Chapter Text
Yohn Royce
He flew and hit the ground with a light groan. Jasper Arryn was good with the lance. He thought as he rose to his knees. Some men claim he was better than Denys Arryn, and he could attest that on horseback he was truly one of the greats. Both he and Robar had tilted against him and he had sent both to the ground, and if they did so again, the outcome would be the same. Jon Arryn had been a fair rider in his youth, but he was never great. The Old Falcon's strength was his honor and his son had brought honor to the Vale. All the appointments to King Roberts Court spoke of great promise. Why Jon Arryn never appointed more men of the Vale to court always rankled them.
We bled for King Robert before anyone. Our liege was Hand and yet the Lannisters achieved the spoils for slaughtering babes.
"Well, fought Lord Royce." Jasper Arryn said, already dismounted. He offered a casket of water that he took with a light chuckle.
The water cooled his throat. "Ser Brynden taught you well."
"He tried his best."
In the stands, he saw the spectators clapping at the display. His beloved daughter, Ysilla, was clapping with everyone. She would have made a perfect Lady of the Eyrie. But he wouldn't fault the boy. A royal marriage was not something one could turn down easily, and with a single grunt, he rose. Yohn still had a few inches on his liege when he stood up in his dented suit of bronze. Despite his age, he could still crush most young men with his bare hands.
"If you can manage it, come south Lord Arryn dare I say, but you could win the Tourney of the Hand."
"You flatter me Lord Royce." He said with perfect courtesy. "But what need do I have to go south? It can't compete with the Vale. Our knights are the best in the Seven Kingdoms."
Yohn chuckled. "I suppose not my lord."
Latter when the sun was vanishing over the horizon him and the memory of the training yard behind him. He and his household were dining with Lord Arryn and his wards. They had prepared a fine meal for them that had his eyes watery. Sweet Crown Prince Tommen and his blond curls. The story of Prince Joffrey dishonor had taken him aback, but it was best that the future king was here and away from the Lannister tit. Brandon Stark, much like his liege, held the Tully look. Auburn hair and deep blue eyes. He looks more like Jasper Arryn than his own brother. Sickly Lord Robert had thin spindly arms and constantly was weeping. Attempts to lean him off the maesters aid had failed. Still, he had a slightly healthier shade to his skin some progress at the least.
House Arryn entrusted him to you to make him a man grown. A hopeless task.
"You are some jouster, Lord Arryn. Few have bested my father in under three tilts." Robar said.
Brandon Stark beamed. "I saw him toss my brother Robb like it was nothing!"
Lord Arryn waved him away. "I take that as the highest praise. Everyone knows of the talents of the Lord of Runestone. It's why I sent my brother Robert to be fostered with him." He twisted his gaze towards him and lowered his goblet of wine. "How fares my brother Lord Royce?"
"He's made some progress. Not as much as I wished." Yohn answered gruffly.
Lord Arryn nodded. "You still have my full confidence, my lord."
You shouldn't. The boy would likely not survive into manhood. Yohn thought with some shame. Lord Arryn needed to name another his heir. Lord Robert may be Jon Arryn's son and his lawful heir, but the Vale would suffer under his tenure. Honor demanded he speak the truth. Not here. Not so publicly.
When the plates were cleared away, he followed his liege to his solar. Lord Arryn ordered Ser Brynden to see his wards to their quarters, kissed Ysilla chastely on the cheek and grasped Robar by the shoulder, naming him a fine knight. Deep in the bowels of the Falcons tower, Lord Arryn offered him wine he accepted with a light nod of his head.
"You wished to speak with me in private, my lord? Well, you have me. Say your peace." Lord Arryn said.
Yohn was considering his words as he drank the sweet wine. "Listen, my lord, I fear I was not being forthright about your brother and his progress at dinner this night."
Lord Arryn chilled, and his smile dimmed. "Speak the truth, then. I will not fault you for it."
"I question my ability to make him into a lord. The boy doesn't take well to swords, nor books. He's frustrated my master of arms and maester alike."
"You'll see it done." Lord Arryn said with conviction. "He is my heir. My fathers lifeblood flows through his veins. He's a late bloomer, nothing more with your help he shall truly soar." Dark blue eyes widened lightly when he lowered his head. "You think I should name another?" His voice raised a pitch. "I honor you sending him to foster and this is how you repay me? You wish me to disinherit my flesh and blood!"
Yohn held stalwart. "You'll do your brother no kindness, nor the Vale either. Honor demands I speak my counsel."
"And you've spoken. I admire your dedication to honor, but I only have one heir to name. If I had another brother, mayhaps I'd name him."
"You have another choice." Yohn whispered.
Lord Arryn snorted. "I have no other choice and I shall speak of this no further." He waved his hand and his voice turned curt. "I think it best you retire this evening. I wish you well."
Yohn gave a dutiful nod, knowing he had failed. They never should have grown up hating the other. He walked through the courtyard where Talons of Falcons crossed in a duel of live steel while they watched. Now, men called him Handsome Harry in jape. Lord Jasper badly scarred his face with steel, taking off his left ear. Harry had unwisely japed about Lord Roberts health in Jaspers hearing. Lord Arryn exploded and tossed his gauntlet at his feet. "You dare insult my brother in my own halls! My father so recently laid to rest!" Jasper Arryn yelled. "Meet me in the courtyard with your sword or name yourself a craven falcon Cousin Harry!"
"Run from you?" Harry scoffed. "I suppose you never learned your lesson. Mayhaps we shall have another funeral after all?"
It would have better for him if he had.
The fight was brief and ended when Lord Jasper slammed his shield into Harry Arryn's face and the boy's knees buckled, sending him to the ground. His aquiline nose shattered, gushing out a stream of blood. He attempted to lift his sword hand, only to be silenced with cold steel pointed at his neck. "Drop it." Jasper Arryn commanded. Harry complied and shoved it away. Lady Anya Waynwood was helpless to intervene. Everyone wondered the same thought. Would the son of Jon Arryn make himself a kinslayer? "Who's the Lord of the Eyrie Harry?" He asked him.
For a moment, Harry refused to reply before grinding his teeth. "You are."
"Say it louder Harry with more meaning!"
"You're the Lord of the Eyrie my lord."
Jasper Arryn nodded. "You dishonored my family with your words. You dishonored the Vale and the name you boast so proudly. Arryn is a name of honor and you shame it. I should kill you, but we are kin bound by blood. Apologize and I shall welcome you back into my peace."
"I'm-"
Lord Jasper sneered, laughing. "Oh, no. Kiss my boots Harry, I care not for the words of a sniveling snake."
"You-"
"Kiss my boot Harry, I won't ask again."
Harry kissed his boot and was sent away. The Waynwood boy joined Jasper Arryns household afterwards. Still, he was the best choice for the Vale should anything happen to Jasper Arryn. Speak to the other lords. Speak with one voice. But he liked the notion little. It stunk of dishonor and treason. Maybe Lord Robert would improve over time? Not likely. At least Lord Arryn was young and healthy. It was likely that he would sire a child, and then this matter of succession would be meaningless. It was still summer and peace held over the realm and he held Lord Robert in Runestone and he could do what was right for House Arryn and the Vale if the day ever came.
Yohn prayed it never would
Tommen
The Vale of the Arryn was beautiful.
The small clear streams and fields of meadows lush and green were amazing to behold! There was much to see and explore. Unlike Kings Landing, it didn't smell foul, but filled with life. When his father boasted about his days in the Vale now, he could understand the wistfulness in his father's voice. It filled him with wonder and joy. Even if the Gate of the Moon was a disappointing castle. Strong and stout, but ugly against the pretty landscape. It was out of place. Tommen even voiced this thought to Lord Arryn, whom grew quiet and grim.
"It's closer to the earth." He told him.
It made little sense why being close to the earth mattered, but Lord Arryns gaze was piercing and he made no further inquiries. He could be as cold as ice when he wished. Tommen thought. Servants draped a golden cloak around his shoulders, pinned with a broach of a stag. They had seen him cleaned and dressed for the welcoming feast. Dirt from the courtyard had been washed away and his hair combed. For once Tommen believed he looked like a crown prince. Maybe I'll do better than Joff.
"What do you think Ser Arys? Do I look well?"
"Like a prince." Ser Arys said with a smile. His white cloaked draped to the stone floor as pale as snow. Whenever he went anywhere, his guardian in white plate was never far off. In the courtyard, he watched while he fought with wooden swords. He even gave him pointers on his fighting stance. Ser Arys eyes looked tired and Tommen frowned. I can't make him suffer so.
"You don't have to come with myself." Tommen declared. "I'll be well protected in the Great Hall." All of Lord Arryns guardsman and their sky-blue cloaks would protect him.
Ser Arys bristled and frowned." My place is by your side. I've sworn an oath." He said. "Why the inquiries?"
Before Tommen could reply, the door to his chambers threw open, revealing one annoyed Bran Stark and Dawn at his masters side. "I hate this Tommen!" He complained tugging at his high collar. "It's too tight!" Bran leaned against the stone walls, groaning. "They are dressing us up like my sister Sansa dolls! This is not what I thought going to the Vale would be like! They even perfumed Dawn like he was some southern lady!" He went wide eyed as he always did when he saw Ser Arys and his white cloak. His knight ruffled his hair and left to attend his post outside his chambers.
Tommen laughed. "I don't think Dawn minds being pampered."
Dawn whined in agreement. The direwolfs coat shined in the light. Claws trimmed as he sat stalwart by his masters side. The beast had grown larger than any dog, and Maester Colemon suggested he may grow to the size of a horse. Maybe Bran could ride him one day? That would be amazing to see! Bran had told him his dream he wished to be named to the Kingsguard. I could name him one someday! And Tommen had promised him he would do just that when he was king. That way, Bran would be by his side in court. I want my friend by my side now and always. Bran had been the only one to befriend him when he was only a spare. Tommen even considered offering Dawn a white cloak as well. The beast was smart and fierce. What other qualities did a kingsguard need? When he was king, he could knight anyone, and why not Dawn? His name was even fitting. Bran had chosen well. He would be the first king to have a direwolf in his kingsguard.
Bran scowled.
"Don't worry Bran, it's just one night. Then back to the courtyard we go."
"Aye, just one night." Bran snickered. "Do you think Adrian is miserable as rain? I hope he doesn't embarrass me again."
Tommen nodded. "Is he still bothering you?" His voice tightened.
"Not since the Bloody Gate."
He grinned. "Good."
Tommen remembered the Bloody Gate well. It was not a fond memory. They had just received letters from home and Bran had a stack of them from his mother, in Winterfell. Adrian taunted him for it and he found his courage and said. "Enough!" His voice was more a plea than a command. "Leave him alone." The bulky Belmore boy two years his elder merely rolled his eyes and shoved Bran to the ground and called him a weak wolf. Tommen surprised even himself when he swung his fist, colliding with Adrian's soft nose. The older boy stumbled to the ground and Tommen was on top of him, raining down blows, screaming. Blood kissed his knuckles, and it sickened him as he enjoyed it. I felt like Joffrey. Both Bran and Jon had to wrestle him off. Later, that evening when they were dragged before Lord Arryn to explain Adrians broken nose, Tommen had been about to confess when Bran said he broke it and displayed bruised knuckles. He had bruised himself to give life to the deceit. Tommen couldn't mumble a single word in otherwise. Jon held his tongue as he always did and Adrian enjoyed the fact Bran was being punished as well. Why did they hate each other so much? Tommen wondered. Afterwards, he wanted to tell the truth to Lord Arryn, but Bran swore him to silence.
Tommen had his friend back.
Maybe it was a fonder memory than he recalled? He mused.
"One look at Dawn or yourself and he would piss himself." Bran japed.
He blushed. "More Dawn than me." He lowered his head. I was just like Joffrey. Only Myrcella would understand, but she was still home in the Red Keep and unable to soothe his worries away. She always had a way of making everything better.
Bran punched him on his shoulder playfully. "Alright Tommen, let's get this over with! You got my back?"
"Always." Tommen promised.
They were seated just underneath the high table suited on the dais with the children of the Lords of the Vale and more minor lords. Above them Lord Arryn sat in the center of the high table, on his right Ser Brynden groomed and tailored for once. Beside him, Lord Yohn Royce of Runestone and Lord Horton Redfort. Tommen didn't like the way they looked at him. He found the company beside him more interesting. Jon Redfort was friendly, telling him and Bran about the Vale. "Lord Arryns hunts are always quite fun! My brothers always said so. This will be my first!"
"Well, I hope we find a bear. Dawn would rip its throat out!"
"With one dog?" Lord Jon said quizzically.
Jon Waynwood piped up shaking his head. "It's a direwolf not a dog." He sighed. "But I don't think it could take down a bear."
Soon they were arguing over if he could take down a grown bear. It grew more and more outlandish. Tommen was smiling and laughing the entire night.
Tommen continued to feed Dawn scraps underneath the table. Currently, he was gnawing on a chicken bone. Voices in the great hall dimmed as Lord Arryns voice echoed. "My lords and ladies, a moment of your time." He raised his golden goblet above his head. "I wish a moment to recognize the appointments of the sons of the Vale to King Roberts court fine and good men every one of them. Once more we shall bring honor to the rest of the realm with us leading the way." He paused and smiled. "A former ward of my father is now Hand of the King. Lord Eddard Stark an honorary son of the Vale! My lords, the day is ours! We now stand in our rightful place! To the Noble Vale!"
"The Noble Vale!" lords chanted.
One Lord Redfort fell out of his chair red faced. "To House Arryn! Long may they soar above!"
"To House Arryn!"
"Arryn! Arryn! Arryn!"
"To King Robert Baratheon First of His Name!" Lord Arryn said loudly. "Our noble king! Long may he reign!"
They chanted out his fathers name, as some knight bellowed. "To our future king! Crown Prince Tommen!"
At that, he reddened like the beats he hated so much. Even Dawn took part howling into the night, sending the table roaring with laughter. "Even the wolf takes part!" someone with the sigil of candles said. Afterwards, Lord Arryn took Lady Ysillia to dance, starting off the dances for the evening. Tommen danced with a few girls. Though he found the attention a bit off-putting. They were sweet enough. Never trust a woman, they are all liars.. Tommen recalled his mother telling him. He hoped that wasn't true. He rather enjoyed dancing with them. Lady Myranda had even told him of her pet kittens. She offered to let him name one. Even Bran got roped into it, though he was scowling the entire night. When he looked towards the high table, Lord Arryn had already retired for the evening. A few people had already retired, it seemed. And he wanted it to last longer, but when he saw the sags under Ser Arys eyes, he thought it would be best.
Tommen said his farewells and went to bed.
Jasper
“I’m hopeless. I never know what to say.” Jasper groaned, lightly tapping his head against the wooden post in the stables. Among animals, he always found his most comfort. “I don’t understand the rules, but lords don’t babble.” He embarrassed himself yet again in the courtyard, going on and on about stupid things that made people gawk at him like he was stupid.
“Your not hopeless.” The warm steady voice of his grand uncle told him. “enough of that dammed talk. It ends today.” And he looked at him, failing to see how even the famed Blackfish could drive away his feelings of awkwardness. Grand Uncle Brynden squeezed his shoulder. “You have great attention to detail, and a great drive for excellence. You simply need structure.” In his hands, he carried a book and Jasper grabbed hold of it. Ser Orryns Code of Knightly Conduct. “Memorize this.” He told him. “Septon Layne suggested such to myself, and I think it makes sense.” Could the book really teach him everything he needed to know?
“But what if I still don’t know what to say?”
“Then watch what I do.” He winked. “And copy me.”
Jasper believed the strength in his voice and vowed to do it well. “I won’t let you down ser, I’ll do my best.”
Grand Uncle Brynden snorted and ruffled his hair. “Now get back out there and do your laps. There will be no slacking around here.”
And the words he heard in boyhood he followed his entire life. The book is my lifeline. And every book he read on proper courtesy had added to the superficial role he took up in public. A group of lords and ladies surrounded him and he entertained them following the rules to the letter. “Your voice was wonderous, my lady.” He praised Lady Redfort. “I don’t think there is a dry eye in the room.”
Lord Horton Redfort swayed deeply in his cups. “It was very plain. Not at all good. Sorry my lord, for my halfwit of a wife.”
“Sorry lord husband.” Lady Redfort mumbled meekly.
“Well, I thought it was lovely, my lady.”
“Bah! Don’t give her leave to prattle anymore than she needs too!”
“I’m surprised you're standing, my lord.” Jasper smiled. “Redfort constitution. Your son Mychel has it, a damn good knight, that one.”
Lord Redfort blushed with pride. “He gets it from me!”
He kissed the cheeks of maidens. Regaled with his lord’s days of valor and promises of spars in the yard. “tomorrow, we shall go on a fine hunt, and mayhaps, we shall bag a shadowcat! I want a fourth one mounted on my wall.” He smirked. “The other three are lonely.” He gave his practiced haughty laugh and when he laughed, they all did likewise. And after a few individuals had departed the halls, it was permissible for him to make his farewells.
He fell face first into the soft pillows and blankets. Disappearing into the comfort. Jasper didn’t even bother to change out of his attire, even his silver leather boots. The feast and all the talking and dancing with every pair of eyes in the great hall looking for him to make a mistake exhausted him. I’d rather be on a ride or in the training yard. Instead, he had to be outgoing and lordly before every vassal. It was draining, and he groaned into the pillow, thankful it was behind him. For three days he had prepared that speech by practicing it in the mirror, and it still felt stilted. Though he gave it after the men were drunk. His grand uncle was right men were best inspired after they had several cups of wine and ale. It made them more foolish and easily impressed. Soon they would leave him and he could settle back into his normal routine. After a long moment of just breathing slowly and forgetting everything, he stirred and lit the candle by his bedside.
The flickering flames illuminated the pages of the tome. He didn’t need to read it for he had already committed it to memory. A knight must speak little that would give cause to offense. He must always have a kind word to utter. Praise Lords and Ladies for what they are skilled. If unskilled, do not mock unless they have treated you with discourtesy. A knight must be gallant towards women at all times. They are of a gentle disposition and there is no honor in their discomfort. Dances are expected of a knight towards a lady of appropriate birth and station. Three dances are permitted with any one woman, anymore and men shall think you are courting her. Praise them for beauty or ability of hands or voice. If unable to find a kind thing to say, a lordly nod shall suffice. Women are of gentle disposition and will not make light of you for misdeeds. You must observe your actions. If they are clumsy, don’t make light of them. Offer to escort them back to the table with a smile. Bend your head for only ten seconds. It signifies acknowledgement of the affair and promise another dance in the future.
Jasper read until his eyes became heavy and sleep claimed him.
A nightmare had him tossing and turning. Once more he was at the moondoor, but this time Robert fell because he was too slow, disappearing forever behind the white clouds, his screams silenced by the roaring wind. Tears flowed down his cheeks as his mother laughed. The tears dried up and his eyes turned to ice as he rose with judgement. “Guilty.” His voice echoed throughout the hall. Jasper cut her down with one swift slash and she fell headless into the oblivion. In the dream, he smiled. What monster would smile? Lysa Tully, despite her sins, was his mother and yet he smiled. Why did he smile? What son would smile at killing their own mother? Even in his nightmares, he shamed himself.
It was just a dream and meant nothing. He had dreamed worse things.
Jasper rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and rose to get ready for the day. A grand hunt with several lords and their sons afterwards they would make their way back to their seats or to the capital. It would be Prince Tommens first hunt and he had promised him he would ride with the Blackfish. He’ll toughen him up as he did me. And he needed to get dressed.
As he finished, Ser Humphrey bald head peered in. “My lord. Maester Colemon requires your audience.”
“Send him in.” Jasper said with indifference, pouring himself a glass of water.
The sound of the maesters chains rattling pierced his ears. Maester Colemon offered a stiff bow with his long, thin neck. “My lord, I bring word from the capital.”
Maester Colemon wilted when he gazed at him. Guilt and fear lived in his eyes. I blamed him for not saving my fathers life. If he had, maybe he could have reconciled with his father in the end. Still, they both had duties they followed and he wouldn’t dishonor him by requesting a new maester. The mans talent was adequate and it would be unkind to damage his reputation.
“My uncle the Lord Hand?” He asked. It couldn’t be Princess Myrcella. Her letter had arrived yesterday. The memory made his lips twirl upward in a near smile. She was very sweet asking if he wished a gift for his nameday and if he would come south for the Tourney of the Hand. It was tempting to crown her the Queen of Love and Beauty like a song. Jasper knew he would prevail against any knight in the seven kingdoms. How could they hope to stand against him when he had a princess to crown! And he had an intense desire to prove himself once more on the field. No one is better than me, I’m the best and I’ll show everyone that. But duty demanded he remain since he had been away from the Eyrie too long and this was his place. Jasper regretted that his response would quash that hope. I’m tied here to the Vale.
“Lord Baelish.”
True enough, the wax seal of a mockingbird stained the parchment. “You may leave maester.”
“If you wish my counsel, I’m more than able to offer some words.”
Falcons soar alone.
Jasper smiled. “There is no need for such Maester Colemon. Good day.”
, In the corner of his eye, he saw him bow and depart his solar. Jasper waited for the door to shut before he read.
Lord Jasper, I regret to inform you that the Roses are sharpening their thorns. Lord Tyrell is traveling from Highgarden, bringing his beloved rose to court. The lion lays wounded and Lord Renly has taken advantage of their woes by finishing them off. Rumors and whispers speak of the Queen being set aside for a Tyrell bride. Lord Eddard Stark, I fear, is out of his element. Despite my counsel, he has not taken to the capital well. The man doesn’t trust me and that will be his damnation. His Grace needs you, my lord. I-
Jasper could read no more. His hands were shaking. Those worthless up jumped stewards! He darkened. They were trying to undermine House Arryns position by making a Tyrell Queen. A Second Dance of Dragons or a Dance of Stags with Lady Margaery taking the place of Alicent Hightower. Prince Tommen, his wards life would be in danger from Reach daggers in the dark. I swore an oath to keep him safe. Then he thought of sweet Princess Myrcella and his promises he made to her. Would they try to see King Robert set aside the match? Marry her to that crippled. Jaspers hand curled into a fist. Did they think he would just sit aside and let this sickness grow? That he would permit them to forge a realm of dishonor. Honor demanded he defend his ward from hidden threats. The future belonged to the falcon and the honorable realm he would forge. Lord Stark needed to understand the threat to handle it. Queen Cersei must remain queen.
I hold no love for the queen, but we need her to remain for the good of House Arryn.
House Tyrell had forced his hand he would travel to the capital under the guise of attending the tourney. When Ser Brynden arrived with his muddy boots fresh from the hunt, Nestor Royce and Maester Colemon were around him making quick travel plans. It would be faster for him to take a ship from Gulltown to Kings Landing then taking the Highroad and the Kingsroad. A smaller guard of fifty would have to suffice, but it would be respectable enough.
“Grand Uncle.” Jasper smiled.
“Ser Brynden.” Both of his councilors said and offered nods.
“Leave us.” Jasper commanded with a wave of his hand. “Thank you for leal service, but I shall speak with him alone.”
Lord Nestor bristled at his dismissal. He thinks too highly of himself. But he offered a dutiful nod all the same and left with Maester Colemon.
“So this is what you meant when you said you were indisposed, grand nephew.” Grand Uncle Brynden’s voice was dry with dismay. “Planning a trip?”
Jasper nodded. “I apologize, tis was unexpected, but I have to travel south for the Tourney of the Hand.”
“You told me you were staying here. Whats changed?”
“Here, read for yourself.” Jasper said with a clenched jaw.
After a quick moment he tossed it on the table and said, “You would be better served to send a raven to Lord Stark. Traveling to Kings Landing would be unwise.”
“I trust not the quill. It must come out of my lip. I need to make him see honor demands it.”
“I think you are trying to play hero, boy. Going down south like a noble lord from a song when you would be better served staying here.”
“That’s not my reasoning. I must do this duty demands it. I know I can be impulsive-“
Grand Uncle Brynden snorted.
“But I know I have to go. This is a threat to my ward and I must do everything in my power to see him away from harm. You trained me to always handle a threat decisively.” Jasper reminded. “My father would have done the same and I must do as I did on the Trident. I must defend their honor. If this comes to pass, I wish to say I did everything in my power to prevent it.” He finished trying to sound like the lord they all wished him to be. Strong and decisive.
“You need to remain here.” Grand Uncle Brynden counseled. “You are the Lord of the Eyrie and have already spent several months on the road. Men will call you negligent should you leave. Send me if you must. Write whatever words to Lord Stark and I’ll be your champion.”
Send the Blackfish? Jasper thought. It had never crossed his mind to send his grand uncle. An Arryn always went himself. Did his father send other men to carry out justice? Honor said it had to be him. Still, for a long moment, he pondered his words. Jasper always tried to listen to him often enough he was right.
“You would do well.” He agreed. “And I trust no man more than you, but I’m still the best choice for success. I have a better relationship with Lord Baelish and blood relations with Lord Stark. I can set up a good relationship between the two and that is needed to maintain our position. Eventually, I’ll have to leave and I need to make sure those two work well together to prevent any further threats. In the long term, I gain more than the short-term loss of reputation.” With Lord Starks influence over King Robert and Lord Baelish formidable talents navigating court, they would secure his position from Roses and Lions.
“Stubborn boy.” His grand uncle said with a sigh. “When do we leave?”
Jasper shifted and gave a sheepish smile. “You’ll be staying here. I’m not taking my wards with me and I trust no other man to keep them safe than yourself.” He couldn’t take Prince Tommen to the capital less he suffer some accident and if he didn’t take Prince Tommen, he couldn’t take the others or men would talk.
His grand uncle reacted better than he thought and only called him a stupid fool.
The next day, in the courtyard, they gathered his household to see him off. His wards dressed in fine cloaks. “Why won’t you take us?” Cousin Bran asked him again, to his annoyance.
“I wish to go as well!” Adrian claimed.
Jasper wore his lordly face. “Your education will be better served here.” And he chuckled, amused. “See? You can agree on something after all.”
Both of them reddened as Prince Tommen gazed solemnly at him, his eyes almost teary. “I still haven’t come up with a Small Council.” He told him.
“Worry not, my prince. You shall accomplish more than you think.”
Jasper hardened. “All of you better be on your best behavior in my absence.” He waved a finger at them. “Don’t give my grand uncle any more grey hairs.”
After they pledged to be good, Jasper twisted away from them. His grand uncle gazed at him with old weary eyes that cut him down. It made him feel tiny, like a little boy playing a lord. He grasped him by the shoulder. “Remember squire, Kings Landing is not the Vale. Think before you act. “
“I promise.” He whispered and pulled away.
, For the first time, some doubt filled him. Am I making the right choice? Was this wisdom or the folly of youth? Would Jon Arryn have traveled to court? Maybe his grand uncle was right. He should remain, after all. This is where he belonged, not in the capital where his father died. The mountains of the Vale is where a falcon soared. How could he hope to accomplish an act of a great lord? He was Jasper Arryn, not Jon Arryn. But in every story, the hero always had doubts at the start that plagued them. Don’t think like that life isn’t a story. You’re no hero.
Duty still demanded his obedience.
As High as Honor.
Jasper rode out of the gates with his knights and didn’t look back once.