Jon Arryn POV
"My lord, he is smart for his age, your son," Yohn Royce said.
"He's always been like this. And with swords, he's even better, but I fear his skill and status have gone to his head." I sighed, gesturing to the chair opposite. "Come, take a seat."
Yohn settled across the table.
"Failure is the only thing that could bring him back to the ground. A loss in the tourney's archery competition might be exactly what he needs."
"Would you like some wine?" I asked. It was good to see an old friend after so long, and wine with one was a feeling words couldn't describe. "We do have your favorite Dornish red," I added with a small smile, remembering our younger days as I handed him the cup.
"Aye, that would do." Yohn poured himself a measure and took a sip, a faint smile creeping onto his face. "It's been a while since I tasted this."
"Dornish wine is one of the finest in existence," I commented.
"That it is." He took another sip. "May I ask, my lord, what was so urgent that you sent a raven and called me here?"
"There is a favor I need, my friend. That's why I told you to mask your intentions for coming to King's Landing—as if you were here for the tourney."
"It's about my son," I said quietly.
"He's a good lad," Yohn commented with a hint of a smile.
I'm not so sure about the 'good lad' part. Smart, yes. Brave and honorable? Not much.
It would have been good if he was like Ned. But this idiot son of mine is arrogant, greedy, and stupid. I could only hope Yohn would instill some sense of honor in him, make him more like Ned.
One thing I knew for certain: when he grew up, with his innate talent, he'd be one of the finest swordsmen in the realm maybe even a master archer and he'd stand tall among the high lords of Westeros. But first, he had to learn honor.
"What about his archery skills? The tournament is in two days," Yohn asked.
"I've lost hope on that. We should be satisfied with one Valyrian steel sword. He's a good archer. I've seen him practice myself but to compete against men who've trained for years? No. He still has a long way to go."
"My lord, if I may," Yohn began.
"Go on," I said. I already knew what he was about to say.
"When I came to King's Landing..." Yohn spoke cautiously.
"Yes, I live here," I admitted. "This city is a viper's nest of backstabbers and cutthroats. The Lannisters, in particular, are trying to increase their influence everywhere. So far, I've kept them in check, but with these new debts to Casterly Rock... it's growing tougher every day."
"No, my lord, it's something else." Yohn hesitated. "As you know, I accompanied the young lord to Blackwater Rush. The Kingslayer came by right after we dealt with the smugglers. Your son and the Kingslayer got into an argument, and he called him an oathbreaker."
"Oathbreaker..." I smirked. "This boy has a sharp tongue."
"He sure does," Yohn confirmed. "But the Lannister seemed to hold an old grudge against him."
"Lord Royce, I have a favor to ask," I said, lowering my voice. "It's important."
"Name it, my lord," he replied.
"I plan to send Artys back to the Vale. This city isn't safe. With all this Valyrian sword mess, the Lannisters are already angry. My son needs to learn how to be a proper nobleman and must learn to rule without getting caught up in the politics of King's Landing."
"The Lannisters wouldn't dare harm your son," Yohn said, his tone suggesting this was absolute truth.
"I do not think so," I replied quietly, the knowledge chilling my resolve. "I won't trust my son's life to these child killers. They might not kill him openly, but assassins? Poison? Yes. Thank the gods he recovered from that Essosi disease, the one Grand Maester Pycelle thought impossible to cure."
I had already lost hope for Artys and even thought about naming Robin my heir.
Lysa was thrilled, though she hid it later. It was expected of her; her son was second in line and would inherit nothing. But if Artys had died, Robin would have become heir to the Eyrie. Yet fate had different plans.
"About Grand Maester Pycelle, my son Rober was there when he came to check on the boy's health. He didn't seem too pleased with your son's recovery," Yohn said.
Pycelle. What would he gain from my son's death? This city was filled with such people. I needed to send Artys away as soon as possible; he'd be safe in the Vale.
"My son would be your ward until he comes of age. Help him, Lord Royce, and introduce him to the lords of the Vale," I asked Yohn.
"House Royce and I are honored, my lord. I give you my word. Your son will find no trouble in Runestone," Yohn assured me.
"No, Lord Royce. Artys will be raised in the Eyrie, not Runestone," I clarified. "I'm in King's Landing, and Lysa refuses to return to the Eyrie. I hope you will raise Artys there, oversee the Vale in my name, and teach my son how to rule."
"But you made my cousin Nestor High Steward four years ago and put him in charge of the day-to-day governance of the Vale when you became Hand," Yohn asked.
"That I did, and so far he's done a splendid job and will continue to. You will help him." At the time, keeping the Lannisters in line seemed manageable. I never expected my son to be this clever or to get into this much trouble with them. I'd hoped to keep him here a few more years, safe and close, before sending him back to the Eyrie. But it seemed that time had come sooner than expected.
"Nestor will still handle the daily affairs of the Vale; you would be overseeing it," I continued. "But my friend, you must focus on my son. You've spoken with him; what do you think of him?"
"He's certainly talented," Yohn said, smiling faintly. "Even at such a young age, he is politically sharp. He was trying to form good relations with me, but..."
"But you were able to see right through his little play," I cut in.
"He will learn," Yohn said with an assuring smile. "But it's unexpected of an Arryn to pull such a stunt."
"Blame his mother. He takes a lot after her, except for his one blue eye. He behaves and acts just like Rowena used to." I nodded, a hint of pride in my tone. "I still miss her. Pity the sickness took her, but I still have our son to remember her by. I will fulfill the promise she asked of me on her deathbed."
"And I have a feeling he might bring great change—perhaps even more than I ever could. But he has many flaws. He is greedy for money and fame, and doesn't care much for honor."
"Ah, the love of money, just like Lady Rowena was," Yohn observed.
"Aye, just like her, but she wasn't as greedy as this idiot son of mine," I said with a smile, taking another sip of wine.
"He is so stingy! He makes sure to save every coin of the allowance I give him. He's been like that since the day I gave him his first one."
"Are you sure?" Yohn laughed. "From what I remember, she used to count every penny in the treasury, and you had to ask her for pocket money."
"No, it was not like that," I defended myself.
"Liar." Yohn laughed harder.
"Alright, you win." Yohn's laughter grew louder. "Now, back off, you bronze boar!"
I noticed Yohn stop smiling, his face turning red with embarrassment.
"My lord, you swore! You said you would not use that word for me again," Yohn said nervously, a clear sign of his anger.
"That I did. But if I remember correctly, I swore I wouldn't call you 'bronze boar' again in front of others. In private, I made no such vow." I was enjoying this immensely; that's what he gets for trying to embarrass me.
"You are saying it again!" Yohn was getting more embarrassed. I think the memory of how he earned the name had just hit him.
"No one told you to touch the penis of a wild boar," I said, pointing at him. "I still remember during that hunt, we found you all dressed in your bronze armour, touching the penis of a wild boar."
"For the Seven's sake, I was ten!" Yohn defended himself.
"Age is no excuse to touch a penis, and that too of a boar while he was dying! Ha!" I laughed. It had been a while since I'd had this much fun since becoming Hand of the King.
"Alright, that is enough. Let's return to the topic," I decided, cutting the jest short. "Yohn, also make sure Artys frees those slaves he has acquired from Rowena's mother's family."
"Yes, my lord," Yohn agreed formally.
This was certainly an issue I needed to deal with before it became a big political problem. The honor of House Arryn must not be questioned by anyone.
"There are too many dangers in this city; the number of spies are far more than the number of whores, Lord Royce." I told Yohn about the situation here in King's Landing.
"That's King's Landing for you," Yohn replied, a grim nod acknowledging the truth. "The center of politics and of every vile plot in the entire realm."
"Tell me, how are things in the Vale?"
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