Work Text:
Jeyne Arryn has never cared much for the histories.
She was only ever a middling student of it, much to the dismay of her maesters during her childhood. She did not blame them for such feelings. They all- that is her regents, her septa, and maesters experienced great pressure with the duty of expected of them. To help shape the three-year-old brotherless Jeyne, the last thing left of poor dead Lord Arryn, into the woman she is today. A woman who has ruled the Vale in her own right for nigh on twenty years.
Therefore, not supporting Her Grace’s claim would be nothing more than an insult to the Lady of the Vale’s own reign, implying that women have no capability for ruling when Jeyne herself discredits such a notion. Rhaenyra has been Princess of Dragonstone for years. King Viserys upheld her claim for years. Surely, he prepared her. That is what Jessamyn said to Jeyne fervently once, while absent-mindedly stroking her younger son’s blonde hair as he slept peacefully on her lap.
However, Jeyne does not need to be an accomplished student of it to be greatly familiar with the bravery of Queen Sharra Arryn.
Every child in the Vale, both noble and common, has grown up knowing her story. Jeyne herself cannot ever recall not knowing about Her Grace. She remembers once holding hands with Septa while looking at a portrait that was painted of Sharra Arryn a few years after the submission of the Vale. Jeyne had liked that even though she was just a lady by then, you could still tell by looking at her that Sharra Arryn was a queen. A queen who had not trembled in fear or begged when confronted by an invader.
Jeyne did not ever imagine that she might one day experience a similar position.
“My lady!” Lady Rhaena burst through the door, startling Jeyne as she read over some ledgers. “Please, my brothers, please come quick-,” The girl was shaking violently.
Startled, Jeyne rises from the table. “What on earth?” She has never seen Rhaena in such a state before.
Ser Morgan, who had accompanied the girl to Jeyne’s rooms, answered. “Dragon,” He said darkly.
That is all Jeyne needed to know. She took a deep breath and straightened. Mother, protect us. “Thank you, Ser. I now ask you to stay here, with Lady Rhaena.”
Ser Morgan nodded. “Of course, my lady.”
Rhaena did not try to say anything in protest. Instead, she tried to leave- only to be held back by the knight’s strong arms. Jeyne hates this, but she has no choice. Rhaena is petrified by what she has seen- bringing her along will only do more harm.
Accompanied by her men, Jeyne rushes to the courtyard where the princes are. She excepts to find Prince Aemond waiting for her, casually pressing a knife to his nephew's throat.
But it is not Aemond Targaryen or his dragon.
It is Helaena Targaryen and her Dreamfyre that awaits them.
Jeyne has only met Queen Rhaenyra a few times, and her half-sister the princess even less. She thinks the last time might have been before Princess Helaena was wed, or shortly afterwards. She cannot be sure. That was not Jeyne’s fault- the princess seemed a sweet girl, to be sure. But sweet girls don’t always make for the most memorable.
Well, Jeyne Arryn is certainly not going to forget about this in a hurry.
The princess has made herself comfortable, sitting on the edge of a fountain. Prince Viserys sits at her feet, gazing up at the beast in wonder. Jeyne remembers that the boy’s egg never hatched and that he and Lady Rhaena are the only one among their siblings without a dragon. Sitting beside him is his older brother, Prince Aegon. His eyes too rest upon the dragon. Jeyne can see the interest and wariness warring on his young face.
“Princess!” To her relief, Jeyne’s voice is clear and strong. “I trust that your ride was pleasant.”
Helaena Targaryen smiled gently. “It was my lady. Taking Dreamfyre to the skies has been my joy since I was a girl of twelve.” She gave Dreamfyre an affectionate pat, who purred.
“I don’t want to wait that long to fly!” Prince Viserys protested. “It’s no fair-,”
Seven, the last thing Jeyne needs is the prince throwing a tantrum. Her hands shook, and she prayed Helaena Targaryen did not notice.
“What brings you to the Vale, Princess?” Jeyne asks, knowing the answer already. It strikes her suddenly that Helaena Targaryen has not bothered to correct the title Jeyne gives her, even though the Vale had heard that Queen Alicent herself had placed her own crown upon her daughter’s head.
The next time word of the princess would leave the city, it was much darker.
“Before we begin, my lady, I am a little hungry. Would you be kind enough to fetch something from the kitchens? I could share it with my nephews.”
“I’m not hungry, thank you,” Prince Aegon said politely.
"I am," Prince Viserys shrugs.
Jeyne clenched her teeth. But of course. Bread and salt.
“Certainly,” she said smoothly. She gestured towards one of her knights. “Ser Lyle, go to the kitchens. Tell them to prepare a small plate of fruit, bread, and cheese. Bring with it a cup of honeymilk, if you please. Be sure to tell them of its purpose.”
Ser Lyle’s face reddened. “My lady, please. We can take the usurper’s wife-,”
At that, Dreamfyre roared. You cannot take her dragon, fool man.
“I am your Lady of the Vale giving you a command, not a wife who you may ignore.” Jeyne’s voice is as hard as stone.
The wait for Ser Lyle is agonizing. As they wait, Helaena ignores Jeyne, instead asking her nephews questions. Prince Viserys answers eagerly, eager to show off in the way little boys do. Prince Aegon’s answers are polite but more reserved. He is old enough to understand that he and his brother are in some sort of danger, Jeyne realizes, but not old enough to understand why.
Finally, Helaena Targaryen has her bread and salt. She tears off a piece and raises it to her lips. There is an unspoken question in her eyes that Jeyne easily reads.
Jeyne gives a taut nod. She is an Arryn of the Vale. Their words are As High As Honor. She will not disrespect her house’s words by abusing sacred laws by having one of the cooks sprinkle poison on the meal.
Satisfied that she speaks true, Helaena swallows a couple of mouthfuls of bread, followed by some cheese. She then takes a small sip from the goblet, and it is done.
“Thank you, my lady.”
“You're welcome. Pray forgive me, but I must ask again. What need have you of the Vale?”
Helaena smiles. “I find that I need my nephews’ company,” she replies. “I think they would be very good company for my daughter, Princess Jaehaera, and my-,” Her voice cut off as if saying her son’s name was too painful. Aegon and Viserys exchanged bemused looks, but Jeyne understood why. The small boy must remind the poor woman of his brother, although she would have thought that it would have been his own twin sister instead that was the cause of such pain.
“Prince Aegon and Prince Viserys are lovely boys. I am sure that they and your children would be great friends.” Never mind that their parents were at war against each other. “But they are so young, I worry about such a flight-,” She prays that Helaena understands her point.
“I’ve taken my children flying before,” Helaena assures her. “No harm will come to them.” She does.
“I want to go!” Viserys insists. “It’s boring here in the Vale. If we can't go back home for now, I'd like to see Kingslanding.” He pouts.
“I don’t mind it here,” Aegon tells his younger brother.
Jeyne’s heart clenches. What can she do? Remember, guest right protect the host as well. The princess cannot command her dragon to burn them. But guest right is not permanent. What is to stop Helaena Targaryen from simply returning in the next hour with fire and blood, if Jeyne tries to refuse her?
Rhaenyra is her blood. Her mother was an Arryn, Queen Aemma a half-aunt. Viserys and Aegon her blood as well.
But they are strangers. The shame of her decision burns Jeyne, but it is true. She does not want to die for strangers, even for children, innocent things they may be. The only people that she would ever die for is the people of the Vale. She closes her eyes, sees Jessamyn, and opens them again. Seven, forgive me.
“My princes, it appears that you are going on a journey,” Jeyne tells the boys briskly.
“Can Rhaena and Joff come?” Aegon bites his lip.
Helaena exchanges tense looks with Jeyne, before turning back to the prince. “I am afraid Lady Jeyne needs your brother and sister,” she tells him kindly. “But you will see them again soon, I’m sure.”
Jeyne prays that it will be true.