The Dragon Cub| Game Of Thrones

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Kings Landing 295 AC. (seventh moon).

Jon Arryn.

The more life got better the worst it got Jon Arryn was starting to believe, that and being Hand was a curse far more than it was a pleasure. He had no sooner resolved one problem, no sooner been able to put his feet up and rest so to speak, when he had received news which sent the Red Keep spiraling. That Ned Stark of all people would be the one to do such a thing was beyond him.

The details, the why, the justification for it were all secondary, for Jon the issues it raised were not. Firstly it was the fact that his former foster son was removing the one person who could have allowed for the faith to take hold, the one person who while she'd failed to convert Ned, had at least began the work with her children. Jon may have given up on being able to convert the North in his lifetime. But the hopes that it could be done after he was gone, rested on Catelyn Stark, no Catelyn Tully now, and her children.

That was now a distant memory with her being set aside, which led to the other issues it brought up, a very irritated wife who constantly looked to him to do something about the Northern Savage who shamed her sister. A queen who had grown ever more paranoid that Robert would decide that what his friend did, wasn't such a terrible idea after all. Not to mention a Goodbrother and sister who looked to him to right this wrong.

He had spent months dealing with this, with it in his thoughts, and once again his day started with it yet again, though quickly it seemed he'd be thinking of other things. Seeing the Grandmaester shuffle in he wondered what had brought the old fool to his door today, before he saw the scroll in his hand.

"My lord a raven." Pycelle said handing him the scroll bearing the Golden Rose of Highgarden.

As usual, Pycelle showed no signs of leaving, and for once Jon was more eager to read the scroll than to wait for the man to go. Opening it he began to read, soon sighing as he did so, knowing he'd need to speak to Robert and try to persuade him not to go to the damn thing.

"I thank you Grandmaester, I may have a response for you to send later on."

"As you say, Lord Hand." Pycelle said shuffling back up and taking an age to walk to the damn door, he looked at the scroll again, wondering and suspecting that they'd sent it to the entire realm.

Lord Mace and Lady Alerie Tyrell.

Do hereby invite His Grace, Her Grace, and their family,

And all those who would join them,

To the Tourney to celebrate

Their beloved daughter Margaery's two and ten Nameday.

Lord Mace Tyrell.

Warden of the South.

While a tourney at Highgarden would normally not be something Robert would care for, they had not held a proper tourney in Kings Landing for quite some time, so he knew the king would consider it more than he would normally. The idea of traveling, of getting out of the city, of drinking and whoring in a new place, would also no doubt interest the king.

The last thing he would want though is to go and sup with the damn roses and ever since their new arrangement with the Magister they no longer need their coin, which essentially was the only reason he'd deigned to have them in his presence anyway. Dealing with the fat oaf and the withered old rose was not something he cared for, to not have to deal with them at all made his days that much better.