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A/n 1: Syrax was Rhaenyra's Targaryen's dragon.
A/n 2: "The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms" was written by Grand Maester Malleon.
Warning: There will be multiple references to war, murder (including infanticide) and rape in this chapter.
Chapter 2: Jon Arryn, 283 AC
Jon is unsure of how to begin the conversation he needs to have. He does not want to be here, in Elia Martell's chambers. Seeing the dark circles surrounding dark eyes on that too pale face he recognizes he has to be. "My Princess, I hear you do not take the draughts the Grand Maester makes."
As if justifying his point, she winces and lets out a sharp gasp in her effort to sit up straighter. And yet, "You heard correctly, my lord."
Not understanding, he probes, "Why do you refuse?"
Her face twists and her voice being barely above a whisper forces him to lean forward. "I can take no potions from that man's hand."
He nearly sighs at the answer which gives him nothing. He tries again. "You are not well."
This time he gets a raised eyebrow. "Perhaps my lord is unaware how it has been often said that I have been 'not well'."
It is only by virtue of age, he does not react. 'Sickly'. 'Frail'. 'Weak'. He had been aware of things said of her long before she collapsed in front of the audience at the Kingslayer's trial. This, however, cannot continue when much scrutiny is upon them because of how she is in their midst.
Before he can respond, she adds, "I would thank you for your concern; however, my lord you, no doubt, have greater concerns than my health."
Her effort to speak louder is no gift. The rough quality of her voice makes her sound as though she had been crying. He detests this reminder. He does need one. What he despairs at is the truth behind the accusation. Dorne may or may not have the numbers, but, the men who fought under his banner, Ned's, and Robert's are tired. For her to be irreparably ill in his care will cause complications none of them can afford.
He breathes deeply. "Princess, it would trouble my mind to no end to see you become more unwell."
"And it would trouble my mind to take anything that man gives me."
Still confused at her vehemence, his brows knit together. "Why?"
Again with that brittle tone, she starts, "It was at his foul council those monsters were able to- "
She stops abruptly. He flinches at her choked sob. Damn it all!
When he can look at her once more, wetness has gathered in her eyes. And still, when she speaks again there was fire amidst the tears. "If you want me to take anything that man makes then you will have to hold me down and force it into my body."
He wonders if she thinks he was here to be unkind knowing there is nothing that he can say or do if it was true. He takes another breath. "No one will force anything upon you, my princess."
"And perhaps, my lord, someone will force me and be pardoned for it all the same."
It is not because he is unused to such frankness from a woman he flinches again. He is too old to think there is justification for everything, be it his doing or anyone else's. Though he wants to argue that he pardoned no one, silence is pardon enough. "Very well, I will make other arrangements for your droughts."
There was no relief in her expression. She drops her head. It was not thanks. He would not know what to do or say even if it was. This is why he prompts, "Is there anything else I can do for you?"
For a while she says nothing. Just when he was preparing to leave, she looks at him imploringly. "Since my lord is here I have a request, if you are amenable."
He fights the urge to sigh, wishing he had the anger rather than this politeness from her. It would stain his heart less. "What is it, Princess?"
She wets her lips. Was she nervous? He nearly grimaces at his foolishness. Of course she was; any woman in her situation would be. "If it pleases him, I wish to see the King, at his leisure, of course."
Shocked and alarmed, he blurts, "Why?"
"Now that things are settled in the city-"
She falters, breathes deeply, and starts again, "There is another matter which should be brought to your attention. I think the limits of the good sense of not acting with urgency has been stretched enough."
Ever since the farce of the Kingslayer's trial she has worried him and this matter with Pycelle does not help. Only the gods know what she would say now. "Why?"
As she takes another rattling breath her eyes shine more. "I only as for ask for some moments. Fear not, I do not wish to speak to His Grace about the justice denied me." Gods…
He breathes deep. "No one denies you, my Princess."
The lie burns on his tongue as it does on his mind. Though he said it with a clear voice, he cannot bring himself to look her in the eye. Robert denies her justice. He denies her.
As High as Honor. He had always tried to live up to the words. Thinking of the Targaryen children and of how he helps to hold her here to prevent the unleashing of her brothers' wrath, when it comes to Elia Martell, he fails. Each day he hears about the ills done at the hands of men paid by Lannister gold and dismisses them as a cost of war, he fails. Still, he cannot admit it, least of all to her.
Even knowing the reply was coming, he stiffens. "Then, Lord Arryn, where are the heads of Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch? After all, that is what rapists and murderers deserve."
He fights the urge to look away. Damn Robert and damn whoever told her he said those things! Yet, it is not just that. He cannot be in the room with the woman and not think about things he failed to think of before it was too late. He already lost his nephews. Had events unfolded differently, it could have easily been Alys or her girls in Elia Martell's stead. One of them died in the childbed because of the shock and the child died too. The mere thought of something more..."We cannot give them to you."
Once more a hint of surprising steel creeps in her words as she asks, "Cannot or will not?"
He could give her a new healer, comfortable surroundings, and the freedom to think and speak ill of him. He cannot give her proper justice. The voice at the back of his mind he tries to push down tells him he gives her no justice at all.
She laughs; a harsh sound he has not heard since the Kingslayer's trial. Thinking he is a cause of it nearly makes him ill. "No matter, I know what justice is worth to men who smile at the corpses of children."
He wants to look away at her too-knowing eyes, yet, he forces himself to continue to look at her.
"Every supplicant, and a guest in his home, has the right to desire to be heard by the King. I am still that, aren't I?"
He only just stops himself from grimacing. To let her see any reaction would only work in her favor, whatever her aim was. And he has shown her enough. Even then, she had the right of it. How different was he from Aerys if he did not give prisoners their due? However, nothing of the question explains she would want to see Robert. "Not everyone goes before a king. You might know this better than most."
The bruises still on her face makes him think there was more disdain the curl of her lips seem to mean. For all that he is thrice wed and has sisters, this woman, who has all the reason to hate him and his, he does not know and she confounds him. Was there ever such a more perilous adversary than a noblewoman born and bred, familiar with the ways of court with legitimate grievances?
"I have gone in front of kings even when I wished it not. However, tell King Robert I have something for him. And you, for that matter. You will want to know and he will want to see me. It is of the utmost importance."
Though he senses danger, Gods help him, he was curious. She appears so sure he would want to know. Thinking of how much wildfire they discovered he recognizes too well there was a great danger dismissing her claims. "Tell me, then! What do you have to tell him?"
To his shock and growing anxiety, this time, a sneer plays at her lips. "The truth behind Lyanna Stark's disappearance."
His eyes widen. All this time she knew? His voice sharpens, "You know where she had been taken?"
Even with the air of sorrow and grief about her, now her dark eyes seem to shine with something else. "I have conjecture regarding where, however, 'taken', my lord?"
Before he can even nod or question what she meant by the repetition, she laughs. Was it full of malice or madness? Perhaps both? Was it some ploy? What does it mean?
He finds himself bracing himself for what he does not know when she shakes her head with her even, white teeth bared, framed around dark, twisted lips. "No, my lord, not she was not taken, she went with.
"My husband", she says, shrugging, before going on, "Was with Oswell Whent and Arthur Dayne when he went missing, but, what is important for you to understand is that she went with them willingly."
"What!" It sounds no better the second time he hears it, but, Robert…
"I swear it. She went with them by her own choice, Your Grace." For all that she sounds demure there was a light in her eyes which caused him no end of worry.
"You dare fill my ears with filth and lies!"
Showing little disturbance by Robert's outburst, her chin rises. "I have letters which prove I do not lie, though I grant there is plenty of filth tied to this." There was something so ugly in her expression, and something far too honest that Jon feels his dread continue to grow.
Robert growl out, "What letters? It is bad enough that beast took her, but, he wrote to her-"
Though he was certain she found nothing humorous her eyes almost seem to smile. "I am sure there were such letters; however, any he wrote to her would be in her home not mine. Your betrothed wrote to my husband at Dragonstone. It was not as though they had much time together after that damnable tourney. It would have to be letters, wouldn't it?"
The only sound is Ser Barristan's sharp intake of breath. How can she shrug as if these revelations were nothing, as if Lady Lyanna's disappearance did not start this mess? She adds, "I daresay you will find the letters most illuminating." The last word was drawled out as if the term could not possibly be restricted to the sentiment alone.
Cold triumph seeping into her tone, she goes on, "You are fortunate I found the damned things before Aerys all but dragged me and half the household here to answer for the crime of my husband's disappearance, but, I know my suffering then is of no greater consequence to you than mine now. Yet, I think you should know what went on behind your backs."
Gods. What if she was telling the truth?
Stepping near her, Robert growls out again, "Where are these damned letters then? Show them to me. No games or I will forget that you are a highborn woman."
The Lord Commander steps forward before hesitantly stopping, looking unsure. It is just as well. Robert might not take it kindly and it seems the lady wants none of his protection. "You have already forgotten it, Robert Baratheon. Everyone has forgotten it. If they had remembered, the corpses of Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch would be pecked at by vultures by now."
While the new Lord Commander nearly looks ill at the reminder, Robert lets out a growl.
Her face hardens further, as she waves her hand around at the rooms she had not left since the Kingslayer's trial. "I am playing no games. Perhaps I should. After all, what else do I have but the privilege to be surrounded by unjust men like you? If I was playing games at least then I might earn death and it would get me to my children quicker. Damn it all, Baratheon, haven't I paid enough for the crime of simply being Rhaegar Targaryen's wife? Why must I be guilty of being a liar, too?"
Robert purples dangerously. It takes all his and Ser Barristan's quickness to ensure Robert does not step even closer to her. For a moment it was a near thing when Robert easily shakes their efforts away. Only, after she tells them of a place in the Maidenvault he storms out of the room. Ser Barristan gives her one forlorn look before leaving, obviously to chase after Robert.
He has no reason to think she tells the truth and yet… "There are letters?"
She looked down at her hands and his eyes follow to where the wounds of her unsuccessful struggle with Clegane are still visible. He looks up quickly only to see her damnably wet eyes boring into him.
"Since you have been here, have I ever lied, Lord Arryn?"
Thinking of the wildfire they still are uncovering and the words spoken mere moments ago, the answer is 'no'. Still, he adds, "You withheld the truth."
She nods as if was nothing. "I did."
Even as he tells himself to keep his voice steady, his anger rises. "Do you know where she might be?"
Though it was little more than an unsteady huff which contained no levity, she laughs. "As I said, I can only guess. Men rarely confide to their wives about their mistresses, you see."
Mistresses. Gods, perhaps they was better off not knowing, but, there was nothing he can do about it now. He must know now.
"For what my word might be worth to you now, I think my husband took her to Dorne."
As the thought filters through his mind he sees her smile ruefully as though she knows exactly what he thinks. "Of my husband's two constant companions, Ser Arthur was his dearest and Ser Arthur is of Dorne."
She goes on, "If they wanted to hide, there is no better place to do so than where no one else would think to look."
Even with her morose expression, she nods to herself as if to reassure that her reasoning is sound.
It is as sickening as it is helpful and yet all he can ask is, "Why do you not know?"
She presses her lips together and then she sighs. "My husband never did tell me, 'for my safety' he claimed. I suppose he feared I would find it too easy to reveal the truth if I had known. As it is, I do not think I wanted to be certain, even if I was going to get an answer. I do not think I want to know now." Her smile is a miserable twist of the lips.
Inconceivable! "Why not? Did you not press for information?"
"Is somehow learning that my husband not only abandoned my children and me to play at being the Prince of Dragonflies with someone else's woman playing the part of Jenny, especially if it is done in the lands of my people, going to please me?"
"It is not for your pleasure you should have pressed further. Do you not think it important for Lady Stark to be found? Did you not think it something you should know?" Did she not think they would have liked to know? Why had she kept silent for so long even if she only thought this?
Her expression shifts and she leans forward. Somehow it makes her seem larger of frame than he knows hers to be.
To his horror, she huffs out a disbelieving laugh. "I am under no obligation to give thoughts of Lyanna Stark's location or safety precedence in my mind, especially since I found those damned letters. As for not saying anything about her, no one since Brandon Stark bothered mentioning finding her at all."
His eyes widen as she hits her mark. "Princess-"
She gives him a considering look. "No, in the interest of fairness, I should say that my former good-father sought to find her and my husband; however, I severely doubt he had their safety in mind. In fact, I am sure of the opposite."
If he was not so shocked at the reply he would have acknowledged the flush of shame which fills him. He had not asked and this…"Think for a moment, Lord Arryn. I learned too late of my husband and her duplicity. Even then, I had to keep silent, for who could I tell? King Aerys? I do not have to tell you of his cruelty. What do you think her fate might have been if he got his hands upon her? And after not too long a time it ceased to matter what started it all and as I said, this is merely an impression I have."
There is a noise. He turns to see Ser Barristan. For the unvoiced question he gets a nod from the Lord Commander.
"Why would you keep this knowledge from us until now? You had days if not weeks. You told us of the wildfire plot."
"I have no reason to think she is in any danger. The city was going to burn. You know there is a vast difference."
Does he? Perhaps she was lying. If she was not…
Anger at the possibility of being duped building, for the first time he does not resist the urge to growl at her. "Why are you only telling us about Lyanna Stark now?"
How can she look shocked he would even ask her? She frowns. "Why should I have when I had other things to think about?"
He cannot believe what he is hearing! "You refused to say this because you had other things to think about? Do you not know how important it is for us to find her? To hear the truth from her own lips."
The woman closes her eyes, her face looking as pained as it did earlier. She takes a shuddering breath. "Before Jaime Lannister killed him my so-called good-father was going to kill me one way or another. My children are dead. I will never even get to see my brothers again. Hearing the truth of how this all started from Lady Stark's lips might be important to you. What good is it going to do for me? In fact, I am shocked you would demand I ask questions more when it is only I who has answers, though you do not ask the questions you should be."
He frowns. What did she mean? Was she speaking of the wildfire? He could not have known. How could he? He only knew to ask her about Lyanna Stark now. He turns to Ser Barristan who looks as nonplussed as he feels. "What questions am I not asking?"
Why does the look on her face appear to be pity now? What could he do about it if it was? "To start, you have not asked me what dragon was nearest your heir when Aerys had him killed."
Jerking backwards he barely registers Ser Barristan's severe gasp. It takes everything in him to push down the bile which threatens to surge forward. "Why should I want to know that? Why would you tell me that?" Just thinking of it makes his eyes burn.
She struggles to sit up again. "Perhaps I am being too cruel. Why should you ask such questions? After all, if you are full of will enough not to ask why should a man go as he pleases after he uses a girl of three as a pincushion though he uses a sword instead of a needle or that another who murdered a babe and defiled his mother with the blood on his hands does, then why would you ask if your nephew started screaming before his skin start to blister from the strength of the flames, whether the stench of his burnt flesh had not faded before the stench of another's replaced it, or that if I feared the same fate. You could ask all that and yet, all you want to is why a knight would kill a murderer, why I do not drink the potions made by a sycophantic letch, and why should I be concerned about the whereabouts of a willful woman-child."
She sits back and takes a deep breath. "Lord Arryn, what could she possibly say or do now that would matter? Having her brought back here is not going to make me stop remembering the humiliating way my husband treated me or Aerys dragging me back here to answer questions I do not know the answers to. It is not going to help me forget how each moment I am awake I imagine what the sound of my daughters terrifying screams would have sounded like or that each time I look at my empty hands I see my son's blood. Find her, do not find her, what difference is it going to make?"
Not trusting himself, he steps back. He has no interest in remaining longer than he has to. It had been a mistake to come.
Before he can leave he hears a cough. Then, he hears only one more word: "Syrax."
He closes his eyes and he shivers. He hates himself because Elbert died in flames and here he was. What right did he have to feel hot? To feel weak?
And still, he turns back to the woman. "It was by design?"
He phrases it as a question though he can see she knows it was not. "These past years, each innocent who died in this fortress did so by design."
Did she think he could forget? He spits out, "Why do you tell me any of this?"
"I remember what Aerys once said, 'What good is pride if you have nothing else'. Even when I do not like it, that monster was right. I do not have justice for my children, but, I know I have a body and heart which ache constantly. I have that and answers." The grim twist of her mouth masquerading for a smile is ugliest thing he as ever seen.
"Lord Arryn, my mind is troubled enough without trying to carry the weight of other people's unpunished lies and crimes. I am used up, discarded, soiled, and alone. You want to know what I know and there are things I should tell you; so, I will tell you. Perhaps it is selfish of me, but, I have told you what I suspect because I do not have much of anything else for you."
The words which came after that ugly smile were even more hideous. He tries not to be, yet, he is thankful for the lack of that damnable wetness from her. He feels enough of it at the back of his own eyes.
He is not supposed to be this man. He went to war to give justice to innocents, to protect them, not to see the vanquished offer up whatever tribute they can manage to in fear of being denied decency or mercy. There was a foul taste in his mouth at the thought. He knows she does not have to fear it.
"Princess-" He stops.
Though he wants to say 'I do not need anything more from you' he cannot bring himself to. If he said them they would be a lie. The truth is he wants no more answers from her. He has had enough.
Saying no more, he leaves the room and the woman inside it thinking every time he leaves them, it was as though a taint follows him out. He wonders if it ever will be different.
The knock on the door came too late and not quick enough.
"Jon, I was told you wanted to see me."
He considers himself fortunate Ned's grey eyes were not staring at him. They were looking at a copy of Malleon's tome which was one of the few things taking up temporary occupancy in his solar.
"Why do you have these?"
He takes a deep breath. This is easy. It gives him something to do except glare the letters before him. Dark winds dark words, men say. The words are not dark and that is what makes them darker.
He decides calling attention to them can wait. Waiting a little longer probably will not hurt anyone. Probably not even Lyanna Stark. "They are for Elia Martell."
Ned's brows furrow. "Her books?"
"And some jewelry."
"Why?"
To explain, he says, "Why not? It is not as though Robert will have any use for them, the books or the jewels. His future queen, whoever she may be, has no need for Targaryen pieces. Robert certainly will not abide by such a thing. He does not want to abide by her presence and if she is not welcome I do not see why her things will be. It only makes sense for them to be returned to her."
To replace children they are paltry offerings, but, whatever he can give her he will.
If anything Ned looks more confused. "What do you mean Robert will not abide by her?"
"I don't care where you put her. Put her in a manse, put her in a hole, I want her gone. Get her away from me!"
"I have been told I am to acquire new lodgings for her in the city. She will be guarded of course, but, Robert does not want her in the Red Keep." Though he does not say it, he thinks it might be easier on him as well.
"Are you selling them to provide for it?"
It was only the horrified look on Ned's face which stops him from snapping back about his not being so craven. Ned will likely think it of him soon enough. "No. I would pay for it myself if I have to, but, that is not why you are here."
Ned jerks slightly. "Why am I here?"
He thinks, 'May the Gods give him strength for this.'
He gestures to the table. "Sit. Drink. Do that first." He does not say Ned may need it for what he has to hear. He had. Furious and hurt, Robert certainly took his fill and more.
When Ned settles into his chair, his former ward peers at him, concerned. "What is it Jon, you seem troubled."
Troubled? He is more than troubled. The ache in his head from this morning only worsened. He does not know where to begin. Rather than speak he nearly shoves the sheets of paper at Ned. He does not want to touch them any more, like the words said to him, the words written on them written by a different woman are burned into his mind.
Though he takes them, Ned's brow furrow. "What are these?"
He takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. There was nothing for it. "Is it your sister's writing?"
Ned looks up, shocked. "What?"
Harsher than Ned deserves, waving a hand at those sheets of parchment, he repeats, "Is that your sister's writing?"
"My sis-What? What is this, Jon?"
In the face of Ned's confusion, once again Jon wishes he did not have to do this, yet, he must. "Read. You will see."
Elia Martell had not lied. When he read those ugly words he wanted to burn the paper they were written on. He did not know whether or not to be thankful Robert had not torn the letters in his rage. They will not be easy for Ned to read, but, this almost-son to him cannot remain in darkness. They all remained in darkness for too long.
Soon enough, too soon and perhaps not soon enough, Ned's eyes go wide in shock and horror.
When he was done, Ned sinks back into his chair and closes his eyes. His face is tinged green. He had seen this before, only once, when Ned found out about Lord Rickard and Brandon's deaths. He was livid. What must Ned feel?
"What does this mean?" That was the question, was it not?
Again, he takes a steadying breath. "It means we were under a great misapprehension." It is more than misapprehension, but, there are no words he can think of for this betrayal of Lady Lyanna's.
Instead, he speaks on the matter at hand. "We believe she is in Dorne."
Ned sits up. "What! Why? How do you come to that conclusion?"
"That is what Princess Elia believes."
"She told you this?" Ned sounds dubious. Jon cannot blame him because he had not wanted to believe her, and still, certain other things were highly suggestive.
If they went North, someone loyal to the Starks would have discovered them by now and so it had to be South. It was not likely they left for Essos. Anyone else who could tell them where the girl was happened to be dead or likely with the girl. While he certainly has no reason to trust Elia Martell's goodwill, where else could that girl be they have not looked?
"She produced the letters. She also offered some insight we clearly lacked. Prince Rhaegar had two companions, one from the Riverlands and the other Dornish. Your sister went missing on the way to Riverrun and none of her companions knew where she went. It would be too easy to find them if they remained in the Riverlands. Who would dare look for one's mistress in the place of one's wife's people? Who would even think someone could be so shameless?"
He knows the words are cruel, even before he sees Ned's stricken expression, but, he is in no mood to be generous the dead fool of a prince or that thoughtless, selfish girl. What had she been thinking?
As angry as he was, he nearly snorted. If Prince Rhaegar took leave of his senses what could he expect from that girl? Those letters showed him enough she had not been thinking of her family, her honor or that of her house, or anyone else's.
Thankfully, a knock interrupts the need for them to speak. "Enter!"
His squire shuffles in, "My Lord, you sent for me?"
Ned startles, but, Jon has something he needs to do, no matter how much he finds it troubling. Pah! All of this is troubling. "I need you to deliver a message to Princess Elia."
The boy's eyes widen as do Ned's. "But-"
He clenches his jaw. There are too many unanswered questions and he does not have the patience for his squire's as well. Not today. Once more his anger is directed to where it should not be, but, he needs this done. "You are to go to Princess Elia's chambers and simply deliver a message."
Still, apprehensive, the lad nods, "What is it, my lord?"
"Tell her to expect me on the morrow."
When alone again with Ned asks, "You mean to see her?"
The doubt he hears causes him to snap back, "Do not concern yourself with her." He does not say, 'Concern yourself with your sister', but, only just.
Still hearing it, Ned retorts, "There was a price for her cooperation."
Even if divulging her secrets serves her interests rather than theirs, the uncovering of wildfire alone proves Elia Martell's worth, especially to those who lived in this city. The tale of her kindness to the Kingslayer spread out of King's Landing. There were still far too many who remembered the better days under Aerys. Treat this Dornishwoman more ill and they'd have another mess on their hands. Eyeing the letters, he has enough of a mess to content with.
"Nearly everyone is paying a price. Some already paid steep enough prices."
Ned opens his mouth, obviously to make some sort of objection. To prevent it, he proposes, "She is going to remain in King's Landing for the foreseeable future and whatever can be done so that Dorne grumbles less is best for us all."
Jon hopes Ned will let the matter of Elia Martell drop. Robert's rule was too new to afford more scandal and this would provide enough of it. Robert wants her out of the way. What keeps the Dornishwoman sweet and quiet is good enough for him at present.
"These could be forgeries."
He already considered that, however, Ned's reaction to them has already put paid to possibility. Yet, he asks, again. "Is it her writing or isn't it?"
Ned frowns. Then, he admits, "It looks very much like it, but, it might not be hers. Even if it is, this could still be a mistake."
He wished he could share in Ned's hope, yet, he cannot. "Did you know she had not wanted to marry Robert?"
The way Ned does not look at him tells him what he already knew. "When the match was once proposed I knew she had reluctance. I thought it would lessen in time and she had come south. There was no reason to think she would not have gone through with it."
"Did you not hear the woman Jon, 'Any letters he wrote to her would be in her home. My so-called betrothed was probably laughing along with that whoreson'."
There is no mistaking it when the words are clear as glass. "I understand she is your sister, Ned, and you would have everyone think the best of her. And perhaps, as you say, it might not be her writing. What cannot be mistaken is how one of the notes speaks of where she would be staying on the road to Riverrun for your brother's wedding. There are not so many people who would know that and fewer who would be familiar enough about her to know that there is nothing save a reluctance to marry Robert and more than one declaration of love towards the prince in those wretched things. Which part are we supposed to be mistaken about? You must find her and bring her here."
Ned jerked sharply, his face tinged grey as his eyes. "Is this your command? Bring her here? So that Robert would question her as one does a criminal?"
Had this been any other circumstance Jon would have liked to comfort and reassure Ned, but, he cannot. Thinking of how distraught Robert had been, remembering his dead nephews, and the men under his command who died on the battlefield trying to get justice for those who were butchered because of what he knows now to be the selfishness of a small pack of fools, he cannot help but bark out, "You might not need to hear her answers, Robert does and he is not the only one. Even if you do not need to know the truth from her lips, there are others who do and it is not as though we can get answers from Aerys or Rhaegar. I have a right to know what she had been thinking if she did at all."
Ned's eyes narrow. "What rights do you mean?"
In this moment he cannot be moved. "I have the right to ask her if all of this was worth the deaths of my heirs and my men."
Ned's eyes widen. He whispers, "Aerys is responsible for that."
"Do you think I have forgotten? Or could ever forget. Let me tell you, Ned, I know more about the nature of those deaths than I ever should. I love you and I know you love your sister, but, do not pretend there would have been a war or that before it Elbert would have been here for Aerys to kill if your sister had not gone missing with the Targaryen Prince. Neither would your father or your brother. Do you not think I deserve to know whether she thinks it was worth it?"
He knew they were the wrong words to say and still he could not find it in him to take them back. Breathing heavily, he is only too relieved this once almost-son to him thinks better of saying something and leaves, closing the door sharply behind him.
Sitting back in his chair and closing his eyes Jon sighs again, feeling every bit as old and tired and more.
He could have reacted better. He should have reacted better, but, damn it all, there was only so much he could do.
Try as he might he cannot help and stare at those wretched letters once more. His hands clench at his sides.
He stooped so low as to marry a soiled girl to give him men to fight a war to avenge Elbert, one that he continued to fight in memory of dear, fallen Denys, and in the name of his one-time wards who still dreamt of the time they would be family. Now he knows Elia Martell was telling the truth of Lyanna Stark. What was it all for?
As High as Honor. He lived those words, but, gods, these days they weigh upon him like chains. His honor had been corrupted enough of late and he does not know if anything he does will remedy that.
He watches two crates being set in Princess Elia's room. Thankfully, she looked better than she had the last time he had been in these rooms. Today she was seated upright in a low couch watching the proceedings with something akin to anticipation.
That in itself was not surprising. Jaime Lannister's presence was. 'Ser Jaime had been kind enough to sit with me' she had said, when he entered the room. He wondered how the man spent his time. Even if he was reinstated to the once proud order, Robert certainly had not wanted the Kingslayer underfoot or anywhere near him.
He wanted to order the knight out of the room, but, she seemed to accept his presence and he decided against it. At any rate, a Jaime Lannister hovering at the elbow of Elia Martell would be too busy to kill a king. Still, it was irritating when the younger man caught him staring the Kingslayer glared at him.
"Thank you, Lord Arryn."
Before he can respond she turns to the knight. "Ser Jaime, if you would." The knight moves so quickly to put the first tome in her hands it was as if he would rather do nothing else. He wonders at how this is the same knight who sneered at him since he entered the rooms.
For moment she smiles and he thinks he did at least one thing correctly. "My Aegon loves-" Whatever tension in his back which eased returned all too quickly when she corrects, "loved it when I read him passages from this one. Didn't he, Ser Jaime?"
There was a tremble in the man's wrist and the voice, usually filled with hauteur, sounds cowed. "Yes he did, Princess." Whatever eagerness the Kingslayer had when he handed her the tome vanished when she put the book down so quickly it was almost as if she threw it. On the knight's face was a look so pained he almost felt pity for the man. At the trial he wanted to see any signs of guilt and remorse. This…
Before he says anything, in favor of ignoring the books she turns to the jewelry a shade too willing. He does not question it. To his confusion she starts separating the pieces into two piles. No one says a word until she is finished and she points to one. "Lord Arryn, if you could send those to Sunspear, I would be most appreciative of it."
Not understanding, he queries, "To Sunspear?"
This time when she tries to smile he knows better than to trust it will remain. "I brought them with me before I was wed. Once I thought to give them to my daughter." He did not have to be a seer to predict how quickly she would pale and her eyes would shut tightly in a new wave of grief. He knows she will blink the tears back.. When her eyes open again and she when speaks her voice is flat, "I think it only right my nieces have them."
There was no satisfaction in seeing Jaime Lannister nearly hang his head.
There was no sense of satisfaction in him at all. Robert drowns his sorrows by going to hunt after losing himself in wine and women. "Do what you want, Jon. I don't care". When Ned left with a handful of his men to search for his sister, their farewells, at best, can be called stilted. Now, there was this.
How many burdens must he shoulder? How many people's pain can he erase? What more must he do?
He doubts he will ever have an answer.
For now, there is an answer he has to give, "It will be done."
She smiles again. It was not a true one, not that he expected it would be. "Thank you for being so kind to me, Lord Arryn."
He can do nothing except nod his head thinking the taint still remains.