A/N: this is a month or so into Jon's time at in the Red Keep.
Chapter Four: The Old Falcon I
Jon Arryn winced in place as Queen Cersei shrieked some more at Robert for the latest grievance.
It had started as a simple endeavor. Ser Barristan was due to take over for Ser Meryn around the same time dinner was to be had, and Robert had invited young Jon to accompany him. Dinner was still little more than an hour out, but word had already reached the Queen's ears, and her opinions were soon heard thereafter.
And now his ears were beginning to ache. Normally, he didn't mind delaying that detriment of age, but in this instance, that meant having to suffer the tirade, even if he was not the target of the Queen's ire.
"I cannot believe you would invite a bastard to dine with the Royal family!" Cersei fumed.
"He's Ned's son, woman," Robert shot back. "Take care how you speak of him. He's been nothing but painfully polite, and Myrcella was the one who started dragging him around whenever he wasn't occupied by his duties. If he becomes half the man Ned is, he'll be guarding them one way or another. Might as well get them used to one another."
Having heard the sound many times before with Stannis, Jon could almost hear Cersei grinding her teeth from across the room.
"A bastard is unfit to accompany a princess. And he shouldn't have been allowed in the Red Keep in the first place!"
"Others take your opinions, Cersei! There's bastards enough serving around the Red Keep. One more isn't going to drag down the castle's reputation any further. He's dining with us, and that's final."
The Queen gathered herself and swept out of the room. Only then did Jon let a breath he had been holding release.
Cersei would seethe, as was her wont when she was grossly offended. She might withdraw and avoid the King for this slight, but Robert had the right of it. Princess Myrcella was proving a stubborn streak as fierce as her father's in his youth. A surprise for a girl who had been as quiet as the princess at the beginning.
Jon could remember the many times he had sat Robert and Ned with Elbert and Denys when trying to correct ill behaviors. Ned had taken to them well enough – perhaps too well at times – and Robert would ignore them as he pleased. And words need not be spared for how unyielding and unmovable the Lions could be when sufficient cause was found.
Once more, Jon fought the urge to sigh. He had not known what kind of woman he was helping make a Queen when negotiations with Tywin had occurred after the Rebellion. He had hoped, perhaps foolishly, that Cersei would take after either of her parents. Gods knew that Tywin had swallowed uncountable indignities while serving the Mad King, and the man was brutally pragmatic in executing his duties even with his temper roused, but Cersei couldn't see beyond her wounded pride.
He knew Robert blamed him for arranging the marriage in the first place, and Jon couldn't fault his foster son's accusations.
Alas, that was a bridge crossed many leagues back, and thoroughly burned for good measure. No amount wishes or fervent prayers would turn time back for any of them, so he might as well make the best of it.
[TSS]
As expected, Cersei was refused to appear at dinner, citing caring for Tommen. Joffrey had materialized, the boy picking the spot closest to Robert, desperate as ever for his father's attentions, little mind as he paid the boy. Myrcella was all smiles, either not knowing or not caring for the strife the invitation had caused.
Punctual as ever, the Lord Commander marched to the dining room, young Jon and Qarlton in tow, relieving Ser Meryn of his duties.
"Barristan!" Robert hollered. "Send your squires in here."
Young Jon looked around cautiously, and knelt, which Robert waved off with a laugh.
"None of that, boy. Get in here! I get enough scraping and bowing through the day, I don't need more of it from you here."
The boy was still hesitant, but saw no reason to refuse the King's orders, Qarlton striding in shortly after.
Robert shook his head, incredulous. "Gods, you really are Ned's son. Quiet and too polite for your own good."
Even though Lysa was sequestered in their quarters with their son, Qarlton sat one spot down from the Hand of the King, giving him a nod, and Jon returned the gesture to his many-times removed cousin.
Jon smiled sadly at the scene before him. Seeing Ned's son and Robert's children gathered, even if only a few of them, made Jon's heart ease, even if only a little.
"Really, we should have been able to do this years ago. If it weren't for those ill-begotten dragonspawn. Back when I was still just supposed to be a Lord Paramount, I had planned on giving your father a keep in the Stormlands. He'd be close enough to visit, with you and your mother."
"You hunt, Jon?" asked Robert, the barked out a laugh. "What kind of jape is that? I've never met a Stark that didn't hunt."
"And you won't today, Your Grace." Young Jon almost shuffled in place, likely from embarrassment, "though I had only started accompanying my father and brother shortly before I left Winterfell. I learn to set traps well before then."
The Hand of the king reflected that Rickard Stark had not been all that subtle by sending his second son to the Vale so young. He likely had plans to have Ned grow up in the Vale and form a match with one of Jon's nieces or grand-nieces. Or any with a Lady with decent claim to the Vale. Even if Ned and his hypothetical Arryn bride weren't on the immediate line of succession, whoever would succeed him in ruling the Eyrie would look to consolidate claims within a generation. It was a decent enough move in the Game, and one Jon might have been amenable to entertaining if such a Lady had been available.
Robert smiled, and asked, "Then you know how to skin your game?"
"Yes, Your Grace."
It had little bearing on the course he and Rickard charted, and by the time of the tourney at Harrenhal, they had planned out their alliance. Robert would have married Lyanna, Brandon Stark would have wed Catelyn Tully, a match might have been made for Stannis, either to Lysa or one of the Hightower Ladies, potentially drawing the Reach into the fold. Ned would have asked for Ashara Dayne's hand, a suit that would have been more likely accepted in light of Robert's intent to give Ned a seat in the Stormlands, gaining a possible alliance with one of the foremost Dornish Houses. Together, they would have formed an unshakable power bloc to check Aerys if he descended further into madness.
"Did your father tell you he taught me, as well? Thought I was too good to skin and dress my game, he did." Robert smiled wildly. "He was right, and he wasn't so stuck-up as to not teach me when I finally got around to asking." The King turned to his eldest son. "You could stand to learn a thing or two, Joffrey."
If things hadn't gone so horribly wrong, if they had simply had another year, two on the outside, Houses Stark, Baratheon, Arryn, and Tully would have all been thoroughly bound together at the very least. In time, mayhaps even at Harrenhal, they might have been able to persuade Rhaegar to set Aerys aside, and another Jaehaerys the Wise would have followed the Maegor Aerys had become, and the Kingdom would have rumbled along as it had for centuries past.
Had that come to pass, Robert would have been an able Lord Paramount under King Rhaegar the First, or at least fair with Stannis to help curb his brother's excesses. He wouldn't have been saddled with such misery in his marriage to Cersei. All that Jon and his sons had done, his marriage to Lysa, arranging Robert's marriage to Cersei, none of it was what he would have wished for anyone, but it was the life they had been met with, and he couldn't regret that he had done it, for Robert and Ned still lived where many others had not.
"Jon?"
The old falcon almost startled as he heard Robert's voice cut in. Seeing the rest of the room looking at him curiously.
"You've been awful quiet over there."
"Nothing to worry over," Jon answered, smiling. "Just remembering."
Robert grinned. "Just like when Ned and I were in the Vale, ain't it?"
Jon didn't agree with that, even as his older foster son went onto another story of his upbringing, but he could enjoy the sentiment behind the words, and the solace granted by simple moments like this in an otherwise endless storm of political maneuvering.
Perhaps, after all that had been said and done, that was the best any of them could hope for.
A/N: I said there'd be a time-skip, but Big Bobby B wasn't having any of it and insisted on dragging everyone along for a nostalgia trip, myself included. Not exactly a long chapter either, but that's probably for the best
I have some ideas as to what might have gone down leading up to the Robert's Rebellion, and how everything went to hell by poor decisions and worse luck. Naturally, there's a hundred different perspectives on those events and some assumptions that have been made, correct or otherwise. I'll be covering some of the cornerstones of that later, but for now, you get to have Jon Arryn's thoughts, and a hint at one of the other plot bunnies I have running around (and a clue on Breeze's heritage).
Stannis hasn't vocalized his suspicions yet, not even to Jon Arryn. And he hasn't really done anything that could be considered suspicious to warrant being asked, as his investigation hasn't progressed that far. And in defense of Joffrey, strange as that sounds, he really hasn't done anything yet that stands out wildly beyond what might be expected of a spoiled and petulant 7-year-old.
Questions? Comments? Concerns? You know the drill. Leave a PM or review. Constructive criticism is always appreciated.
(EDITED as of 5 May 2024. If any other errors pop up to your eyes, let me know and I'll correct them as able)
Until next time!
Winterman, out.