helvis baratheon, upon discovering amaya arryn @bethemouth in the streets of king's landing, two days before the harvest feast.
King's Landing always offered much to complain about. A long few days' travel had left Helvis saddlesore and weary with it, pained in the legs and restless. At Storm's Ends she might take a comfortable turn with a lady in the godswood, ease the pains in the shaded comfort of the anwercient trees... but the Baratheon manse in King's Landing offered no such retreat. The gates to the Red Keep were closed, and would remain so, Chayton had been informed, until the day of the invitation. The city was too vast and too ripe for a walk, and yet with no other avenue, Helvis found herself with a lady's maid and a nervous guardsman, walking the shaded streets by the manse.
The streets here were busy, always, so much unlike the villages that had sat at the base of every home she had ever known. Even the little sept, no more than a seven-sided hall, though with well-painted icons upon the walls, had people within, even at this morning hour. Helvis would never understand how such a surfeit of life could suffer itself in such close quarters; why they withstood it. Her maid handed the makeshift septon there a handful of stags in and they took their leave.
On her return, she saw a familiar presence, and paused. A large party had halted the passage of any other who wished to make use of this street, and the gathered gold cloaks were making a nuisance of themselves rather than offering aid. Helvis sighed and turned to stand in the shade, until the disagreement resolved itself... and found another that she recognised a small distance away, watching these same proceedings.
"Lady Arryn," Helvis greeted, approaching. “What a pleasant happenstance. I had wondered whether you would be in attendance at the Kingsmoot.”
