291 AC
They rode as a party of thirteen. Lord Yohn was in the lead, riding a massive chestnut destrier, the wind whipping its mane into the air like flickering flames. Jasper followed with the standard, the banner of House Royce lashing against the wind much like the horses' manes. Next to him was the hedge knight Ser Alton of the Leaves, a recent acquisition to the Royce household, with Ser Garret Roote and his nephew and squire, Terrance Roote, following behind. Brining up the rear were eight Royce men-at-arms, identical in their scaled armour, livery emblazoned with the black runes of Runestone over a field of bronze, and the castle-forged steel swords strapped to their side.
The blazing summer sun was high in the sky and the chirping of the birds carried clearly through the hazy air. With the Mountains of the Moon stretching out for miles behind them, and scenic glens, vales and narrow running streams shadowing the group either side, the view was picturesque. Just two hours out from the Gates of the Moon, where Lord Yohn had been meeting his cousin Lord Nestor Royce about the rule of the Vale with Lord Arryn in King's Landing, there was no castle or civilisation to be seen for miles around. Wild and wilful and beautiful; there was nowhere in the world, Jasper thought, quite like the Vale of Arryn.
"Not like Lord Harroway's Town, eh, Roote?" he shouted back to Terrance with a grin. While not as close to Terrance as he was to Robar or Osric or Hector, Jasper had come to call the Riverman friend in the year the other boy had been in Runestone, especially as both Osric and Hector were now knighted and were rarely in Runestone.
"Not quite," laughed Terrance. "A lot less people, and a lot more rocks, sheep and barbarians. Oh, and less rivers, of course. We have a great many rivers."
"Ah, that's why they call it the Riverlands!" Jasper said slowly and loudly. "I hadn't bloody realised."
"Quiet back there," Lord Yohn called over his shoulder as Terrance laughed.
"Sorry, Lord Yohn," Jasper said with a smile and a roll of his eyes, Terrance echoing him.
"I know you just rolled your eyes, Baratheon," Lord Yohn admonished without looking back.
"How in the Seven Hells could you know that?" Jasper asked.
"Because I know you," Lord Yohn told him. "You may have just turned four-and-ten, Jasper, but you are still my squire, and you will do as your told. Now shut up."
Jasper did as he was told, trying to ignore Terrance's muffled snickers and Ser Alton and Ser Garret's amused glances.
As he sent a glare Terrance's way, he felt his horse jerk beneath him. He heard a yell of pain from behind him but before he could look over his shoulder, his horse, a usually placid palfrey, suddenly reared up, neighing desperately, causing him to fall backwards and drop the standard he was carrying on the ground. As he fell to the ground in a painful heap, he glimpsed several arrows sticking out of his horse's side before it stumbled and collapsed to the ground, still whining manically. Jasper staggered to his feet, ignoring the stinging pain in his hip. Clumsily, he grasped at the sword at his waist several times before he managed to fumble it out of his scabbard; he was still in a state of shock.
Up ahead Lord Yohn already had his greatsword out and was wheeling his warhorse about. Jasper could feel Ser Alton at his shoulder. Ser Garret was yelling something, but Jasper couldn't make out the words. Terrance stared about himself, terrified. One guard was already down, three arrows spouting from his chest. Many of the other guards, like Jasper, had been felled and were now picking themselves up off the floor. The screams of frightened horses, the panicked shrieks of men and the infrequent whistles of arrows filled the air.
And then their attackers appeared from out of the bushes and rocks, large men clad in course linens and heavy furs. Their faces hidden by broken and dented halfhelms, the near two dozen clansmen rushed at them with wild howls. In their hands they carried an assortment of coarse weapons, from heavy mauls and jagged battle-axes, to sharpened hoes and long lances.
Lord Yohn wasted little time before charging them head on, shouting "Runestone! Runestone!" as he did so. Jasper watched as the Lord of Runestone took the head off the first man in his path, while his great destrier rode over a second clansman, crushing the man's bones with huge hooves. Ser Alton, unhorsed, had already rushed at the attackers and was now trading blows with a heavily muscled man swinging two spiked iron maces, while Ser Garret and two guards joined Lord Yohn in his horse charge.
Once Jasper would've balked at clashing with rough and fearsome men such as these, for even the Ironborn did not put the fear in people as much as the clansmen of the Vale did, but as the wild warriors bared down on him he felt his heart beat calm, felt the blood rush to his head and everything seemed to slow, for the battle joy he had experienced at Pyke had returned. And this time he expected it and embraced it, the madness and the happiness that consumed his every being. Not only did the joy of war run through him, but he was more skilled, he knew, than he had been at Pyke, and stronger too. Multiple victories at squires' tourneys and his now recurrent victories over Ser Samwell and Lord Yohn attested to those facts.
The first two men who reached him were young, with whiskers upon their cheeks instead of beards. The first man rushed in too fast and Jasper spun away from him, then brought his blade around to slice the man's ankle. As the man fell, spitting and cursing, Jasper blocked the second man's hesitant swing. He looked at the man dead in the eye and saw the fear there, and Jasper knew he was dead. The man swung again but Jasper batted it away with ease and stuck his blade fast in the man's belly. The man's eyes bulged out and Jasper finished him with a thrust to the throat. With that man dead, Jasper turned back to the first man who was struggling to get up and put him on the ground again with two slashes that carved up his torso.
Jasper met the next clansman that came at him with an overhand swing. The man retaliated in kind and their blades met in a mighty clash, the sound of metal on metal ringing through the air for seconds afterwards. The older man's greater strength told, as he threw Jasper off his blade. Jasper took a step back and ducked under the man's next swing and then it was he on the offensive. With four methodical strokes Jasper had the man careening backwards as blood spewed about him. Jasper was saved from dealing the killing blow by a passing guard on horseback who slashed at the man as he passed, his sword taking the clansman at the back of the neck.
Before the body had even reached the floor, Jasper was already advancing on his next opponent, a big, bearded monstrosity who was larger than he was smart and ran onto Jasper's sword's sharp point, the tip piercing the man's stomach savagely before the Baratheon prince twisted and pulled the blade out. Jasper laughed with joy as the man collapsed screaming, his legs kicking and arms spasming with agony.
The next opponent who stepped in front of him carried a large mace and bore an ugly, puckered scar that ran from jaw to hairline. Jasper knelt to duck under the clansman's first, and only, wayward swing, then brought his sword forth and stabbed up into the man's groin. Jasper left scar-face screeching and turned wildly, spying a clansman several feet away, standing over the broken body of Terrance Roote. Jasper gave the man no time to think before he stepped forward and drove his sword through the clansman's skull. Another man charged him, but he lasted no longer than the others before he was knelt at Jasper's feet, blood dripping from a wound on his head, and shouting in some guttural tongue Jasper did not recognize. If it was mercy the man was calling for, he received none.
Jasper looked around for more foes but the clansmen near him shied away from him, several turning and scurrying back to the shadows from whence they came.
"Cravens!" Jasper shouted after them, mirth and scorn dripping from his tone. The bloodlust continued to pulse through him. "Cowards! Sons of whores!"
Jasper glanced around once more. A dozen or more bodies littered the ground around him, as several riderless horses rode around them. The remaining clansmen seemed to be in retreat, apart from one or two who were still locked in fierce duels with guards. Two guards stood staring at Jasper in awe, but he ignored them as he noticed Lord Yohn and a huge man, wearing scaled leather armour that seemed to be in serviceable condition, were hammering blows down on each other not far away.
"Go and help your comrades," he snapped at the two guards before running towards his lord.
As he approached, Lord Yohn made to move backwards and stepped on the spilt guts of a corpse. Before Jasper's eyes the Lord of Runestone slipped and, unbalanced, fell heavily to his knees. The huge clansman roared in victory and slashed his large blade forwards but then Jasper was there, and he caught the sword with his own blade just before it struck Lord Yohn between the eyes. The man turned his large, angry eyes on him and growled.
And then the man shoved Jasper back with all his strength and rushed at him. The man swung his large sword again and again, far too fast, Jasper thought, for a man of that size, and Jasper was forced to parry desperately. He blocked another swing, then another, retreating under the hard swings that could've felled an aurochs. The man made to make one last powerful swing aimed for Jasper's neck, likely trying to take off his head, but Jasper had managed to gauge the man's speed by then and he danced aside and gave a great back-slice that cut through the top of the huge man's spine. Jasper pulled it up, slashing open the back of his skull, before he twisted it and ripped the sword free. The clansman used his last vestiges of strengths to struggle to his feet before he keeled over and collapsed, a final bubble of air escaping from his mouth as he breathed out his last breath.
Jasper, panting hard, blinked several times, looking about him. The last of the clansman were slinking back into the bushes and the survivors of the attack were coming together dazedly. One guard was holding the bleeding stump where his leg used to be, screaming. Jasper spied the dead bodies of a further three guards, as well as Terrance Roote's crippled corpse. Terrance's uncle Ser Garret was slumped over his horse, unmoving.
"Jasper."
Jasper turned back to Lord Yohn and replied, "Aye, my lord?"
"You saved my life. I thank you for it."
Jasper shrugged. "I only did my duty."
"It was more than that, but let's not quibble over details," Lord Yohn said, heavily. He looked at the corpse of the huge man. "Milk Snakes, I think. See the tattoo of an adder over the eyelids?"
Jasper glanced over and nodded.
"Nasty work, my lord," Ser Alton of the Leaves called as he approached, wiping his face of the blood and sweat with a white bandana.
"Indeed, Ser Alton," Lord Yohn grimaced. "Ser Garret?"
"I'm afraid not, my lord. His nephew got it, too, and three men-at-arms- Pate, Will and Lem." Ser Alton spat on the ground. "And Woth, if he even survives, will never fight again, of that we can be sure."
"Hmmm, very well."
"Shall we see to the dead then, my lord?" Ser Alton asked.
"Just a minute." Lord Yohn help up a hand. "I have something to do first. Jasper, get on your bloody knees."
Jasper opened and closed his mouth, his stomach lurching. He supposed it wasn't too surprising, after all that, but he still scarcely believed what was about to happen. Unsteadily, he lowered himself to his knees.
Lord Yohn placed his huge great sword, still wet and bloody from battle, on Jasper's right shoulder and began to speak.
"In the name of the Warrior I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother I charge you to defend the young and innocent. In the name of the Maid I charge you to protect all women. In the name of the Crone I charge you to be honourable. In the name of the Smith I charge you to obey the Laws of Gods and Men. In the name of the Stranger I charge you to be godly. Now rise Ser Jasper, of House Baratheon."
o-O-o
Jasper dressed simply, but expensively, in a black doublet of exquisite silk over a woollen white tunic fastened with Myrish lace. Comfortable breeches and long black boots of fine leather completed the look. He disliked most of the more frivolous aspects of the outfit, but Lord Yohn had told him when he left Runestone that he should look his finest when he entered King's Landing and faced the court for the first time since he was eight.
Though he knew it was hardly appropriate attire he also slipped the crude medallion he had gotten from the dying Riverman at Pyke two years previously over his head and tucked it under his doublet. He then strapped the sturdy steel sword Lord Yohn had gifted him when he was knighted to his side, not caring if some at court disapproved of wearing a weapon in the king's presence. He hardly cared about some lickspittles' opinions.
As the ship he was on, a royal drommond called the Hammer's Fist, tilted around him and creaked noisily, he examined the few chests and bags that contained all his worldly possessions. All he really owned were several outfits of clothing, some training equipment and a few odd personal items. These included a wood carving of a horse with a knight on its back that poor Ser Desmond Coldwater had crafted for him when he was nine, and a small cloth with the black stag of House Baratheon stitched on, which Ysilla had made for him when he'd first arrived in Runestone. Other than those, he had little. Now that he was a knight, he'd have to ask Robert for some gold to pay for armour and horses, though thankfully Lord Yohn's gift meant there was no need for a weaponsmith.
"We be ready to dock now, milord," the voice of a crewman sounded from outside the captain's quarters, which had been turned over for Jasper's use during the short journey.
Jasper flattened his hair and smoothed down his clothes once more before he left the room, swaying with the ship slightly as he did so.
Up on deck, the crew were rushing about, working on the final preparations to dock. Before him, lay the sprawling city of King's Landing, looking much the same as it had when he was eight. Hundreds of low-ceilinged dwellings stood next to taller apartment blocks, while the greater buildings such as the Great Sept of Baelor and the Dragon Pit stood taller than them all, though none could rival the Red Keep's dominance over the skyline. It's red-washed towers and thick walls gleamed in the sunlight. Moving his eyes to the city proper, Jasper watched the ever-moving mass of people drift through the narrow streets like crawling ants. He wrinkled his nose as a familiar smell assaulted his nostrils.
Some things never change.
Jasper waited by the fore of the ship as the Hammer's Fist glided nearer to the teeming harbour. Around them were docked the large, triple-decked war galleys of the royal fleet, as well as a host of other vessels from across the known world. Jasper spied sleek, graceful Braavosi trading ships, purple sails waving proudly, and magnificent Swan ships of the Summer Isles. Galleys and cogs and longships and whalers, he glimpsed them all floating in King's Landing's harbour.
They were allowed to dock fairly quickly, likely due to the fact that the king's brother was on board. When the large ship was moored and anchored, the crew let down the gangplank and Jasper was the first off the ship, enjoying the feeling of solid ground under his feet once more.
He found Stannis awaiting him at the docks, though he was not alone. Next to him stood the Lord of the Eyrie, Jon Arryn. The lord paramount of the Vale stood a head shorter than Stannis, but the old man's shoulders were just as broad as the Lord of Dragonstone's. His now wrinkled face showed the signs of once being comely with an aquiline nose, clear blue eyes and a sharp jawline. The two men were dressed simply, Stannis in black with the occasional shock of gold, and Lord Arryn in the blue and white colours of his house.
Beside them, dressed in the white cloak and silver plate of the Kingsguard, was a young man who Jasper did not recognize. The knight was tall with light-brown hair and a handsome face, and he bore the white cloak of the Kingsguard with pride. At the three men's backs waited a squadron of Baratheon men-at-arms.
"Ser Jasper," Lord Arryn greeted with a smile, showing his missing teeth. "Welcome to King's Landing."
"I thank you for the welcome, Lord Arryn," Jasper said, bowing his head slightly. "It is good to see you once more, my lord."
It was odd, Jasper thought as he greeted the Arryn lord, that he had only meet the man once before, despite having spent the last six years in the lord's domains.
"You too, my boy," Lord Arryn responded graciously enough. "May I be the first to offer my congratulations on your knighthood?"
"You are too kind," Jasper murmured.
"Nonsense, I'm sure it was rightfully earned."
"I should hope so." Stannis spoke for the first time. "A knighthood ill-earned in no true knighthood at all."
"You've not changed at all, big brother!" Jasper laughed, ignoring Stannis's offered hand and instead stepping forward to wrap his elder brother in a hug.
"Jasper," Stannis grunted in his ear. "You're taller."
Still laughing, Jasper released his brother and stepped back.
"And a pleasure to see you again, too, Stannis," Jasper winked.
"Ser Jasper," Lord Arryn began, glancing amusedly at Stannis, "may I present the new Kingsguard knight, and leader of our escort to the Red Keep, Ser Arys Oakheart?"
"Ser Jasper." Ser Arys inclined his head.
"A pleasure, Ser Arys," Jasper replied. "I'm sure my brother was wise in his choice of protectors."
"I wear the white cloak with honour," Ser Arys said. "And I shall protect the royal family to the last breath."
"Right," Lord Arryn weezed, "shall we retire to the Red Keep?"
o-O-o
Jasper was glad he was not first presented to the whole court in the great hall. Instead, Lord Arryn had arranged for a more subdued presentation in one of the adjoining rooms.
There Robert awaited him with a host of noble lords and ladies.
His eldest brother greeted him much like he had done at Seagard two years previously, with a laugh and a powerful hug. Jasper gripped him back with a similar strength, smiling.
"Ha, I knew you'd be a knight sooner rather than later, little brother! We must drink to your spurs tonight, eh? Come," Robert barked, finally freeing Jasper from his clasp, "meet your niece and nephew."
It was then that Jasper noticed the queen stepping forward, a blonde boy clinging to her skirts. Cersei Lannister was just as beautiful as he remembered, perhaps more so. Her smooth, cold skin was soft to his lips when he bent down to kiss her hand, glancing up at her stunning, perfectly framed face, which had far more effect on him now than it had done when he was eight. As he straightened up, he tried not to gape too obviously at her slender figure and full breasts or lose himself in those flashing emerald eyes.
"Good-brother," the queen purred. "Why, how big you've gotten. I still remember the nervous little boy with wild black hair who greeted me so courteously six years ago. You are a man now, it appears."
"A man, yes, perhaps," Jasper replied uneasily. "Though in truth I still feel half a boy, my queen."
"A natural feeling, I am sure," Queen Cersei smiled.
"May I say, Your Grace, your beauty is even more astonishing to me now than when I was a boy," Jasper said, with as much charm as he could muster.
"It is good to see your years in the Vale has not robbed you of your courtesy," the queen said with sickly sweetness, a wicked smile curling her lips. Queen Cersei turned to the gathered highborn. "Prince of the Iron Throne, Ser Jasper Baratheon, back where he belongs."
The nobility clapped and tittered appropriately, but Robert waved them to silence irritably.
"Yes, yes," he snapped, before turning his gaze to the blonde boy. "Go on, boy, greet your uncle." He turned to Jasper. "Jasper, this is Joffrey. My heir."
Jasper knelt to Joffrey's height, glancing at the boy's Lannister golden hair and green eyes. It was a struggle to see any of Robert in him. He frowned when the boy shrank away from him but forged on.
"Hello, Joffrey," Jasper smiled. "I'm Jasper, you're uncle. It's great to finally meet you."
The boy regarded him sourly and Jasper glanced around uncertainly.
"Gods, boy!" Robert bellowed. "He's your uncle, not a damn shadowcat. Stop with this cowardice."
"I don't want to!" Joffrey yelled petulantly. The boy shot a hate-filled glare at Jasper and shied away even further.
"He's just nervous, my love," the queen told Robert, who had grown red with anger.
"He's a spoiled little craven, is what he is," the king grumbled.
"Honestly, Robert, it's fine," Jasper interjected. "Perhaps I can spend some time with the boy later, in more… private circumstances."
"An excellent idea, good-brother," Queen Cersei said, placing a soothing hand on her son's shoulder. "In the meanwhile, meet your niece, Myrcella," she said, beckoning to someone behind her.
A maid stepped forward, carrying a toddler in her arms. The girl could only have been a year old or so, with a shock of golden curls atop her head. She had big, emerald eyes, so similar to that of her mother's.
"She has inherited your beauty, Your Grace," Jasper told the queen. "May I hold her?"
At the queen's nod, the baby was handed over. The girl felt light in his arms, as he rocked her softly. She cooed up at him and he couldn't but smile down at her.
"She's a pretty one, eh?" Robert grinned.
"Aye, brother," Jasper smiled, "You'll have trouble fighting off the suitors when she is a maiden flowered. Though I assure you I will be there to help, sword in hand," he said, to the laughs of the attending lords and ladies.
"And I'll hold you to that!" Robert crowed, taking Myrcella from him and holding her up proudly.
"Brother." Stannis interrupted the merriment, a woman Jasper did not recognize on his arm. "Allow me to present my wife, the lady Selyse, formerly of House Florent."
The woman was tall and thin, with pale, piercing eyes. She held herself regally but was not an attractive woman. There was a thin layer of hair on her upper lip and her large ears stuck out from her head at an ugly angle. Her thin lips were constantly drawn into a bitter expression, while her pointy nose appeared to be ill-fitting on her face.
"My lady," Jasper bowed. "Words cannot express my joy at finally meeting my brother's wife. I was sorry to miss your wedding."
"And you, Ser Jasper," Lady Selyse said, her voice somewhat distant. "You were missed at the wedding, of course. But your duty must come first, ser."
"Your understanding is most gracious," Jasper said. "And where is your lovely daughter, my lady? I'd like to meet my niece, Shireen."
"You can meet my daughter later," Stannis said, curtly.
Lady Selyse pursed her lips, silent, and Jasper was at a loss over what to say. Thankfully, Robert saved him by bringing forth a host of courtiers for Jasper to greet.
Lord Horton Wendwater, the Master of Laws, and Lord Arthur Bolling, the Master of Coin, men Jasper had meet before, were first. Jasper was surprised to find he now towered over both men, for they had seemed so big to him six years ago. Next came Lord Gyles Rosby, a sickly-looking man who almost fell over in a coughing fit after shaking Jasper's hand. Lady Harte, Lord Gower, and half a dozen others were all introduced, and Jasper greeted them with politeness as Lord Yohn had taught him. Just like six years previously, he did not feel particularly comfortable with these rich, simpering lords but he would not shame Lord Yohn by acting uncouth. Besides, what was a few spoiled highborn compared to vicious clansmen or fierce Ironborn warriors? He had been a boy six years previously and now, he assured himself, he was a man.
Lord Arryn then presented his wife, Lady Lysa. The former Tully woman's face was round and puffy, and Jasper caught the unpleasant smell of old milk from her, but she seemed courteous enough. He noticed the Lady of the Eyrie kept one hand firmly around her swollen middle.
"We are expecting the child early in the new year," she explained to him, both pride and something like fierce protectiveness in her voice.
"I wish you every luck in the birth, my lady," he said, knowing she had already had several miscarriages and stillbirths. "I'm sure you will have a healthy son."
"Alright, enough of this!" Robert boomed before Lady Lysa could respond. "Let's eat, I'm bloody hungry."
o-O-o
Over dinner, more a feast in Jasper's eyes, though Robert assured him dinners in King's Landing were always as big, Jasper was coaxed by Robert into telling the tale of his fight against the mountain clansmen and subsequent knighting. He felt embarrassed telling the story to others, but thankfully there were much less people present than there had been in the greeting hall. Lord Arryn had announced it a family affair so only Robert, Queen Cersei, Stannis, Lady Selyse, Lady Lysa and Lord Arryn himself were sat around the long dinner table. Robert was thrilled with the tale, and Lord Arryn, Queen Cersei, Lady Lysa and even Lady Selyse acted suitably impressed, or at least pretended to be, though Stannis's expression was stone throughout.
"So, you'll need swords and armour and horses now you're a knight, eh brother?" Robert said, taking a large gulp of wine.
"Aye," Jasper blushed, glancing down. "I don't mean to be a beggar…"
"Nonsense, you can have your pick of the royal armoury and stables!" Robert roared. "Or the treasury, if you prefer to have your own made. What's mine is yours, little brother."
"Although," Lord Arryn interjected, hastily, "there is plenty to pick from in the royal armoury, Ser Jasper. The treasury is dwindling as it is, Your Grace…"
"No matter, Lord Arryn," Jasper shrugged. "I'm sure you have fine horses in the stables. I have a sword and as long as I get the coin to refit, there's sure to be appropriate armour in the armoury, too."
"Counting coppers again, Jon? Gods, but that is tedious," Robert groaned.
"A burden of the office, I'm afraid," Lord Arryn grimaced, thumbing the chain around his neck.
Dinner was pleasant enough after that. Jasper spoke about Lord Yohn and the Vale to Lord Arryn and told the lord about the recent feasts and tourneys held in his lands, for it was clear the Lord of the Eyrie was rather detached from the Vale, to his own dismay. He asked Lady Selyse of Brightwater Keep and the Reach for he had never been that far south and that got her talking far more than she had up to that point. With Lady Lysa he talked of her uncle, the Knight of the Bloody Gate, Ser Brynden Tully, who he had seen not two moons past; she seemed happy to hear of him. He started to ask Stannis about Dragonstone, but his elder brother seemed disinterested in that subject.
"What have you planned for your future, Jasper?" he asked instead. "Will you reside in Storm's End or King's Landing?"
"Er…"
"There's also the matter of your eventual seat," Lord Arryn said, his voice grave and serious. "There have been several options discussed by the small council, Ser Jasper, but no concrete solution has been found. There is ample land in the Riverlands or Crownlands, but there are also the ruins of Summerhall, of course, which could be quite the statement, what with the palace's history as a Targaryen summer home. It must needs be rebuilt, first, however."
"And then there's the issue of your future bride," Stannis stated.
"Marriage!" Jasper spluttered, his lungs feeling oddly devoid of air.
"Yes, my boy, the right marriage could be crucial to the continued prosperity of House Baratheon," Lord Arryn said. "The wounds of the rebellion have not yet healed in many cases, but the right match for you could help ensure your brother's reign. Perhaps a Dornish bride…"
"The Dornish?" Queen Cersei laughed mockingly. "Why the bitch would be more likely to slit my good-brother's throat in the night. You know, lord hand, how they hate us so, down there in that steaming hellhole."
Lord Arryn eyed the queen neutrally and said, "Some families more than others, perhaps."
"Yes," Queen Cersei said, her teeth glittering brightly in the lamp-lit room, "Of course, forgive me, I had forgotten your trip to Sunspear, Lord Arryn. No doubt they said the right words and swore the right oaths, but you would not be the first honest man to be taken in by false Dornish promises."
"I assure you, my queen," Lord Arryn said, flexing his jaw uncomfortably, "Prince Doran wishes only for peace between Dorne and the Iron Throne."
"We shall see." Queen Cersei turned her eyes to Jasper then, who quailed a little under them. "As for young Jasper's match, may I suggest a bride from the Westerlands? There are several appropriate brides from House Lannister, or from one of my lord father's bannermen, if you prefer."
"I think your father has enough royal matches already, Your Grace," Stannis grit out.
Queen Cersei's beautiful eyes narrowed dangerously, but before she could speak Robert brought his meaty hand down on the wooden table before him with a mighty bang, silencing everyone's lips.
"Enough!" he roared. "My brother has only just returned from the Vale, and already you vultures are setting him up with some cow for life. Enough, I say!"
"But, my love…" the queen began.
"Oh, shut it, woman!" Robert spat. He turned to the Hand of the King. "Jon, let's put a stop to this future bullshit for now, eh?"
"As you command, Your Grace."
Jasper sighed with relief. He was not ready prepared for marriage anytime soon, that was for sure.
"I do," Robert belched, rubbing his stomach.
"Thankyou, Robert," Jasper said, slowly. "There is time enough to talk of my future later, but first I plan to see my twin once more and relax for just a little while."
Stannis scoffed quietly at that, but Robert nodded sagely.
"Now," the king said, "bottom's up, Jasper. Let's see how the Vale has worked on your drink tolerance, eh?"