Enter the mind of a bitter soon to be fourteen year old Lord Paramount. This chapter falls some time before the Tournament of the Hand in no particular order, so you could likely place it at anywhere in the continuity so long as it falls after the previous and before 'GOT Sansa II', which is likely the next chapter I'll be updating/modifying.

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim any ideas, places, or characters from the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series. Cheers

How many more slights will he ask me to endure? He sat in his quarters alone, leaning on the arm that he had stationed on the table. He looked out of the window and down onto King's Landing. It was always so busy, it didn't matter if it was night or day. So many people, so little space. It was a wonder how housing half a million didn't send the place into chaos.

Olyvar's mind wandered endlessly, trying to find something to think about. But every time his mind came back to his recent conversation with his uncle, Lord Eddard, who had been sent to inform him of the king's decision to award the title of Warden of the East to Jaime Lannister, the infamous Kingslayer.

"Damnit." Olyvar grabbed a copper goblet from the table and chucked it across the room, letting his frustrations get the better of him. It was all he could do these days to channel his rage at the royals. I live alongside of that man for fourteen years, and I get slighted. Am I the second coming of Stannis? He had heard the stories of how his mentor had held Storm's End for Robert during the war, and his reward had been to be shipped away to Dragonstone. Even if Olyvar was still inheriting the Eyrie, he now understood why his mentor had been so bitter towards the king.

It wasn't about giving the title to Jaime Lannister. In truth, he never minded the Kingslayer, despite the rest of his family's predisposition to him. He always went out of his way to mock, yes, but it was Jaime who slayed the Mad King in the midst of the war, sealing the Targaryen defeat and attempting to save thousands of lives. What was more honorable than that? It hadn't been Jaime that ordered the murders of Eila Martell and her children. That had been his father, yet Jaime was grouped in with all of the monstrous things that had happened. Olyvar didn't understand why.

The thing that had made him so angry was that his father's own ward was now refusing him the very thing that he had refused Stannis; recognition. The Warden of the East was a title that had been passed down from Arryn to Arryn for nearly three hundred years since Aegon's conquest. And now that line was to be broken, just because Robert Baratheon didn't have faith in him? Was he not Jon Arryn's son, the very same son that Robert had entrusted his own daughter to in the future?

But of course, his uncle had made his voice and opinion heard. At the point where Olyvar had been ready to follow his mother's example and depart for the Eyrie without giving proper farewells, cold Ned Stark had been able to quell his temper. If you care about your cousins, if you care about your future wife, you will stay here until this foolish tournament has come to an end. Those had been the words of Eddard that struck him hardest.

Olyvar had watched for many nights as Arya and Sansa dined without acknowledging one another. He continued to listen to Arya's complaints of Sansa's supposed blindness when it came to Joffrey's true nature. He could only pat his young cousin on the head and tell her that Sansa would come around eventually, unable to believe his own words.

And Sansa…Gods, he doubted that there would be any way for their relationship to heal in the near future. She believed that he had taken Arya's side, and had refused to talk to him unless her lord father commanded it of her. Even then, her voice was crisp, almost as cold as her mother's the night she had addressed Jon Snow with such venom. Tully women have a way of cutting deep. He thought to himself in silent bitterness.

A knock came at the door. Likely Arya or Uncle. "Enter." He called. But as the door creaked open, Olyvar was treated to another sight, for there standing in the doorway was a plump figure of average height. Only the hands were not covered by the gleaming gold robes, and they looked to be quite soft. And oddly enough, there was a scent of lilacs that accompanied the figure. But no sooner than Olyvar began trying to piece together the identity of the figure than it removed his hood, revealing himself to have a powdered face and bald head.

Lord Varys, Robert's master of whispers.

"Ahh, Lord Arryn. So nice to have you back with us at the capital."

"Lord Varys." Don't ever trust that damn eunuch. Lord Stannis' words rang in his ears. "Please sit. What do I owe the pleasure?"

"Oh, the pleasure is all mine, my Lord." Varys said softly, taking the seat across from Olyvar. He was wearing a soft smile. "I've heard of the incident that occurred at the Trident. I assume that is the reason why you are back in the capital?"

"Why would that be the reason?" Olyvar was already in an annoyed mood, he did not need to be reminded of what had happened at Castle Darry. "Robert did nothing to affect me personally."

"Of course, but he did do something to your family, did he not?" Olyvar closed his fist tight as Varys continued smiling at him. "It seems that you take after your mother's words more so than your father's."

"Come, Lord Varys. You didn't come here to simply talk about the Trident or which side of my family I favor." Olyvar challenged the grinning eunuch. "What is it you are here for? I'm not in a mood to have trivial discussions, and I'm sure your time could be better used elsewhere."

"Quite right." Despite his fierceness, Olyvar noticed Varys continuing to talk in a pleasant tone. "I was simply curious as to what your mother told you before she fled back to the Eyrie."

Olyvar's eyes opened wide. It had been some time since he had time to think about that night, it felt a lifetime ago. But there was his mother, standing over top of him, shaking him to wake up. Come Olyvar, come. We must flee. These lions will kill you. You have to come with me. She had sounded panicked and hysteric, but Olyvar still refused her. He had needed to speak with Stannis, to obtain council. Not even his mother's curses moved him from that choice.

"Varys." Olyvar looked away from the eunuch and back out the window. "Why do you ask questions that you already know?"

"I tend to try giving those I question a chance to answer truthfully." Olyvar looked back to see Varys' smile had stretched across his face. "But it seems that you are all too aware of my games. No doubt Lord Stannis' tutelage."

And don't forget that, eunuch. "So, what am I to make of this? You come to me, asking a question I already know that you know the answer to. What's the purpose?"

"To make sure you know what you're up against." Now the eunuch's voice cut to a more serious tone, capturing Olyvar's attention. "Your lord father died for something secret, something that would tear the realm apart if given the chance. And it seems that your uncle is determined to uncover this secret himself."

"A secret?" This had been the first that Olyvar had heard of such a thing as a reason why the Lannisters would have ended the life of his father. "I don't suppose you know what this secret is, my lord?"

"I have suspicions, but I cannot share them with you. Especially not now, with you having challenged the Lannisters openly." Olyvar looked away in frustration, grinding his teeth. "You are already a target, one that your lord uncle the Hand has taken great care in protecting. He will not see Jon Arryn's son die, even if it means suppressing that spirit we're all aware you have and making you promise to control yourself."

"It does not matter. I won't be here for long." Olyvar looked back out the window at the city. "I am to leave in a short time, after the tourney is complete."

"Will you truly be able to?" Varys demanded. "You take great pride in your house, your family. Knowing that your father has been dispatched by the queen or the queen's men, can you truly go back to the Eyrie without feeling guilt for leaving your cousins and uncle at their mercy?"

Olyvar looked the eunuch dead in the eyes. "If what you say is true, then my uncle likely knows all of these facts as well. I need not complicate things further for him here. He will find the truth, he will honor my father."

Varys rose from the table. "Ned Stark is an honorable man. As was your father. But trust me when I say this, my Lord Arryn. Honorable men do not last long in this city."

Olyvar followed the Spider as made his way out of the room. His words had made him uncomfortable, but he had promised his uncle that he would depart from King's Landing without protest after the tournament. He had to return to the Eyrie, but after gaining support, we would come back to King's Landing.

He began thinking about the eventual trip back to Gulltown, giving it much thought. I may have to stop at Dragonstone.

A/N: Different take on Jaime than the rest of the character's right? Maybe it's my personal views of Jaime being mixed in, but I wanted to give Olyvar a bit of a different view than the one his uncle possesses. Growing up at court, he doesn't see Jaime has being anything more than the man who killed Aerys, the very same man whose stories of cruelty Olyvar had heard throughout his life. He's like Robert in a sense that he doesn't really care how Jaime killed Aerys, just that he did so. It doesn't mean Olyvar likes Jaime by any stretch of the imagination, but he understands.

Meanwhile, Varys' mind games begin.