Jasper drank another glass of wine, his third for the evening, and he shouldn't drink another drop less he actually gets drunk. Arryns don't get drunk. Unlike King Robert, whom had long surpassed that given how loud he was laughing and swaying in his seat. His behavior was shameful, grabbing serving girls in front of the queen and all of Winterfell. But the slight was not against House Arryn or the Vale so he held his tongue. If Lord Stark complains, I'll support him. Where does he put it all? Jasper wondered. Maybe his gut? And it was certainly bulging out. While His Grace was enjoying himself, he was tight and bothered with all the eyes following him. Everyone had to see him for the fraud he was. His skin paled from gripping the silverware too tightly. All the eyes and conversations he had to endure made him wish to bolt. When offered another glass he accepted, less he look out of place. The Northman were quite boisterous.

If only I could slip away.

He wanted to groan, but he knew better. Lords of the Eyrie didn't groan or bolt like cravens, they acted polite and formal with everyone. Jasper was seated across from Robb and next to Sansa. Cousin Sansa looked like a younger version of his aunt and her attention was focused only on Prince Joffrey, whom didn't even bother to look interested. He spoke sparingly and mainly ate his food in small, controlled bites. However, when Cousin Ayra flung a peach at Sansas dress that had him smiling as his cousin shrieked a high girlish scream. Why am I smiling? He wondered. That was improper and unbecoming of a lady. Is this what being around family feels like? It disquieted him that he broke his facade. Jasper snapped back into place before too many noticed.

Aunt Catelyn gave a pleading look, and Robb slid his chair back. "To bed for you." He said, picking up Cousin Arya, a smirk etched on her face.

Jasper winked.

That extra glass of wine was helping himself as the music blared and people danced some northern dances. Lady Jeyne Poole asked him to dance, giggling. A petty noble he could decline, but it wouldn't be chivalrous. He did as bid before begging his leave to return to his seat after a few dances. She was blushing like he actually cared. Well, at least I fooled her. "Are you well cousin?" Robb asked as he was returning to his seat. "You seemed troubled."

Jasper nodded. "I'm fine Lord Robb. Should I not be?"

Robb shrugged and grinned. "Snow is bad enough. Don't brood the night away. Wouldn't you agree Sansa?"

"Hmm?" Lady Sansa's cheeks flushed as bright as their auburn hair as her dreamy look crumbled. Prince Joffrey was entertaining a crowd of Lannister men with a brilliant smile. "Oh," she said. "I agree with my brother, Lord Arryn. You should try to enjoy the night. Oh, I know this must be tiny from what you are use too." Biting her lower lip. "Maybe you should ask a lady to dance?"

"Don't think that works." Robb said. "He danced with Poole."

She blinked. "Oh." She said, surprised. "I didn't see that."

And Jasper didn't find that hard to believe. They were right, though he needed to be more outgoing, like a true lord. He stood, hand extended. "Would you care to dance Lady Sansa of House Stark?" His voice laced with formality and courtesy. "I'm sure your betrothed won't mind."

"I would love that, my lord."

It was a good move to dance with her. Let us show Arryn and Stark remain close. They swayed and turned to some soft tune. Cousin Sansa was a fair dancer. She would do well in the kings court. He was adequate, but derived no joy or peace from dancing. He was just one mistake away from embarrassment and all the eyes bothered him. "You'll love the balls of the south and the tourneys." He told her. "They are grand and filled with all the pageantry and chivalry of the south."

She squealed happily. "That sounds truly wonderous. I can't wait to witness such valor!" He spun her. "Would you participate in a tourney?"

"I know not in truth." He said.

"Well, I think you should." She told him, smiling." Don't you have some lady you wish to impress or Crown your Queen of Love and Beauty? I hope my golden lion wins me a crown." In the distance, he saw Robb twirling with Princess Myrcella.

Jasper shook his head. "I do hope for a happy ending, though. The songs are always so happy…" His voice trailed as he imagined the happiness he wished to claim, but could never muster up the courage to seize. Life could be like a song, right? But Sansa was too enraptured with his words to notice.

"I love the songs too!"

"Then you must hold on to them." He said with longing. "Sometimes the memories of a song are all we have. Never forget, even when you are a beautiful, kind queen."

She studied him as they slowed. "Are you well cousin?" She asked. "I think my brother may have been on to some truth."

Jasper wanted to curse for showcasing such melancholy. "It's just the wine." He faked a smile. "I'm fine, and who wouldn't be dancing with such a lady as yourself. You'll knock the lords dead. Prince Joffrey is a lucky man."

Her cheeks flushed. "Thank you, my lord." Praise could normally get one out of trouble. Especially if it was true. They twirled some more, but it had made the statement to the gathered lords and ladies that Stark and Arryn remained united. The Starks are by the kings side. I must be by them. He kissed the back of her hand and retreated to the table. He managed a few steps before being ambushed by the blond princess whom snuck up on him like a faceless man.

"Ah, Lord Arryn." She said, giving a light curtsey. "I intend to collect on that dance you owe me." She wore a kind expression. "Unless I've arrived too late. I wouldn't wish you any discomfort." He needed air and space to be away from the eyes and talking, but it would be in poor taste to refuse. A princess deserved proper amount of respect and he had given his word as an Arryn. That's means something to me. Yet it irked him he was being entrapped to it.

"It's no bother." He said, offering his hand. "But I must confess, I think I'm not nearly as dashing as cousin Robb. I fear you'll be disappointed."

"Mayhaps, you'll be disappointed. I doubt I'm Lady Sansa's equal."

Jasper paused long and awkwardly, uncertain on how to reply before giving a default lordly nod. He then led her in a dance, hands on her waist, trying to hide the growing irritation at playing this gallant lord. Do they understand how taxing this is? He kept a fake smile on his face, trying to be this Lord Arryn everyone needed. Courteous. Chivalrous. Gallant. Perfect. She pulled away, annoyed. " You're tired. Don't lie. I can see the truth." Her green eyes sparkled, and she seemed to peel away the lordly shield he wore so well. The wine had weakened it, and the duration of the feast had gone on longer than he expected, making his attempts to master his annoyance challenging.

He winced. "You seem to have me at a disadvantage then." But he reached out for her hands. "Though it matters little. I mind not a little discomfort to keep my word."

"Does your word mean that much to you?"

"As High as Honor princess."

"Then will you give me your word that my brother will be safe with you."

Jasper nodded. He finally understood what this was all about and, for a moment, his irritation eased. "On my honor as an Arryn. I'd give my life for Prince Tommen. You have little to fear." He pulled away and smiled. "Now," His voice showed more life, knowing his night was almost done. "Lets get you a truly dashing lord to spend the evening with. My cousin Robb should serve, I think."

The princess blushed. "I'm sure Lord Robb is bored with me." Her voice chided playfully. " And don't dismiss your talents. You were fine, my lord. You didn't step on my toes."

"Ah, the princess speaks honestly fine, not great." Jasper said, amused.

Princess Myrcella protested.

"Your too kind princess." Jasper waved Robb over and gave him his last responsibility for the evening. I've spoken to everyone needed, and I can slip away. Maybe I could sneak in a midnight ride? Jasper maneuvered his way through the drunken crowd of knights and northman dancing and jesting. Flames of the braziers danced in the background. The doors loomed in front of him and, for the first time, Jasper felt the weights leave his chest and a blanket of peace wrap around him.

And then the tankard of ale spilled all over him ripping that feeling of comfort to shreds. He scarcely heard the server apologize.

Jasper glowered as all the accursed eyes turned to him and the cause was right infront of him. The stain of his aunts honor had done this. Any sympathy in his heart vanished. Something snapped in his chest at this humiliation. "Bastard." He spat with venom, and the bastard known as Jon Snow turned around. Eyes watery. "Are you crying bastard?" He mocked. " You should. You're nothing but a wretched stain of dishonor! A shame on your lord fathers honorable- "

The fist that struck was heavy as iron. Jasper stumbled back. His vision blurred, and he remembered little else save lunging forward. It took Ser Brynden, and several Stark and Arryn guardsmen to pull them off each other. Jon Snow sported an ugly black eye, while Jasper's nose was broken, and they had more bruises than could be counted.

"You wish to fight, bastard?" Jasper yelled. "I'll teach you honor, I'll teach it to you, damn it! I challenge you to a duel of honor! I shall have satisfaction!"

"And I'll answer it." Jon Snow said with defiance that had his blood boiling.

"Courtyard." Jasper shouted out. "On the morrow."

"Courtyard." The bastard agreed.

And with that Jasper shrugged off Ser Bryndens hand and stormed off to his quarters too furious for words. He slammed the door behind him and ordered no one to disturb him. Not that anyone could stop the Blackfish when he decided on a course of action. I don't need that stern look to know I erred.

"Look, I know I messed up." He said as he paced around the room before settling down on a chair. "I know I'm an idiot. What was I thinking? Challenging the bastard to a duel?" He scoffed. "Even in victory I lose." Lord Stark cared about that fucking bastard, it seemed, and this duel would just cause division when they needed a united front to handle the Lannister influence at court. Hot-headed youths did things like this. Not Lords of the Eyrie. Did father ever do something so reckless?

"I panicked all those eyes on me, looking for my response." He shrugged. "I just reacted." Fury ignited like an inferno, burning everything in its path as his hands twisted into fists. "I'm a dumb fool. I can't back out now, I have to fight." Still, Ser Brynden said nothing, giving a look of total disinterest. Not even the slightest appearance of disapproval. Somehow that hurt Jasper more.

"Well, say something, will you!"

"Your doing a good enough job of beating yourself up." He snorted. "Nephew, you are a lord. Clean up your own damn mess." He chuckled. "And this is a fine mess you've made."

Jasper sunk further into the chair.

"Bastard is good too. I've seen him fight." Ser Brynden stroked his beard. "He's quick and strong and is a natural with a sword."

Defeat? Jasper blinked. Such a thought had never really crossed his mind. Losing to the stain of his aunts honor had him hot and bothered. He shot up. "Well, I won't lose." He declared. "Help me. I can't lose to him."

"I don't think it can be done."

"I need to win." Otherwise he would be a mockery. A jape in the Kings Court and nothing was more important than his reputation as an Arryn. Self-doubt transformed into defiance and he glowered. "Who does that bastard think he is? Associating with his betters like some trueborn." He said, thinking of bastards as dark as sin plotting to take away his cousins birthright. That's all this Jon Snow was a threat in the dark. Some creature of dishonor that pretended to be good and decent. Just like Harry the Heir, a treacherous snake in the grass. Always plotting, biding his time to seize what didn't belong to him. The plain face of Jon Snow became the handsome blond bastard in his mind. A sneer formed at the memory. Harry's smirk standing over him was something he would never forget as he laughed. He's unworthy of the name Arryn.

"I'll teach him a lesson he'll never forget." Battered and broken on the courtyard yielding to a true lord of the realm.

As High as Honor

The blow struck him fiercely, sending him stumbling back into the chair. " What?" He snapped, eyes blazing. "I'M YOUR LORD! HOW-" Another blow to his head that would bruise by morning had him seeing stars.

"Quiet boy."

"Grand-Uncle?" He scowled in disbelief.

"I did not teach you to be some high little shit." Grabbing him by his collar. "Start acting like the lord I know you are."

Jasper reddened. "He's a bastard. A shame to your niece!"

"And he's going to kick your ass. Get over it."

Get over it? Jasper thought. "You mock me so freely?" His voice soured. "If I lose, then so be it. I'll lose with more honor than he'll ever know in his life."

"And that sneer, boy? Was that honorable?"

Jasper flinched. "I-" How could he defend that? That wasn't as High as Honor. His shoulders slouched, and he felt like a little boy being chided. Boulders were on his chest, and his throat tightened. "I'm trying…" His voice was filled with disappointment. "These expectations of me are overwhelming and I have no one to help me." A loud sigh. "I suppose that isn't an excuse…"

"Afraid not."

He lowered his head and felt shame.

If I lose, will people whisper that Harry should be Lord of the Eyrie?

"Your not alone nephew." Ser Brynden gripped his right shoulder. "I'm here."

Jasper smiled weakly. "I fear even the Blackfish can't help right my mistakes."

"Piss on that." He snorted. "Show some gull. There have been worse lords than you. Many better ones too. I've seen both. Good and terrible. Just do better. Be better. Win or lose on the morrow, show courage and that's all a lord can do."

Jasper steadied. "I promise. I'll try."

The next day, two of his squires fastened his suits of armor: the lanky Jon Waynwood, and Adrian Belmore, and handed him a dull tourney sword. Young Bran Stark was in the gallery with what seemed like was everyone from Winterfell and King Roberts party. It would have been cruel to make Bran squire for this. They had assembled a makeshift throne for King Robert, whom sat surrounded by three of his Kingsguard dressed in white plate. Prince Joffrey at his right side with a sneer on his face that nearly made Jasper glower at the prince while Lady Sansa, his betrothed, was by his side. She wore a simple northern dress as icy as winter, but they styled her hair like a woman from the south. Polite and attentive, her tully like eyes were devoted to Prince Joffrey. There were the Queen and her Lannisters brothers: Lord Tyrion and Ser Jamie. Of the royal family, only Princess Myrcella gave him a small smile that was genuine. Prince Tommen nervously gave him his shield. The flying falcon was painted on the wood. The symbol of House Arryn.

He ruffled his hair. "Thank you, my prince."

Prince Tommen smiled timidly.

The Stark family gazed at him with cold, stoic eyes. Robb, by Lord Starks side was distant. The cold face of Lord Stark seemed solemn and disappointed by everything. Ayra was staring at him with venomous daggers, and that stung more than he thought it would. Rickon seemed confused, and Bran was conflicted. Only Aunt Catelyn shot him a look of encouragement.

At least she understands what I'm doing.

,In front of him Jasper saw him dressed not even in the colors of House Stark for he had no right to wear such. The armor was unornate in simple northern fashion. Jasper's anger grew just at the sight of him. He fought to keep a sneer off his face, trying to keep to his Arryn ideals.

They both approached the center. "Are you ready, Lord Arryn?" the bastard asked him. A hint of anger on that plain face.

"Naturally," Jasper said, eyes narrowing. Any regret for this challenge vanished at how he walked with such cockiness. What did they see about him? Couldn't they see him for what he was. A spoiled, arrogant, ambitious bastard that didn't know his place. Just like Harry. Suddenly, his uncles words vanished from his mind. He wanted to win, and badly at that.

Ser Rodricks announced. "Both of you understand this is until honor has been settled."

They both nodded.

Jasper saluted to his grace, unlike the bastard whom just took a fighting stance.

Swords clashed, and Jasper quickly gave ground to the deliberate strikes. Powerful and quick Ser Brynden wasn't wrong. The bastard was good. Very good. Sweat dripped along his brow as the crowd gasped with every exchange. Jasper was breathing heavily while the bastard wasn't even winded, as Jon Snow methodically pushed him to the wall. Everything blurred save the figure infront of him. Jasper swung wild and crazed and pushed him back a step. He pivoted and maneuvered out of the way of the trap. More space to maneuver, not that it would do much good. Unlike Robb, he was just as quick. Quicker. Muscles cramped and his chest heaved up and down with every clash that hit like a horse. The fight was a storm of steel. Jon Snow's slash was a blur and caught him in the ribs. He stifled a yelp. Blood flowed from biting his tongue as his counter was parried to the side. Three more blows, and his sword flew, landing with a distinct thud. Jon Snow hammered at his shield until it shattered. Then he slammed him to the ground. Jasper's head was ringing like a bell. Dozens of Snows stood above him. "Yield?" All of them said his arm was raised as the world spun and darkened.

A younger boy with auburn hair swung his training sword and a taller blond boy parried it lazily and laughed. "Ah, a weak falcon just like your brother." Tears streamed down his cheeks as he fell to the ground with a savage kick. The tall boy smirked. "Will you die before him, I wonder?"

"That's unchivalrous Harry, I'm the heir of the Eyrie and you speak of my brother." The smaller boy said, crawling away from him. He was trying to hide his fear, but it was as plain as day. The small courtyard was abandoned only a few torches dimly lit. No one would intervene.

"I told you." His boot pressing against the boys hands. A loud cry of pain and the tears truly flooded down his cheeks. "You are a laughingstock. The weak, coddled son of Jon Arryn hiding constantly behind the skirts of women." The blond boy smirked. "That's why I'll be name heir. I don't look like the git of a trout." He paused and lifted his foot while the boy nursed his hand.

"I'll-I'll…" His voice trailed.

"You'll what? Cry to your mother? Shes not here. Complain to a father that never returns? I wonder why. I certainly wouldn't return with an heir like you."

Winterfell returned and the crowds shouting was louder than a drum. After that fight, he begged Ser Brynden to teach him how to fight. The next time they fought, he smashed him to the ground with satisfaction. He stifled a groan. I must have blacked out for a moment. Jon Snow was turned away from him as his aunt was shouting in the distance. A few feet away was his sword. For a moment he considered rolling for it and hitting him unaware. However, that wouldn't be as High as Honor. Ser Brynden would hardly approve of such a trick. It gnawed at him as he remarked. "I yield." He tried and failed to keep the bitterness out of his tone as he removed the straps of his helm. The crowd quieted as it saw him stir. "I yield Ser Rodrick."

The Master of Arms announced the victory to the cheers of the Stark guardsman.

Jon Snow twisted around and his grey eyes glared at him. Go on, mock me. Laugh you've won the day. The bastard did none of that and offered his hand. By the Seven, why would he do that. What game was he playing? Jaspers chest tightened and froze for a moment, studying the outreached hand like the dishonest action it had to be. He should accept it, but bitterness overwhelmed him and stood up on his own.

"Our quarrel is at an end. Good day Snow." Jasper said.

Jon Snow said nothing and gave a single nod.

The Starks hardly seemed concerned about him. They don't see you as family, you're stupid for thinking that.

"WHAT A FIGHT!" King Robert stood red faced, deep in his cups. "Your coming south with us, boy." The king declared, and Jasper stiffened before continuing his long walk to his squires. Tired. Bitter. He still glanced back. Jon Snow was a bastard from the north, but he went to his knees at the kings words." Arryn is good, but Gods, you remind me of myself! Tell me Kingslayer wasn't that fine swordsmanship!"

Ser Jamie replied, but Jasper couldn't hear it.

"I'm going to the wall your grace, with my Uncle Benjen." Jon Snow said.

"WHAT?" He snorted out the wine. "A black cloak? Nay, you are going to have the white. I won't have you freeze your cock off at the wall." The king twisted to Ser Jamie. "Barristan has no squire. He shall take the boy."

Words that infuriated the queen. Her icy face glowered. "My love," Her smile thin. "the boy is a bastard, and he so wishes to join his uncle at the wall."

"THE BOY IS COMING!"

And when king wishes something he gets it.

A slight flash of pain, as the stark maester slipped on one of his stitches. "Sorry my lord." He offered. Jasper gave a small nod of understanding. His mind was elsewhere anyway. Beyond the small amount of pain from his fall and the maesters stitches. None of his cousins visited him, and that hurt more than anything the bastard could do to him. Aunt Catelyn came and such was dutiful of her and he appreciated it, but he understood that once more he had chosen honor over happiness. If only he had never walked towards that door. Why did he always do this? As High as Honor came the bitter thought, and those words were as bitter as death. Jasper sighed and accepted the truth. Falcons soared alone, and that would be his faith. Coming to Winterfell was not a mistake, but trying to be Jasper with them was. To his cousins he would never be family, simply a stranger, and for too long he had been a lonely falcon. Maybe if he had come sooner, things would have been different? Now, he didn't even know how to be Jasper any longer. But when he flung dung in the stalls, he believed otherwise and it was a beautiful feeling, more beautiful than any song he had ever heard. Now, only the songs would remain to him, and he accepted that. Duty and honor were the only things an Arryn needed. Not Family. Not love. A few songs and dreams were enough for him.

I have my role to play. The Vale needs, Lord Arryn. Not Jasper.

"My lord, are you well?" the maester asked.

"Naturally, it was a minor wound." He smiled. "Thank you maester. Take care."

Authors Notes: Next up Ned broods in the Crypts and changes some plans before heading South with King Robert.

Guest ATP: Well, I have two rules. One Jasper is going to be a flawed imperfect character, and two canon is going to change. I've never understood people who follow the canon line so religiously. For example if you do a Black Prince story that changes things and you should see the changes ripple. Don't just go Winterfell to Kingslanding with just a new POV and change minor things. Something different should be done.

Enchanting Evening: I'm glad you enjoyed it. I hope you enjoyed this chapter too. Next one will be a bit. Ive had the first three chapters pretty much done. I just needed to tidy them up.

GuestLolhi: Honestly, I didn't really have one(I had a photo, but not an actor) I looked one up just for you that is somewhat similar Jake Austin Walker. Hope that helps.

GuestAnon:Thanks! Always enjoy the reviews. I like seeing them.