Prologue
Cold…it was so cold…
He knew that death was by no means a warm entity but he had not expected it to be this frigid.
Nor had he expected it to be this long either. Death was supposed to carry with it sensory finality. He wasn't supposed to feel anything after the initial impact. There was supposed to be a blunt force emanating fearful torque that would crush him or a sharp pain that would make him stiffen up like a board before his limbs ceased to move forever…but not this…not this sensation of falling.
Nor was there supposed to be this feeling of shrinkage, like he was growing smaller and smaller and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
But then again he really hadn't expected for this to happen at all.
It had been his own fault really. He should have known better to open that box alone and certainly without taking even more precautions then he had.
He was an Unspeakable damn it, they were supposed to be trained in handling dangerous unknown objects.
But here he had barrelled through as if he were still the same clumsy nervous lion that he had been back in his early school years.
If Gran could see me now, he had thought.
He had thought that he had been careful, was sure of it even. He had cast the necessary diagnostic charms to ensure that the trunk that had been brought in was not cursed and the results had come back negative. There had been no ancient runes on the box which also made him think that whatever it contained was harmless.
It was a lesson to never judge a book by its cover…or trunk as it were.
Not that it would matter much now though.
It had been brought in from a raid of one of the houses of a former Death Eater even though the war had been over for over a decade.
That in itself should have raised alarm bells for him.
Even though the war had been over for a significant amount of time those two words still caused the hair on the back of his neck to rise.
He still couldn't his visit his parents in the hospital without thinking of the psychotic bitch that had put them there.
It didn't matter that they had been all hunted down and killed or given life in Azkaban…the mention of Riddle's black robed followers was enough to inspire fear and trepidation in a good deal of the new generation of wizards who had risen up after the war.
They didn't scare Neville anymore, in fact he didn't even feel loathing. Bellatrix and her husband were gone and couldn't hurt anyone anymore…as was the mad man who had led them towards magical genocide.
But it didn't mean that he still wasn't affected by the words.
Which was why when they had brought the trunk in from the home of a former Death Eater which had been raided because of suspicious activity in the home, he had been wary.
His wife herself had brought it to him.
"Be careful with this one darling," Susan had said as she placed the trunk in front of him. "I don't have a good feeling about it."
As head of the DMLE and following in her aunt's footsteps, for Susan to lead a raid herself meant that it was high priority. That was what had alerted Neville to the fact that this was not a normal object.
He had told Susie that it would take some time to examine and then he would be home and she had given him a look that had said he had better be careful.
Irony was a funny thing.
Neville knew he had a tendency to be too absorbed in his work but it was difficult at times not to be. For a few years after he had graduated, he had taught herbology at Hogwarts, and though he loved the discipline itself, he couldn't bring himself to have the same feelings toward the students. There were some he got along with very well and then others that made him not want to come into work in the morning. But perhaps it was because the castle held too many memories for him to ever make his job completely happy.
He had had to make a trip to the Ministry one day and had run into a fiery red head that had seemed oddly familiar. She had had flashing brown eyes and freckles across her nose and cheeks and Neville was suddenly reminded of a red headed badger that he had had a huge crush on since his third year of school.
He had swallowed hard suddenly feeling like a thirteen year old again, not even noticing that she was watching him too.
Neville had just made up his mind to go up to her and talk to her when she had obliged his secret wish.
"Neville Longbottom?" She had exclaimed as she came toward him, nearly startling him half out of his skin. "Merlin, is that really you?"
He had blinked and managed a smile as the scarlet haired beauty had come up to him with a stunning smile on her face. "Susan...it's good to see you."
"It's been a long time," she had said. "How have you been?"
Neville had remembered then that he was in fact not a thirteen year old so he could not go about stuttering like one.
"Life has been quiet Susie," he said using the nickname he had given her a few times when they were in school. "But I certainly enjoy the quiet. My Gran on the other hand has been saying something needs to happen in order to shake things up a bit. She says my job is a waste of my talents."
Susan had frowned. "You're still working at Hogwarts aren't you? The herbology professor?"
He smiled, pleased that she remembered. "I am, though I have been feeling somewhat...stifled with the job."
Susan cocked her head to one side and smiled up at him. "And why is that?"
Neville ran a hand through his messy brown hair and sighed as if frustrated. "I love herbology but lately I feel as if there is more I could be doing, like I am wasting potential where I am."
"Are you happy?" Susan asked getting straight to the point.
Neville wrestled with himself for a moment. "No, if I am being completely honest, I am not. But I don't know what to do about it."
Susan tapped her finger against her cheek as if she were thinking. "If I remember correctly when we were in school, herbology wasn't your only strong subject. It was your favorite but you excelled at ancient runes, charms and warding."
"Charms?" Neville asked incredulously. "You do recall that I almost set a pile of books on fire in my first year?"
Susan laughed. "I had forgotten about that. And that was first year. You were nervous and unsure of yourself. You became much better after that. If I recall correctly you really came into your own in your later years in school. You were the leader of Dumbledore's army during the year that Harry Hermione and Ron were on the run."
Neville chuckled to himself. "I might have been a leader but I certainly didn't feel brave. I was terrified almost every day."
"We all were," Susan said gently. "But that doesn't mean that we didn't stop fighting. If anything we fought harder for what we wanted. But you were a large part of that."
"Me? What did I do?"
Susan laughed. "You helped all of us keep our sanity with the Carrows around and Snape as professor. There were many times when I thought I wouldn't make it through the year. But all I had to do was look at your hopeful attitude and I would feel better."
Neville was floored. He had had no idea that he had had that sort of an impact on those students in his class. "Really?"
"Really," Susan had said with a smile. "Now why don't you and I talk about the possibility of a new job for you over dinner tomorrow? I might have one here in the Ministry that you would be good at."
"Dinner?" Neville had asked stupidly.
"Yes dinner," Susan said looking amused and he felt even more the idiot. "You still eat dinner don't you?"
"Of course," he said hoping he wasn't as red as he felt.
"Good."
One dinner had turned into two and then four and soon enough the pair had become exclusive and Neville was asking to put a ring on her finger.
Before long they were standing before an altar with all their friends and family about them, clapping and cheering as Neville and Susan said their vows and pledged to be together forever.
Neville recalled it was one of the few times that his gran had smiled.
They had had four children together, three sons and a daughter all of who, had helped to heal the ache in Neville's heart after the war and make him far more confident than the shy teacher he had been when he and Susan had met.
Neville had grown to greatly enjoy this role as an Unspeakable, something he worked at for almost ten years that thrice damned box had come into his life.
The training to become one had been the most vigorous testing the former Gryffindor had ever gone through but he had never been more pleased than when he had been given his pale grey robes and told to report to the Department of Mysteries.
His work was so secret that even Susie didn't know everything even though she was head of the DMLE.
For years everything had been peaceful
And then it had all been fucked up by the arrival of that object from a former Death Eater's home.
The moment he was sure it was safe, Neville had carefully opened the box to be blasted backward through the department of mysteries before he even realized what was happening.
In truth he should have had his wits about him faster but he was so surprised his thoughts were muddled for a moment.
Before he realized what was happening, a cold darkness had enveloped him before he registered too late that it was the Veil.
No! He wanted to scream. I can't die, not yet! I have a wife and children who I need to get back to!
But the Veil was not a sentient creature and so did not hear...it only collected...taking and never giving back.
The last thing Neville thought of before the darkness closed in around him was Susan's beautiful face and those of his three sons and his daughter.
They wouldn't even have a body to bury...he was just gone.
Ω
It had been a long time since Jon Arryn had been in such a hurry before. Not since he was a much younger man had he ridden as hard or as fast. He could feel his bones creaking as he hunched over the saddle and feel the sweat running down the sides of his face and into his salt and pepper hair as the sun beat down on him from on high.
Today would be the day that Lysa goes into labour, he thought absently to himself. Today of all days when I am away from the Eyrie. I have been purposefully staying in the keep for weeks leading up to this so I would be around for the birth of our first born. And nothing, she hadn't even experienced any labour pains. And now on this day of all days when I am away to handle some business...it happens.
He supposed he should count himself lucky that he was only a few hours ride from the Eyrie when a messenger came huffing and puffing after him.
He had taken Robert with him and left Ned there as it was not necessary for the other boy to go.
Now the two of them were thundering back to the Eyrie atop their frothing steads.
"The horses will need to be rubbed down well when we return!" Robert shouted over the whistling of the wind past their ears. "Gods Jon, I did not know you could ride this hard! How long has it been?"
The aging lord of the Vale fixed his ward with a glare. Robert and Ned and Lysa were the only ones he allowed to call him by his first name.
"When you become a father Robert, I think you will understand," he said leaning even further over the neck of his horse, if that was even possible.
The heir to Storms End merely laughed.
Jon's thoughts immediately turned back to his pregnant wife who might give birth at any moment.
He had been uncomfortable with the idea of marrying someone so much younger than him, but the Vale demanded an heir and now that poor Elbert was dead from an
unfortunate hunting accident, forcing the aging lord to produce.
Jon had accepted that he would not marry when he had chosen his brother's son to be his heir and news of his death had been a terrible shock.
But that was behind him now and though Lysa was barely older than a child, he had accepted the marriage as there was no other choice. For one thing, it would be a smart option given that Lysa's older sister Catelyn was to wed Brandon Stark in a few years time and it would join houses Stark, Tully and Arryn in an alliance which was not something to be overlooked.
So despite his qualms, he had married her and was pleasantly surprised so far. Lysa was a bit more outspoken then her older sister who was demure and dutiful and obedient, many good qualities in a daughter for Hoster Tully.
Hosted Tully was another factor in this marriage and had been all too eager to see both of his daughters married off to two lords paramount. His grandchildren would inherit both the east and the north.
The aging lord ran his hand through his close cropped salt and golden hair Soon there would be more white than blonde in it and he smiled grimly. It was yet another reason for the urgency of producing an heir. He was not getting any younger and the stiffness that was beginning to creep into his bones when he got up in the mornings as the early day mist rose from the tops of the mountains of the Vale was evidence of that.
The time seemed to fly by before he and Robert began to ascend up to the Vale. The Eyrie itself loomed high ahead of them. Jon could proudly lay claim to one of the oldest lines of Andal nobility. The Eyrie itself was situated in the Mountains of the Moon astride the peak called the Giant's Lance, which was several hundred feet above the valley below.
Though it was somewhat small compared to the seats of other great houses, like Winterfell, Casterly Rock or Highgarden, the Eyrie was considered nigh on impregnable to attack. The only problem was that it was so bloody cold in winter as their was nothing to block the wind in the ancestral keep and being so high up, they were susceptible to each buffet of wind.
The castle itself consisted of only a cluster of seven slim white towers bunched tightly together. They could hold up to five hundred men either soldiers or guests, and the keep was made of fine white stone. All seven towers encircled a garden which had been meant as a godswood, but no weirwood tree had ever taken root in the stony soil and only contained grass, shrubbery and statues.
Jon had ensured that his wife was given rooms which overlooked the garden as he knew she liked them.
The barracks and the stables were carved directly into the mountain which served as a perfectly convenient defence. There was a large granary and a sept which serviced the keep as well.
The waterfall that was known as Alyssa's Tears could be heard there as well. The waterfall lay on the western side of the Giant's Lance. The place received its name in a rather gruesome way for Alyssa Arryn, who had been an ancient member of House Arryn saw her family butchered before her and never shed a tear.
But Jon didn't like to think about that story much.
In fact there were many stories attached to the history of the Vale before the Andal invaders had come.
One of the most famous were the legends of the winged king who had driven the First Men from the Vale and flew to the top of the Giant's Lance on a huge falcon to slay the Griffin King.
Whether that actually occurred or not and whether the man had wings was something that was hotly debated, but Jon chose not to think on it too much.
His mount seemed to be struggling as he and Robert thundered up the high road, feeling the air and wind whistle past their ears like the howl of a banshee.
The long road that led up to the keep was high above the ground and was the only way to the keep which was one of the reasons that it was impregnable. In the sunlight, the entire keep which was perched atop the great peak would gleam stark white in the sun as it was doing now. The moment they passed through the gates which led into the main courtyard of the Eyrie, Jon all but leapt from his horse and threw the reins to one of his waiting servants before dashing inside.
Ned was pacing about in the High Hall, as a grim a look as Jon had ever seen on his youthful face. The youth of fourteen had quietly suggested that he remain behind to keep an eye on Lady Lysa as she was sure to give birth any day now so that he might send word to Jon right away if anything happened.
And Jon was bloody glad he had.
The second son of lord Rickard looked up at their approach and some of the tension seemed to leave his face.
There was no one else in the hall at the time and Jon was glad for it as that meant that there would be no one there to view him in his state of disquiet. It was bad enough that his wards were seeing him this way.
As the high hall was where the household primarily took meals and it was sometime in the afternoon, it was not surprising that the place was empty. It was a long austere hall which contained walls made of blue veined white marble and at the far end of it sat the throne of the Arryns which was a tree carved from weir wood. There were narrow arched windows between the torches mounted on high silver sconces.
But it all seemed a blur to Jon in this moment.
"Am I too late?" He demanded of the quiet wolf in a low sort of growl that had Robert raising an eyebrow at him. Normally Jon was not the forceful or out spoken type but giving that his lady wife was about to give birth to his first child and gods how he hoped it would be a son, he considered it understandable.
Eddard opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by a new voice.
"You are just in time my lord," it said. "Come."
Jon turned to see the man who was acting as his steward, Nestor Royce standing across the room.
The man had a slight smile on his face as if he knew something Jon didn't and it annoyed the aging lord.
"Well what are we waiting for?" He demanded and hurried after the steward who strode down the halls of the Eyrie and towards the apartments he shared with Lysa.
There was a sharp cry from within and Jon's jaw tightened as he quickened his stride towards the doors.
But then there came a sound which made him stop in his tracks as if the Others had stolen his blood.
It was a soft mewling cry as if the voice from which it had come was just learning how to use it and Jon felt the blood drain from his face.
He all but ran to the door of their apartments and flung it open to see the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.
Lysa was lying in the bed across the room, her cheeks pink and her red hair mused, but her blue eyes sparkled like nothing he had ever seen before. He was only caught up in how lovely she looked for no more than a moment however before his gaze was captured by something different and altogether more wonderful.
Lying in his young wife's arms was a small bundle wrapped tightly in white cloth, from which the soft mewling cries emanated.
Jon was barely aware that his knees were shaking and fingers were trembling. To his knowledge he made no sound, but some noise must have emitted from his vocal cords for in that moment, his wife looked up at him.
Her face lit up and her clear blue eyes brightened with something that was caused by more than the light from the sun that was coming in from the window.
"My love, you've come!" She said in a gentle voice even as Jon somehow managed to remain upright. "Come...Come and meet your son."
Jon was barely aware that he was blinking stupidly and wanted to curse himself under his breath. Somehow he rallied however and walked stiffly towards he bed, his steps becoming slower as he walked over on his wife's side and came around to view the small bundle that would change his life forever.
Son...
His son...
By all the gods old and new...he had a son!
With a trembling hand the aging lord of the Vale reached out and gentle drew back the wrap from the top of his son's head so he could look on that little face.
His breath caught in his throat as the sight of his heir met his eyes for the first time.
The small face bore strikingly Arryn features. There was the same shape of the nose and cheekbones as well as the shape of her mouth.
His eyes though...those were all Tully. A deep blue colour gazed back at him and even though Jon had blue eyes, those eyes were a deep a blue as the waters that ran through the Riverlands. He had the faint colour of blonde hair that all Arryn's did which would come in more as he aged but all in all, the boy was a wonderful mix of both of his parents.
Jon's legs nearly gave out beneath him, so great was his emotion and he had to sit down on the bed for fear of stumbling and looking like a fool.
Lysa held the small bundle out to him. "Won't you hold him my love? He looks so like you. He is truly an Arryn of the Vale."
"Aye," the old falcon said hoarsely as the weight of his son settled into his arms. "Except for the eyes Lysa. Those are all Tully."
The red head chuckled. "Indeed. But he will have more of your look as he grows than mine I think."
Jon laughed thickly as the eyes of his firstborn gazed up at him. He seemed oddly focused for a newborn and had turned his head at both the sound of Jon and Lysa's voices.
"He is an Arryn," he said proudly. "And he will one day become the Defender of the Vale."
The couple were quiet for several long moments, simply content to watch their son's face without saying anything."
"Have you thought of a name my love?" Jon asked finally as if loathe to break the silence. "I know we didn't discuss it, but at the moment I am drawing a blank in my own mind."
Lysa chuckled slightly and gave him a fond smile. "I did. It was somewhat sudden but the moment he was placed in my arms, all names that I had thought of before disappeared in favour of this one."
"Very well," her husband said. "Tell me what it is."
"Jasper," his wife replied. "Jasper Arryn, after your father, the heir to the Eyrie and Defender of the Vale."
Jon suddenly found he had to swallow several times before he was able to speak again. The hair on the back of his neck had stood on end as his wife said the name in a low voice.
"It is perfect," he said thickly. "A strong name for a strong son of House Arryn. Thank you Lysa...thank you."
"For the babe or the name?" She asked sounding amused.
"Both," he said softly before kissing her on the forehead and wrapping his son more tightly in his arms before making the door.
He wanted to show his son the High Hall and the throne of House Arryn that he would sit on when he was older.
As soon as Jon opened the door however, He was presented with his two wards, both of whom were on the opposite side of the hallway.
He almost wanted to laugh at the picture they were presenting.
Ned was sitting quietly on the wooden bench there with his hand folded on his lap and his head leaning back against the wall, eyes staring off into space as if in deep thought which he usually was.
Robert on the other hand was pacing the hall like a caged animal. His hands tightened into fists and loosened every few seconds. His head was down and his face scrunched into a frown as he glared at the floor, almost like he was daring it for a fight.
When Jon quietly shut the door behind him, both of his wards jumped and then whirled to face him.
Well...Robert whirled, Ned turned more slowly.
Upon the sight of the bundle in Jon's arms, both young men's faces lit up with smiles, though Robert's was far more pronounced than Ned's.
"Is it- " the heir to Storm's End began but was cut off somewhat gently by Jon who was gazing at the babe's face with a smile.
"Robert," he said. "Ned...I would like to introduce you to my son. Jasper Arryn...the heir to the Eyrie and the future Lord Paramount of the Vale and Warden of the east."
As the two youths gathered around, the small bundle with the deep blue eyes blinked and seemed to focus on the two new faces with surprising ease.
"I believe congratulations are in order Lord Arryn," Ned said somewhat formally and Robert laughed loudly before clapping the wolf on the back.
"Bugger the well wishes Ned! We need to do something. The Eyrie has an heir!"
Jon chuckled. "Aye, there will be a feast as soon as I can arrange it. The Lords of the Vale will need to come to see their new Lord at some point."
Robert looked mightily pleased at hearing this and Ned merely gave a small smile before the heir to Storm's End pulled him off somewhere.
Jon merely chuckled before walking with his new son slowly down the middle of the High Hall and to one of the high arched windows so they could look at the miles of mountains beyond.
"Do you see this Jasper?" The lord whispered. "Someday my son...someday this will all be yours. Rule it well my son, have children of your own, bring honour to the name of Arryn. The East will be yours my son."
And as he lay there in his father's arms, the boy who had once been Neville Longbottom wondered at the strange new world he had come to.
Ω