Jon XI
There were letters piled on Jon's writing desk - significant letters, for they spoke of the next generation of great lords. Jaime Lannister's twins, Cerwyn and Tommen were thriving without their father's presence and Lady Stark had given birth to a second son: Crejon Stark.
North and west were secure. The Reach's great houses were as fertile as their lands and Prince Doran's marriage was fruitful. Jon could sympathise with Hoster Tully's wish to see his brother and son wed and secure his line. Another Hightower marriage could put more pressure on the Tyrells or a Tyrell marriage to bring them back into favour...
He rose, tossing a paperweight onto the letters to hold them in place. Throwing open the window Jon felt the east wind against his face, fresh compared to air that had blown past the city. Almost like the winds around the Eyrie...
He couldn't concentrate today. How could he...
Lysa is with child!
Hope for an heir of his body warred with memories of past disappointments. Two wives, both much loved and yet no living children.
Will this be more grief or relief at last?
Then there was a shift in the wind and he could smell King's Landing again. "By the Gods. Robert must have a point. No wonder he took Alysanne to bear his children at Storm's End."
The idea caught at his mind. "...go back to the Eyrie." The Hand chuckled. "What was that Robert said years ago? Father a dozen little Arryns and make him foster them all?"
Jon didn't think Lysa would appreciate a dozen children but the thought of an heir being born in Eyrie appealed to him.
Going back to the desk he began sorting through the letters. While he and the clerks would have gone through it all whether the King was here or not, there was nothing there that he didn't think Robert could cope with. He'd come a long way from the rash boy Jon recalled from ten years ago. If he did go back to the Eyrie, the Seven Kingdoms would be in safe hands.
And I could do with the time in the Vale. The Mountain Clans are getting too confident and there are too many of my bannermen I haven't seen since last autumn.
The real question is... don't hide from this, if I walk away will I be able to return? Robert will need to appoint another Hand and there's no other Valeman in a position here since Corbray's death. I want to take some of Robert's ideas back to the Vale, keep us from being left behind, but without me here... would we find ourselves isolated politically?
He sat back in his chair and thought for a moment. There's no reason more Valemen couldn't be brought in. Perhaps.... yes, one of the Arryn's of Gulltown might do well to support the Master of Coin. We have enough trouble finding someone to suit there so perhaps someone with merchant ties would do well there. Sharra's husband Geord might do well there.
"Someone of more stature perhaps..." he mused out loud. "Lord Royce could well win a place in the Royal Guards if he wished... or perhaps his elder son might serve a while under the Master of Laws."
Reaching for some parchment, Jon started putting his thoughts in order for the letters required. It wasn't until he dipped quill to ink that he realised that he'd made his decision: while calling for the men he wanted to come to court would be a good idea in any case, he was also going to be selfish. Five - almost six years now - was long enough. It was time to put his own House first.
With his spare hand he added a fresh parchment to those in front of him. He'd be writing to Robert as well.
If Robert was to appoint a new Hand in time for Jon to take his family back to the Eyrie, he would have to start considering the appointment straight away.
Barristan IV
Lannisport hadn't changed greatly since Barristan had last been here. Despite the destruction wreaked by the Ironborn, the Westerlanders had rebuilt it almost entirely as it had been. Perhaps the idea was that in a year or two no one would be able to tell there had been any damage.
He would have liked to say that the reason he went to Lannisport, rather than home to his family, was merely that all ships were stopping there and he wanted to follow up on the idea of buying Dornish horses before next winter. But the news that the King would - in honour of the victory over the Greyjoys - host the annual Royal Tourney at Lannisport and that Tywin Lannister would be doubling all prizes...
Well. Ashara would know the reasons as well as he did. So he should just endeavour not to disappoint her.
"There's a great crowd," he observed to Willem Dustin. "Isn't it only the archery today?"
"I don't think most of the people here are expecting the archery to be exciting," the other northern lord told him. "But the King is knighting the men who caught his eye or that of the Princes and Lords Paramount during the war. Most of them will be jousting or in the melee..."
"So everyone wants to take their measure to know how to bet?"
"Exactly!"
"Well, it's not my first tourney," Barristan reminded the younger lord gently.
Out in front of the crowds, Robert Baratheon stood tall and proud as he knighted men from all around Westeros. Even scions of the grandest houses knelt to receive the accolade from his hands - Willas Tyrell was perhaps the highest born to kneel before the King's sword.
Not the highest born present, however. He was matched by Tyrion Lannister but when the little man came up to the dais he requested that his brother be allowed to knight him. Barristan's one time brother amongst the Kingsguard had therefore been called forwards and with a brilliant smile he tapped his sword upon the dwarf's shoulders, charging him to be brave and just, to defend the young and innocent and all the other oaths of knighthood.
Tywin Lannister's face was the same distant mask he'd worn as any other man was knighted.
Even the sons of two Lord Paramounts weren't quite the highest born though.
"Your pardon, cousin." Viserys Targaryen held up his hand as Robert lifted the sword. The boy's tone wasn't apologetic in the slightest. "With your permission, I would be knighted by another."
"You have my consent, but who do you have in mind?"
Viserys turned, scanning the crowd. Barristan saw violet eyes much like those of the boy's other relatives flicker. "Lord Barristan!"
"Oh? Well, very well then." The king stepped forwards. "Lord Selmy, if you would be willing, please join us here."
It would be hard to refuse and so Barristan moved out of the crowd and drew his sword, thinking back to Rhaegar's knighting, years ago. "Viserys Targaryen." He tapped the youngster on one shoulder. "In the name of the Warrior..." The familiar oath came from his oaths. What sort of knight was he making? Would he look back at this day and regret this?
Robert had been willing to knight him, so perhaps it would be alright. Then again, the Stag King could be fairly reckless, Barristan thought.
"Rise, Ser Viserys," he said at last and helped the young knight up to his feet.
"Please join us here for the rest of the ceremonies," the King requested. "After all, someone else might want to be knighted by Barristan the Bold."
He was right, in fact, and two more young men asked for the accolade from Barristan's hand rather than the King's. That wasn't the final disruption however.
"Sandor Clegane," called the herald, summoning the next future knight. Scions of the major houses had all been knighted and now it was men from knightly houses that were being called on.
But this time, despite the call, there was no response from inside the crowd.
"Sandor Clegane!"
Lord Lannister looked around irritably and then pointed into the crowd at a a man wearing the same heraldry on his tabard that the Mountain had worn. "Clegane!" he roared. "Come forwards, I say! And take your helm off!"
For a moment it seemed that the Clegane heir would defy Lord Lannister, but then the man forced his way through the crowd and stood before the dais. He unfastened his helm and removed it, revealing a face rendered a horror by terrible burns across the left side of his face.
There were gasps from those who hadn't seen the sight before. Even Robert seemed taken aback, but he gathered his wits quickly. "Lord Tywin speaks highly of your skill at arms," he said. "Will you accept knighthood from my hands?"
"No."
There was another stir. Barristan could see Tywin clenching his fists. In contrast, Robert remained calm. "That is your right," he answered. "I ask – and only ask, this is no command – if you would share your reasons."
In answer Clegane turned his face, further exposing the ruin that spread from his left jaw up to where an ear should have been. "This was a knight's work. A man honoured and feted around the kingdom. I know how empty knighthood is."
A smiled flickered at the king's lips. "You speak boldly and honestly, Lord Clegane. Does this knight still live?"
"No."
"Good." Robert leant forwards. "It is the men who make knighthood what it is, not knighthood the men. As an alternative to knighthood, I have another position that might suit you."
"The Royal Guards?" Tywin proposed.
"Actually," the king said drily, "It strikes me that the Master of Laws could do with a lieutenant of Lord Clegane's quality."