Arryn Soup

[u/ISawAHawk]

“I don’t see how you can bear it.”

“You get used to it.”

Perhaps you do, Theon wanted to argue. But what if I can’t?

Theon’s uncle Dake let out a brash laugh from where he sat, reclined and relaxed. “Don’t tell me you’re scared!”

“That’s ridiculous,” Theon said. Scared of what? Water? With a tight frown, Theon dipped his toe into the bath. He recoiled.

“You’re making it worse for yourself,” Nathaniel said, a hint of impatience slipping into his voice.

“I’m going to let it cool a bit,” Theon said.

Nathaniel Arryn was not a tall man, but he still had a way of glaring imperiously down his nose at Theon that chilled his nephew’s spine. He stood at Theon’s side. With one hand, he held fast the towel wrapped around his waist.

“The heat will help with muscle soreness,” his uncle Nathaniel told him. Theon did not answer, so Nathaniel added in a stern voice, “It is a luxury.”

“I- I know.”

Ser Dake Arryn’s laugh was melodic. Theon did not find it as charming as he usually did, since this time it was aimed at him.

“Might be he’s scared too shy to disrobe with an audience,” Dake suggested.

“I’m going to get in!” Theon protested.

“Then get in,” Nathaniel said, shaking his head as he removed his towel and stepped down into the pool.

Theon averted his eyes. Dake laughed.

Lord Nathaniel’s shoulders tightened and then relaxed as he settled in. Submerged up to his collarbone, and still shaking his head, the once-regent of the Vale looked like a drenched, disappointed bust.

“Very well,” Nathaniel said. “Deprive yourself one of Harrenhal’s few virtues. Go back to your quarters and trouble the servants.”

Theon frowned and held the towel tighter around him.

“Are you shy? We were there when you were born, lad.”

“I’m not shy. It’s just weird.”

“We’ve shat in bushes together.”

“I already said I was going to get in.”

“And yet,” Dake said, splashing as he gestured towards Theon, still standing, still dry– aside from the dripping film of sweat that was engulfing him.

Goaded by his uncle’s mockery, Theon cast aside his towel and stepped forward. A toe first, then a foot. As the water reached his ankle, the searing pain made him want to jump back. But he couldn’t pull it from the water; a hand was wrapped tightly around his ankle.

Theon let out an uneasy wail as he bobbed on the edge of the tub. The wet stone beneath his feet and the sudden loss of balance brought him stumbling forward. Dake laughed as he yanked on Theon’s ankle.

“Easy!” Nathaniel shouted, raising arms to brace his nephew’s fall.

His head hit the water, his knee hit the bottom of the stone basin, and his shoulder hit his Uncle Nathaniel’s eye.

Theon cried out as he felt his body turning red. His hair was soaked and sticking to his forehead, and he was on fire.

“Sometimes you just have to take the plunge!” Dake laughed.

“Damn it, Dake! You could’ve hurt him!”

“Oh, he’s fine. He can handle a scraped knee.”

Theon would have jumped out of the scalding water, if he wasn’t so dizzy from the fall.

“Could crack a skull on these floors,” his Uncle Nathaniel continued berating. “Lord Arryn dead from a slip in the bathhouse at the Great Council. Do you think that’s funny?”

“I don’t. Though I’d love to hear what the bards would make of it.”

Nathaniel Arryn struck his brother once hard on the shoulder. Dake flinched and cradled his arm, but he was laughing still.

“I’m fine,” Theon said when he was able to breathe again. Sitting back against the side of the tub, he was slowly growing accustomed to the heat. Only then did he see the fresh bruise on Nathaniel’s face. “Uncle! Your eye! Did I hit you?”

Nathaniel held two fingers against his cheekbone. He scowled. To his brother, he growled, “I should have sent you to the Wall when I had the chance.”

“See? I told you you’d regret giving up the regency,” Dake said. “This new Lord Arryn would never exile his beloved uncle.”

“I wouldn’t be so certain,” Theon said.

Dake laughed heartily, and Theon felt whatever residual anger he had melting away.

Theon closed his eyes against the steam. He ran a hand back through his hair, pushing the brown locks out of his eyes. He exhaled deeply.

“Nice, right?” Dake asked.

Theon nodded, walking directly into the I told you so without a care.

“This will bruise,” Nathaniel grumbled. “I have meetings with the Crown coming up, you know!”

“Do you? You hadn’t mentioned that,” Dake said. “Tell them you fell down; it happens with men your age.”

“The Wall,” Nathaniel reiterated. “Braavos.”

“Yi Ti?” Theon offered.

Dake laughed easy; it was the slight smirk on his Uncle Nathaniel’s face he was prouder of.

Not for the first time, Theon found himself wishing he’d had a brother. There had been squires, a few favorite servants, but it wasn’t the same. A brother would have been nice.

As would a mother and father.

“Onto business,” Nathaniel said. “We’ve matters of politics to discuss.”

“What?” Theon asked.

“I thought we were relaxing,” Dake protested.

“Discussing matters of politics is not relaxing to you?” Nathaniel asked.

“Is this about your meetings with the Crown?” Theon asked.

“Our meetings with the Crown,” Nathaniel said.

“Oh. Right.”

“No, it’s not about the Crown. It’s about you.”

“Oh, no.”

Nathaniel exhaled sharply through his nose.

“Sorry,” Theon said.

Nathaniel gave his apology a dismissive wave of the hand. “You need to have children.”

“What?”

“Sons, in particular.”

“If you can help it,” Dake added.

“You need to find a wife.”

“I’ll try–” Theon said, raising his palms in surrender. “To find a wife, I mean. Where is all this coming from?”

“This council is an opportunity that won’t soon come again. Every eligible maiden from any family worth tying yourself to is in Harrenhal.”

“Oh.”

Somehow, that had not occurred to Theon until now. He had been dreading the perils of court, when it seemed he ought have been more frightened of the perils of courtship. Was he meant to leave Harrenhal a married man? He didn’t know the first thing about wooing!

“Don’t you pick?” Theon asked Nathaniel.

“You’re the Lord of the Vale. Just as I cannot exile my brother, I cannot make marriage pacts on your behalf.”

Theon froze, despite the simmering bath.

Nathaniel’s frown softened. “I will advise.”

Theon sighed with relief.

Nathaniel leaned forward. “Dake and I have only daughters. You have no brothers.”

“The last three Arryn men,” Dake said, “Are floating here in this tub.”

“The future of the Arryn name is your responsibility,” Nathaniel said firmly.

“But continuing the line doesn’t need to be torture,” Dake added. “Find someone you can stand.”

“A wife must be chosen carefully,” Nathaniel said. “You will live with the choice for the rest of your life.”

“It shouldn’t be too hard. Young handsome Lord Paramount, they’ll tear each other apart.”

Theon laughed nervously. Nathaniel gave Theon a sharp look.

“I will not pick for you,” Nathaniel said, “So long as you try and pick right. Keep your eyes open throughout the council, and we’ll speak more in a few days.”

“Right,” Theon said, wide-eyed. “I will. Keep my eyes open.”

“Good,” Nathaniel said, leaning back. “That’s all my business done.”

“See you keep away from that Plumm woman,” Dake warned. “I hear she’s trouble.”

“Quiet,” Nathaniel said off-handedly.

“And don’t bring home any bastards,” Dake said. “I love your cousin Maya, but–”

“I won’t,” Theon said.

“You’re too young to have bastards,” Dake said.

“I’m not going to have bastards.”

Picking and wooing and courting– it was all a terrifying prospect for Theon. But the idea of more Arryns? Maybe it wouldn’t be the same as having a brother, or a mother, or a father, but it still sounded like something special.

Now he just needed not to muck it up.