Before getting into the story let me make certain things clear. I'll be following the show storyline to an extent (since George has not finished the books). The ages of the characters will follow the show's ages from canon.
My OC will be born when Joffrey was supposed to be born, and Joffrey as Myrcella's twin. My OC is a year younger than Robb and Jon at canon.
Certain elements in this story you'll find fantastical, which I'll try to explain in the story to the best of my abilities. Don't forget to comment on your opinions (constructive criticism is welcomed) and let me know what you think of the story. Never shy away from throwing ideas either. Who knows? I might incorporate it somehow ;)
Hope you enjoy my story! ^-^
The Seven Bells of the Seven Towers of the Great Sept of Baelor tolled, its sound echoing all through the city. Seven women in white clothing, their faces covered by a veil, circled the body of the deceased Hand of the King with the Seven-Pointed Star on a banner strapped to their backs and in their hands were chains with the Seven-Pointed Star attached to one end. Footsteps were heard on the balcony on the floor above where the Hand of the King rested, where a woman of striking beauty leaned against the Parapet and watched silently.
"As you brother, I feel it's my duty to warn you…" said the man who had approached the woman, "You worry too much. It's starting to show."
"And you never worry about anything" The woman rolled her eyes, looking back to the body and then back to her brother. "When we were seven and you jumped off the cliffs at Casterly Rock, a hundred-foot drop into the water… You were never afraid."
"There was nothing to be afraid of until you told Father." Said the man with an easy smile. "We're Lannisters. Lannisters don't act like fools" he added, deepening his voice in a caricature of his Father's voice.
"What if Jon Arryn told someone?" the woman asked, turning back to the body.
"But who would he tell?" the man asked.
"My husband," the woman said with a sigh.
"If he told the King, both our heads would be skewered on the city gates by now" the man stated in an obvious tone. "Whatever Jon Arryn knew or didn't know, it died with him. And Robert will choose a new Hand of the King, someone to do his job while he's off fucking boars and hunting whores. Or is it the other way around?" the man asked, the smile now a smirk and amusement shining in his green eyes.
"You should be Hand of the King" the woman suggested.
"An honour I can do without" The man finally turned away from the woman, now looking at the body of the deceased. "Their days are too long, and their lives too short" he hummed. "How is he doing?"
"See for yourself. He's hardly moved since the body's been brought here" the woman motioned to the body. At the head of it stood a tall young man, his hair pale gold and messy. He wore a simple off-white tunic and grey pants. "He refuses to leave, to eat, to talk even. I worry for him."
"It's no surprise, Jon was like the grandfather he never had."
"He has a grandfather."
"We both know what I mean" the man smiled. "Jon cared deeply for him, like a grandfather does like our father did not. And he cared just as deeply for the man as if he was his grandfather. It is never easy to lose people you care about" the man paused for a moment, seemingly lost in his own thought. He shook his head when he snapped out of it. "He will snap out of it soon. He is the son of two of the most stubborn people I know, a fighter through and through."
"I hope you're right" the woman mumbled softly, her gaze on the young man, eyes brimming with worry.
They had made plans to visit the Eyrie, for Jon to show him all the splendours of the place that the old man called home. But they never had that opportunity. The fever had come out of nowhere and burned through him so quickly that the maesters could not do anything. He had not left the man's side since, hoping that maybe he would miraculously come back to life like he had so many years ago.
His mother had told him the story multiple times, sometimes out of pride for his strength and sometimes when he got sick and she wanted to tell herself that he would make it through. He had been a newborn when he died, barely half a day old. And when they were preparing to put him to rest, he had come back, crying stronger than he had when he was born. The Maesters had no idea as to how that happened, and the Septons considered him a blessing from the Seven. Orys was hoping for a similar miracle now, a blessing from the Seven to return Jon.
"My Prince, your mother wishes for you to join her for lunch" someone spoke behind him, a woman judging from her voice. Many such people had come to him in the seven days that he stood vigil for Jon, to inform him that his mother wanted him to join her for food, or for him to get some rest. Orys' reply was the same now as it was before, complete silence. After a while, they all left, as did this woman.
He heard the gates open behind him, saw the light stream through, and the giant shadow that was cast. It could not be the shadow of the woman that had just come, nobody in King's Landing was this big. Well, nobody but one person.
"How long have you been here?" he heard the voice of his father, deep, booming and solemn.
"As long as you've been out hunting" he replied in a modest but cold voice.
His father, the King, stepped up and stood beside him. Neither of them spoke, content with the silence and just staring at the body of Jon Arryn.
"Have you eaten anything?" the King asked, and the Prince remained silent. That made the King sigh. "Jon would not want you to go hungry on his behalf."
"I… I know" The Prince cleared his throat, pushing his emotions down. His father would not like him showing any emotions right now, especially not him breaking down.
"Jon was like a Father to me" the King mumbled. "My years spent at the Eyrie were the best years of my life. He's taught me more than my Father ever did. Not that I blame the man, he died while I was fostering at the Eyrie."
"Jon told me many stories of your time at the Eyrie" the Prince mumbled.
"Then you must know the kind of boy I was, the man I had to become, and the King I am" The King placed a hand on his son's shoulder, the Prince did not shrug it off. "I have a hard time showing my emotions positively. It is why I hunt."
"Because hunting and fighting are your ways of relieving yourself."
"Aye… it is."
They dissolved into silence once more, but not for as long as they did the first time.
"Come son, they need to take the body."
He wanted to cry, act like a child and stubbornly not allow them to do so. Jon would wake any time now, he would wake and scold his father for going off hunting instead of doing his job as a King. He would wake, hug Orys and plan their trip to the Eyrie.
But he knew better. Miracles only happened once.
It was an awkward dinner, just him and his father and his page, filled with small talk and awkward silence in between. The man had brought back a boar from his hunt, which had been prepared for them. His mother had eaten already, as had his siblings with her.
"Have you decided on a new Hand?" the Prince asked, taking a bite out of his meal. He heard the sound of utensils stop on his father's side of the table.
"It is too early to think about that" his father grouched, resuming his eating.
"Jon would tell you otherwise" The Prince lifted his gaze to his father, picking his chalice and sipping from it.
"Damned man taught you too much politics" the King grumbled, but he looked not too disturbed by it. "I have someone in mind."
"Who is it?"
"Ned Stark. He's a good man and a better fit for this than anyone I know."
"I see."
"You don't seem too happy to hear it. Was there someone else that you wanted? Your grandfather perhaps?" the King raised an eyebrow.
"No, I had no one in mind" the Prince shook his head. "I simply do not know the man well enough to have an opinion on him yet."
"Surely Jon's told you about Ned. We fostered under him in our youth."
"He has. But you've also taught me that time changes people and that men change with time and experience. I am aware of the Lord Stark from Jon's stories, but not the man he is now."
The King snorted before shaking his head. "Jon's taught you well, my boy. Not surprising, he's always been a fantastic teacher and guide."
"That he was" They both went silent again, this time to sip at their wine. "I'm guessing you'd want to journey to the North to tell Lord Stark in person?"
"Aye. It's been a while since I've been out of the Capital. I need to stretch my legs a bit. And I have people to meet there, and people to pay my respects to."
Lyanna Stark, Orys thought. The tale of the Rebellion was well known to him, even the reason why it truly began, his father had told him as much. The woman was long dead, but even now Orys saw how much his father cared for her. So much more than he cared for his wife.
"Then I will send a raven to Lord Stark to inform him of your decision to journey North, as well as all the Lords we'd be visiting in this progress."
"Other Lords?"
"It is a royal progress father, and as you've said, you've not done one in a while. It would do us and the Lords and commoners good to see their King and know that he has not forgotten them. A royal progress through the Riverlands and parts of the North leading to Winterfell might be a good idea."
"Bah!" the King slammed his chalice down and had his page pour him another round before he swallowed it. "Jon's taught you well, boy!" This time he was not so fond when he said it, which made Orys snort in amusement.