Wife of the Wolf, Husband of the Sun

Chapter Seventy-Five

"Say. That. Again." The King spoke from the head of the small council table, in his indigo eyes there burned a dark rage that often meant that someone would be tied to a pyre soon enough and all that would be left of them was ashes. Thankfully, none of his pets were at hand at the moment, which was a rarer and rarer occurrence that Jon was finding himself more and more grateful for every time it happened.

It was the eunuch's words which had brought such ire up in the King but the Spider did not seem at all nervous that he would suffer the King's wrath at all, he had never done before. Perhaps Varys was in fact the only one that King truly trusted anymore, he had brought the eunuch from across the Narrow Sea in order to help him sniff out any treason and Varys was never unhappy to whisper what he had learned into the King's ear.

In fact, it would be ironic if the King so certain that there were traitors in every shadow trusted the foreign spymaster so much, as no one else did. There was something about him, he wore long flowing robes of silk and wore slippers on his feet which often meant that when he moved he often didn't make a sound and had a habit of appearing whenever something had happened in the Red Keep without ever needing to be summoned.

Jon did not trust him and he was filled with despair when Rhaegar had informed him that when he took the throne he meant to keep the Spider on the small council as the master of whisperers, Jon had tried to convince his silver prince against such an action but try as he might he had not been able to change Rhaegar's mind on that.

"Varys's only crime is doing what my Father has brought him here to do and that is to know what other men are saying about him." Rhaegar had told him over a supper of trout baked in clay, honey roasted ham studded with olives, lemon cakes, pear tarts and a flagon of sweet and spicy Hippocras to wash all of it down. "And he is good at that, he had ears in every single kingdom and I would not get rid of that so quickly."

"You cannot trust him." Jon had argued back, pointing out that it had been his Father who had given him the position of spymaster and mayhaps it would be better for all of them if a knife was to find it's way into the back of the Spider while he slept but Rhaegar would not hear of it and had commanded Jon to put that thought out of his head.

It seemed it was just as much a futile task to try and advice the son as it was to try and advice the Father. He had only accepted the role as Hand of the King because Rhaegar had almost begged him to accept it and Jon did not have it in him to say no to his Prince and thus he had found himself as one of the youngest hands in all of the history of those who had sat on the Iron Throne.

Not that he was of much use in that position anyway, some away from the court and hidden from the full force of the King's madness blamed his lack of effectiveness as a Hand on how young he was, he was so young that what place did he have to advice a king, who was he to replace Lord Tywin Lannister? A man who was barely old enough to be considered one? It was a jest in their eyes, and not a particularly funny one.

And that was the kinder lords, of which there were few. Others had been crueler as to why it was that the King did not heed his advice, the words were cruel and sharp as a razor and Jon would bear all of it. The jests and the snide looks and the whispers that if one of their sons ever turned out like that then they would do whatever they had to do in order to be rid of them, they always stopped short of saying kill of course, but the implication was always there.

Varys always looked so sorry when he told him these stories, like he was always a moment away from bursting into tears as he whimpered on and on about how cruel men could be when they were hidden safely behind their walls and thought they were surrounded by only true friends. He used to be a mummer, by all accounts, and while Jon could not claim to be much of a judge of that talent, he proved time and time again just how good he was at it.

Jon had been at Court for a long while and for a time he might have thought that Varys had been his friend, or at the very least an ally, it had taken him longer than he would like to admit to realize that Varys was no one's friend, was no one's loyal man. Varys was only Varys's man and he would see them all dead to see his own goals realized.

What those goals were, Jon wasn't sure. Perhaps it was something as simple as that he wanted to be the only one that the King had any trust in and wanted the rest of them to be comfortably out of the way so he could control the King for himself. It might indeed be just that and if so then he was well on his way to accomplishing that, the King allowed Varys to be closer to him than any other man at Court and he trusted everything his master of whispers told him without a second thought where anyone else would have been meet with high suspicion.

Jon wanted him gone but if Rhaegar's heart was truly set on him remaining as Master of Whisperers when he ascended to the Throne then there was little that Jon could do. Mind you, there was a war to come and in the chaos of such things, terrible things could happen and while it would be such a shame if during it all the King's Spider was found to have his head bashed in with a rock in a dark part of Flea Bottom.

That was a sweet thought even if not one that was likely to occur, he had never seen Varys leave the castle and any unfortunate accident would have looked too much like a murder most like, a murder could not be thought to have any role played in it by the King's own Hand and Rhaegar would not thank him for it. So he put the thought aside, at least for the moment.

"I know your Grace, it is always so awful when treason is so blatantly allowed to fester in the sight of men all of us thought to be good and honest and true but I am afraid that my little birds all say the same thing." Again, it was remarkable how Varys could say anything and make it sounds like he was moments away from bursting into tears. "The lords of the Stormlands are now in open rebellion, they have declared Robert and Stannis Baratheon's younger brother, dear little Renly, as the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms. My birds also say that Eddard Stark is there with a force of Northmen, which does include some other Northern lords among their number, they do not give an equal amount as to how many there are, some say only a few hundred while others say over a thousand, but it seems that the North is openly conspiring against the crown as well."

"And it would be terrible enough if that was the only such treason in our midst but so many over my little birds are singing such terrible tales from every corner your Grace's realm. In the North, an army of over twenty thousand strong or more waits for the command to march down from Moat Calin, to light the riverlands asunder and lay siege to our fair city, in the Vale Jon Arryn is no less blatant in his treason, calling his banners to him instead of following your order to account for his actions, where he could have been given a chance for his fair say while instead he chose to betray you."

"In Dorne, I have heard of dozens of ravens being sent back and forth between Sunspear and over a dozen Dornish Lords and Ladies of note, I dread when I think of what treason might be written on those pages. I can almost hear the spears shacking, some of my birds have suggested that some are already making their way up to the mountains. Prince Doran's sister is wed to Eddard Stark, I wish I could say that it would surprise me if they have been discussing treason but I cannot say that it would."

The King had been silent through all of Varys's speech and that was the most terrifying thing that Jon had seen from the King, even more when he was burning people alive or laughing madly when he inflicted some new cruel punishment on someone who he had deemed to be a traitor. He was silent, his hands curled into fists and his long, curled finger nails like claws were digging into the rests of his chair. He had gone pale and his pupils had shrunken to dots, tiny specks of black inside pools of purple.

The silence stretched on for a long moment, the King squeezed the air and a loud snap filled the air as his over grown finger nails broke in half, they had become embedded in the rests and that, it seemed, broke the spell of the King's silence as he let out a snarl as he rose to his feet. "Traitors! I knew it, I knew it to be so! The wolf and the stag and the falcon and the snake are all in bed with one another and the trout as well no doubt, Hoster had betrothed his eldest to that other Stark boy, the heir that ran off with that Dornish whore, I smell a plot there. And now she's wed to Arryn's nephew, they are all aligned against me!"

If Jon was a braver man, or perhaps a stupider one, then he might have dared to ask whose fault that was. He might have told the King that had he not resorted to burning men alive for every perceived slight then perhaps whispers of treason would never have begun to circle in the air, if he hadn't indulged in that madness of a slight of forcing Jaime Lannister and Elia Martell together in a twisted mockery of a betrothal then perhaps Dorne would not have been so quick to raise their spears for them, of course there complaint could be older, as old as the King deciding to break Rhaegar's betrohal to the plain Dornish Princess.

Perhaps if the King had not burned the High Septon alive, then they wouldn't have to worry now about what all the truly pious lords, not a great number on their own to be sure but with The North, the Stormlands, The Vale and most likely Dorne in open rebellion with maybe the Riverlands to join them as well a few noble lords in every kingdom suddenly became more swords aimed at them, were whispering to one another over their cups.

All of this rebellion was the fault of the King, if things were different then perhaps Jon could even see himself perhaps rising up with them, but Jon had chosen his side long ago. To turn on them now would be to make himself a turncloak and would to put himself against Rhaegar, he would not be able to do that.

It was strange, but for a time it had almost seemed that everything had been going so well. When Rhaegar had married the Lannister girl, even if he not been pleased about the match for certain other reasons not the least of which being he thought that Cersei Lannister was a complete twit and that was with him being as generous as he felt like being to her, it had seemed that everything was starting to fall into place.

The Westerlands were powerful and populated and rich, Lord Tywin was feared and respected through out all of the Seven Kingdoms and Jon for himself had been most pleased when the betrothal to Elia Martell had been put aside for Cersei Lannister instead, The Westerlands were closer than Dorne and had more swords for them, it was a stroke of good fortune for them that the King had decided to do so, their strongest ally was close at hand.

Even when they learned of the plotting of the other kingdoms, it need not have been so very dire. There main issue was surely with only the King, Rhaegar was well loved just as much as his Father was hated and surely they would've been able to make common cause with one another. They had tried to do so by having Lord Tywin's son wed Hoster Tully's younger daughter Lysa to Lord Tywin's son and heir Jaime, Rhaegar had even given letters to Elia Martell to make sure that they would reach Lord Stark and Prince Doran to inform them that he was moving against his Father as well, but neither Rhaegar nor he knew what happened to those letters after the King played his little jest.

And all Jon had to do was glance at Jaime Lannister standing behind the King, grabbed all in white, to remember how the plan to betroth the two of them had worked out. He had to wonder what Lord Tywin thought of that, to see his precious golden heir was now serving the man who thought of him as nothing more than a servant, and an ungrateful one on that.

Considering that his own spies had said that Lord Tywin had spoken to neither his son or his daughter since he arrived in the city, he imagined that could be taken that he did not think well of it at all. Lord Tywin was at this moment sat at the table of the small council, watching as the man he had served as his Hand carried on ranting.

But it seemed that Lord Tywin had little patience for putting up with it, he spoke, cutting through the King's rant. "Your Grace, calm yourself." Tywin Lannister spoke, rather like he was speaking to a child who was throwing a tantrum after he had been told that he could have no more lemon cakes until supper.

The King's lips pursed like he had just sucked on a lemon and for a moment Jon was terrified that he might have Lord Tywin dragged out and bound to the pyre, but he didn't do that. The King was mad, but he wasn't completely devoid of sense. He had just enough left to know that he was facing a rebellion from several kingdoms, to kill Tywin would cost him the Westerlands as well.

And most of the strength of the West had remained in the West, Lord Tywin had arrived with his younger brother Tygett and a small host of five hundred knights, but his other two brothers had remained at Casterly Rock and the Westerlands had many more knights to spare where those had come from. Anyone with eyes could see the message in that but Lord Tywin could not be accused of treason, the king's message had said only for Lord Tywin to come at once and he had followed that instruction to the letter.

As had Mace Tyrell, he had come with over a thousand knights which again was a mere fraction of a fraction of the strength that the Reach could field but Lord Mace had been quick to boast that the rest of his bannermen simply waited for his command to march in defense of their rightful king, a proud smirk on his once might have been handsome face.

He reminded Jon far too much of the lords that King had chosen to surrounded himself with, lords who told him what he wished to hear even if it was true or not and enabled his madness. Nodding their heads along whenever the King ranted about treason or whenever the King would make some bold proclamation, they would declare it a vision of genius and then say nothing when the King would forget about it days later. And in returned for their endless, shameless flattery, they were reward with positions, and influence and land taken from the hands of traitors.

Jon already knew what favor Mace Tyrell wanted, the man of course had said nothing about it and whenever he spoke to Jon he was never anything less than unflattering in his politeness but no one who wanted to survive at court was ever blatant about what they wanted, if they ever wanted to be a serious power within it.

Mace Tyrell wanted to be Hand and Jon was half tempted to let him have it, he could slip away in the middle of the night and make his way back to Griffin's Roost and be with his family, his Lady Mother would be glad to see him at the very least. She always was, thought she deserved a better son than him. She had been so proud when she learned that he was to be the Hand of the King, she had wept and spoken of how proud his Father would have been of him as well.

He would need to visit Father in the crypt as well, they had been close when he was a lad and he would carry him up to the tallest tower of their castle so he could see their lands stretching off all the way on to the horizon but once Jon had grown his first hairs on his chest and his face, there had ever been a coldness between them and the pair of them had drifted apart. There had been more than one argument between them

He had not been there when his Father had died, he had been with Rhaegar, touring him around the Stormlands and showing him all that he could do to impress him. They had gone fishing and hunting and hawking with one another, they had feasted with one another in a dozen lord's castles, they explored smuggler's coves and secret caves in the Rainwood and he treated every single smile and laugh that he could get out of the melancholy prince like it was the most rare jewel he would ever see.

They had been making their way to Storm's End to met with Lord Robert when a messenger intercepted them to tell them of his Father's death, he had fallen from his horse and shattered his hip and while the maester had done all that he could do it had not been enough, Lord Armond was in constant pain and was soon suffering from a chill that would not allow him to get warm and his Lady Mother had commanded the maester to give him milk of the poppy, to help him on his way rather than to see him suffer.

Rhaegar had given him leave to return to the Roost so that he could be there with his family but Jon, callous and cruel as he had been, had elected to stay with Rhaegar. His Father would still be dead by the time he got back after all, he was ashamed of how he had thought back then and it had been the only time he had ever seen his Mother ashamed of him as well, his cousin Ronald had not spoken to him for a moon's turn after that.

Ronald and he had never truly been close but that choice had put an end to even the slightest hint of warmness between them and when word had reached him that Ronald had been at the meeting of the lords inside of Storm's End, a pit had formed at the bottom of his stomach. It would be the end of one of them, either Jon would be decreed a traitor and the King would burn him alive or his cousin would be and he would be forced to take the risk of meeting him in the field of batter and wind up with his blood on his sword.

His relief had no measure then when word came that while a great number of lords had declared for their child king, Ser Ronald had not been one of them and he had taken the few men he had brought with him back to Griffin's Roost which meant that he was less likely to be burned alive or become a kinslayer, which in King's Landing surely constituted as a good day.

And it also put to bed any idle fantasies of running back home, war was here now and if he were to leave the King would just declare him a traitor while Ronald had made it very clear that they were King's men. Jon was not a king's man, he was Rhaegar's man but to serve Rhaegar meant, at least for the moment, that he would need to serve his Father.

"Varys." Lord Tywin spoke and got the attention of the spymaster, he was one of the few men that Jon had seen that did not refer to the man as Lord Varys. Even the King did that, even though Varys was not truly a proper lord as he had no castles or land. "It is not all of the Stormlands who had decreed for Renly Baratheon, angered they might be over the fate of their lord, he is barely more than a babe in arms. There are surely more sensible men who knew the price of treason."

"Oh indeed my Lord of Lannister, indeed." Varys spoke with a giggle and a smile and almost by magic the despair he had been radiating disappeared like it had never been there. "Even in the darkest of times there is a little light, our most noble and able Hand's own family has remembered who their true king is and they have raised their banner for him, however they are indeed slightly outnumbered, though not without some influence.

"I have even received some whispers that several prominent marcher lords are going to rise for your grace as well, to stand against these most vile rebels. What rebellion could these lords hope to sustain with so many swords pointed at their own back." Varys simpered before he carried on. "Oh, and whispers out of Gulltown as well, Jon Arryn does not have all of his banners flocking. Yes, there are men who remember their true king."

Varys words had cheered the King somewhat, he smiled smugly and sat back down in his chair, not caring from the blood that ran down his fingers. "Yes, yes. Oh yes. I am the King and we will see to it that these foolish rebels remember that. Lord Tyrell, Tywin. Call forth your banners and and march for the Stormlands, we shall crush the stormlords and Lord Rickard's brat against the Marcher Lords. Let the Dornishmen march up the Boneway if they want to, when they see their corpses baking in the sun, they will turn and run back to their castles and pray to never feel the Dragon's wroth for themselves."

The King looked certain, Lord Mace did not. He opened his mouth and closed it again to try and find the words but in the end it was Lord Tywin that spoke and he only needed to open his mouth once. "Your Grace, every man here is your loyal and true man but much and more is uncertain. Whispers are whispers, do we know for certain that the Marcher Lords are truly so opposed to the rebels? Do we know for certain that Gulltown is truly offering resistance to Jon Arryn?"

"I would suggest patience, let's us see who our enemies are." Tywin's eyes glanced over the King's head to look at his son, his tone growing a note colder. "And who our allies are as well, Lord Hoster has been insulted by both my son and Lord Rickard's. Either one of us could win him to our cause, and I fully intended for him to be on our side. Wait, your grace. Save your strength, and destroy all of your enemies when they are all in plain sight."

"And allow them to move about my kingdoms unmolested? While your strength and Lord Mace's cower back in your homelands?"

"We've both of us fought in wars your Grace, we both know that a battle is not a war. The Westerlands and the Reach can field more men than all of the other kingdoms put together, let them move about, let them go tired and put down a loyalist lord here or lay siege on a castle there. A host is something that grows weaker, every single second it exists. We will break them, your Grace. But when the time is right."

"I must agree with Lord Tywin, your Grace." Lord Mace was quick to say, finally finding his voice. "Rushing in blindly, could be a mistake. Better to wait, at least for a short time."

"If they lay siege to the city-

"To lay siege to King's Landing would be a foolish move with the full might of your Grace's power still being held back, if they did that then the war would be over in a fortnight." Lord Tywin replied before the King could finish and from the tone of his voice Jon got the idea that he very much wanted to role his eyes at the King, he had better sense than to do it however, if he had then most likely his eyes would have been plucked out.

The King did not look so pleased at that, after a moment he let out a snarl of disgust and frustration. "Very well, but I warn you that I will not wait long. And I want your armies ready to march at a moment's notice, do you understand me? The both of you?"

"Perfectly, your Grace." Lord Tywin answered and Mace Tyrell copied his sentiments, the meeting did not last much longer than that and Jon was glad of it as he bid his farewell to the rest of the men gathered around the table and made his way to the Tower of the Hand, climbing the steps within to reach his apartments at the very top.

All he wanted to do in that moment was to fall into his bed and sleep for the rest of the year but it seemed that he had done something to anger the gods at some point as now another Lannister had come to contended with him and there was no Lannister that he wished to deal with less than Cersei Lannister herself, grabbed in a gown of crimson and gold.

"Princess Cersei." Jon spoke once he saw her sitting in front of his desk, her hands resting over her belly. "I cannot say that I was expecting you, who is it that let you into my apartments."

"I am the wife of the future King, Ser Jon. This is his castle, it was hardly difficult for me to convince the fools you hire for guards to let me in." He hated to agree with her but he might just have too, he was the King's own hand, in name if nothing else, and none should be able to just come into his chambers unless they were the King. He would need to have a word with them when he had a moment.

"Be that as it may, Princess. I've just had an extremely long meeting with the Small Council, to figure out what we are to do about treason within the realm, so unless it's important could I please beg for you to come and speak with me another time? Perhaps when I am already inside my office."

"It is an important matter, Ser Jon, I would argue that it is the most important matter at the moment." Cersei Lannister said with a smile but it looked so forced, like she was doing her best not to scream. "Where is my husband? With treason abounding, surely it is the most important matter to secure the heir to the throne."

"I don't know Princess, no one knows." And that was something that he could not understand, it had all been going so well and then Rhaegar had spit into everyone's porridge by crowning the Stark girl and then running off with her as well. And no one knew where he had taken her, Varys had claimed to hear nothing but Jon wouldn't believe that, for a time he had thought that perhaps that meant Varys was on the prince's side, but why would his prince not tell him. "Wherever he is, he is without a doubt well protected."

"Oh, to be certain. But you can see why I am worried." Cersei Lannister spoke and then got to her feet, a vicious smile on her face and this one did not look nearly forced at all. "Considering I am newly with child once again, I know it so. Pycelle will come and confirm it when I summon him. Ensure my husband is aware of that."

She was pregnant again? His spies had told him that the Prince had laid with his wife the night before he had left for his...hunt, but Jon had started to assume there must have been some damage after she given birth to the little princess that Rhaegar had been able to convince Pycelle to keep secret from the rest of the court. "My Lady, I do not know where he is."

"The only reason you are the Hand of the King is because of him, he seeks your council far more than the King ever does." Her smile fell away, to be replaced with a sneer that marred her lovely face, well, some might find it lovely. "This was my Father's office, he was so great a Hand that all knew that he ruled the Seven Kingdoms. And it will be his office once again, so tell me where my husband is and where he took that whore or I promise you this, I will ensure that it will not be peaceful when you leave it."

"I believe my Princess is tired, I would suggest she leave before I say something out of turn." Jon's voice dropped and Cersei Lannister scoffed, turning and walking out of the apartments with a hand resting on her still flat belly. Jon waited until she left before he slumped back into his chair, trying to catch his breath.

Once he had calmed himself, he had a pitcher of wine brought to him and pulled out a map of Westeros. His mind filled with thoughts as to where his Silver Prince had gone.

And why he hadn't told him.

End of Chapter Seventy-Five

As we are getting into a new part of the story, it seemed only right that we experience a new P.O.V and this time, it's one from the actual books. Jon Con has always been a really interesting character to me, he's the closest thing we get to an actual look at Rhaegar but even then, he idolizes him, makes him perfect in death.

Jon here, while still devoted and in love with him, is slightly more willing to be more critical of him. Anyhow, the pieces gather and a storm comes nearer and nearer.

Next chapter, we'll be back with Ned.

Please leave a review, a follow and a favorite if you enjoyed. Constructive Criticism is always welcome.

With a ton of love,

DiscordantSymphony