Jasper

Remains of the fish and crunchy bread swam in the bucket in a sea of brown and green. He groaned loudly, wiping the mess from his mouth with his long blue sleeves. It was repulsive and unlordly, but he was too sick to care wrapped in a shield of blankets. The only small mercy no one could see him in this pathetic state dressed like some old crone. As Lord of the Eyrie, he had commandeered the captain's cabin for himself. The Sea Hawk. Lord Grafton claimed it was the fastest ship in his trading fleet. The ship was misnamed, Jasper thought. The Slow Hawk would be more apt. Everything was going slowly, it seemed to him. It was torturous, the constant rocking and lurching of the waves. His migraine was fierce at just thinking of the constant movement. Jasper tightened the surrounding blankets around his shoulders, praying for sleep or land to walk on. The former was more likely.

Jasper was seasick.

It was not a pleasant experience. He wouldn't even wish it on his worst enemy. Maybe Harry. He smiled, imagining that. But knowing the blond bastard, he probably wouldn't be afflicted with this weakness. Harry would be out on the ship's deck, japing with the sailors or guardsmen, impressing them with a false smile. But Harry didn't matter. He had dealt with him and sent him back to Ironcloaks, missing an ear. I defended Arryn honor that day. Jasper thought of smiling Prince Tommen and oaths he had sworn. To protect him a ward of the Eyrie. I need to see Baelish and Stark united. How he was going to establish the relationship between Lord Baelish and Lord Stark was the question. Lord Baelish was clever and understood the motives that governed men, but Lord Stark likely didn't trust him because of his quips that aggravated men of honor.

He's a loyal friend of House Arryn. Jasper knew.

Jasper hoped he could set up a relationship between them, but if not, Lord Baelish was expendable. The position of Master of Coin had to be filled with a man that would work well with the Lord Hand. Stark and Arryn strategy needed to be aligned together. Ties that bound the old alliance had to remain strong to protect his ward from Tyrell ambition. Arryn-Stark-Tully won King Roberts rebellion. Anything that stood against it had to be removed like diseased flesh.

Only the king could remove one of his councilors, but he was confident that he could use their relationship to see him replaced. For that reason, he brought Nestor Royce with him. The man knew his sums and was qualified for the post, and the name Royce would help him with Lord Stark.

Lord Baelish would return to the Vale and he would name him Steward of the Eyrie.

Plots and plans swirled in his head as he lurched over again, feeling miserable as rain. A false alarm no vomit escaped his lips as he crawled back into bed. Jasper rubbed his temples, trying to vanquish the headache. I can't think like this and I need to think!

Two days ago he resided in Gulltown on the steady ground. Not on this floating coffin surrounded by an endless sea. Somehow I'm more of a captive here than in the Eyrie. Moonlight filtered through the window as the door creeped open. The visitor was the captains daughter. Yesterday, she removed the bucket from his room and changed his sheets like most smallfolk she did her duty. Her name escaped him. It's unimportant.

Jasper thought the night a dream when she undressed before him, standing as naked as her nameday. Hazel eyes with light brown curls down to her shoulders. In a certain light, she might even be pretty. "Milord." Her voice as soft as silk. "Do I please you?"

"This is a dream."

"I shall make it the sweetest dream you've ever had, milord."

His cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the dishonor he had a betrothed! Tis no dream. "I've never struck a woman, but take one step forward and that ends." Jasper said, eyes narrowing, meaning every word.

"Milord?" she stumbled back, surprised at his hostility.

Jasper jumped to his feet, fuming. "Was this your doing? Your fathers? Some lord? You shall give me answers or by the Seven you shall suffer my justice for your crimes."

"I-" Her voice failed her, and she looked to the ground mutely.

"I can have you flogged, you stupid girl! You should understand that." Jasper said curtly.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she collapsed on the wooden floor before him. It was unsettling and uncomfortable and his heart softened like the weak boy he was. "Stop your crying." He commanded like a lord.

She sobbed harder.

Jaspers resolved, shattered.

The boy of summer broke his restraints, and he was on the floor trying to comfort her with soothing words. "Shhh, it's okay." Jasper didn't understand a lick of how to comfort anyone. Septon Layne had taught him courtesy of a knight, Maester Arwin history and sums. Grand Uncle Brynden showed him how not to be a total little shit. No would could teach him how to handle these emotional displays. When his brother had his shaking fits or tantrums, Jasper had Maester Colemon handle it. I'll just make a mistake. He draped a blanket around her pale shoulders. Despite the puffy cheeks, she really was a pretty girl, but he had an intended. And she was far too low for him. I'm no Prince Duncan with a Jenny of Oldstones.

"You won't be flogged, but I need you to tell me the truth. I know you can do that."

She merely shook her head.

The refusal annoyed him, but he swallowed it. "If this was the foolishness of a girl, I'll forgive you. No harm has been done truly."

"Arryns always keep their word." Jasper smiled awkwardly.

The river of tears dried up. "Truly?" She sniffled. "Do you mean it, milord?"

"On my honor as an Arryn."

"It's my father." She said. "He makes me do this for any highborn guest to get extra payment." Her voice cracked with shame. "Tis cursed milord by the Seven. I know this."

"I told him not to try with you. Everyone knows of the legendary honor of Arryn, but he bid me to, and I obeyed."

"Sounds villainous." Jasper said.

"Please, milord, business has just been slow, is all." She said in defense of her father. He watched her eyes and saw some fear behind them. Heroic knights from his stories would rescue her from such a faith. Hang the rascal and send him to the Seven Hells! What a story that would be! Jasper's hands twitched for his sword. But he was a lord. Not a hero. This was little more than a distraction. The faith of princes and princesses was at stake and required his full attention. What was one woman of low birth to him? Nothing. She is absolutely nothing. Still, it tore at him. Gnawing at his heart. He needed to do something. Anything! A lord had to defend the weak and serve justice. Grand Uncle Byrnden would advise caution. Jasper thought it over. If he slays the father, what future would she hold? It would be impossible for her to captain the ship. No crew would listen to a woman. What if he took her into his household as a washerwoman? He could take her with little trouble or complaint. It was a great honor to serve in a lord's household, especially an Arryn household, he thought with pride. Men would whisper about that and that would undermine House Arryn. What did he truly know of her? This could merely be some mummery. Use his chivalry against him and place a spy in his household. People always lied and deceived him. Harry. Mother. Father. Even her name was unknown to him.

Even if I knew it, I would forget it. So many names to remember. So many faces.

The wise course was to do and say nothing, even if his heart craved action.

"So be it." Jasper said and dismissed her with a wave of his hand. "Dress and leave me. Nothing will happen to you or your father." His voice was disinterested. "And take the bucket out. It's rather full." Suddenly, he felt a little green. "And I require another. Hurry along."

A thankful nod and she left him.

The sun glared high above them as the ship was as chaotic as a battlefield. Sailors were rushing around, fulfilling their duties as they sailed into the harbor. Sigils flapped proudly on the dockyard Jasper saw A yellow tower burning on a black pile on a flame-red field, A yellow sun white crescent moon and silver star on a blue chief above a white field, A broken black wheel on a green field, Black iron studs on a bronze field bordered with runes, and A field of silver mockingbirds, on a green field. The sigils named them Grafton. Egren. Waynwood. Royce. Baelish. All the Vale Lords had arrived to welcome him to the capital.

Jasper thanked the Seven when he stepped off the floating coffin. Over time, the seasickness left him, but he never really enjoyed his time on the SeaHawk. Cramped rooms and constant interactions with the grubby captain. I should have taken his head. Instead, he wished him well and delivered his payment. Servants carried chests down the ramp as he strolled forward, Ser Marwyn Belmore to his left, and Nestor Royce to his right.

"Tis is you, my lord." Ser Egen said, dipping his head. "Ser Marq did not fib that you left Gulltown and had entered the harbor."

Ser Marq Grafton puffed up his chest wearing a pin of a bronze ship. It named him Harbormaster of Kings Landing. "Lord Arryn, allow us noble lords to accompany you to your manse. We've secured horses for you and your noble company."

"My thanks." Jasper replied politely. He shook hands with all of them, treating them with courtesy.

Ser Albar said. "Ser Marq said you were coming, but not the reason, my lord."

"To win glory in the Tourney of the Hand, of course!" Jasper laughed. "I have a princess to impress, you know." He had rehearsed that line in bed. It was best that his true reasons be masked from his vassals and men of court. No doubt Tyrell or Lannister spies would watch him. Let them see a foolish boy keen on earning glory. Though Lord Baelish knew the truth and his laughing eyes seemed amused. Soon, they would speak in private, and he would discover what had trespassed since the last correspondence.

"Let us be off, my lords. I need to feel the wind on my cheeks again. A ship pales to a horse."

"Indeed, my lord." Ser Donnel Waynwood chuckled.

Myrcella

"Check-mate!" Myrcella said, knocking over Sansas knight with her dragon. Her king's army lay destroyed and crippled save scattered remains of spearmen and infantry. Archers lay burned to a crisp. Horseman scattered. Artillery captured and abandoned. Sansa's king was likely feeling pretty poor as they led him away in chains Myrcella imagined the scene. The heartache and tragedy he felt knowing he failed. Maybe he didn't acknowledge his role and blamed his men or the gods? Imagination made the game come to life.

It was just a Cyvasse board set.

"Oh." Sansa said. "Victory is yours, I suppose. Albeit, I cannot see the importance of this game for queenship."

Myrcella rolled her eyes. "It teaches strategy. How to think." She giggled. "And if nothing else, it's a fair pastime." Uncle Tyrion had taught her the game, and she loved to play. Uncle Tyrion is far better than me. Lately, it seemed her life had become a game of cyvasse between her and Lady Margaery. She was frighteningly good and, if she were honest, better than herself. Myrcella played defensively and the Rose of Highgarden did not. They fought a campaign of tea times and social gatherings. Each bout drove her closer to despair. She rallied her ladies from the west around her and secured the Stark girls, but the Crownlanders deserted her for the Rose of Highgarden. Three days ago she was seen out riding with Lord Renly on his visit to his Baelor's Orphanage with gifts from the Reach, and they prayed with the High Septon afterwards with a dozen of the most devout. Mother should lead as the queen, but she was oddly absent. Duty fell to her. A heavy thing. Myrcella beseeched Grand Uncle Kevan and through Sansa Lord Stark for coin to launch her own mission of charity on behalf of the Crown. The crowd cheered out, "The Golden Princess!" Or they screamed. "The Golden Doe!" But it wasn't as nearly as loud as the love they held Uncle Renly or now Lady Margaery. Maybe if she held her betrothed with her, things may be different. The late Lord Hand was much beloved for his kindness and Jasper was his son.

Jasper was in the Eyrie and she had to make do with what she had.

I'm losing. Myrcella thought sullenly.

Tomorrow, father was to go on a hawking expedition and the Tyrells were joining the party chief among them Lady Margaery. Myrcella didn't understand the reason, but she knew it wasn't good for herself or Tommen. They filled her heart with unease. If Lord Stark joined them, she would feel better, but he was busy organizing the city for the tourney. She was as helpless as Sansa's king.

"Myrcella? Princess!" Sansa asked, her face etched with worry.

"Huh?" Myrcella shook her head. "I'm sorry, just lost in my thoughts."

"You seemed more than that." Sansa said. "Do you still think of Lady Margaery?"

"How can I not? She played me for a fool."

Sansa didn't look convinced. "I think you worry over not. Maybe you misremember or she misspoke?" She suggested gently.

"She knew which arm was injured. Only a schemer would know that."

Still, Sansa protested like a girl of summer. "But Lady Margaery was ever so kind, and surely not the Knight of Flowers. All the songs and tales speak of the chivalry of the Tyrells, and they were very gracious. What horrors has House Tyrell committed? I've only heard of their virtue. Is it not more likely Lady Margaery was just trying to be kind?"

Myrcella laughed. "I wish I could think that." Her voice turned serious. "You haven-"

"Yes, I've remained weary around them." Sansa smiled. "My lips remain tight, but you can't keep worrying about this. You may get gray hair." She said, scandalized.

"I hope not." Myrcella voiced playfully giggling. "Gold is more my color."

Both of them giggled and laughed as she reset the board. The final dragon piece had just been placed when the guard outside her door peered through.

"Princess." He said. "Your betrothed, Lord Jasper, is here to see you."

Little surprised her anymore, for she had Joffrey as a brother, but if she was drinking tea, she would have spat it out. How could that even be possible? She had received his letter not a week past. Sansa was just as taken back, but that was normal for the sheltered girl from Winterfell. Suddenly, she felt inadequate in this pink dress. The red would have impressed more. It was less girlish. The door swung open and Jasper jaunted in wearing a rich blue cloak line with silver. Broad shouldered, if slightly thinner than she had last seen him holding a beautiful white rose. Her heart skipped a beat as he kissed the back of her hand with perfect courtesy.

"For you, princess. I trust you'll like it. You said your favorite color was white."

She found her voice after a moment of gawking. "It's lovely, my lord, but I'm amazed to see you at all. I received a letter not a week past."

Jasper nodded. "I wrote a letter before I departed. I hoped to surprise you, princess." He shifted before her gaze and chuckled. "Mayhaps, I erred. Do surprises trouble you? Nothing in your letters has spoken of the matter."

"This surprise was wonderful, my lord."

"Is Bran with you cousin?" Sansa asked with hope.

Jasper paused and shifted awkwardly. "Sorry cousin. Brandon and Crown Prince Tommen remain in the Vale. I didn't wish their education to suffer."

"Oh." Sansa said.

"It's alright Sansa, I'm sure Bran is in good spirits. Tommen has written well of him."

"The princess has the right of it." Jasper said. "Both are as close as brothers and are well protected under my sers watchful gaze. Trust me, little gets by that grizzled old trout. If he faced a dragon, I'd pick him every time." He twisted his gaze. "My pledge remains princess." It touched her. He still kept that promise close to heart.

Myrcella played with a loose strand of hair. "Why are you here, though, Jasper?" She asked.

"To crown you the Queen of Love and Beauty, of course!" Jasper said, winking. "My princess deserves the highest honor of the realm!"

A blush creeped down her neck.

"That's very sweet of you cousin!" Sansa clapped before pouting her lips with disappointment.

Jasper was sharper than she often gave him credit for and guessed the reason for her disappointment. "Worry not, Cousin Sansa, when our Golden Stag is a man grown he shall send me and every knight of the realm to the dirt. Allow me my moment in the sun before I yield to the Crown Prince. You'll grow sick of crowns of blue roses, I promise."

Sansa giggled, but Myrcella had a hard time imagining her plump little brother as a tourney knight. Would his time in the Eyrie truly change him into a knight of summer?

Her betrothed kissed the back of her hand once more. "Unfortunately, my skills may have rusted on that accursed ship. I'll need every moment of practice to have any hope of beating the best of the best. I fear I must keep this visit short. I pray you'll understand."

"Oh, you can't leave!" Sansa complained. "It's such a romantic tale traveling this far for your betrothed! You must be tired from your travels. How much work could you get done today? I'll leave!" She vowed. "Spend your day with your princess."

Poor thing. Myrcella thought. Jasper didn't come here for that and his reaction told that tale well enough. He was as dreadful liar and actor as she recalled from the Kings Road or in the Great Hall of Winterfell. Though he certainly played the charming knight well, his beautiful blue eyes certainly helped. It was a face easy for fondness. Duty was the reason he was here, likely dangerous. Otherwise, he would have brought her brother with him to show off before all the lords.

"It would be unlordly to end this affair." Jasper said. "You've even started your game." Sansa had moved one piece on the board. A lone light calvary man.

"I was going to lose, anyway. Take over for me."

Sansa had inadvertently trapped him kissing the speechless Lord Arryn on the cheek before departing with a perfect curtesy. For sure, he could ignore her, but her betrothed was ever formal and courteous. Myrcella knew she could release him, and that would be the kind thing to do. She remembered how uncomfortable he was after the long feast at Winterfell. She figured he was like his Tully relative Ser Brynden and was more a loner at heart. Every conversation with the Lords of the Vale painted that picture. Though she wished to learn more about him. Her future husband, his letters, often spoke little with many flowery words of little worth. It was worries of a girl, but she wished to know him and what she was getting in to. He couldn't be worse than Joffrey. Myrcella still worried. He needed to love her to protect her from Joffrey when he returned, and now these Tyrells.

Love is my best shield

Jasper chuckled. "If you speak it from your own lips, I'll remain. Though it's been some time since I've played." His eyes grew distant and elsewhere.

Myrcella considered it, but it was better to lose a move and win the game. "I wouldn't wish you any discomfort this night. I know you didn't come for me, my lord." She admitted. Jasper looked as if she kicked the air out of him. He sighed deeply, clearly troubled, before offering an apologetic smile.

"I'm not much of a liar." He admitted with blunt honesty of the Vale. "I know this city is full of them. Seven help me with them, they'll give me many headaches. My grand uncle warned me of them, and he is often right. He wanted to be the one coming south, but he is not the Lord of the Eyrie." He said, kissing the back of her hand. "I would be in your debt, princess, if you would play along otherwise. It's a terrible start to a song, I suppose, and I apologize for the dishonor, but it would serve me well for everyone to see me as a boy chasing glory."

"You don't mean to win the tourney?"

"Oh, I'm going to win that. You'll get crowned if it's the last thing I do." Jasper winked.

His declarations flustered her. Handsome features certainly helped an irksome thing that either annoyed her or was endearing and she couldn't decide on which.

" You would have me take part in this deceit lie to my family and court and yet you give no reason."

"Nor shall I." Jasper said stubbornly. "It's my duty, not yours." And Myrcella could tell she would get nowhere on that point.

Myrcella nodded. "Very well, I shall keep this secret."

"Thank-"

"But." Her voice raised a pitch. "You owe me a debt and I shall collect." Her green, Lannister eyes burned. "Honor demands it of you, does it not? You've wronged me by your own lips."

Jasper nodded as solemnly as a lord could be. "On my honor." He pledged as dutiful as falcons often were. It amazed her he didn't even inquire before making such a pledge. Was he that trusting? Or was it him being reckless and impulsive? The latter. Myrcella thought was more likely. A foolish girl would have said to go on the hunt with the Tyrells, but father would likely invite him and Jasper would go. Why waste a pledge on something he would do, anyway? Jasper seemed to have some understanding of the games here and would watch them like a hawk.

"I wish you to spend more time with myself. Walks in the garden. Dances in the ballroom. A game of cyvasse." Myrcella said. "I also require your attendance at weekly visits to my charity of choice."

Jasper shrugged, unbothered without complaint.

"Tis fine with you?" She asked.

"Boy seeking glory and boy seeking favor with a princess works for me. Both hide my true reasons well. Thank you, princess, it's very kind of you."

He mistakes my reasons. Oh Jasper. Myrcella saw little need to correct him.

Jasper left with a polite nod of his head. Myrcella studied her board. My knight has returned. It changed the game and she would have to play for the good of herself and her family. She plays the game better than me. Myrcella thought of Lady Margaery. They trained her to do this. Trained by her family to be the best. Mother never taught me. Still, Lord Arryn in the capital provided a path of victory.

If he didn't get himself killed.

Jasper

Riding through the streets on horseback, he felt like a knight from a song. Wind kissed him. No one spoke to him and they galloped down the windy, cobbled stone streets as free as air. All the eyes bothered him less on horseback. He was soaring like the flying falcon of his house. Falcons soared above them all! Mayhaps not in the squalor. Jasper's nostrils burned from the stench. Smallfolk shat in the street like animals. A few slight hiccups occurred after his ride to the Red Keep, but he handled them. He had forgotten how keen Princess Myrcella was. He would have to do a better job. The less she knew, the safer she would be. It was his responsibility to handle this treason. Oaths would be honored. Prince Tommen would become king one day and they would never grant the Tyrells a drop of royal blood. Courting her would distract from his goals and he didn't mean any of it.

I won't risk what remains of my heart.

She was very sweet and he would not dishonor her, but trying to be Jasper around her would be a mistake. Jasper was hated by his father, despised by his mother, and ruined a relationship with his kin in Winterfell. Everything he touched turned to ash. Lord Arryn is who he had to be. Calm and dignified like his father before him. Lord Arryn would honor his oaths and safeguard the honor of House Arryn. Lord Arryn would protect his kin from Winterfell and safeguard the prince and princess. Princess Myrcella would just leave him anyway in the end, like everyone else. Fathers words always rang true. Falcons soared alone.

First, I need to survive the vipers pit.

Jasper chuckled as he climbed the stairs of the Tower of the Hand. The capital was dangerous and his mind wandered to the affairs of the heart. What a stupid fool he was. The Stark man Rory? Tory? Dipped his head. "My lord." He opened the door to the solar, where his father once served the realm. Lord Stark resided in his seat. Some tapestry of Lord Cregan hung off the walls. The Hour of the Wolf. The furnishing was sparse and austere, much like his father kept it. Father would have been happy that Lord Eddard Stark carried on his legacy as Hand. Grim and stoic, he understood House Arryns words better than himself. Jasper saw that at Winterfell and on the Kingsroad.

Words nearly left his lips. Words that he had carefully prepared and Lord Starks cold grey icy eyes made him forget every word. They judged him.

"Nephew, what are you doing here? You should be in the Eyrie. Why are you before me?" He said without warmth.

Jasper stiffened at the rebuke. "I'm here to warn you, my lord." He told him of the letter he received from his vassals, albeit he didn't name who less Lord Stark wouldn't trust Lord Baelish's warning about the Tyrells and a plot to set aside Her Grace. He mentioned they felt he wasn't adjusting well to life at court.

"I felt honor bound to come in person." He finished. "I'll help you see these matters resolved."

"You would have been better served in the Vale." Lord Stark said bluntly. "I have matters well in hand."

Jasper blinked and rose from his seat. " With all due respect, Lord Stark, that is not true. Regardless, a unified force is stronger. I shall see every Vale Lord swear himself to your cause. The Lord of the Eyrie and the Lord of Winterfell together shall end whatever plot of Highgarden to sway His Grace astray." He pledged.

Lord Stark raised a brow. "That's gracious of you, nephew, and appreciated, but what reason do I need them? The Lannisters are declawed, and yes, the Tyrells have caused me more headaches than I wished, but I hold more swords than any of them. Swords win wars, nephew." His eyes grew colder. "And you are not in the Eyrie to call yours."

"Oh." Jasper said, a bit humbled. He had not thought of that. How had he not considered that? All he could think was the capital and broken oaths and promises.

"That gave Robert and I trouble during our rebellion. Damn near drowned on the way North."

Lord Stark offered him a drink, but he was hardly thirsty.

"Lad, I've won two wars. Fought in several battles. Faced off against the greatest swordsman that has ever lived." The Sword of the Morning Jasper remembered. Everyone knew the tale of how Lord Stark had bested him in combat. Bran had named his wolf Dawn after the ancestral sword of House Dayne. "The men here are eunuchs and cowards. Why were you so certain I was in any genuine danger?"

Jasper swallowed. "I know you are a man of experience, my lord. "He said. "You were my father's ward. Men speak of your honor as they speak of Jon Arryn. "Of all the men in the realm save Ser Brynden, he respected Lord Stark the most. "But I know games are played here. Games of the south and I feared they would lead you astray. Mayhaps, that is foolish to your ears, but I stand by it. I was counseled to send a man, but I didn't think my father would do that.A Lord of the Eyrie's word holds more weight. It would not be honorable to send another. A man who passes the sentence should swing the sword."

"Jon?" Lord Stark rubbed his chin. "I don't think he would, lad." He said gently. "Jon would send a trusted man and trust that he would do the right thing and would honor his oaths, but I understand wanting to swing the sword."

His shoulders slouched. Once he may have scowled, but Lord Stark knew his father better than anyone. The Gods had strange humors that a Stark of Winterfell knew his father better than him.

"Your actions were well meaning." Lord Stark said. "I welcome your support, but it'll be unneeded."

Jasper offered his hand. "Now and always, my lord." He vowed.

They shook hands.

"Good, you'll be coming for dinner on the morrow then."

Dinner with the Starks? Jasper almost shuddered. It would be a miserable affair and could widen the gap ever further between him and his cousins. "I wouldn't wish to impose." He said. If the Gods were good, he could squirm out of it. I need to keep my distance.

"Cat would give me an ear full if I didn't." Lord Stark smiled. "I'll see you on the morrow, nephew."

Jasper struggled to find a reason to refuse without giving offense and surrendered to his faith.

Lord Starks word hung over him as he penned a letter to the Eyrie informing his ser that he arrived safe and sound. He also asked how his wards were and their progress. Jasper's eyes were strained and blurry under the candlelight. Outside his room, the crescent moon was high above them. A jape from the Gods. I hardly feel like a true Arryn. Despite the rebuke, Jasper refused to believe he did the wrong thing, but it was a petulant defense. Lord Stark was a wiser man than him and was likely right. Regardless, his objectives remained. Stark and Arryn interests had to align and he would provide his voice to the task. The upcoming dinner made him groan. The bastard Snow would be there and Cousin Arya and her venomous glares.

The doors to his study opened as Ser Belmore puffed up his chest. "Lord Baelish wishes to speak with you? Shall I inform him it's too late?"

"Nay." Jasper said. "Send him in." It would do well to get his words on the situation. Mayhaps he knew things Lord Stark didn't and he could express his unhappiness with the relationship between them. Jasper rolled up his letter and put the silver wax seal of House Arryn on the parchment.

Lord Baelish offered a polite bow and friendly smile. "My lord, how fares your talk with Lord Stark? No doubt dull Starks have slow minds." He quipped.

"Take care, my lord. The man is married to my aunt and was my fathers ward."

He offered a contrite smile as he brought his hands to his heart: Lord Baelish wore a slashed velvet doublet in cream-and-silver. "My apologies Lord Arryn." He chuckled. "Congratulations, by the way you look well suited for your role."

"Mayhaps your quips are the reason Lord Stark mistrusts you." Jasper narrowed his eyes. Would he truly have to replace the man? He didn't want to do that.

"Lord Stark mistrusts anyone that doesn't live in his black and white world of honor and justice. I've done as you wished, I've offered my counsel"

"It's not good enough." Jasper said. "You've made little effort, my lord, to work with him. I'm not pleased."

Lord Baelish chuckled. "You wound me."

"Mayhaps, I should do more." Jasper threatened. "I was made a fool in the Tower of the Hand. Your letter-"

"Was the truth." Lord Baelish said with a flippant wave of his hands. "If I told Stark everything, he would get himself killed, or worse, squander your position. I'm sure he feels confident that everything is well, but war is being waged while the direwolf sleeps. Just this past week the Tyrells made an attempt on Her Grace and had they been successful, a rose would become queen."

The statement was outrageous, and he was shaking his head, puzzled. "No one has said of this? Is this some jape on your behalf, Lord Baelish? I'm not amused."

"It's the farthest thing from a jape, and if you listen well." Lord Baelish said. "You'll understand perfectly."

Jasper nodded. Lord Baelish is a friend of House Arryn. He saved him from a pampered faith of dishonor. He was a loyal man.

And so he listened as he painted the picture. According to him, Queen Cersei drank the poison while drinking with her uncle, that only his quick thinking saved her life. The Grand Maester covered it up, per the wishes of Ser Kevan. "Why?" Jasper asked. "Why would he cover it up? Go to the king and have the Tyrells placed in chains."

"Because he believed Stark would side against them and King Robert would listen to his Hand and brother. Lord Renly is ever fond of his Knight of Flowers, as you know."

Jasper snorted. "Not if you told Lord Stark what you told me"

"Ah, but would he listen?" He had a point there. Lord Stark wouldn't listen to him…

"The Lannisters will still retaliate alone if need be." Jasper said.

"They will. Already I have whispers of sell swords being gathered in the West under the Old Lion." Lord Baelish said.

It would be good for House Arryn to let them come to blows. It's perfect! The position of Stark-Tully-Arryn would never be better than watching the Tyrells and Lannisters fight it out across the fields of the south. House Lannister would end the threat to his ward with fire and salt. How could the Old Lion lose? Their reputation would darken not my own. No gardens would grow in Highgarden. Prince Tommen was safe in the Vale and he and Lord Stark would see no harm came to the princess. But it would dishonor the memory of his father. He wished to keep the peace. Jasper came to the capital to deter conflict not start it.

Jasper shrugged and feigned indifference. "King Robert would stop the conflict. It wouldn't speak well of his kingship to let two Great Houses engage in war."

Lord Baelishs voice was a smooth whisper. "His Grace is more likely to bury his head into the sand like an ostrich. His wife and brother would fight for his ear and he would ignore them both, hoping the problem would go away. Stark is the problem. He may convince King Robert to rally the banners of the realm before the job is done. Before Tywin Lannister ends the Tyrells root and stem."

"You may not convince Lord Stark, but I shall. He'll listen to me, eventually. Duty to the Crown demands I stop this war before it happens. Maintain an honorable peace."

"Or you can let sleeping dogs lie." His laughing eyes twinkled.

"I SHALL NOT BETRAY MY UNCLE IN WORD NOR DEED! YOU WOULD HAVE ME KEEP MY SILENCE!" Jasper saw very well the line he was pressing, and his temper took aback Lord Baelish. "You think I would betray my kin so quickly?" He seethed. "Men may be dishonorable and cruel, but I shall not break my word." As High as Honor! His eyes became a blizzard of disgust crossing his arms. "I've often defended you, and you suggest such a wicked thing."

"Peace, my lord. It would be better for Lord Stark and your cousins." He smiled. "All you have to do is let it happen. Let the Lannisters spring their trap against the roses and keep your silence. Let Stark think everything is well. So what if tens of thousands die? None of them will be your men. You would emerge the winners of the war. "

For a moment, Jasper considered it. It was dirty with dishonor, but it would leave them in a powerful position. What could harm them afterwards? The fight would weaken the Lannisters and the Reach would be in disarray. While their banners would be unharmed. Their owns fields untouched. It would be underhanded to let this come to fruition, and Jasper tasted bile in his throat. Tyrell ambition caused this. They would show no mercy to his ward if he gave them the chance.

Father tore down a dynasty of dragons for his wards, but he always held to his honor.

What were the lives of lions or roses to him?

But fathers legacy…

"I'll think about it." Jasper dismissed him, but they both knew what choice he made.

Cersei

Caged.

The bars were everywhere. In the windows. At the door. In her thoughts. A caged lioness? Cersei thought, annoyed as she drank a goblet of wine while the sheep babbled. Her ladies-in-waiting spies for Uncle Kevan. No true men surrounded her. Only spies and traitors like that worm, Pycelle. She dreamed of stomping on him, squishing him beneath her heel.

Jamie was halfway across the world and no use to her. If he were here. Uncle Kevan would never dare to have touched me. Jamie should have been here. Cersei considered writing to him. Nothing would separate them. Not Gods nor men. They came out of the womb together. One and the same. He was her. Cersei could taste his lips. But she dare not risk it. Uncle Kevan would know, and her boy would die. She didn't question that cruelty in his heart.

The old stout fool had more resolve that she thought and had convinced all of father's creatures to follow him. Even pathetic Lancel had abandoned her following the false lion that was her uncle. Don't they see the doom he was leading them towards?

Cersei sneered. Of course not, they are sheep.

She was the daughter of Tywin Lannister, and she was caged. No allies. Any attempts to secure them would to retaliation against Joffrey. My precious first born held for hostage. The prattling of the sheep grew louder and louder, and she wanted to rip their throats and bathe in their blood. The blood of sheep.

"Your tea grows cold, your grace."

"How silly of me." Cersei chimed.

Uncle Kevan would hear her roar, but for now, they forced her to bide her time. While the whore from Highgarden seeks to take what is mine. Already, Uncle Kevan was threatening Joffrey if she didn't grow heavy with Roberts child. Cersei would sooner die a thousand deaths than bear that mans child. Would he cut off limbs of her boy? Joffrey was so strong and beautiful. A true king the moment she laid eyes on him. He would want for nothing.

Cersei hated weakness. It repulsed her. Lannisters were not weak, and he had trapped her, thinking himself strong and clever.

I'll kill him, I'll kill every child of his loins. Cersei smiled, imagining his anguish. The anguish of her breast in his eyes. But for now, that was idle fancy. She was under his control, but never broken.

The sheep left, and the servants arrived to attend to her, preparing her for the feast, welcoming that accursed falcon to the city. How Robert loves Jasper Arryn. One lingered by the door. "Leave, gnat. Or I shall see you whipped."

He extended cloth to her. A symbol of a Mockingbird. "My master says the caged lion shall be freed. Be patient."

It was childish how easy to decipher this was. They wasted it on a Lannister like herself. Baelish wanted hat all men wanted what lay between her legs. It seemed she had an important ally yet.

Sleep well Uncle. Say your prayers, for when I'm freed you shall regret the day you didn't have the gull to kill me.

Cersei giggled and smirked.

Authors Note: Next up awkward Stark/Arryn dinner, Myrcella spends time with Jasper, and preparations are made for the Tourney of the Hand!

BlackHawk43: Yep, I was always 85 percent sure Cersei was going to live. It made sense from loyal Kevans perspective. Guy is loyal to Tywin and his family. Narraive wise it also made sense that she lived. Cersei is a lot of fun to write cause she's just so insane and delusional. I loved her chapters in Feast. Hope you like how things are turning out.

Guest: I'll admit the last chapter was a bit poor, I was going to spend the next two days traveling and I felt you waited long enough so it was rougher than I like. I'm just doing this for fun, I make tons of mistakes every chapter(Especially in the authors notes) or I do things you can only get away with on fanfic. If I made every chapter perfect, I would likely never publish a chapter cause I would constantly change lines or phrases. If this chapter is still poor, I'm just not as good as you thought. Hope you enjoy it though!

Amok: No problem. Glad you enjoy it.