HAZELLE
2/7/21
REVISED.
UPDATE: I am going to rewrite and revise and edit the next few chapters in order to make them more detailed and well-written. Plus I have a few ideas I want to add to it, so I need to revise them completely. So I'm going to delete them for now as I write. I'm saying this now so no one will get confused. It will take a while, but it will be finished by mid-January to early February. Just a fair warning. I apologize for all of the changes and edit. Experiencing writer blocks and I realized that I've written myself in a few corners.
The pleasant memories of her fifth birthday seeped into her dreams, a bright and warm day in the long summer. It was one of those dreams where, deep down, you're aware that it is nothing more than a dream, but at the same time, it all feels so real. And you desperately wish for it to be.
Hazelle was back in the Flea Bottom with her family again. She slept in her soft bed, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets. When she woke up in the early morning, it was Cedrick nudging her awake. Jana, Keven, and Conin all gathered beside her bedroom, all whole and alive and well again, smiling as they had in the old days before the dragon slaughtered them.
The little party consisted of gifts, baked goods, playing, music, and merriment. Mama prepared her favorite dinner, a honey cake with a side of biscuits. Jana was sewing her a little blue dress made of linen, Keven and she was playing Hide-the-Treasure. She recalled that Conin had left her a gift of a handmade crown of winter roses as blue as the water. Hazelle stretched out her hand to grab the flowery crown, instantly the thorns tore her skin, and she felt cruel pain. She saw the bright droplets of her blood and then she woke with a startle.
In the cell at the heart of Maegor's Holdfast, Hazelle shuddered terribly in the damp cell. The girl cuddled up in the corner like some frightened little imp. The night was a cruel one for Hazelle, affording her not the peaceful moment of sleep. It was an endless night filled with lonesome tears and deep bemoaning. Hazelle wept buckets. Her eyes by now had grown heavy and her mind was clouded, obscuring all of her mental faculties.
Her cell was wet, roofless, filled with cracks and crevices and holes in the walls. Sheets of drizzle pitter-pattering on the floor. Boulders and rocks strewn about the floors. The cell was quiet, with the soft sound of rain, the soft meowing of stray cats that ventured against the elements roaming about, the high-pitched squeaks of the mice and rats, and the harsh whistling of wind passing through the various cracks and crevices.
Hazelle sat there quiescently, taking in the light shower of the rain. All she could think of was Cedrick. She wanted him to be alive and well. She was so scared of him. Was he killed? Is he hurt? Those questions burned inside of her with no answers in sight. She then began to pray, Jana always said praying always makes everything better.
She didn't know which God to pray to. So she prayed to all of them. "Please, please, all Seven Gods. Please hear my plea. Please keep my big brother safe. Please keep him alive no matter what. Please, he needs to live. Please protect him." She whispered passionately.
When the footsteps came down the hall. Hazelle jolted up to her feet. The heavy wooden door creaked open, the sudden light was painful to her eyes. The door was half-open, illuminating the dim cell with an orange hue.
It was a man named Greyworm. She recognized him as the only foreigner she could understand.
He held a small jug of water.
"You will speak before the Queen once her matters are concluded." He said. "Drink."
A raw whimper crawled up her throat. Fear emboldened her. "No. No. I don't know anything...I don't..." She pleaded miserably.
Greyworm's face contorted with anger. His eyes darkened. "You are not to speak, child!" He yelled, the tenacity of his voice rattling Hazelle to the bone. "Do not test your luck."
But Hazelle was too emotional to listen. "I..want to go home…" She lurched for the door, only to be propelled backward from a hard kick into her stomach. The kick was so hard that it knocked the wind out of her lungs. She laid on the floor, sucking the air. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut to keep more tears from leaking out. "Please don't start crying again," She had to be brave. Just like Cedrick. The jug was tossed to her, the cold water spilled on her face.
Suddenly Greyworm was yanked backward by something Hazelle could not see through her blurry vision. There was a sharp commotion as if two people were grappling, and the loud voices of men yelling over each other.
"Enough!" She heard a different voice, a husky, but a strained voice. Then came the stern voice of Greyworm.
"I am obeying her Queen's commands," said Greyworm.
"And what are her commands?" said the other man.
"No one who has followed Cersei Lannister deserves well-treatment," Greyworm explained. "This little girl is like the others. Free. These people are all free, but yet they chose to follow her."
"Children don't have a choice in who they follow." the man said. "Go. The Queen has requested you."
There was a brief moment of still silence between the men, then came the descending footsteps.
Hazelle regained her balance and looked up to see a man appearing in the doorway. A stocky man with a lean build, a long face, a shaggy mop of black curls, and grey eyes so dark they almost seem black. He did not resemble any of the foreign soldiers as he simply wore black garb. In his right hand, he clutched a jug.
Hazelle cast a glance to fresh puddle and then at the jug expectedly.
The man shook his head, an awkward look crossed his face. "No, this is not for you. This is wine. This is for someone else. I promise I'll fetch you water."
Hazelle was silent other than a faint, soggy sniffle. Her eyes puffy and red. She rested her chin on the crook between her knees and sighed. She lowered her eyes and resolved to keep quiet.
When her eyes cast up, she was surprised to see that man was still standing in the doorway.
The man did not depart from the door, his eyebrows pulled together. "Are you hungry?." He suddenly said.
Hazelle blinked away tears. She scooted away and turned her head away. "No." She whimpered. "I just want to go home."
The man fumbled with his words momentarily. "I know things seem quite bleak, but I assure you that things will look up soon."
Fresh tears dripped down her cheeks. Her body became heavy. Hesitantly, she turned her head back to him. Her voice was a pitiful squeak. "Who are you?"
"Jon." He replied lowly.
Hazelle studied Jon from head to toe. She did not know what to make of him. He was not threatening or scary like the Unsullied. He just looked sad. Mournful.
"I can get you a bowl of beef stew. But first, I have to attend to someone."
He then raised a hand to the door, he clasped the side and paused. His eyes averted from Hazelle, then he shut them, and closed the door as quick as he could.
Hazelle silently listened to Jon's footsteps down the corridor.
One second passed. Two seconds passed. Three seconds passed. Fear was eating and pestering her. A fire burned in her mind and throat. Anxiety hit her like a sledgehammer. She paced about rapidly, wringing her hands, feeling much like a chicken with its head cut off.
What do I do? Was the imploring, unspoken question that kept repeating in her mind. Hazelle reminisced of home. The flooded streets rushing with life, the familiar stench of manure lingering in the air, Mama filling the house with the sweet aroma of hulled barley. Keven running off the walls, Cedrick assisting Jana in cleaning up the house. Conin rustling her hair in the early hours of the morning before he heads off to work.
She yearned to see her mother again, and Conin and Jana and Keven. but it was Cedrick she thought of most. She hated the fact that he wouldn't allow her to join him. If she had, she would not be here. Hazelle wanted him here with her. She wanted Cedrick's warm hands to embrace her whenever she felt scared, she wanted her big brother's kind words to lift her spirits.
But she was not sure if that was possible.
She thought of her only companion left; Ser Jorgan.
He's dead. He went to that woman and was burned alive. Just like Jana, just like Keven. She thought sorrowfully. Streams of tears rushed down her cheeks and to her trembling chin. Never before has she ever felt so alone before. She trusted no one. Even Jon. He's kind, kinder than the others. But he is a foreigner soldier. He's one of the people who killed everyone.
She looked down towards the ground, where the entrance door left a small opening above the floor. She could see s shadow shuffling about through the only source of light; which was emanating through the opening like a tiny pinprick.
When the heavy door creaked wide open, the delicious aroma of beef and barley stew permeated throughout the room. He held the bowl in one hand, a loaf of barley bread, and he had a jug in the other hand. She looked at it and thought of Cedrick. Beef and barley stew was his favorite. Her stomach growled and she squirmed to silence the rumbling.
"Here you go." Jon moved into the cell, only for Hazelle to instinctively reeling away from him.
"I'm not hungry, sir." Hazelle hung down her head.
"I heard your stomach. It's best for you to eat and build up your strength." Jon said.
Hazelle took no heed to his remarks as the worrying thoughts continued to flash through her head. "What's wrong?" Jon said in concern. Hazelle responded by taking another step backward, refusing to look Jon in the eyes. She wanted him to disappear.
Hazelle turned her back to him, still wishing for him to disappear. She heard him slowly approach but she reacted in kind, rushing to the very back of her cell. She pressed herself against the wall, wishing she could pass through the stonewall like a ghost.
"No, I want to be alone."
Jon paused in his tracks and placed the meal on the floor. "I understand, if you don't want to talk about it now, I respect that. I know you don't know me. Whenever you need anything, just ask."
"I want to go home." Hazelle turned her back to the wall to look at Jon. Please just go away. I just want to go home. I don't want to be here. I don't.
Jon looked at her intently, in a sympathetic sort of way that made her wonder if perhaps his eyes could peer straight into her thoughts. A sense of melancholy graced Jon's features. "I promise you, that you will be released,"
"How do you know?" She whimpered.
Jon went rather pale, his gaze darted away from Hazelle's face, looking somewhere off at the beautiful skies. "Please don't fret. No one is going to kill you. No one is going to harm you,"
"But that dragon lady-"
Jon fumbled with his words, gesticulating as he spoke. "She will not…." His voice paused. "She simply wants to hear from you. She believes there are people….wanting to harm her and her people."
Hazelle gave Jon a puzzled look. "Are you one of her people?"
Jon went silent for a brief moment.
"I do serve Queen Daenerys." He stated empathetically. But his eyes appeared dead.
Hazelle's blood ran cold. She studied him and noticed his shoulders sagging as he spoke as if the guilt carried an actual, palpable weight that bore down on him. His face contorted with undeniable pain and sorrow. He had the same pained look she's seen on many of the surviving citizens of Flea Bottom.
''The Queen will speak to you after she's done with all of her affairs, I'll be there with you.''
"I guess so," She said in a squeaky little voice, so full of defeat and resentment.
Hazelle finally took the food and began to eat. As she did, Jon unceremoniously departed the cell, closing the door. Tilting her head up toward the sky, Hazelle peered through a hole in the ceiling and caught a glimpse of a twinkling silver star overhead, a bright beacon of light against the deep navy of the sky.
….
From a dreadful and haunting sleep, Hazelle cracked open her eyes to a roofless ceiling, a beautiful sunrise that streaked the skies with paintbrush strokes of gold and rose, and the stern face of Greyworm eyeing her from very close proximity. A frightened gasp escaped her lips as she shot upright. Hands raised in defense, poised, ready to fight, to scream. Her brow was moist as if she had been caught in a rainstorm, her clothing soaked.
She looked at Greyworm and her heart sank. "It is time." She wanted to run. But she did not as she knew she could not outrun Greyworm or any of the guards.
Afterward, she could not remember leaving the room or descending the steps, or crossing the yard. It seemed to take all her attention just to put one foot down in front of the other. Hazelle saw the Unsullied everywhere. Standing like golden statues in the long corridor.
Hazelle inhaled and exhaled to collect her nerves. "Be brave. Be brave. Be brave." She chanted in her mind. But there were no personal assurances in the world that could keep Hazelle courageous once she reached the room at the end of the corridor.
It started with a quiet whimpering which soon grew into a small, sniffling cry. Then it broke into a shrill scream tore out tore through her like a great shard of glass. Her heart thudding like a rock rattling in box. Her eyes clenched shut. It was the memories. The sudden rush of memories hit her directly in the chest, sending her staggering almost as if it had been a physical blow. She went back to where it happened. The blazing flames licking Flea Bottom, the hellish screaming drumming in her eardrums, Jana and Keven swallowed by the dragonfire, corpses littered the streets burnt and mutilated, the gigantic dragon flying overhead, the thunderous roaring reverberated through the smoking skies.
A hard fist silenced her, colliding with her left cheekbone, flaying her neck backward like a tree branch caught in the wind.
She stumbled to the floor. Her mouth filled with blood. Hazelle finally opened her eyes to find the floor and heard Jon reprimanding someone across from her.
She heard Ser Jorgan's panicked voice shouting at her. "Hazelle, are you alright? Can you hear me?" He then started fiercely yelling at someone else. "What was that? How is that necessary? I told you she is scared. No need to strike her. How can you call yourself a man and yet punch a little girl!"
The room fell silent and Hazelle looked in his direction.
With a pang of relief, Hazelle turned her head to him and without hesitation ran full speed at him. She didn't make it far as the Unsullied positioned beside him wielded his spear at her. She halted, her eyes casting to the nightmare that sent her into a hysterical episode.
Her tears streaked down the cheeks as she struggled to collect herself. Her sobs had now become but quiet whimpers tapering off into a dull, lifeless silence.
The silence hung over Hazelle like a heavy fog. She could not bear to look at the dragon and only looked at the woman perched on the chair. A tall, striking woman with long silver-golden hair and violet eyes. "Hazelle, yes?" She had quite a flat voice. She looked exhausted with dark circles over her eyes, she looked sick as she would kneel over at any moment.
"This is the dragon lady?" Hazelle thought puzzled. She expected her to look ghastly and wicked, like the witches and monsters in the stories she heard. But here, she was just looking at a haggard, young woman. Beside her was Greyworm and walking up to her side was Jon.
Daenerys stared into her eyes. "Have you calmed down now?" She demanded.
Hazelle gulped. She managed to maintain a polite tone. "Yes."
Daenerys shuffled in her chair, her eyes never moving from hers. "Hazelle, as your Queen, I will warn you that it is a great crime to lie,". "Speak the truth and no harm will be bestowed upon you," This made Hazelle's blood run cold.
Daenerys nudged her head to Ser Jorgan. "What is his name?"
Hazelle turned her head to Ser Jorgan. His eyes sunken, his skin turned ashen. With all of her might, she brutally suppressed the truth.
Hazelle bit down on her lower lip. Her attention was seized by the jarring growl of the dragon that made her flinch violently. Fear curled up inside her and clung to her ribs, settling uncomfortably in her chest.
Will the dragon eat me? Will it burn me?
She couldn't breathe, it felt as if someone was choking her. All she wanted to do was curl up into a ball and wait for someone to save her.
"Se...Se…" Her words crawled up her throat, in the corner of her eyes, she could see Ser Jorgan's frightful expression. But Hazelle succumbed to the instilled fear. "Jorgan Hawthorne." Her voice was a mere whisper. Hazelle bit her lower lip so hard that she bled. The overflowing guilt tore through her, threatening to rip her apart. What have I done? What have I done?
Ser Jorgan's face fell.
Daenery's thin lines curled upward. She gave Ser Jorgan a knowing look. "Jorgan Hawthorne. Not as proper as James the lowborn. House Hawthrone is one of the noble families sworn to Casterly Rock. Sworn to Baratheon and Lannister."
Ser Jorgan raised his voice. "May I speak-"
"No. You have nothing to say." Daenerys said sharply. The dragon turned its attention to Ser Jorgan, growling menacingly.
Hazelle could hear her heart thudding, jack-hammering repeatedly in her chest. Bile rose in her throat, but she pushed it down with a gulp. A shudder ran up the base of her spine, she could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand on edge. She feared Ser Jorgan's fate greatly. "No! No!" She shrieked. "I'm lying!" Hazelle began crying again.
"Silence, child!" Greyworm commanded. He then ordered the Unsullied to bring Ser Jorgan front. Hazelle watched helplessly as the Unsullied escorted him ahead of her. When Ser Jorgan came close to her, a sharp, permeating ringing emitted from her eardrums. Time seemed to stop as she met Ser Jorgan's pale eyes, his lips soundlessly mouth to her.
"I'm sorry."
Hazelle's blood was running cold, almost as if somebody had replaced every drop of blood with pure ice. A painful tingling sensation stung at her fingertips which quickly evolved into a total loss of feeling and sensation in them altogether.
"Jorgan Hawthrone," Daenerys declared. She turned her face to look at him. "Where is Cersei Lannister located? How many soldiers are left?"
Ser Jorgan met her entreaties with dead silence. He no longer appeared fearful, his face was pale, but solid. He stood there in intransigent defiance.
Rage flashed in Greyworm's face and he took an aggressive step towards him.
"Stop." Daenerys commanded. Greyworm paused in his tracks.
With a bold and prosperous force, Daenerys stood from her chair. Her eyes fixated on Ser Jorgan. "I am giving the opportunity to redeem yourself, Jorgan. You should ravish the chance. Answer me and choose your words carefully. If you bring me to her, I shall spare you. Don't bring yourself any more troubles. I'm not going to deliberate with you any more about this."
Ser Jorgan remained silent.
Hazelle could feel her knees shake as the cold sweat began to crease her forehead. Ser Jorgan? What are you doing? Is what Hazelle wanted to scream, but she couldn't fix herself to speak.
"I see." Daenerys said after a long moment of silence. She moved close to her dragon, fixing her mouth to say something, only to be interrupted by Jon.
He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "There is no need. Lock him in a cell. We should keep him for information." He protested.
Daenerys never looked at Jon. Instead she stood unmoving, her face washed blank. "No. He has chosen his fate." Her voice hollow, but yet firm.
She could almost taste the tension in the air. The silence was so profound that you would have heard a pin drop.
Suddenly the dragon released out a ear-splitting roar that sent Hazelle to her knees, her hands clasping her ears.
"Dracarys."
Hazelle leapt to the side when the scorching stream of unbridled dark flame bathed Ser Jorgan completely. A pillar of blaze drenched him from head to toe. His eyeballs melted, dripping down his chin like candlewax, his hair incinerated, his skin and clothes charred to black. If he was screaming, Hazelle would not be able to tell from the strident roaring of the flames. He silently collapsed to the floor dead.
The sudden stench of charred meat filled the air.
Suddenly Hazelle felt her stomach turn with a burning sensation. The vomit coursed up into her mouth so violently that she collapsed to her knees. No matter how much she tried, she could not remove her eyes.
What was once a Lannister soldier was now a charred, unrecognizable statue frozen in the fetal position. He's dead. He's dead. I killed him. I got him killed.
And then, she broke down. She sat there, sobbing as hard as she could, unaware of any passage of time, until the Unsullied hoisted her up to her feet.
"Put back her in a cell. We will converse later."
REVIEWS AND THOUGHTS. NEXT CHAPTER IS COMING SOON. So I decide I'm going to take it slow and work on construct a coherent storyline and build up the characters slightly more realistically. So again, sorry about the constant changes. New chapters will come eventually in the near future.