Chapter 18

"Do you need to take a seat, Your Grace?" Marla asked, her concern evident.

"No, thank you, I'm fine," Helena replied, her attention fixed on her painting.

"Are you hungry? Please, have some fruit, Your Grace. The Maester said you should eat more," Marla insisted gently, holding out a tray.

Helena smiled at her handmaiden's earnestness. "Thank you, Marla," she said, plucking a couple of grapes from the tray. "The Maester also suggested I get some fresh air."

"I know, Your Grace," Marla said softly, "but I worry you're pushing yourself too hard. The visit to the orphanage yesterday and now this…"

Helena's tone remained reassuring. "I appreciate your concern, but I'm being careful. I'm not overexerting myself. I just… I'd really like to finish this painting."

"Of course, Your Grace. It's beautiful," Marla said, glancing at the artwork.

"Thank you." Helena paused, her gaze shifting to the painted flowers. "I'd like to send this to His Grace's cousin, Queen Sansa."

She had initially thought of painting a scene of King's Landing but quickly realized Sansa would likely not want a reminder of the place that had brought her so much suffering.

"Helena?" Tyrion's voice called out suddenly, pulling her attention away from the painting.

She turned to greet her uncle with a warm smile. "Uncle Tyrion. What brings you here?"

"Can't a man visit his niece without an agenda?" Tyrion quipped, his tone light.

"Of course he can," Helena assured. "I'm always glad to see you."

"My lord," Marla greeted him with a curtsy. Tyrion inclined his head politely in response.

"Would you excuse us? You can leave the tray," he said.

Marla curtsied again, setting the tray on the table before leaving.

"You wouldn't happen to have any wine, would you?" Tyrion asked hopefully.

Helena laughed softly. "I'm afraid not. Only water."

Tyrion sighed theatrically. "Water? How dreary." He picked up an apple from the tray and sat down. "Well then, please, join me."

Helena set her brushes aside and took the seat opposite him. The table and chairs had been arranged under the sunshade in the garden, the tranquil setting interrupted only by the distant chirping of birds.

"How are you?" Tyrion asked casually, though his eyes glimmered with curiosity.

"I'm fine, thank you. And you, Uncle?"

"The usual, balancing court politics with the occasional glass of wine. Nothing extraordinary." He took a bite of the apple before leaning forward slightly. "Anything new with you?"

Helena immediately sensed what he was hinting at. "You know, don't you?"

"Know what?" Tyrion asked innocently, though his smirk gave him away.

Helena sighed, lowering her gaze. "You know." She hesitated. "I haven't told anyone else yet because… because there are risks."

Tyrion's playful demeanor faded, his brow furrowing. "Risks?"

She nodded, her hand instinctively resting on her stomach. "The Maester said the pregnancy could be fragile because of my… condition. Because I'm thin, and my body hasn't fully recovered from the years of poor nourishment."

"I see," Tyrion said softly, his tone unusually serious. "And Jon?"

"I've asked him not to tell anyone until we're sure the babe is safe," she admitted, her voice quiet. "I don't want to disappoint him, or anyone, if…" She trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

"You wouldn't be disappointing anyone," Tyrion said firmly. "Least of all Jon. He adores you, and I can't imagine him seeing this as anything but a blessing. Risks or not."

Helena looked at her uncle, her eyes glistening with gratitude at his reassurance.

"Thank you, uncle," she whispered. "Jon has been more than considerate, and I'm beyond grateful for his kindness."

Tyrion snorted, attempting to lighten the mood. "He'd better be considerate," he quipped. "That's his child you're carrying."

Tyrion leaned back in his chair, his sharp eyes studying her intently. "You know," he began, swirling the untouched apple in his hand as if it were a goblet of wine, "you shouldn't keep everything bottled up, Helena. I understand wanting to shield Jon, but he's your husband. And more than that, he's stubborn as a mule when it comes to the people he cares about."

Helena smiled faintly. "I know. He's been nothing but supportive, and I truly don't deserve him."

Tyrion raised an eyebrow. "Nonsense. If anything, he's the one who should be thinking he doesn't deserve you. Don't let anyone, yourself included, convince you otherwise."

Helena's fingers brushed over the edge of the table as she considered his words. "It's just… I feel like this child is the first step toward building something better, something brighter for us both. But the thought of losing it…" She trailed off, her voice trembling slightly.

Tyrion's voice softened, his usual sarcasm replaced with genuine warmth. "Fear is natural, especially when you care as deeply as you do. But you're stronger than you give yourself credit for, Helena. And if this child truly is a gift from the gods, I can't imagine a better mother to raise it."

Her gaze flickered to him, touched by his sincerity. "You really think so?"

"I know so," he replied without hesitation. Then, with a small smirk, he added, "But I will admit, I'm already a little jealous of this child. I've grown used to being your favorite family member."

Helena laughed softly, her tension easing. "You'll always be my favorite uncle."

"Good. That's settled then." He tossed the apple onto the tray and leaned forward, his expression lightening. "Now, tell me: when the time comes, may I be the one to teach the little one to drink and gamble?"

Helena rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smile. "Absolutely not."

"Ah, you wound me," Tyrion said dramatically, though the twinkle in his eye revealed his amusement. "At least let me give them their first history lesson, then. Someone has to make sure the child knows what sort of world they're inheriting."

Helena shook her head, still smiling. "You'll have plenty of time to be a bad influence, uncle. Just not too much of one."

Tyrion chuckled, raising an imaginary goblet in a mock toast. "To that, I'll drink. Water, if I must. But only for today."

"Is the Queen in my chamber?" Jon asked as he marched down the corridor.

"Yes, Your Grace," a servant replied.

"Has she eaten?"

"Yes, Your Grace. Her Grace's dinner was delivered to your chamber, as you requested."

"Good," Jon sighed. His day had been longer than he'd anticipated, and he was eager to see Helena. As usual, he instructed the guards not to disturb him tonight.

When he opened the door, he noticed that his chamber had already been prepared for the night. Candles were lit, casting a soft glow, and the bed was turned down. Helena sat at the table, reading a book, while Ghost lay curled on the floor beside her. She looked up and smiled warmly as he entered the room.

"Hello, Jon." She stood, closing her book. "Please, sit. You must be tired."

Jon's eyes widened when he noticed her nightgown. It was sleeveless, and the fabric was so light he could almost see through it. "What… what are you wearing?" he managed to ask.

Helena blushed and instinctively wrapped her arms around herself. "Oh… I've been feeling very hot lately, so I asked the seamstress to make me a couple of lighter nightgowns. But if you don't like it…"

"I do," he interrupted, staring at her with unabashed admiration. "You look… amazing."

"Thank you."

"I'd very much like to take a closer look."

Helena let out a soft giggle. "My king is welcome to look as much as he wants."

Jon closed the distance between them, his eyes never leaving hers. His expression softened as he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair from her face. "You're stunning, Helena. But it's not just the nightgown, it's you."

Helena's blush deepened, and she looked down shyly. "You're too kind, Jon."

"I'm not kind; I'm honest," he murmured, his voice low and filled with warmth. He stepped closer, his hands lightly resting on her arms. "I've missed you today."

"I missed you too," she replied softly, meeting his gaze. "How was your day?"

Jon sighed, the weight of his duties momentarily surfacing in his expression. "Long. But being here with you makes it better."

He took her hands and guided her to sit beside him on the edge of the bed. Ghost, sensing their intimacy, got up and padded quietly to a corner of the room, curling up there with a huff.

Helena's lips twitched into a small smile as she watched the direwolf settle. "He's giving us some privacy."

"Smart creature," Jon said, chuckling softly. Then his expression grew more serious as he turned back to her, his thumb tracing small circles over her hand. "Helena, how are you feeling? Really?"

Her smile faltered slightly, but she quickly composed herself. "I'm well. Tired at times, but that's to be expected. The Maester says everything is as it should be."

Jon studied her carefully, his brow furrowing. "If you ever feel unwell, promise me you'll tell me immediately."

"I promise," she said, her voice steady but filled with emotion. "I'll take care of myself, Jon. For both of us. For the child."

He exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing as he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. "That's all I ask."

For a moment, they sat in comfortable silence, their hands intertwined. Then Jon's lips quirked into a teasing smile. "But about this nightgown…"

Helena raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eye. "Yes?"

"I think you've ruined me for sleep," he confessed, his tone lighthearted but sincere. "How am I supposed to rest when you're wearing something like this?"

Helena let out a soft laugh, the sound easing the last of the tension between them. "I suppose I'll have to take responsibility for that."

Jon leaned closer, his breath warm against her cheek. "Then perhaps you should stay up with me for a while longer."

Helena smiled. "As my king commands." She hesitated for a moment before continuing. "We can… If you want… I asked and the Maester said there shouldn't be a problem as long as you're careful with my stomach."

Jon froze for a moment, his eyes widening slightly as he processed her words. Then, his expression softened into one of tender understanding. He reached up to gently cradle her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing lightly over her cheeks.

"Helena," he murmured, his voice warm and steady. "I would never do anything to harm you or the child. But if you're sure you're comfortable…"

Her cheeks flushed a deeper pink, but she met his gaze with quiet confidence. "I trust you, Jon."

Jon's lips curved into a faint smile as he leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, then to her lips. There was no denying how much he wanted her.

"As much as I love this nightgown," he murmured. "I still prefer seeing you without it."

Helena's breath caught in her throat, her blush deepening at Jon's boldness. Yet, the warmth in his gaze and the tenderness in his actions reassured her. She let out a soft laugh, her fingers brushing against his jaw. "You're full of surprises tonight," she teased gently.

Jon chuckled, setting her down carefully on the bed as though she were the most delicate treasure. "You bring it out in me," he admitted, his voice low but filled with affection. His fingers brushed over her arm lightly, trailing down to her hand as he intertwined their fingers. "But if at any moment you feel uneasy, tell me. Promise me."

"I promise," Helena said softly, her eyes meeting his. She reached up to touch his face, her thumb tracing the strong line of his jaw.

He bent down to kiss her again, this time slower, savoring the moment.

"Jon!" she protested as he suddenly tore her nightgown in half. "The seamstress just finished this today!"

"I'm sorry," he chuckled, his tone unapologetically playful. "I couldn't resist." He paused and planted a soft kiss on her chest. "Forgive me. I'll have a new one made for you. As many new ones as you want."

Helena couldn't help but laugh softly. "I suppose I can forgive you, this time."

Jon smirked, leaning down to kiss her again, his lips brushing hers with a mix of playfulness and tenderness. "Good. I'd hate to be on my queen's bad side."

"You'd better remember that," she quipped, her fingers threading through his dark hair. Her playful tone faded as her gaze softened. "But really, Jon… You're too good to me."

"I could say the same about you," Jon replied, his voice earnest. He ran his thumb gently along her cheek, marveling at her beauty.

She giggled softly as he planted tender kisses all over her neck and chest.

"You have no idea how much I want you," he murmured as his hands gently caressed her body. "My queen…"

She gasped as he gently spread her legs open and planted a few teasing kisses on her inner thigh before tasting her. Hearing her soft moans, feeling her giving herself to him completely, always affected him the same way. He needed to have her.

He had been careful not to hurt her, but as she had become more and more accustomed to his body, he had allowed himself to let slip the reins and lose himself into the pleasure her body was offering him. Not this time though. He needed to make sure that he wouldn't harm her or the child. He was gentle as he pushed into her, making sure that he was aware of her reactions the whole time.

"Helena," he panted, caressing her cheek with his fingers. "Is this alright?"

She nodded. "I'm alright. I promise."

He closed his eyes and kept thrusting into her, his movements careful and controlled.

"Helena…"

Finally, he let out a groan, finishing inside of her. As soon as his bliss started to fade, his attention was fully on Helena.

"Everything alright?" he asked, planting a tender kiss on her forehead.

"I'm alright," she assured, giving him a smile.

Carefully, he rolled on his back beside her and took her small hand in his.

Jon squeezed Helena's hand gently, his thumb brushing over her fingers in a soothing motion. He turned his head to look at her, his expression soft but watchful. "You'll tell me if anything feels wrong, won't you?"

Helena nodded, her smile reassuring. "I will, I promise." She nestled closer to him, resting her head against his shoulder. "You're always so careful with me."

His other hand came to rest protectively over her stomach. "Of course."

She traced absent patterns on his chest with her fingers, her mind drifting into quiet thoughts. They stayed like that for a while until she kissed his chest softly and began to carefully stand. "I'll go and wash up; I'll be right back." She paused, frowning as she picked up the shredded remains of her nightgown. "And it seems I have nothing to wear."

"I'm not complaining," Jon hummed, turning onto his side with a sly grin. "On the contrary, I find the view quite enjoyable."

Helena shook her head, letting out a soft laugh. "I expect to have that new nightgown soon."

Jon smirked, his eyes glinting with playful mischief as he propped himself up on one elbow. "Consider it done. I'll have the seamstress make ten more if that's what it takes to keep you happy."

Helena arched an eyebrow, her lips curving into a teasing smile. "Good. And let her know this time that I'll need something a little sturdier."

Jon chuckled, catching her hand as she turned to leave. "Sturdier, perhaps. But not too modest. I've grown rather fond of this… style."

Helena's cheeks flushed a delicate pink, making her look even more radiant. Jon tugged her closer for a quick kiss. "Hurry back."

She shook her head with a soft laugh, gathering the remnants of her gown before disappearing into the bathing chamber. Left alone, Jon lay back, his gaze drifting to the ceiling as a warm sense of contentment settled over him.

The sound of Helena returning made him turn his head, but his brows furrowed when he saw her wearing one of his tunics. It hung loose on her small frame, the hem brushing her thighs.

"Who said you could take that?" he asked, his tone mock-stern.

She stopped in her tracks, her eyes widening at his tone. "It… It was in the bathing chamber," she murmured. "I'm sorry. I'll put it back…"

"No, no, Helena, I was joking," he cut in quickly, sitting up.

"Oh… I shouldn't have taken it. Not without… asking."

Jon swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, approaching Helena slowly as though not to startle her further. He placed his hands gently on her shoulders, his gaze warm and filled with regret. "Helena, you don't need to ask to take anything of mine. Ever. Especially not something as simple as a tunic."

She looked up at him, her expression still uncertain. "I just didn't want to overstep. It's yours, and…"

"It's ours," Jon interrupted softly. "What's mine is yours. My clothes, my chambers, my time, everything. You're my wife, Helena. My queen."

Her shoulders relaxed slightly under his touch, though her cheeks remained flushed. "I suppose I look ridiculous in it."

Jon's lips curved into a faint smile as he stepped back to take her in fully. "Ridiculous? Hardly," he murmured. "Though I might find it hard to concentrate when you're wearing it."

Her blush deepened, but this time a small smile tugged at her lips. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"It is," he assured her, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Though I'll admit, you're making it difficult for me to let you sleep tonight."

Helena let out a soft laugh, her earlier tension easing away. "Perhaps we should both try to get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day."

Jon's brows furrowed slightly, his concern evident. "You're not pushing yourself too hard, are you? You're getting enough rest?"

Helena's smile softened, her eyes meeting his. "I promise, Jon. I've been resting."

Jon's expression softened, but his concern didn't entirely fade. "Good. The Maester said rest is important, especially now." He reached out, taking her hand in his. "Promise me you'll tell me if you're feeling tired or overwhelmed. I don't want you pushing yourself too hard."

"I promise," Helena said, squeezing his hand gently. "You worry too much, Jon."

"I can't help it," he admitted.

Her smile warmed, and she leaned into him, resting her head against his chest. "I know, and I'm grateful for your concern. But you need rest too, my king. If you keep fretting over me, you'll wear yourself out."

Jon chuckled softly, wrapping his arms around her. "You're probably right. Though I'll admit, it's not easy to stop worrying."

"Then let me take care of you tonight," she murmured, tilting her head to look up at him.

Jon blinked, caught off guard by her words. "You've already done more than enough for me."

"Maybe," she said with a smile. "But I think I can do more. Let's start by getting you to bed."

He smiled as he allowed her to guide him back toward the bed. "I'm not used to taking orders," he quipped, his voice light. "But I think I'll make an exception for you."

"Good," Helena replied, her tone playful. "Because this is one order you'll thank me for."

As they settled in the bed, Jon felt his body begin to unwind. The weight of the day seemed to lift with Helena's warmth beside him. Just as he teetered on the edge of sleep, her soft, drowsy voice broke through the quiet.

"Jon, stop, that tickles."

His brow furrowed in confusion, and he opened his eyes groggily. "What?"

Turning his head, he was met with the sight of Ghost standing on the bed, his large nose carefully nuzzling against Helena's stomach.

Jon chuckled softly, reaching out to pat Ghost's head. "I think he's curious," he said, his voice tinged with amusement.

Helena let out a quiet laugh, her hand instinctively resting on her stomach. "Do you think he knows?"

"Animals are perceptive," Jon said, his tone thoughtful as he scratched behind Ghost's ear. "Maybe he senses something. Or maybe he's just being nosy."

Ghost let out a soft huff, his red eyes watching Helena intently. She reached out to gently stroke his fur, and he seemed to settle, lying down near her with his head resting lightly on her stomach.

"See?" Jon said with a grin. "He's already protecting you both."

Helena smiled, her fingers combing through Ghost's snowy fur. "He's sweet. Though I suppose I'll have to get used to him being so close."

"You'll never find a better guardian," Jon assured, his hand resting over hers. "Ghost knows what's important to me."