Chapter 3 1
Vale of Arryn. The Eyrie. 274-277 AC.
Elena Royce
After that unforgettable conversation with my father, my child and I were left in peace for two days. My brothers came to me and begged my forgiveness in every way they could think of. They said the whole thing had never been real and insisted that the vial had contained nothing but water. I believed them. But I know my father, and he would have killed Axel without a second thought. My brothers may well have believed they were acting in a play, but that does not make them innocent.
Some time later, my father summoned me to his solar and told me he intended to make me Lady of the Vale and his grandson heir to it. Jon Arryn already had a wife, Rowena Arryn. She was a good, gentle girl, a friend of mine, and my father's words fell on me like a sentence of death for her. But what undid me entirely was when he asked for my opinion. I knew it was wrong. I knew I ought to defend my friend's life. But I could not make a single word come out.
Back in my chambers I buried my face in a pillow and wept. It was a quiet, whimpering kind of grief, beneath the dignity of a lady, but I did not care. There was something foul sitting in my chest. That night I could not sleep. I threw myself out of bed more than once, meaning to go to my father and put an end to the whole plan. I knew he would listen to me. After our mother's death it had been I who helped him manage all the affairs of the castle and our lands. I was his counsel, and my opinion carried more weight with him than anyone else's.
I simply could not make myself go to him. On my final attempt, when I had gathered every last scrap of will and decency I possessed and set off toward his chambers with real resolve, my boy began to cry at the door. With that cry, everything else left me. Friendship, honor, nobility. None of it mattered anymore. I understood in that moment that I would do anything for his happiness. Commit the most wretched acts to protect him. It had to be done. And I would do whatever I deemed necessary for my child. For his wellbeing, Rowena Arryn had to die. After that, nothing troubled me, and I slept soundly.
Two months later, Lady Rowena Arryn died of a fever. Two months after that, at the start of 275 AC, I wed Lord Jon Arryn.
...
Elena watched the banners ripple in the wind: more than thirty banners of the Vale, a handful from the Riverlands, even one from the Stormlands, and the most honored of all, the Starks, led by Rickard Stark himself.
Her father took her hand and said with quiet reassurance:
"All will be well. We have seen to everything."
Elena nodded, thanked him for the first time since their quarrel, and the procession began to move.
Seven vows given, the wedding hymn sung.
In the sept her bridegroom, robed in a blue cloak pinned with a silver falcon, looked her straight in the eyes.
"My daughter," Robar said warmly, lifting her cloak from her shoulders, "I give you now into the protection of your husband..." and Lord Jon placed the Arryn cloak over Elena's.
"With this kiss I pledge you my love and take you for my lady and wife!" Jon's voice, strong and certain, rang the length of the sept.
"With this kiss I pledge you my love and take you for my lord and husband!" Elena answered proudly, lifting her chin.
Jon smiled and leaned down.
"Before the eyes of gods and men I hereby proclaim Jon of House Arryn and Elena of House Royce to be man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul! From this day until the end of their days, and cursed be the one who comes between them!" the septon proclaimed.
"Cursed be the one who comes between them!!!" the women present echoed back.
Now there was only the wedding feast to come. And on the days that followed, the tourneys.
And besides all that, there was the night.
...
Half a year had passed since the wedding. I was now styled the Lady of the Vale, Lady Arryn. Immediately after the wedding Jon had named Axel his son and heir. There was no shortage of displeased lords. "How can a child born before the marriage be heir? He is a bastard!" That was the cry from the thick-headed and the overly pious alike. It might have amounted to nothing, except that Elbert Arryn had previously been named Jon's heir, and when Jon changed his mind, the Belmores blustered and rattled their swords at every opportunity. But the alliance of the Arryns and the Royces crushed it at the root. The Belmores swallowed their pride but did not forget.
At the Eyrie the servants received me with caution, but they warmed in time. Axel they adored outright. I would often find maidservants playing with him of their own accord and entertaining him in every way they could devise. Jon too visited him at least once a day, wearing a constant smile. He had been guarded at first, but the day Axel said "papa," he walked around wearing the most gloriously foolish grin. And one could hardly fault him for it. Jon was no longer young and had made something close to peace with the idea that he would have no sons. That was part of why he loved his wards so dearly: Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark. But now, there in the cradle lay his son and heir, his legacy and the legacy of every generation of Arryns before him.