Chapter 21: The Household Appointment
The summons came three days after my audience with Viserys.
Not from the king. From Otto Hightower.
A servant found me in the training yard, where I was running through sword drills between my shifts guarding Helaena's godswood visits.
"Lord Hand requests your presence. Small council chamber. Immediately."
Here it comes.
Otto wouldn't summon me unless he had a plan. And Otto's plans usually involved turning people into chess pieces.
I cleaned my blade, sheathed it, and followed.
The small council chamber was smaller than the throne room but somehow more intimidating. Intimate. This was where real power moved, away from public spectacle.
Otto sat at the head of the table. Alicent to his right, watching me with those careful eyes. Corlys Velaryon across from her, looking mildly annoyed at being pulled from his ships.
Lord Commander Criston Cole stood by the door. Hand on his sword hilt. Ready.
I stopped at the appropriate distance. Waited.
Otto spoke first. "Lord Ulf. Thank you for coming."
"I'm not a lord, Hand."
"A technicality we may address in time." He gestured to a chair. "Sit."
I sat. Corlys caught my eye, gave a slight nod. Play along.
"Princess Helaena has expressed... comfort with your presence," Otto began. "Her mother and I have noticed an improvement in her disposition since you began attending her in the godswood."
Alicent's voice was soft but firm. "She speaks more. Smiles occasionally. Seems less... lost."
"The princess is kind to allow my company," I said carefully.
"Kind." Otto's lips thinned. "Or perhaps you provide something her family cannot. Attention without judgment."
Where is this going?
"Her Grace the Queen and I believe it would benefit the realm if the princess's stability were... maintained." Otto folded his hands. "To that end, we propose transferring you from Lord Corlys's service to the Red Keep's household guard. Specifically, assigned to attend Princess Helaena during her daily activities."
Silence.
Corlys broke it. "You're taking my best marine."
"We're offering him a position of greater honor and responsibility," Otto countered. "Surely you see the value in having a man you trust close to the royal family."
"I see you want control over who influences the princess."
"I want what's best for the realm. If that includes keeping the king's daughter calm and content, so be it."
They stared at each other. Power politics playing out over my head.
I spoke up. "What would my duties entail?"
Otto turned his attention back to me. "Escort the princess during her walks. Attend her in the godswood and elsewhere as needed. Ensure her safety and wellbeing."
"A glorified nursemaid."
Alicent's voice sharpened. "A trusted protector. My daughter deserves that much."
I looked at her. Really looked. And saw something I hadn't expected: genuine concern. Maternal worry beneath the political calculation.
"I'll accept," I said. "On three conditions."
Otto's eyebrow rose. "You negotiate with the Hand of the King?"
"I negotiate for clarity. First: I answer to Princess Helaena directly. Not the Lord Commander, not the Master of Arms. Her orders supersede all others except the king's."
Criston Cole's hand tightened on his sword. Otto held up a hand, stopping whatever objection was coming.
"Granted. Second condition?"
"I maintain my personal training schedule. Early mornings, before dawn. Whatever I need to stay sharp."
"Unusual, but acceptable. Third?"
"Housing within the Keep. Close enough to respond if the princess needs me."
Otto considered this. Then nodded. "We can arrange a room in the servants' wing. Nothing grand, but secure and private."
"That's all I need."
He pulled parchment from a stack, slid it across the table. Contract. Terms written in formal script.
"Sign. You'll begin immediately."
I read it. Standard service agreement, with my conditions added in Otto's neat handwriting. Corlys had already signed, releasing me from his employ.
I picked up the quill. Signed.
Alicent leaned forward. "Ulf. Protect my daughter. That's all I ask."
Not a request. A command from a mother who'd seen what this world did to gentle souls.
"I will, Your Grace."
She nodded. Satisfied or resigned, hard to tell.
Otto stood. "A steward will show you to your quarters. You begin tomorrow."
Dismissed.
The room was exactly as promised. Small. Servants' wing, third floor. A bed, a table, a chest for belongings. Window overlooking the training yard.
But the strategic value was immediate.
The door connected to a narrow servants' passage—the kind used for delivering meals and changing linens without disturbing nobles. I walked it, memorizing turns.
Thirty paces. One staircase. Two turns.
Helaena's chambers.
I could reach her in under thirty seconds.
Otto thinks he's positioning a loyal dog. He doesn't realize he just gave me exactly what I wanted.
I moved my possessions from the Street of Steel room. Weighted gear, wrapped in cloth to hide its nature. Training sword. The maps of the undercroft, hidden in a false bottom of the chest.
Everything I needed, now inside the Keep itself.
Midnight. My first official night guarding Helaena's chambers.
I stood outside her door, back straight, hands clasped. Professional. Appropriate.
The door opened.
Helaena stood there in her nightgown, hair unbound, looking smaller and more fragile than usual.
"You're here now?" Her voice was quiet. Uncertain.
"Every night. Unless you'd rather I wasn't."
"No. I want—" She paused. "The dreams are quieter when you're near. Not gone. But quieter."
"Then I'll stay."
She smiled. That fragile, genuine smile that felt like a gift.
"Good night, Ulf."
"Good night, Princess."
She closed the door softly.
I resumed my position. Back against the wall. Alert but relaxed.
This was it. The position I'd been maneuvering toward since the tournament. Official protector. Legitimate access. Close enough to prevent threats before they materialized.
Otto thought he controlled me. Alicent thought I was her daughter's comfort.
Both true. Both incomplete.
I was here for one reason: keeping Helaena and her children alive when the Dance came.
Everything else—the politics, the positioning, the perception—was just means to that end.
The weight of it settled on my shoulders. Heavy. Real.
I accepted it fully.
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