The Narrow Sea 298 AC.
Jon Snow.
She couldn't take anything to help her sleep because of the babe and so each night she'd simply cry herself out before finally giving in to the need for rest. His words of comfort were spoken often and yet Jon wasn't certain that any of them were truly heard by his wife. He'd lay beside her in the bed, his fingers brushing through her hair or touching the swell of her belly, and only that she'd grab his hand in hers should he move or he'd know not if his presence was even noticed.
Jon heart broke for her, his grief for a man who'd done so much for him was only doubled because that man was his wife's father. The news had shattered what was turning into an almost idyllic life for them both. Thoughts of the future that they'd have, that their babe would grow up and know, had all been superseded by the Stranger's Kiss that had taken Jon Arryn from this world. He'd been fit and healthy when they'd last saw him. Old though he was, there were few men as vital and full of vigor as his Goodfather. Jon Arryn had been happy too, the knowledge that he was to be a grandfather was something that he took great comfort in. Then, almost in the blink of an eye, he was no more.
Had the news not come from such a source, then he'd have denied it. But it was not only a raven's scroll bearing the sigil of House Baratheon that bore such news, Varys too had confirmed it after some days. His Master of Whisperers finding the timing of both Jon Arryn's illness and death to be suspect and yet Jon could barely even consider that then, or even now if he was being honest with himself. Truth be told, the only true consideration he'd had these past few days was for his wife. Elaena had taken the news just as badly as he'd expected her to and thus far, he'd been of little comfort to her.
Looking to her, he was pleased to see she'd closed her eyes finally and while he waited to listen to her breathing and to be certain she was asleep, he knew that he had work to do and things that needed to be discussed. So rising from the bed as quietly and carefully as he could, he looked to Winter and Frost, who then moved to offer their own comfort to his grieving wife and the babe she carried in her belly. With a look to Ghost, Jon moved silently to the door, his footsteps still louder than the white wolf's. Then after a quick glance back to the bed, he walked from their cabin on the ship. The cool night's air hit him immediately as he did so and he breathed it in deeply, before turning to Gyles and bidding him stand guard at the door.
"If she wakes, send for me immediately," he said to the concerned young boy.
"You can count on me, Ser Jon."
He offered the young lad as true a smile as he could muster and then looked to Arthur and Sandor, the three of them then moving to the front of the ship. In the sky above, the moon was full and it illuminated them somewhat. Yet Jon welcomed the darkness too as ever since the news had arrived of Jon Arryn's death, far too many people had sought to interpret his expressions and moods. He wished them not to worry about him, for there was someone far more important than he who deserved all of their concerns.
"She's resting." he said before the questions could be asked "How close are we?"
"A day or so. By the day after the morrow at the latest, I'd wager." Arthur said.
"I may need you to speak to Varys on my behalf, Arthur, or you Sandor. To ask the questions I cannot."
"We'll see it done, Jon." Arthur resolved as Jon moved to the ship's rail and looked down at the water beneath him.
"Am I wrong to think it so? To see more in this than a simple passing of an aged man?" he asked them, the sea or sky above, or no one in particular.
"He was as hale and hearty as any man, Jon, not just for his age but for any age."
"Aye, Arthur has the right of it, Jon. This doesn't pass the fucking smell test."
"Smell test?" he asked confused as he turned to look at Sandor.
"When you cook meat you've hunted or had in your pack, do you cook it if it smells bad?"
"No," he said firmly.
"The smell test," Sandor said and Jon nodded, seeing now what his sworn shield meant.
He was right too, this didn't pass the smell test and yet he for the life of him couldn't think of anyone who'd want Jon Arryn dead. No, that wasn't quite true, there was someone. Jon just couldn't see how it could be done and not be found out.
"How do poisons work?" he asked after a few moments and he saw Arthur frown at his words.
"You believe he was poisoned? By who? Why?"
"I know not, Arthur, not for true. I just wonder if someone could be poisoned and it go undetected."
"By you or I, mayhap. Not by the Grandmaester, Jon."
"Not unless he played a role in it," Sandor said causing them both to look at him.
Just as he was about to ask some more, Gyles came running his way and Jon didn't need to hear the young lad speak to know what had occurred. With a nod to both Arthur and Sandor, he moved quickly across the deck and was soon running down the stairs and entering his cabin. He found her sitting up on the bed, Winter's head rested on her lap as Frost looked at her concernedly. Moving to take a seat beside her, the two wolves joined Ghost and gave them space and some privacy.
"Are you hungry?" he asked softly to a shake of Elaena's head "You should eat, my love. Some soup, something?" he asked and again she shook her head "Please, for me, for the babe."
He took her hand in his and she squeezed his own as he did so. After a few moments of silence, she eventually nodded and so he called out for Gyles and sent his squire to fetch some food for them both. Though he wasn't hungry, he felt it for the best if he at least tried to eat with her as it might make her eat something at least.
"When will we arrive?"
"The day after the morrow," he replied and felt her shiver.
"I don't know if…..I can't….Jon….I can't…" she sobbed.
Taking her in his arms, he allowed her to cry against his chest. Jon spoke softly to her and told her that she only had to do as much as she felt able to. No one would make her do something against her will or that she wasn't ready for. When he spoke of her brother, he felt her resolve strengthen somewhat. Though all too soon, the tears began again. He almost thanked the gods aloud when Gyles arrived with the food and did so silently when Elaena took a seat with him at the table. Though he almost had to feed her to get her to eat something.
As soon as she'd finished eating, it was back to her bed and Jon helped her undress. He lay down with her and spoke softly to her as he caressed the swell of her belly. All too soon she had drifted off and he was then left alone with his thoughts. Nothing felt right to him about Jon Arryn's death, and yet, a part of him wondered if it was his own grief and feelings of loss over it that was leading his mind where it wished not to go. Resolving to speak to Varys as soon as he could once they'd arrived in King's Landing, Jon closed his eyes and willed sleep to come.
The next day was almost a mirror of the previous one and it wasn't until Gyles informed him that King's Landing was in sight did their routine actually change. Elaena seemed to find some strength from he knew not where and much to his surprise, she dressed, ate, and was ready to disembark from the ship before he was. Taking her by the hand and looking to Arthur and Sandor, Jon led her down the gangplank and to the waiting guards.
They rode in a carriage to the Red Keep and though she remained silent all the way, his wife would occasionally squeeze his hand as if to make certain that he was still there with her. He heard her breath hitch when the carriage stopped and once again, he spoke softly to her, this time getting a small kiss on the cheek for his trouble. There was no true welcome waiting for them and he was happy enough about that. Instead, it was just some of the guards from House Arryn and Lord Jon's squire, the newly named Ser Hugh. Looking around for Lysa, Robert, or even Maester Colemon or Jaspar, Lord Jon's steward, he was annoyed to see none of them present.
"My sympathies, my lady, Ser Jon. Lord Jon was a good man." Ser Hugh said and it was clear to him that Elaena was in no condition to offer him any reply.
"On behalf of my wife and myself, I thank you, Ser Hugh. I beg your forgiveness, but we'd seek to get settled before presenting ourselves to his grace."
"Of course, Ser Jon. If I can be of any help, feel free to seek me out."
"I thank you, Ser Hugh. For your service to Lord Jon and for your kind offer."
His words were practiced and he did have many questions for Ser Hugh, now just was not the time. Leading his wife into the keep, they made their way to the Tower of the Hand and he was surprised to see just how few men of House Arryn there were on duty. Though by the time they reached what had been Lord Jon's quarters, the reason for that absence was soon revealed to him and to Elaena, both of them taking it very differently.
"Where is my brother, Jon? "Elaena asked worriedly.
"I know not, my love, but I shall find out most quickly." he replied, his annoyance and anger somehow held in check for now "We should greet his grace and then go pay our respects to your father."
"I…" Elaena stuttered "I'm ready." she said and though he could see she was trying to be, he was sure that she was very much not.
He'd be there for her, whatever she needed from him she'd receive. Not even the suspicions and doubts he had in his head, and that were now growing, about Lord Jon's death, would stop that being the case. Once he was sure she was well, then and only then would he seek to find out the truth of things. Should he find out that the death was not natural, then whoever had caused it had better find a place far from here to hide from the wrath he'd lay down upon them.
King's Landing 298 AC.
Jaime Lannister.
Jon Arryn's death had taken them all by surprise. One moment the man was as healthy as any and the next he was gone in almost an instant. His Maester, Pycelle, neither had been able to do any more than simply make him somewhat comfortable in his last few days. Jaime had been glad of Barristan then, for it did not add up in his mind and he worried what this meant for them, for the king, and for their plans. Speaking to his brother-in-arms had allowed some of that worry to be alleviated for now.
"Could someone have found out the truth? Known what Lord Jon planned?" he asked as they sat alone in White Sword Tower.
"I cannot see how, nor why if they did, that this would be how it was addressed, Jaime. Surely if the truth was known it would have been revealed publicly and we'd already be at war."
"Mayhap they feared that Robert wouldn't believe them and so acted in secret instead, we should warn the king."
"I'm certain the king is well aware and protected. Knowing Arthur as we both do, his mind will be working how both of ours is." Barristan said and Jaime breathed a sigh of relief, the words he'd spoken were true and Arthur would be on even higher alert now "He was hale and hearty upon his return from the Vale, Barristan, this illness was much too quick to be natural."
"Mayhap. Yet I can think not of anyone who'd wish him dead other than Robert Baratheon or your father should the truth be known. And Robert's rage would be not something he could contain, as for your father…"
"Poison is not the weapon he'd choose, and as you say, we'd already be at war."
"We should watch things as closely as we can, Jaime. See as much as we can see and be ready to report it all to his grace when he arrives." Barristan said resolvedly.
"He will arrive?"
"On that, I have no doubt."
So he'd done as Barristan had bid him and had watched as Robert Baratheon had bawled and blubbered like a newborn babe. Even when he was deep in his cups, the man's sadness was clear to see. Any doubt that Jaime had of his involvement in Jon Arryn's death had quickly been removed. Which was more than could be said in regards to others and their actions. He'd overheard Pycelle speak of an illness of the belly, one that affected men of a certain age and that it could and most likely had been the cause of death.
Maester Colemon had agreed with the Grandmaester's assessment and when asked about the fact that Lord Jon had shown no signs of any such illness before, he'd deferred to Pycelle having more knowledge of this particular illness than he. Had that been all that had occurred, then Jaime would have simply accepted that the death was natural. If he knew not about the truth of Jon Snow, and what Lord Jon planned, then he'd have simply accepted that age had finally caught up to the Hand of the King. Were it not for Lysa Tully's actions, then Jaime would not have listened to the growing feeling he had that this was far more nefarious than it first looked.
While he contemplated the truth and waited for the king to arrive, his sister almost reveled in Robert's misery. Cersei was as happy as he'd ever known her to be and it disturbed him greatly. Jon Arryn had committed no offense against her that Jaime was aware of and the only crime he could think she may consider him guilty of, was in taking the pin that she believed their father deserved. So to hear her speak almost giddily of how Elaena Arryn must be feeling and of how Lysa Tully must be wishing to throw a feast now that she no longer had to lay with such an old man, was not something he listened to for long.
"What care you for an old man's death. Jon Arryn was no friend of our House." Cersei said angrily when he bid her speak no more.
"Jon Arryn is the reason you are a queen, Cersei." he said then held his hand up when she went to interrupt him to say their father was the reason "True, father sought the crown you wear, but make no mistake, had it not been for Jon Arryn, then Robert Baratheon never would have wed you. It was his words that brokered the match, his far more than father's and his that convinced Robert of the prudence of such."
"And I should be grateful to him for sentencing me to a life with such a man?" Cersei asked annoyed.
"No, but mayhap you should respect the man enough to let him rest in peace and not dance on his grave."
"I understand you not at times, brother mine," she said as she walked away and though he didn't speak the words, the truth was that the feeling was more than mutual.
Lysa Tully sneaking away in the dark of the night, taking her son and the vast majority of the household with her and no doubt heading back to the Vale, had shocked everyone, him included. She'd shown no true mourning for her husband's loss, yet that alone was nothing to be suspicious of. Disappearing how she did, without even seeing her husband honored by the king and without his bones to bring back to the Vale, Jaime understood it not.
As for Robert, the man was wroth and as angered as he'd ever known him to be. Only being told that Ser Jon and Lady Elaena had sent a raven to say they'd left from the Vale had been enough to calm him somewhat. Though it was Varys who arrived in King's Landing before either the king or queen did. Jaime wished to seek the man out but knew he could not, for now at least. Instead, as he'd agreed with Barristan, he kept his ears open and listened to the whispers that were oft-heard around the Red Keep. He sought them out without seeming to do so, and he found that few if any spoke of Jon Arryn. Other than to mourn not the man, but his daughter and Goodson's loss.
"Varys wishes to speak to us both. The hour of the owl, in the tunnels." Barristan whispered as they switched duties and Jaime nodded to let him know he'd be there.
The wait seemed to go on forever. He ate, washed, dressed, and then had little of anything to do. Eventually, the time was upon him and he made his way from White Sword Tower, into the Red Keep, and down the stairs to the tunnels below. It took him some time to hear the voices and he arrived to find both Barristan and Varys were already deep in conversation. Alerting them to his presence, Jaime moved closer to both men and hoped to find answers to the questions that he still had in his head.
"The king is safe, Ser Jaime, before you ask." Varys said almost resignedly and Jaime wondered if Barristan had spoken of that far more than anything else that the eunuch may have wished to speak on "What can you tell me about Lord Jon's death?" Varys then asked.
"As much as Barristan, I wager. One moment he was well, the next he was very much not. He seemed hale and hearty, Varys, where this illness came from I know not."
"I spoke the same," Barristan said.
"It's most strange. I had wished to examine the body, but the Silent Sisters have already been about their work." Varys said surprising both he and Barristan.
"I'd have thought Robert would have…"
"As would I, Ser Barristan. Which begs the question, who decided it was to be so?" Varys said contemplatively "When we spoke in the Vale, as we firmed up our plans, not a man of us felt there was anything wrong with Lord Jon. Lord Royce and he were true friends and while he may not have confided in some were he to be ill, I've no doubt that he'd have confided in him."
"He did not?" Jaime asked.
"No, and it vexes me, it truly does. As does Lady Lysa's actions."
"You surely don't believe…"
"A wife steals off in the middle of the night and before her husband has been given the burial rights? Tell me that's not strange, Ser Barristan?" Varys asked.
"Mayhap she fears for her own life, for the life of her son," he stated.
"Mayhap, or mayhap she fears something else, alas for now we know not." Varys sounded almost upset and Jaime was sure it was not over Lord Jon's death that was exactly the reason, not that he didn't wish the man lived still, but Jaime was sure it was the lack of knowledge that was truly fuelling Varys' upset.
"His grace?" Barristan asked.
"Ser Arthur and Sandor are ever vigilant, Ser Barristan. He, the Brotherhood that our king surrounds himself with and the wolves, I doubt there is a man more protected in the Seven Kingdoms."
"And our plans?" he asked.
"Will undergo some changes no doubt, but remain in place."
"Even without Lord Jon?" Barristan asked while shaking his head.
"Even without any of us, Ser Barristan. As long as the king lives, then the plans remain the same."
They went their separate ways a few moments later, each of them with much to think on. Varys set his little birds to task and both he and Barristan did as they had been, while all three of them now eagerly awaited the king's arrival. Jaime wasn't there when it came, he was on duty outside his sister's rooms and so he couldn't be there to see the king greeted. He was there when he arrived in the Throne Room to greet Robert Baratheon though and he was happy both to see him safe and to see the resolve in his eyes as he looked his way. Happier still to see Arthur and Sandor by his side.
Casterly Rock 298 AC.
Tywin Lannister.
He read the raven scroll and almost smiled, almost. The man who'd taken what should have been his position at court was dead. Jon Arryn was a pompous and stupid old man who should have confined himself to the Eyrie. His greatest achievement was in fostering Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark and it had led him to an office that he was ill-suited for and one that was far above his station. Tywin mourned him not and in truth, he cared not that he was dead. Other than what this meant to him and his that was.
Taking a seat and ignoring his other missives, for now, he began to consider just exactly what this meant. He'd expected more than one raven if he was being honest with himself. The first to tell him this news and the second to offer him the role of Hand of the King. That the second raven had not arrived was not something that disturbed him too much as of yet. Robert Baratheon was a weak fool who relied far too much on his emotions. He'd mourn the man, seek to honor him though he deserved it not, and then and only then would he think on the realm.
For Tywin, that was not a luxury he had. He, unlike the king, thought about the realm constantly. Like an ever-changing game of Cyvasse, he watched the pieces move, moved some of them himself, and always, always, kept his eye on the board. Only a fool thought that the game of thrones was ever truly won. The game never ended, and once you knew that, then you ensured that you never lost it. Jon Arryn's death was yet another move in the great game and so as he sat back in his chair, Tywin closed his eyes and looked at the board once more.
He found that not much changed with the death of the falcon. In King's Landing, he'd soon be the one who made the decisions and around the realm, few would care or dare to challenge him. The North would mourn the fallen lord, Eddard Stark would be much like Robert Baratheon and allow his memories of the man to be what guided him. Like mewling women, both of them would be lost to their grief and so neither of them were truly players in the great game. In the Stormlands, Renly Baratheon would be biting his pillow, while in the Riverlands, Hoster Tully would soon breathe his last. Tywin were he the type of man to find such things amusing, would certainly find it so when thinking of both Hoster and Jon Arryn no longer being in the world while he breathed still.
"The fathers of the rebellion indeed," Tywin said under his breath.
With Hoster soon to depart from this world, it would fall to his weak son to rule in his stead and that would make the Riverlands an even lesser region than they already were. No, any threat to his rule would not come from the old alliance, instead, it would come from a newer one. Dorne had remained far too quiet and he knew too little in regards to Prince Doran's mind. Olenna Tyrell still sought what she had always sought and yet there were opportunities there for him too. By taking one, he'd remove the threat of the other. Which left only the dragons in Essos and the Vale to worry about.
He'd heard little about either Viserys or Daenerys Targaryen. Word of both had simply stopped coming and had vexed him so much that he'd sent people to seek it out. None of whom had brought him anything of note. It was as if the last two Targaryens had just ceased to exist. Their whereabouts were unknown and the unknown always gave Tywin pause. Yet as he closed his eyes and looked to the board once more, he saw no path to the Iron Throne for the Dragons and no way they could threaten him or his. Instead, he saw a wolf howl loudly on a mountaintop and it forced his eyes to open.
"Jon Snow," he muttered.
By law and by right, Robert Arryn would be the Lord of the Vale and Warden of the East, and the boy was weak and hid under his mother's skirts. Were it not for his sister and her husband, then the Vale too would be an irrelevance. Without Jon Arryn to guide it, politically, militarily, and economically, it would lose all the influence it had gained in time. Even the famed Knights of the Vale would be lesser with Robert Arryn as their liege. And yet, something felt off in Tywin's mind. Some correspondence that he was sure he'd read and dismissed at the time, was now pressing down on his mind.
Rising from his chair, he began to open the drawers of his table. It took him some time to find it, but when he did it took him aback. The Vale had entered into a trading agreement with a cheesemonger in Pentos named Illyrio Mopatis. Rooting through his drawers, he finally came to the books and took out two. One on the North and the other on the Vale. He glanced at the figures written down on the pages and then he searched for his notes on both.
The North rises as the increased coin from its deal with the Cheesemonger is put to use.
Keeps, arms, and armor, horses. An Army?
They waste their money on fanciful ideas and are still the savages they've always been.
Would that they had a more capable lord than Eddard Stark, for if these numbers are true…..
Tywin reached out to the large jug on his table and poured himself a mug of water, drinking it down in one swallow before he looked to the book on the Vale.
The Mountain Wolf. The Warrior Reborn they name him, a bastard son of Eddard Stark who's feted more than mine own.
A capable man, one who needs further watching.
What foolishness is this? What madness? Who weds a trueborn daughter to a bastard? Even one with fame and reputation?
Is there more at work than I know?
Elaena Arryn shows her worth and I curse Cersei for not bringing her to our side and wedding her to my fool of a grandson. A lady who understands trade, has there been one of such other than Olenna Tyrell in many a year?
Robert Arryn, Elaena Arryn, Jon Snow, the three together could be formidable, thanks be to the Seven for Lysa Tully.
He actually smiled, a true one and one he'd not worn in many a year. The words he read had comforted him. As long as Lysa Tully lived, Jon Snow and Elaena Arryn would hold no power in the Vale. More even than that, they'd not be allowed to be even close to the new Warden of the East. Whatever freedoms that both were allowed under Jon Arryn, they'd not be allowed under the Lady Regent and so mentally at least, Tywin removed yet another couple of pieces from the board.
The rest of the day was spent catching up on the work he'd forgone to consider matters of the realm and House Lannister. His mind had turned to matters of the West and his House, for always was his House first and foremost in his thoughts. He'd need to start looking for matches for some of his wife's family and others, matches that would bring the most gain to him and them. Tywin was not a greedy man by nature, he was no glutton for gold and power, he had no need to be when he had much of both. No, he'd share out the one and by doing so he'd increase the other.
With his work done, he readied for his evening meal and almost chuckled that he'd missed his lunch once again. A good day for him was one when he never even thought of his appetite and feeding his belly, as it showed that he'd been productive once more. Kevan, Genna and her fool of a husband, his niece Joy Hill and his nephews Martyn and Willem were all the family that was present for the meal that night and he was glad of how few there were there. Family was important to him of course, but at times when looking at them, it would be hard to hide how disappointed in some of them he was. Harder still to not let his mind wander on how best they could be put to use to ensure his legacy was the one he wished it to be.
"A good day, brother?" Kevan asked as Tywin sipped on his wine and ate his meat.
"A very good day, Kevan," he replied.
Little did he know just how bad the next day was to be and when the raven arrived that bore the news, Tywin was wroth. He sent for his brother and sister and was staring out the window at the Sunset Sea when they arrived.
"Brother?"
"Tywin?" Genna asked worriedly.
"Stark, he's naming Eddard Stark as Hand of the King," he said and when he turned to face them both it was with his green eyes blazing.
This slight would not go unanswered, of that, he was resolved. As he took his seat and made plans, he sighed, the great game had changed once more.
Highgarden 298 AC.
Olenna Tyrell.
She looked over the words once more, almost unable to believe them and barely able to do as she must. Olenna had no real dealings with Jon Arryn, no true feelings for the man, and she mourned him not. Yet the death shocked her still and so it took her a moment longer to move past what it meant to others and onto what it meant for her. Given his age, the death shouldn't be a surprise and yet it was. Her last reports had named Jon Arryn to be in good health, much to her chagrin, and she'd not even heard a single word of his sickness before he had already passed.
Placing the scroll on the table, she sat back in her chair and thought firstly about what this meant for the realm. His son and heir would rule the Vale in his name and that made them a much weaker and less dangerous threat to her plans now. Olenna had worried that in marrying his daughter to Eddard Stark's bastard son and given the reputation the young man had garnered for himself, Jon Arryn had mayhap planned to name Elaena Arryn as his heir. So she was greatly relieved that was no longer an option. Robert Arryn and Lysa Tully were easy enough to manage and navigate around and so it left the Lions as her only true threat. Tywin would be named Hand of the King and despite their animus, the Old Lion was no fool. So whatever reason it was that Jon Arryn had used to deny them a betrothal with the crown prince, it was no longer something that Olenna needed to worry about.
She'd actually expected the match to be made by now as there was no one other than Margaery who was suited to be the future queen. Eddard Stark and Jon Arryn had both unknowingly gifted her boons in their choices for their daughter's hands. As with them unwed, it would be to the Vale or mayhap to the North that Robert Baratheon looked. When no offer came, Olenna at first feared it was Robert Baratheon's own pride that was the reason for such. Over time though she'd become more certain it was Jon Arryn who held things up in this regard. Why that was, she knew not, but his death changed things for the better.
Certain that she now had the right of things, Olenna called for one of the servants and asked her to both fetch her some luncheon and to find her grandson. Willas was much like her and Margaery and he had a mind for politics that she enjoyed picking from time to time. A conversation with him would show her if she'd taken the wrong end of the stick here, not that she believed she had. The luncheon arrived before her grandson did and it annoyed her a little. Though seeing him move across the room more hurriedly than usual, and hearing the sound of the cane hitting the ground, quickly removed her annoyance.
"Jon Arryn is dead," she said as soon as he'd taken his seat.
"Foul play or old age?" Willas asked and Olenna somehow resisted the urge to smile, as his thoughts mirrored her own already.
"There is no reason for it to be foul play, his age was bound to be his undoing as it was and as far as we're aware, there are none with any reason to see him dead. Though the suddenness of the death does give me some pause."
"Our reports told no tales of illness, grandmother," Willas said doubtfully.
"True, but at our age, such things can come quickly." she replied to a worried look "Don't look at me that way, my time is far from done."
"Thanks be to the Seven," Willas said and that did at least gain him a smile from her.
She gave him time to consider things and was just about to speak when Willas himself did. Once again her grandson showed that his mind worked in the same way that her own did.
"Tywin is to be Hand then. Which should mean an offer most soon should it not?"
"It should."
"Should we travel to King's Landing? Offer our respects?"
Olenna considered his words carefully and was of two minds on what to do, only for Willas to offer up some clarity.
"King Robert would most likely suggest a tourney in honor of Lord Jon, should he do so then we'd be obliged to attend, but if he does not, then our attendance may not be welcome."
"Indeed. We should wait and see, Willas. Have the boat and the ship on standby just to be ready. If word comes, then we'll take the Mander and sail from Oldtown. Your sister, where is she?"
"Margaery went hawking today. Garlan and Leonette are with her."
"I'll speak to her upon her return. Should we need to travel, then it is imperative she is ready for whatever is to come."
"It's to be Lord Robert in the Vale?"
"It is," she said and saw Willas' relief written all over his face.
She, her grandson, and her granddaughter had held many discussions on the makeup of the realm. They'd spoken of the Starks, the Arryns, Martells, and Lannisters. Of the Baratheons and even of the Targaryens. With Loras squired to Renly Baratheon, Olenna had hoped it would gain them some favor with the king, yet it seemingly did not. Now though she began to think that she'd been right in arranging that particular move in the game all those years ago.
"We should send word to Loras too, have him speak to Renly and see if he can find out the king's mind on events."
"You've written the message?" Willas asked and Olenna handed him the scroll "I'll see Lomys sends it immediately."
"Your father?" she asked.
"Will return on the morrow."
"Good, a night without his silly questions will be most welcome," she said and saw Willas' smirk as he rose to his feet.
"We're close, grandmother, so very close."
"Growing Strong."
"Growing Strong, grandmother."
Within a few days, things had turned and not for the better. It wasn't to be Tywin Lannister who was to be named Hand of the King and Olenna could have kicked herself for not figuring out who the king would turn to. She didn't even have to consider whether or not Eddard Stark would accept, for the man was Robert Baratheon's closest and truest friend and there was no doubt in her mind that he'd not turn him down.
Unlike Tywin Lannister, Eddard Stark was no player of the game and he'd not be forceful in pushing a match forward. Her words would fall on deaf ears with the new Hand of the King and as close as she felt to getting all she'd wished for, she now felt as far from it as ever. It made her even ruder and far more irritable than usual and Mace of course picked the very worst time to test her with his uselessness. Watching her scolded son slink away, Olenna felt no sympathy for him.
Other than the raven from Loras, the news had completely changed the mood that had been present just a day earlier. The thoughts of a tourney to welcome the new Hand of the King were the only positive that Olenna had found in Eddard Stark's appointment. Knowing what it was she needed to do, she made her way to her granddaughter's room and was unsurprised to find Margaery awake and reading when she got there.
"Grandmother?" Margaery asked when Olenna entered the room.
"We must speak child, you and I shall soon be going on a little journey."
"King's Landing and the tourney?" Margaery asked.
"Indeed. You must shine my rose, you must shine as you've never shone before. For I intend you to wrap the lion tightly in your vines and while you may not be named as Queen of Love and Beauty, lest Loras was the one to win. Before we leave I'll see you named as a princess and future queen."
"I'll be ready, grandmother."
"I know you will, Sweetling," she said as Margaery kissed her cheek.
The Eyrie 298 AC.
Lysa Arryn.
Her fingers she'd found were poor substitutes for Petyr's touch. The relief they brought her was but a fleeing thing and her falls were quiet ones rather than the loud screams of pleasure her love would wring from her body. That they were so far from each other was a wound to her heart and yet she knew it must be so. King's Landing was not the place for her and in order to sell the lie she needed to, it was in the Eyrie she must be when the letter was sent.
She was free though, free of her horror of a husband and free to be wed to the man she loved. All it had taken was a few drops of the Tears into his nightly drink and the illness had then come upon him as quickly as Petyr said it would. Lysa would not lie and say she took no joy in seeing Jon Arryn wither and fade away. Each moment of his suffering was a boon to her spirit and payback for six and ten years of being wed to and forced to lay with a man older even than her father was.
Now that he was gone, her precious son was far out of his, his whore of a daughter, and the bastard's reach. He'd not be fostering with Jon Snow and Elaena Arryn, he'd not be close to them so some accident could befall him and take him from this world. Sweetrobin would grow to be the Lord of the Eyrie and the Warden of the East as was his right and she'd not allow a bastard and his whore of a wife to take what rightfully belong to her son. Not now, not ever.
"He wishes to foster him, Petyr. To send him to Runestone so he can be close to his whore of a daughter and her bastard husband. Waymar Royce will squire him, he says, as if I wish for such a thing for my son."
"He cannot, he must not," Petyr said and Lysa welcomed and very much did not, the worry in his voice.
"Petyr?"
"I fear for Sweetrobin's very life, my love. Should some accident befall him…"
"They wouldn't, they couldn't…"
"Bastards are ever tricksy and Jon Snow is known to ride out and fight against the Mountain Tribes is he not?"
"He is."
"And was Sweetrobin to be with him on one of these rides, were he to fall…"
"Then Elaena would be the heir." her words showed her horror at the thought.
"And Jon Snow would effectively rule the Vale in her name."
"What am I to do, Petyr? You'll help me, won't you? You'll help me keep my son safe, our son safe…"
"You can count on me, my love."
Where he'd found the poison, she knew not, but she welcomed it, if not that it had to be her to deliver it to her husband. Not that she cared about it being her hand that brought about his death, that part actually excited her somewhat, more that she worried she'd be found out. Again though it was her love's words that gave her the courage she sometimes lacked. Her smart and clever and so very brave love, who would soon be her husband by law and not just the husband of her heart.
"It's untraceable, Lysa, besides I've left enough crumbs for Pycelle to think if anyone is to blame it's the Lannisters and he is ever their creature."
"Why the Lannisters, Petyr?"
"They are the true threat to Sweetrobin, my love. Remember the Reynes and the Tarbecks, remember the Targaryen children."
She still shuddered to think of it. The idea of what someone like Tywin Lannister would do to her precious little boy. Thoughts of the monsters he'd unleash upon her and Sweetrobin should he ever see her as a threat or truly look her way had filled her head. Those thoughts had made her even more eager to send the letter she'd just finished writing. With Eddard Stark as Hand of the King, he'd see the Lannisters fall from grace because of Jon's death. All he needed was a little nudge in that direction and as Lysa blew on the parchment and watched the ink dry, she knew she'd nudged him as Petyr had suggested.
Without her love, she'd be lost. She'd mourn her son after he'd been killed by those who wished him harm, then be cast out of her home by an ungrateful little girl who had never known her place. The six and ten years of suffering she'd undergone would all be for naught. That was not a life that she was willing to accept. For she feared it was not a life that Petyr would and without him, then she may as well throw herself from the Moon Door.
Calling for the rider that she'd send to Winterfell, Lysa sealed the letter and readied the pouch full of coins. He'd arrive before the king if he caught the ship and he'd be well paid for the journey and the delivery of the letter. Lysa welcomed that he was a man that Petyr trusted as he was far more knowledgeable in such things than she was. Hearing the knock on the door, she bid the man to enter, and less than a few moments later she was alone once more. Once he was gone, she rose to her feet and made her way from her solar.
Her footsteps took her to Sweetrobin's room and she nodded at the two guards she'd placed on his door. Not for the first time in these last few years, her son had the temerity to call out her actions and to attempt to deny her authority. He'd wished to stay in King's Landing to both pay his respects to the man he thought was his father and to wait for his half-sister to arrive. Something that Lysa wouldn't allow and which he'd not taken well. They'd argued, fought, and had barely spoken since they'd arrived at the Eyrie and she'd been forced to confine him to his rooms for his own good. Entering those rooms now, she hoped he'd seen some sense.
"Sweetling, it's your mother." she called out to no reply "Sweetrobin, Sweetrobin…"
At first, she believed him to be asleep and so she moved to his bed only to find it wasn't him under the covers. Moving the pillows aside, she cried out for her son, again and again, but there was no reply.
"Guards! Guards!"
She barely heard the sound of them running into the room, barely noticed them when they arrived. Had one of them not placed his hand on her shoulder, she'd not have been able to turn from the empty bed and look at his face.
"My son, where is my son?"
"He never left, my lady, I swear it."
"THEN WHERE IS HE!" she screamed.
More and more of the household guard were called and the room was searched thoroughly. There was no sign of her son anywhere and Lysa was wrought with the guards, with those who hadn't yet found him, and with everyone but herself. It took more than a few hours to find that it wasn't only Sweetrobin who had disappeared without a trace. Maester Colemon, some of the guards that she had never truly liked nor trusted, and one or two of the servants that she couldn't put faces to the names, all were nowhere to be seen.
By the time she'd sent word to Sky, Snow and Stone it was too late. The party containing her son had already traveled through each of the waycastles and though she asked for men to be sent out to find them, she feared they'd have no success. Lysa was beside herself with worry. All her fears for her son were now filling her thoughts and the one comfort she had was that Elaena had traveled to King's Landing with Jon Snow and so was not in the Vale.
Knowing not what to do, she did the only thing she could. The ravens were sent by one of Maester Colemon's acolytes and Lysa stood there watching as he did so. She'd seen them sent to the Gates of the Moon, Runestone, and to every keep in the Vale naming those with her son as kidnappers and bidding them be taken prisoner and her son to be rescued from them and brought back to his mother who loved him so. Once they were gone, the last one she sent to Petyr in King's Landing, for she needed his counsel and his touch even more now.
"Come back to me, my love," she whispered to the wind as the raven flew.
King's Landing 298 AC.
Robert Baratheon.
Grief was not a new feeling for him, though it was one he liked not. Three times in his life he'd known it and each time had hurt just as much as the other. Firstly when his parents died, then with Lyanna, and now with Jon Arryn. Unlike the apathy that his life had become, something only occasionally that he was removed from, this was a true and terrible feeling. One where drink, women, hunting, or any other diversion that he would use to make his days more tolerable wouldn't bring him the desired effect.
He'd stood vigil over the body himself, or had tried to. In the end, he'd actually sat a vigil as his days of being able to stand for hours on end were long gone. Robert had done so alone too, he'd wished it to be just him and Jon and so it had been. Actually, that was a lie, he wished one other had been there with him as he said his goodbyes to the only father he'd truly ever known. Ned though was far away and not by his side as he was meant to be, and so mayhap that was why the idea came to him. Or mayhap it was that he simply needed someone he could trust to serve by his side and to not be as surrounded by Lannisters and lickspittles as he now was.
Ned would gainsay him, he knew it and almost welcomed it. His brother by choice was one of the few people who he'd allow to do so and soon enough the thoughts of seeing him again had chased some of the grief away. As had the thoughts of seeing his boy and it had been that which had given him the strength to rise most mornings and to go about his daily work, or as much of it as he would ever actually do himself. That and the chance to annoy his wife somewhat. Something that he did often, though usually without trying, and something that Jon's death had put him in a mood to do far more.
Normally, Robert would prefer a quiet life and wish not to hear Cersei use that tongue of hers in his presence. While he wasn't certain why now he actually went out of his way to do so, were he to be pressed for a reason, then he'd name it because of Lysa Tully's actions. The woman had shamed Jon by not mourning him publicly and Robert had been wroth when he'd found out that she'd taken her son and ran back to the Vale. Littlefinger bearing the brunt of that wrath as it had been he who'd brought him the news.
"What do you mean she's gone?" he shouted angrily.
"I dropped by her rooms this morn, your grace, to pay my respects. Only to find that Lady Lysa, young Robert, and the vast majority of the household had departed during the night. It was most strange."
"Strange! Strange! This is more than strange! This is a bloody disgrace!" he shouted "What has gotten into that fool of a woman's head. To treat Jon so, to shame him so."
"Lady Lysa can oft be a confusing woman," Littlefinger said in that weasel-like way of his.
"Confusing! The silly woman lost her wits years ago, I should demand her return, remove her from her role in the Vale."
"Your grace, think of…"
"Piss on that. I'd not do so, though not for her." he said as he moved to the jug of wine "See word is sent to her, make it clear she's earned my displeasure, and have Varys set his little birds to task to make up some more convenient truth for why she's left."
"Varys is nowhere to be found, your grace."
"Ah, that's right, never mind," he said as he poured himself a mug of wine and drained it down in one go.
He could still recollect the annoyance he felt and yet only that much of the conversation. There had been more, Littlefinger had spouted some nonsense about Lysa Tully's reason for leaving mayhap being tied down to worries for her son and her own safety. He'd suggested that given the suddenness of Jon's death that foul play could not be ruled out, but Robert had barely heard his words. Besides, the first thing he'd done was to check if there had been more at play in his foster father's death than simply Jon's age. Pycelle had confirmed that there had not been.
The knock on the door took him from his thoughts and from drifting into the melancholy that was his truest friend these past few days. Ser Barristan walked in and handed him the note himself and Robert soon found a smile coming to his face at the words he read.
"They're in the keep?" he asked.
"They are your grace. Ser Jon has taken Lady Elaena to be settled before they both come to greet you."
"She's with child you know." he said as he smiled "Jon was as happy as I'd known him when he returned from the Vale. He worried given her mother's loss of course, but the thoughts of being a grandfather were ones that he most welcomed."
"He did, your grace."
"She looks well, Jon's girl?"
"Grieving but healthy, your grace," Barristan replied.
"And Ser Jon?"
"Is her rock, your grace," Barristan said firmly.
The words pleased him greatly. Ned's lad was as firm and resolute as his father and his honor would not allow him to stray as Robert's own desires would oft force him to. For Jon's daughter he'd not accept any man doing so, he'd not see his foster father's girl shamed and with Ser Jon, he'd not need worry that she would be.
"Arrange the Throne Room, Ser Barristan, I suppose you must inform the queen."
"Your grace," Barristan said with a bow of his head.
"Tell the Kingslayer to ensure his sister keeps that tongue of hers in her mouth, Ser. I'll have none of her poisoned words spoken to Jon's girl."
"Of course, your grace."
He waited until the knight left the room and then Robert finished his wine. The resolve he'd been lacking other than with his choice regarding Ned was now back and he welcomed it. Robert was right, what he wished to do was right, it would be what Jon would have wanted and in this, he'd make him proud, he knew he would. Rising to his feet, he moved to ready for the day ahead and to see that Jon's girl and Ned's lad were welcomed how they deserved to be.
King's Landing 298 AC.
Varys.
He was scrambling, out of the loop, caught unawares and it annoyed him greatly. Never had he even considered it a possibility and now he must. So he'd departed from the Vale far more quickly than he'd expected, had hurried back to King's Landing, and had immediately set himself and his little birds to task. Jon Arryn had shown no sign of illness, was as fit and healthy as a man half his age and had much to live for. Yet, in a matter of days, he'd simply wasted away and Varys was not the only one to suspect foul play as his king did so too.
So he'd spoken to Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime as soon as he was able to. They'd told him more of the story of Lord Jon's death and it had lined up with all he'd heard thus far. Lysa Tully's departure was suspect, both in its suddenness and simply in the fact that she felt a need to depart at all. That she'd not stay for the service that was to be held in Lord Jon's memory was not something that made the lady look the grieving wife she should be.
After speaking to the two knights, it took him far too long to make it to Pycelle's rooms and to find his notes on the examination of Lord Jon's body. Reading them, Varys would say that at first glance they seemed to tell the story of a man whose age had finally caught up with him. Yet there were omissions, errors, and things left unsaid too. Were he a man who bought Pycelle's mummery, then these would be put down to that, but he knew the truth of the Grandmaester and the words in his journal about his work on Lord Jon, did not quite add up.
Knowing what he needed to do, and hating the thought of it, Varys arranged to bump into Littlefinger on one of the man's visits to the Red Keep. He had to hide for more than an hour and closer to two just so their encounter would seem fortuitous and not something that he'd planned and yet in truth, he wasn't certain that the man wasn't aware of his mummer's farce in this regard. Still, needs must and he smiled a false smile as he strolled towards the Master of Coin.
"Lord Varys."
"Lord Baelish."
"Much happened while you were away it seems. For once I may be more aware of events than even you." Littlefinger mocked and Varys looked at him and tittered, the game was something that both of them always played.
"Pray enlighten me, my lord. Though I doubt with any event your knowledge surpasses mine own. Mayhap in timing though, or in the mind of a woman would you be my superior." he said as Littlefinger tried and failed not to bristle at his words.
"His grace was most wrought with the Lady of the Vale, most wrought indeed. His grief was a thing to behold and her actions did not find favor in his eyes."
"Oh come now, Lord Baelish, surely you can do better than that. I need not my little birds to tell me that his grace grieved or that he was angered by the lady's absence. A blind man or a fool would know such and you and I are neither one nor the other."
"True, but that is the extent of my knowledge in this regard, so mayhap you spoke true words when speaking on your own." Littlefinger mocked once more and Varys was certain then that in this regard, Littlefinger was enjoying the lie he uttered.
"Then until the Small Council is convened," he said with a small bow of his head.
"My lord," Littlefinger said and he then walked away leaving Varys annoyed and no further along in his investigation.
It took him four more days to find anything useful and even then it was less about the cause of Lord Jon's death and whether or not it was natural and more about other strange and perplexing actions surrounding it. Sitting in his chambers, Varys looked at the notes from his little birds and tried to piece the timeline in his head. He hoped to make sense of each of the songs and yet he feared that he'd have no true answers when the king arrived.
"Lysa was wrought about the fostering."
"Colemon was sent back to the Vale."
"The Illness was quick and sudden."
"Pycelle's examination was lacking."
"Littlefinger was most cheerful."
"The queen mourns him not and is angered by the king's plans for his replacement."
"Young Lord Robert fought with his mother."
He spoke the words aloud and while they made sense to him, they didn't bring him any closer to the truth. That didn't come until he received news that the king's ship had been spotted in Blackwater Bay a few days later.
While he couldn't be certain, and he had no proof, nor was likely to find any, he believed he knew what had happened and why. It was time to tell the King some home truths about the nature of Lady Lysa and Littlefinger's relationship and who he now believed was Robert Arryn's true father. Time to tell him that he believed that the lady and her lover were behind Lord Jon's death and that it was with poison that they took his life. Firstly though he had to make his way to the Throne Room and be there when the false king and queen greeted the true ones.
The great and the good had come to witness the spectacle. Other than blood or a wedding, they sought their entertainment wherever they could find it and they'd take it from a grieving girl and a king who both mourned the same man's loss. Varys took his place across from Littlefinger so that he could both see the man and witness Ser Jon and Lady's arrival in the Throne Room. Robert and Cersei arrived a moment after he did and took their places on the Iron Throne and the seat placed beside it. Ser Jaime, Ser Barristan, and the other Kingsguard were all present as they did so.
Prince Joffrey stood with a half-smirk on his face. The cruel boy was amused at something or other and Varys wondered if he'd be fool enough to open his mouth and risk his father's wrath this day. Prince Tommen and Princess Myrcella both wore looks that showed that, unlike their brother, they understood the sombreness of the occasion. The sounds of the commotion at the doors were the sign that Varys had been waiting for and his eyes looked for and sought his king and his queen. Ser Jon seemed resolved and was concerned only for the woman by his side, while Lady Elaena looked saddened but was bearing up well, all things taken into account.
"Lady Elaena and Ser Jon Arryn." the herald announced and the Throne Room hushed as they both moved forward to stand in front of the king.
Ser Arthur and Sandor Clegane stood resolutely behind them both and Varys was pleased to see that neither seemed concerned or perturbed. He saw it when the Sword of the Morning offered Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime a small nod of his head. The gesture would have to suffice for now as words couldn't be spoken. Around the Throne Room, whispers regarding the lady's bearing and the fact that she was with child had begun, and then there was silence when Robert Baratheon raised his hand.
"Lady Elaena, Ser Jon, would that it was under different circumstances that we were welcoming you into our presence again. Alas, the reason for your return to court is far from pleasant. On behalf of her grace and House Baratheon, I offer my deepest sympathies to you, Lady Elaena. Your father was a great man and he will be missed and mourned by all." Robert said and for one of the few times that Varys could remember, he actually sounded kingly.
"I thank you for your sympathies, your grace, and offer up mine own to you too. No one in the Realm is unaware of how high my father was held in your regard, nor how high he held you in his own, your grace." Lady Elaena said and it brought a smile to Robert's face to hear the words.
"We'll observe a week's mourning now that you've arrived, Lady Elaena. Hold a service in the Great Sept so the proper respect can be paid to your father."
"I thank you, your grace, truly." Elaena Arryn said softly.
"Ser Jon, your king bids you step forward," Robert said surprising one and all.
"Your grace."
"Kneel, Ser Jon," Robert said rising to his feet and moving to place a hand on Ser Jon's shoulder.
Varys looked to Lady Elaena, to Ser Arthur, Sandor, the Queen, and Sers Barristan and Jaime, and not one of them seemed to know what was on Robert's mind. Glancing at Littlefinger, it seemed he did and he liked it not. Though given the words that were spoken and what Varys now believed regarding the Mockingbird, he could well understand why.
"Lord Robert Arryn is still but a boy, Ser Jon, and I know in time that his father had wished him to learn by your and Ser Waymar's sides, but until that time comes, he cannot be my Warden of the East." Robert said to gasps "So until he comes of age, Ser Jon Arryn, I would name you as Warden of the East and Lord Protector of the Vale."
"I…I…accept with great humility, your grace." Ser Jon said and Robert glared at those who'd not begun to clap, making sure they did so no eagerly and enthusiastically.
"The Warden of the East and Lord Protector of the Vale." Robert's words rang around the room and Varys smiled to himself when he saw Littlefinger's face and realized just what it was that the false king had done.
Any doubts they had about the Vale's loyalty with the loss of Jon Arryn were now gone and some of the worst thoughts he'd had about Robert Arryn's fate were now lessened. In one stroke, Robert Baratheon had sealed his doom and Varys wondered if somewhere in the seven heavens, Jon Arryn was laughing loudly.
A/N: Thanks to all who've read and reviewed. Up Next. Varys and Jon speak on the truth of Robert Arryn's parentage, a service is held for Jon Arryn and Robert Baratheon departs on a trip to Winterfell. Upon arriving back in the Vale, Jon, Arthur, and Sandor along with the Brotherhood are forced to launch a rescue mission and as Ned Stark deals with his own grief a letter arrives naming Jon Arryn's murderers.
For those following my other fics, My Name is Daemon and The Dark Prince are up next.
Daryl Dixon: So glad you liked it.
Guest: How? They may have been a spark but the flame was Aerys' madness and Brandon Stark's recklessness. Right or wrong, you don't demand the Crown Prince comes out and dies, that's signing a death warrant. Even if you go with the idea that Rhaegar kidnapped Lyanna or whatever version of their story that you believe (all of which are true until GRRM gives us something different) a broken betrothal does not lead to a war of the scale the rebellion turned into. We know this because we literally have an example of it within the history, Prince Duncan's broken betrothal to Lyonel Baratheon's daughter. So, whatever your take on Rhaegar/Lyanna, they were a spark, not a flame, and given how Ned Stark thinks of Rhaegar, then it's more than likely they were a love affair of some sort. Can you name them as reckless, naïve, stupid, maybe, but to name them as responsible for the war is falsity in my mind.
Ffloverhp: Thanks so much, glad you liked it.
J: I thought long and hard about Jon A's fate but he really is the catalyst and the more I thought about it the more it becomes almost inevitable. Especially considering it's Lysa who kills him. That was very much the image I wanted to put across with Arya and having Sansa change the name just shows how far she's come.
The Hightowers are yes. Though under Lord Leyton they suffer somewhat politically. What Olenna has that they do not or to be more precise what she manages that they do not is to combine all the attributes into one. She's as rich as they are, almost as strong militarily and she has the familial connections, being a Redwyne and with her daughter married to Paxter, others too. So in a way, it's sort of like the Starks and the Boltons in the North. The Starks would be more powerful, but the Boltons have the marriage connections and that can never be underestimated. The biggest issue with the Hightowers is the Dance though, does any Targ ever wish them to be too powerful after that?
Dunk: Yes, it's pretty much inevitable for Jon A to die unless he gets rid of Lysa early on. She's too close to him to stop her really and because the circle is so small in the plotting of his death, it's so much harder to prevent it. What is easier, is somewhat figuring it out which Varys, Daeron, and others are sort of doing here. We'll find out with Ned next, the big issue with him is that Lysa's letter still arrives and as you say his honor demands things of him, though if he does go to KL it won't be without allies this time. I wanted to have a more proactive Dany, to show her with some agency of her own far earlier here, she's grown and been allowed to and so I wanted that to come across. Hope this answers what was shocking about Robert's proclamation.
Rhatch: That's exactly my own thoughts. Ned's feelings toward Rhaegar make no sense if the man raped and kidnapped his sister, there's no bitterness there, no anger. Which shows there is more to things than meets the eye. You're right about Littlefinger, though Lysa can channel her own danger as well. Ned is in a tricky position, it is hard to turn down the offer politically, he does know who'll take it if he does and Lysa's letter and Jon Arryn's death play their part too. I never truly blamed him for taking the Hand position, though betrothing Sansa to Joff is not something that I let him off easily for.
Keb: You got it almost spot on, though it's more than just Warden.
KaTee: It was more the fostering and Littlefinger whispering in her ear. I think he did so in canon too, there it was suggested that Sweetrobin be fostered with Tywin and you can only imagine what LF said about that. Added to promises of marrying her and well, Jon A was a walking dead man.
Guest: It balances out all the Stark Wank.
Dorodrigo: So very glad you enjoyed it.
CynicArchon: and the cookie goes to, well done, you nailed it.
Tempted by Joy. Robert definitely pushed the narrative and I've no doubt that originally Ned, Brandon, and Benjen along with their father all believed that to be the case. Ned's thoughts though just don't make sense if it's true. No way he thinks of Rhaegar and the first thought he doesn't come to is, Rapist Bastard if that was what happened. Human nature wouldn't work that way and even when Robert brings it up when he visits the crypts when he comes to WF, you'd expect more out of Ned there when Robert speaks of killing Rhaegar every night, and again it's just not, there is no bitterness really. I do though like the idea that because GRRM is so slow and so we don't have a definitive, it allows for a version of either a kidnapping or a rescue to be what happened. Though on the flip side of that, GRRM is so damn slow as you say and we're never getting this answered.
Crying out Loud. Very well said, so much so that I've very little to add as you've done such a great job of explaining things.
There are countless Pro Stark stories out there and numerous ones that paint a version of Rhaegar and Lyanna that is different from the ones I've used in my stories thus far. One thing that people don't seem to understand is that there are two sides to a story and while the Pro Stark and Anti Targ stories paint Rhaegar/Lyanna one way, of course, the other side would need to be told too. Someone who is Pro Targ and I don't just mean the writer of the fic, but the characters within that fic will always have a more favorable view of Rhaegar and Lyanna than someone who is not. So Arthur Dayne was he to live or Barristan and even Jaime Lannister in their actual povs, show that they disbelieve the stories that are told about their prince and even though they don't know exactly what happened, they don't believe Robert's version of it.
I could write an anti-Rhaegar/Lyanna fic and one day I'll do so, but for now, I find more fertile ground in writing ones that paint them in the light I actually believe them to be. I'll only ever write a Jon as the main character and as a Targ because that's who he is, and we have the show to paint him as more of a wolf than a dragon, and I ain't going there after that lol. But I don't think anyone who reads my fics is surprised by which way they lean on the Pro Targ bandwagon and after 20 odd chapters, to be surprised that this is how this went is a bit mind-blowing as it literally is there right from the very beginning.
Anyway, thanks for your post and you're better at clarifying things than me, it's most welcome.
14omega: Given he has options here that he didn't have in canon and Lysa doing as she did and not sticking around to mourn Jon A, Robert was always going to do something like this.
Seanagan: I did consider it with Jon A and the idea of him being around to face off against Robert is such an interesting one, but in the end, it really boiled down to who was actually responsible for his death. If it was the Lannisters or someone else, then he could be saved by Varys or Jon or someone, but it being his own wife, it just doesn't allow it.
I do get you about the deaths and know that I agonize over each and every single one of them. In TDC once you get to the main battle, it, unfortunately, means that characters realistically have to die as much as you want them all to make it out alive. Yet for each and every single one of them, I argued with myself and fought before finally saving some and not others. Here, I've not really decided yet so all fates are open and all I can say is I won't go full bloodthirsty or kill characters off for shock value or to garner an emotional response. There will be deaths, but some characters are untouchable and without spoiling too much, Viserys will have a much better fate here.
Ghost will be by Jon's side more and more here, Winter and Frost will at times be by Elaena's side and Ghost as he grows will cling more to Jon. I can't not have him in a fic and as you say without a dragon (though one is coming, just not to play a true part in the war) that's even more needed.
My writing process is what led to so many fics at once, that and the lockdown. But in order not to get writer's block, I've found that jumping from fic to fic once I do, allows for me to almost constantly write when I wish to. So far I've not gotten burned out and more than that I've still got the enthusiasm I had when I started, so for now I'm good. Hope you continue to enjoy this and the other fics.
