Blood of Fire Chapter Four Jacaerys Velaryon x Servant Reader
Chapter Summary: Helyn tells you about her past, and The Princes make a new friend.
Additional Tags: @number-0-iz @akinatrix
Warnings: None
Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem Reader
Gifs: More Helyn and little Jace
Chapter 4
“My mother died giving birth to me,” Helyn explained over breakfast the next morning. “Her name was Alys, Or so I’ve been told.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” She pauses to wipe her fingers on her apron, before grabbing another piece of bacon. “It’s not like I knew her. Or my father either, no one ever told me about him. I highly doubt anyone even knows who he is. He could be a lord, or a rat catcher, or dead for all I know.”
You set down your spoon to ponder it all. What must it be like to have no father or mother? You had been so close to your own parents, it was unfathomable to imagine.
“But your mother was a maid here?” You finally say.
“Aye, a kitchen wench apparently. She washed all the dishes, scrubbed all the floors, fetched all the ingredients, even prepared some of the meals herself. She did such a good job, Lady Jeyne felt inclined to take me in and train me in the fine art of servitude!” She laughed, before shoving another spoonful of porridge into her mouth.
“How old were you?”
She stops to swallow before answering.
“I was six the first time I came to Dragonstone. Eight when I first began my duties.”
Six? That seemed so young. What had you been doing at six? Minor fieldwork with your family, and playing with the other village children?
“Were you the only child?”
“That first year, yes. It was desperately lonely. You may laugh, I made up my own friends in my head when I played by myself. That, or I would wander around the castle and make up stories. You can probably guess how put off a lot of people were when they stumbled into a child, walking around and talking to herself.”
You did not laugh, actually finding it quite sad. Your mind conjures images of a young, sad looking Helyn. Aimless, the little girl paces back and forth muttering gibberish. Lost and alone and aching for a friend.
“The next four years were bearable though,” She continued cheerily. “I did make friends with two others my age. Dayle, a stableboy, and a new maid named Maude. Like you, she started training at eight and played with me when lessons were over.”
“And where are they now?”
“Well, Dayle is still a stableboy. Of course he grew bored playing with girls. So when he isn’t spending time with his mules and his horses, he’s with other serving men and grooms. And Maude…”
Her eyes flit away to focus on the ground. For the first time she looks unsure, uncomfortable even.
“And Maude?” You prod, gently.
“She… died last Winter.”
You let that sink in. Even just hearing of it shocked you.
“How old was she?”
“She would have been ten, if she held out until Spring.”
There’s a long stretch of silence between you. It must have been so awful, to lose a close friend you could finally call your own. Not only to bond with them for four years- a substantial period of time in your mind- but to suddenly have them stripped away…
“That is horrible. The Gods can be cruel…” It’s something you heard adults say often, especially at funerals.
You could remember when little Tom, the youngest son of the local crofter, was crushed beneath a plow and died two days later. Your father had held you close the night when he broke the news.
You did not know Tom very well, he just being a toddler, but it was still strange to you.
“Papa, I thought only old people should die?” You had asked.
That only made him pull you closer, “That isn’t always the case Y/N. All sorts of people die. Young, old, weak or strong. The Gods work in strange mysterious ways when they choose our fate for us…Perhaps they thought Tom was too good for this world.”
You had gone with your parents when they took Tom away- his body bundled in a sack and hurled onto a burial cart. Those agonizing screams the crofter's wife had made, you could remember as clear as day.
You did not know how to react, you were still so stunned… You could only watch as the cart dashed away, and Tom's mother collapsed to the ground hysterically howling in pain.
Did Helyn scream like that when Maude died? You wonder, Did she even get to say goodbye?
“What- what took her?”
Helyn shakes her head, fixating back on her plate.
“The shakes. I caught it too. And so did the footmen, and the cooks, Lady Jeyne, and Maester Raff… We all caught it. For a fortnight the castle sealed its gates shut to stop the spread. I thought we were all done for. Then…”
“You recovered?”
“Aye, we recovered. One day, I was in and out of it- jumping from this world to the next. The fever was bad, but trying to breathe was worse. Then the next thing I knew, one of the older maids was feeding me and telling me my fever had broken. That in a day's time, I could be on my feet again… But not all of us made it.”
“Did you see her before she…”
“Died? No. She died while I was still asleep. I didn’t get to see her off either. All those who died were brought to the training yard and burned as soon as possible, to prevent any contamination. After that, their ashes were thrown into the sea.”
You reach out, and squeeze her hand in yours. She squeezes back playfully.
“I was sad, for a while I admit. Then I thought; Maude would hate the lumpy dumpy lowly sack of shlump I’d become. I was slacking in my duties, which old Jeyne did not appreciate, and despised the things I used to love. It all hit me then; I could die any day, just like Maude, and I would die angry and unloved! What kind of a life is that?”
She finished her food in one giant spoonful, before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
“I learned to love everything I have now! Yes the days are long, and the work can be hard… But I have a roof over my head! Food on my plate! A little time to make my own fun! Good company-” She pinches both your cheeks, making you yelp and smack her away.
“And I get to live another day! What more could one want?”
“Do you miss her?”
She thinks a moment, then shrugs. “Sometimes. I try not to think about her too much, I don’t want to turn into that lazy miserable oaf again. Besides,”
She wraps her arms around your shoulders.
“I’ve got you now don’t I? So you better not go dying on me.”
~*~*~
That evening, yet again, you were summoned to The Eastern Courtyard.
“You summoned us, My Princes?”
“Yes. Y/N, Helyn, this is Glen. He’s the new apprentice to the armorer.”
Slightly hidden behind Jace’s frame, there is a small redheaded boy. He must be a year or so younger than you, with a freckled face and clothes two sizes too big for him. He’s so scrawny, is your first thought. Quickly followed by, he’s so nervous.
You approach him and offer your hand, like how you used to greet other children back home.
“I’m Y/N. That’s Helyn.”
He does take your hand, eventually, and you feel how cold and clammy his palm is. Before he drops the hold as if he had been shocked by your touch.
Has he ever met a girl before? You wonder.
“So Glen, you do speak don’t you?” Helyn teases, and you shoot her a look.
“He does!” Lucerys says, missing Helyn’s sarcasm. “We spoke in the stables this morning when we met! He’s from Trawlers Town ya know?”
Jace scoffs at that, yanking Luke back to his side.
“It’s ‘Did you know’ not ‘Ya know?’ What would mother think if she heard you talking like that? You desperately need to work on your grammar, before the Ladies and Gentlemen come.”
Your ears perk up at that, enough to take your attention away from the small boy before you. Lady Jeyne had made mention of such plans, but kept the details vague. Perhaps the Princes knew more, and were willing to share such details.
“So there are more nobles coming? Where from? When?”
“Maester Raff made the dispatchments today. He says we can expect up to three new squires, and ten Gentlemen from The Crownlands and The Stormlands. Mother only wanted Ladies from the houses Velaryon, Celtigar, Stokeworth, Darklyn and Baratheon. We do not know who will accept the offer, but all will be set in two months' time.”
Lady Jeyne had sworn your training would be finished in time for the nobles' arrival. Now you had an idea of what to expect. You longed to join the other maids, and serve alongside them. Not that you resented Lady Jeyne in any way, but it was still quite isolating to be set apart from the others. To be separated.
“I pray we aren’t overwhelmed,” Helyn says, “Summer will end soon and resources may be tight.”
“Maester Raff says we have enough goods stored to last a ten year Winter.” Jace corrects, “We should all pray the coming Lords don’t have the appetite of a ten year Winter.”
You all chuckle at that, except for Glen of course.
“So Glen,” You begin, “What did you do for fun in Trawlers Town?”
The pale boy keeps his eyes downcast when he answers you. Even his voice was small.
“We fished… And tied nets… And built boats-”
“Fascinating.” Helyn interjects, “Did you play with the other children there at all?”
Glen nodded slightly, looking up briefly.
“A little, when we had time… Sometimes we played at knights or dragonlords.”
“Good.” Jace patted the boy's shoulder firmly, making him flinch. “Are you familiar with the history of Aegon The Conqueror?”
The boy's face lights up at that, obviously thrilled by the story- just as you all were.
~*~*~
Lucerys stood as tall and proud as he could, straining to glare up into the eyes of his older brother. As ridiculous he may have looked with your belt still strapped around his head, he looked every inch a king in your imagination.
“Yield now, and you may remain The Lord of The Iron Islands. Yield now, and your sons will live to rule after you. You see my army outside your walls. You see my dragons high above your head.”
“What is outside my walls is of no concern to me!” Jace exclaimed, imitating the voice of a cruel wicked old man. The hoarse, scratchy tone giving you gooseflesh.
“My walls are strong and thick!”
“But not so high as to keep out dragons. Dragons fly.”
“I built it in stone. Stone does not burn!”
Glen steps forward now, suddenly brave, drawing his practice sword.
“Shall I kill him now, Your Grace?”
Lucerys only needs to hold up his hand to order restraint. He reassures Glen with a curt little nod, before turning to his brother one final time.
“Very well, you have made your decision. When the sun sets, your line shall end.”
Jace, as angry and petulant as you’ve ever seen him, spits to the ground and marches defiantly back to his imagined castle.
“How dare you turn your back on your King!” Glen calls after him.
“He is no King of me!” Jace calls back.
You place your hand on Glen's shoulder, calm and confident as Visenya.
“Fear not Lord Tully, my brother speaks true. Stones do make for perfect ovens.”
Instead of answering, Glen shrugs you off and makes to follow Luke when he walks past you. Was he hoping for a fight? You thought, Surely he knew that wasn’t how Harren fell?
“There will be no need to raise the troops, or mount your dragons,” Luke says, “I will handle this business alone. For years Harren Hoare has made this land suffer. Now it will be him and his family,” He gives you the signal of his signature hand wave. “Who will suffer the most.”
You both recognize the signal, and make to join Jaces side- Helyn dragging Glen behind her. Immediately, you take up the role of one of Harrens many wives.
“Husband, did those terrible dragonlords leave? Surely they understand they have no chance against our high walls!”
Jace shakes his head, before lifting and inspecting an imaginary goblet.
“Valyrians are stubborn and stupid! This one especially, he insists I kneel and call him King. If I do so I can call myself “Lord of The Iron Islands”. Bah!” He sits on the ground, Helyn sitting beside him.
“But father, what about his dragons?”
“Fire does not burn stone!” Jace roars, “We are as safe as can be! And when he least suspects it, we’ll send a servingman to kill his dragons while they sleep!”
He seems to finish his drink, and you pretend to refill it for him. When you notice Glen still standing apart from the group, awkward and uncertain, you gesture to him.
“Son, come and join us. We must break our fast.”
Gingerly, Glen sits on Jace’s other side, fiddling with his fingers.
“Lord of The Iron Islands… I am King of The Iron Islands and The Riverlands! My ancestors conquered this land first- it is my right! I raised this castle! Not long ago it was I Lord Tully bowed to and called King!”
Helyn cackled as menacingly as she could.
“He’ll call you King again before long, when this so-called conqueror fails. What has he conquered anyways? A few measly castles and low lords!”
You pretend to serve them all supper, and sit across from your imagined family. To signal Luke, you make sure to speak your next words loud and clearly.
“One of the men at arms told me he said, “When the sun sets, your line shall end.” But look about! The sun has passed setting, and the night is clear and still! No usurper can cast down the might of House Hoare!”
Jace raised his goblet high above his head, shouting with all the might he could muster.
“To House Hoare! May we destroy the Dragons and reign for a thousand years!”
You all echo his toast, raising your own imagined goblets, and drinking deep.
On cue, Luke came rushing upon you. Flapping his arms and roaring, heaving breaths of invisible fire.
Together you all collapse to the ground, howling in pain. In your mind's eye you see tall towers of stone collapsing around you, melting like wax candles. When you look at your hands, you see the charred flesh blister and pop. As you look upon your family, in these final moments, you see horrible ashen corpses screaming in their death rattle.
“Jacaerys! Lucerys!”
The castle's Maester stands before you, his arms crossed across his chest. With all those chains around his neck, you would've thought he’d make more noise at his approach. Perhaps we were screaming too loud, you think and flush with embarrassment.
“What do you think you are doing?”
Jacaerys shrugs when he gets to his feet.
“We were just playing, Maester Raff.”
Lucerys nodded excitedly.
“I am Aegon, and Jace is Harren Hoare! I was just about to burn and conquer Harrenhal!”
The Maesters face seemed to pale, and a certain look crossed his features. He schooled his expression before you could determine what was wrong. Was it fear? Anger? Jace had sworn there was no problem with playing, Princess Rhaenyra didn’t mind-
“Your mother wishes to speak to you in the Solar, there is…” His eyes flit over to you and Glen, still laying on the ground, before returning to The Princes.
“There is some news. Go now, you can resume your game tomorrow.”
Lucerys removes the belt still strapped to his head and hands it back to you, before the two boys rush back towards the castle.
“I’m sorry!” Glen cries as soon as they vanish.
“They asked me to play with them! They said it was alright! They said-”
The Maester silences him with a shake of his balding gray head, seeming to relax a bit.
“It was nothing you did children. Come now, supper is almost ready.”
In a flash the old man turned and swept back across the yard- his chains rattling with him.
Helyn helped you to your feet, and readjusted your bonnet- definitely sitting askew atop your head.
“I wonder what the news could be. Seeing how upset Raff was, it probably isn't good.”
“What if The King has died?” Glen squeaked. “Then that would make The Princess The Queen.”
“Don’t be ridiculous! The King is in perfect health. I hear he has hunting parties every day, and throws balls and banquets every night!”
“That’s not what Dayle says. Dayle says The King is rotting from the inside out- that he could die any day.”
Helyn rolls her eyes at that, before leading your little group back towards the outer door.
“Dayle is a stupid stable boy who’s never been to Kings Landing! He’s never seen the King in person, so what can he know? I’m willing to wager-”
The rest of the evening fades in your memory. You can remember pondering over dinner just how things would change if the King truly was dead. Whether or not you'd join the new Queens household in King's Landing. You imagining what The Iron Throne may look like. How large The Red Keep would be…
But you hear nothing about The King's death, or The Princesses elevation. In fact you hear no news at all, good or bad. The household staff carry on their routines without a hitch. Maester Raff returned to his cell when he finished his meal, as usual. When the kitchen is cleared, the men retire to their apartments. You follow the rest of the maidstaff back to your chamber when you finish, keeping your ears open for any gossip- only to hear mindless chatter of no importance.
When mother came to tuck you in and kiss you goodnight, you had asked her if she heard anything.
“The only news I know is that we’re expecting a shipment of soap, spices and fresh herbs tomorrow. Nothing too exciting I’m afraid. Why dear, what is it?”
“It’s just… The Maester stopped us while we were playing. He told The Princes to go to their mother, The Princess. He said there was some news-”
“What concerns them does not concern us.” She says firmly. “They are Targaryens, remember? We worry about their needs, while they worry about the needs of the realm. Besides, if we are not properly informed, then it is of little matter. A rumor, or a family squabble I’m sure.”
When she sees the uncertainty on your face, she gives you a reassuring smile and smooths the hair off your forehead.
“If The Princes want to tell you, they will. But do not ask; it is not our place to impose. Do you understand? It is none of your business, unless they want it to be.”
“Yes mama, I understand.”
She kisses you one last time, before blowing out the lantern just above your bunk; submerging you in darkness.
You do not dream at all; at first. Your mind filled with a calm soothing emptiness… Until a fire blooms out of the abyss. A small flickering candlelight that soon grows bigger and bigger- engulfing the entire space. When it eventually moves over to you, white hot pain completely overwhelms your senses.
The sheer terror of it all hits you suddenly. When you try to run away, you find the nearest door stubbornly sealed shut. The stone walls around you seem to materialize out of nowhere, like the flames, they grow higher and higher. Encasing you into this prison.
The fire finds you again, and the pain returns. This time there is nowhere to flee, and you have no choice but to let it happen. It begins at your ankles and rises up your legs, your waist and to your torso. Much like your past imaginations, your skin singes, cracks and blisters in the heat- the horrible smell of it fills your senses until you can practically taste it. You desperately want to vomit, but the ash in your lungs prevents it.
Soon it is all too much to bear, and you desperately wish for The Gods to have mercy; to end your suffering and just kill you. The last thing you see being the crumbling stone ceiling above you, and the yellow inferno consuming it all-
You wake up sweating and shaking profusely. It takes a moment for reality to wash over you, and the real world slowly comes back into focus.
I was never in Harrenhal, you think to yourself. I never left my bed. I’m still at Dragonstone, as safe as can be. It was just a bad dream.
You let your racing heart slow to its usual tempo, and take long deep breaths. When all is well, you move to push your blanket away and go to the kitchens. Some water will do me some good, you think.
Then there is a hand covering your mouth.
“Agh!” You gasp, and wiggle to get away.The fear from your dream creeping back.
“Shh it’s just me.” The small voice of a young girl says above you. Helyn.
You push her hand away.
“Helyn, it’s the middle of the night! What are you-”
“Shh!” She hisses. “Listen,”
The room grows silent again, the only sounds you hear being the heavy breathing of the other maids. To your right, you hear the sound of shifting blankets and someone turning on their side. You almost speak again, demanding Helyn go back to bed, until another sound rings out. It is a distant, shrieking sound. It reminded you of the screaming Luke had made in the yard earlier that day, and the sounds you would make when you pretended to be a monster.
It wasn't loud enough to hurt your ears, or rattle your bones. But clear and distinctive enough to make out, even this far into the castle.
Gently, Helyn speaks the words you already know.
“The dragons are screaming.”
