"An unnamed female cousin, whose father and husband died during the Siege of Storm's End. She was of an age with her cousin Robert, with whom she would play when they were both still very young."
The Kingdom needed a Queen, and the Crown needed someone they could trust. So instead of rewarding Tywin Lannister for his neutrality during the rebellion, Robert's cousin is summoned from Estermont to King's Landing.
The doors before me opened to reveal the throne room of the Red Keep. A holy and famed room -its doors swung just for me. My gaze stayed level and even, and in the pinnacle of my eye line sat a man, a thunderous Lord -now King, in a throne forged of steel and blood.
When I knew him he was a boy; we were but children, but I was still old enough to remember those eyes of the brightest blue. And yet, those eyes that I had held in memory as filled with laughter; always so jovial, were now icy and proud. Those were two words I never thought I would use to describe Robert, my King now.
Regardless of the ghosted eyes that haunted me as I made my way forward alone, my feet did not fail me and neither did my eyes. I spotted, other than the King whose own eyes would not leave me, two other men standing by his side and one guard in a clean white cloak standing at the foot of the stairs that led to the throne. The man standing to the King's right was far older than the King himself, with kind pale eyes and a prominent pin on his breast, and I registered that he must be Jon Arryn -not just because I had heard that it was he who was made Hand of the King but also by the way he loomed protectively around the King with all the concern a father usually held. I tried not to think of my own father as I watched. The other man stood to the King's left, tall and strong but so solemn, and the black he wore matched the King's own. They are all still in mourning.
Except I wasn't. I wasn't allowed to be. All my dresses have either been sown up or thrown away, and I now wore a rich gown of blue -far richer than I had ever been used to wearing, instead of the black I wore but a moon ago. When my brother received the letter of summons his eyes had hovered dangerously over the tear at the bottom of my dress, like the very reminder than I had had a husband was treason of the highest order. He knew. But it wasn't just my husband that I mourned. It was for our father, our men, the widows left in their wake, and for all the children that had to suffer and starve.
I had to shake my thoughts away from such darkness. I was wearing a blue dress. I was wearing my mother's jewels. I was standing before the King.
I cast my eyes down as I gave a low courtesy and when I had lifted my eyes I knew that I had worn my mask well.
"Cousin Helaena," Robert announced, "I am pleased to see you gracing our court." He didn't get up for me and I hadn't expected him to.
"I am pleased to be here, your Grace." I resisted the urge to join my hands together and pick nervously at the skin that still remained there and instead chose to focus on making sure my voice escaped me unaffected as well as fight the nervous blush I could feel rise up my chest.
"This is my Hand, Lord Arryn." He introduced, motioning to the elder man in the process. So I had been right.
The elder man made his way down the steps with his chest still puffed out in pride but a softer countenance to his face. I gave him a shallow curtsy before he had gotten too close and he took my hand gently and impressed it with a light kiss.
"My Lady, it is very good to see you at court." He repeated much of the same words, and probably the same sentiments, that Robert had done not moments ago, but his words had an undeniable warmth to them that I could only recognise as pitty of some sort. His eyes bore into mine as if to say, I know this hard for you. I would give him nothing to pity, and I smiled brightly at him to ward off anymore of his doubts.
"It is very good to be here, my Lord Hand." He moved away from me after giving me a nod but did not return back up to where the King sat, instead choosing to stand next to the silent Kingsguard by the stairs in between the King and I.
"This is Lord Stark of Winterfell, and my Warden of the North." Robert's voice now held a slight tinge of familiarity to the one I had known when he introduced the Lord of Winterfell.
I knew of their friendship, of course, from all the talk of the rebellion. But also from the last time I had seen Robert when him and his family had come to Estermont, he was only recently fostered at the Vale and yet all his talk and all his stories were of the Northern boy who rarely smiled but always made him laugh.
The man in question made his way to me in much the same fashion that Lord Arryn had, his movements betraying nothing. But his eyes, those eyes of the deepest and saddest grey bore directly into my own when he halfheartedly kissed my hand and I felt a chill rush through me at how sad a man can be; how much you have to love someone to be so broken. But it wasn't just her that he -or they, had lost. It was his father and brother as well, burned in this very room if the rumors were to be believed.
Everything about him -his eyes, his brow, his skin, they all looked out of place in a place like this, and I didn't know which one of us to feel the most sorry for. It was now I who was giving him the look I had resented Lord Arryn giving to me, I know this is hard for you.
He had mumbled a few words and I in return but that was all that our exchange was limited to. It was a distraction, an appetiser to the main event. Everyone standing in that room knew why I was here and why Robert was looking at me like he was about to consume a meal he was being forced to eat.
"I am sorry for your loss, Lady Helaena. But the war is over, and the world must go on." Losses, not loss.
"As I am sorry for yours, as well, your Grace." He grimaced at the return of condolence and the other men in the room only shuffled awkwardly at the mention of loss like they were trying to avoid something. I had the impression that it was not an easy to subject to broach with the King. I also knew Robert had a temper befitting a Sea God, so it was not easy to discern a connection between the two.
"You are family. You are the blood of my mother, and your family has always been loyal to mine."
"I remember, your grace." I will aways remember, I could never forget.
"Then will you be my Queen?" He winced as he said it, but I knew that it was the reason I was there, so there was no need to beat around the bush any longer. The moment I had been called to court after hearing of Lyanna Stark's death, I knew what it had all been for. It was not a question, though. Robert, especially a King, could not be refused. I didn't want to fight it, I was tired of the fighting.
But still, something inside me hesitated gravely even when it might have been dangerous to do so. I saw a path before me, lined with the sapphire of my cousin's eyes and yet the tides of my thoughts pulled me back before I could walk into it; I didn't know whether it was perhaps any affection I might have had for my fallen husband, the love Robert still held for his fallen betrothed or the blood that still lined the city -or the heads that rot on the spikes at its gates. All I knew was that it was still so soon.
"I am honoured, your Grace, that you think me fit of such a role. And I would like nothing more than to be a wife to a man as brave as you, but.." Everyone in attendance held their breath for my next words, shocked at the notion that it could be anything other than "Of course, your Grace.". In that moment I was glad that my presentation had been left to be a more private affair; which was rare enough as it is in King's Landing.
"I can not help but feel as though this is all a little too soon."
"Are you refusing the order of your King?" He said it almost like he wanted me to refuse him. Like he was excited at the prospect of reprimanding me, punishing me for my insolence -and best of all, not having to actually marry me.
"Of course not, your grace." A king is not to be refused, "I just believe that our wounds -all of our wounds, are still so fresh. This war...it has cost all of us a great deal, and I fear no one has come out of it unscathed. We, as well as the Kingdom, need time to heal, your Grace." Before I could watch Robert gather his breath to react in a way I was most certain would not have been favourable to my still delicate disposition the Lord of the Vale made his way to my side and addressed me with his eyes still half on the King.
"You are very right my Lady. We have all bled. However, through our grief we must persevere. The Kingdom needs stability. The people need to see their new King and the crown needs an heir, and that can not be done without his Queen. We beseech you to help us do right by the Kingdom, my Lady."
What right had they done the Kingdom? What had Robert done but send thousands of young men to their deaths, her father and husband and almost her brother included? The only good that came out of this war was the Mad King's end -even then, it had been Ser Jaime who had done the deed. Kingslayer, as they've dubbed him -but his betrayal had saved the city while Tywin Lannister's show of allegiance killed the innocents that lay in the crossfire, so why was it Tywin that was rewarded? Why were any of them?
But wasn't I being rewarded as well? Any maiden in the land would only dream of this, of this moment. A King, as fine and as handsome as they tell you in the bards, asking you to be his wife -his Queen. But the man that had fought so hard for his Lady was now plagued by a ghost; I could see that as plain as ever even though I had surely become a stranger to him by now. I am your mother's blood. That much was true, I was his blood. She was strength and salt, she was of the sea. I had her and my father's eyes and hair -how fitting must it have been for another Baratheon to marry another Estermont in such quick succession? Robert's own father's hair and eyes had won out over his mother's, would his do the same to mine, I wonder?
"I will do my duty, and will be honoured by it my Lord Hand," I turned back to face the King, my King, once again, "your Grace."