The Sacrifices, and Unfolding
Robert heaved a long sigh as he stared at the horde of treasure he had amassed to not only sway Helena to his side, but to also shower his Lyanna in riches should she return…
Yet, Helena hadn't needed to be swayed, and that left Robert to wait for Lyanna's return; should it ever come… He didn't care for these riches, Robert always found more enjoyment in watching others spoil their wealth; even if that wealth spread from his hands.
His gaze rose to the ceiling in a silent prayer, before he turned and sealed the heavy stone doors…
His steps could be heard echoing through the mostly forgotten corridors of the Red Keep, those that the guests are settled quite the distance from yet even farther than the King's Quarters. Though, the whispers from Varys speak of a certain woman wandering halls, her fingers running across the stone. Robert could care less what Helena was seeking in these halls, he trusts in those who cast their voice in her name. Ned, who said she has a Honest Gaze, Theobald who speaks of the woman more than anyone yet his tone wasn't of affection nor familial bind, but as a specimen to be studied.
The old man always had an obsessive side that brought a chill to Robert—
"Your grace, It has begun."
Robert heaved a sigh as he sent a nod to Ser Barristan who flanked the easily forgotten Kingsguard who had kept with the King.
"Let's see what Theobald and that woman has prepared," Robert couldn't help the smile come to his face, his expectations high but reasonable. With The Mountain chained with promises Robert would wish very few, a cruelty passed down through traditions older than Namesake's castle, and buried in the walls of Winterfell…
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Helena walked shackled and bound between two large knights bearing the Baratheon sigil and colors upon their tabards. Hefty maces held tight in their gauntleted hands, yet their gaze was cast outward and not at the 'prisoner' they were escorting.
Helena shook her head at the thought, as she allowed her mind to prepare for what was to come. The taste of iron, rot, decay touched upon her tongue and grew deeper with every passing breath. A blend of her Father's and Mother's final sensations filled her body causing her hair to stand in end, as every fiber in her being tensed… Only to be nudged, and her eyes opened to find that they had arrived the sounds of the surroundings flooding in reminding Helena of her terrible habit…
Shouts, slurs, slander, glares, leers…
Helena absorbed it all with pupils the size of a needlepoint, a faint tremble washed through her body as anticipation filled her mind. This would be her stage.
Whether in death, or victory they will learn of her Name, of her History, of her Stubbornness. Of the Freedom, Helena wished for…
A long breath fell from her lips as she looked over a wide stone arena, the stone stands that watched from the side, the numerous knights and men—at—arms of all assortment of banners… Her smile widened, all the nobles sneering, leering, slandering, then her gaze fell upon the behemoth that was The Mountain, then the weapon he wielded and she scowled, a truly unsightly scowl.
Its edge mangled, flatted to a dull edge the width of the tip of her pinky, the heart of the weapon itself forgotten or ignored in the process… A butchering of her Grandfather's profession, the very same her Father was to inherit, and what Helena had shouldered…
Someone began to speak, but Helena's focus was pulled by the extensive rack of weapons—"Is there anyone who wishes to fight for Helena Koblya, the accused?"
Helena snapped around catching the addition to her name, catching a few stepping out or standing but quickly dismissed them as she announced, "I seek no champion! It is my hands the Gods; Old and New, shall weigh!"
Silence fell upon the surroundings, before it was swarmed with whispers, a few mocking laughs echoed in the surroundings but were quickly silenced as those people were singled out from amongst the crowd…
Robert looking down from upon the high test seat watched on silently with an intentful gaze, while a Lion leaned forward his hands steepled in interest.
Once again the surroundings fell into the background, as Helena began to inspect the weapons offered, understanding that as long as she didn't step into the marked arena the Trail wouldn't begin.
She grabbed and weighed a number of swords, axes, warhammers, maces, polearms, spears in her hands eventually settling on a steel plated axe with an elongated point and a beaked head at its rear, before slipping a dagger into the leather belt at her waist and grabbing a common shield…
Helena wasn't dull enough to realize the shield wouldn't make much difference aside from saving her ribs… As she doubted her arm could receive the blow…
A sharp breath shot from her nose as the taste of death settled in her mouth once more, and walked the edge of the arena watching as the mountain turned each time she circled… A small part of her had wished he had attacked so this would all be over with, such consequences would never be so simple. Until she found her back at the ocean, the small waist height wall that separated her from a long fall… Her shadow was cast the whole way across the arena as the Sun was positioned high in the sky, yet still at her back as it had long yet to reach its peak, while it wouldn't affect those watching it was peering into the Mountains vision…
That's when she dashed forward, her shield thrown to the ground in a clatter that muffled her footfalls the moment his large head turned and the slits in helm hid her from his vision when his eyes were forced to adjust to the blinding light, and the moment the beak of her axe slammed into his groin… Finding the most sacred place of a man beneath… Finding chainmail, leather, and padding but no plate.
The Mountain crumbled before her eyes, yet it was long from finished… They would have to pull her from this man… As Helena needed everyone to understand…
The axe cleaved through the air cutting through the thin sheets of steel lacing the inside of The Mountain's fingers, robbing three from his left hand before the man had begun to gather himself with a guttural roar that sounded more monstrous than man. He scrambled, trying to grab Helena's foot, yet she shifted backwards and he attempted to rise to his feet only for his armor to impede him enough for Helena to impact the back of his helmet with the beak of her axe with a series of steps. His right arm flailed at her in an attempt to grasp something, yet he only found air as Helena shifted to his left keeping at his back, dropping her axe upon his left shoulder which was currently bearing his weight.
Doing little but causing it to buckle, and bend a few overlapped plates. Yet, it was enough as Helena momentarily retreated as The Mountain snapped around in fury, a curse and slur slipping from his lips but it never found Helena's mind as she watched as he reached for his blade… With his left hand butchered, and his shoulder stiff…
The moment the weight of the blade fell upon The Mountain's arm, Helena kicked forward having only been a few steps out of ranger and her foot found its flat and her weight fell upon the blade as The Mountain lurched forward from the shift, his balance undone as he dropped his blad and grabbed Helena's foot…
Yet her dagger had already found his skull…
A foot for a life… A worthwhile price, one Helena gladly paid, as it could have ended much, much worse. Silence…
Then a slow clap and Helena's axe stalled from an attempt to cleave his helm in two when she turned to find Tywin Lannister standing, his hands producing those claps as a subtle frown found his face. Helena honored him with a bright smile, and a curtsy.
Robert exploded into boisterous, ravenous laughter that consumed the silence, and none dared to speak. The King was happy, so that must show much the same in the moment, more 'delicate' matters that arise from this situation can be broached at a later—better time.
Helena was ushered away, the weapons taken from her as The Mountains twitching was slowly crowded around. Tywin only sent the corpse a passing grace before retreating, while Robert held his groin, his actions hidden by the box built around his seat, a heavy cold sweat soaking his back as he remembered a nightmare/dream he had oh so long ago…
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Helena sat in a room filled with aged men, as a table laden with food rested before her… At her right side was Theobald who wiggled in his seat for many long moments, and on her left was a woman she had yet to see…
The so-called Thorn of the Reach, a woman who despite her advanced age still held the shadows of her former beauty. Helena stared at that woman for a long time, uncaring of the gazes she was receiving because of her actions, uncaring of the lack of courtesy that came with…
She was seen as a Lowborn Bastard who had mysteriously managed their way to Noblehood, thus she would act as one…
The shadow that superimposed the Beautiful Rose of the Reach was one that spoke only of the incredible depth laid before her gaze. Both the Lowborn, and the Thorn shared a nod that spoke many words, yet acted in silence as their gaze broke. Whispers filled the table, only now reaching Helena's ears as her focus spread once more. No food was laid before the numerous nobles as Robert had yet to reveal his boisterous self, with a wince Helena adjusted herself in her seat, catching the narrowed gaze of the plump bald man who stood in a shadowed corner…
Helena's brows furrowed for a brief moment, before she turned her head to catch Theobald staring at her with a grin. A frown came to her face immediately, and the old maester huffed…
Helena narrowed her eyes, before her focus drifted elsewhere catching Tywin Lannister at the separate table surrounded by numerous heads of gold blonde. Her focus shifted once more towards the exit, before she rose to her feet and began taking steps towards the small doors.
Before eventually finding the Kingsguard who was unlucky enough to be pulled from his break, the tiredness evident in his emerald gaze as he let out a sigh through his helm.
"Let Robert know I've decided to retire for the night…" Helena grit her teeth and angled her head with a breath before righting herself and speaking with a falsified smile, "… and that my door shall be open."
With a stifled sigh, Helena slipped through the door leaving the festering whispers behind as relative silence washed her ears of the buzzing. Yet, it did little to ease her mind, as her heart began to pound in her ears and her breaths began quick, stifled, smothered…
Her body fell against the wall, and she clutched onto the stone to keep from falling to the ground. Her thoughts immediately went to poison… When?! They went rampant, swarming through her mind as a heat spread through her head—
Darkness. A gasp, and light came once more, Helena was still leant against the wall yet felt cold, all that followed was a wince with every step as she returned to her room. Hoping to get some rest, because she wouldn't find much after nightfall…
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Falling into a chair, Helena took a breath before leaning over and gently running her fingers across her foot, before quickly chasing her head cleansing her thoughts from her mind before she pulled out a leather satchel laden with small hollowed and 'sealed' wooden dowels.
Pulling out the wooden 'seal' from the hollowed dowel, Helena dropped the whole thing into the basin, before painfully fetching two buckets of water and filling it halfway before using her hand to slosh the water slowly… Slowly, mixing the salve into the water. Leaving Helena with a thick murky water, dragging over her chair, she rested her foot in the mixture.
One of Theobald's specialties, that Helena had learned the recipe for, and was meant for reducing swelling while having the addition of being an amazing soap, and edible…
Helena sighed, allowing her thoughts to dominate her mind for a brief instant, and quickly fell to sleep as her thought fell into a predictable cycle, one that lured Helena into her somewhat uncomfortable chair's embrace.
Helena didn't awaken until her door creaked, and her eyes snapped her hand reaching for the axe laid next to her chair only to find a boisterous fellow gently stepping into her room in nearly a full set of armor… A newly forged cup resting around his groin as he stiffened at the sight of the Axe barreling towards him… Only for Helena to pull back at the last moment, as Ser Barristan leveled his sword against her unprotected next, she heaved a breath and the aged knight did the same, "My deepest apologies… It seems I'm still tense from the Trail…"
As Helena tossed her axe on to her bed, Robert gave an awkward chuckle as Ser Barristan slipped his sword into his sheath, Robert roughly clapping the aged knight on the back, "Well done! I can trust that whether it be a dagger—an axe in the dark, or a sword in the light. You'll have their head falling from their shoulder… Now… My fair maiden, I doubt you've had me come all this way, for this King to warm your bed."
Helena rolled her eyes, only to furrow her brows in confusion as she hadn't meant to, but she relaxed as a breath slipped from her lips, "The Red Keep is suffocating… I ask, Your Majesty, if I may spend some time in the—"
"Wonderful! Then a Hunt we shall have! Kingslayer, inform the Guards, TOMORROW WE HUNT!"
Helena sighed, but got what she had asked for either way— "Fetch this beautiful woman a Bow— Do you know how to use a bow?! Bah! What does it matter, I'll fetch William the best archer in all the Stormlands!"
Helena sighed, before meeting Robert's gaze as the Kingsguard retreated from the room, and she dropped her dress…
She may hate herself for using her body in such a manner, but Helena could reason the sacrifice. It helped that Robert was fairly pleasing to the eye… It helped soften the sacrifice she was about to make…
Robert stiffened, and for the briefest of moment he looked akin to a child whom tasted honey for the very first time, before his expression became serious, "You?! I swear to the God; Old and New, that if your fucking with me! I'll— Fuck!"
His gaze lingered on her body, as if he wished to seat the sight before him into his mind…
Her breasts are just large enough to barely fill his hands both soft, yet perky, shallow muscles that bound her shoulder, stomach, and thighs that ripples with every small movement… Thighs thick enough to suffocate within. A waist neither too thin, nor too wide with hips that were godsent for bearing children.
Cersei… Oh Cersei could not compare… Even when clothed, Robert could spy what more than a decade of being spoiled had done to that woman's body. Though, Helena… Helena was what Robert truly thought a 'True' woman was…
Slowly, Helena sauntered over to Robert, her steps heavy enough to cause a faint ripple to wash though her breasts with every footfall, as her right hand laid upon his chest plate, and her left loosened the straps with a blantant experience that, if Robert hadn't known any better he would have assumed it was from undressing other men… Yet, Theobald had guaranteed her virginity, even if she wouldn't bleed when penetrated… While rare, Theobald had explained that under vigorous exercise the Maidenhead could be ruptured…
Robert shook his head, casting away his wayward thoughts as Helena's lips brushed against his collarbone… Soft, supple, and a gentle warmth… Much like her hands that roamed his body, as despite their faint roughness they were still a woman's hands—
Robert was pulled along, and was never given the chance to lead, as Helena pulled upon the shared experience of her Mother and Father; casting away the visual and leaving only the shadowed knowledge…
Her breath hitched as it slid in…
A beast unknown to Helena was unleashed, one that had been inherited from her Mother, and stoked into a roaring flame by echoes of her Father… Both of them were akin to starved beasts when exploring each other's bodies… Though, as Robert attempts to take the lead, shifting Helena under him…
Helena learned that pain could be pleasure too…
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Ser Barristan leaned against the doorframe with an awkward expression, one that was matched by his fellow Kingsguard… He couldn't tell if he should charge into the room as he felt a reverberation run through the wall, or if their intercourse was simply this violent…
The door shook, and a moan echoed through the halls, followed by a feminine grunt as a weight fell, and Robert's pained voice followed only for it to be drowned out by rigorous impacts of flesh…
Moments like these, Ser Barristan wished he was deaf, not even the late king would be this violent even when—The aged knight sneered, even when forcing himself upon his queen…
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(A/N: [29?? Words] No Status)