House of Arryn
12 AL – 13 AL
Sharra Arryn passed away in April of 12 AL. She passed away peacefully, in her sleep, at the age of 49. Too young, Ronnel had thought. She had been known across the Seven Kingdoms, and especially at King's Landing itself; her reputation made her like something from a legend. And yet now she was gone. Ronnel did his best to keep composure during the funeral, but when he and Valiete were alone, he broke down. His wife did her best to console him: stroking his hair, saying sweet and tender things to him. In the end, he had to simply let it out. His mother had passed away, and now, truly, he was a man, and the sole lord in charge of the Vale. He had lost his father when he was younger, and now he had lost his mother. He was on his own, and would have to rule without anyone guiding or training him.
Ronnel attempted to continue handling the affairs of state to get his mind off the loss. He appointed a new Master of Laws, having found someone who was very qualified for the position. His name was Ser Brogg of Darkcroft, and on top of being a knight and falconer (there was always a bird upon his shoulder), he was also masterfully skilled in the field of diplomacy. There was, however, much reservation in his court towards the appointment, and for a single reason: Ser Brogg was a mountain clansman by birth. The descendents of the First Men who had formerly inhabited the Vale, many Valemen saw the mountain clansmen as uncivilized brutes, infamous for raiding unwary traders and merchants going through the mountains. Ronnel, however, saw only the skill in Ser Brogg's life, and he found the appointment more than fitting for what he had in mind. Namely, he was sending his Master of Law to Winterfell, to increase relations with House Stark and the North. As the Starks (and indeed, most of the North) had close ties with the First Men, choosing another descendent of the First Men seemed logical. Ronnel's ultimate goal was to end the centuries upon centuries of hostility between the North and the Vale, and to open a new history of cooperation and peace between the two regions.
In October of that year, a note came from Highgarden, inviting Ronnel to the tournament being held there. Ronnel readily accepted, eager to enter another tourney and knowing that Valiete would be more than happy to see her home again. Because of the approaching winter snow, there was a fear that it would be impossible to move back through the mountains on the way back, but Ronnel had Ser Marwyn arrange to have a boat in King's Landing to transport them back and deliver them to the Vale by sea in case that should be an issue.
The royal family arrived in November, Valiete and the young Myranda included. As they approached the walls of Highgarden, Ronnel was simply amazed by what he saw. Even the awe he had felt as a young boy approaching King's Landing had paled in comparison to this. The walls and keep were pure white, and between them and around the walls Ronnel could make out lush fauna, from high trees to lovely gardens. Behind him was his caravan, with guards, personal courtiers, carts carrying their supplies, and the wheelhouse where Valiete and Myranda rode. It was decked in the colors of House Arryn, and bore the symbols of the Vale upon its sides.
They had sent a messenger ahead to alert Lord Owen Tyrell of their arrival, and sure enough, as soon as the Valemen were spotted, an honor guard appeared from the gates of Highgarden, riding out from its white walls. It was led by Lord Owen Tyrell himself, accompanied by Princess Valaena, his new wife. By her eye color and hair, there was no mistaking a Targaryen, let alone one from the line of King Aegon himself. As t hey drew near, Owen trotted ahead of his group, calmly saying to Ronnel:
“Well met, riders of the Vale, I hope that your journey here proceeded smoothly.”
“Well met, Lord Owen Tyrell!” Ronnel replied, leaning forward on his saddle. “Our journey proceeded smoothly enough. We just made it through the Bloody Gate before the snow fell.”
“Tell me,” Owen said, “is it true that my sister is amongst your ranks?" His dark green eyes began to glance about the caravan, looking for Valiete. At the sound of her name, Valiete peeked out of the wheelhouse, easily spotting her brother and smiling. Myranda peeked her little head out as well, spotting the honor guard that had come out to meet them.
“Is that Lord Owen?” the girl asked.
Ronnel turned and nodded to her, “Yes, Myranda, come and introduce yourself properly.”
Myranda leaped down from the wheelhouse and scampered over, pausing to stand up straight and then give a proper, obviously trained curtsey. “Lady Myranda Arryn, your lordships.”
Owen gave a hint of a grin towards his niece, giving her a dignified nod from his mount as he said in a kind voice, "You may call me Uncle, as it pleases you, my dear lady." Myranda ran back to Valiete, saying, “He said I could call him uncle, mother!” That caused Owen to smile a bit more. To Ronnel, Lord Tyrell asked, "It has been too long, my Lord. Tell me, how have you been in the years since we last parted?"
The caravan began to move out again. Valiete and Myranda had begun to head back to the wheelhouse, while Ronnel rode his horse out to ride alongside Owen and Valaena. "It has been well! As much as I loved King's Landing, it was wonderful to return to the Vale. Though I fear to say that my mother passed away, not too long ago."
Owen gave Ronnel a mild frown, saying, "I am sorry to hear of such ill fortune, though you are not alone. I fear my grandmother could not bear the burden of my brother's death any longer." He bowed his head a moment, his eyes diverting from Ronnel a moment before glancing back. With a motion of his hand that suggested he no longer wished to discuss the subject, Lord Tyrell said, "But, such sombre news is best served another time. Come, shall we venture within the castle walls? Surely you must allow me a small feast to be held for your arrival."
By now, Myranda had taken a good look at Lady Valaena, and Ronnel could hear her asking, "Mother, is that the dragon woman?" Valiete began to scold Myranda, lecturing her on court etiquette as the two went back into the wheelhouse. At that moment, it was unclear whether Valaena hadn't heard the remark, or had simply chosen not to react to it. Her purple eyes had flickered for a moment in Myranda's direction, then glanced back to Ronnel, who was snickering to himself and saying to Owen:
"I think that will be fine. We could use a good meal in our bellies." As they rode on, Ronnel added, "It gives me honor to tell you, Owen, that your sister has proved herself to be a wonderful wife, and a fitting Lady of the Eyrie."
"It pleases me to hear so,” Owen replied. “It has been many a year since I have seen her as well. Since your wedding, in fact. It brings me joy to know that my sister has been well."
"She is patient with me, and adjusting to life on the Eyrie...much different than the fields of the Reach, as you can imagine." Ronnel began to scan Highgarden as they drew even closer to it. “This is truly even more amazing to me than when I first laid eyes on King's Landing."
Valaena was riding her horse in a rather statuesque silence as Owen rode closer to her, nodding towards Ronnel, "The smallfolk say the walls of Highgarden were grown in place, rather than built. What say you, Lord Arryn?" He exchanged an amused look with Valaena before continuing, "Perhaps in time King's Landing shall be as lovely, but for now it is still being built." At this moment, the procession arrived before the outermost gate, its wall of white stone almost more ceremonial than for defense, with such a role left to the two innermost walls. More surprising to Ronnel, however, was what lay within this outer wall, for between it and the second wall is a thick maze of briar hedges. This did not get lost on the Eyrie lord, who commented:
"Oh my, I can only imagine you have children getting lost in here every day," He snickered, turning back to Owen, "I wish you could grow walls...his grace would probably have an easier time of it. Incidentally, I heard a rumor on the way here that his grace is going to attend this tourney?" Behind him, back at the wheelhouse, he could hear Myranda saying to Valiete, "Wow! Mother look!"
Suddenly, Valaena spoke up, "Indeed, my father is to attend. He may well participate, even." That thought seemed to bring some delight to the Targaryen princess some delight, and a wry smile grew across her lips.
"Oh?” Ronnel asked, “I am certain he will beat everyone in the tourney...including me, I am sorry to say. I cannot fair well even in tourneys back home."
That seemed to amuse Valaena, "Is that so? Well, my father only learned your Westerosi ways of jousting in these past few years. I suppose you were not taught?"
She shot Owen a smile, and he returned it with a nod, "His Grace did not partipate in tourneys until recently." He frowned a bit, then asked, "And yet...you have had no fortune in the lists, my Lord? None of your bannermen have aided you?"
Ronnel cleared his throat, "Well, some have tried, but...I am afraid I am not quite the warrior my father was." Myranda could still be heard commenting on their surroundings ("Mother, it's beautiful! You grew up here, yes? Are there knights everywhere?") Ronnel continued, "But you will forgive my lack of skill, Lord Owen. Tourneys are not quite as prominent in the Vale as they are in the Reach." He shrugged, smiling as he said jokingly, "Not enough room for them. Mountains, mountains every where..."
The procession turned this way and that, continuing in a dizzying path towards the second gate of Highgarden. Lord Tyrell remarked to Ronnel, "It is said that knighthood was truly born here in the Reach, it is not surprising that it does not flourish as greatly elsewhere." The Arryn lord saw a faint, but encouraging, smile grow over Owen's lips, and the Reach lord paramount said, "All the same, I wish you luck, my Lord."
The tournament continued through the next few months. Sadly, Ronnel found himself defeated on the lists of the first day, dismounted by one Ser Tyland Moreland, a knight of the Westerlands. However, he stayed in Highgarden long after that, to permit Valiete to stay with her family, and to continue to meet and talk with Lord Owen. Even more exciting was that Ronnel's old tutor, King Aegon himself, was doing quite well. In one bout, he faced Ser Runceford Wythers, one of Owen's own Reachmen. Ronnel was standing by the side of the wooden railing, watching quietly, with his six-year old daughter Myranda watching by his side. She seemed even more excited by this bout, and was hopping up and down on her legs with her arms poised, imitating Aegon as he rode down against Ser Runceford. With a crack, Aegon's lance shattered against Runceford's torso, knocking him clean off his horse. The crowd cheered, and Myranda leaped up and down excitedly, cheering for the king. Ronnel grinned and picked her up, letting her stand atop the highest part of the railing while he held her under the arms for stability. She waved eagerly as Aegon rode by, cheering, “Hip hip for the king! Hip hip for the king!” Not long after that, Aegon soon won the entire tourney.
After that, they made their way back to the Vale. The raven that flew from the Eyrie to Highgarden said that the mountain paths were still clear of snow, and so the caravan decided to try to return by land. As they stopped to rest one night, Ronnel was suddenly accosted by Valiete, who had stormed over to him and said:
“Please talk to your daughter! She has put it into her silly head that she wants to be a knight!”
“Has she?” Ronnel asked. “What gave her that idea?”
“The tourney. She said she wants to be as brave and noble as the king. Go and remind her that she is to be raised a proper lady of the court.”
Ronnel had to laugh a little as he made his way to the wheelhouse. He entered to find Myranda seated in a corner, waving a stitching needle about like a sword. She saw her father and smiled. Ronnel only smiled back and got up in the wheelhouse, taking a spot by her and saying:
“So...your mother has told me that you wish to be a knight?”
“Like the king!” Myranda said. “I want to ride in the tourneys! I want to knock Reachmen off their horses!”
Ronnel chuckled, “Knights do much more than that. But you should know, Myr-Myr, that it is very rare that any woman becomes a knight, let alone is trained as a squire. They are considered better served in courts than with a sword. How badly do you want to become one?”
“Very badly!” Myranda replied, looking up at her father with those big, childish eyes of her. He hated it when she did that. “I want to ride on a horse and look as dashing as the king! Didn't you serve the king, father? Why can't I become like the king! Is mommy mad at me because she couldn't squire with the king?”
Ronnel let out a sigh, “Myr-Myr, you should know that your mother was raised in a castle where women serve in the courts, and men serve in the jousts, and that was that. Where you and I are, it can be different at times, depending on the mettle of the woman. Your mother loves you, and simply wants you to receive the most proper education befitting one of her kinswomen.”
“But can I just try to be a knight? Just for a little?” Myranda continued looking at Ronnel with those eyes. “And if I don't like it, I can quit and do it mother's way. Is that fair?”
Ronnel let out a sigh, “Very well...we will try that. I'll arrange things when we arrive back home. You can tutor under Lord Eon Lynderly for a while.” He laughed as he poked his daughter's nose, “I have raised a Valeman with a mountain clansman's spirit, I see...” Myranda giggled and gave her father the biggest hug she had ever given him.
When he finally left the wheelhouse, Valiete greeted him not too far from it, “Well, did you tell her no?”
Ronnel cleared his throat, “Do you promise not to be upset with me forever...?”
Valiete could not keep that promise. However, she compromised by finally talking to Ronnel again when they reached the Bloody Gate.
As they arrived at the Gates of the Moon, Ronnel expected to settle in and get some rest after an entire day's worth of traveling through rocky terrain. Instead, he was greeted by a wide-eyed Ser Marwyn. In his hand was a crinkled piece of paper dangling from his fingers, as if he no longer wanted to hold onto it but knew he had to. He had greeted the lord paramount after the latter rode through the front gates on his horse, though he said absolutely nothing.
“Ser Marwyn?” Ronnel asked, slowly getting off his horse. “What is it? What's happened?”
“Your lordship,” Ser Marwyn began, lifting up the sheet of paper in his hands, “we received this message from Ser Brogg just this morning. It...it's from Winterfell.”
Ronnel walked over and took the paper from Ser Marwyn's hand, glancing at it. As he read it, he could not believe the words on the parchment. He read it several more times to make certain he had not gone crazy. Then he read it a few more times. Then he glanced to Valiete as she stepped out of the wheelhouse, and went back to the slip of paper, as if hoping the words would somehow magically change to something else, or he would notice something he had missed the first time he read it. But no...it was exactly as he read it...
“War? For what reason?” Ronnel asked.
“For a claim on Crow's Barrens,” Ser Marwyn replied, glancing away to direct his disbelieving stare elsewhere.
Ronnel found that response even more amazing than the first. Crow's Barrens was a small section of the Vale in the northwest, resting against the border with the Riverlands. It was hardly a piece of land to go to war over – even the Three Sisters carried far more historical significance between the North and Vale. What had come over Lord Stark that he would start a war over the Crow's Barrens?
At this point, Lord Eon was running into the courtyard, approaching Ser Marwyn and Lord Ronnel. Though now being sixty-years of age, he still had good health in him, and he was hardly out of breath when he arrived. Myranda, who was out of the wheelhouse now, beamed at the man she knew would be her future tutor, though he did not know this, and he had many other things on his mind right now.
“Your lordship!” Lord Eon began. “You know, I see. What do you want us to do? Shall I summon our levies?”
Ronnel thought a moment. And only a moment. He had wanted to be peaceful with the North, and temper hostilities that had existed between the two regions for centuries. This war threatened all that, and may cause him to raise his levies and launch an attack northward. Or...
“No,” Ronnel said, “don't raise the levies. Call no banners. Do not bother our soldiers or lords with this.”
Ser Marwyn and Lord Eon both shot Ronnel a nervous look.
“Ser Marwyn,” Ronnel began, standing a bit taller and look slightly less shocked than he had before, “I want you to have a raven sent to King's Landing. Inform his grace that the North has declared war, and that his former squire and ward humbly asks for him to intervene on our behalf, in the interest of peace in the kingdom.”
“At once, my lord,” the castellan replied, bowing slightly and turning to leave.
“Will he do so?” Lord Eon asked. “You tempt the gods by relying solely on his grace's heart. What if the North arrives on our shores before he can even respond?”
Ronnel smiled slightly and turned to his master-at-arms, “I know his grace, Lord Lynderly. He desires to have one kingdom, not several. He will not like having two pieces of the realm going to war over a petty piece of land.”
“And what if Lord Stark should not heed his grace's demands?”
The lord paramount chuckled softly, “I am certain Lord Stark does not desire to see happen to Winterfell what happened to Harrenhall.”
There was silence from the North and King's Landing for at least a month. Ronnel was adamant on not raising any levies, and assured his court that King Aegon would not allow any harm to befall the Vale. If the North or King's Landing had not received a raven about the war, certainly the rest of the realm had: Lord Paramount Owen Tyrell sent supplies and funds to Ronnel, should he have to supply an army to meet a Northron threat. Ronnel was greatly appreciative of it, and sent a raven back with thanks from him and his wife, Owen's sister.
Finally, at the end of a month, a raven flew from King's Landing. A month's worth of diplomacy had finally worked: Lord Stark had called off his war, on pressure from King Aegon. From what Ser Brogg told Ronnel via raven, Lord Paramount Orys Baratheon, who served as castellan for the king, had sent Lord Stark a message threatening to feed him to a dragon if he didn't immediately stand down. The war may have revealed that Lord Stark was rash, but his response to King's Landing showed he was at least not irrational.
Peace had been reached. Ronnel hoped that, in the near future, he could attempt to cement a more lasting peace between the North and Vale, and pursue his dream of ending the centuries of hostility. Though there was no possibility of that at the moment, he would continue searching for an answer.
Last edited:
