⋆✴︎˚｡⋆    the hand of the late king welcomes helvis baratheon née selmy,  the lady of storm’s end, to the kingsmoot. the realm knows them to be principled and composed, but the master of whisperers has unearthed information that speaks to their unyielding  and sanctimonious tendencies. to dream of them would be to dream of a hand clenched tight about itself, crescent imprints on palms that never quite leave ; beauty that withers, thin as leafskin under autumn winds ; head always turned up, up, up: there is always further to go. they themselves dream of house baratheon on the throne. time is an unwieldy mistress, and only she may tell who will sit the iron throne when the dust settles.
father lord bradamar selmy Ⅹ. mother lady gwenys selmy, née ashford Ⅹ. siblings lord berenger selmy, older brother; constance selmy, younger sister Ⅹ. late husband ser triston connington Ⅹ. good family house connington. children alynne, robert, and ysolde connington. husband lord chayton baratheon. step-children syrenna, myrcella, and jocelyn baratheon.
tw for familial death (mother, sister, spouse) and miscarriage
62 ac. the selmys' first daughter is born still and silent, blue-lipped with it, before the wet nurse rouses her with a stiff slap on the back. what had been tears a moment before turns to joy: eager cheers and happy cries. she is named helvis for her health, for the eager way she cries past death.
68 ac. a second daughter is born to the selmys, but the birth takes the lady gwenys' life. the child, constance, becomes helvis' eternal companion: her doll, her pet, her sweet younger sister, the constant target of all her affections.
81 ac. at nineteen, helvis is well-known through the stormlands. with a talent for tapestry and weaving, a songbird's voice, a light foot for dance and a pretty smile to offer every guest at harvest hall. lord selmy, always an open-handed man, allows her the choice of it; will she have lord caron's son? will she accept lord meadows' suit? in the end she is the one who chooses her husband: ser triston connington, with his bright eyes, the grin that takes shape about her, the heir to griffin's roost, wins her heart and her hand—and they are wed. her only grief being how far she will be from her dear, dear sister!
83 ac. yet not all happiness can last. as helvis grows round with child for the first time, sickness passes through the dornish marches, and her sweet constance, her first child, is lost... as, shortly after, is her own babe. the grief that takes her is strong, sharp—but the hand holding hers remains steady even where helvis falters, and before long her smiles return. eager to move past these losses, helvis throws herself into growing her connections, for herself and for triston's sake; forming new connections with the ladies of the houses by shipbreaker bay; she writes letters to lady tarth, hosts the penrose girls, seeks to match her goodsister into house mertyn where she had once tried to place her own sister... and, of course, pays frequent homages to lady amarys baratheon.
84 ac. helvis and triston's first daughter, alynne connington, future heir to griffin's roost, is born.
87 ac. a son is born! robert connington is born, the spitting image of his father. the same year, triston gains some repute as a band of raiders plague the rainwood, and triston is among the principal knights bringing them to justice.
91 ac. helvis has another daughter, ysolde, mere weeks before the wedding of her good-sister to her wylde husband; lord connington organises a celebration at griffin's roost, attended by all across the stormlands: best of all, their liege lords. shortly thereafter, helvis is invited to storm's end, to serve as one of lady amarys' companions, when house connington may spare her.
100 ac. helvis connington counts her years of joy in intervals of grief. sorrow strikes again, brutal, terrible: ser triston is felled during an attempt to capture some outlaws. there, and then gone. the grief is immeasurable—the injustice cruel, unbearable. yet what's past is past: widow's weeds do not last forever, and helvis has never been one to linger in grief. there is much for her to watch: her goodbrother's eye on griffin's roost, her children, so close to grown; her place in the teetering hierarchies in the stormlands. lady amarys is ill, people whisper. she is six-and-thirty, a young woman yet; there are those that seek her favour, her attention. helvis declines them; she will not do this to herself another time for nothing.
102 ac. but she will, for something. when lady amarys passes, she offers her condolences... and when lord chayton baratheon offers a hand—theirs can be a shared grief—she accepts it.
lady of storm's end is a title helvis is most proud to hold, and house baratheon will be all that is expected of it, if she has any say about it, and that would include working with or against her step-children for greater achievements. she may be personally quite sad and tired, but what does that matter? who has the time for sorrow, when there are things to do, places to go, people to meet. helvis is religious to the point of superstition; socially conscious above all, and deeply entrenched in stormlands politics and with an eye on the prize. what is the prize? well. the throne is up for grabs, isn't it?
