Chapter 3

“My lord, the Hand will see you now.”

The lad was a lanky fellow, likely Jon Arryn’s squire, and far too jittery for a place like Kings Landing.

It had taken two days to get this meeting, likely Jon’s not-so-subtle way of telling me he wished I’d sent a letter instead. Fair enough I suppose, the King hasn’t exactly made a secret of his dislike of what little is left of my family.

How I wish I had never held that damn tourney.

“My lord Hand” My bow was slight as I enter, a good start for what would likely be a volatile conversation.

“Lord Whent, always a pleasure to have you in the Red Keep.”

Liar.

We shook hands before he offers me a seat, I wonder if he knew why I’m here? Harren had been at Harrenhal for over three years now, I suppose the Spider would have little trouble picking up the tale. Or perhaps the eunuch couldn't be bothered with such a comparatively small matter.

Shella had kept him hidden away during the tourney, too afraid of what the Mad King might do if he learned house Whent had a possible heir. Only the King could legitimize his inheritance, but there was no way of knowing how Aerys would have reacted to the crown losing the right to claim Harrenhal.

It was safer to wait for Prince Rhaegar to take the throne, but the “Silver Prince” was dead, and a Stag now ruled the Seven Kingdoms.

I missed them already, it’s nearly three weeks from Harrenhal to Kings Landing, and every day I grow more worried that something could have befallen them in my absence. The journey alone had taken a heavy toll on me, there would be no second trip if I was rebuffed.

My body was simply too old for the strains of long travels. I wonder how many years this trip will cost me before it’s over.

I’ll make the trade, thinking about the first time I had seen those swirling violet eyes looking up at me from Shella’s arms, the laughter he brought the once dreary halls…it’s an easy choice.

“With luck, I’ll not need to take much of your time my Lord Hand. I’m not sure if word of my houses’ fortune ever reached the Red Keep, but a son was born to me some years back.”

His silence is telling. No congratulations or well wishes, he knows why I’m here, and he’s already decided his answer.

“I take it that since your wife Lady Shella is past childbearing age, that the boy is of bastard birth.” It was not a question, Jon Arryn is only two decades younger than myself, but I can see in his eyes that the Office of Hand is doing a fair job of catching him up before his time.

“Yes, I’ve come to request that due to the situation of my house. I've come to petition for my son to be legitimized, so that I might make him my heir. I had intended to make the same request of the Mad King for the last 3 years, but I worried how his insanity might influence him.”

Jon runs his hand over his brow, any foolish hopes he might have had about me making this easy on him, likely just evaporated.

“As you are no doubt aware, the King has only just recently ascended to his throne. While no one questions the legitimacy of his reign, the legitimizing of bastards always ruffles the other houses in the kingdoms. I would request, that in the best interest of stability, that we revisit this again in a few years’ time.”

The hard look in his eyes tells me this wasn’t up for discussion, his reasons, are at best, half-truths. Honestly, I suspect he just doesn’t want to have to face the King with anything that could set Robert off into a rage. I imagine that “Whent” and “Harrenhal” are only behind “Targaryen” in subjects that send the King into a fury.

“While the offer is gracious, and I do of course understand the need for stability in the realm. I would remind you Lord Hand, that several bastards throughout Dorne have been legitimized over the last year. I fail to see why one more in the Riverlands would cause a great deal more trouble.”

We both knew the king had only agreed to that because he needed Dorne pacified, despite having killed several members of the Doran Martell’s family. Only that wasn’t an answer that John could give, and the irritation in his features tells me he knows it.

“I’m afraid I have given my final answer on the subject, Lord Whent.” Lord Arryn’s all but glaring at me now, seemingly challenging me to argue further. I only have a few years left to me, time to spend them wisely.

“Lord Hand, as you said before, the Kings reign is new and precarious.” Lord Arryn’s shoulders tense, his eyes narrow, it seems he’s picked up the change in the conversation. Nothing from here on out would be even passingly friendly, I wonder if he thought being married to my niece would stop the conversation from devolving into threats.

“I fought for the king in the rebellion, and I must admit that I find it strange that such loyalty is rewarded by allowing one of his loyal vassal houses to die out when stopping it from happening costs him nothing more than a moment of his time. If this is how he rewards loyal allies, I wonder how secure his onetime enemies must feel.”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

There was nothing veiled about that threat, it was common knowledge that Robert still hated the Reach and Dorne. Many of the lords there were still worried that the King would strip them of their lands and titles in a fit of pique.

The rumors coming out of Kings Landing concerning his behavior after ascending to the throne were also…troubling.

There were whispers of King’s grief over the loss of Lyanna Stark had left him unfit to rule, only Lord Arryn and his efforts to control the damage had left Robert with some sense of credibility. Word of the King’s “betrayal” of a river lord that fought for him, and over a petty grudge no less, would put that good faith Jon Arryn had preserved into question.

“Those are dangerous words Lord Whent, I’m sure I simply miss interpreted them due to fatigue.” Jon’s hands shook, it was impressive really, I half expected him to call the guards. The whole of the realm knew Jon Arryn loved the King like a son, to him, this must feel like I’m threatening the safety of his family.

I suppose I am.

“It would be a shame if word of such things were to be sent to every seat from the Arbor to the Wall, that would be an awful lot of trouble, over such a small boy.”

“You are playing a dangerous game Lord Whent, why shouldn’t I simply have you thrown in a black cell for treason against the crown.” Lord Arryn was very nearly yelling now, his straining control slipping.

“Because it wouldn’t change the outcome, did you think I came here without knowing the hate the King has for my family?” I stood now, Lord Arryn mirrored my movements, my hands behind my back, his fisted on the hardwood of the desk.

“I had the messages finished before I even left Harrenhal, if I do not arrive home before the month is out, the messages will be sent. Whether I have my head or not won’t matter, the damage will still be done.”

Jon’s eyes studied me, trying to weigh the truth. Unfortunately for him, I hadn’t been telling lies. I wasn’t foolish enough to walk in here without insurance, the King’s hate of my family was too unreasoning. He’d never do my house a kindness.

Not unless I had a knife to his throat.

I could see as Lord Arryn’s shoulders slumped; running his hands over his face as he fought for calm. “I will have the documents sent to you at your inn in three days’ time.” He looks to me now, his eyes cold and bitter about the situation I’ve forced him into, “You have only a few years left to you Lord Whent, I suggest you spend them enjoying your new family inside of the Riverlands.”

A slight bow agreement and it’s done, he doesn’t bother to hide his scowl as he motions for me to leave. I nod politely to the young squire on the way out, he looks at me with dawning horror.

I suppose he’s never seen someone so openly threaten the Hand of the King, not and live in any case.

There was a price, of course, I recognize the threat tacked to the end. The Hand had unofficially exiled me from court, a small price to pay overall. The King’s response gave me pause however, I can only hope Lord Arryn doesn’t tell him how the bargain was struck.

No, I can be certain that Jon won’t. Robert’s temper would demand retaliation to any threat, and the King’s reputation couldn’t take any more damage so early on.

My house was safe, in bad standing with all elements of the crown, but still standing.

***

“It’s amazing how much can change in only nine years.”

Shella takes my hand and smiles for me. Oh Shella, my strong brave Shella. If it had been her lying here, I wouldn’t have had the strength to give such comfort.

These last few years feel like a cruel illusion, to have all the things I longed for, and yet so little time. My wife, no longer cold and distant. The warmth in her eyes when she looked at me or Harren was a sight to behold.

Harren…oh my poor boy, I didn’t mean to leave him behind like this. I wanted to see him grow into a man. I wanted to see him get knocked on his ass when he first took up the sword, and the pride in his eyes when got to see his first victory. To see him fall in love, take a wife, and start a family.

I would never see him become a man, but I could at least hope that Shella would stay by his side a while still.

I shifted uneasily as my body shook with pain…it would not be long now.

Maester Tothmure had seen to me as best he could, but there was no cure for old age. All those years I spent with nothing to live for, and now that I have every reason to remain, my body fails me.

“Harren” I called to him from his corner of the room, sitting at the small table I used for letters when I didn’t feel like going to the study. He looked up from his book, the boy was always reading now, ever since Tothmure had started his lessons he’d taken to it like a bat to flight.

Me and Shella had told him what was happening, the lad was too smart not to notice my failing health. I explained as best I could, he was still only 9, there were some things he was just too young to understand.

I’d raised him in the Old Gods, the Seven had abandoned our family long ago. I told him the Old Gods were calling me back and that he shouldn’t be sad for me. He still cried every night, neither of them had really left the room in the last three days.

My sweet family; they refused to let me pass alone.

Harren left his book on the table, another of those heavy tomes out of that chest most likely. He made his way over to the bed and sat down next to me, his swirling violet eyes never meeting mine as he looked to his mother, I could see the tears falling again.

I reached slowly, taking his small hand into mine, “Harren, you will be Lord of Harrenhal now. Do you understand what that means?”

“Yes, papa.”

His little head bobbed in acknowledgment, his loose pale strands going every which way as he did. The little crack in his voice almost had me weeping along, “My brave little bat.”

Shella shifted next to Harren, wrapping an arm around him and taking my hand with the other. I gave my best smile for her, the one she said made her fall in love with a fool like me in the first place. The one that managed to make her fall in love with me all over again in these last few years.

The world around me had started to blur around the edges, my body tingled as it started to grow numb.

“You’ll watch your mother for me, won’t you? You know how she gets.” Shella rewarded me with a laugh that quickly turned into a sob before she could catch it…always so brave for everyone else.

“Yes, papa.”

He was crying full tilt now, his head buried in his mother’s shoulder. I couldn’t help but smile a bit at the scene. I had lived eighty-two years, longer than a man like me had a right to, and I was so sure I’d die alone and bitter.

Instead, I’m surrounded by people that love me. A wife too good for me, a son with a good heart and a strong mind. Yes, I could bear with passing like this.

“I love you”

I could feel as the last of my awareness started to fade away; had I said it aloud?

I hope I did. I hope I said it enough that if I hadn’t, they would have known it regardless.