Disclaimer: I don't own the A Song of Ice and Fire series.

Author's Note: Thank you as always to everyone who read the last chapter. I'd especially like to thank those of you who have followed, favourited or reviewed, it really is appreciated The chapter so a little short, I know, but the next one will be longer. I hope that you enjoy the chapter, and please feel free to review and tell me what you thought.

Chapter Twenty: Dark Wings, Darker Words

Alyssa had been gone for a week, and things in the Eyrie were quiet. Artys and Ysilla had ensured that Robert was kept distracted, and Artys was pleased to see that his wife had settled well into her new role. She was an excellent acting lady of the Eyrie, he thought, and discovering that had only made him admire her more.

One morning, as he, Ysilla, and Robert were breaking their fast, they were interrupted by Maester Colemon who came into the room, his face as pale as snow.

"Maester?" Artys asked, concerned. "What is the matter?"

"I...my lord, I have a raven for you, from King's landing..."

Artys rose, truly worried now. What could his father have sent that worried the maester so? He did not know, but as he made his way to Colemon's side, something deep down inside him told him that he really did not wish to know.

"Well, let me see it then." He said, and the maester handed over a scroll, his hands trembling. Artys looked down, noting the royal seal on it and the uneven scrawl in which it was written before he began to read it.

To Artys Arryn,

I never wanted to write this letter, gods know that I loved your father as if he was my own. Still, I have to tell you, and I thought it best that it come for me, than from that fool Pycelle. Your father, Jon Arryn, is gone, lad. A fever took him, if you can believe it. It raged through him quicker than I've ever known. Again, Artys, I'm so sorry to be sending you this, I wish it were not so.

You'll get another letter, confirming you in your lordship of the Vale, and naming you as Warden of the East, not that it matters now. Know that I grieve for him as well, and if you need anything, write to me. I'd not abandon Jon's son, not ever.

Yours,

Robert Baratheon

He had to read it several times before he even began to take in the words. His father was...he was...oh gods...

"Artys?" Artys blinked, and stared at the letter, as if seeing it again would make the words go away. This couldn't be true, it just couldn't be. His father had been perfectly fine only moons ago, how could he possibly be dead? Dead...no, he couldn't think it. Not his father, not yet...not for years yet.

"Artys, what's wrong?" He peeled his eyes away from the letter, and looked at his wife. She was staring at him, no doubt his brother was as well, but he couldn't find the will to speak. There were simply no words.

"Artys, please, you're scaring me." Robert whispered, and Artys's gaze moved to him. His brother's eyes were wide, and he could see tears beginning to form there.

"I..." He managed, trying to put his thoughts into words. "Maester...take my brother for his lessons." He managed, knowing that right now, he could not tell Robert this.

"Yes, my lord," The maester mumbled, and although Robert protested, Ysilla gave him a small, reassuring smile and he followed the maester out of the room.

"Artys, what's truly wrong?" Ysilla asked, reaching out to touch Artys's arm. Her grey eyes were worried, and Artys found it hard to meet her gaze. Wordlessly, he handed her the letter, and looked away, he couldn't bare to read it again.

After a moment, Ysilla finished, and her arms went around him, pulling him close. "Oh, Artys I'm so sorry," She whispered. "I'm so so sorry."

"He can't be gone," Artys whispered, burying his face against his wife's shoulder. "He was fine a few moons back...how can he be dead? It's...it's unthinkable."

"I know," Ysilla murmured. "I know, and I am truly sorry. He...lord Arryn was a good man."

Artys flinched a little at the past tense. He still could not comprehend it, but slowly it was beginning to sink in and he hated that even more.

"He was the best man," He answered. "The best man, and now...now he's gone. What am I to do now? How can I tell Robert? And what of Alyssa? She will reach Highgarden soon, and she'll be alone...oh gods, she'll have no one there with her when she finds out."

Despite his own pain at the news, the thought of his twin, alone and grieving felt even worse. They should have been together for this, but now...now she'd be on her own and that thought was agonizing.

"Artys, it will be all right," Ysilla tried to reassure him. "She has that handmaiden of hers...and I'm sure she'll come back when she hears about this. Then, you can grieve together."

Artys, however, was not reassured. Oh Lys...why did the Tyrells have to play their games now? He sighed, his grief and misery building, and he hoped that the tears that were welling weren't too noticeable.

"Robert...I must tell him," Artys whispered after several long moments. "He has to know."

Ysilla held him closer, and he let her. Some men would think him weak for it, he knew, that at the moment he cared not.

"Tomorrow, my love," Ysilla murmured, her voice gentle. "Tonight, take your own time to grieve. You'll have to be strong for Robert...take time for yourself, first."

Artys wanted to argue, wanted to scream that none of this was right, but he could not. His father was gone...gone, and he had to learn to deal with that. Ysilla was right, he realised as the first tear escaped from his eye. Robert would have to wait... today, today he would take his own time to grieve for the best man, the best father, that anyone could ever ask for.

Receiving the letter about Jon Arryn saddened Catelyn Stark. She knew that Ned would have to be told, and knowing the grief that the news would bring saddened her even more. She had not known the old lord well, but the fact that Ned considered him a father was well known.

Folding the letter, Catelyn rose and went outside to the godswood of Winterfell. She'd never liked the place, but this news certainly could not wait.

Finding Ned polishing Ice by the weirwood, she approached, trying not to let the coldness of this place bother her.

"All these years in the North, and when I come here, I still feel like an outsider." She commented, making Ned turn towards her. His solemn eyes regarded her, and she tried not to think of the news that she was carrying.

"You have five northern children, Cat," Ned told her. "You are no outsider."

Cat smiled a little, hoping that that was true. Sighing, she knew that she could avoid her purpose for coming here no longer.

"I am so sorry, my love," She said softly. "We have had grave news from the capital, Jon Arryn is dead."

Ned's face fell at the news, and the grief in his grey eyes was clear. She felt her own sadness rise again, and she wished that she had known the man, so that she could share in his grief.

"He is dead? How? From what I knew, he was as hale as ever."

Catelyn handed him the letter, feeling that it would explain more than she could. "A fever, it said. I am so sorry Ned."

Ned read the letter, and then he looked up at her. "your sister, have you heard from her? I know that her boy is with Jon's twins, but what of Lysa?"

Catelyn sighed. Lysa, and her son, were a delicate matter. She'd had a rider for the lady Alyssa Arryn some time ago, and had indeed written to Lysa to try to reassure her. Lysa's response however was somewhat hysterical, she had claimed that her son was in danger from his own siblings, which Catelyn doubted. Alyssa Arryn's letter had seemed sincere, and she'd told her sister as much. There had not been a reply, and Catelyn had had to wonder exactly what had happened to Lysa in the capital.

"I'd assume she'd go to the Vale...or, to Riverrun considering how she feels about Jon's other children."

Ned sighed, he'd confirmed to her that Jon's children had been sweet and good when he'd known them. They had been little more than babes then, to be sure, but she hadn't heard anything bad about them. She had even written to her uncle Brynden, who had also had nothing bad to say about them. "Your sister will come around, I'm sure. Her son is safe, and she will see that, in time."

"I certainly hope so." Catelyn murmured, but she truly was not sure of that at all.

"The letter also says that the king is coming to Winterfell," Ned said, glancing down again at the letter. "Him and his whole court."

"Yes," Catelyn sighed. "We will have to prepare for that."

"Aye, we will," Ned nodded. "And I must write to the Eyrie, offer my sympathies. Artys and Alyssa were but babes when I left, but still they were Jon's children. I'll be there for them if I can be."

Catelyn nodded. "They'll appreciate that, I'm sure. Lady Alyssa seemed a good girl by her letter."

"Aye, I'd expect nothing less from Jon's daughter. His son will be a good lord, too."

"I'm sure he will be." Catelyn nodded, and the two fell into a comfortable silence.

Later though, as Catelyn lay in bed, she couldn't help feeling that today was the start of something bigger, the start of something that neither she, nor the rest of those she cared for, were truly not expecting. Whatever it was, she hoped that they were ready to face what was to come.