Morning sunlight dappled through the leaves of the great weirwood tree in mischievous ribbons, as Baelon and Helaena found themselves amidst the familiar serenity of the Godswood.
Baelon was absorbed in the book clutched in his hands.
Whilst he had sifted through many of the texts in the Red Keep in his yesteryears, some that he had perceived to be less intriguing were just left to rot.
And, here was tasting that in full irony, reading through a book he would have deemed 'useless' a few years ago.
Still, he was unable to escape the pull of the surrounding calm as a certain lithe figure hopped about near the stalwart heart tree.
"What is it you're looking at?" Baelon couldn't help but ask.
"The tree…" Helaena mused, her gaze fixed on the ancient weirwood with an expression somewhere between distaste and contemplation. "It's a rather ugly thing, isn't it? Though I'm glad it hasn't been cut down yet."
"I suppose so…" Baelon murmured, his mind wandering as he looked up at the gnarled tree with orange-red leaves that danced like flames.
It had stood the test of time, much longer than many of the men who had worshipped it, but in a world dominated by the Faith of the Seven, he had no illusions about its future.
He highly doubted this tree would last another century, let alone remain untouched. Somewhere, a devout believer was likely sharpening an axe, ready to claim this relic for the Faith.
On the topic of gods…
His eyes flitted back to the book in his hands, still thick with dust and age. Its pages were as yellow as Rhevos' teeth, some corners frayed, others illegible as time had taken its toll.
Still, Baelon found himself enraptured by its words.
Many a thousand years ago, the Primordial Mother Planetos birthed a myriad lives.
On her skin grew a great many flora, painting the world in their own selfish hues.
Her breath carried winged beasts of various sizes as they filled the sky with their flight.
Her tears birthed oceans, encircling the world in a cruel embrace.
Her blood created mountains that stretched to the highest of heavens.
Still, from her very essence came forth a different creature.
We call them by many names, but only one title has stood the test of time.
Gods.
The Mother of the Rhoyne.
The Nightlion.
The Drowned God.
Yet none, not one among them, stood as infamous as those of Valyria.
Balerion, the Eternal Sun.
Meraxes, Queen of Beauty.
Vhagar, Goddess of Victory.
Syrax, Goddess of Wealth and Fertility.
Tyrax, God of Blood and Wrath.
…
———, God of Knowledge and Secrets.
The final of the thirteen is unknown to me and all who have come before me. All we know of him is his Godhood and the fact that he slighted Balerion. I can only theorise that the unfortunate divinity was torn apart by the angry God-King.
Baelon's eyes narrowed as he scanned the passage.
"That's strange…" Baelon muttered to himself, his fingers hovering over the pages. "Slighted Balerion? Is there truly nothing else to add?"
Helaena, who had been inspecting the heart tree, turned her head at the sudden quiet. "What is it?"
Baelon closed the book with a soft snap, letting his hands rest on the worn cover. "It's about gods. An unknown one. Seemed to have angered Balerion, of all gods."
Both of them fell into a deep quiet as they recalled that monstrous titan, the searing heat that kissed their skin and the sheer futility they had felt.
Helaena's lips curled into a slight frown, no doubt recalling the previous evening. "So, even the gods fought among themselves?"
"I suppose they must have," Baelon mused, running his thumb along the edge of the book's cracked spine. "No different than men, is it?"
"Perhaps not," she replied thoughtfully, though her eyes were far away, staring at the weirwood tree in confusion.
The wind whispered through Godswood as Baelon's mind drifted.
God of Knowledge and Secrets.
Soon, a familiar yet wretchedly genial face flashed in his mind.
'Coincidence?' Baelon pondered for a moment before he slapped that thought away.
It seemed unlikely. But if the situation proved true…he could only say it would leave him in a precarious position, one he was not eager to find himself in.
Thud.
He closed the book as questions piled up.
What was its aim? Why had it lied? How did they fit into its plans?
Baelon sighed, the tension easing slightly as he noticed Helaena kneel down and snatch a plump beetle of the ground, as its stubby legs angrily shook at her.
"Are you finally happy to be home?" Baelon asked softly.
Helaena paused for a moment, the beetle took the chance to escape, but was again robbed of its freedom as she leapt forth and caught it in mid-air.
She sighed, brushing her hands against her dress absentmindedly. "I suppose so," she said, her voice almost melancholic. "But everything feels so familiar, yet frighteningly not."
Baelon studied her, his brow furrowing slightly. "What do you mean by that?"
Helaena seemed to hesitate. "It's as if we've returned, but it's not the same. I had thought to find some relief, some sort of fullness or warmth in me, but…there is nothing." She shook her head. "It is not the same as when we left. I wonder…I wonder if this is even home anymore."
Baelon nodded slowly, his mind turning toward their mother and her immediate confinement following yesterday's turmoil.
It weighed on him, just as it weighed on Helaena.
"Is Mother truly just confined?" She asked quietly.
"Yes, an incredibly light punishment at that," he replied. "Especially considering she had murdered a prince. The son of the incumbent heir, at that."
His mother had been a pawn in a game since she had been wed to their father, but she had still made her choices.
Baelon had no illusions about her; she was no longer some poor soul manipulated by circumstance.
But still, she was his mother.
Helaena's face still looked troubled.
She didn't need to ask the question that lingered in both of their minds.
Why had their father been so lenient?
"I don't understand," Baelon muttered, his thoughts still swirling. "I would have thought… well, after everything, that he'd have been far harsher. But instead, she's been given… what? House arrest? I just can't figure it out."
Helaena shook her head. "It could be because of us..." She said slowly, her voice trailing off.
Baelon considered that, the thought lingering for a moment before he dismissed. "No, if that were the case, then why would Rhaenyra leave so easily? Why would she go back to Dragonstone with her family, without a word?"
Nothing seemed to make sense. His mother's punishment didn't fit the crime. Rhaenyra's departure from King's Landing did not resemble an angry mother; instead, it seemed laced with…despondency?
A new Westerosi game for upper nobility? Perhaps.
But it didn't add up.
Baelon clenched his jaw in frustration. "It's a peculiar situation," he muttered, more to himself than to Helaena. "So…very peculiar"
"Perhaps we'll find out soon enough." She murmured.
Baelon thought for a moment. 'Alas, it seems I'll have to wait for Silvo to relay some information.'
However, Baelon's attention was snatched as something in the distance caught his eye, a figure approaching, making his way through the dappled light of the Godswood.
It wasn't long before the figure became clearer, and Baelon recognised them.
"A familiar situation, isn't it?" Baelon remarked.
Helaena turned her gaze towards the approaching figure, her brow furrowing ever so slightly before she nodded. "Fortunately, the Gods have spared Aegon this time."
Baelon watched as Aemond drew closer. "It seems he has something to say," Baelon continued, half to himself, half to his sister. "Do you want to come along?"
Helaena gave him a brief glance before shaking her head. "No, I can already imagine what it is he wants to say, and I doubt much will come from it."
She paused, a rare seriousness crossing her face as she turned back to him, her gaze softening. "I must remind you not to mourn over that day in Driftmark. His situation is unfortunate, but we can make it up in other capacities, rather than wallowing away all the time."
Baelon arched a brow, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Yes, yes, O' wise Helaena," he said, mimicking a mock bow. His voice was light, though there was a warmth in his tone that only Helaena seemed to be able to draw from him these days.
Her expression was unimpressed. Nevertheless, Baelon could sense the care beneath her words, and for that, he was grateful.
He met her eyes one last time, offering a nod before he turned away as he approached the masked figure that seemed so stark against the morning warmth.