The Vale – 265 A.C. / 1860 A.D.
Her husband had received the message from Lord Owen Sunderland whilst she was helping to prepare her good-brother's funeral. A dark-winged raven bearing the news of a strange black ship arriving at Sisterton seemed too strange for him to deal with now. As the Silent Sisters prepared Lord Jasper for his journey with the Stranger, she worried about her husband's state of mind.
If her lord husband felt any sorrow, than he managed to hide it well from her. She had known Jon Arryn since she had fostered in the Eyrie when they were children, and she knew that he was not to be one to lie about his feelings. But she had deduced long ago that he was just as reserved as his friend up in the North. And while she understood the desire, Rowena also knew that it was unhealthy for their marriage to continue in such a state.
He had been through more than his fair share of grief in the last five years. His first wife died during during childbirth, the babe passing as well. Then his father succumbed to a winter fever, only two years past. Then the news arrived only a week ago that his brother Ser Ronnel died of an illness of the stomach, and only a few days after his son's birth.
And now in the midst of their grief, a message that could herald trouble at their very gates arrived to add to his worries.
Walking through the halls of the Eyrie, she found her husband hunched over on his seat, staring over the mountains through the opened Moon Door.
"Remember when we were children, and I would always beg you to show me the Moon Door?"
"Yes." He slowly turned his head to her, a soft smile forming on his face. "You said that you wished you could be a falcon so you can leap through those doors without fear."
"I recall more than a few times I almost did."
"And who do you think kept you from falling?"
Rowena smiled at the fond memory, her hand finding its way to his. She recalled how he would hold her hand whenever she looked down at rocks below the Moon Door, and how he would say to her, "It's alright Row. If you fall, I'll be there to catch you."
But they were only children then, cousins. Now they were husband and wife, and she feared she could not do the same for him.
"Are you alright Jon?" She asked. "You've been awfully quiet since you got the letter from Lord Sunderland."
"I'm alright, Row." He patted her hand gently. "It's only a mild pain in my eyes."
"A mild pain? Jon, have you seen a maester about this?"
"There's no need. It'll pass."
"Jon, if this is about Ronnel…"
"By the Seven, Row! It isn't about Ronnel!"
"Then what is it about, my love?" She pleaded, setting herself on her knees at his side. "You've been in this melancholy state for months now. If it was about your father or your brother, I might understand, but you always claim it's not. Please, Jon! Just… just help me understand."
He remained silent, staring fervently at her. She could see the slightest glint of tears at the edge of her husband's eyes. "I feel as if… as if I have failed you."
"Jon… how – "
"It has been two years since we've wed, and you are yet without child."
"Jon, I – "
"Please, let me finish." He interrupted. "I do not fault you for it, my dear. But I do know the pressure that has been put upon you since you've taken up the ladyship of the Eyrie."
Jon paused, taking a moment to gaze upon her expression. She wished she could say that she was the soul of reassurance, but his words were worrisome to her ears. He has never talked about such things before. Why now?
"I was considering, in the event that we should not have any children, making my brother's son my heir."
Oh.
He continued, "I was about to draft a letter to Lady Maryssa, but I had not taken your feelings on the matter into account. I was about to tell you, but then I feared how you would take the news. I'm sorry, Row."
Jon's words lit a fire of warmth in her heart. She had feared the worst ever since he started growing distant in the wake of Ronnel's death. The unspoken whispers in the back of her mind that told her that he was disappointed by their lack of children, that he thought her barren, that he no longer had any love for her were soon snuffed out, their burning embers no longer aflame.
"Jon…" She breathed out, tears in her eyes. "My silly Jon. How could I ever hold this against you? You know me just as I know you. And while, I admit that I am ever so slightly offended that you would take such a course of action without my knowing, I am grateful that you trust me – nay, love me enough to let your intentions on such matter be known."
"Rowena…" He started, standing up from his chair, his hands squeezing hers. "I… I…"
"Hush now, my love." She smiled, leaning in to kiss her husband.
Rowena had shared many kisses with Jon since they had wed, but this moment felt near otherworldly. The breeze from the opened Moon Doors rushed in chilling her bones but emphasizing his warmth. The twilight of the setting sun casting the shadow of their keep over the mountain range, as if to keep their love hidden and tucked away from those who would seek to tear them apart. His lips were rough and chapped from the cool mountain air, but she did not care.
She could have sworn that she had dreamt of such kisses in her youth when she was not yet flowered and he on the cusp of manhood, when she stared in heartbreak at Jon's first wedding when he said his vows to Jeyne Royce, when she received the news that she would be finally be betrothed to him.
Breaking their kiss, she looked up at him through her lashed with a humble smile. "My love, since you care for my thoughts on the matter, I shall tell you what you will do."
She ran a hand over his cheek before continuing, "You will write to Lady Belmore in the morning confirming as such that until I give you a son, her little Elbert will be the heir to the Eyrie."
"Row, a-are you sure?" Jon asked, worriedly.
"I am sure, my lord husband." She answered coyly. "For tonight, you and I will be working to ensure that Ronnel's son will not have such a burden on his shoulders."
The look he gave her was equal parts loving, as it was voracious.
A surge of confidence rushing through them both, their lips collided once more as their love for each other coerced their bodies into pressing into the other. She might have even thought that their passions would happen right there, if a gust of wind hadn't suddenly slammed the Moon Door shut.
Breaking apart at the sudden noise, the looked to each other before sharing a small laugh. She remembered their first night abed, and how they were both so nervous that they had almost laughed their way through the bedding.
With a smile on his face and love in his eyes, Jon held out his hand to her. Rowena, with confidence and love in return, settled her hand in his. With small chuckles of mirth, they both strolled through the halls and up to their room.
I love him as he loves me.
How can a child not be born from such love?
The mountain gales would keep their love private that night.
The days leading up to the funeral were filled with strange stories pouring in from the north. The message from Lord Sunderland had only arrived to them a week ago, and already rumors about more black ships appearing throughout the Bite were spreading like the plague. In particular, a story about Jon's friend Lord Rickard Stark, stood out the most. Strange tales started to appear of black ships spitting fire and smoke upon raiders, setting Lord Stark's ships down to the depths of the sea.
As it goes, after Jon sent a raven to Lord Sunderland telling him how he should proceed, a letter appeared from Lord Stark explaining that he took it upon himself to investigate the claims. Rowena was unsure about the Northern lord, but from what Jon had told him, he was an honorable man and had once saved his life during the last Blackfyre Rebellion. But after nearly another week, there was still no response.
She could tell that Jon was concerned, and she would not be surprised if he had ordered an expedition to set sail in order to find out his fate. But a raven from White Harbor assuaged her husband's fears. Having read the message herself, she was slightly confused as to the nature of Lord Stark's words.
My friend, Foreign ships appeared in the Bite, new island found east of Longsister. Come at once. Signed, Lord Rickard Stark
Rowena could only ponder the meaning of the words. A new island? East of Longsister?
There was no land east of the Three Sisters for miles, not until the shores of the Neck. She was worried about what Lord Stark had found, both for herself and for Jon.
'Come at once' was abundantly clear to her, and Jon was nearly ready to do so for his old friend. But to do such would mean him missing the funeral of her brother, and he knew that their family would take offense at his absence from such an important event.
She wished she could say that it took little convincing on her part to have Jon delay his departure, but in truth he was so dead set on the endeavor that she had almost descended to having him chained up.
"By the Seven, Row! I know the offense that this will cause, but something like this is unprecedented!"
"As is the funeral of our cousin, Jon!"
"My love, surely your presence alone will be enough to represent our family at the funeral."
"You are the Lord Paramount of the Vale! You are the head of the house! I'm only – "
"You are the Lady Paramount of the Vale. You are as much the head of the house as I, and I trust you to be there for our family in this most desperate time of need while I fulfill my duties as Lord of the Vale."
Rowena's heart all but burst in frustration at Jon's words. The fact that he trusted her to represent the Eyrie swelled something wonderful in her chest, but it did little to take away the feeling that she would only do as much so that her husband could rescue his Northern friend.
In the end, he agreed to compromise. He would leave on the day of the funeral, but not until the ceremony was over.
The morning of the funeral brought with it a whole slew of nerves that she had not realized were pent up inside of her. When she emptied the contents of her stomach into a chamber pot, much to her husband's concern, he almost cancelled his journey to White Harbor altogether.
They shared a laugh when the maester confirmed that it was only an upset stomach.
"My silly Jon, if I'd known that this was all it took to keep you here, I would have feigned an affliction weeks ago."
Despite their smiles, Rowena didn't miss the worried glint in Jon's eyes.
The funeral was, as expected, a somber affair. As the Silent Sisters readied Ronnel's body for his journey to the heavens, she could not help but feel for her goodsister. Whilst the septon was giving his sermon, she spotted Lady Maryssa, dressed in black and doing her best to hold her tears back as she held her son in her arms.
She desperately wanted to go over to her and hold her in an embrace. It baffled her as to why Lady Maryssa seemed stalwart in restraining her emotions. A funeral should be the one place where such tears could flow unrestrained.
When she asked her goodsister as such, her answer shook Rowena to her core.
"I fear that my tears will never cease flowing."
Rowena's heart broke once more for her. She could not imagine how it must feel to lose someone who held your heart to such a degree. Images of Jon's body, cold and lifeless, filled her head. She endeavored not to think of such things, especially since he planned to investigate the strange occurrences up in the Bite.
That should be Lord Sunderland's job, not my sweet Jon's, she thought bitterly. After all, it was the Sisterman who shirked in his duties, not my husband.
She kissed Jon for a moment longer than what was appropriate, before he saddled his horse and rode through the Gates of the Moon.
"You will be the Lady of the Eyrie now, Row. I trust you. I love you."
"And I love you, my silly Jon." She smiled, wiping the tears from her eyes. Perhaps now she had something of an understanding of Lady Maryssa's words. "Take care."
As she watched her husband leave, she tried not to think of the death that had plagued her family in the recent years. She knew that Jon would return to her, safe and sound.
High above in the clouds, she could hear the faint cry of a falcon.
Having fostered in the Eyrie, Rowena understood the need of ladies' gossip. The rumor mill in Gulltown, while plentiful, left her taking for granted the influx of whispered words of outlandish tales, and the desire to divine fact from fiction.
As such, in the months following her husband's departure north, she could not help but take in the influx of rumors that spilled from merchants, journeying lords, and hedge knights stopping by the Eyrie. Some of the stories seemed outright lies. Black ships powered by the breath of dragons, sellswords from Asshai who wielded fire-spears that utilized the power of their Red God, and strangers in blue coats who wrote the Common Tongue in a different language all seemed ridiculous to her ears.
And yet with each passing day and each new traveler, the same rumors were heard. All varying in one way or another, yet all seemed to hold a constant theme; black ships and blue men.
It was nearing a month since her husband had ventured north at the behest of Lord Rickard. In the intervening time, he had written only two letters to her. Both of which seemed to lack in any specific detail the foreigners up in the Bite.
She was worried. Rowena knew that her husband trusted her in most things, if not all. Her position as the ruling Arryn in the Vale, left no doubts in her mind. Yet, she could not help but wonder what was keeping Jon away. Was the nature of these foreigners so strange that it required both Stark and Arryn to meet out their purpose?
Or perhaps, they are waiting on news from King's Landing?
Rowena set aside her worries as she walked down from her chambers in the Moon Tower and to the maester's office. She had contended with more upset stomachs in the past two weeks, hurling into a chamber pot each morn, and each time she contributed it to a mild sickness of the belly. But recalling how Ronnel died from an affliction of the stomach, she decided to go to the maester. She did not feel like she was ill, but to occur every morn was something of an oddity.
After taking some tests, followed by a rough assessment, the maester paused in contemplation before finally asking a question that she did not expect.
"My lady, when did you last bleed?"
Her eyes must have been as wide as saucers, they definitely felt as such. "A little over a month and a half ago."
"A month and a half you say?" A smile grew on his face. "Well, I can confidently say that you are not ill, my lady."
"If I'm not ill, then – "
"Then, I hope you would allow me to be the first to congratulate you."
Rowena's heart fluttered at the implication of the maester's words. "Y- You mean, I'm…"
"You are with child, my lady."
With those words, the world seemed to melt away. All the fear and anxiety of the past month was replaced with joy and mirth. She wanted to laugh and scream in delight. She wanted the world to know. She wanted her Jon to know.
The day seemed to pass by in a haze, as she sat on the Weirwood Throne and governed the affairs of the Eyrie. For the first time in years, she felt as if her life was finally coming together. The hardships of the past years now seemed to be worth the pain now that there was new life growing inside of her.
The raven she received from White Harbor the following only added to her joy.
My dearest Row, Compromise reached with foreigners, Lord Stark to host them at White Harbor, will return to you in fortnight. Signed, Your silly Jon
Soon she would be in the arms of her husband once more. She could just picture his face as she told him the news of their child.
He would find her standing in the Crescent Chamber, and his face would morph into one of weariness to pure bliss. He would hug her in that special way, tucking her under his chin. His bannerman would laugh and jest at how the stern and proper Lord of the Vale would become a lovesick bird at the sight of his wife. She would pretend to take offense, and he would glare at them, missing the playful tone in her voice.
Then she would place his hands on her womb and tell him of their child to be. And he would laugh heartily, in that way he only does with her. They would kiss and he would guide her to their chambers in the Moon Tower. And all would be perfect.
"My lady!" One of the household guard ran up to her. "A message from the Knight of the Gate. He says that he spotted banners coming up the high road, and a Targaryen banner at the van."
"Targaryen? Are you sure?"
"Yes, my lady."
Targaryen banners this far north can only mean one thing: the king!
"Send for Ser Hyram. Tell him that there are royal banners on their way."
"Yes, m'lady."
As the guard walked away, a myriad of thoughts encompassed her mind. What business could be so important that a royal party would deem it necessary to venture here?
She wondered blithely if it involved the compromise Jon had mentioned in his message. But then, why would the king venture to the Eyrie at all if the business with the foreigners was up in White Harbor?
There's no use dwelling as such. Soon they'll be at the Gates of the Moon, and then here.
Putting on her finest dress, she smoothed out her hair, and had her maids style it in a uniquely Valeman's fashion. She would be representing House Arryn after all, and she would take pride in her heritage.
As the last glimpses of sunlight seeped through the clouds, she could see from her window a small party being led by two banners, one black with a red figure – a dragon, she assumed – and the other a red banner whose sigil was too small to make out.
With a calming breath, Rowena made her way to the Crescent Chamber. The fires in its four hearths were being stoked to ward off the last breaths of winter. She could see the household gathered in uniform order, her ladies-in-waiting, the attending lords, the household guard with their sky-blue cloaks. Banners were lowered with the sigil of House Arryn, ready and waiting to receive the royal party.
The wooden doors of the Falcon's Gate opened to reveal the host from King's Landing. Flying from their banners, the infamous three-headed dragon of House Targaryen drew in a feeling of magnanimous awe. Yet the other banner, the one directly behind the leader of the procession, was unexpected. Held by a page clad in a deep red cloak, the crimson banner flew resplendent as it waved to all in the Vale the sigil of a gold lion.
This was not the king, but Rowena knew exactly who this was.
"My lord." She bowed, addressing the leader of the procession. "Welcome to the Eyrie. The hospitality of House Arryn is yours."
"You have my thanks, Lady Arryn." The leader of the group replied in greeting. His voice was not unlike how she imagined, based on the stories about him. His hair was as gold as his sigil, and his eyes as deadly too.
"It is nothing short of an honor to host the Hand of the King." She smiled cordially. She turned to her attendants and commanded them to see to the needs of their new guests. The small group consisted of Merryweather, Darklyn, and Lefford banners. To her right she could see a Kingsguard knight under the Targaryen banner.
"May I ask what brings the Hand of the King all the way to our mountains?"
"Business, my lady." The crimson clad leader nodded. "The king received a letter from Lord Arryn, speaking of a strange state of affairs occurring up near the Sisters. His Grace sent me to investigate."
"Of course. I am assuming you desire to wait here for my husband's return."
"Indeed. We have much to discuss with your husband."
"Indeed, we do." Her fingers hovering slightly over her womb. "Please, enjoy the hospitality of the Eyrie, my lord. Ser Hyram will show you to your rooms."
She smiled as she gestured through the open doors of the keep.
Giving only a single nod, she watched with fascination as Tywin Lannister was led through the halls of her home.
"Those who are really in earnest must be willing to be anything or nothing in the world's estimation."
I wanted to give something of a personality to Jon Arryn that was something other than "father figure to Ned and Robert". I also wanted to lend some life to Rowena Arryn, given that all we have of her is that she was married to Jon and was a cousin.
Next up, the Westerlands...