Before Jon could announce for the small council meeting to begin, an argument had already erupted between the enigmatic Lord Varys and even more surprisingly, Grand Maester Pycelle. Both were already seated in their respective places around the council table before Jon even arrived; at least their quarrel was more quiet and had no chance of reaching bloodshed with one being a eunuch and the other a frail, old maester.

"My lords," said Jon, taking his place on the right of the king's seat. "Please cease this bickering. If it concerns matters of state, at least wait until all the council members are present." He glanced at the spot to his right. His hopes of King Robert Baratheon sitting there had diminished significantly. With the love of his life dead and Ned far away in the isolated north, chances of convincing the Baratheon king to attend council meetings had only grown more difficult.

"Is there something amiss my lord Hand?" asked Varys mildly.

Jon shook his head. "I wondered if the king would join us today."

The Master of Whisperers rubbed his soft white hands together. "I'm afraid you will be quite disappointed, my lord. My little birds have told me that His Grace had left early in the morning on a hunting trip with only a select few in his company. Of his depleted Kingsguard, I believe it was Ser Barristan the Bold who went with him. It seemed that His Grace mistrusts Ser Jaime Lannister." For good reason too. Ser Jaime was not called the Kingslayer for naught.

Grand Maester Pycelle cleared his throat. "It would've been much safer for His Grace to have had Ser Jaime at his side," he said with a slight frown. He stroked his long, snowy white beard. "Ser Barristan is a great warrior yes, but he is not…as young and robust as he used to be. He'd been injured in the war too. What if assassins were to attack the king during his hunt and Ser Barristan is incapacitated?"

"His Grace might be in more danger with the Kingslayer at his side than from a squad of assassins Grand Maester," Lord Varys retorted. "Odd that some still believe the proud lions are kings of the forests rather than stags."

"What is this about kings of the forests?" To Jon's relief, Lord Hoster Tully and Kevan Lannister entered. It was Ser Kevan who inquired about the kings of the forests.

"Nothing Ser Kevan," responded Varys, the Grand Maester mumbling in agreement. "I see you are in good health today. It must be shocking to have the blood of innocent little girls and babies staining your House, Ser Kevan." The Lannister knight ignored him, his green eyes revealing nothing. The Lannister features ran strong in the family it seemed. When Jon greeted him, he could not help but think of a slightly younger Tywin Lannister, the only difference being Ser Kevan more portly around the waist than his brother and he seemed to have kinder eyes.

Ser Barristan walked in and was followed by Lord Stannis Baratheon, the new Master of Ships. Jon was pleased to note that the middle Baratheon brother was in much better spirits than he was the last time he saw him. Lord Stannis should smile more. If Robert dies say tomorrow, Stannis will be the next king. The people will not like a gloomy king. At least the Lord of Storm's End had ceased scowling.

"My brother the king had gone hunting," Stannis informed the small council.

"Thank you my lord Baratheon," said Varys, smiling indulgently at him as if he was a favoured nephew. "I had already told it to Lord Arryn."

"There is no harm in Lord Baratheon mentioning it," spoke Jon. "Now that everyone is present, let us discuss the most vital matters of state."

Ser Barristan nodded. "Indeed my lord. The Kingsguard needs more members. Strong and just knights who deserve the white cloak." He glanced covertly at Ser Kevan who'd remained silent – or perhaps in thought? "It is quite disappointing that the Blackfish had refused the honour," he went on, shaking his head with regret. "He would have made an excellent addition in the Kingsguard."

"Must we discuss the Kingsguard without the king present?" inquired Varys.

"All we must do is draw up a list of potential candidates," Jon told him, "and at a later time, preferably soon though, the king and Ser Barristan will confer their choices."

"Forgive me my lord Hand, but you think the matter of the Kingsguard is of more ah, importance than say, Dorne?"

Jon looked around at the other council members. Both Lords Hoster and Stannis and Ser Kevan seemed more inclined to discuss Dorne. "Very well," said Jon at last. "We will turn our attention to Dorne; we will speak more of the Kingsguard once we decide what to do about Dorne." Ser Barristan nodded.

"It is Prince Oberyn we should concern ourselves with, not Prince Doran," spoke Lord Hoster. "He is a rather hot-tempered young man. He will not rest until he has revenge on the deaths of his sister, uncle, niece and nephew."

Varys giggled. "It should be both Dornish princes we should worry about my lords. It is my belief that as much as our hot-headed Prince Oberyn can rant and rage and swear vengeance, he cannot act without the permission of his brother Prince Doran. We must not forget that it is Doran Martell who is the Prince of Dorne."

"Has there been words of rebellion?" asked Lord Stannis.

"Not of yet my lord Baratheon. A few have fluttered to the ears of my little birds, but I do not think it is serious. Prince Oberyn's words were more like the words of a furious, protective older brother."

"Must those words border on treason?"

"You lost your parents to the sea," said Jon quietly. "Prince Oberyn lost his loved ones too. He thinks more deaths will satisfy his desire for revenge. I do not know the man, but I understand his grief. All of Dorne is grieving for the deaths of Princess Elia Martell and her children. Once their anguish overflows…they will all call for blood."

"They have no allies," Lord Hoster pointed out. "Even if all of Dorne screams for blood and start a rebellion, they will have no allies and will be defeated in a few months at the earliest. What if they declare for a Targaryen king?"

"There are no Targaryens left," Ser Kevan reminded him. "The only Targaryen male is Viserys and he is in the black cells. Rhaella Targaryen may have escaped, but no one will support her. Last time a Targaryen woman declared herself queen, the Seven Kingdoms became a battleground. All our ancestors suffered greatly in that."

"We all know our history Ser Kevan," said Varys silkily.

"Our history?" Grand Maester Pycelle huffed disapprovingly.

"Prince Doran is a shrewd man," Jon spoke before Varys could reply. "Even though he might be persuaded to start an uprising, he will be more keen for justice and peace. We must ensure Dorne remains in the fold. If they rise against the king, I have the faintest of suspicions that the Reach will join them. The Tyrells have been loyal to the Targaryens since the beginning. Though forgiven by our gracious king, they will snatch any chance to make a grab for more power." Lord Stannis nodded fervently, his blue eyes darkening at the mere mention of Tyrells. "However," Jon went on. "I have considered a method to subdue the Tyrells' greed for power – temporarily."

"Marriage?" guessed Ser Kevan.

Jon nodded. Stannis frowned. "I will not wed a Tyrell," he stated bluntly. "I will never call the Oaf of Highgarden my good-father."

"I have proposed a match between Mace Tyrell's younger sister Lady Mina and Lord Tully's heir, Ser Edmure," Jon continued. He looked at Lord Stannis. "I have no intention to allow a Tyrell to marry too closely to the Iron Throne. What good is there at all in the mere thought of rewarding one's enemy with a magnificent marriage? No Lord Stannis, even if you desire it, there will be no Tyrell bride for you."

Stannis nodded, satisfied. "They deserve to lose Highgarden," he muttered under his breath. Jon glanced at him. Oh yes, the Baratheon fury was in him. Not as obvious as the king's, but it was there.

"Will you agree to the union?" Ser Kevan asked Lord Hoster.

"Yes," Lord Hoster answered. "It is a fine match."

Grand Maester Pycelle frowned and coughed. "Lord Hand, to control Highgarden and the rest of the Reach, it must be a strong House that-"

"There will be peace," Jon cut in sharply. "The Tyrells know they are defeated. If they do rise against the king, they will find themselves against Houses Baratheon, Stark, Tully, Arryn and Lannister. Though a fool, Mace Tyrell will be aware that his future – and that of his House – will be grim if he so foolishly decides to rebel."

"Perhaps we should frighten Highgarden into total submission?" Varys suggested. "It was said that there are many more noble Houses in the Reach that deserve Highgarden more than House Tyrell, House Florent being one."

"The Florents?" Ser Kevan snorted. "You jest Lord Varys."

The Master of Whisperers smiled and spread his hands mysteriously. "There'd never been good relations between Houses Tyrell and Florent."

Lord Hoster nodded slowly. "I heard their enmity rose again when one of the Lords of Highgarden refused to wed a Florent, choosing to marry an Oakheart or a Crane instead. It reminds me of the Blackwood-Bracken feud."

"I suspect the Blackwood-Bracken feud occurred since the dawn of time," Lord Varys chuckled. "Much worse than the Florent-Tyrell feud do you not think?"

"Now that the matter of the Reach is sorted, can we return to Dorne?" inquired Jon. "I believe we were discussing Dorne earlier?"

"You say all Prince Doran wishes for is justice," said Stannis thoughtfully. "Wouldn't it save time and resources if we serve them justice? All we must do is send him the heads of those who murdered his sister and her children. I am confident my brother will agree to it readily my lord Hand."

"That may be the case Lord Baratheon," said Ser Kevan hesitantly, "but I do not think my own brother, Lord Tywin, will relinquish two of his most um, trusted men. It was…a war, Lord Baratheon. I understand Princes Doran and Oberyn's want for justice, but this is the beginning of a new era, Lord Baratheon. Your House is the new royal House – will His Grace arrest Sers Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch for killing some of the remaining members of the previous royal family?"

"I'd be careful if I were you," said Lord Stannis icily, glowering at Ser Kevan. "Though it was a war, you do not murder innocent women and children."

"Lord Baratheon is right," spoke Jon. "Ser Kevan, your brother will be obliged to hand Sers Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch over for them to pay for their crimes. It's indeed a new era with a new royal House, but those who have committed dreadful crimes in the previous year must still pay. They cannot escape justice. I will speak more about it with the king once he returns from his hunt."

"Lord Tywin will not be pleased," remarked Ser Kevan.

Jon frowned at him. The Lannisters thought too highly of themselves. Earlier he had considered a Lannister queen…the idea was less appealing now. "Lord Tywin is still one of the king's subjects," he said coldly. "When I leave for Dorne to broker a hopefully long lasting peace with Prince Doran, I will have the two criminals – or more like their heads – with me. We will talk no more about it Ser Kevan."

Varys coughed softly like a delicate flower. "My lord Hand…you will go to Dorne? My lord, is that wise? Why not send a trusted man to negotiate with Prince Doran? You are needed here at King's Landing."

The Lord of the Eyrie arched an eyebrow. "I didn't know I'm needed so soon," he said with a the faintest traces of cynicism. "I'm certain the small council can continue to solve the realm's problems for a few weeks without me."

"When will you leave my lord?" Lord Stannis wanted to know.

"Soon," Jon replied. "I will send a raven to Prince Doran once this meeting is over and wait for his response. If he does not reply in a fortnight, I will set off to Dorne regardless of his wishes. Peace will be achieved before the end of the month." He stood up. "Forgive me Ser Barristan, but the matter of the Kingsguard must wait. If you are still impatient, I suggest you speak directly to the king."

Though his head ached of politics and worry, Jon could not resist a smile as he caught sight of Catelyn bouncing little Robert on her knee. Though they had only moved in two days ago, they both settled in without a fuss. The curtains were plain and there were no suitable objects of entertainment for a young lady and an infant – both Catelyn and their son had not uttered a word of complaint. Jon was grateful. He desired to be a caring and good husband and father, but so far the Seven had other plans. First the deaths of all his direct Arryn heirs and now the position of the King's Hand. When would he have time to sit and chat with Catelyn and little Robert?

"How was the meeting?" Catelyn asked.

"Bickering without much of a final result," Jon answered. He stood awkwardly. Would he ruin the perfect scene of mother and son? Catelyn noticed almost at once and waved for him to sit down beside her. Wordlessly, she handed little Robert to him and beamed as their son cooed with pleasure at being held by his father.

"Lady Waynwood came by," Catelyn told him. "She said she had something to sort out at Ironoaks and as much as she wished to stay, she must leave. Lady Waynwood plans to depart with the Royces." She paused, slightly hesitant. "Pray continue," Jon said, smiling at her encouragingly. "Lady Waynwood invited me and Robert to be her guests for a few days at Ironoaks," Catelyn continued uncertainly. "I told her I must consider it. I thought it best to ask you first." She looked at him anxiously.

"Do you wish to go?" questioned Jon.

"Lady Waynwood had been so kind to me over the last few days…it would be rude if I decline her offer. Besides, she talked so much about her family that I desire to know her and her family more. There had always been a close relationship between our Houses – it is only fitting we know them better."

Jon nodded thoughtfully. His own late sister had wedded a Waynwood and birthed at least half a dozen Waynwood children. "I see no problem," he decided. "It might do both of you good to visit Ironoaks. It might even be time for the both of you to visit the Eyrie as well as meet my bannermen."

"Will you join us Jon?"

"I have duties here," said Jon apologetically. He wanted nothing more than to take his wife and child to the Eyrie and give them the grand tour of the Vale. If he was not Robert Baratheon's Hand, he would've whisked Catelyn and little Robert to the Vale the minute the war was over. The tiniest of unease wiggled in his gut. All the past Lords of the Eyrie had been born in the Vale…He shook the ridiculous idea from his mind. No. His son little Robert would be the next Lord of the Eyrie after him. "There is a chance I will depart for Dorne in a few weeks," Jon went on. "The council decided that to negotiate a long peace with Dorne, we must go to Sunspear in person. I will be going myself once Prince Doran sends a reply hopefully soon."

"Oh. Do you wish me to accompany you?"

Jon shook his head. "A kind offer Catelyn, but Dorne is still dangerous territory at the moment. Prince Doran will not harm you, but other Dornishmen…no, it'll be safer if you remain here or perhaps travel to the Vale." It was his turn to hesitate. "Catelyn…are you absolutely certain you want to go to the Vale with Lady Waynwood?"

"Yes?"

Jon frowned a little. "I do not think little Robert is ready to participate in long trips to the Vale yet. He is healthy, yes, but travelling…he could catch a cold on the way." He did not want to add the looming danger of the mountain clans. They were skilled enough to abduct one of his Waynwood nieces. If they got their hands on the Arryn heir…

"Surely the fresh air will be better than the stench of King's Landing for our growing son," Catelyn pointed out. "If it is our safety you are concerned about, I will be in Nestor Royce and Lady Waynwood's parties. They will have plenty of guards around them and I can always bring a squad of household guards with us."

"I will consider it," Jon said reluctantly. "When will the Royces leave?"

"In a day or two I believe."

"Indeed." Jon silently berated himself for his slowness. He had appointed Lord Nestor Royce his High Steward of the Vale only yesterday! "I will inform you of my decision at suppertime," he promised. "Now tell me, how is our son?"

"A healthy babe," said Catelyn, brightening up immediately. "Quite clever too. When I was at Riverrun, I had sewed him many little stuffed animals – to help him remember all the Great Houses when he is older – and brought them with me. I showed them to little Robert today and the blue falcon caught his fancy instantly! He is a proud little Arryn is he not?" She beamed at little Robert who smiled back happily.

"Pride costs you everything," said Jon solemnly. "I hope little Robert will grow up and be a fair, just and honourable Lord of the Eyrie."

"He will." She patted little Robert on the head. Little Robert crowed with delight. He'd leant forward and reached out towards her, squirming in Jon's arms. Jon chuckled. "Our dear son misses his mother already." He carefully deposited him onto Catelyn's lap and watched as she gave him a beautifully stitched stuffed falcon. He touched one of its blue wings. The material was soft and comfortable; perfect for a babe to play with. It was also a light shade of blue, almost identical to the blue on the Arryn sigil. His lady wife's great skills with the needle was astonishing. The memory of his own old, patched stuffed bird tugged his mind. Oh it was eons ago…His mother had not sewn him a new one either. If his memory was accurate, he owned his grandfather's stuffed falcon.

"Your needlework is exquisite," Jon praised. "All that detail! I haven't met a lady with skills such as yours before Catelyn." Catelyn blushed prettily. He liked it when that flush of pink rose in her cheeks. It reminded him of dawn in the mornings – his favourite time of the day. Sweet, youthful dawn would herald the sun and announce the start of a fresh, new day. With it, dawn brought glimmers of hope – who would not appreciate a dose of hope after a night of gloom?

"Go to the Vale," he said, smiling at her. "Take little Robert with you. Write to me and I will write to you. We can swap tales of our ah, adventures in our letters. When peace is accomplished, I might be able to join you." Highly unlikely but Catelyn didn't need to be aware of that. "If not at Ironoaks, then at the Eyrie."

"I look forward to it." Surprise stabbed Jon as he caught sight of elation and joy in her bright blue eyes. The last time he saw that was in the eyes of Robert and Ned…all those years ago before that dreaded tourney at Harrenhal. I will still love and care for them as much as I love and care for little Robert and Catelyn, he thought. Even though Ned's now a father of his own, I will still think him one of mine sons, Robert being another.

"Ensure our son stays warm," Jon advised. "It can get a little chilly in the Vale."

"Even in spring?"

"Even in spring," Jon confirmed, "especially in the early mornings. I'll tell Lord Nestor to take good care of you and our son."

Catelyn smiled. "Thank you Jon. You take care too," she added shyly. "I don't want to learn of your death by poison."

Jon chuckled. "I assure you my dear, I will not die by poisoning. I am old, but I am still able to wield a sword to defend myself. After that war, I will not be cut down by poison." He huffed and shook his head. "Oh no, poison will not murder me yet." The spicy and hot Dornish food might. His tongue tingled at the thought of it. Even in his youth, spicy food had never agreed with him – what little peppery cuisine he had tried.

His stomach lurched in complaint as he unhappily realised that to further reinforce a long peace with Dorne (and to be a good guest), he would be obliged to eat the spicy, hot food the Dornish loved so much. With most of his teeth gone, it would be difficult to eat a slice of flatbread wrapped around peppers and meat.

"Will Prince Doran agree to peace?"

Jon nodded almost confidently. "Aye Catelyn." He stood up. "I must go and arrange all the papers for tomorrow's meeting," he said abruptly. "I will see you at supper, yes? If I finish my business early, I might come and see you again."

Catelyn nodded, slightly startled but still bearing a pleasant smile. "Little Robert will love to spend more time with you," she told him. "Now more than ever as you'll be going to Dorne…soon." Jon nodded and began to walk away, unable to decide whether to tend to unread letters first or the meeting notes the Grand Maester carefully written down in immaculate, tiny writing. As he headed to the door, he saw a servant hovering nearby, a letter in hand.

"Can I help you?" he asked. The boy held out the letter. "I have been asked to give this to Lady Arryn milord," he mumbled. Jon frowned and shrugged it aside. Catelyn must've had many friends in the Riverlands; perhaps that was another letter from Ser Edmure. It would be…the fifth that week he believed. "Lady Arryn is inside," he informed the young boy. "You may give it to her."

The boy bobbed his head and muttered, "Milord," before darting inside. Jon looked at him for the final time and uttered a quiet word of surprise as he recognised the sigil on the back of the letter.

That was not a sigil from the Riverlands…it was from the Vale.

I'm glad you enjoyed reading the Lysa chapter :) In the future, not all the Lysa chapters will be about her hating Jon Snow (the next few might though). Any ideas are welcome :D