Jon Arryn
The Hand of the King had been busy ruling the kingdom. He had also been tasked with arranging a nameday for Ned's servant, which deeply perplexed Jon. By now he was more than half certain the boy was Robert's, yet even then the king had shown more love and care for this particular bastard than for the others.
And now, now his king had called him to "watch the birds" with him, a flimsy excuse Robert had used since he was a boy whenever he wished to speak with Jon about matters of deep importance. From a common crystal , which Robert once believed to be a precious jewel, to boasting about the first time he had shared a bed with a woman, to speaking about his parents' passing, and lastly to share his sadness for Lyanna.
The door opened, cutting his thoughts short.
"Enter, Jon. And Barristan, make sure we are alone," ordered King Robert to the two men.
Both men greeted each other in passing.
Jon entered a simple room: two chairs facing a small inner garden and a polished silver mirror. A room meant for ladies to check their attire, observe the gardens, and watch the birds.
Inside was Robert.
A Robert who looked, surprisingly…
"Are you sober, my king?" he asked doubtfully.
Robert rolled his eyes at him.
"Unfortunately. We better speak faster or I will throw that rose out of the vase and drown myself in its water—" Robert pointed for Jon to sit in front of him. "—so, you read Ned's letter?"
Jon nodded.
"A king beyond the Wall and a possible new settlement for the wildlings. Yes, deeply disturbing news indeed."
"What do you say? Rally my men to conquer those wildlings? Ram my hammer against a skull once again for my kingdom?" offered a boisterous Robert.
Jon sighed.
"I am afraid that—"
"'We can't do it, Robert, this is your kingdom.' Yes, I figured it. But none of the snakes around here will help Ned up there. A bunch of flowery words and a big go fuck yourself will be all that they will give him" Robert said, and Jon could do little but agree.
Tensions were high. Political unrest was rising. They were signs that summer was finally ending, which would bring hunger and famine to the kingdoms.
Jon looked at the king, then looked at himself in the mirror. Stress lines had begun to appear on his face, his hair was white as snow, and his sharp falcon eyes were losing their sharpness.
He observed the king. Long ago were the days when a boisterous stag ran wildly trying to catch a falcon, only to fall and be helped by a young wolf.
Jon took a deep breath and kept his eyes on Robert's eyes. He had raised that boy, and he would be damned if he did not realize it.
"You have a plan, dare I say," added Jon, his falcon-like eyes searching deeply into Robert's.
The crowned stag met his gaze. Defiance, with a twinkle of mischief, adorned Robert's face.
"Let's send Selmy. We need a just cause. What better way than to give the kingdom something to unite once again? A common foe. In five years we will have war once again, and we will finally tie all the loose ends the previous one left," said Robert, bloodlust colliding with the heartfelt duty of helping a friend.
Jon took a moment to think.
Silence and contemplation filled the room.
"I noticed how your semblance recovers every time young Sebastian comes to visit. Welcome back Robert, and I will gladly follow your orders, my King" the old falcon offered.
Robert laughed, a warrior's laugh.
"But" said Jon, already contemplating the logistics that it would all entail.
"We will need to bring some men from the Vale and some from the Stormlands. Ser Barristan's absence will cause problems in your court, my king," Jon added, to which Robert agreed.
"Anything else?" Robert asked, now a little restless. The serious talk had happened and his throat itched with desire. Desire for a golden, bubbly, cold and refreshing liquid.
"Is Sebastian your bastard?" Jon finally asked, voicing a question whose answer had been quite perplexing to him. The rumors of him being a Snow were not plausible, but perhaps a Baratheon whose blood ran thin.
Robert laughed, a few tears escaping his eyes.
"No—" Robert said, trying to contain his laughter at Jon's confusion. "—remember the little kid in the Iron Islands? The leader of the thieves?"
The puzzle was finally completed in Jon's mind.
The kid. The leader of an orphan group in the Iron Islands, whose sabotage of ships and knowledge of the terrain had helped immensely during the Greyjoy rebellions.
How could he forget them?
Thanks to them, Quelon Greyjoy, previous self proclaimed King of the Iron Islands, had died. Most of his sons were dead, except young Theon, now Ned's ward, and Asha, still a small girl living on the islands. Victarion and Euron's whereabouts were unknown.
"Any news about the Iron Islands?" Jon asked, perplexed that he had forgotten them for a second.
"From what the brat told me, Aeron Greyjoy rules alongside the Harlaws from the shadows. They are keeping everything in check until the herald of their god appears once again, the girl grows up, or Ned's little ward returns," Robert said.
"Drowned God herald?" Jon said with a small laugh. Incredulity toward fanatics had always been necessary for a man like him.
Robert frowned.
"Their belief in the Drowned God died during the rebellion. The madman priest Aeron Greyjoy is now obsessed with the god who defeated the Drowned God, the God of Storms," added Robert.
Jon felt a headache forming. Fanatics were never to his liking. At least they had been keeping to themselves, and Lord Harlaw had been one of the few houses in the Iron Islands opposed to the Greyjoy rebellion.
"That explains young Sebastian. I am just wondering why you never told me about him," Jon asked.
Robert frowned, confusion in his eyes.
"I thought Ned had told you in his letters," Robert said.
So this mysterious young man had simply been the result of miscommunication.
Alas.
"So that is why you were so adamant about his nameday being celebrated?" Jon asked with a plain look on his face.
"Aye. The kid will hate it, hahahaha!" Robert laughed.
"And the visits to the brothels?" Jon asked.
"I need to show him the ropes. After all, he will finally be a man. What better way to celebrate it than by finally becoming one?" Robert explained with a smile, ignoring Jon's increasing irritation.
"Go, my king. Your Hand needs to clean the shit you left," Jon said dryly, with a spark of both annoyance and mischief.
Robert practically ran from the room to drink and whore once again
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A/N: I really like writing dialogue.