13 In the Lion's Den

Jon Arryn was an old man, that he knew. He knew many things other than that as well. He knew how to rule the Mountains and the Vale, he knew the hearts and minds of his people, and he knew how to fight both in war and in battle. What he knew not, however, was what the seven had done to concoct a man such as Alistair, nor how that man had done what Jon himself had spent years attempting. For even though the war had certainly sharpened Robert's sense of responsibility just as Jon had hoped, there had happened more within the boy whom he had raised as a son than he could have ever guessed or hoped for when they parted ways.

Jon was not sure if the weight of war had hammered Robert into a shape fit for a leader of men, or if it was a compassion born from closeness with the common people who relied on him which had led to the changes, or even if it was wholly the doing of the Brightblade.

But no matter the case, Jon felt pride bloom within his chest as he watched Robert keep his effortless camaraderie with everyone he came across, yet be more temperate and controlled in his vices. He never drank till he went where his senses could not follow, nor did he whore every third night away as he once had. He looked after his men and his army with a diligence Jon had never seen from him, and trained himself every morning, and taught any soldier he came across if he knew how they could improve. 

He was not Ned, of course, for his vices still caused him to call on whores and drink with greed, and he still could not "count coppers" for too long before he had to stop, but he tried and was himself, and a version of himself that Jon was rather sure both Robert and Steffon could take pride in. And that was more than enough for Jon.

And with a good queen neither afraid of confronting him nor unloving, and a hand who could do what Robert could not, then Jon was sure that the Baratheon dynasty would have a good, mayhaps even great, start. And with Alistair practically already the unofficial hand of Robert to any who looked closely, half of that list was already dealt with.

But that was for the future. For now, he should rather seek out his other foster son before the boy was wed and made a man in truth rather than only in body. Hoster had angled for a double wedding, but with Denys alive and already groomed to rule, Jon saw no need to foist himself onto a young woman such as Lysa.

After all, Jon was an old man, that he knew.

Besides, there was no need to do so purely to continue a main line which was already an offshoot of an offshoot, and bring about confusion as to who was heir and who was not. No, Jon would have no children of his own who would grow old, but that was fine.

The door creaked as he pulled it open into Ned's rooms within Riverrun and stepped inside. Ned was standing quietly before a mirror, not terribly large, but fit for a temporary room. Jon felt pride swell within him as he looked at Ned within his wedding cloak, and although it would be hours yet before the wedding within the Godswood of Riverrun.

Ned's quiet was not unexpected to Jon but still, even the Quiet Wolf ought to be more lively on the day of his wedding.

"Is something the matter, Ned?"

Ned's gaze only briefly fell upon Jon, before his attention returned to himself in the polished silver of the mirror. He remained quiet for a moment, before speaking. 

"I am feel as though I am walking around the hollowed out husk of my brother. I stand in his place, waiting to wed his betrothed, with you in the place of Father, and Lyanna nowhere to be found. Robert and Howland wait to drink with me, rather than Kyle Royce, Elbert Arryn, and Jeffory Mallister who would have one and all waited eagerly to drink with Brandon. Now I wield Ice, I command the Banners, I sat in Winterfell at least for a time, and I wed the first born daughter, as though I was the first born son."

With any other young man, Jon would have assured him that he could both mourn those he lost, and feel good about the status of his new position. But Jon knew that Eddard wished for no part of it, that he would only ever take satisfaction in the work his position allowed him to accomplish, and never more.

"It must be difficult, I imagine. For even tough I do not know much of how it is to be thrust into a position which, had the gods been more merciful, should have never been yours, I can assure you that I know the pain of loosing one who was meant to be heir," Jon said as he smiled sadly at the man he had done a lot to raise.

"Still, I have only one piece of advice to give you, which may help you. Remember the love they held for you. Remember how much there was. Remember the pride they felt in you when you beat another boy in the yard when you were eight, or when you rode your first horse, or any number of other small accomplishments and achievements." 

Jon placed a hand on Neds shoulder, and turned him to meet his gaze properly. "Now, imagine the mountain of pride they would feel for all you have accomplished since their passing. For you have done much, Ned. You have led as well as many lords my own age, and you have fought as well as anyone could expect from a knight even if that is not your calling. And lastly, you have shown yourself loyal, honourable, and leal in the face of hardship," Jon smiled a genial smile, for even if he was no longer dashing, he could be kindly at least, "Ned, I dare say that with all of that, Westeros may have a new highest point, standing tall even above the Eeryie."

Ned's eyes grew moist, before he pulled Jon into a brisk but firm embrace. Then he returned to the mirror to straighten his doublet one final time, before nodding and turning away, his face once again his to command and set in stubborn stone.

Jon chuckled beneath his breath, but followed Ned out into to hall to find his other son, and begin preparing for the wedding. 

It did not take them long to find Robert, of course, as he collided with Ned as he swung open the door, causing Ned to mutter a quiet annoyed curse and straighten out his doublet yet again.

"Ah, Ned, there you are! I worried we'd run out of time if I didn't fetch you, and that you'd have to be wed completely sober, without even a mouthful of wine to give you fire in your belly and courage to be wed! Not a position I'd envy, I must admit," Robert said with a booming laugh, tankard of wine in hand as he entered. Jon smiled, happy to see Robert so joyous, and perhaps even more so happy to not see the flush of drink already in his cheeks. He truly was more temperate in his vices, Jon thought with pride.

Then he noticed Ned's still nerve wracked expression, and clearly thought to do something about it.

"Ah, there's what I worried about!" Robert said with a grin, pointing his finger near to Ned's stonily nervous and now annoyed face, "by the gods man, this is why they say men ought to try a girl at least once, so you don't mess around too badly when it counts. Now, I know that's not for you, but believe me when I say that wine is the closest thing to experience."

Ned scowled at Robert for three long moments. Then he snatched the tankard of wine, and gulped down a mouthful or two as Robert roared with laughter, and Jon himself chuckled. They really were close as brothers, he thought with a wistful smile as his laugh came to an end.

"Besides, what are you so concerned for? You're not the one walking into a the Lion's den with a cows leg strapped to your back. You're just trying one of life's greatest pleasures for the first time, and with a beautiful and kind bride no less," Robert continued, smile only faltering for a moment as he mentioned Alistair Albright, the legend forging itself swiftly before the eyes of all the Seven Kingdoms. 

Still, it was only a stray comment, and soon they returned to their preparations, and began to meander to the Godswood to begin the wedding in proper, they boys laughing and jesting all the while as Robert teased and japed, and Ned responded with his dry wit, if less than usual. Jon himself mostly watched the men he had long thought of as sons, and enjoyed the day in a time so sparse with enjoyable days.

Yet even so, he could not help but remember Robert's words, and the credence they held. The old lion had, after all, hungered for a Valyrian blade for quite some time. Jon only hoped that guest right and his status as envoy would protect the young man who had grown close to and changed Robert into who he now was.

But it did not matter. It would still be days before the Brightblade would even near Casterly Rock. That, at least, was certain.

Cersei had to admit that she was curious about the wedding of Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully. They had gotten the raven with news of the event some days ago, and it clearly was a desperate rush for an alliance, since it would be happening that very day, in the woods of all places, rather than in a properly beautiful sept, like the Sept of Baelor. She almost pitied the Tully woman, since clearly using the woods was an excuse derived from Stark's ancestry, rather than actual want. After all, even a Northern barbarian had to see how the order of a sept outshined some strange old tree and a forest, after living in the Vale for so long.

Though, it was probably also good in the eyes of all the other Northern wild men, that much she would grant them. 

Still not an excuse, though, since Father would certainly wed in either sea, cave, or forest if he so wished, and not one of his bannermen would speak a word against him, as was a proper level of fear between subject and ruler. He wouldn't, of course. He had too much dignity, and loved mother too dearly for that.

That curiosity was why she found herself lingering at one of the windows of the Rock and looking out over the bridge leading to the main entrance of the castle, and found her eye drawn to a figure crossing it. There was only one rider, but three horses, which she was rather sure was a difficult feat, especially without a lead connecting the horses. But she supposed the man atop the frontmost horse was more than up to the task, for what a man he was.

His hair was as though made of spun gold and braided sunshine, its lustre beneath the sun unearthly and nearly beyond human beauty as her own was. His eyes a blue so clear that even from where she lent against the railing above she could see it, and knew them to be sapphires to her emeralds.

He almost looked a Lannister, she absently thought, and soon a smirk made its way to her lips, beautiful as ever, and she thought of a highly entertaining rumour she could turn against the little monster. 

So started to saunter off to find her ladies in waiting and all the young heirs and sons brought to Casterly Rock when Father called his banners to share her thoughts, and before long word would reach the imp even isolated as he rightly was, because such was the weight she held here in her home.

The weight she ought to have in King's Landing and the Realm as well, she thought snidely, were it not for the Dornish harlot and her sandy- 

Well, nevermind. She would be queen, whether by Rhaegar's or Robert's side did not matter overly much, for that was what her father had promised her, and it was what she would have… After all, even the old fortune teller had known that, though the rest was nonsense meant to frighten her. The snippet around her ascension to queen was common knowledge that father would get what he desired, to lay claim to some shred of believability. 

She shook away the thoughts - without doing any such thing so that she might avoid breaking her mask of a perfect maiden even though she had already shared such with Jaime - and continued on her way. She had an all new insult to spread, after all.

Tywin did not know who had started the thrice damned rumour, but whoever did ought to pray they were not found. That, or pray for the ability to outrun his wrath and his dogs, because there were still yet rivers and mines within his lands. For though the dwarf was what he was, he was still a Lannister if barely, and Tywin would not accept to have his house be a laughing stock, as people jested that Albright was the Lannister, and the Dwarf an imposter. 

And yet, as Tywin sat upon his seat of power beneath the great lion's head wrought from stone, gold veins running all throughout, and between its paws where his throne sat as it had done since Lann had taken the rock, and looked down at the man walking through his doors to soon stand before him, he felt fury well within him. For there was basis in what had been said. 

The man looked a Lannister indeed, with only his eyes a tint off the proper green, yet with hair of gold and a face of beauty, and as Tywin recalled what he knew of the man, he felt a creeping anger at the knowledge that with proper shaping and moulding as a Lannister rather than as a baker, he could indeed have been hewn into a great Lannister.

Jaime was his heir, though, and would be one greater than Albright could ever hope to be once he was back in Tywin's grasp, and ready to be properly molded. All he needed was Jaime released from his oath of the Kingsguard, and he would get that, no matter which side won. 

Though, Tywin often thought that perhaps he need only point to the wretched, pathetic, mewling creature the king had become, and use that as well enough reason to argue that there was no longer a real king to guard.

But in the end, it mattered little what the man before him could have been. Because he was weak and far too soft in war and had no lands or real power outside of the ultimately temporary band of men he'd scrounged up, and perhaps the favour of a few lords.

The stories of both his deeds and friendships were, of course, overstated.

The only question was, what had he come for? Or rather, what had he come to offer, in exchange for Tywin's swords.

The man walked to stand before the stone lion throne of the rock, and bowed. Not deep enough to show desperation, as Tywin had thought the peasant man might even by mistake, but neither so shallow that it showed no deference to him as lord of the keep and the Westerlands.

He would speak now, that much was clear, and Tywin need consider his options as to what to do in response. He had three to pick and choose from, and it was only a matter of which would grant him power over their first meeting, and set the standard and tone for all future negotiations.

Tywin felt the urge to interrupt the man as he was speaking, and remind the man that he, the lord of the keep, had not given him leave to do so, but pushed it aside. He was not Aerys. He could control himself better than that, for even if it might fluster some men such as the petty lords who sought him out for favour or gold, Alistair seemed not one of those men, and should the man keep a cool head, and respond with continuous curtesy rather than anger of fluster, it would cast Tywin as a petty man, and a blind one as well for not seeing the actual balance of power between the two. No, that was not the path forwards.

Perhaps he should then let the man say his peace, and simply negotiate as equals, even if the thought galled Tywin? But… no, it set a precedent that was far too favourable to the rebellion, and worse yet, it took into account Alistair's steel of heart and temperament, but it forgot his inexperience. Even should he prove as charismatic as rumour stated, he was inexperienced in negotiation between nobles, and that had to be leveraged in Tywin's favour.

Perhaps…? Yes, Tywin thought, as he made his choice.

Alistair felt the heavy atmosphere of the throne room of the rock, as though draped in a shroud meant to muffle all signs of anything other than loyalty and fear of their lord, and knew by the slight whispers of the courtiers that this was not a state of anomaly. Alistair wondered how, and what he ought to do to break away from it, but not enough to be insulting. Because just as he could not sit before a flour merchant demurely as a baker, he just as well could treat Tywin as his lord.

Yet neither could he - as a baker - wait for the merchant to sit before him. No, they would sit together, or not at all.

Alistair knew he had been on the road for far too long to normally be presentable at court, which was probably why Tywin had asked him here immediately, but his perk of charisma ensured that he looked as good as it was physically possible for a man who had ridden through the night for days on end. Besides, he had grown far taller and more fit since he first got the perk, so many months ago on the road to storms end, and he knew he now appeared around twice and a two decimals as handsome as any average man, and had the presence to match.

He walked, not too quickly to seem forceful, to bow just enough in front of Tywin.

"Lord Lannister," Alistair began, and was quite satisfied with his decision to avoid water in the hours leading up to his arrival, as his voice had a certain slight rasp of thirst to it, to undermine Tywin as impatient for asking his appearance so soon. It was a good precedent to set, after all. But he also made sure to not go too deeply down the path of pity, as that would only make him seem weak, and tell the court what they already knew. That Tywin was a cruel man. 

So his voice was strong even under "Tywin's" cruelty, and his posture matched, as he continued to speak, "I have come to your holdfast to negotiate your entry into the alliance of the rebellion, in the hope that with your aid, perhaps further bloodshed will be averted as the Reach perhaps surrenders, and to make our victory certain."

Alistair Held Tywin's gaze as he spoke, and made it clear that Tywin's help was not needed, but without slighting the other lord so much that he would rather return to Aerys.

Tywin sat in silence then, as he stared down at Alistair, with a patient, waiting gaze like that of the beast of his crest.

It was a classic strategy, and with good reason, for it not only added power to whatever Tywin next said, but also gave him time to consider, which was especially valuable against someone as unknown as he was.

Even more valuable was the snowball effect that came when the silences had the correct rhythm and weight each time, as each successful silence would weaken Alistair's ethos, and cast doubt on all his future words.

Which meant that it had to be snuffed out, before it took hold.

So, Alistair did something which, perhaps, was too bold, but had to be done.

He tilted his head ever so slightly backwards and to the side, to make it clear that he wished to look down on Tywin but did not do so out of decency or pity, and slowly, ever so slowly, raised his eyebrow in challenge to Tywin's silence.

Now it was only a matter of whose personality held more weight. Would Tywin's reputation and the fear it invoked, and his presence of authority upon the throne - weakened as both were by him sitting out the war to this point, and the years long mockery by the king - win out, and cause Alistair to appear as impatient and arrogant? Or would Alistair's sheer force of "natural" charisma and reputation as an exalted swordsman and war hero, and the tales of his honour break Tywin's hold of fear at least for a moment, and gain Alistair the leverage he needed?

Alistair was not certain and did not know, but held firm, even as a quiet gasp or two sounded out within the silent hall. Alistair fought the urge to smirk, at the slight weakening of Tywin's iron fist which such a sound showed. A smirk would be far too much for the current stage.

Negotiations had certainly begun.

A/N: So, it has been some time, I admit, and that was mostly because… I wanted to do other things more. Yeah, that's pretty much the sum total of my reasoning. 

Oh and just, to be clear, I will not go through all the negotiations like I just did, I'm not even sure I like what I did write about these negotiations, nevermind the rest, but I thought it was sort of important to set the standard for how this would go, so that it can be glossed over later. Oh, and, fair warning, but we're "nearing" the end of what I'll be writing. I'm thinking, like, 22 chapters, tops. Probably less. There might be like, oneshots or whatever added later about how things go after the end of the war, and most certainly an epilogue, but that's pretty much it. Also, I'm not sure who Alistair should end up with, because… eh, not the focus, but he could end up with someone, so if you have any suggestions, go for it.