ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋ ꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀ - House of the Dragon

CHAPTER THIRTY

The godswood was unable to put into words.

It was gorgeous, truly, and the red leafs made a beautiful contrast with the green and brown of the ground and the trees. However, the face in the tree's trunk, with the red drops that resembled blood, was hard to stare at. Almost as if it was one of the gods glancing back at you. Judging or forgiving you, no one knew.

It felt ironic.

The Hightowers professed the Faith of the Seven, as it could be seen in the Keep itself, with the pointed seven stars in mostly every corner. Even Queen Alicent had a necklace with that same form, and both her and Aemond (her most devoted son) spent many hours kneeling at the feet of one of the statues in the Sept, lighting up candles and mentally praying as if they would ever be listened.

Yet the godswoods were wooden sanctuaries dedicated to the Old Gods of the Forest. It felt right, that Winterfell had one, since they were people of old traditions and devoted to the old gods. But the Red Keep? It almost felt as a jest.

What would Cregan Stark say if he saw the godswood surrounded by people who didn't believe in it? In what it represented? He would probably have a heart attack.

It was a surprise, when Joffrey ran at me during my training begging me to visit the place, as if couldn't do it for himself. Mother said not alone, he had said. And Daemon had rolled his eyes before quietly complaining and allowing me to go, a hand in my brother's and the other cleaning the sweat of my brow.

We had spent little more than moon in King's Landing by that time, yet it was the very first time Joff had shown any indication of devotion. I didn't complain, and allowed him to drag me all the way around the Keep until we finally arrived at his destination.

However, I didn't think I fit there.

I did not believe in any gods, old or new, and I felt as an intruder. As if I was bothering the face staring back at me as Joffrey inspected the place, trying to touch the leafs of the lower branches and giggling as a boy of six would do.

My clothes weren't proper for the place either. I was in my training suit, which was merely what I would wear to court if my mother didn't force me to put in a gown. Black leather trousers that stuck to my legs due to the sweat, a white dress-shirt (the oldest I packed, which was actually Jace's) that was held up by a black corset, and my boots, black as well as the rest. My hair was braided in a more elaborate way than my usual style, and Rhaena and Baela had spend forty five minutes gossiping as they attempted to braid it, only to ask Emory for help when they gave up. I looked as my forebear Queen Visenya, they said, if only I had full silver hair.

It was truly a blessing my shoulder was completely heal, for my stepfather to have had decided to toss aside his gentleness and train as if we were at war. My knees hurt for the times I had fallen, my jaw hurt due to his sword's pommel hitting me, my hip hurt due to a new scratch, even my back felt as if it was about to crack in any sudden moment. What put Daemon in such a mood that he went all in with me? I didn't know, but I could've had kissed the feet of whoever did it. I needed that adrenaline. Though my mother would have a great time scolding her husband if she ever saw the new bruise in my hip.

"Do you like it?"

Joffrey stared at me, a red leaf in hand, and smiled in a way that his crooked teeth weren't seen. He handed me the sheet, wrinkling his nose when I grabbed it and put it on his ear, pulling his dark curls out of the way and kneeling in front of him with a smile of my own.

"You look cute."

He giggled when I pinched his cheek, briefly kissing his brow before he opened his arms and threw himself on top of me. I knew what he wanted, and, despite the short pain in my shoulder as I held him above my head, I threw him in the air, chuckling when he howled and groaned as a dragon would do.