Amok In Ambers

It used to be the throne room for the kings of The Vale long ago.

An impressive, circular building with pillars of grandeur. To Joe, it felt like roman and renaissance architecture fucked and had a baby.

"You bring him here without permission? You pollute my home with his presence?"

Sitting above in the seat of Arryn was she: Lysa Arryn.

Having Tyrion in her home had gotten her worked up. She huffed and puffed as she glared down at her sister.

Tyrion and Joe stood beside Lady Catelyn. Tyrion was taking this seriously, but Joe. . .

He couldn't take his eyes off the ravenous boy suckling at Lysa's tit.

Robin Arryn. He had to be five years old, at least. . Watching it on the TV show was one thing, but actually being there was another.

Lysa Arryn looked down at her son suckling at her breast, "Your aunt has done a bad thing, Robin, a very bad thing. You remember her, don't you?"

Lysa Arryn spoke to her sister with pride, "Isn't he beautiful? And strong too. Jon knew it. His last words were, 'the seed is strong'. He wanted everyone to know what a good, strong boy his son would grow up to be. Look at him, the lord of all the Vale."

Tyrion had a perplexed expression as he looked at the young lad with breast milk around his mouth and dribbling off his chin.

['dfhdsfjdshf!'] Joe had to use all his willpower to keep it together and not die of cringe.

"Lysa," Lady Catelyn remained severe, "you wrote me about the Lannisters, warning me-."

"To stay away from them! Not to bring one here!"

Memories of childhood resurfaced in both their minds as the sisters glared at each other.

"Mommy," Robin Arryn said with innocence, "Is that the bad man?"

"It is."

"Heh, he's little."

"He's Tyrion, the Imp of House Lannister. He killed your father. He murdered the hand of the king!"

"Oh, did I kill him too?" Tyrion retorted, his Lannister eyes twinkling with intelligence, "I've been a *very* busy man."

That delivery was too smooth and charismatic.

"Pfft!" the air escaped Joe's lips with a quick breaking of character. For a split second, his face broke with amusement. However, before he could break into hysteria, Joe composed himself. Straightening his back and pokering his face. "Ahem. . ."

"You will watch your tongue!" Lysa Arryn spewed, "These men are Knights of the Vale. Every one of them loved Jon Arryn. Every one of them would die for me."

Joe had to admire Lysa Arryn's gall. Moreover, he had to admit that she was the more beautiful of the two sisters. Even still, Joe couldn't help but test the waters.

"And I'm sure every one of them would kill Jon Arryn's true murderer," Joe smiled, licking his front teeth, "if facts could prove he was here right now."

Then came the zinger, and at that moment, Lysa could feel a chill in the air, a whispering augury~

"Or *her.*" Joe finished.

Lysa Arryn scoffed as if disgusted, but Joe wagered it was because she was breathless. Tyrion's instincts started buzzing.

The silence lingered for a moment and more moments still. Finally, Tyrion broke the awkwardness.

"Besides," the sly dwarf said, ever confident in his only friend growing up, "If any harm comes to me, my brother, Jaime Lannister, will see to it that they *do* die for you."

Suddenly, and pathetically, in a naive sort of way. . , the young lord Robin Arryn erupted from his throne of Lysa Arryn's lap,

"You can't hurt us. No one can hurt us here. Tell him, mommy! Tell him!"

"Shh shh shh," hushed Lysa Arryn, pulling her son back to her lap, "my sweet boy. He's just trying to frighten us. Lannisters are all liars. No one will hurt my baby."

". . . Mommy," Robin Arryn said, seemingly decided, "I want to see the bad man fly."

Eyes rolled, "And I want you to shut the fuck up."

The biting words of Joe resounded in the great hall of Arryn like bouncing echoes of tough love.

This was followed by a chorus of murmurs from the court. And when Joe placed his hand on the hilt of Icebreaker, with his footsteps etching toward the steps that ascended to Robin Arryn, it seemed all hell would break loose.

The Shadowcat weirwood medallion swung brazen and defiant on its slim dark chain from the hilt of Icebreaker. The rose razor of ice felt like it was creating a cold in the room now, and the shuffles of armour followed — the Knights of the Vale tensing as they prepared against this danger.

Lady Catelyn couldn't believe her eyes. Tyrion was gobsmacked; what was Joe's play here? Bronn was leaning against a marble column, arms folded and smirking with anticipation.

"You said no one can hurt you here," continued Joe, his tone spiked with contempt, "That may have been true earlier today. But that all changed when you let a beast inside your castle. What will you do in the face of apex predator shit?"

Joe neared the steps that spiralled on the edges of the great hall toward the seat of Arryn.

"Stop him!" shouted Lysa Arryn, "I order you to seize him at once!"

The Knights of the Vale made their move as if they were trained canines.

It all happened so fast. Ser Rodrik felt compelled to do something, but he had not the quickness to do so. Lady Catelyn boiled with malting rage, and the irate sundering of her age-old gripe with the bastard twins was about to spew. But before it could~

Joe began his ascent up the stairs.

This could not do. The knight posted at the bottom of the staircase wore dark grey armor, and judging by the white bristle of eyebrows seen through the visor of his helm, it was safe to assume he was nearing retirement. Still, he was full of vigour and moved with the power of duty.

And this duty compelled him to stop Joe. After all, his lady had commanded it.

The old knight reached for his sword, and with a fumbling much too slow for the acute eyes of Joe, he drew.

Yet, in what felt like an instant, Joe unsheathed Icebreaker. With a slicing motion that exhibited precision made possible only after thousands and thousands of simulations, Joe swung at the old knight's blade.

And the impact shattered the old knight's blade. Thankfully, Joe could stop his magical weapon of always winter before it pierced the old knight's armour like it was cheese.

But sadly, the old knight was not going to get off that easy.

For Joe stepped into the old knight, closing the distance. He used that momentum to shoulder-barge the old knight with all his strength.

This would be a move that Joe would later regret after the adrenaline wore off, as his shoulder would hurt for a while.

Nonetheless, the move did the trick. The old knight fell back, unable to stop the weight, force, and physics. He crashed back into the wall, landing on his metal-padded ass.

"Innocent until proven guilty. Tyrion is my friend, you see. I'll not have him treated like dirt."

Joe glided up those curling steps, dancing, skipping.

There were two knights up there, stationed at either side of the seat of Arryn, which completed the great hall from its position high above court ever so.

Robin Arryn clung to his mother, and Lysa Arryn could feel the dread in his squeeze. She hoped and prayed. These two knights were all that was between her and a wild beast.

A heavy and encumbered downward slash came at Joe, which Joe effortlessly evaded. One clean downward slash of his own, and Joe shattered the culprit's weapon.

The wrist. With a grab on the wrist and a twirl of the feet, Joe had sent the knight tumbling down the stairs.

As this happened, the last knight was coming at Joe with his sword overhead.

But he had to stop in his tracks. He would have been dead one more step, for the tip of Icebreaker was already pointed at his throat. Joe had raised Icebreaker with a nonchalance never seen before by anyone present. They had never seen a blade move so effortlessly.

The knight gulped, the blood trickling from the tiny puncture at his adam's apple which Icebreaker created. He dropped his sword and its metal clattered on the white stone.

"Very good," Joe sighed with relief, sheathing Icebreaker, "Forgive me, but I am Ned Stark's son. There is no way I would hurt family. Lighten up, will you?"

He was standing before Lysa and Robin Arryn, who were embracing each other on the seat of Arryn.

Yet through it all, through the heat of the moment and the raw truth the emotions of Lysa expressed. . , Joe felt nothing.

Nothing but the same indifference to the world around him. A world that felt so full of life to his observing self. But now, as a participant, only emptiness filled the blanks.

Lysa looked at Joe with scrutiny, and Robin managed to get some peaks in but could not bare to look for more than a few seconds at a time out of fear.

"But what if I *would* hurt family?" Joe said, gathering himself once again, "As I have just shown, that would disprove your assumption that no one can hurt you here."

It was then that Joe's face lightened up, and his trademark accepting gaze began to warm the cold that once penetrated the hall, "Dear Robin, nowhere is safe. Not here, not anywhere. The sooner you learn that and stop sucking at your mothers teat, the sooner you can learn to defend yourself. Winter is coming."

Joe then raised his left hand.

Lysa flinched, but her brain told her to relent. Joe noticed Lysa doing this, and for a moment felt empty; thinking about how his mother and he might have been, if she had lived.

Lysa's fear was warranted, but unnecessary. All Joe did was ruffle Robin's hair, in the same way he'd done to Arya or Bran or Rickon countless times before.

"But fear not," Joe assured, his grin showing teeth as white as his namesake, "I'm sure they'll make a fine lord of you yet. You're the son of Jon Arryn, after all."

As he finished saying this, the rest of the attending Knights of the Vale, of which there were many. . , had come grouping up the stairs. The horde was poised to dispatch Joe at any moment.

Bronn and Tyrion clenched their but cheeks, picturing the worst for our bastard hero. Perhaps Joe would take the young lord hostage?

But before they could get close enough to produce a response from Joe, Lysa Arryn eased, and with an exhale and a wave of her hand, she dismissed the Knights of the Vale.

All the while, she couldn't avert her watch from Joe's golden syrupy amber eyes.

There was something hard to describe when you could see them up close, in the way your reflection would glister and gleam.

Those eyes shun with a purpose that seemed impossible to satiate.

Yet even still, they burned with freedom — a fire that you could easily lose yourself in —

Smoking amok in embers of wonder.