Chapter Text
"What shall we name him?" Lysa asked, voice tremulous and faint.
Bright Tully eyes stared back at Jon, but the nose was undoubtedly Arryn. A piece of me, and a piece of her, come together. “Jasper. His name shall be Jasper.”
“He shall bring honor to us all.”
Jasper
The banner of the Crowned Stag slowly creeped onward, into the domain of the Starks of Winterfell; along with the hundreds of knights, soldiers, inevitable courtiers and assorted hangers-on. Jasper wound through them, Arrow drumming a steady hoofbeat into the ground.
Only fortnights past, he was merely the Heir to the Vale - his father, the Hand of the King. and the world was a simpler place.
I thought myself ready; I thought myself so wise.
When word came of his father’s demise, he had thought the hour had come - for him to come into his inheritance! Years of relentless training under the Blackfish, till every muscle ached and his mind was rendered a soggy puddle by the Maesters and sword Lords; what was it for, if not to be ready?
I was wrong, so very wrong.
The world wouldn't wait for him to be ready. The Lords of the Vale needed him today.
I needed to be ready yesterday. Arryn honor needed to be maintained, and her position in court preserved. And so, he traveled north with King Robert to visit his northern cousins.
Despite the true reason for the visit, other - lesser - feelings preyed on him. Weak thoughts of a stupid boy. A stupid boy that dreamed of good siblings, kind mothers, noble fathers.
Riding free, beyond all the sheer cacophony of the King’s men had become his favorite pastime. Horses never judged him, and he didn't have to perform for them. It was the only time he really… relaxed.
Before his Lords, he was Warden and High Lord; gallant and knightly, a man of martial courage who embodied the very spirit of valor and skill in arms. He followed the rules and traditions to the letter, for that was what they expected of him.
Even when he was alone, he performed because he had to do it.
I have no choice. Arryns have no choice. All he knew was As High as Honor was his life, even when he hadn’t understood what those words meant.
A Lord of the Eyrie had to be a true lord - yet, how could he be a true lord, when treachery lived around every corner? Harry, Mother, Father. My family betrays me as easily as they breathe.
All save the Blackfish, and Jasper thanked the Father for him. The stubborn old goat was loyal, and the only family he could trust.
Perhaps people like Lord Baelish, or Mya Redfort might count - that reminded him, he should write to Lord Baelish at the next holdfast, and seek news from King’s Landing.
Grand Uncle Brynden had taught him all the arts of war - and how to not be a pampered shit - for that alone, Jasper owed him.
Unlike Jon Arryn, whose face he couldn’t even recall, no matter how hard he tried.
His fathers will and commands were expressed through letters - their contents as cold as the peak of the Giant’s Lance.
Men named him honorable and kind, but Jasper never saw none of it. The only time he had met his father - really met him, was when an honor guard brought his corpse back to the Eyrie.
It's shameful, I shouldn't think ill of him. He's my father, and he's dead. It was dishonorable to speak ill of the dead.
Yet, now he feared his father was as foolish as the court fool. He had left the great alliance between Arryn, Stark, Tully and Baratheon, rotting under years of neglect. Why were you so… afflicted by sloth, father?
Arrow could sense his discomfort, and neighed gently. "Shhh," Jasper whispered. "Easy Arrow, I'm fine."
He could tell, Arrow believed not a word.
For far too long, they had paid little attention to the men appointed to their positions. Whenever they stopped, he would jot down names that should be appointed towards offices in the king's court. When he arrived in Winterfell, he would offer his counsel to Lord Stark - the last hope of maintaining an honorable realm.
Together, we’ll safeguard the Realm from the ambitious. As High as Honor!
Every other moment, His Grace would command him to ride by his side ( as if Jasper was his son ), jesting and laughing at bawdy jokes. It was - overwhelming, almost, but Jasper could tell what people meant when they said they’d been won over by Robert Baratheon.
It was easy to love the king.
"Caught up in your thoughts, my squire." Grand Uncle Brynden kicked his horse close to Arrow .
" Former - former squire." Jasper replied dryly, commanding Arrow to fly, and by the gods, fly he did. The winds pushed against him as the Northern landscape flew by.
Only when he saw Grand Uncle Brynden falling behind,did he slow down into a light trot, eventually dismounting. Jasper acquired some apples from the local hamlet with copper stars; Arrow devoured them greedily until his sers tired beast finally came a-clopping up the road.
"Took you long enough, ser!"
Grand Uncle Brynden snorted as he took a drink from his canteen. "Unlike you, I was enjoying a leisurely ride, free of reckless charges."
"It can hardly be reckless if you are good," Jasper smiled. And if there was one thing he took pride in, t’was his lance-work on horseback. Swords and other weapons of war were fine and all; but on horseback he was unbeatable. "Apple?" He offered.
Grand Uncle Brynden mumbled, "No, Jasper - you are a greenboy pissing grass." He snatched the apple and took a bite. "Apple’s decent, though." And then took another bite.
Jasper bristled. "I'm hardly a green boy. I've won tourneys, I've fought Mountain Clansman, and I've hunted fierce beasts. What green boy can claim to have done the same?"
"You'll always be a green boy to me," Grand Uncle Brynden jested as he rubbed his chin. "No matter how many hairs you grow on your chest."
Jasper chuckled. "Impossible to please those standards, ser."
"Pissy squire."
"PISSYYY?! DID SOMEONE SAY PISSY SQUIRES!" King Robert's voice roared as the destrier came a-tumbling after them, the Kingsguard in his dust. "Arryn's a god compared to mine useless band of shits! Taking down that boar was damn impressive lad!"
The voice of the king was good-natured, and warm. Even with the smell of wine upon his breath and perfume that clung to him, he still looked kingly upon horseback. The attention was a bit much, if slightly, flattering.
"My squire Lancel fainted at the sight of blood! Blood!" King Robert nearly fell off his saddle as he laughed. "What a girl he is! A squire fainting at the sight of blood . Ha!"
That did sound girlish; which made his position, and the honors afforded House Lannister, even more troubling. Somehow, all of King Roberts squires wore Lannister red.
Jasper nodded, gladdened by the praise. "Thank you, your Grace," he said. "You flatter me, but I'm only as good because of Ser Brynden's efforts."
A sad smile crossed the king's face. " You are honorable, Jasper, and you were Old Jon’s pride and joy. Gods, he was proud of you." His Grace… sniffled . "Jon was a true man who taught me what was what. He shall be missed."
Jasper shook his head. "I was not his only son." His lips twirled in a practiced, mournful smile. "You were as well, Your Grace. You yet bear the hunting knife he gave you." The kings eyes were tearing as he threw his enormous arms around him, and brought him in close. "Damn you, boy. We'll make Jon proud me, you, and Ned!"
"My king." Jasper was struggling for breath - the King still had his infamous brute strength.
Thankfully Brynden interjected. "And will you crush Lord Stark to death, like our Lord Arryn here?" Jasper was gasping for air.
King Robert laughed and laughed, but at least he let go - Jasper took the chance to distance himself from the possibility of another bear hug. He always had struggled with breathing, especially when he was younger.
The king continued to laugh long after he disappeared from view. "You handled that deftly, squire!" Grand Uncle Brynden said.
"I only did as expected of a lord towards his king."
Ser Brynden chuckled. "Modesty; a trait of a good knight."
"I'm a lord," he corrected, almost by instinct.
Jasper had once hoped that father would have stronger, and more able sons after him - who could help the Arryns soar high, above all the buzzards circling around the Eyrie, waiting for scraps.
But his mother, Lady Lysa Tully, only bore himself, and his sickly brother Robert Arryn.
And Robert couldn't share this burden with him.
Falcons soar alone, Jasper knew - and he was a dutiful son.
"You well, lad?" Grand Uncle Brynden asked. "You look… elsewhere."
He wished he could share these worries with his ser, but some things even the famed Blackfish couldn't solve. He needed to say something to throw him off the scent - something believable and honest.
"Oh, I'm just thinking of Lord Stark and my cousins." He sighed. "I've yet to meet any of them."
How do you treat cousins, anyway? Harry was a… disaster.
I shall be formal and keep them at arm's length - until he knew what to do with them, at least.
But he knew everything there was to know about Lord Eddard Stark. He grew up on all the stories of Robert's Rebellion; of all father’s wards it was said Eddard Stark truly upheld Arryn honor.
His ser gave a wry smile, and grasped his shoulder. Jasper nearly flinched from the contact. "Don't worry, grand-nephew; you'll be among your cousins, as should have been done many years ago."
"And if I err?" Jasper whispered, uncertain.
"Then you have a bunch of irksome cousins." He chuckled. "Relax. Don't overthink it, Jasper. You'll get along with them." I hope so.
Jasper gave a nervous laugh. "Oh, I will try - though I make no promises, Grand Uncle."
Grand Uncle Brynden snorted, and Jasper felt his worries ease. With the bravest knight in the Seven Kingdoms, how could he disappoint anyone?
Since he became Lord of the Eyrie, he discovered he could trust only his good uncle to give him good counsel. Even for leal and honorable men, like Lord Yohn Royce, their house came first, before loyalty to their liege.
And mother… Jasper darkened. Best not to think of her. He hoped his cousins would be different - and would be like the happy families they spoke of, in the stories.
"The Crown Prince, though, is an entirely different kettle of fish."
Ser Brynden twisted around. "Quiet, boy!"
"Stilling my tongue will not make it less true, ser."
"Mayhaps, but you shouldn't make an enemy needlessly. Especially one, who will soon be king."
"Perhaps he already sees me as one," Jasper's voice lowered as he recalled the disastrous hunt.
At the crack of dawn, His Grace, and his party of Lannister, Arryn, and Baratheon men departed from the caravan. Jasper saw it as an opportunity to make his acquaintance with Prince Joffrey as the future king of the realm; it was paramount for House Arryn to reinforce its strong ties to the crown.
He steered Arrow beside of Prince Joffrey's white steed. King Robert rode ahead of the party with his nervous squires, who but hovered around like flies. His Grace bellowed at them for more wine to the amusement of seasoned knights. Jasper almost cracked a smile. Several Arryn and Lannister rode comfortably behind them.
“You ride well, my prince.” Jasper offered. “You would do well in the lists, without a doubt.” He could hear the lances shattering against wooden shields; the groans from vanquished foes, as the stands roared.
On the tourney field, a man could soar high - and prove himself worthy of his name. A lord had to be prepared for anything. Constant vigilance. His grand uncle had beaten into his thick skull. How else could a man prove himself in days of peace?
“A tourney?” Prince Joffrey rolled his eyes. “A tourney would be a waste for me.”
Jasper raised his brow beyond puzzled. A tourney, a waste? How?
“I’m sure you would perform well. You are King Robert’s son,” Jasper said.
“Of course I would best everyone. They are mere gnats to me.”
He knew not what to say to Prince Joffreys boast and only offered a lordly nod.
“But you ride well too, Lord Jasper.” Prince Joffrey said. “Far better than your sire. The slightest exertion winded the Old Falcon.” The mockery in his tone was subtle, but unmistakable.
The slight to House Arryn left him aghast. Have you forgotten who won your father his crown? Father had served House Baratheon with honor and distinction and he dared to dishonor his memory with him so recently laid to rest. Or mayhaps he misheard the mockery? Jasper clung to the hope like a drowning man. Surely King Robert’s son wouldn’t have insulted House Arryn…
Jasper swallowed. “My father served with honor, my prince.”
“He was old and couldn’t serve anyone. My father was far too kind towards the man.” Prince Joffrey laughed. And when a prince laughed, others joined in. He didn’t have the decency to look ashamed for his deeds. How are you Good King Robert’s son?
The shame demanded a response with steel, but he settled with words that cut.
“I see you have a crossbow, my prince.”
Prince Joffrey’s laughter ended. “What of it?”
”In the Vale a man kills what he hunts with a spear - and so does your Kingly father, I believe. Afraid of a little blood and guts?” Some of his men snorted in agreement and stifled their laughter with clenched jaws.
Prince Joffrey reddened. “I’m your prince! Not some man of the Vale.” He yelled like a petulant boy, loud enough to send nearby birds to flight.
“A prince who uses a crossbow, whereas his father uses a mighty hammer .” Jasper reminded dryly.
Prince Joffrey shook like a leaf, his green eyes burning with hatred and it dawned on him too late what he had done. By the Seven, it was the Crown Prince he had humiliated! An apology lay on his lip, but his tongue refused to obey. The thought of apologizing to the pissy princeling tasted like poison. He insulted my father. What son could let such stand? Arryn honor had to be defended.
"Then be thankful you live high in the mountains. Hard to reach without a dragon." Ser Brynden said.
And the Eyrie was hard to reach. A prison in the sky.
Two squires of Vale houses greeted them upon their return. They nursed over every blemish on his surcoat and cloak, as washerwomen prepared a bath to wash off the dust and sweat of the ride.
Jasper thanked every servant and squire by name. When they spoke their minds he did not censure them, but most often merely listened, and sometimes nodded along.
Minor complaints, minor worries - they were the smallfolk after all, and it was a Lord's duty to listen to his lessers.
However, when Jon Waynwood offered to brush Arrow , he shrugged.
"Nay, Jon, I shall do so myself. Both of you are dismissed."
Arrow was a friend. Hardly appropriate for an Arryn, but there it was.
Every stroke of the golden brush calmed his heart. Arrow's coat deserved to be as unblemished as the Arryn falcon, and he would lose himself in the repetition, till the Warden and the Lord has vanished, and only Jasper remained.
Blistering wind from the Moon door kissed his cheeks as screams echoed -
Jasper's heart raced louder than Arrow galloping.
A twig snapped -
Lord Arryn drew his sword.
Soon, bodies would be dropped onto the grassy fields. He would make his stand with courage -
"My lord." Prince Tommen stumbled backwards, almost taking a tumble - but the Princess Myrcella’s arm propped him back up. They were both flushed red.
"Lord Arryn, we didn't mean to disturb you." She said, with little lack of courtesy. Even afraid she fulfilled her part well.
Jasper hurriedly sheathed his sword - death to bare steel at royal blood, fool! - and offered an apologetic smile. "Those of royal blood need not apologize to a mere lord." His cheeks were hot with shame. "Especially when the lord is in the wrong."
"In that we must disagree," the princess said, kindly. "We disturbed you. Horribly rude on our parts. Isn't that right, Tom?" She gave the pudgy prince a sharp nudge with her elbow. Prince Tommen nodded in agreement.
Still, he could not leave the situation this raw; these were King Robert's children, and courtesy had to be observed. "Come." Jasper offered. "Take a seat. Arrow doesn't bite, I swear."
Any of the stable boys would seethe with jealousy at being granted a chance to brush Arrow . The royals were rather timid at first, but before long they were spoiling his friend, and having a grand time of it.
Sweet children of Summer. Jasper thought.
Atop the Eyrie, the winds were strong enough to almost shear off the skin - yet sometimes, they quietened, as if in acknowledgment of the majesty atop the top of the world.
Even an Arryn could not command those winds. A necessary lesson - have these royals learned it yet?
As the pair warmed up, Jasper and Arrow entertained them till the sun was low on the horizon. Prince Tommen had a kind heart, and his sister seemed both more intelligent, and sweeter of nature; he would have liked to have met them before today. I wonder why I have not? Perhaps their mother shelters them. Jasper turned away from the nauseating thought.
"I'm sorry about your father, Lord Jasper." Princess Myrcella said suddenly. "He was a good man."
"He gave me apples to feed his horses!" Prince Tommen piped up.
Jasper chuckled. "Then I had better keep such traditions alive," and tossed him one he’d acquired before.
Arrow’s eyes widened - he seems miffed enough to commit regicide , Jasper thought.
Princess Myrcella's bright green eyes narrowed as she frowned in puzzlement. "Tis strange you didn't agree about your father. Did I give offense? Were you not close?"
Very keen of her.
"You gave no offense, princess." He put on his public smile. "I only knew my father from letters. He was a good man - a noble man, but in truth, I have never met him."
He knew that was the truth of the matter. Jon Arryn lived their House words, but not with him - and the bitterness lingered under his skin.
I shamed him. I look too much like mother.
He had the Tully look, save for the distinctive Arryn falcon-like nose, but that didn't matter. It didn't matter he was tall with broad shoulders and a strong frame from days' training in the yard. He was ashamed of me.
Prince Tommen bobbled his head as solemnly as a boy of twelve could; Jasper twisted his head up and saw Princess Myrcella nodding in agreement.
"That's very sad." Princess Myrcella said softly. "Lord Jon often spoke of you. I know he must have been proud."
"You are too kind for this world, princess."
Both of them shivered a bit in the cold. He wrapped his cloak around them. "The queen would never forgive me if you both got a chill."
Princess Myrcella said. "How chivalrous!"
"Unlike Joffrey." Tommen whispered hesitantly. He looked as if the Gods would strike him down. Did he fear his brother? What younger brother is afraid of his elder? This is a poor omen.
Regardless, Jasper shouldn’t comment on the affairs of the Royal Family. A lord should not trouble himself, unless beckoned.
"Well," Jasper said." I believe the hour grows late. You should be taken back to your tents."
"But I'm not tired." Prince Tommen suppressed a yawn.
"Ah, then that must be the wind I hear, rather than a princely yawn!"
Taking both of them by the hand, they departed for the Royal pavilion. Prince Tommen looked dead on his feet, so Jasper lifted him up into his arms.
Gods, he’s heavy.
They passed squires tending to suits of armor, knights gathered around fires telling bawdy jokes. Though surprisingly, none of the Queen’s men seemed alarmed. Did they not miss the children? It was negligent and foolish, but not his worry.
Setting Prince Tommen onto the ground. The prince wrapped his pudgy arms around her shoulders." Twas an honor princess." He said cheerfully. "You and your brother both brightened this dreary day."
Oddly enough, she kissed him on the cheek. "And you were gallant, my lord. I know we were imposing."
"Nay-"
She cut him off. "We were." She used a gentle, but understanding voice - and in the face of royal command, all Jasper could do was kneel.
He kissed her knuckles."Mayhaps," He said, taking his rich Arryn cloak from her shoulders. "But sometimes it's a good thing. Otherwise I would not have learned the treasure that is your wit."
Her cheeks became rather flushed. "Now, I promise you a dance in Winterfell. Your grace. A rare honor, I promise." He winked.
Prince Tommen snored rather loudly.
"Oh, that would be lovely, my lord." Princess Myrcella said. Some snowflakes were floating down into her blond curls. In time, she would become as beautiful as the Queen.
Jasper could see His Grace fending off the suitors - from Sunspear to the Wall, with his warhammer.
Yet, all he could see was that fearful look from Prince Tommen. It tore at him. Was she in danger from her brother? Should he involve himself? Formality commanded his tongue remained tied, but honor to the Crown demand he speak.
So many rules.
Princess Myrcella gazed at him curiously. "You look troubled, my lord. Have we truly worried you so?"
Jasper snorted. "Nay princess. It's just…" He paused.
"Just something your brother has given voice to; it has filled me with unease." He sighed. "Please, if you or your brother are in need, please come to me. I shall help, I swear." He vowed. "Anything at all."
"I see your father’s kindness in you, my Lord." She chuckled. "But I must confess, you are a terrible liar - even for a son of Jon Arryn. I'll pray you shall improve. My family could use good men to defend the Crown."
Jasper shifted uneasily at the praise. "And Prince Joffrey, what sort of man is he?"
"What do you think?"
"He struck me as a prince from some storybook." Jasper lied. "Tall and gallant. No doubt possessing of great courage."
"I suppose he is those things," Princess Myrcella said quietly.
Far too quiet.
Is this who shall be king? One whom inspires fear in his sweet younger siblings. Who insults loyal vassals? Father must have known, but he had said nothing to him.
Jasper could scarcely think of a reason why. How could he let this come to pass? Such a man could not honor the contract between Arryn and the Crown. It would be a pledge of endless blood and ruin.
I see what I must do. If the Crown Prince was truly this wretched, he would have to be removed from the line of succession - through lawful means. If the Seven were just, this was just a misunderstanding, and he would remain a leal man.
Still, the alternative filled his veins with ice.
Only a threat, a true viable replacement, could protect the children and the Arryn name - only the pudgy Prince Tommen remained an option. A far cry from a martial figure whom could earn the love of lords and ladies alike and earn a kings favor. A diamond in the rough.
If they fostered the Prince with Jasper, he could turn him into a prince King Robert would name heir. Surely King Robert wouldn't refuse him? And he had planned to get cousin Brandon to squire…
A second son of the Hand and the spare prince. Jasper mused. How our honor will soar!
Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon had toppled the dragons. House Arryn had never soared higher! Why his father had not continued such tradition for himself, was a constant source of vexation. Fosterings and marriage alliances are the bread and butter of lords - and Jon Arryn neglected both!
"But I've been told that appearances deceive ." His voice was hushed - it would not be wise to speak so brazenly about a prince. "My vow remains the same. All will be well, sweet princess - I swear it." Her green eyes sparkled with weariness.
She doesn't believe me.
"You'll see." He promised again. Whether the princess understood mattered little. She was a woman and couldn't be faulted for such. They had different roles to play.
"Oh, Lord Arryn it's-"
"Are we there yet?" Prince Tommen interrupted, half asleep, rubbing his eyes.
"Yes, we are." She answered quickly, and departed with nary a word.
Jasper disappeared back into the darkness of the camp, for the night was coming to a close already, even for the drunks. It was only in his own tent that the brazen consequences of his actions hit him
Gods, am I really plotting such treason? Am I really playing this game?
These thoughts always overwhelmed him, when he broke any rules. Rules were the foundation of the realm. Lords expected Arryns to be as High as Honor. Honor all oaths. Follow the laws of the realm. Be perfect. A paragon of chivalry and decency.
Not plot to undermine the line of succession! But he would not be left in the dirt. He was going to secure the future of his house for the good of the Vale.
As High as Honor!
Jasper did not get much in the way of sleep - when he came out of his dozing, instead of sheets he was clutching sleek fur instead. Arrow . Those big, chestnut eyes held no judgment; rather, it nuzzled him gently. "Thank you." Jasper said weakly. He smelled of straw and grass.
The head washerwoman looked close to tears when she saw him. Jasper only gave a lordly shrug, and waited on his lessers to attend to their duties. They took the hint quick enough, and began scrubbing and washing the dirt away.
His Belmore squire snuck in nervously as they shaved him. "My lord -" He looked down. " - His Grace is expecting your presence at the breaking of fast."
"Thank you, squire." He dismissed with a curt nod, like a lord should.
Winterfell couldn't arrive quickly enough.