Chapter 11: The Godswood Meeting
Three days in the archives taught me more than dragon lore.
The Velaryon collection—stored in a wing of the Red Keep's library by Corlys's arrangement—held maps, ledgers, schedules. Dry stuff that most nobles ignored. But cross-reference enough servant rosters with guard rotations, and patterns emerged.
The Princess Rhaenyra trained with her dragon every morning at dawn. Prince Aegon stumbled to breakfast around noon, hungover more often than not. The Queen visited the sept twice daily.
And Princess Helaena walked the godswood every third day at noon, accompanied only by her septa.
Every. Third. Day.
Predictable. Exploitable.
I memorized the layout. The godswood sat in the heart of the Red Keep, sheltered by high walls. One entrance. The weirwood tree at its center, ancient and pale. Stone benches arranged in a loose circle.
Today was the third day since I'd started counting.
I left the library at half past eleven, walked through the Keep's corridors like I belonged there. Corlys's employment gave me that much—a bastard in his service had legitimate reason to be here, even if most guards still looked at me sideways.
The godswood was empty when I arrived. Perfect.
I positioned myself near the weirwood, sitting on the grass with my back against its trunk. Pulled out my knife and a whetstone, made a show of sharpening the blade. My knuckles were split and scabbed from Shigan practice—real injuries, healing slower than burns because I hadn't built resistance to blunt trauma yet.
Good cover story. Just a fighter maintaining his weapon.
Noon came. Footsteps on stone.
Two figures entered. A woman in septa's robes, maybe forty, with the pinched expression of someone perpetually disappointed. And behind her, moving like she was somewhere else entirely, silver-white hair catching the sunlight—
Helaena.
Smaller than I'd thought. Slender, almost fragile-looking. She wore a simple green dress, no jewelry. Her eyes—pale purple, unfocused—swept across the godswood without really seeing it.
"Princess, perhaps we could discuss your embroidery while we—" the septa began.
Helaena walked past her without acknowledgment, headed straight for a cluster of flowers near the base of the weirwood. Knelt in the grass, not caring that it would stain her dress.
Septa Teora sighed. "Princess, your mother would prefer—"
"The ants are building," Helaena said softly, more to herself than anyone else.
The septa's mouth thinned. She glanced at me, clearly uncomfortable with a stranger's presence, but I was already here and she couldn't make me leave without causing a scene.
I kept sharpening my knife. Slow, methodical. Pretending not to notice them.
Helaena bent lower, watching something in the grass. A line of ants, probably. Carrying bits of leaf and twig.
Ten minutes passed. The septa stood rigid, proper, miserable. Helaena remained motionless except for the slight tilt of her head as she tracked the ants' movement.
I set down the whetstone. Stood. Approached slowly, making sure my footsteps were audible. Didn't want to startle her.
Stopped two meters away. Knelt.
"What do they say?"
Helaena didn't look up. "They say you're too loud."
I smiled despite myself. "I'll be quieter."
Silence. Septa Teora looked like she wanted to intervene but couldn't decide if I was being inappropriate or just odd.
Helaena tilted her head the other direction. "They're carrying the dead. One died in the tunnel. They're taking it outside."
I looked. She was right. One ant carrying what looked like a tiny black corpse.
"That's sad," I said.
"They don't think so. It's just work." She finally glanced at me. Quick, assessing. Eyes moving from my face to my hands to the knife at my belt. "You're the one from the tournament."
"Yes."
"You moved wrong. Like time skipped."
Perceptive.
"I train differently than most."
"Why?"
Good question. How much truth could I give?
"Because the normal ways weren't enough."
She considered this. Nodded slowly, like it made perfect sense. Turned back to the ants.
We sat in silence. The septa shifted her weight, clearly wanting to leave but unwilling to interrupt whatever this was.
A butterfly drifted past. Blue and gold, wings catching the light. It circled Helaena twice, then landed on her outstretched finger.
She went very still. Barely breathing.
"It's looking for sweetness," she whispered. "But finds only salt."
The butterfly's wings moved slowly. Open, closed. Open, closed.
I watched her watch it. "Then it'll have to keep flying."
The butterfly took off, disappearing over the godswood wall.
Helaena looked at me again. Really looked this time. Her eyes were strange—not mad, despite what people said. Just... seeing things from angles no one else considered.
"Why do you bleed so much?" She pointed at my bandaged knuckles.
"Training."
"For what?"
"To protect something important."
"What's important?"
I held her gaze. "I'm still deciding."
Her head tilted. The same motion I'd seen at the tournament. Like a bird examining something curious and potentially dangerous.
"You're lying. You've already decided."
Shit. She's sharper than anyone gives her credit for.
"Maybe."
"The ants say you'll come back." She stood, brushing grass from her dress. "They're usually right about people."
Septa Teora finally found her voice. "Princess, we should return. Your mother—"
"Yes, yes." Helaena started walking toward the entrance, then paused. Didn't turn around. "Three days. I'll be here again in three days."
She left.
I stayed kneeling, staring at the spot where she'd been.
Septa Teora lingered, giving me a look that promised unpleasant consequences if I approached her charge again.
Then she followed Helaena out.
I walked back to my rented room in a daze.
She'd seen through my lie immediately. Knew I'd already decided something was important. Invited me to return.
And that last part—"I'll be here again in three days"—that wasn't her following a routine. That was deliberate. She wanted me to come back.
Why?
I stripped off my shirt, examined the collection of scars and fresh injuries. Burns on my palms. Split knuckles. Bruises from Tekkai training. I looked like I'd been through a war.
Because I was preparing for one.
The Dance would come. Blood and Cheese. Rook's Rest. All of it. And Helaena would be at the center, forced to watch her children die, her world collapse.
Not if I could stop it.
I pulled out the remaining gold dragons. Three left. Nearly broke.
But I had a plan. And now, I had her attention.
Three days. I'd return in three days. And in the meantime, I'd make myself stronger. Faster. Harder to kill.
Because protecting Helaena meant being ready for anything.
Everything else—the Dance, the politics, the power—it was all just means to an end.
She's what matters. Everything starts and ends with keeping her alive.
I lay back on the bed, closed my eyes.
Three days.
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