As An Eagle Flies (A House Arryn Quest)

[Silveraith]

The Titan's Strength:

(Tormo's POV)

"We're spending a lot of time on boats Ser." For half an instant your brows furrowed and from the outside it probably looked like a complicated blink. He turned his head to look at Phrank who tried to appear innocent, a big smile on his face with lots of teeth, as if he knew his statement stupid. "Sorry."

"Don't worry, you're nervous and the tension on this boat could be cut with a sword." And indeed it could. Over a dozen men cramped together on a ship headed right for the enemy harbour. They could see them, only a blind man couldn't, the archers would be firing at any moment. His grip tightened on his shield.

"Don't worry boy, you'll get bloody today." Bryen said, punching Phrank's shoulder with a smile. The latter's smile turned grim. "And if you're going to get killed try not to shit yourself." He laughed as the boys face looked even worse.

"Stay close to me Phrank when the battle starts, this goes for all of you. If we get separated it's easier to get surrounded and killed." The young squire nodded, the weight of the unfolding events settling in.

"Shields!" Even from a distance he could hear the order from Ser Gerold. He repeated the command to the men on his ship as all of the other boat did the same, carrying the order down the line. As he raised his shield and the boat neared the piers he could hear and feel the soft impacts of arrows.

As soon as it was safe, to where you wouldn't sink and drown in your armour you jumped from the boat with a yell. "Come on you fucks!" You're voice loud and strong. "Come and kill us!"

You charged, legs moving swiftly. From there the battle seemed to move from one moment to the next, flashes before your eyes. One moment you were blocking and parrying an attack from a gutless pirate that you proceeded to make gutless to beheading an unthinking bandit.

"Ser Tormo!"

The call from Phrank made you hesitate for an instant and almost cost you your life before you quickly riposte and killed a man. When no one else charged you, you turned to look for Phrank, seeing him kneeling over the body of a man. If took two breathes for you to recognize Petyr, there was so much blood, so much dirt and grime on him. He died, beyond the aid of mortal men. He'd been one of your men-at-arms since you could walk. He'd taught you talk to girls and swim in the narrow sea. In your chest it hurt but there was nothing more you could do.

"Get up Phrank." You're voice was dead.

"But-"

"Get up!" You didn't mean to shout but it was the slight crack in emotions. "We're in battle, there's nothing more we can do."

He hesitated but obeyed. You turned away and reassessed the field. Your section of the battle was struggling, of course they were, for they were nothing but smallfolk. In the corner of your eye you saw something. Lord Arstan. He stood there, at least fifty meters from you but the indecision on his face was clearly visible. His head would occasionally turn between looking at the struggling smallfolk, his people, and the walking death that was the Kingsguard.

"Gods, he's a monster. Chosen by the Warrior and the Stranger." You heard Bryen say.

No kidding. In that instant you saw the young lordling make up his mind and run towards the reaper, probably thought it was safer.

You took a breath before turning to the smallfolk. "To me, to me!" You yelled to the smallfolk trying to rally them into a coherent force. With surprising fluidity they followed your command, the limited training they received before this kicking in as they sought to save their lives. As they moved you charged into the fray. "If any of you run, I'll kill you myself and rape your corpse!" That seemed to get the message across and like a hammer you got the men to press the pirates up against the outer wall of the harbour. With nowhere to run they were cut down like wheat.

The battle seemed to have taken forever but when it was over the weight of everything came crashing down on you. Most of the men had gathered together into the hall of the harbour, looking at the wounded, drinking, pillaging the dead, or what have you. The death of Petyr still hurt, you'd have to tell his family. As a Landed Knight and a decent person it was your duty; honour be damned. Honour wouldn't keep you warm or comfort your loved ones. Duty would keep you alive and keep the favour of those above you, just do it right and honour would follow.

Your head turned as someone cleared their throat. He turned, as did both Bryen, Phrank, and the remainder of your men. Standing before was a man who was tall and lean with auburn hair. He wore heavy grey plate and carried the presence of power and command. "I heard that you're the man who rallied the men at the harbour."

You stood. "I am. Ser Tormo Bealish of the Fingers."

"Ser Brynden Tully of Riverrun. I wanted to congratulate you on a job well done, you saved a lot of lives." He extended his hand, to which you took it. Shaking his hand, his grip was strong.

"Just doing my duty Ser, just doing my duty."



A/N: The opportunity presented itself.

 

[Magoose]

The Falcons Rage:

(Jon POV)

You read the letter that was brought to you from the keep and you were struggling to keep your rage in check. Of course it was quite difficult with the contents of the letter being so…

Personal.

Dear Lord Jon Arryn,

How does it feel to know the man who has haunted your dreams is just out of reach? How does it feel knowing that such a murderer be able to sink freely away into the dark.

I made sure the poison was enough to make her death as long and painful as physically possible, not only to kill your son, but to make every moment of her dying days as agonizing as possible.

When I heard your son was alive, I thought it would be most spectacular to have him die in that tourney attack Mayles sent as a nameday gift to the Prince Aerys.

Alas, he did not get the gift of death, as I hoped that he would revive.

I am however, offering myself to you Lord Arryn.

You see, I could escape with Old Mother and her crews at any time, along with signaling my forces to destroy your men at the Harbor. But I want you, Lord Arryn.

I want you to try and kill me. No one of your men, not your good brother… and especially not your son… actually your son could also do.

It would be all the sweeter, if you sent him against me.

I see you every day, pacing, planning, prodding, and hoping that I would be here.

Well now you know I am here.

And I am waiting for you,

King Spotted Tom of the Stepstones.​

Ormund saw you crumple the letter up. "Jon. He wants you angry."

"And how can I not be!" You shouted. "The man killed my wife, nearly killed my son! And you expect me to wait!?"

"Patience is a virtue Jon." Lord Grafton stated.

"He can get away at any time." You lowered your voice, but still boiled with rage. "I will not let him get away.

"You'll fall right into his hands Jon." Ormund replied with a hand on your shoulder. "I want him dead just as much as you do for what he did to my son, but now is not the time."

"No… now is the perfect time." You replied. "He's one of the twelve, we kill him, we deprive them of a commander, a skilled one at that."

"The same can be said for you." Yohn replied. "I'm not going to lose my good brother so he kills the man who murdered my sister. That isn't vengeance, justice or revenge… that is foolishness Jon."

You growled before seeing another Raven fly towards the camp, landing on the strategy table.

You untied the knot on the letter and read it aloud.

"To Lord Arryn, if you wish for your son to die… refuse.

If you wish for him to live, come to the front gate of the keep."​

The entire tent was silent.

"Jon." Yohn said your name.

"He threatens my son." You whispered. "Prepare my armor" you ordered a squire. "and my sword."

Yohn looked at you and understood that there would be no arguing with you. "I shall send a rider to the harbor… then I shall accompany you Lord Arryn."

"Lord Ormund." You looked to the commander of the entire army. "Whatever you may say will not stop me. Not today."

You would kill that man. You would kill him quickly, so that he may never harm another again.

Lord Ormund said nothing and you walked to your tent.

AN: Enjoy.

I had a moment and now I'm just waiting for something to happen.

 

[Magoose]

Alone at Home: A Need For Warmth

82, 83 vs 23, 1

(Rhaella POV)

It was difficult to sleep, alone in bed in the Eyrie. Quite Difficult, knowing that for all you knew, the man you saw as a close companion, as the man you were married to, was not coming home. Months passed, and the few letters that Lord Jon sent always reassured you that Arstan was well.

But after the second month, he stopped talking about Arstan. Something that greatly depressed you.

You didn't want to be alone without your friend, and husband any longer.

Perhaps you were mistaken to leave King's Landing alone. The Eyrie was such a quiet place.

Good for reading, for gathering your mind in silence and to think through all the actions that you may need to think through… but not to… enjoy it.

The sereneness of the gardens were muted by the bees and insects that crawled around it, not crowded with the gossip and rumor of the courtiers.

The Sept was not grand nor large, it was a small place, for religious services and more intimate moments with the Seven. The Septon was a middle-aged man with a hook for a nose, and missing several toes on his feet. He was always barefooted, even as snow or rain fell. He claimed it was penance for his time as a local lawman working for a lord… he had cut the feet off of thieves who had stolen shoes from the Yeoman. The man spent many of his days writing, musings on the philosophy of the Seven-Pointed Star, and how it could make one live a better life…

You remembered the Septon from King's Landing, a Street Septon who had memorized the Seven-Pointed Star and preached for the masses that could not gain entry to the Sept of Baelor. How the man learned how to read and write was a mystery to you, and you never asked, considering he always refused to talk about his own past.

You wanted to not be the lady of the Eyrie… at least for one night… at least for one night, you wanted to feel warm.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Gulltown was a lively city and a lot warmer than the Eyrie was.

The city was full of life, full of happiness and people. It was lovely.

But you were here for one reason.

You walked into their… the finest establishment of reputable… companions and walked to the Matron of the Establishment.

The woman bowed. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you milady Rhaella. Though it befuddles me as to why you are here?"

You nodded and the guards behind you left the room. "Actually, I'm… in need of some training?"

"Training?" The matron was confused. "What training do you think I can provide, how to pillow talk with your husband?"

"Actually, I want to learn to… pleasure my husband for when he returns home from War." You replied nervously.

There was a pause, and the Matron looked at you square in the eyes. "Aren't you worried about your reputation? Being seen in a whorehouse is a very dangerous proposition. Especially for a lady of the house of Arryn."

"Would the realm truly believe the rumors of The lady of the Eyrie going out and visiting a whore house?" You questioned. "Especially when the Lady is more prone to read alone than to engage in such activities. And I am not the Lady Arryn here… I am The Lysine Gabriella." You then handed over a large bag of coins. "I trust your people can keep this affair quiet."

There was a smile. "For the Lady of the Eyrie, we shall never speak of it." The Matron replied.

"Good." You replied. "I should get started."

AN: If you are wondering: No Rhaella will not be caught, she rolled pretty damn well against the gossip people and enemy spies that would seek to ruin her reputation.

She also did not have sex, she just learned tricks from whores.

As for what she learns... well she is still a young woman and is very... flexible, and eager to finally rock the bed with us when we get back.

Edit: This is the only update from me for a while. so enjoy

 

[Magoose]

The Fish of The Rivers:

(Brynden Tully POV)

Your brother was a surprising face to see in the camp of Bloodstone, with the supply ships and the fresh troops for the upcoming assault on the Disputed Lands.

Such a face was easy to see as well. Clean-shaven, without the dirt and tears in his clothes from a long campaign. His boots were also very well worn, but not falling apart from endless marching and running and fighting.

The colors he wore were also brighter, with the red, and white and blues of your house being shone brightly in the afternoon sun.

"Hoster?" You said your brother's name with joy.

"Brynden." He said calmly, as you walked forward and gave him a hug. He did not return it as eagerly as you gave it. "I trust everything is going well."

You nodded as you let go. "Yes. it is." You replied. "Come, you look like you could use a drink."

Hoster groaned. "Aye… A drink would do us well."

The two of you walked to your tent where a jug and two cups to drink were waiting. You poured "Why have you come south brother? Trying to earn some glory for yourself?" You asked, smiling and taking a drink.

"No. Not that at all." He replied. "It's about you're… acquaintances."

"Which one? Ser Gerold, Ser Barristan? Bronze Yohn?" You asked, finding it odd that your brother would refuse such a company as your companions and friends.

Your brother nodded no. "It's the Bravossi."

Your eyes narrowed. Oh… You should have seen that coming. "The Valeman. Tormo Balish." You stated. That man had fought harder than almost all the others of your brigade combined, and you had heard Lord Arryn state that he wished to ennoble him and grant him Middler's point when the war was over, a gift for saving his son's life.

"I read your letter and the promise you offered him, to foster the man's children if he has any. A noble request, but I must ask you to rescind it." He stated.

What?! "I beg your pardon brother, but what the hells would make you ask that of me?" You asked, feeling… betrayed. Hoster had always understood you, in ways few people in the world could.

He never asked you to break promises, it was one of your rules.

"Have you bothered to pay attention to the political situation around Westeros while you rode off to win tourneys?" Your brother asked.

"Besides the Blackwoods and Brackens trying to kill each other, and then drinking themselves to oblivion after the fact… no, I haven't." You replied. "Should I have?"

"Yes, brother." Hoster scoffed like you were an impudent child who lacked any knowledge of the world. "Have you bothered looking at the marriages of the Great houses?"

"No, because you married a Whent and every girl you tried to betroth to me have either died, been married off to another man, or a fucking Frey." You quipped.

"Be serious for once Hoster. The fate of the realm is at stake." He stated.

"Aye, it is. Maelys the Monstrous still has 50,000 swords at his beck and call. He still has three hundred ships that can raid the Westrosi coastline and islands to base them in." You shot back. "So unless you have information to change that, let's just ignore politics and just enjoy ourselves."

"How can you be so calm about the entire realm being bonded by marriage or friendship to the Prince Aerys? Are you not worried about the unstable political situation that may befall the realm if it were broken, or worse yet, Aerys decides to strip us of our noble rights and privileges."

So that's what this is about… power and politics. "Why have you come down here Hoster? Are you seeking to control my life, as father did yours?" You questioned.

"I am asking you to come home when the war is over, and suspend any promises that you may have made to your friends." He stated. "I have a marriage contract penned and a woman waiting for you." He paused.

"Than I refuse." You stated.

Hoster narrowed his eyes. "I am your Lord Brynden, and you will marry that woman when you return."

You looked at your cup, now half empty. "Right now Hoster… I am not a subject under your authority. I am a soldier in the Kings army, battling foreigners who seek to put a foreign king onto our rightful king's throne. I have my duty, and my honor to maintain, and I will not return until this threat has been dealt with."

"Brynden, do not." Hoster started.

"Do not what, disobey you?" You questioned. "You are so frightened by the politics of the realm that you do not try and look at why it formed? Have you thought, maybe for a moment, that instead of trying to foster political agreements, through just marriage and political arrangements, that maybe things can be fostered by friendship and companionship? A growing brotherhood of shared experiences, and memories."

"Such things are sentimental brother, those bonds are not lasting, even in the best of times." Hoster shot back.

"And what about the worst of times?" You fired back. "Having political marriages is fine in politics, and they may cement blood ties, but there is far more to life than just politics Hoster. Far more than blood ties that define us."

"And what is that Brynden?" Hoster replied.

Gods for a lord as skilled as he is, he is as stubborn as a mule. "We are not all bound by politics, Hoster. Not everything is a board, and every piece a player to be moved. Sometimes we move into the position we are in, good or ill. Trying to control men is like trying to control the world… you know it's impossible." You stated.

"Yet I will still try." Hoster replied.

"Stop Hoster." You stated. "Do not make me do something I might regret. If you truly love me… save whatever words you may tell me until I come home."

Hoster was quiet. The air was still, and the heat beat down on the both of you. "Brynden, do not make threats to your lord."

You narrowed your eyes. "Or what… Will you banish me from my home? Will you strip me of my name, of my title, of my dignity… You would destroy a life because you could not control it?"

"Careful brother...be very careful of your next words." Hoster was furious.

But you knew that. And that's why the next words you said hurt so much. "I love you, Hoster. I want you to know that… But I have nothing else to say to you. I have gained companions, friends, and made allies not by making promises and offering things that I have. We bonded through working together, for a common interest, and a promise to meet again once that interest is done, to reminisce on old times." You paused. "I made that promise because I wanted to see my friend again, and hopefully see his son and help him grow into a better man."

You stood up and face your brother. "I hope that you understand…. The tent is yours, my lord."

And you left your brother alone, to allow him to drink alone.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tormo was sitting on the beach, enjoying the sunset. "You brought the wine?" He asked.

"Aye, I did." You replied as you sat next to him. You poured into the cups and smiled. "To good times."

"And to futures yet written." He replied.

Even as you drink, you felt bitter, angry, and… tired.

The news hurt you, the outburst… seeing Hoster angry like that. It hurt you.

Reward: Brynden Tully has been Exiled from Riverrun for refusing to follow his brother's orders to marry a Greyjoy girl.

After the war, he is available to recruit as a knight of your court, though you must allow him to keep a promise to Squire Tormo's son if he has one.

Brynden is now truly a Blackfish of the Tully Family.

 

[Magoose]

At Home: The Old Falcon

(Jon POV)

It was times like these that made you long for the steady peace of the Eyrie. Long had you missed the great fortress on the mountain, the home of your family, and your ancient and powerful line.

It was quite fortuitous that you had learned of Rhaella pregnancy, from the rumor's of the column, that had circulated.

Rhaella was no surprise to you. She was a young girl and… well Arstan and Rhaella never really tried to hide their sexual adventures once they began the long march up the East road to the Eyrie.

Every night in their tent, they proceeded to pored and touch and fuck each other without a care in the world. Making up for all the time they lost due to the War.

It reminded you of Jeyne and you before… before she died.

You were sure the rumors would spread of your son and his lady wife lacking shame to at least attempt to hide their activities from others, but you did not mind it. They were both married, and they had been separated from each other for a long time. Far too long, if you wager a guess.

You did not hide your glee at the thought of being a grandfather. No, not when longed for that very news since you arrived back home and the two disappeared in the celebrations at Gulltown.

You had long given up hope to ever having another child again, your… impotence notwithstanding, you were an older man, not as young and virile as you were in your youth. And Rowena was over six and thirty, having already lost three children in her previous marriage, before her husband had divorced her, leaving her destitute and without a home or a husband for safety.

She had wished to go to the Faith, but you had requested that she did not, offering your hand… out of both guilt and loneliness.

You wanted some happiness for the remainder of your days on this world, and Rowena deserved better than to be blamed for not being able to bring children into this world, deemed a failure in the eyes of gods and men.

You didn't love her… not immediately, but the companionship that you both had, and the pain of similar suffering, allowed you to bond in ways you didn't think another woman would be able to do.

She wasn't just your wife, she was your friend. Someone you trusted that was not just bound to you by faith and marriage. And you thought that would be enough.

Rowena's pregnancy was a complete surprise to everyone, especially you.

That very news always made you weep with joy.

The gods were done taking things away from you… Now they seemed to be giving you the things you have always wanted.

A family.

And that would be enough for you. That was well worth the cane, and the pain you feel every day in your side and your leg.

It would always be worth it.

AN: Or Jon reacting to having his family grow.

 

[Magoose]

The End of The Old Lion's Story

Rolls:1D100 => 41,1D100 => 29, 1D100 => 93

(Tywin POV)

You walked to your father's solar, the message he sent to you was vague, only asking you to come to the solar. It filled you with worry. The last time you saw your father… have moments of weakness, it was right before he indebted half the Westerlands under the Lannister Tax collection.

He always seemed to have a plan, and that made both you and your enemies very wary. It…. made you respect your father's… moments far more than when you had seen them as a child. His moments, always hid an agenda, an angle, a way to make the family strong.

At least, that was what you convinced yourself. Your father was many things to many people. Weak, cowardly, and foolish, were not words you would use to describe him.

Not anymore at least.

When you entered the solar, he was writing letters and other legal paperwork… one that you have never seen before.

"Father." You said quietly.

Tytos grinned. "Yes, yes. Make sure that this letter gets to the king, and make sure there are several more copies prepared for the feast." He then turned to you. "Tywin, perfect timing. Sit."

He pointed towards the bed, which you sat on, nervously. "You must be wondering why I have called you here?" He asked.

"I have, father… and I must ask, what you are doing?" You asked a question of your own.

Your father sighed, before standing. "You know of my weaknesses Tywin, everyone knows I have my moments of… mercy, weakness...generosity. I have forgiven several minor lords of their debts… I have done so to give you a support base… though with how indebted the lord's of the West are, a chance of Rebellion is rather slim… but I cannot be careful."

"Father, what are you proposing?" You asked.

"I am retiring… abdicating my lands, my titles and even my very name… to you Tywin." He stated.

What? "Father, you can't be serious?" You stated.

"I am." Your father stated. "And you want to know why?" He paused, refusing to allow you to speak. "Because I am confident that the Rock is in good hands. Your hands Tywin." He stated.

You were… perplexed. He was just going to leave, and make you rule. You practically were but… there were rules. "Why?"

Your father sighed again and slumped in his chair. "Because I cannot do it anymore Tywin… I can no longer pretend to be what I am not." He stated. "You already know exactly what I am saying." He was right, you did know. "I have set my affairs in order for a clean and safe transition of power."

"And where will you go, to prevent your work from being undone?" You asked.

"I will be going to Pentos… It seems a cousin of ours has bought a vineyard to serve as a trading outpost and refuge for our merchants in Essos. I have requisitioned it to serve as my quarters for a new enterprise I have planned."

Your father then showed you a bottle, with a Lion's head drawn it. The title Golden Mare being drawn underneath the head. "The name is still a work in progress," he stated. "But I truly believe that it would be better to live, not as a lord, but as a man working his passion."

"Father." You took a deep breath and took the document from his hands. "I shall do you well, father."

"Good. Because there is no one else I trust for the Rock." He replied.

He hugged you. And you hugged him back.

Reward: Tytos Lannister has abdicated, and is living out the remainder of his life as a private subject, in The Golden Mare Vineyard in Pentos.

Tywin is now Lord of the West.

Edit: Forces are at work that may create chaos in Westeros.

 

[Magoose]

A Different Future (A Potential Future That Awaits You)

(Rhaella POV)

You were never a stranger to your husband's moods.

There was hardly a day that goes by that you do not find Arstan meditating in the Sept, or in the Godswoods, with the little seedling of a Heart Tree growing out of the Ground, the same one that had long ago been planted by the Mountain Clans who had sworn fealty to him. A sign of peace, between the Valeman, and the Mountain Clans.

He may not deliver the King's Justice like the men of the North did, by doing it himself, but he always retreated after an execution was ordered and carried out. To try to make peace with his own mind, the guilt of ending a life still weighing heavy on his mind, even as he did his duty.

Today, he sat in the sept, alone and staring at a Seven Pointed Star that lay on the altar. He was on his knees, praying for forgiveness of the men he had killed, who had threatened his people and the peace.

In both your old ages, the thought of such things did not bother you, but even now, as you felt chills of winter yet again, you thought back to the days when war consumed his life.

When he returned home the first time, it had invigorated your life, and the passionate nights of enjoying that both of you were still alive was something you cherished, even as the flames of passion died with the birth or Arewen, and later with Aerys, Albert, Brynden, Helen, and Aurelia.

Your children were everything to both of you, and every night Arstan was away from home, doing his duty as Lord of the Eyrie while his father was in King's Landing, before ascending on Jon's… untimely death.

Nights were never another night alone, as they were when Arstan was at war. They were filled with reading, teaching and even writing letters to him, to tell them about their days, and the happenings of the Eyrie.

Little adventures for little minds and bodies to wander, ones you knew always bringing a smile to your face.

Such things were so beautiful and blissful that you never wanted them to end.

But your children grew older, and they became independent of you, and asserting themselves, even as they were shipped away for Fostering, and them to grow on their own.

Years of passion turned to years of happiness in an instant. Arstan and you both enjoying the little moments you had with each other.

He knew your moods, and you, his.

But today, you were the one he could not read them, as you wore worry on your face, and even as he turned to see you. "Rhae… what's wrong?" He asked as he turned around to face you.

You held the letter in your hand. "A raven from Kings Landing came in this morning while you were out… Marq Grafton is dead."

His face morphed first to confusion, and than disbelief. "Marq is dead?" He whispered to himself. "But we just saw him at Dragonstone… he looked like the beacon of health."

You nodded. "A fever took him, in the night." You paused and saw Arstan rub his eyes. "I'm sorry Arstan."

He sighed before slumping against the Sept. "By the gods… It seems everytime I look away, more of our friends die." He paused. "Life has stopped giving us things and only take them away."

Arstan was hardly an elderly man, two and fifty, but he was still a very strong man, like his uncle Yohn, who was pushing six and Seventy. He was the pinnacle of health and vitality, still riding off withe Order of Winged Knights every now and again to rout bandits and vagabonds who wished to subvert his authority.

"Arstan, they are bringing his body back to Gulltown. But there is another quandary that must be addressed." You started.

Arstan knew immediately what was being asked of him. "He already knows my answer, I won't be his Master of Laws. Not again."

You frowned. "Aerys isn't making you Master of Laws Arstan… he wants to make you Hand of the King."

His face said it all. "What? He would sack Tywin to have me take over as Hand?!" He exclaimed.

"Tywin resigned his Handship." You replied.

"Why, he made the entire realm rich for so many years? He built more roads than even Jaeherys, he gave three more city charters to Lannisport, White Harbor and Planky Town. Why would he step down?" Arstan asked.

There was a sigh, and finally you revealed the second letter, with the seal of Tywin Lannister. "Tywin fears for his life...He says that Aerys murdered Marq."

Arstan's face morphed from confusion to rage. "Aerys? Murder Marq? Rhaella, you know Aerys, he hasn't hurt a fly since the days of the Brotherhood. Why reason would he possibly have to murder one of our friends?"

"I don't know Arstan... But Aerys is riding towards the Eyrie, and I fear we will have to give him an answer than." You replied.

For a long while, you both stayed in the Sept, before Arstan rose. "I need time to think Rhae." He said as he walked out of the sept.

You prayed that what Tywin said was just a rumor…

But this was Tywin.

Things are different now... he was not the same man you knew as a girl.

As you dreaded the possibility, you walked and saw Arstan, playing with his army of grandchildren in the godswood.

You prayed he would make the right choice, for you, and your family.

Both of them.

AN: Enjoy.

 

[Magoose]

A Different Future (A Potential Future That Awaits You): The King Arrives

(Arstan POV)

You saw the Kings caravan marching past the Bloody Gate before you even attempted to prepare yourself.

The air was still, and the very movement of hundreds of people seemed to disturb the peaceful tranquility that the Eyrie held in the peaceful years after the War of Iron.

Your children were happy, and you were going to have another grandchild be brought into the world by way of your good daughter… Lady Tully was quite a fertile woman even if her superstitions prevented more… active care for her.

You did not deny the need for isolation to prepare for a very difficult task, but allowing her to lock herself away was quite a different thing.

You had seen what happened with Rhaella when such a thing happened to her when you brokered the peace that ended the millennia of war between the mountain clans and the Valemen. On the insistence of that blasted Septa who thought the sun would do nothing but harm her, to force her to lay for days at a time instead of walking around, enjoying the air of the Eyrie, and the loving care of her family.

And how it nearly led to Rhaella's end.

It was the only time you ever enjoyed tossing someone out of the Moondoor.

"Father." Albert arrived behind you, dressed in his fine clothes and riding leathers. "The king will be here soon, are you not going to get ready?" He asked.

You sighed. "Forgive me, Albert, I was just thinking." You stood up and grinned at your son. "What about you?"

"I was thinking of greeting the king at the lift, and join him as they carried him up." He replied.

Ah… That was it. "Albert, I want you to be with me, and your brothers and sisters, and your nephews." You replied. "For me."

You did not want to tell him why you wished for him to remain at your side.

Your son nodded and sighed. "Yes, father."

Best begin to get ready, the thought crossed your mind as you clasped your son's shoulder. "Now, why are you really bothering me? On a day like this."

You guessed his mother had something about that.

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Aerys Targaryen, the King of the Iron Throne looked aged and weary, as he stepped off the lift. His beard was well kept, but you had seen how wild it could grow when it was wild. His eyes seemed tired, despite the energy in his step. The sword on his side was loose, and he still had the swagger he wore as a younger man. But he wore all black, a sign of wounds… still not healed.

His family followed him close behind, or rather his Grandchildren did. Joanna Lannister did not seem to be in attendance.

The two boys stood on either side, grinning like fools, as he used his two hands to hold them back, green eyes and white hair filled with boy youthful energy and anger of being denied to be unleashed onto the Eyrie.

They clearly wanted to be here, not for the possibility of meeting a new lord, but to see the man who slew the Monstrous King of the Stepstones. And the two boys were everything the rumors said they were…

Vahaelor and Valor were angry, impulsive squires that were as gifted in the art of combat as Steffon Baratheon, Robert Baratheon, Gerold Hightower, Arthur Dayne, James and Cara Lannister, and Ser Barristan Selmy. Peerless warriors with no outlet, save for sparring and tourneys. They were dressed for riding and fighting and seemed to not care at all of the beauty and serenity of the Eyrie.

The girls among the retinue of Grandchildren, Janna and Jenna, were calmer than their cousins. Both were dressed in their finery. Their purple eyes seemed to show nothing but politeness and the grace that their grandmother and mother had.

Aerys was without Joanna… something that still surprised you, after all these years since Harrenhal.

The wound was still quite fresh, even after all these years.

Your subjects and family bowed to him, and you clearly saw everyone follow your lead.

Two heartbeats before the king walked up and showed a hand before you rose. "Your grace." You said as you stood, every one of your people following you.

Aerys than cracked a smile, and gave you a hug. "Arstan!" He said in joy, as he embraced you.

The air felt calmer after such a gesture.

"Aerys." You replied calmly, as he let go. "It's good to see you. The Eyrie is yours."

Aerys nodded and stared at Rhaella, and for a moment you thought you saw tears, before shaking his head and kissing her hand. "Sister."

"Aerys." There was a frosty reply. You grimaced… and then felt relieved when she gave a hint of a smile.

Everything would be alright.

He then greeted your family, and complimented all of them, in his strange way, before turning to you. "Arstan… we must speak… alone if we can."

You nodded, before looking to your large family. "I take it you can escort the princes and princess to someplace where they can rest. The ride must have been exhausting."

"Boring is more the word." Valor replied. "We thought we'd run into a few savages to slay."

You glared at the young twin and made sure he saw it. "The Mountain clans are no more savage than you or I Prince Valor… you are their prince, and you will give them the lord's courtesy."

The shaking you could see from the boy was evident, your tone, the words you carried, were more than enough to strike fear into this ignorant boy who knew not of the Valeman… or the Mountain men, for that matter.

And you left with Aerys to discuss the matter you have dreaded since you received the missive.

Your role in the capital.

AN: Enjoy this little side story of the future.

 

[Magoose]

The Mother:

(Rowena POV)

You had many thoughts about the man that was your stepson. Many thoughts indeed to describe your inexcusable horror, disgust and downright hatred of this… man who claimed to be of the noble line of Arryn, that only the purest of the Andal kings and lords descended from, and could trace their roots back to the Andal invasion of Westeros, and Andalos itself.

Those savages of the Vale, who were not of pure Andal Stock, were… disposable. Of course, you were not blind to reality… or rather the reality of your husband.

That man, strong as he was, and as smart as he was… was far too naive. It filled you with great worry… and a question that ached in your mind.

How was he not killed by his vassals?

He seemed to hold himself as an equal to the men below him expecting subservience through respect, rather than fear.

They were lesser than him and should have bowed to him the moment he took his throne over them. He should have placed his boots on them and stamped down on those who did not follow his commands and praise those who did.

Of course, Jon never heard her words, in fact, she made sure her words never left her mind, save for the moments that would make him swo and listen to you.

He adored you, and he adored the fact he had another child.

You adored that as well.

Alyx would be a fine Lord of the Vale. You would make sure of that. He would be as strong as the Warrior, as Just as the Father, as Kind as the Mother and as ruthless as the Stranger.

He would be the one who would destroy the savages of the mountains… once and for all.

Of course, there was one problem with you're… sons destiny.

His Brother, Arstan.

He was everything that you despised. He was a great warrior but refused to use his blade on those savages, preferring to consort with them and see them as allies, rather than as the filth they were.

That witch did something to your son, you just knew it. That witch made a pact with that boy, and Arstan cared not for the consequences, only that it was done.

The Maesters said nothing was wrong with your son, but you knew better.

That witch did something to him… and you would destroy that woman when you found her.

"Rowena, is everything alright?" Jon asked as he put his hand on your shoulder.

But for now, you had a role to play… the dutiful lady.

And the scorned stepmother.

AN: Enjoy.