286 AC was an ill year for the Hand of the King. At the age of 78 name days he lost his lady wife Lysa Tully and their only son Lord Robert Arryn, nicknamed Robyn to an accident. Lady Lysa lost her balance while carrying the only four name days old Robert and both fell from the south balcony of the Tower of the Hand.

I only met Lady Arryn a handful of times and had seen Robyn even less, so I could not tell you anything of importance even if I wanted to, but I grieved the loss Lord Jon felt. Throughout his life he now had lost three wives and four children. With Robyn's death Harold Hardyng, his nephew through his younger sister Alys, was once more the heir to the Vale.

Their death followed just days after the passing of the Master of Coin, Lord Petyr Baelish, who had died of the bloody flux after a visit to the city. Many of the nobles read ill portents in these deaths and rumors circulated through the city that they were only foreshadowing a larger calamity.

For me that was just the ill-done talk of the frightened masses but my mother was less sure. She kept my younger siblings even closer to her side and sent servants to inquire regularly about my health.

Knowing her temperament she would have liked to send me additional guards and servants for my household but my uncle, Ser Jaime, was thankfully able to talk her out of it.

In any case, the death of both Lady Arryn, as well as the legitimate heir to the Vale required more than a funeral in King's Landing. Their remains needed to be escorted to the Eyrie, where they would join all the other Arryn's before them. I also suspected that Lord Jon felt pressed to consolidate his power in the Vale and settle the succession.

My father reluctantly allowed it, he had grown very accustomed to Lord Jon running the kingdom for him, and the prospect of having to deal with whiny nobles for weeks on end did not appeal to him. I even suspect that had a I been slightly older, he would have handed me the position of temporal Hand to me. Not that I totally escaped taking action. A rather… peculiar problem fell directly into my lap only days after Lord Jon had left King's Landing.

296 AC, King's Landing, Red Keep

Joffrey sighed deeply, he was exhausted from the events of the last days and he felt guilty. He may have not intended the death of Lysa and Robyn, but he killed Baelish which was the trigger for Lysa. Joffrey really should have thought more carefully about what that would do to the mad Tully daughter. It wouldn't have stopped his actions, Baelish needed to go, but it wouldn't have cost him much to have the Lady Arryn watched.

Lord Jon had practically aged 20 years in the four days since his mad wife had killed herself and their four year old son. It was an awful affair trying to make sense of why she had done it.
Thankfully there had been no concrete evidence that she had an affair with Baelish. Instead Lord Jon thought that she was just upset about the death of an old friend and then lost her balance. A tragic accident according to Pycelle.

At least Joffrey hoped that Lord Jon thought that. In any case, it didn't make it easier to watch him as he had to write letters to his in-laws as well as his banner men about the death of his wife and child. He looked defeated and tired, not at all like the powerful Lord Hand, Protector of the Vale.

When he announced that he would accompany their bodies to the Eyrie, Joffrey wasn't surprised but it was far from ideal in the current situation. At least they all agreed to postpone any and all Small Council Meetings until Lord Jon returned from his journey to the Vale.

Joffrey stood beside Robert while they watched the Arryn party leave the Red Keep, the two caskets adorned with Arryn cloaks that contained the bones of Lysa and Robyn in the middle. Joffrey was really glad that Baelish bones had been sent to his keep by ship a day before and wouldn't travel with the Arryn party.

"What a fucking mess." Robert grunted out.

And Joffrey could only nod in silence.

1857 AC, King's Landing, Red Keep

After the rather enjoyable afternoon at the Old Gate fantasy fair Hedda and Jeyne called it quits sometime before seven and returned to Jeyne's apartment to get a full night of sleep. With their colleagues arriving soon, they wanted to start bright and early to get some work done.

Hedda once again read the sentence she had translated some moments ago.

Lady Lysa lost her balance while carrying the only four name days old Robert and both fell from the south balcony of the Tower of the Hand.

"I have been in the Tower before. I don't know… this sounds… well I can't put my finger on it, but it sounds… wrong." She said to Jeyne, who read the passage over her shoulder.

"The south balcony… let me call up the information we have on it." Jeyne said before she opened the Red Keep intranet and searched for the Tower of the Hand.

Soon there were several images about the various renovations and changes throughout the centuries.

"Hhm, it looks like the south balcony wasn't changed since the initial construction of the Tower, only some repairs of the stone work."

Hedda nodded, "Do you see what I mean. The balustrade is what, a bit over hip high for you? You are about the average size for women at that time. Even if she lost her balance, the balustrade should have stopped any kind of fall. Or at least slowed her down enough for a servant to hear her scream and help her. Don't you think?"

Jeyne hummed thoughtfully, "So you think Joffrey is lying?"

"Not necessarily. Remember Joffrey is what, 10 years old at the time? If that's the official story he was told I don't think he would have investigated or even thought about it."

…I only met Lady Arryn a handful of times and had seen Robyn even less…

"This passage here sums it up perfectly. He didn't know them, so why wouldn't he take this tragic accident as a fact… but Jeyne, I don't think that this was what happened."

"So you think she was pushed?"

"I cannot tell you … it's just a feeling for now…I get those sometimes when a narration doesn't quite… fit." Hedda said softly.

Jeyne shrugged her shoulders, "It's certainly something we could look into at a later date."

…Their death followed just days after the passing of the Master of Coin, Lord Petyr Baelish…

"Another death." Jeyne said thoughtfully, "Though not an uncommon one. Bloody flux, that's dysentery right? It happened, even to nobles. Especially in a cesspit like King's Landing."

"The Master of Coin is an important position, that must have been a blow to the court… wait, didn't Tywin say that he was a ward of Riverrun when he researched the Small Council around that time? Lysa and Petyr… they probably grew up together…" Hedda said slowly.

"And? He died of a disease and she days later from a fall… wait… do you think she killed herself and her son after his death. An affair?"

Hedda snorted dryly, "That's just conjecture Jeyne… on the other hand, Jon Arryn was 66 to her 18 when they married. She couldn't have been happy about that… and then she had trouble conceiving. Though not surprising with Lord Arryn's age."

Jeyne hummed thoughtfully and then opened the online version of Lineages, after a few moments of searching she said, "I found him. Petyr Baelish was the last of his House… Cause of death… the bloody flux." Jeyne said, before she snorted loudly, "Oh man. You have got to see this!"

PETYR BAELISH, first of his name, born to YORBERT BAELISH and ALAYNE BAELISH in the year 268 after Aegon's Conquest. Black of hair, brown of eyes. Named Master of Coin in the year 292 after Aegon's Conquest. Died in the year 296 after Aegon's Conquest on the bloody flux. Traitor to the Interests of the Crown. The Last of his House.

296 AC, King's Landing, Red Keep, the King's apartments

With the Master of Coin dead and no successor chosen yet, the daily tasks of the office should have fallen under Robert's purview. Of course the King had no interest in dealing with copper counting as he called it, but it was important. Joffrey needed Robert to take this seriously, especially with Lord Jon not here to keep all those greedy nobles in check. He probably overdid it, because with an annoyed hand gesture Robert said briskly, "Then you do it."

"I… what?" Joffrey asked flabbergasted, staring in shock at his father and then behind him at Ser Barristan and Jaime.

"You do it. You are the crown prince. Find some people who know that stuff and go over the books."

"Father…"

"I don't want to hear about it until its finished. Go."

So Joffrey went. Suddenly in charge of the treasury and overseeing the office of Master of Coin.

The first thing he did after returning to his quarters was to take several fortifying sips of the barely alcoholic Reacher mead that Loras had gifted to him. He was in the middle of his third glass when he heard the door behind him open, and his uncle was announced.

Tyrion sipped from his own bottle of wine and the resigned acceptance on his face was in no way encouraging. For a moment Joffrey was irritated about how quickly his uncle had apparently been informed of his new task, and then he recognized the wine bottle. It was a particularly expensive Harbor Gold with which Jaime liked to bribe his younger brother. The Kingsguard had probably sent a Lannister servant with a message the moment Robert's attention wandered.
So maybe his family life was complicated, but that didn't mean that he couldn't appreciate their good intentions.

Together Tyrion and Joffrey organized scribes and counters and ordered a full audit of the treasury and all the books of the Master of Coin, going back the last 5 years, further back than Baelish' four-year tenure. Tyrion had also sent out a couple of ravens, probably arranging for additional reinforcement from the army of Lannister accountants they were related to.

When Joffrey had the Keeper of the Keys called to his rooms and showed them the royal decree his father had sent as an afterthought, more than one showed visibly signs of nervousness. Joffrey just knew that it would be a trying couple of weeks. Tyrion's dry suggestion to double the number of guards only strengthened that believe.