Chapter 11

Helena sat on the bench, watching the ships sail away from the harbor, their white sails catching the wind. This spot had been her sanctuary as a child, a place of peace and wonder. The garden, the sea, the endless horizon, they had all been part of her innocent dreams. She used to imagine where those ships were headed, what strange and magical lands they would see, what treasures they would bring back.

A wistful smile tugged at her lips as she thought of that hopeful child, unaware of the darkness that awaited her. Perhaps it was better that she hadn't known then, those were her happiest memories, untouched by pain.

Her thoughts drifted to her father. She could almost see him standing on the balcony above, his broad figure outlined against the setting sun, a cup of wine in his hand. The music and laughter had always seemed to spill out from his chambers, filling the garden with warmth. Those chambers belonged to Jon now. And Jon had given this garden to her. It was a gesture she still couldn't quite believe. Uncle Tyrion had mentioned to Jon how much she had loved this place, and without a second thought, Jon had gifted it to her. A wedding gift unlike any other.

It pained her that she had nothing to give him in return. She hadn't even thought of a gift for him, and now she felt the weight of that omission. Jon had been nothing but kind to her, patient beyond her expectations. What could she possibly offer him? Her mind wandered, searching for something meaningful, but no answers came.

At least today hadn't been wasted. She'd been introduced to Ser Brienne, who had kindly shown her around, and Helena had met all the members of the Queensguard. It still felt strange to have so many people dedicated to protecting her. She had also taken time to meet her new maids as well as a group of young women from noble and merchant families. One of them would soon be chosen as her handmaiden. Helena had never realized how coveted that position was, how much it meant to those women to serve in such a role. It was an important decision, one that would bind her to someone closely, and she couldn't afford to choose carelessly.

Helena startled out of her thoughts as she noticed Ghost padding quietly through the garden. His large, white form moved gracefully among the flowers, his nose occasionally dipping to sniff the grass or inspect a shrub. The sight of him, so calm and at ease, struck her as oddly comforting. She hadn't been used to being around such creatures, but Ghost had a quiet, protective presence that she had come to appreciate, even if his initial appearance had frightened her.

The direwolf seemed to sense her watching him, and his red eyes flicked up to meet hers. For a moment, they simply regarded each other, Helena still unsure of how to approach the massive animal, and Ghost, as ever, inscrutable in his silence. But after a few heartbeats, Ghost gave a low, soft huff, almost as if acknowledging her, before continuing his lazy circuit of the garden.

Helena let out a small breath, relaxing again. She had been so caught up in her thoughts that she hadn't realized how tense she had become. It seemed like everyone and everything in this new life required her to be on edge, constantly alert. Yet here, in this garden with Ghost keeping his quiet watch, there was a sense of peace.

The weight of her earlier decision, to choose a handmaiden, still loomed in the back of her mind. It was more than just selecting a companion. Whoever she chose would know her intimately, would see her in moments of weakness and vulnerability. And while the thought of sharing her life with a stranger made her uneasy, Helena knew it was necessary. She needed someone she could trust, someone who wouldn't just serve her but would support her.

But trust didn't come easily to her anymore.

As Ghost circled back, his quiet presence reassuring her, Helena wondered if she would ever find the same sense of security in another person. She hoped so. For now, though, she would take small steps, starting with this garden, her little sanctuary, and the choice she needed to make in the days ahead.

Jon tried to concentrate on his dinner, but his gaze kept drifting back to Helena. She sat beside him, poised and elegant, her light forest green gown bringing out the deep color of her eyes, and the emerald necklace around her neck, a gift he had given her at their engagement, glimmered in the candlelight. It had been Tyrion's idea to choose the necklace, something Jon had deferred to Helena's uncle since he knew little about gifts, let alone jewelry. Still, it had seemed to please Helena, even if he hadn't been certain at the time if it was the right gesture.

At least with the garden, he had been able to give her something meaningful. The look of joy in her eyes when he told her it was hers had been the first time he felt like he'd done something right by her. It had felt like a small victory, a way to offer her a piece of herself back.

But now, as he watched her gracefully socialize with the court, her movements polished and her words perfectly measured, Jon couldn't help but wonder if it was all a performance. Helena was playing her role flawlessly, engaging their guests with polite warmth, but there was a part of her that seemed distant, closed off. If he didn't know her better, he might have believed she was content, even happy, but Jon had seen glimpses of the pain she kept hidden.

He felt a pang of guilt. Was he doing enough to help her? Was he being the husband she needed?

As Helena laughed softly at something one of the guests said, Jon could see how well she was handling her duties, how she was mastering her new role as queen. But behind the smile, there was a quiet sadness, something that lingered beneath the surface. He could sense it, even if no one else could. She was shouldering a burden that no one here knew about, except perhaps Tyrion.

Jon turned back to his plate, his appetite fading as he wrestled with the weight of his thoughts. He wanted to protect her, to offer her more than just a title or gifts. He wanted her to feel safe, to trust him. But how could he do that when she seemed so adept at keeping her true feelings hidden?

"That is a lovely necklace, Your Grace," one of the ladies complimented.

"Thank you," Helena replied, a polite smile on her face. "It was a gift from His Grace."

"Oh really?" the lady hummed. "I must compliment you for your excellent taste, Your Grace. The Queen truly is lucky."

"I am," Helena said and took Jon's hand before he managed to speak. "I have no doubt that His Grace will be the greatest king the realm has ever seen."

Jon was caught off guard when Helena suddenly took his hand, her touch gentle but deliberate. He glanced at her, and though she smiled at him warmly, there was something in her eyes, a quiet resolve, perhaps, that made him wonder what she was truly thinking. The compliment had come so smoothly, so effortlessly, yet he couldn't help but feel the weight of her words.

The guests at the table murmured their approval, and Jon, still holding Helena's hand, offered a small, appreciative nod to the lady who had complimented the necklace. But his mind lingered on Helena's words. She was supporting him, projecting confidence in him as her husband and king, but it felt like another layer of the mask she wore so well.

As the conversation at the table resumed, Jon squeezed Helena's hand gently, a silent thank you for her words. She glanced at him, offering another warm smile, and then withdrew her hand to take a sip of her water, returning her attention to the courtiers around them.

Jon's thoughts churned. Helena was playing her role perfectly. Almost too perfectly. He could see how her poise and elegance charmed the court, but behind the facade, he feared she was only distancing herself further from him. She supported him as her king, but did she trust him as her husband?

As the evening wore on, Jon found it harder to focus on the discussions around him. His thoughts kept circling back to Helena. She was trying so hard to be the queen everyone expected, but what did she need from him? How could he help her feel that she didn't need to carry this burden alone?

"Do you mind if I retire?" Helena whispered as the dinner finally concluded.

"No, of course not," Jon replied. "I think I'll join you."

"You're not leaving already, Your Grace?" Bronn asked playfully as Jon led Helena to the doors.

"I believe I am," Jon replied. "But you enjoy your night, Ser Bronn."

"You too, Your Grace," Bronn chuckled with a wink. "I still recall what it was like to be a newlywed."

Jon offered Bronn a tight smile, his grip on Helena's hand steady as they moved toward the doors. He could hear Bronn's chuckle fade as they left the hall, but Jon's mind wasn't on the teasing. His thoughts were solely on Helena, who walked beside him, quiet and composed as ever.

They walked in silence through the dimly lit corridors, the flickering torches casting shadows along the stone walls. Jon wanted to say something, but he struggled to find the right words. Helena had been perfect tonight. She had smiled, engaged with the court, and made him look like a king who had everything under control. Yet he could sense her exhaustion beneath it all.

"Do you want to sleep in your quarters tonight?" he asked.

She hesitated for a moment before replying, "Perhaps we should continue sharing a bed for at least a few more nights." She paused, offering him a cautious smile. "As Ser Bronn said, we are newlyweds, so perhaps we should act accordingly. If that is all right with you?"

Jon glanced at her, surprised by her suggestion. He had been ready to give her space, to allow her whatever comfort she needed after everything she had been through. But hearing her suggest they continue sharing a bed, even if it was just for appearances, struck something deeper in him.

"Of course," Jon replied gently. "If that's what you want, Helena, it's more than alright with me." He tried to keep his voice steady, not wanting to push her or misread her intentions.

Helena gave him a small, tentative smile in return. "It seems like the easiest way to avoid more questions. Appearances matter."

Jon nodded, though a part of him wished this wasn't just about appearances. He didn't want their marriage to be another political alliance built on pretenses. But he knew it would take time for trust to grow between them, especially after the way things had started. If sharing a bed for now meant showing unity to the court, then so be it.

They reached the King's chambers, and Jon moved to open the door, allowing her to enter first. As they stepped into the warmth of the room, Helena immediately moved toward the window, staring out at the darkened garden below.

Jon watched her for a moment, sensing the distance she kept despite their physical closeness. He crossed the room slowly, speaking softly so as not to startle her.

"You don't have to act for my sake. I know this hasn't been easy for you, and I don't expect you to pretend."

Helena turned to him, her expression a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty. "I'm not pretending," she said, though her voice lacked conviction. "I just… I want to do what's right. For both of us."

Jon felt a pang in his chest at her words. He stepped closer, his voice low. "Doing what's right doesn't mean forcing yourself into something you're not ready for. I want you to know that, whether we share a bed or not, you'll always have my respect."

Helena nodded, her eyes softening as she met his gaze. "Thank you, Jon."

As Helena's maids entered to prepare her for bed, Jon stepped out onto the balcony, wanting to give her some privacy. Ghost joined him as he leaned against the railing, gazing up at the night sky. The moon was full, and the sky was dotted with stars.

"Are you planning to howl tonight?" Jon asked, glancing at Ghost. The direwolf huffed in response.

"Wine, Your Grace?" Jon's cupbearer, a young man named Garth, asked, handing him a goblet on a tray. Jon had started drinking much more wine since becoming king, using it to help him relax, to sleep, and to cope with all the stress and grief. After what had happened on his wedding night, he realized the dangerous path he was heading down. Did he really want to end up like Robert Baratheon? He had already harmed his wife in an inexcusable way.

"No, water, please," he replied.

Garth looked clearly surprised. "Water, Your Grace?"

"Yes. Just water from now on."

Jon took the water from Garth with a nod of thanks and sipped it slowly, feeling the cool liquid clear his mind. He gazed out over the darkened landscape, the distant waves of the sea crashing softly against the shore. The decision to avoid the wine was a small one, but it felt like a step in the right direction, a way to avoid falling into the same destructive habits that had plagued kings before him.

Ghost padded over to Jon's side, resting his head on Jon's leg, a quiet and ever-watchful presence. Jon absently scratched behind the direwolf's ears, his thoughts lingering on Helena. She deserved better than the man who had let his emotions and insecurities get the best of him. He had wronged her, and no amount of wine could numb the guilt that gnawed at him.

"Things will get better," he murmured softly, though he wasn't sure if he was speaking to Ghost or trying to convince himself. He had to believe that, with time, he could make things right. He had to find a way to show Helena that he wasn't the man she might fear him to be, that he wasn't going to become the kind of king who let his power and past failures destroy those closest to him.

The sound of the door opening behind him made Jon turn. Helena stood in the doorway, dressed for bed, her expression unreadable as she stepped toward the balcony. The maids had left quietly, and now it was just the two of them again, the weight of the night's unspoken tension settling between them.

"You don't have to stay out here," Helena said softly, her voice carrying a note of uncertainty. "It's cold."

Jon offered her a small, almost hesitant smile. "I was just giving you some privacy."

Helena nodded, though something in her gaze softened as she looked at him, perhaps sensing his effort to be considerate. "Thank you. You can come in now, if you'd like."

Jon followed her back into the room, the warmth of the fire immediately enveloping them. He watched as Helena climbed into bed, her movements slow and deliberate, as if she was still wary of him. He didn't blame her.

"Jon," she said quietly as he sat on his side of the bed, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes?" he replied, turning to face her, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

"I… I want to thank you again for the garden," she continued, her gaze dropping to the quilt beneath her hands. "I can't express how much that meant to me."

Jon was surprised by the softness in her voice. He had expected silence, but her words carried a sincerity that touched him. "I'm glad you like it," he replied gently. "You deserve a place where you can feel at peace."

Helena smiled faintly, her eyes reflecting the warmth of the firelight. "It's more than that. It's a part of my past that I thought I had lost. You gave it back to me." She paused, as if weighing her next words carefully. "I didn't think I'd ever feel that sense of... comfort again."

Jon's heart tightened at the vulnerability in her voice. He wanted to reach out, to offer more than just words, but he knew she wasn't ready for that. Not yet. Instead, he kept his voice low and steady. "I want you to feel like you can build new memories here, without having to let the past control you."

She looked down, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of the blanket. "I hope so too." There was a brief silence before she continued, "Ghost was in the garden with me today. I hope I'm not offending him, but he looked adorable as he sniffed the flowers."

Jon smiled at the unexpected shift in the conversation, his tension easing slightly. "Ghost has a softer side, though I don't think he'd appreciate me saying that out loud," he replied with a quiet chuckle. "He's protective, but he seems to have taken a liking to you."

Helena's smile widened, the first real hint of warmth he'd seen in her all evening. "I wasn't sure at first. When we got married, I thought he might see me as an intruder in your life, but... now, I feel like he's starting to accept me."

"He's a good judge of character," Jon said, his gaze softening. "If Ghost trusts you, it means something."

Helena looked thoughtful, her fingers still tracing absent patterns on the blanket. "It's strange, but I feel more at ease with him than I expected. Animals don't hide their intentions like people do. They just are who they are."

Jon nodded, understanding what she meant. "That's why I trust him. He's loyal without question."

Right on cue, Ghost padded by the bed and claimed his usual spot. Jon rubbed him affectionately behind the ears.

"Do you… do you think he would allow me to pet him?" Helena asked insecurely.

Jon glanced down at Ghost, who was lying calmly at the foot of the bed, his eyes half-closed in contentment. He smiled, then looked back at Helena. "I think he would. Ghost isn't as wild as he looks. He knows you're not a threat."

Helena hesitated for a moment, her fingers nervously fiddling with the edge of the blanket. Then, slowly, she reached out toward Ghost. The direwolf lifted his head, watching her intently but without hostility.

Jon stayed still, not wanting to rush her or make her feel pressured.

Gently, Helena's hand brushed against Ghost's thick white fur. For a moment, her touch was tentative, but when Ghost remained calm, she grew a little bolder, letting her fingers run through his fur. The hint of a smile appeared on her lips as she continued to pet him.

"He's so soft," she whispered, almost in awe.

Jon watched her, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I think he likes you."

Helena's smile grew a little wider, her hand still resting on Ghost's back. "I wasn't sure how he'd react to me, but... he really is gentle."

Jon nodded. "He's not just a protector. He's family."

They fell into a silence for a moment, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the room. Jon watched her, sensing a quiet strength in her that he hadn't fully appreciated before.

As Helena settled back against the pillows, Jon lay beside her.

"Goodnight, Jon," Helena whispered, turning away to settle into the blankets.

"Goodnight, Helena," Jon murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. Though they lay side by side, it felt like they were worlds apart.

Jon stared up at the ceiling, knowing that earning her trust would be a long, uncertain road. But he was willing to wait, however long it took.