Chapter 4

3 days ago

Helena was tense and nervous as she cautiously looked outside through the window of the carriage. It had been so long since she had sat in a carriage. The movement still felt somehow calming; she had always enjoyed traveling. Right now, she didn't enjoy it, though. She would have preferred staying in the Red Keep.

"It's alright," Tyrion stated calmingly. "You're safe, I promise."

Helena bit her bottom lip; she was ashamed of herself for being so weak. She didn't even want to imagine what people were saying about her after she had fainted in the middle of the corridor. Mena had assured her that she hadn't said anything to anyone, but Helena wasn't so sure about the guards. Her reaction to them had been ridiculous, but she hadn't been able to stop the panic.

What had happened in the tower… No. She wasn't going to think about it ever again. It had never happened. Thankfully, she had pulled herself together during the last couple of days and managed to meet people, including men. Uncle Tyrion had been with her the whole time; she wasn't sure if she would have succeeded without him.

All the people she had met had been very polite to her, and they had said they were glad she was unharmed. No one had said anything about the tower, but Helena was sure they knew where she had been. She had wandered across the hallways of the Red Keep, hoping to see someone she knew. Everything was so familiar, and yet nothing was the same.

Her family was gone. Sweet little Tommen and dear Myrcella… Helena had gone to their old chambers, knowing that they weren't there. Yet some part of her had prayed for a miracle. She, out of all people, should know better than to believe in miracles. Nothing was the same, and it never would be. She was a guest in the place she used to call her home.

Not that she should complain. Better a guest than a prisoner. Or dead. She should be grateful to the new king. Most men in his position would have surely executed her. She hadn't met him yet, but she would tonight. Tyrion had said that the King had asked to see her. She couldn't deny that the meeting made her nervous, although her uncle had assured her that she had nothing to worry about.

"Could you tell me where we are going?" she asked after a moment of silence.

"As I said, there's something I want to show you," Tyrion replied.

"Where is that something?"

"Not far."

Helena looked at Tyrion, searching his face for clues. He remained impassive, his expression giving nothing away. She looked outside and saw the signs of battle everywhere: destroyed houses, soldiers, beggars…

"Where are all the people who have lost their homes?" she asked.

"We have tried to arrange shelter for them," Tyrion replied. "But as you can see, there is still a lot of work to do."

"Yes," Helena murmured. Once again, she felt ashamed of herself for complaining. There were so many people who had suffered much more than she had.

The carriage continued its journey, the landscape of King's Landing passing by in a blur. Helena's mind wandered to the upcoming meeting with the King. She had heard whispers about Jon Targaryen. Would he be like his foster father, Eddard Stark, whom she remembered with fondness? Or would he be a stern ruler, hardened by the war?

The carriage finally came to a halt.

"Alright, here we are," Tyrion said and opened the door.

Cautiously, Helena stood up and followed him. She flinched when a guard offered her his hand in order to help her out of the carriage. Thankfully, she controlled herself quickly and managed to take his hand.

"Thank you," she murmured, unable to face him. Instead, she looked at the old, sleazy house in front of her.

"What… What is this place?"

"Let's go inside," Tyrion replied and headed to the door.

Helena wanted to protest, but she followed him. An old woman opened the door and bowed to Tyrion.

"My lord."

"Good morning," Tyrion replied and waved his hand toward Helena. "This is my niece, Lady Helena Baratheon. Helena, this is Septa Norda."

"My lady," the old woman greeted her.

"Honor to meet you," Helena replied. She was very confused; she couldn't understand what they were doing here.

"Please, come in," Septa Norda stated.

Helena noticed a wagon that had followed their carriage. It was full of sacks and baskets. Meat, bread, vegetables, potatoes… The guards began carrying the food inside.

"Helena?" Tyrion called. "Come inside."

Quickly, she turned to the door and joined her uncle.

"What is…" she started, but didn't finish her sentence as she saw what was inside. Children. Countless children. Some of them were sitting on the floor, others lying on blankets. They were so small; most of them probably hadn't even celebrated their eighth nameday.

"This is an orphanage," Tyrion said. "All these children have lost their parents in the war."

Helena's heart clenched as she took in the sight. The children's faces were dirty and gaunt, their eyes wide with a mix of curiosity and fear. A few of them looked up at her with expressions that made her want to cry. She had been so caught up in her own misery that she had forgotten how much worse it could be for others.

"Why did you bring me here?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"Because I thought it was time you saw that you still have the power to make a difference," Tyrion replied gently. "You may have suffered, but you have the ability to help those who are suffering even more."

Helena looked around the room again, her eyes lingering on the smallest of the children, a little girl clutching a ragged doll to her chest. She took a deep breath and nodded.

"Tell me what I can do," she said.

Tyrion smiled. "That's the spirit. For now, we can start by distributing the food and making sure everyone has what they need."

Helena nodded again and followed Tyrion as he began organizing the distribution of the supplies. As she handed out bread and vegetables to the children, she felt a sense of purpose she hadn't felt in a long time. These children needed her, and she was determined to help them in any way she could.

Nine hours later, they were finally heading back to the Red Keep. Tyrion could easily see that Helena was tired, but he believed that this day had truly opened her eyes. It was her duty to help the people. Help Jon retain peace. She could do that, and Tyrion was determined to make sure that she would.

"War is a terrible thing," he stated after a long silence.

"Yes," Helena murmured.

"We must do everything we can for peace."

"I agree."

Tyrion hesitated for a moment before continuing.

"Helena… about tonight…"

She didn't say anything, but he noticed her tensing.

"The King will propose to you tonight."

Helena pressed her lips together and kept her eyes on the window.

"He hasn't even met me. What if my appearance doesn't please him?"

"I'm sure it will. He wants to do what's best for his people, and he needs your help. Will you say yes to him?"

Helena was quiet for a long while. Tyrion couldn't tell what she was thinking.

"Yes, uncle," she finally murmured. "I will say yes to him."

Tyrion nodded, relieved. "Good. You will be a great queen, Helena. Your kindness and strength are exactly what the people need."

Jon took a sip from his wine goblet, eyeing the table in the small dining hall. Everything was ready for dinner; Tyrion and Lady Helena should arrive soon. This had felt like the proper place for the first meeting with his soon-to-be bride, but now Jon hesitated. Was he really planning to propose to a stranger?

Of course, he understood the sacrifices all kings had to make, but this… He couldn't believe he had actually agreed to it. Tyrion had assured him that he was doing the right thing, and deep down, Jon knew that too. The right thing for the kingdom. What was right for him personally didn't matter. He needed a wife, and as much as he would have liked to postpone the decision, he understood that he really couldn't do that.

Many lords, merchants, and other wealthy and powerful men had already approached him, offering their daughters, sisters, or nieces as potential wives or mistresses. Even a couple of servant girls had offered themselves, hoping to earn a place in his bed. The whole situation made Jon uncomfortable, and that was one of the reasons why he had decided to wed Lady Helena.

The marriage would be beneficial, allowing Jon to avoid the persistent advances of ambitious men and women. Of course, he needed the lady's consent first, even though Tyrion had assured him that she would say yes. Jon had glimpsed her in the garden two days ago while she was walking with her uncle. Neither of them had noticed Jon; he had been standing on the balcony, observing Lady Helena.

Jon couldn't deny that seeing her had influenced his decision. As Tyrion had described, she was a pretty young woman with a round face, long dark brown hair, and green eyes. Although she was quite short, she had a womanly figure. There was nothing wrong with her appearance, and Jon believed he could share a bed with her. Hopefully, she would feel the same way about him.

"Your Grace," a servant announced, interrupting Jon's thoughts. "Lord Tyrion and Lady Helena have arrived."

"Good," Jon murmured, rising from his seat. "Good. Show them in."

"Yes, Your Grace."

Jon instinctively touched his hair and cleared his throat. Since becoming King, he hadn't paid much attention to his appearance, but tonight he had made an effort to look presentable. His personal servant, Jareth, had shaved him and combed his hair after a much-needed bath.

Jon wore a dark blue tunic, tailored specifically for him. Tyrion had arranged a new wardrobe fit for a king. This was another detail Jon had never considered before; he hadn't needed to think about his clothes when he was just Jon Snow. But now, with his role as king, it was important to make a proper impression when meeting nobles.

"Your Grace," Tyrion greeted Jon as he and Lady Helena entered the room. "May I present my niece, Lady Helena Baratheon."

She kept her eyes on the floor as she curtsied.

"Your Grace," she said quietly. Most of her long hair was down, and she wore a light purple gown that accentuated her curves, especially her bosom. She was indeed a pretty girl.

Jon walked over to her and touched her small hand briefly with his lips.

"My lady. I'm glad to finally meet you."

"I am honored to meet you, Your Grace," she replied. She still wasn't looking at him, and he could sense her nervousness. Well, most women would likely be nervous in a situation like this.

"Please," he said, gesturing towards the table.

"Thank you," she said as he pulled out a chair for her.

Jon's place was at the end of the table, and hers was next to him. Tyrion sat on Jon's other side and thanked a servant who poured him wine. As they settled in, Jon found himself studying Helena's face. Despite her small smile, her nervousness was evident.

"I hope you have found your accommodation here satisfactory," Jon said, trying to ease into the conversation.

"I have, Your Grace," Helena replied. "I cannot express how grateful I am for your generosity."

"This is your home, my lady," Jon replied. "That hasn't changed."

She blinked a few times nervously before replying.

"Thank you, Your Grace."

Jon wasn't sure how to continue, feeling his own nervousness rising.

"We had quite a day," Tyrion stated, trying to fill the awkward silence. "Helena and I went to the orphanage today."

"Oh," Jon murmured.

"Yes, poor little things. I was thinking that Helena could start aiding them on my behalf; I have so much work to do. Someone needs to organize the food deliveries and other things."

"Sure, that sounds good," Jon replied and looked at Lady Helena. "Is that what you want, my lady?"

"Yes, Your Grace," Helena said quietly, her eyes fixed on her wine goblet.

Jon nodded, trying to ease the tension. "I'm sure you'll do a fine job, my lady. The children need someone who cares about them."

Helena managed a small smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Thank you, Your Grace. I will do my best."

The meal began, and for a while, the three of them ate in silence. Jon noticed that Helena barely touched her food, occasionally taking small bites but mostly pushing it around on her plate. Deciding to break the silence, he spoke up.

"Tyrion tells me you enjoy painting," Jon said, hoping to find a topic that might help her relax.

Helena looked up, her eyes meeting his for the first time since she had entered the room. "Yes, Your Grace, I did…I mean, I do."

"That sounds nice. What do you like to paint?"

Helena hesitated, then replied, "Mostly sceneries, Your Grace."

Jon nodded. "I would love to see some of your work."

"Oh… I…"

Tyrion chimed in, "Helena is quite talented. I'm sure she would be happy to show you some of her paintings, Your Grace."

"Yes, of course," Helena murmured. "I would be happy to do that, Your Grace."

Clearly, Lady Helena wasn't very talkative. She had changed a lot since Jon had met her in Winterfell. Of course, she had, she had been a prisoner for years.

"Oh no," Tyrion gasped, quickly standing up. "I forgot there's something I must attend to. Please excuse me; I will be right back."

Jon almost rolled his eyes as Tyrion left the room. How subtle.

"The stew is wonderful," Lady Helena said after a moment of silence.

"Aye. The southern food isn't so bad."

"What is northern food like, Your Grace?"

"Simpler," Jon replied. "Many things in the North are simpler than here."

"I see. You have a heavy burden to bear."

"As we all do."

They sat in silence for a long while before Jon finally spoke again.

"I trust your uncle told you why I invited you here?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

Jon took a deep breath, carefully choosing his next words. "Then you understand the significance of what I am about to propose."

Helena nodded slightly, her expression composed but her eyes betraying her nervousness. "I do, Your Grace."

Jon leaned forward. "The realm needs stability now more than ever. I believe that by uniting our houses, we can bring that stability. I am asking for your hand in marriage, Lady Helena."

Helena looked down, her fingers tracing the rim of her goblet. "I understand the importance of this union, Your Grace. I accept your proposal, and I will do my best to serve you and the realm."

Jon nodded. "Thank you, my lady. Your strength and willingness mean a great deal to me."

Just then, Tyrion re-entered the room, a satisfied smile on his face. "I trust everything went well in my absence?"

Jon nodded. "Yes, Tyrion. Lady Helena has agreed to the proposal."

Tyrion's smile widened. "Excellent news! To King Jon and Queen Helena, then."

The rest of the dinner passed quickly, with Tyrion engaging in most of the conversation.

As the evening drew to a close, Jon escorted Helena to her chambers. Standing at the door, he paused and looked into her eyes. "Thank you for your trust, my lady. I promise to do everything in my power to make this work."

Helena nodded and gave a small smile. "And I, Your Grace."

"You may call me Jon, since we are to be married."

"Thank you… Jon. And you may call me Helena."

He nodded and briefly touched her hand with his lips.

"Good night, Helena."