The Dragons Heiress (Game of Thrones)

Chapter 4~ Fire

Helena was still damaged. 

Her eyes were red from all the crying, her face pale from not eating... She looked like a living corpse, to be correct. Helena felt weak, and she was weak. 

It had been about a week of a journey to King's landing and Helena could still see how her father had slowly and carefully dragged her away from her brother Jon. How he refused Helena to leave even though little Bran was hurt, without her knowing if he was ever going to wake up... 

Helena felt broken, as if there were no pieces inside of her that could possibly be put together again. The Prince, whom had eventually stopped torturing her with his rude and snotty comments had given her space and had even started talking to her like a real person. 

Sometimes, Helena could even feel Sansa glaring at her, as if wishing her bastard sister would be dead. 

Sitting now, in the carriage that her father was pulling, with Septa Mordane and Arya in the carriage (as Sansa was accompanying the Queen herself) she was wiping tears still. 

"My sweet child," Septa Mordane said, her hand on top of Helena's pale and cold hand. "You must eat something!" But no... Helena refused to eat. If they did not want her to go the Wall, then she would be dying in King's Landing at the stupid castle with the stupid royal family. 

A dead bastard... That's surely something. 

"Please, Lena." Arya said, looking at her sister in a plea. Arya had never been the type to actually ask Helena to do something... But now that she did, Helena felt like she could not refuse her sister. Her hand went for the pies laying there on the little table with a candle. 

Suddenly, out of nowhere, like lightning itself, the candle had dropped. Helena had no idea, but one thing was for sure. The candle was going to hit her with the top, the fire burning through her skin. 

Well, at least that's what she thought when the big candle hit her arm. 

She screamed, naturally, but felt no pain, so she stopped and looked at the candles flames were lingering on her skin for two seconds before Septa Mordane quickly put out the candle with a bit of water. 

The carriage stopped and Septa Mordane immediately took a hold of Helena's arm. 

"By the Gods, that must've burnt you-" Even as father came, looking inside the carriage, Septa kept her mouth shut, confused. Almost stunned. But Helena was, too. 

Even little Arya, whose eyes were bigger than stones, were glaring at Helena's arm.

"What happened?" Ned questioned, looking at Helena's arm in worry. 

"I could've sworn..." Septa Mordane said as she slowly let go of Helena's hand, looking at her with shock and then... fear. 

Helena swore she saw fear in Septa Mordane's eyes, and nothing else but fear. 

"Fire." Septa Mordane whispered. "Your arm should be burnt, but you screamed for no longer than a second."  Helena looked at her father and at Arya. 

She was just about to say something, but before any of them could speak, the other carriages had stopped too. Helena wondered why and started to wonder even more as she had seen a guard coming towards their carriage from the Queens carriage. 

"Father..." Helena whispered, seeing that the guard was looking at Helena. 

"The Quuen wishes your company, milady." the guard said politely, just as Helena took a hold of her fathers hand. Why did the Queen want Helena in her carriage? Why the hell did she want Helena to be there? Was she going to insult her more than she had insulted them all back at Winterfell? 

"Don't worry," Ned said as he squeezed her hand. "She can't hurt you. She wouldn't dare to." 

Helena nodded as she got out of carriage and walked towards the Queens carriage. 

She saw Sansa as she stood right outside the little door to the inside. The Queen was looking at her, softly somehow, and nodded. 

"Come inside, Helena dear."  Helena did as the Queen wished  and sat beside her sister, her heart beating quite viciously. She was not nervous for the purposes of standing in front of the Queen, but more likely afraid that one of them would die. 

The Queen looked at her, observed her, and seemed to be more than pleased. 

"How old are you, Helena?" What? Helena was a bit confused. 

"Eh... 15, my Queen." Cersei Baratheon nodded and her face became serious as ever. It kind of scared Helena, but then again... 

It didn't. 

Cersei may be a Queen, but she could not make any bones in Helena's body fear with death. Helena decided to look Cersei straight in the eyes, lost in her thoughts. 

"Have you been crying, little one?" For a moment, Helena wanted to know how the Queen knew that. But then again, it was clear. Her eyes were swollen, red and flaming because of her tears. Her face was pale as fuck. Of course she had been crying. 

Helena nodded, looking down at her hands which she had formed into a fist. She wanted to punch the Queen, knowing that if she did she'd have at least fifty guards ready to stab her to death. 

"A beautiful lady should not be crying." The Queen suddenly said, which Helena responded with a shot of a glare. 

Helena didn't like the Queen, and Cersei telling her that she suddenly was a lady when only days ago she'd called her a bastard, made her furious. 

"How would you feel about being legitimized?" Legitimized? What the fuck was this about? Was Cersei plotting something?

Helena narrowed her eyes. 

"I think, Lady Stark would kill me."