chapter 48

I arrived at the Bloody Gate with my host and made my selections for the Trial of Seven. Like with the Stormlands, I suspected that I would be able to convince several notables to side with me and would like to have at least one Vale knight participant on my side; that way, it would be their victory as well.

Ser Barristan needed to stay with my army, so he was out; plus, a battle on foot was one I preferred anyway. I had left Ser Gladden in Harrenhal. My five additional fighters would be Brienne, Ser Lyle, Ser Arys, Ser Jaspar, Ser Theo, and my alternate would be Ser Barlow. Depending on if he wanted to bellyache about it, I might have to replace him with Ser Bonnifer if none of the Vale knights stepped up. Ser Barlow was younger and larger, so he would be the better option. Yet, with my own abilities, I truly was not that worried. Ser Bonnifer, endlessly annoying as he was, also had a reputation for piety. When your moniker was "the Good", it would be a criminal misuse of good PR not to have him with me in the Eyrie.

The Bloody Gate had a full garrison and was ready to repel anyone who approached without their permission. The pass leading to the gate could only handle four horses side by side. Two stout watchtowers connected by a bridge guarded the exceedingly narrow entrance. In its own way, it was more difficult to take than Harrenhal. It would be impossible to take it by surprise, and a rain of arrows coming from both sides would make a frontal assault a nightmare.

We were only allowed a dozen entrants, which was a rather small number given the situation, but I understood Lysa to be a paranoid and fearful woman, so I did not make a fuss. Along with my chosen fighters, I brought along some of the squires and Lord Harwood Fell.

From there we had to travel all day to arrive at the Gates of the Moon, which were at the base of the mountain. With a proper castle, this was the winter home of the Arryn family. In the season of snow, the Eyrie was simply too cold to serve as a home. The Gates of the Moon were a proper fortification, and we spent the night there. Lord Nestor Royce was already in the Eyrie, and instead we met with his castellan, who gave us bread and salt and then a proper feast. I got to meet Nestor's adult children, Ser Albar and Myranda Royce. Both gave us a warm welcome. I pried them for information on who the best knights of the Vale were. A few names popped up; Ser Vardis Egen, Ser Lyn Corbray, Ser Lothor Brune, and Ser Marwyn Belmore – all renowned knights with a reputation for skill.

The morning had us continue our ascent. After the Gates of the Moon, there were three waycastles, Stone, Snow, and Sky. Traversing up the path to Stone and Snow could not be done on horseback; instead, we were given mules. A girl by the name of Mya Stone came with us to care for the animals.

The girl's features gave me pause. It was known that Robert had fathered a bastard girl in the Vale, and the young woman before me could very well be her. She was tall, had short coal-black hair, and deep blue eyes. She was wearing riding leathers and bowed during the introduction.

"I'll be taking you up to the Eyrie. The way up may seem a mite frightful, but the mules know the way and won't miss a step."

"We are in your hands, Mya. If I might ask, who is your father?"

Mya blinked, "Ah, my lady, I don't know. My mother has shared stories, but I don't wish to offend anyone."

I smiled at her. "If she claimed that you are the daughter of my father, Robert Baratheon, then just looking at you, I would believe it. You have his eyes."

She swallowed thickly, looking at me with uncertainty.

"Fear not, I hold no grudges on my mother's behalf. If you are content here, stay with my blessing. However, if you wish it, I would be delighted to have you serve in Storm's End. You would be half-sister to a Lady Paramount. Think it over."

Mya was stunned but went about her job professionally. The squires we brought up looked queasy, but my Stormguard were resolute and did not allow any fear on their faces as we ascended. The Vale was beautiful, as were the Mountains of the Moon. Snow capped those mountains, and there was frost still ahead on our journey. It was summer, but at this altitude, the weather brought a deep chill. I could now see why it would be inhospitable when winter's winds began calling.

Mya's word was good, and we made the ascent with no issue. The final leg of our journey after the waycastle of Sky could either be partaken on foot or through a basket on a pulley system. Some chose the basket, but I was curious and took the scenic path on foot. It was not easy at all; it was more like a ladder with handholds than actual steps at times. If I'd thought taking the Bloody Gate was difficult, this was on an entirely different level of impossible. There would be no way that soldiers could climb up here while the defenders dropped rocks and fired arrows down.

Finally, we had all made it to the Eyrie. Ser Vardis Egen greeted us, and we completed the customary bread and salt ritual.

"Forgive the haste, Lady Myrcella, but I have been instructed to escort you to the High Hall immediately. Lady Lysa and the Lords of the Vale await."

Not even a chance to refresh ourselves from the journey? Keeping a potential opponent off balance was well within Lysa's rights, though it didn't feel good. I had yet to determine what outcome Lysa truly preferred. It had always been assumed that the Vale would side with Stannis due to the family connections through Hoster Tully and Catelyn Stark. However, she had not stirred, outside of the token force under Nestor Royce. And now she wished for a Trial of Seven to decide the matter. I had looked forward to speaking with her in private before I addressed the nobility of the Vale, but that did not seem to be in the cards.

The squires did not join us and were instead shown to their rooms. Lord Fell, Ser Bonnifer, my Stormguard, and Ser Arys were taken to the High Hall. It was an austere chamber with walls of blue-veined marble. There were no gilding or ornaments, save for the moon and falcon banners, the marble pillars, and the blue silk carpet. I counted at least fifty guards with sky-blue cloaks glimmering with silver mail and wielding spears. I noted at least a dozen who did not hold spears but heavy crossbows. A slight sliver of dread ran up my spine; this was absurdly excessive, bordering on insulting.

It was not just guards that were in the hall but also various nobles of the Vale. Interestingly enough, the number of nobles was less than I had expected –the reverse of what was the case with the guards. I recognized a few, including Lord Nestor Royce, Petyr Baelish, and many others I knew by sight or by their sigils. Beyond the standing nobles, there was a raised dais that held two weirwood thrones, the only seats in the hall. One was occupied by the plump Lady Arryn and the other by a small boy, who had to be Robert Arryn.

Lysa stood up as I approached. "Lady Myrcella, you have come to state your claim as the trueborn daughter of Robert Baratheon. You have come to claim your brother, Tommen Baratheon, is also trueborn. You even have gone so far as to demand a Trial of Seven to determine the validity of your claim."

I inclined my head respectfully, "Lady Arryn, you have the right of it, though I would like to note that it was you who invited me to conduct the Trial of Seven."

Lysa's lips curled up slightly, "Oh, yes, I did do that. However, before we can attend to such matters, I fear that we have an altogether different trial to consider. It has come to my attention that there is a traitor among the Lords of the Vale, and that must be handled first."

I glanced around the room; could she mean Baelish?

"Nestor Royce, you are charged with conspiring with other nobles to commit treason. You wished to do away with me and rule the Vale!"

I saw Nestor recoil in shock.

"My Lady," he began, but other lords cut him off.

"It is true! Lord Nestor claimed that Lady Arryn was unfit and that she should be deposed."

"He met with me too, though he claimed that it was in fear for Lord Robert's health," Lady Waynwood spoke.

"And with me, he said that Lysa was mad with a widow's grief and that she was harming our Lord," Horton Redfort stated.

Lysa looked down at Nestor, "You have conspired and plotted against me; what say you?"

"I did this for Robert Arryn. All can tell that the lad is not well. You have acted queerly since returning to the Vale." Nestor turned away from Lysa and addressed his peers, "I spoke to you in confidence so that we could do what is right for the Vale. It is not treason to look after Jon's son and make sure that he is not within the clutches of someone unwell!"

Lord Lyonel Corbray shook his head in disgust, "You plotted like a Lannister and told me that you wished to be the Regent and take up your mantle as Steward of the Vale. You are a traitor."

"You said that you would back me!"

"I said what I needed you to believe, but in truth, I sent word immediately to Lady Lysa about your treason."

Royce was doing a poor job of this, but trying to intervene on his behalf would sour the Vale; it could even make things worse for him. Corbray's jab about plotting like a Lannister did not go unnoticed by me.

Nestor's face was starting to turn red from anger as more of the nobles tried to speak up at once. Lysa called for order.

"The decision is not to be made by the nobility of the Vale," Lysa announced, "instead, it will be decided by the Defender of the Vale, your liege lord, Robert Arryn."

Silence settled onto the hall as the little pipsqueak grinned. "I can make the bad man fly now?"

I recalled reading that the Eyrie employed no headsman. Instead, they threw people out of the Eyrie, sending their body down hundreds of feet to their death. This was incomprehensible. This was not any sort of justice; it was a plain execution. And Lysa had waited until now to do it, but why?

Nestor's face had lost all color.

"My lord, my lady, I have only done what I thought was best for the Vale. You cannot mean to have me executed."

Petry Baelish spoke up, "My lord, that is the price for treason. My only counsel, Lady Lysa, is to wait to execute him until he has given up his co-conspirators."

Nestor whirled on Baelish, "You aren't even fit to be in the Eyrie, let alone speak; your house is barely above that of a…"

"YOU DARE!?" Lady Lysa screeched.

Earlier she had been composed, but now she seemed furious.

"You, a traitor, dare talk to Petyr that way? He has proven his loyalty, and you have not. We will delay justice no longer. My sweet robin, what should we do with him?"

"Make him fly," the sickly-looking child gleefully clapped his hands.

Petyr Baelish frowned in annoyance but held his tongue. Guards swiftly came to grab Nestor, while others undid three heavy bronze bars holding shut an inward-facing door set in the wall.

"No! I demand a trial by combat; this is a farce!"

Movement stopped for the moment. Then, Lysa gave a laugh.

"Trial by combat? That is an Andal tradition tied to the faith of the Seven. We have a new King now, one who does not follow those old ways. There is no tradition of trial by combat under R'hllor."

My Stormguard stiffened, and I realized that this had been a trap. I looked around the room; we were outnumbered significantly, and the crossbows made it all the worse. My Stormguard didn't even have their full armor on because of the ascent we had just completed.

"Lady Arryn, then why am I here? Have you already sworn to Stannis? Were you dealing with us falsely?" I asked loudly.

Lysa looked at me. "Myrcella Waters, bastard, child borne of incest. You are a creature that cannot have any honor. Bringing you here to face justice is what you deserve."

My Stormguard bristled around me, hands going to hilts, but I signaled them to stay their hands. The odds were bad. I could probably kill several and potentially even rush the dais, despite the distance, and try to take Robert or Lysa hostage, but in those few seconds, those crossbow bolts would sing out and reap a deadly toll. I had other cards to play first, and if even those failed me, another option.

"And all of you, knights, lords, ladies, and loyal sons of the Vale, are you all accepting this? Luring nobles and knights under false pretense? The violation of guest right? False claims that not even my uncle, Stannis Baratheon, makes? I know not what evidence Lord Nestor gathered about Lady Lysa's instability, but I begin to see his point of view."

Many lords could not meet my eye; the few who did smirked. Damn, they had already been bought and paid for with one coin or another.

Lady Waynwood did speak up, "Perhaps it would be best to keep Lady Myrcella for the King's judgement. His letter only proclaimed Joffrey and Tommen as bastards."

Lysa waved her hand, "We will discuss Myrcella Waters in a moment, but for now, the Lord of the Eyrie has spoken; carry out the sentence on this traitor and send him through the Moon Door!"

"Make him fly! Make him fly!"

I watched as they finished opening the door, sending the cold wind blowing throughout the room. Over the wind, Brienne whispered, "What is the plan, Myrcella."

"Do nothing; do not attempt to fight under any circumstances," I replied.

Royce yelled and ranted as he fought against the guards who were dragging him to the Moon Door. He struggled, but against several younger men, he could not stop their progress, and then at the edge, he gave one last look back at me and was thrust out into the wind. The guards struggled with the doors, before they managed to shut them again. Nestor Royce was dead.

Robert Arryn cheered and laughed, and I had to wonder, once again, what was wrong with the Seven Kingdoms. This sort of scene made a mockery of the stated values Westeros held. Hypocrisy was rampant in all three of my lives, but this, this was over the top.

"And now to deal with you, Myrcella Waters, for she was one of the co-conspirators. She came under false pretense to work with Lord Royce to supplant me."

I looked at her and knew that my task would not be to convince her but to convince the guards and nobles in the room.

"You denied Lord Royce a trial by combat; I assume that was due to your doubts of the prowess of your knights. What say you, Knights of the Vale – are any among you still bold enough to rise to the occasion?"

Several shouted up at once, but Lysa silenced them.

"There will be no trial by combat. We abide by our new King's traditions."

"Oh? So, you plan on converting to R'hllor? Abandon the Seven?"

"This is dull! Is someone else going to fly?" The little wretch on the weirwood chair complained.

Lysa smiled at her spawn, "Yes, my sweetling, we will finish this quickly."

"Ah so a show trial, no testimony, no evidence, just a simple 'you are guilty and out the door you go'? Is this justice? Is this 'As High as Honor?' Well?"

Several of the guards looked quite discomfited, but the nobles were resolute. They had put their chips on Lysa and Stannis, damn the means.

"There is nothing to present – you are a bastard, you look nothing like Robert Baratheon, and just like a bastard, you plot treachery. You release Lord Royce for the sole purpose of turning him to your cause – why else would you do so? It is time to render judgement."

My Stormguard tensed, ready to die in defense of me against impossible odds. I had to switch gears, slow things down at least.

I dropped to one knee. "I can see the outcome before the young Lord Robert delivers it. Do you have a septon who can hear my final thoughts and… prayers."

Ser Vardis Egen spoke swiftly, "We have no septon here, but we do have a sept where you may pray."

Lysa's neck twisted as she looked at the captain of her guard. She scowled but then nodded magnanimously.

"Have your guards drop their weapons, and you will have an hour in the sept before your execution."

I motioned for them to do so, but Ser Arys objected.

"No! Lady Myrcella, you cannot ask me to stand aside; I am a knight of the Kingsguard. You will not fall before I do."

"Ser Arys, King Tommen still lives; do as I command, and you may one day be ransomed and returned to him."

He looked conflicted, but I stared him down and softly spoke, so that only my Stormguard could hear, "Please, not all hope is lost, but you must not fight."

He relented, and he and my Stormguard relieved themselves of their weapons. I took my hidden daggers as well as my Valyrian Steel dagger and placed them in the pile.

"One last thing, Lady Arryn, may Lord Baelish speak with me in the sept? He knows my family, and there are some last, private words I would give to him."

Lysa looked confused, but before she could speak, Lord Baelish agreed. I was separated from my guards and taken to the sept by half a dozen blue-cloaked soldiers. The sept only had one entrance and one exit, so they left me alone inside. I did not have to wait long; just a few minutes later, and Petry Baelish joined me.

The scene in the High Hall, the many glances from Lysa to Baelish, her rage at Petyr's nobility being questioned – they made one thing clear to me. Petyr Baelish was the one pulling Lysa's strings. Unarmed, I could still kill him. I could even try to take him hostage, though that was dicey. Before anything else, I needed information.

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