Jasper
"Interesting move, princess." Jasper said, rubbing his chin in mock consideration. "Moving your knight piece to threaten my catapult."
She rolled her eyes. "It's not much a threat when nothing stands in my way." Myrcella smirked. "I think you've lost yet again, my dear betrothed."
Jasper chuckled. "I think not." He gave a knowing look as she scanned over the board, looking for a mistake on her part. Myrcella loved the game, and he loved to see her smile. He played for her sake. The game inspired a bitterness in his chest that even Myrcella's cheerfulness couldn't heal. It made him think of all those lonely nights playing by himself while the wind roared around him, making him feel small and alone. I'll make her happy. She deserved some happiness for loving a fool. I can taste the love on her lips when she kisses me. He was drowning in love like a sailor being dragged beneath the waves, and he liked the feel. It made him weak, but he had never felt happier in his entire life. Every beaming smile and laugh cut into him.
If Mya Stone could see me now, she would be laughing.
"How? You sacrificed your dragon in a reckless move to destroy my archers, and your knights have already fallen valiantly in a desperate charge to reach my king. You hold only a few catapults, rabble, and your king, which shall shortly be in my custody."
"All true."
"Then how to you intend to win?"
Jasper grinned. "Why I spoke to Lord Stark before I arrived." He chuckled as her face lit up as bright as a star and she stared at him with hope. "And I fear you best be packing your things. You'll be coming with me to the Eyrie!" Where I shall always keep you. Safe from harm. Jasper vowed.
Myrcella lunged at him, toppling her king over. "Jasper!" She squealed, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck. She showered him with kisses as soft as rain. He wrapped his arms around her, content to hold her.
"Careful princess."He teased. "You may reopen old wounds. I've only so recently been made whole."
She flushed prettily.
Jasper was drowning in love, but he knew his responsibility, and he put on his lordly face. "Now princess." He said, trying to be stern. "Despite my joy at your company, your brother is my ward, and your kingly father has entrusted me to make him a man grown. I cannot have him come crying to you after every blemish and bruise he receives in the training yard. I want your word that you shall not interfere with his instruction."
Myrcella frowned.
"I know you care for your brother, but I must make him a man grown and kings don't go running to their sisters."
"Must you be so cruel, Jasper? He is my little brother."
It pained him to do it, but he knew his duty." And he shall be King of the Seven Kingdoms. Most paths are hard." He swallowed, thinking of his brother. Robert, who lived in Runestone. Alone and afraid. The day he sent him away, Robert wept, but he held firm. "I wished to keep my little brother in the Eyrie, but duty to the Vale demanded I send him away. You have a responsibility to let me make him a man worthy of the Crown."
She sighed, knowing that he had decided. "Just promise me you won't be too harsh with him."
He kissed the back of her hand. "On my honor as an Arryn. I care for him too. He shall make a finer king than we deserve and a better man than I could ever hope to be." He said with conviction. Three days passed. Prince Tommen had sent him a Small Council list that was well reasoned for his age. It filled him with pride knowing the progress he had made. I'll make a king out of him yet. "He shall reign longer than the Old King himself." Jasper whispered into her ear. "With the wisdom of a maester and the strength of a knight."
"And your brother shall grow strong and shall meet a beautiful maiden whom gives him many children." Myrcella said sweetly, cupping his cheeks. He lost himself in her green pools as he pictured wrapping his cloak around her shoulders. Her eyes are kind and filled with love. Jasper loved her green eyes. He wished to show her everything in the Vale. Every rock and every stream in his land. Jasper wished to build that garden with her. A garden filled with life and beauty. He wished to go on horseback rides with her, feeling that gentle sweet smile warming his heart every day for the rest of his life until he was old and gray with rotting teeth. I can't wait for her to meet my Grand Uncle. Jasper hoped he would approve of her, for she had claimed his guarded heart.
A throat cleared behind him. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything." Lord Baelish said with amusement. "But I have matters of importance to speak about."
The princess reddened, and he was little better, but he hardened with his lordly mask. "You are not." He kissed Princess Myrcella's hand. "I fear business of a lord requires my attention, fair princess. I'll see you for dinner with Her Grace and the Lannisters." It was a polite dismissal, but a dismissal all the same. I'm the Lord of the Eyrie. This is my burden and my responsibility to bear alone.
Princess Myrcella was too well bred to protest. She kissed him chastely on the cheek and curtsied. "My lords."And left them both. Lord Baelish wore a black velvet doublet with grey sleeves. A silver cape held up by a Mockingbird broach. His eyes sparkled with mirth for a man being sacked. A hint of guilt filled him at the memory. I had to sack him despite his loyal service. For the good of the Vale. It was simply politics, and he had his duty to the Vale to maintain the Office of Master of Coin. I need a man on the Small Council. And Lord Stark would not have Lord Baelish in his councils.
"Speak your words." Jasper used his lordly voice. "I hope you aren't wasting both of our times."
"Oh, I think you'll desperately need to hear what I have to say." His subservient eyes shifted as if Jasper wasn't his liege lord and in charge. He found it unsettling. He nodded for him to continue.
When Lord Baelish finished, Jasper darkened in disbelief. "Madness. Utter madness." It was a betrayal that struck him to its core. "My mother did not commit such a crime!" How could they think that? Jasper seethed. Despite being a poor mother, she wouldn't have been able to kill his father.
"Don't forget myself." Lord Baelish chimed.
She was as mad as a hatter any intricate plot would be beyond her and Lord Baelish was a loyal man. He has never betrayed me in word or deed. He saved me from a life of weakness.
Lord Stark didn't even see fit to inform him of this? Jasper's hand clenched into a fist. Did they plot to just spring this on him in the middle of court? Don't they fail to see they would press him into a corner and it would force him to defend his mother fiercely, less the Arryn name be besmirched? "As High as Honor." Men would laugh in their cups. They would mock the Arryn name. A name of honor!
The Starks betray me with every breath. Jasper thought bitterly.
They should have come to him. Not plot behind his back like dark blooded scoundrels.
They must think me wretched incapable of justice or reason.
"I agree, my lord." Lord Baelish said ever a friendly voice. "I wish I could give you more answers you seek."
"You've done more than enough, my lord." Jasper said. "Once more you have proved yourself a loyal friend of House Arryn. I shall have words with my uncle."
Lord Baelish tried to warn him against such a course, but he saw little save stars. Justice had to be had. The honor of his house had to be defended with sharp words and conviction. However, as he stormed down the halls, a dull pain awoke in his chest from his old wounds. He paused, remembering the melee and the last time he acted rashly. I almost failed. Failed them all. What was he thinking? Jasper's hand shook. If he stormed into his uncle's quarters hot and bothered, he would say words that would destroy the alliance that kept them safe. Friendship between Stark and Arryn needed to be maintained.
House Arryn would not benefit from rashness.
Talk to someone…
It repulsed him and was against every instinct in his gut, but it was the right choice. It was the only choice.
Jasper needed someone to talk to discuss his options if only Grand Uncle Brynden was with him. He would have sought him out in a heartbeat. Lord Stark and Aunt Catelyn were out of the question, and he could trust none of his vassals in the city with this. He considered Lord Baelish, but some doubt gnawed at him. The way he looked at me was queer. Something was in his eyes that he couldn't quite place, and it bothered him. I won't seek his advice. Then he thought of Myrcella and her intelligent eyes. I shouldn't trouble her with this. This was his duty and his responsibility to handle on his own, and he couldn't trouble his sweet betrothed. He stood alone, as always. Falcons soar alone.
How well has that worked out for you? A small voice tormented him.
And he knew the answer.
"Jasper?" Myrcella asked. "dinner with my mother isn't for several hours." It surprised her to see him and doubt seized him like the Stranger. He stiffened as he rubbed the back of his head with some uncertainty. No words escaped him as he looked like some dumb, dim wit. He regretted his choice acting like some green boy. "I'm sorry I've disturbed you. "He apologized softly. "I should not have done so. It is wrong of me to trouble you; unbefitting a lord." He leaned in to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek in apology "I shall figure it out on my own, as I always do."
"Come inside Jasper!" She begged him, reaching out for his arm and seizing him with strength beyond her womanly frame. Her vigor surprised him. "I just made some tea and I don't mind."
He hesitated.
"You look positively terrible." Myrcella told him. "And you are coming inside with me. I couldn't bear having you wander these halls looking so miserable."
Jasper chuckled. "I suppose I look like horsesh-" He reddened. She's a princess. Not Grand Uncle Brynden. Jasper cursed his tongue.
She giggled as he mumbled out an apology.
The tea was pleasant to the tongue. However, he struggled to voice his problems with her. She studied him with a warm gaze that betrayed fondness. "I'll listen." She promised, resting her delicate hand on his wrist.
"It's my mother." Jasper scoffed. "Lord Stark has this ridiculous notion that she murdered my father. It's a lie as dark as sin." He stood up, hot and bothered. His anger burned straight through him. "And my good uncle didn't even have the decency to tell me himself. I found out through a leal vassal."
"Oh, Jasper, what did you do?"
Jasper offered a wry smile. "Nothing as of yet." He chuckled. "I'm a slow learner, princess, but I learn."
"Truly?" Myrcella sounded impressed. "You did the right thing, Jasper. It would do you little good to confront Lord Stark like this." And he nodded in agreement. I would make a fool of myself.
"I know." Jasper sighed. "I've considered my options." He rubbed his chin, trying to look lordly. "I think my best bet is to threaten a trial by combat with myself as her defender. I doubt my uncle or aunt would risk my death over this. They'll end this madness before it ever occurs."
Myrcella pondered his words, deep in thought, before shaking her head. "It would be serviceable, Jasper, but Lord Stark is a man of honor. It would seem as if you were protecting your mother from justice."
"She-"
"I'm sure she didn't, Jasper, but that's what Lord Stark will believe."
Jasper frowned. "That would undermine my position, then." If only the problem could be a simple one. I simply wish to spend my evening going on a ride down to the harbor or preparing for my dinner with Myrcella and her Lannister kin. Not trying to prevent my mother from meeting the headsman.
She bit underneath her lip. "Well," she asked shyly. "Rig the deck in your favor. Allow my grand uncle, Ser Kevan to assemble witnesses to see the outcome you wish. Lord Stark would be little the wiser and your hands washed clean. Your mother would be cleared, and the Starks appeased." Jasper nodded along as she spoke. It wasn't without merit.
"I cannot do that Myrcella. Even if cleared, they would whisper of it and the Arryn name would be driven in the muck." He chuckled. "And I doubt the Lannisters would do it without a price to be asked. They are an ambitious family."
He leaned back in his chair. No matter what I wish to do, a price must be paid. They considered more options between the two of them, but none of them satisfied him.
"If only Lord Stark wasn't so honorable." Myrcella said.
Jasper blinked and grinned. "Oh, you are perfect, princess!" He said cheerfully, kissing her on the brow. She looked beyond puzzled.
"For what, my lord?" She asked curiously.
"Why I need to act not like a lord, but a man of honor. Arryn kindness, my dear princess." Jasper said. "I shall go to him as a concerned son, weary of dragging my family through the muck of a public trial, but willing to uphold justice with a private investigation into the matter." It was perfect, and he could put this matter behind them.
Myrcella smiled weakly. "That lovely Jasper, but what if you discover otherwise? What if-"
"She didn't!"
"But if she did, what would you do?"
Jasper looked away and slouched his shoulders. "She is my mother." He swallowed. "For good or ill. I fear we don't choose our family." In his dreams, sometimes he killed her. He tossed her through the moondoor, laughing, or he cut her down with a bloodied sword. But those were dreams. What son could kill his mother and call it justice? It was not High as Honor. Jasper knew. It would shatter his heart to kill her. No matter her crimes.
Myrcella squeezed his hand. "I understand." She said. "We don't choose our family." He remembered the ill-born prince and what he did to her. The wounds she suffered at his hand. If only I could cut him down.
"No, we don't." He brushed some of her blond curls to the side. "I'm going to miss this dinner. I have to prepare for my meeting with Lord Stark." Jasper said sheepishly.
She nodded, but Jasper figured she was disappointed. "I'll make it up to you, I promise, and I always keep my word." I'm sorry for disappointing you, princess, but I need to be a lord first.
Catelyn
She missed combing her daughter's beautiful red hair until it shined. "Tell me of your day, sweetling." Catelyn asked, as she brushed. When she was a girl, she brushed Lysa's hair. She always had such pretty hair. Lysa had been such a gentle girl during their childhood. Simpler days, but as the Starks would say. "Winter is Coming." Soon she would have to return to Winterfell once the matter with Lysa and her nephew had been dealt with. Poor Ned. Somehow the Gods loved to torture her poor husband. He didn't wish to be Hand and now he is Lord Regent over the Seven Kingdoms. It seemed the Gods loved their humors. Sansa prattled on about her day and the life of court. She and Princess Myrcella had become fast friends. They were going on a falconry expedition sometime this week with Jasper Arryn. Even Arya, her rebellious daughter, was tagging along.
Is this how life is for you since you've been gone? Have you been so happy?
Ned told her that her girls had watched the death of Ser Loras. It was something neither of her girls should have been witnessed too. She held them both close. Even if Arya tried to squirm away. The dire wolves joined them as well, drowning them in licks. She was too happy to chide them.
"I spoke with an old friend of yours, mother."
"Oh?"
"Yes, Lord Baelish." Catelyn tensed as hard as stone Lysa's letter fast on her mind. "He claims you grew up with him in Riverrun."
She calmed her hands. "I did. He was ward of my father Hoster Tully." The boy had always been getting in trouble, but when you looked into his eyes, he always had a way of getting out of it. But she wondered if the boy still lived at all. Once he was like a brother to her. He wished to be a more a small voice reminded, but that had been so long ago. Still, a part of her doubted he had any involvement in the murder of the Late Lord Jon Arryn. She had met with him twice and he was ever amicable and genial. Though mayhaps, they were not as close as she thought. He had not told her a thing remotely treacherous or revealing. It was difficult imagining him as some cutthroat villain. Yet, she could hardly take a chance with her children.
Sansa turned back. "I don't like the way he looks at me. It makes my skin crawl." She shrugged and brightened. "I suppose he just sees you in myself."
"How does he look at you, Sansa?" Catelyn asked.
"Just deeply." She blushed. "Did I say something wrong, mother?"
"No, you said nothing wrong."
She kept on brushing as her heart stilled at the knowledge. Mayhaps his feelings have remained after all these years. Sansa promised her he only looked and spoke with her occasionally. It filled her with unease that she had caught his attention at all. Not that Sansa understood about his potential crimes. Ned and her had decided that the girls would remain unaware. It would protect them until this was all over.
"Mother, are you done yet? I have tea with the queen and the princess."
"I suppose I am." She kissed her on the top of her head. "Perfect." She watched Sansa depart down the hallway dressed in blue velvets trimmed with white, a silver chain around her neck looking like a woman grown. Lady trailed behind her smelling of perfume. Catelyn wondered where the little girl had gone and when she became a woman? She supposed she would never know.
She looked for Arya, but Ned said she was busy with dancing, and yet he said it with a wry smile. He's keeping a secret from me. Her dear Ned lying to her, but they would fess up eventually as she wandered the Kings Tower Stark men bowed when they saw her. She offered nods of acknowledgement as her mind went elsewhere when she saw some guardsmen training in the courtyard. The clanging of steel made her think of her nephew and the wounds he suffered. She had visited him three times. The boy was always with his betrothed. A sweet girl with blushing cheeks. Princess Myrcella looked like the Lannister Queen in looks, but her smile seemed gentle and earnest. His smile always seemed brighter when it was just the two of them. Then he would look up, and put on his lordly look of strict formality the moment he noted her.
How I wish he poisoned my eldest boy as well.
How could you say that, Lysa, about your boy? Nothing about him should inspire that much hatred. "I'm sorry milady." The guardsman uttered. "Lord Arryn has departed his chambers with some haste."
"You let him go alone?" Catelyn asked.
"He is our lord." Another answered. "It was his wish."
"Lord Baelish had a hand in it, I reckon." The stout guardsman with a blond beard claimed. "Our lord left shortly after his arrival."
Petyr was here? Catelyn thought worried. And my nephew storms off? What did he mention to him? It didn't surprise her when she returned to her apartment, and Steward Vayon handed her an invitation, baring the mockingbird sigil.
Dear Cat,
I extend to you and offer for you and your girls to join me for dinner this night. I find myself dining alone, and I would love to experience your company for the evening. I expect to see you on time and I've informed the chefs of your appending arrival. I shall have your favorites prepared. Don't tell anyone, I'm remembered after all of these years. I've spent much time convincing everyone I am wicked. I'd hate for anyone to discover my sentimentality.
Yours truly
Petyr
Steward Poole looked at her for an answer.
She nodded her head.
Arya had been an absolute nightmare to get into the beautiful grey dress, but she managed it despite the scowl on her face, while she dressed Sansa in a beautiful gown of green silk that brought out her light blue eyes. Nymeria and Lady walked at their sides and a dozen Stark men trailing behind them in their grey cloaks. Catelyn felt better knowing the direwolves were with them. They were the symbol of House Stark and a sign of divine favor for her children. Servants ushered them into the apartment while the guardsman remained outside. Petyr greeted them warmly. He was dressed in a black velvet doublet with grey sleeves. "Cat!" He said, eyes twinkling with mirth. "As lovely as always, my fair lady with your beautiful daughter." She kissed him chastely on both cheeks and Sansa did as well.
"Daughters." Sansa corrected with a stubborn glint that had not existed before. It reminded her of Ned and the North. Hard and cold.
"Forgive me, I misspoke." He offered a friendly smile that won hearts and Sansa nodded placated.
"I'm not doing that." Arya mumbled as she urged her to take her seat. Court had done little to refine her manners. If time in the capital wouldn't do it, nothing would.
He didn't spare one look at Arya.
A low rumble sound came from Lady's throat. A growl as she snarled at Petyr. "Lady!" Sansa shouted, horrified before restraining her. "Heed me!" The normally docile Lady showed her teeth before adhering to her daughter's calls. "I'm very sorry. Lady has done nothing like this before." Strangely enough, Nymeria didn't growl or show teeth. Merely watched with piercing gold eyes that sent a shiver down her spine.
"It's alright, my dear." Littlefinger said. "Most dire wolves find me irksome." He smiled. "I share some wounds from a direwolf, you know."
"You do? How?" Arya asked curiously.
Petyr's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Your Uncle Brandon and I-"
"Enough." She cut him off. "It's inappropriate for the children to hear." It irked her he would mention Brandon in their company. Let the dead lie in peace. The fight was something she rather forget. Petyr had been foolish to challenge Brandon to a duel. She had begged and pleaded for Brandon to spare him. He didn't deserve to die for such folly.
"But-"
"No Arya."
He placed his hand over his heart. "Forgive me Cat." He said. "Let us eat."
"Yes, let's do that." Catelyn said tired. She can only hope she didn't sound it. The feast was lavish. Petyr spared no expense for them. It was a feast worthy of a king. Delicate duck, salmon coated in a thick gravy, peaches from Highgarden, and plates upon plates of lemon cakes. Sansa absolutely tore through them, despite her small ladylike bites. Catelyn consumed one glass of wine and nothing more. She caught Arya feeding Nymeria underneath the table in the corner of her eye. She made no comment since Petyr had made no admonishments himself.
"So I was speaking with the princess and she told me that father said she will be traveling to the Eyrie with Cousin Jasper!" Sansa said dreamily. "It's such a romantic tale."
Arya rolled her eyes. "Cousin Jasper is an idiot."
"Arya!" Catelyn chided.
In Winterfell Sansa would have thrown a barb back, but she only chuckled. "That's not what you said after the melee."
Arya reddened. "Fine, he's only somewhat of an idiot." As if that made everything better. Oh, poor child.
Lord Baelish only seemed to be half paying attention to their conversation. He watched her like a hawk does its prey. He's aware of something I don't and it amuses him. Throughout the evening, he dropped a few breadcrumbs for her to follow. Some outright brazen of him. He knows. By the Seven somehow he knows. "Sansa," she cleared her throat. "Could you take your sister outside please to the waiting room? I need to have a private word with Lord Baelish."
"Oh? I wonder what it could be." Petyr said.
"Okay mother." Sansa curtsied before Lord Baelish. "My lord. You've been a gracious host."
"And you have been a delight." He replied, his gaze lingering a bit too long.
Sansa ushered Arya out. The two direwolves trailing behind them as they both disappeared
"You know." Catelyn whispered.
His eyes twinkled with mischief. "Know?" He rubbed his chin. "You mean about Lysa accusing me of murder? Oh, yes, I know. How you wound me thinking so poorly of me."
"Did you? Did you kill Lord Arryn? Did you plot to kill my nephew?" Catelyn asked, undaunted by his laughing eyes.
"Poor, poor Lysa is ever sick. Soon she'll be accusing her own son of murdering the father." He chuckled. "Shall you excuse me for killing the Tyrell boy as well?" She studied him, trying to see if he lied, but his eyes remained an enigma to her. Catelyn couldn't see if it was a falsehood.
She brushed a strand of auburn hair to the side. "And yet you visited my nephew. He stormed off afterwards."
Petyr did not deny it. "I only told him the truth. The poor boy didn't take it well."
"You didn't!" Catelyn said, outraged. "It involved the boy's mother. Of course, it was going to upset him. How could you-"
"What? Provide myself a shield from the cells. I would gladly do so again. I needed to keep the dullard you married from tossing me into such foul quarters. Starks quick tempers and slow minds. And Lord Jasper was ever gallant in pledging his protection."
She felt more like a Stark then. "And my temper, Petyr, have you considered such?" She rebuked him. Eyes narrowing as tight as arrow slits. "Do you fear a trial so? What do you have to hide?" And she finally saw him. A small gap in his facade, a weakness in his armor. "Ah, you have something to hide."
"Why, my sweet Cat." He caressed her cheek as if he were her husband. "I'm going to be around you and your daughter for some time." Daughter, not daughters. A shudder went through her and it filled her with dread. She had to stop him. Her eyes drifted to one of the kitchen knives, and he saw her and gazed possessively. A revolting gaze. "Oh, my lady. You are an honorable woman and you've broken bread at my table." He chuckled. "You wouldn't harm me." The Gods would curse her if she broke guest right. She slouched, defeated. "I'll-"
"You shall convince your husband to stop this folly or it shall get unpleasant. For you. Your family. Your nephew as well. Family, Duty, Honor are the words of House Tully. Do your duty to your family and stay your husband's hand or weep the consequences of your actions."
"Is that a threat?"
"A promise, my lady. I'm a man of many secrets. Secrets that could bring your family to its knees." Littlefinger smiled at her, and it was Littlefinger. Petyr was dead, and this monster wore his skin.
A grey blur flew, and a wordless cry followed. Her jaw buried deep in his throat as a pool of blood formed on the Myrish carpet as dark as wine. Petyr's lively eyes died before her. She lifted her hands up, coated in crimson red. Puzzled by the look she daughters found her laughing hysterically clutching Lady's fur coat covered in the blood of a man who was once a brother to her, ruining her dress.
Ned loved this dress.
My sweet Ned loved this dress.
Cursed be an oathbreaker. Cursed be he who breaks the laws of hospitality.
Myrcella
They were seated at a long table with a beautiful red cloth spread over the table with golden lions stitched onto the cloth. Candles lit up the dark room as the sun had already set in the distance. Myrcella wore a blue linen gown with the pearls on the bodice. It annoyed mother, whose eyes narrowed at the colors she chose. The colors of House Arryn. Beside of her Jasper should have sat in a fine doublet laced with silver thread, and a sky-blue cloak draped around his broad shoulders. But Jasper had to be preparing for his conversation with Lord Stark. He told her he often practiced his speeches beforehand in the mirror. It was his duty as a lord, but Myrcella wished he were dining with them. A selfish thought. Cousin Lancel sat in his place, chest puffed up with all the pride of a newly made knight. He sang her a song as beautiful as a professional singer. I wonder if Jasper can sing? She had never asked. Would his voice be as sweet as a songbird in her garden? Or mayhaps rough and course as his calloused hands from days in the training yard? His knowledge of poetry brought tears to her eyes. It surprised her he knew any. He always acted like a martial lord in public without an ounce of softness. Behind close doors, though, his heart was as soft as a pillow of silk. She was likely the only soul whose ever heard him recite poetry from heart. Jasper thought his heart was small and brittle, but it was a big heart for a good man. I hope I don't break it. Myrcella prayed. It pained her to see him hurt and small beneath the blankets.
I tried to claim his heart to protect myself and my brother, and somehow Jasper had stumbled his way into hers as well. If she were not among formal company, she might have sighed dreamily, imagining his auburn curls and kissing his lips.
Grand Uncle Kevan sat at the head of the table looking regal and imperious with a cloth-of-gold doublet with black satin sleeves and onyx studs. He looked much like she imagined Grandfather looked. A fierce lion of the rock. A glass of wine in hand. The only one for the evening he had consumed. Pink lipstick remained on his cheek from where she had kissed him chastely. He makes me feel safe. As long as Ser Kevan remained in the city, nothing would happen to her. He had declawed mother as much as she could be without sending her back to the Rock. Though without father, mayhaps Ser Kevan, thought that's exactly where she should be sent. However, mother didn't indicate that it was a possibility. In fact, she seemed cheerful, and that made her stomach squirm.
Mother dressed in a beautiful crimson dress laced together with Myrish silk. A golden crown lay on her head as she looked every inch a queen. Yet, it was the smile that concerned her. It wasn't fake. Something pleased her. What pleases you, mother?
"Looking forward to your trip, grand niece?" Ser Kevan asked.
"Yes, I look forward to my future in the Vale and growing bonds of unity between House Baratheon and House Arryn, as is my duty." Myrcella recited her lines perfectly.
Cousin Lancel scoffed. "King Robert should have married you off to the Westerlands." He puffed up his chest. "We deserve the princess of the realm, not the Valeman!"
Ser Kevan tapped his fingers on the table. "House Arryn is a permissible choice to House Lannister. We see the benefit in this union. It shall serve the Crown well."
"Yes, I shall do my duty ser." Myrcella said.
House Lannister stood in desperate need of friends and allies in the days to come. House Arryn was the best bet for them. In the future, he may even be Hand of the King. I'll advocate for them, but my duty lies with my husband and brother. Jasper seemed to be amiable enough to deeper ties with them, but publicly, he still shunned them for the sake of his vassals. Bitter at their dishonorable reputation and fast rise to power. Still, she knew Jasper was considering taking one of Ser Kevans sons to squire as well when he was old enough. "For the good of your brother's future realm. House Lannister has to remain in the fold." And having a Lannister close to the future king would serve them well. The boy could serve on his Small Council and the balance of power upheld.
Mother smiled. "Oh, the Lord Regent may change his mind." Myrcella's heart shattered at the thought, but she held her submissive expression. Mother can't see the affection that has taken hold. She needs to see me as loyal. A loyal daughter.
"That would not be in the interest of House Lannister." Ser Kevan voiced his command. He coughed into his sleeve. "She will be." He coughed again. Lancel raised a slender brow, worried.
"Father?"
"I'm fine." Ser Kevan drank some water. "Just something down the wrong pipe." He stood straight and tall, as if that settled the matter. Then he paled and his chair tipped over as he hurled blood onto the carpet. He bled through the eyes and nose as well, though nothing had pierced him. Lancel was at his side screaming for a maester, then praying to the gods, but Myrcella knew it would do no good. Ser Kevan was dying and nothing could be done to save him. May the Seven judge him justly. With one last outreach of his arms and a dying word on his lips for his son Lancel, he collapsed, unmoving.
"My sweet cub," Mother whispered. "Shh, it's okay." Bringing her to her chest, and Myrcella deluded herself that she cared. It was an easy delusion to believe, and she surrendered to the warmth. She pretended like she was truly a mother. But she needed it as she wept girlish tears. Ser Kevan was a good man and didn't deserve this end.
When she sneaked a peak, Lancel's tears were streaming down his cheeks. He rose like a wounded lion with a thorn in its paw, as the guardsman shifted around uneasily. "THEY MURDERED MY FATHER! THOSE FUCKING ROSES!" He roared. "WE SHALL AVENGE HIM!"
"My lord?" One of them asked.
"Get every man sworn to defend House Lannister! I know where there is a rose to slay! The source of our woes!" Lancel said, unthinking. He was acting like a boy who just lost his father.
Myrcella voiced weakly. "You know not, it was them. We should wait and seek justice from the Lord Regent."
Lancel twisted around violently. "It was the Tyrells." He spat out."My father told me of their little plot to make Lady Margaery Queen and the lies they say of us about Ser Gregor." He slammed his hand against the dining table and Myrcella jumped into her mother. "AND THE STARKS WILL NOT GIVE US JUSTICE!" His eyes became hard. "There is only one justice I'll accept."
"They have attacked House Lannister ser." Mother said. "Defend it, brave cousin."
Myrcella couldn't find it in herself to speak up against the madness when they departed. Then she saw the corner of mother's lips twirl up. It kicked her in the gut. Mother, you didn't…How could she have done it? She reasoned. Ser Kevan had a food tester, and his wine came from his study under lock and key. She blinked and remembered.
"You'll have to kiss Ser Kevan for me sweetling, and Lord Arryn as well."
"Mother!" She blushed. "Lord Arryn isn't coming to dinner. Duty calls him, I fear."
Mother sighed a flash of disappointment. "More likely what lies between a whores legs." She stroked her hair and Myrcella held her tongue. "Still, kiss him after dinner. Bind him to you. I purchased some cosmetics from Bravos for you. You'll be so beautiful he'll feel shame for his misdeeds."
Myrcella blinked rapidly and pushed away from her. "You did this, didn't you?" She swallowed and felt her anger pulse through her. "You did this, and you used me to do it!"
"Oh, my poor cub, you don't know what you say."
"It could not have been the Tyrells. He had a food taster and his wine lay bottled and unopened. You did not touch him, not with lips, nor nails. I did, and you wished me to kiss Lord Arryn as well. You've always wished him handled. Is that what you meant?"
Call me a liar. Please call me a liar. Mother disappointed her again. "Well, you wished to help your brother, and you did." She voiced with pride. "I couldn't do it, but you no one would suspect you. Sweet doting Myrcella." She rubbed a thumb over her cheek. "Now go to Lord Arryn's room and kiss him, and our family can be reunited. Tommen will return home. I'll deal with Lord Stark and Tommen shall send for his brother during his brief reign. Robert may claim himself King, but we shall see that overturned. Everything will be perfect under Joffrey's reign." Myrcella felt green, as if she would spill out all of her dinner all over the floor. She used her. She dirtied me. Darkened my heart. I'm filthy. I'm as dark as sin. Nothing is so wretched as a kinslayer and she wanted her to kill Jasper as well. If he had shown up, he would have bled out on the floor as red as his auburn hair.
Myrcella slapped her.
Hard.
The action stunned them both, as she couldn't believe her hands didn't fall off. A purple bruise would form on her cheek. "Sweet-" She slapped her again and found she liked it and she felt her vision darken with fury like father did on the Trident. Her mother became the dragon prince and she would make her suffer.
"You touch one hair on his head and I'll kill you." She seethed. "By the Seven I'll kill you!"
"Your loyalty is to me and your family." Mother tried to regain control of her, but she would roar and show her claws, too.
"My loyalty is to my brother Tommen. My loyalty is to my betrothed and if you harm either of them, I'll kill you." She promised meaning every word. "I should do so this night, but Tommen loves you. Though you deserve it not."
Mother had enough and slapped her. She whimpered at the bruised skin. "I shall wear this like a badge of honor."
"Quiet, you stupid girl." Mother said, eyes burning.
Her eyes burned just as brightly. "I am your daughter, mother. Your blood flows through my veins and I shall see your world burn to ash if you harm those I care for." She jabbed a finger at her. "I don't care about the consequences of what happens to myself. I'll tell Lord Stark, I'll tell grandfather as well. I will scream until everyone knows what we did here today! Push me at your own peril!" And she made her way to the door.
"Don't you take one more step, Myrcella. I am your mother and you will do as bid."
Myrcella paused and went out the door, anyway.
I don't have a mother.
She went to her quarters and found soap and water and washed her lips until the skin fell off. Dirty. Unclean. Filthy. Woman without honor. She wished to go to Jasper and sob into his chest and let him hold her, but she was disgusting. She wished to mourn Ser Kevan. Brave Ser Kevan whom she murdered, but she couldn't even look at herself in the mirror and she sobbed the entire night away.
Margaery
The stone-timbered manse stood on a sprawling estate with a large garden, stables, and thick red walls surrounding the grounds. It paled compared to Highgarden, but in was in the capital where the power flowed from the Iron Throne and it was right where she needed to be. Close to Lord Renly and able to pounce at the slightest weakness in the Lannisters. Everyone seemed to whisper that it was the Lannisters who killed her poor brother. It made them fearful, and fearful men were easy to sway. Grandmother and Lord Renly both seemed to think Lord Stark incapable of keeping the peace.
"His honor shall weigh him down like a suit of arms until he can't move." Lord Renly told her and grandmother agreed with him. A rare thing. Grandmother had little respect for Lord Renly's talents and she found herself mostly agreeing. He was pretty to look at, but little of substance. Still, men required little of substance to follow. Only a handsome, charismatic lord. They had convinced him to remain in the capital instead of traveling back with poor Loras. She tensed, holding her brush until her knuckles went white. All of them will pay for that. Every one of them. The position of House Tyrell would be best served by keeping him in the capital as Master of Laws. It afforded them a toehold in the capital and flowers grew ever well given a plot of land. And with Lord Stark as regent, it was uncertain if he would keep the position if he jaunted off to Highgarden. Hoster Tully, son and heir, was the most likely choice for Master of Laws. Thankfully, Lord Renly looks like King Robert in his youth. It would give him a modest edge with Lord Stark.
It was a pity they had to abandon the bastard scheme. Our hands are already too dirty, by ambition. They would laugh it out of court, but men could believe it in the Stormlands and the Reach. Especially when it benefited them. When they closed their eyes, the lie would be sweet on their lips. Renly is who they wish to be king. The princes and princess looked like the Lannister Queen and everyone hated and feared the Lannisters.
Soon she would be leaving for Lord Renly's apartment for a late dinner, but she wanted to look the best. And she needed to allow him some time amongst other company in a brothel.
Father had left her fifty guardsmen under the command of Ser Emmon Cuy to oversee her security. A zealous if dull man, he drilled the men relentlessly in the courtyard. Margaery put down her brush and went to the window to hear the birds sing.
Screams and the sound of swords echoed throughout the courtyard. Margaery went to the window and saw the crimson red of House Lannister streaming over the walls. They had battered the bronze gate open. "FOR THE OLD LIONS BROTHER!" Men cried out.
"FOR CASTERLY ROCK!"
"HIGHGARDEN!"
"DEFEND OUR ROSE!"
Men screamed. Men died. It was Alla, one of her lady in waitings, that seized her arm. "My lady, get away from the window!" She shut the shutters as Ser Emmon, in full plate with a sword yet to taste blood, entered, escorting the rest of her ladies-in-waiting into her chambers.
"Lady Tyrell, barricade the door. Under no circumstance do you open the door save by my leave!" He barked with command.
Margaery nodded mutely, too stunned to do anything save nod. Why were the Lannisters attacking them? It made little sense. "You two." Ser Emmon said to her guardsman by the door. "with me. By the Warrior himself, no one gets through us. Not one lion shall get their paws on our roses."
"Not one lion." They shouted through the stone walls and thick wooden Mira was the one who snapped her out of her daze. "My lady!" She shook her head, and she remembered her bearing. They shoved the wardrobe against the door and all the furniture they could push against it. They clutched one another. Elinor wept loudly. Margaery didn't cry, she was too well bred for that. Though she shivered when the sound of swords clanging outside the door and she clutched Alla's hand. Had Ser Emmon and his men won the day? They crushed such a foolish hope with the sound of swords banging against the door. Margaery paled as Elinor fainted into Lady Mira's arms.
"Get an axe up here!" A man cried out.
The defenses crumbled soon after and men bloodied by battle stormed in with wild, feral looks in their eyes. Unlike the clean shiny suits of arms Loras or Garlan wore, they were coated with blood. Ser Lancel led them blond and beautiful with burning eyes. "Kill them all! Kill all of them! Avenge my father!"
Swords sliced through flesh. It was good Elinor had fainted. She wouldn't have felt much, or so Margaery hoped. A sword sliced through Alla's neck her sharp tongue would move no more. Mira tried to crawl away, but took a sword to the gut. Megga was hiding underneath the bed, but they dragged her out kicking and screaming and stabbed her in the back. Margaery ran to the edge of the room, when Ser Lancel shoved her to the ground. "Please ser." She moaned out. "Mercy." His green eyes burned. There would be no mercy from his lips.
"My father's life was NOT WORTH A CROWN!" Ser Lancel screamed and swung. Margaery had her arm outreached.
She screamed.
Lancel gurgled out blood and went to his knees, a beautiful sword piercing him as beautiful as a rose. A man behind him wearing a white sun on black surcoat had dealt the blow. Four fingers were on the ground around her and an ear as well. She looked at her hand. My fingers, where are my fingers? She pressed her hand against where her ear was and felt nothing. Why don't I have an ear?
A queen needs an ear. A queen needs an ear.
Chains rankled in the nighttime air as a letter baring the crimson red of House Lannister was handed off in the dark. The last command of Ser Kevan and the wishes of Tywin Lannister. Tomorrow, it would board a ship to the Free Cities and a prince would die before he could ever sit on the throne.
For the Good of House Lannister.
Authors Note: Wow, I killed a lot of people. Poor guys. This is pretty much the end of Act 1, but I'll be slower in my updates. I've become almost compulsive with getting to this point and my schoolwork has suffered. I need to get a firm system in place before I start working on the next chapter! But next up, I think we are going to Dragonstone which would formally be the end of Act 1. Act 2 is pretty much the invetiable Tyrell/Lannister war and the Starks/Arryns dealing with the fallout of the conflict and handling the whole Lysa and Baelish affair. As always I enjoy seeing your reviews!
Darkwarrior44: I wanted to do a complicated relationship between Jasper/Jon that ultimately evolved to mutual respect on both sides even if neither would ever truly be friends. I think the conflict is intresting. And I think most of you seem to agree considering most reviews always comment on their relationship. And I think the war is pretty much cleared up by the point! Lannisters and Tyrells are going to be at each others throats! Hope you enjoy it!
Doctor D: Just wanted to say I love your name. Phinease and Ferb is a great show! Pretty much, I've read a lot of fics where the OC goes to Winterfell or lives in Winterfell and they are brilliant with a sword better than Jamie and as intelligent as Varys/Littlefinger. A perfect little player, and I find that against the theme George tells of human weakness. I wanted Jasper to come across as unlikable(But not overtly so) like if I wrote Jasper killing Jon or raping Arya he would be irreemedable and people would be praying for his death every chapter.(I would be too. Why write someone so detestable) Instead, I wanted a guy that would slowly learn and grow and you can say. "YES JASPER! DO THE RIGHT THING YOU DUMB BASTARD!" And if he makes mistakes its more forgivable. I see a lot of times an author will write the OC to be perfect, but then he makes a really dumb mistake to push the plot along and it annoyed me. "He's Mr. Perfect! Mr Perfect shouldn't have done such a boneheaded choice!" Pretty much, I always intended for Winterfell to be as worse as Jasper really got. He placed all these expectations on finally having a family that he made all these mistakes. Hope you enjoy this chapter!
Amok: I'm glad you enjoyed it!
Guest: Yeah, we'll be checking in on Bobby B and Jon shortly!
Leo-Writing: Pretty much, I've always seen Baelish as a guy with a dozens plots in the air and hes juggling them all masterfully. Pretty much his plan was for Jasper to be killed in the heat of the melee people would point fingers. Men would blame the Lannisters or the Tyrells. Baelish would whisper in Neds ear and war would be had. Ned would support Robin for Lord of the Eyrie and Baelish would feed on the chaos. Even here Baelish had a nice plan, he found out about Lysa coming back reasoned that it was due to Cat. Went to Jasper to make sure he exploded to put an end to it and if that didn't work Cat should have done so to protect her family. But then a giant direwolf decided they had enough of his plots. And Lady was just perfect for it!