Jon Arryn was a man of born into the wrong life. In all truth to tell, he'd never wished to be the Lord of the Arryn. He'd enjoyed the lessons he'd received from his father Lord Jasper Arryn and the Eyrie's Maester Coleman there was no doubt. But in his heart of hearts he had always wished to travel to Oldtown in order to further study the mysteries of the world with other learned men. And perhaps even more than that, he wished to become one of the grand maesters who would teach the next generation the secrets of the world and pass to them the knowledge that had come from years of study and dedication that could be used for the betterment of Westeros.

But that was not the life he could live.

Not as an eldest son. Not when his brother wasn't inclined to the martial side of things and where even if his sister had been more inclined to look after the realm than have a family she wouldn't have been respected as a ruler anyway.

The worst of it was that he didn't even care about being a father or having a family with anyone. He had simply never found sexual attraction toward anyone either male or female. His first wife Jayne Royce he had married when he'd still been a blonde young man who possessed all of his teeth. She had died bearing a stillborn daughter that she had hoped would've been the first of several children. She had thought him in love with her. He still felt guilty over the fact that he'd never loved her the way she'd desired, not even after her death.

Perhaps the woman he had loved best, the one he had come closest to 'loving' in such a way had been his cousin and second wife Rowena. Like him, she was a very academic person: more prone to discussing literature or art or theory regarding the wider world. Hence why her parents were relieved when she'd married Jon instead of becoming an old maid covered in the dust from her precious books. Some of his most treasured memories came from remembering when they'd been children and ensconced themselves in the Eyrie's private library in order to find a volume by one of the grand maesters they'd not yet managed to read yet. He had many similar memories of them doing the same so many years later in their marriage, the flickering candles and the steady moonlight their only companions in the quiet of the night.

Those silences had warmed him even as the wind howled atop the mountain.

When she'd died, that was when he'd felt the sense of loss he was meant to have felt when Jayne had passed on. She'd been with him when his hair turned grey. When his teeth deserted him. When the skin around his eyes gained furrows and when his fit stomach began to sag. But she'd never cared. She'd only ever looked at him the same as she ever had: as her friend, her loving cousin that understood her keen mind best. When she was gone, the silences of the library felt oppressive rather than welcoming. The flickering candles only serving as a reminder of the light of her life going out, a pathetic burned out wick all that remained of something that had once been so vibrant and alive.

Her death provided him with his one true regret: that he'd never had a child with her. Not because he had desired her body or anything as shallow as that. But because any child she bore, if it had even half her inquisitive and eager nature, would've proven a teacher's dream. And despite how little their elders had thought of her academic nature, Jon felt with all his being that she had deserved something of her to live on past her death. Better than a sad old man with nothing to show for all his honor and brain but student after student who inevitably died while he inexplicably lived on.

Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon were simply the latest in a long line when he had taken them under his proverbial wing at the Eyrie. They grew as close as brothers despite the seeming contrast in their natures. Robert loud where Eddard was quiet. Eddard thoughtful where Robert was emotional. Robert hot tempered where Eddard was cool headed. Eddard considerate where Robert was blunt.

Sometimes Jon didn't see them as his fosters and instead saw the ghosts of his past standing behind them. Jayne standing behind Robert, trying to get him to act considerately. To be better mannered as befitted a son of his station. Rowena standing behind Eddard, her silent brown eyes watching him carefully, evaluating him and trying her best to puzzle out the enigma that was a polite, level-headed young man.

Thus when Aerys had sent a missive demanding Jon turn them over, he put his foot down. He'd lost loved one and student alike to the whims of nature and war. But this was different. It was not fate or chance but a choice that fell to his hands. Eddard had already lost his father and brother. And he'd be damned if he allowed the same fate to befall the quiet wolf that had looked so lost when he heard the news.

He never regretted supporting those boys through the war that had torn aside the countryside. What he had come to dislike however, was Hoster Tully putting a price on his aid to them. Catelyn being betrothed to the next in line to Winterfell he could at least understand since she was originally meant to wed the murdered eldest Stark boy. But her sister Lysa?

Jon had not sought her as a wife. Lysa did not seek him as a husband. But Hoster had insisted that both sisters had to be betrothed in order for him to be willing to lend his full support. It had caused the thought to cross Jon's mind more than once that perhaps Walder Frey was not so different from his liege lord when it came to his family. He always immediately took that uncharitable line of thinking back however since Hoster had never remarried after Minisa, instead raising the three children who lived after her to the best of his ability. In addition to which, Hoster had sought to get the best possible marriage he could for both his daughters: making sure that even if he and Eddard Stark had highborn names that they were men he could trust to look after his daughters.

Lysa had not seemed to feel the same about her father however. Jon surmised that she had been pining for another before she had been engaged to him. That she had even gone so far as grant him her maidenhead for a gift and that was why Hoster was so desperate to marry her off. None of that mattered a whit to Jon so long as she didn't attempt to have him wear the horned helm of a cuckold.

To her credit, despite her obvious reluctance toward the marriage with Jon as a whole, Lysa had attempted multiple times to have children with him. To the point that it was honestly disconcerting to him. Especially since she would grow more despondent and more upset with every miscarriage, every loss.

He didn't know how to make her happy. At least not until she informed him that her childhood friend Petyr Baelish was living upon the fingers of the Eyrie and would make a good customs man in the port of Gulltown. Willing to do what he could do within reason to ease her discomfit, Jon had appointed him to the position. He had performed beyond Jon's wildest expectations.

So impressed with Baelish's monetary acumen was he, that when the Lord of House Arryn was given the order by Robert Baratheon to put his affairs in order immediately following his coronation and become the hand of the king, he had brought Baelish with his household in order to offer him as a candidate for Master of Coin.

Between trying to prevent Dorne from following through on their rumblings of rebellion, gathering support to put down Balon Greyjoy's ill-advised rebellion, doing what he could to address the problems of the kingdom as a whole when it became more and more clear that Robert would much rather spend his days in the forest or the brothel and keeping the queen from overflowing the court with golden hair, Jon barely noticed when Lysa bore him a son and outside of naming the boy Robert after his kingly ward barely interacted with them. He was getting on in years and the toll was exponentially more than it had been in the Eyrie where all knew and respected his word.

He wasn't sure how he'd get by without the support of Stannis Baratheon and Petyr Baelish.

But as Cersei bore Robert children and Lysa doted on her 'Sweetrobin' as she had dubbed their son, Jon thought things were for the most part under control. That was until Stannis Baratheon came to him privately with his suspicions regarding Robert's children by Cersei. How he believed them to have a different father entirely. Jon had been inclined to dismiss it at first. Cersei Lannister was a self-important arse of a woman, but she wasn't so foolish or arrogant as to cuckold the king himself. But Stannis explained his suspicions. How all of Robert's bastards bore the signature Baratheon black hair. How he was willing to stake his life on if Jon found some of Robert's most recent by-blows (for despite all his lamenting Lyanna's death and his complaining about Cersei's coldness, Robert had not for a moment in his life considered perhaps keeping his breeches up and cock placed firmly behind them) that they too would bear the Baratheon black hair.

So Jon had used Petyr Baelish's money and connections to discover a blacksmith's apprentice by the name of Gendry Waters and a new babe whose mother had simply named her Barra. Sure enough, when he went to observe them and inquire as to their heritage, they both had black hair as Robert, Stannis and Renly possessed. Gendry himself could've been a teenage Robert he looked so much like the king who had once been Jon Arryn's foster.

That convinced him of the truth behind Stannis's word. He'd suggested going to Robert but Stannis had rightly pointed out that if it came down to it, Stannis would be accused of attempting to push his own claim over the queen's children. Not an unheard of tactic in regard to inheritance, especially not when the stakes were seven kingdoms rather than a keep or a small patch of land. Jon had sought a book on lineage written by the meticulous (if a bit dry in writing) Maester Maellon. There he discovered two previous instances of Baratheon marrying Lannister. Both times the union had produced children black of hair.

Stannis left the capital shortly after Jon had borrowed the book from Grand Maester Pycelle, convinced that Robert had retracted what little welcome he extended the middle brother of the Baratheons. Jon grew suspicious when soon after Robert came to him inquiring about plans to foster his son Sweetrobin with Tywin Lannister. He had certainly never made the suggestion and he suspected that Lysa wouldn't have either. At that point, he knew he had to keep the boy safe and prepare him for a slightly more difficult future than he would've liked. And so Robert's inquiry prompted Jon to make plans to foster his son with what seemed to have been the only honest man in King's Landing: Stannis Baratheon.

Lysa had been displeased to say the least.

But Jon had been adamant in his conviction: young Robert was almost reaching his double digit namedays now and so would be expected to rule the Eyrie after Jon passed. He couldn't do that if he still breast fed from his mother and hid behind her skirts crying if one of his dolls was damaged. The Spider had paid him a visit later that night to warn him that he was drawing attention with his inquires and that he perhaps might want to hire a taster.

When Varys refused to name a possible culprit or even whether the plan was real outside of resentful mutterings, Jon had to refuse. He was not going to cower in fear of enemies that may or may not exist who may or may not try to kill him by subtle or straightforward methods. When there was a credible threat he would protect himself against it. Until than it was theoretical.

That same night he began burning inside.

It had started simply enough, with discomfort in his bowls. It had progressed from there to fever and burning inside, his intestines feeling like every movement was stroking a fire in them. Maester Coleman tried to have him purge his body as best he could. Tasting the food he'd eaten, feeling the wine return up his gullet burned almost as much as it had resting in his gut. When Grand Maester Pycelle had stepped in to help as well, Jon was sure he would soon be ok. But even as Pycelle administered tonics and tried to get him to relax, Jon grew worse. Soon he could barely see where he was.

He thought Robert was there at some point, trying to say something to him about illness and death. But he couldn't tell. It was all so much noise in his ears like the crashing of waves upon the shore. His skin felt as though it could combust at any moment from the heat it was generating, his body almost entirely sweated out. He stank to high heaven of his own vomit and shit, his eyes showing him things that were and were not there. At the end he thought he saw Rowena by his side, returned to him at his moment of death. Knowing he was about to pass on but hoping against hope that he could convey the message Robert needed to hear, he tried to tell her.

With desperate strength he gripped her arm as she leaned toward him, a doll from Lysa's child in her hand.

"Tell him…" He rasped with all his strength.

"The seed…is strong." He got out.

She made a questioning sound, though whether it was words or not Jon couldn't tell. He ignored it, repeating his warning to Robert of the strong seed once than twice more. He had no more strength. He collapsed upon his back again. He was burning. He was in agony. He was alone. He wanted to call to his mother. To his father. To his wife. He thought he did. Maybe he did. How would he know? But none of them came to him before the end.

Jon Arryn died alone and in pain, his soul in turmoil and filled with fearful regret.


A/N: And here we at last reach the inciting incident of canon. I'm not going to lie, this actually turned out to be really hard to write. Both from somewhat of a technical standpoint and from an emotional one. Maybe it was just because I kept listening to Peter Gabriel's song Book of Love as I wrote it. I recommend doing the same for any who would be up for it. Hope you guys enjoy it. Remember to review and let me know what you all think. Your support is what makes this creative train go after all. :)