Chapter 15
"A guard?" Tyrion repeated tensely.
"Yes," Jon stated, keeping his voice steady. "I want him found if he's still alive."
Tyrion nodded. "Did Helena tell you his name?"
"No, and I'm not going to ask." Jon paused, stepping closer to Tyrion. "I want this man's head. There will be no public trials or rumors. Nothing that could harm Helena."
"I agree," Tyrion stated. "This needs to be handled discreetly."
Tyrion nodded thoughtfully, his mind already racing through possible avenues to find the guard. "I'll set Varys on it," he said finally. "If anyone can find this man, it's him. He has ears everywhere."
Jon gave a curt nod, his jaw set in grim determination. "Good. The sooner, the better. And Tyrion, this stays between us. I don't want Helena to worry."
"Understood," Tyrion replied, his tone serious. "We'll handle this quietly."
As Tyrion turned to leave, Jon called out to him one last time. "Thank you, Tyrion."
Tyrion paused, giving Jon a smile. "For Helena, I'd do anything. She's the only family I have left."
Jon returned to his chambers where Helena was still resting. He slid into bed beside her, careful not to wake her. She stirred slightly, instinctively moving closer to him. He wrapped an arm around her, holding her gently.
Ghost, who had followed Jon from the study, claimed his usual spot at the end of the bed, letting out a disgruntled huff.
"I'm sorry, but I do need some privacy every now and then," Jon whispered.
Ghost responded with another huff, turning his back on Jon in apparent protest.
Jon chuckled softly at Ghost's disgruntled response. "You'll get used to it," he murmured, giving the direwolf an affectionate pat before settling back into bed. Helena shifted in her sleep, her hand resting on Jon's chest. He placed his hand over hers, feeling the warmth and softness of her touch.
As the dawn broke, Jon awoke to find Helena still nestled against him, her breathing steady and calm. He gently brushed a strand of hair from her face, watching her peaceful expression. He felt a surge of protectiveness, a determination to keep her safe from any harm.
Helena stirred and opened her eyes, smiling sleepily at him. "Good morning," she whispered.
"Good morning," Jon replied, kissing her forehead. "Did you sleep well?"
"Better than I have in a long time," she admitted, her smile growing.
He nodded, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction. "I have to attend to some duties today, but I'll be back as soon as I can."
Helena nodded, sitting up and stretching. "I'll be fine. I have some things to take care of as well."
Jon reluctantly left the warmth of the bed, dressing quickly. He gave Helena one last kiss before heading out to face the day's responsibilities. His first stop was his study, where Tyrion and Varys were already waiting.
Varys greeted Jon with a slight bow. "I've begun making inquiries," he said without preamble. "It may take some time, but I will find this man."
"Thank you, Varys," Jon replied, appreciating the spymaster's efficiency. "And remember, this must be handled with the utmost discretion."
"Of course," Varys assured him. "No one will know until the deed is done."
Jon nodded, feeling a grim sense of satisfaction. "Good. Keep me updated."
He spent the rest of the day overseeing the rebuilding efforts in the city, his mind never straying far from Helena. He checked on the progress, spoke with the workers, and ensured that supplies were distributed fairly. The people of King's Landing were still wary of their new ruler, but Jon was determined to win their trust.
As the sun began to set, Jon made his way back to the Red Keep. He found Helena in the gardens, talking with a group of children who were eagerly showing her the flowers they had planted. She looked up and smiled when she saw him, her face lighting up.
"Hello, Jon," she greeted him warmly.
"Hello, Helena," he replied, feeling a sense of peace wash over him. "How was your day?"
"It was good," she said, standing and brushing dirt from her hands. "These children have been helping me with the garden. It's been a productive day."
Jon smiled, his heart swelling with pride. "You're doing wonderful work, Helena."
She blushed slightly, her eyes shining with gratitude. "Thank you. My hands are dirty," she added as he offered her his arm.
"I don't mind," he assured her.
She hesitated briefly before accepting his arm. Jon's eyes widened as he noticed Ghost joining them. The direwolf wore a flower wreath on his head.
"The children wanted to crown him as the cutest wolf in King's Landing," Helena explained, the corners of her mouth twitching with amusement. "Ghost was very patient."
Jon chuckled, the sound deep and warm, as he took in the sight of Ghost with the flower crown resting, somewhat crookedly, on his head. "The cutest wolf in King's Landing, huh?" he mused, scratching Ghost behind the ears. "I don't think he'd appreciate the title, but I'm glad he humored them."
Helena's smile grew, and a soft laugh escaped her. "I think he rather enjoyed the attention. He sat so still while they made it for him."
Jon smiled, glancing at Ghost who was padding at their side.
"Are you going to your quarters?" he asked as he escorted Helena inside.
She nodded. "Yes, I need to wash up and get changed before dinner."
"I would like us to have dinner in my chambers tonight," he stated. "Just the two of us."
Helena glanced at him, clearly surprised. "Of course."
Jon bit his bottom lip, trying to choose his words carefully. "I want to spend more time with you. I want this marriage to be more than just a formality."
She blinked a few times before replying. "I would like that. And… I will try my best to fulfill your expectations…"
"No, Helena, I don't want you to worry about that. I just want your company. That's all. I want something… real."
She nodded. "I understand. I never wanted the kind of marriage my parents had either."
Jon's expression softened, sensing the hint of vulnerability in her words. "Then we'll build something different," he said quietly. "Something better."
They walked in comfortable silence until they reached the corridor leading to her quarters. Helena released his arm gently, her gaze lingering on his for a moment. "I'll be ready shortly," she promised.
Jon nodded, watching as she slipped through the door before making his way to his own chambers. He called for one of the servants and instructed them to arrange a simple yet intimate meal. Nothing extravagant, just a quiet dinner where he and Helena could share each other's company without the formality that had accompanied so many of their meals since they'd been married.
As he waited, he found himself feeling oddly nervous. He wanted Helena to feel at ease tonight, but he also wanted her to see that he valued her, that he saw her not just as his wife but as someone he genuinely wanted to know and care for.
Ghost settled on the rug by the hearth, seemingly content wearing his flower crown. Jon noticed that the portrait Helena had given him was still on the table.
He picked up the portrait, studying it for a moment, his fingers brushing over the edges. Helena had painted it herself, and he could tell it held more meaning than any lavish gift he'd received before. It was thoughtful and personal, just like her. It definitely belonged on the wall.
"Would you like me to hang that for you, Your Grace?" Jareth asked.
Jon glanced up, surprised to see the young servant standing in the doorway, his expression respectful but with a hint of a smile.
"Yes, thank you, Jareth," Jon replied, handing him the portrait carefully. "Make sure it's where everyone who enters can see it. It deserves that."
Jareth nodded, studying the painting with a hint of admiration before turning to find the right spot. "The Queen truly is gifted," he remarked quietly as he measured the wall space.
Jon couldn't help but agree, watching as Jareth hung the portrait with meticulous care. Ghost's likeness looked almost lifelike, Helena having captured his intelligent, watchful gaze and the slight tilt of his ears. The painting radiated the same strength and quiet loyalty that Ghost himself embodied.
"You're right, she is gifted," Jon murmured, a note of pride in his voice. He felt a quiet admiration for Helena's skill. Somehow, she'd managed to capture Ghost's essence with a mere brush and paint, a feat that spoke volumes about her perceptiveness.
Jareth stepped back, inspecting his work. "If you'd like, I can bring a few candles to place nearby, Your Grace. Would give it a nice glow," he suggested.
Jon nodded, appreciating the thoughtfulness. "That's a good idea, Jareth. My wife will be pleased to see it here."
The young servant bowed and headed off to fetch the candles, leaving Jon alone with the painting for a moment. He reached out, his fingers lightly grazing the edge of the frame. This small piece of Helena's world, one she'd chosen to share with him, felt like a bridge across the gap they were trying to close.
When Helena finally arrived, dressed in a simple gown with her hair falling softly around her shoulders, Jon felt his breath catch. She looked different somehow, perhaps it was the gentle ease in her eyes, or the slight flush on her cheeks.
"You look beautiful," he said, taking her hand as she entered.
Helena smiled, glancing down as if to compose herself. "Thank you," she replied. "You look… less intimidating without the cloak," she added playfully.
Jon chuckled. "I suppose that's the point." He pulled a chair out for her, then took a seat across from her as they settled into the quiet of the evening. The candles cast a soft, warm glow, and for a moment, the troubles of the realm seemed to fade away.
Helena looked surprised as she noticed her painting on the wall.
"Oh… I didn't think you would want to hang it here. It doesn't really fit with all the beautiful artwork you have."
Jon shook his head, leaning forward slightly. "I wouldn't put it anywhere else," he replied earnestly. "This isn't just another piece of artwork, Helena. It's something you created, and that means more to me than all the tapestries and portraits in this castle."
Helena's face softened, the hint of uncertainty fading as she looked at the painting and then back at him. "I… I'm glad you think so," she murmured. "Your gift to me was so thoughtful, and I wanted to give you something in return. I just… I wasn't sure if you would find my gift childish, especially compared to yours."
Jon's expression softened, and he reached across the table, gently taking her hand in his. "Helena, there's nothing childish about it. You gave me something personal, something made by your own hands. It means more to me than anything gold or jeweled. The garden was meant to be a place where you could find peace, and this…" he gestured to the painting "…brings me the same."
Helena's cheeks flushed, and she looked down, her fingers brushing against his in a way that felt both tentative and comfortable. "I'm glad you like it."
Jon nodded, holding her gaze. "Would it be rude of me to ask you to sit on my lap?" he hummed.
A deeper flush rose on Helena's cheeks, and she let out a soft giggle. "A king doesn't have to ask for anything."
Jon chuckled, his smile widening as he watched her cheeks grow pinker. "Even a king likes to be granted permission now and then," he murmured, his eyes twinkling with warmth. She seemed to consider him for a moment, her expression softening, and then she rose, moving around the table to him.
He wrapped his arms around her as she settled onto his lap, her body adjusting to his closeness before she leaned into him.
He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering along her cheek. "This is what I want," he murmured. "Something real."
Helena was quiet for a moment before finally speaking. "May I ask you a personal question?"
"Yes, of course," Jon replied, his tone encouraging.
She hesitated, gathering her thoughts. "Is it true that you loved Daenerys Targaryen? I don't mean to pry; I just… I would like to understand you better."
Jon sighed softly, holding Helena tightly against his chest. "It's true," he murmured, his voice laced with a mix of nostalgia and sorrow.
"I'm sorry for your loss," she said quietly, her eyes searching his.
"Thank you," Jon replied, appreciating her empathy.
"Was she… was she your first love?" Helena asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"No," he answered, his gaze drifting to the past. "There was someone before her. Her name was Ygritte."
Helena seemed to absorb this in silence, her fingers tracing gentle patterns along Jon's arm. "Ygritte," she repeated softly. "What was she like?"
Jon's expression softened, a mixture of nostalgia and pain crossing his features. "She was fierce, unyielding. A wildling, loyal to her people, to her way of life. I was still with the Night's Watch then, sworn to keep away from… well, everything I ended up doing." He let out a quiet chuckle. "She didn't care about rules or allegiances. She taught me a lot, challenged me in ways I wasn't prepared for."
Helena's expression held a quiet understanding as she listened, her hand resting gently on his chest. "It sounds like she left a strong impression."
"She did. And I loved her," Jon admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But it was a different kind of love. With Ygritte, it was wild, full of defiance. With Daenerys, it was… complicated, tied to duty and dreams for a better world."
He looked down at Helena, searching her face for a reaction. "I suppose that's why I'm so grateful for you," he added. "With you, it doesn't feel complicated. Just… real."
Helena's lips curved into a soft smile, her eyes meeting his with a warmth that steadied him. "Thank you for telling me," she said, her voice gentle. "I may not have stories like yours, but I'd like to be someone you can talk to about them."
Jon pulled her a little closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "That's all I need, Helena. Just you."