his age in the castle, as those that were close to him in age were among those Mother had forbidden from getting close to him…
Sullivan didn't understand why, but knew that Mother only wanted him to be safe and happy! She always stopped working when he wanted to play, and was happier than ever when he asked her to read him a story…
Perhaps he didn't know the words that filled his thoughts, but Sullivan was smart! Old Wrinkly Maester even said so! Though, the sweet smelling Maester who always tried to give him sweets when Mother was sleeping, always said that Mother was smothering Sullivan.
Mother's cuddles were the BEST! Any who dared say different—
"Sully, your focus is waning. Keep your hammer level."
"Yes mother!" See! Mother knows all!
It hadn't taken long for the final poundings of iron to come to a close, and for Mother to begin raising the heat of the forge so that the sword could be quenched—
Sullivan quickly ran his mind through his Mother's teachings, reminding himself that quenching the metal was the most important part of all weaponsmithing…
Yet, before Sullivan could quench his sword, a Men—At—Arms came running, speaking a few words to Mother who heaved a sigh at the end of his words. Her worry filled, yet loving eyes landed on Sullivan causing a smile to bloom across his face softening her worries and expression. Sullivan felt warm as Mother crouched down, "It seems you'll have to finish another time my darling boy… Your guests are soon to arrive, and we need to get all this soot off of you."
A pout almost formed on his face at the thought of leaving the sword unfinished for another day, but partly understood that he couldn't show himself so dirtied in front of Noble Guests and took his Mother's hand as she lead him through the inner bailey and back into the Castle Proper.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
[Elsewhere]
Evelyn Martell looked out the window of the carriage, watching the common folk who lined the sides of the streets, with the sun beginning to fall over the horizon the streets of Kingslanding was ridden with long shadows. Her gaze shifted towards her daughter, who couldn't stop her nerves from showing on her face as she picked at her fingers, catching her mother's gaze. Laenah shifted uncomfortably in her dress, "Mother… Is the Queen truly as terrifying as they say…?"
"They fear her because she goes against what they know… You've heard the stories just as I have, that the Queen is a Blacksmith, a Tailor, a Warrior, and even the apprentice of a Maester. She rose from a small village in the Riverlands as a bastard, to the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. There is much to fear from such a woman. Especially when one remembers that she had been the one to kill The Mountain in single combat. Remember, Laenah, that is the woman we are to meet… One wields their own blade, instead of calling upon them. Remember her Royal Status, but understand that you would be sitting before a Warrior, keep your wits about you and a steady mind. Think of this as meeting a female Oberyn if you wish, though I believe our Queen will be much less vulgar than your uncle."
"I—Okay…"
"Laenah, I understand that you don't wish to marry, but perhaps you will take a liking to the boy… There are rumors that he his overly coddled by the Queen, perhaps you will find that you like them soft spoken unlike your uncle's vulgarity that has clouded your ears so," Lightly brushing Laenah's hair as she pulled the girl's head into her lap, Evelyn continued, "I didn't wish to be married of as I had either, but I found love at the end of my journey. I'll pray that you'll find the same."
Laenah gave out a soft murmur, as Evelyn began to softly whistle a tune…
It hadn't taken long for the carriage to slow to a stop, and the door open to reveal the Hand of the King, stood at the base of the stairs leading up to the large metal plated doors that would lead into the throne room, though Lord Arryn had a difficult expression and looked a bit pale as he gave a gentle bow, "Welcome to the Red Keep, the Queen is awaiting your presence inside."
Evelyn gave a curtsy in response, as the two exchanged a few pleasantries, with Laenah soon joining before Lord Arryn lead them through the large doors into a large atrium they were lead through a small door and down a number of long halls, eventually coming to rest in front of a door though as they drew close, Lord Arryn broke the silence, "I apologize in advance for any inappropriate display and lack of decorum, the Queen does not see reason in my words."
'Wonderful…' Evelyn mused, an unfamiliar sensation gripping her stomach as Lord Arryn knocked, and old Kingsguard; who could only be Ser Barristan, opened the door, revealing the room it once hid…
A large room, with a wall of linked chains, as they were ushered in, Laenah's eyes widened as she saw a brown haired youth in clothes reminiscent of those the common folk wear, with the only difference being the cleanliness and the quality of cloth. He wielded a stick like any other, and was holding it out in front of himself in the most basic of forms. Though, from the sweat upon his brow it seemed the youth had been in such a position for a while…
As for Evelyn she found herself frozen stiff as a breath washed over her neck, "Don't resist."
The woman wasn't asking, as two hands fluffed her dress, and ran across her figure in a manner that would have a lesser woman writhe… It came to an end as quickly as it started, and the voice came once more this time pulling the attention of Laenah, who nearly flinched as she saw the woman, "You wouldn't be such a terrible mother, that you would hide weapons on your daughter… Would you, Lady Martell?"
"No…" Evelyn barely managed to squeeze the words from her lips, and with it an unseen weight seemed to lift from her shoulders as the dagger that had been pressed against her side; hidden from Laenah, was pulled away as the woman… The Queen stepped out from behind, and into the room and she seemed to dominate the surroundings.
See Jamie Lannister who had been gently poking the youth's body on a few occasions stepped back to an edge of the room, as the Youth's eyes lit up, "Mother," he seemed to restrain himself as he bowed, "Lady Martell, Little Lady Martell."
Laenah flushed and Evelyn withheld a sigh as she dipped into a curtsy, though before pleasantries could be exchanged the Queen spoke, "Sullivan, rest for now. Ser Lannister, if you could inform Theobald to prepare four meals and have them delivered."
"As you command, your grace," The Kingslayer lowered his head, stifling a chuckle as he slipped by as the Queen turned to See Barristan.
"Would you be kind enough to help me set up the table Ser Barristan?"
"It would be my pleasure, your grace."
Evelyn was lost, standing at the door with Laenah by her side, wholly stumped by the sudden momentum of the room. The Crown Prince; Sullivan, returned his stick to a long weaponrack that she had only now noticed, spotting an array of weapons from wooden knives and daggers all the way to gigantic polearms and war bows… The room was well used, and as she peered through the chainmail wall, she found a large fortress of pillows, cloth and cushions…
Laenah pulled at the hem of her dress, pulling Evelyn's attention to the Crown Prince to watch as he pulled a large book out of a lidless chest… Seemingly feeling their gazes he raised his head and gently waved despite the awkwardness in his gaze. Perhaps he wasn't very social…
It hadn't taken long for the Queen and Kingsguard to put together a rather hefty table of oak with a few clever notches that secured the legs to the table, only needing them to slid into place, and short while later Ser Lannister returned with two extra chairs as the Queen settled into her own seat and patted the one at her side pulling the Prince's attention away from his book… Allowing Evelyn a glance of its spine…
[A Feeble Understanding of the Stars]
A book she had never heard of, yet one that caught her attention all the same it didn't seem to be a book of stories, and more akin to one of knowledge…
"Hello," The Queen spoke simply, "I am Helena Baratheon, and this is Sullivan Baratheon. Whilst in this room, you will refer to us as such. I care not to waste time speaking baseless pleasantries and skirting around the true purpose of conversation. Thus, once you introduce yourself, and partake in a meal we will begin discussing why YOU think your daughter is worthy of MY child."
Evelyn couldn't help but take in a sharp breath as the Queen's gaze narrowed to a frightening degree, though that gaze was pulled away as the Prince spoke, "Mother… Please…?."
As if it was a different woman, the Queen changed as she smiled brightly, "Oh?! I can't apologize this time Sully…"
"Mother…"
Conflict showed in Helena's eyes before one half won, and the Queen seemed to suppress a coo, "Of course, how could I deny my handsome little boy…?"
Evelyn was pulled along, unable to say a word as Laenah shared a glance with her mother, a part of the atmosphere fostered by the Queen had the place feeling like a shadow of home…
It wasn't long before an old maester stepped into the room with four bowls of thick gruel, and two loaves of toasted bread laid atop a large tray while two decanters hung from a string at his waist. One a watery golden, and the other a dark pinkish red.
The Prince barely seemed able to contain himself at the sight of the dark pinkish red liquid, his eyes snapping to the Queen who only smiled in response, causing the youth's eyes to widen further…
Evelyn would be lying if she said she wasn't curious what the liquid was… Though, as the bowl of thick, chunky gruel smothered with a medicinal scent was laid before her, she could help but feel her stomach wish to turn over…
Laenah had much the same reaction, and the Queen who hadn't paid them any mind started to cut a laid into thin finger wide pieces of bread, while the Maester poured the Crown Prince a wooden cup of the liquid the Prince had eyed so intently, and with the cork of the decanter gone the barely recognizable yet unfamiliar scent was without the faintest hint of that alcoholic scent.
The Queen was already eating in silence, her bowl of gruel tucked into the crook of her arm as she brought mouthful after mouthful to her lips, occasionally dunking her bread into the gruel and washing it all down with the watery golden liquid, that Evelyn had quickly placed as 'something' mixed with peach. Still it lacked the familiar scent of alcohol.
Laenah stared down at the gruel, and the Crown Prince sent her a look of understanding, while the Maester spoke, "It may look unappetizing, but it is actually quite nutritious. A single bowl is equal to a half day's worth of eating, Helena prefers this over large feast as she sees them as a waste of resources. Ah! I have lessened the density of your's compared to the Queens, I do believe that if you were to try and eat Her Majesty's gruel, you may find yourself poisoned. Anyways, would you like Peach & Coconut Water, or the Crown Prince's personal supply of Cran—Strawberry Coconut Water?"
Poisoned…? Was the Queen purposely poisoning herself— "You don't have to worry, I didn't mean poison in the literal sense. Mhm, I guess it would be better to say that if you are the same gruel as she was, you'd be fulfilling a week's worth of eating in one sitting…"
"Huh…?"
"Her bowl does weigh nearly six—times what yours do—"
"Theobald, would it kill you to be quiet? Your endless ramblings are the last thing I want to hear when—"
"Mother, can we finish my sword tomorrow?"
Sword…? Finish?
"Of course dear, I'll make sure to keep the lard warm through the night, so we can quench your sword come sunrise."
It seems Laenah decided to find her voice, as Evelyn hasn't been able, "Your— Helena—"
"Yes, child?" Helena's gaze fell upon Laenah causing the youth to momentarily shrink back under the intimidating gaze.
"I—Can—" Laenah took a deep breath, as if to solidify her thoughts, "Can I watch?"
The Queen tilted her head, confusion washing through her eyes before realization set in, "Oh, I don't mind, it isn't as if I use any secret technique when working metal, and Sully is still in the process of learning. I think he'd be capable of reliably forging Iron before the next year, and perhaps even begin to work with steel…"
Sullivan's eyes grew wider and wider in excitement, as Helena continued seemingly lost in her own world as her thoughts spilled from her mouth, "It would take a while before I'm confident to allow him to begin forging alone, not that I would be far… This Godforsaken castle is filled with disgusting pests who—"
"Mother… It isn't nice to call people pests."
"I know, my child, but those who'd dare to take an attempt against your life aren't naught but pest before your Mother's fury… Forgive me child, but this is something your Mother will not budge on…" The Queen rubbed a scar that ran across the back of her hand, one of the many that were visible across her body, before her gaze rose to meet Evelyn's eyes as the Dornish Princess tentatively brought a spoonful of gruel to her lips, with Laenah cautiously watching from the side…
"It's… not bad…? It's strong in flavor, but the texture and the aftertaste of medicine do it no justice."
"Yup," Sullivan yapped as he wiped his mouth after finishing his meal, once again he opened his book and began reading away, occasionally taking a sip from his juice.
"Take as long as you need to finish. Come, My child, you can return to the Worthless Maester's studies once you finish reciting the proper method of maintaining a single edged blade while taking to your forms."
"Yes, Mother," Sullivan snapped his book closed and laid it upon the table, before scurrying off to grab his stick and finding his place before the Queen and taking a stance…
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The Queen and Prince were unlike anything Laenah could have imagined… The Queen was a beauty in her own right, one that had Laenah's gaze lingering in the woman's face as her smile seemed to draw in the young girl's attention. Though, the Crown Prince, despite being a few years younger than Laenah, was nearly as tall as she was and in no manner did he seem to be only Five—Name—Days.
He looked to be kind and gentle, and the manner in which he so casually chided his own mother; The Queen, was a mind boggling thing to witness… Laenah would never dare, yet the Queen seemed to flip whenever the Crown Prince spoke.
In those moments, the scar bound woman seemed harmless… Laenah could see the toughness of her hands, they weren't the soft suppleness that nearly all Noblewoman fussed themselves over. No, callous had hardened her fingers alongside the scars that spoke of downright torturous training, the Queen's knuckles looked worse than those of a drunken brawler as they were large and layered with scars and scabs, much of the same which trailed up both her arms.
Seemingly catching her gaze, the Maester whom had apparently been crouched behind the youth let out a light chuckle to begin his words starting both the Mother and Daughter, "Do you see that straw man on the far end of the room…? For nearly 4 hours every night, when the Prince goes to sleep the Queen would strike that straw man until her hands and arms bled. Every day, she wakes to do the same. In the past year, the Queen hadn't managed more than 20 hours of sleep a week. That is hard she trains, and now she is imparting her warrior spirit into her child, a truly frightening thought… The Queen is a woman who would kill dozens without a blink of hesitation, nor any care of the consequences… and she is quite paranoid. She even killed the midwife, soley because the woman dared to take her child away from her… Take this as my warning, any attempt at manipulating either of them while having women marching to Dorne, intent on claiming as many lives as she can as she does not fear death. Helena fears failure. If you truly wish for a marriage, you best be doing so with only pure intentions or you'll find that woman looming over your bed one night…" Theobald finished his words by refilling Laenah's cup, and taking a step back leaving both the youth and mother to their thoughts.
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[1 Moon Later | 3rd Moon | 289 A.C.]
Helena watched with a sharp gaze as Laenah and Sullivan lazed in the Castle's Garden after morning training. HER child had somehow convinced Helena to allow the Dornish Princess to join them, and it seemed to have been an idea born from the young temptress. Though, the young girl seemed to have begun regretting doing such a thing, as her chest heaved with every breath.
At Helena's side, and a step behind was Evelyn who had been watching with a worried gaze as Ser Jamie pummeled the two youths with a leather sword. The hits sounded MUCH worse than they truly were, as how could Helena allow her precious, handsome little boy to be mercilessly beaten by a man twice his size…
Helena truly had to stop herself from thoroughly pummeling the Kingslayer in their spars, and the only reason she could manage to contain herself was the fact that Sully himself had asked for such a rigorous change to his training… Wanting to further imitate his Mother, something that made Helena's heart pound with pride, and only further her motivation to train harder…
"You care for him so much, it almost makes me feel as if I don't do enough for Laenah…"
"If you have doubts, then do better." Helena had a simple, curt reply that didn't leave much room to further the conversation, but Evelyn managed nonetheless.
"Have you decided if you'll accept—"
Helena shook her head, "I'm not the one to decide. Just as MY child has chosen his own name, Sullivan will choose his own love. I don't care if such a choice will start a war with Dorne, or all the slavers of Essos. Any who dare stand in MY child's way will be ruthlessly cut down, until I no longer breathe, I don't care if I have to reduce the Seven Kingdoms to a wasteland by my lonesome. I will do so until my last breath, so that MY child may dictate his own life. Whether that is as the Crown Prince and eventually the King, or on a homestead in the North… Whatever his choice may be, I'll fight to make it happen. That is the kind of determination a Mother must have to keep their child safe…"
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(A/N: [68?? Words] I lied, I ended up writing more than I thought I would and didn't finish the Time Skips… So there will be more next chapter as well… Which will also have the Status that has been missing…
Anyways, Until Next Time,
White_Dog
)