The Witch-King of the Vale [GoT x LotR] Chapter 54 51

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King's Landing. The Great Sept of Baelor. 295 AC.

Lord Axel Arryn.

"Father... You..."

Five years had passed since their falling-out, and in all that ti they had never once seen each other in the flesh, communicating only through letters at best. He had imagined coming ho, making peace with his father, finally sitting down to a proper conversation. Life truly is a disorderly thing.

Long before the ship reached King's Landing, the bells had begun to toll, and that had unnerved him deeply. At the port he was t by the captain of his father's personal guard, Ser Vardis Egen. From what the man told him, the nature of the tragedy that had struck the capital beca clear. His father, Lord Jon Arryn, was dead.

In keeping with the customs of their house, his father had been cremated, and his ashes were to be taken to the Eyrie to be interred with their ancestors. By Lysa Arryn's orders, the ashes were due to be sent ho any day now. He was fortunate the captain had known of this and told him in ti. He had managed to intercept them and say a proper farewell to his father.

There is a belief that near septs the boundary between the world of n and the world of gods grows thin, and ordinary people may speak to the dead and hear their whispers in return. He knew that the Valar existed, that he himself had once been the slave of a lesser god, of Sauron, but even so... Even if such powers were real, they had no concern for ordinary n. They would not help him, and so his faith in them had always been weak. His father, though, had believed for the both of them.

As a tribute to his father's faith, he had carried the ashes to the Sept of Baelor, thinking he might find the words to say goodbye. But the words would not co. First his mother and his newborn sister had died, then Uncle Kyle and Grandfather Robar, and now his father. The people he held dear kept dying, and there was nothing he could do.

"No. There is sothing I can do. I do not believe my father died naturally. Soone killed him. I will find that wretch, and I will break his body, his mind, and his soul until there is nothing human left in him, until he craves death and can never find it."

Having made that decision, he instructed Waymar, as his most trusted man, to escort his father's ashes ho to their ancestors.

...

Aside from the newly appointed Master of Coin, Petyr Baelish, and the Master of Whisperers, Varys, none of the city's important figures ca to trouble him. Littlefinger and the Spider offered their condolences, spoke of how sudden and unexpected his father's death had been, and promised every manner of assistance for as long as he remained in King's Landing. The ssage beneath their words was plain enough: his father had not died of natural causes. The rest who ca were lord-flatterers offering hollow sympathy. It turned his stomach to listen to them, and he drove them away, using mourning as his shield.

He dug through his father's belongings in search of any clue. He questioned witnesses from those final days. He reconstructed his father's schedule to determine the window during which he had been poisoned. The cooks and serving won he interrogated with particular thoroughness. His n prowled every corner of the capital, checking the black market and known smugglers for rare and exotic poisons, dragging suspicious persons straight to the dungeons and squeezing the truth out of them.

He forced himself to write to the Rotten Fish with questions about why she had left King's Landing in such haste and made for Winterfell. He could not stand the woman, but he was prepared to tolerate her presence in his castle for the sake of his younger brother. Robert ought to be living at the Eyrie, at least until he was old enough to be fostered. That the two of them were presently sitting on Ned's neck struck him as poor form.

Strangely enough, nobody in King's Landing moved to stop his activities. The Queen left him to it. The Small Council held its tongue. The Gold Cloaks made a point of staying out of his n's way. Every major power in the city kept its hands to itself, apparently content to wait for the king. This went on for three days, until one thing changed.

The king returned from his hunt.

...

Evening. The King's Chambers.

"AXEL, you little shit, good to see you." True to form, Robert seized him in a bear's embrace.

"Good to see you too, Your Grace." A smile appeared on his face against his will. He could never stay angry at the man for long, simply could not manage it.

"Right then, let's hear it." Before he had quite noticed, he had been sat down and a cup of wine pressed into his hand. "I've been listening to stories of your adventures, but I want the details. How you broke the Dothraki horde and killed the khal, how capable the Unsullied really are, how many girls you've ruined, and how you got your hands on a Valyrian blade!"

"Perhaps a little later." Watching the hurt expression cross Robert's face was almost amusing, but business first. "Robert. What was he like?"

"Jon... Yes..." The king sobered instantly. "All those five years he worried about you terribly. Every ti reports ca in about your battles, Jon visibly aged. Knowing that sowhere out there his son was risking his life over a family quarrel made him miserable." This was not easy to sit with. "But you know, whenever the Spider brought word that you were well, Jon fairly glowed with pride. He never said it to anyone, but he was proud of you and everything you had done."

"What happened then?" That was all he could manage to get out.

"When word ca that you were coming ho, Jon seed to find a second wind. He brightened, shed all that weight he'd been carrying, and breathed freely again. He got his affairs in order early, wanting to have as much ti with you as possible. And then the fever took him. Just like that, in the space of three days, one of the greatest n Westeros has ever produced was gone, a mont before he got what he wanted."

"Thank you. I needed to hear that."

"Hm... I had wanted to do this later, but it'll have to be now." Robert set down his cup and rose to his feet. "Lord Arryn, I would have you by my side as the King's Hand."

"It is an honor, but there are many more deserving n. I have only just beco Lord of the Eyrie, and I must take up my father's banner."

"To the seven hells with all that! The Vale has been run by trusted stewards for over ten years and it hasn't fallen apart yet! And it won't fall apart in the future!" Robert erupted. "Axel, your father helped win the Iron Throne. Now help hold it!"

"Many people will not like my... approach to business," he said, doing his best to the endto avoid this particular honor.

"I don't care. Your job will be to keep the kingdom from falling apart while your king eats, drinks, and fornicates himself to death."

"There are more deserving n. Eddard Stark. Tywin Lannister."

"Agreed, but Ned was not made for intrigue. He's too honest for this kind of work. And Tywin... the Lannisters are already arrogant enough as it is." The king made a patient effort to explain his thinking. "Enough stalling. Speak plainly. Yes or no?"

Robert had helped him many tis over the years, and now he was asking for help in return. He had still not found his father's killer. Only here in King's Landing would he find the answers he was looking for. The position of Hand would give him the power to pursue what he wanted. The weight of all these facts together made the decision for him.

"Very well." Robert brightened at once. "But I have a few conditions."

"Na them, and if it's within my power, consider it done."

"I will do whatever I judge necessary to keep the realm from collapsing. I have no interest in the bleating of flatterers." Robert laughed and nodded his agreent. "And you stop holding tournants without cause." That one gave him pause.

"Done."

After that, the badge of the Hand was pressed into his keeping, the papers of appointnt were signed, and he was sent off to rest.