chapter 35

My next task was to visit some of my captives. Along with Nestor Royce, I was given the rest of the captives from my grandfather. I wondered if that was his way of 'paying his debt' for saving his life; hopefully he didn't view his life as that cheaply. It wasn't a very important bunch. Among the Vale knights were quite a few other houses, which intrigued me a bit. What was going on in the Vale? That was what I aimed to find out.

Lord Royce had taken several wounds. He had broken a rib when he was thrown from his horse. He took a nasty cut to the chelidon, or the elbow pit as people in Westeros called it. He had also wrenched his neck and had a smattering of other bruises. Based on the stories of his capture, he probably had a concussion as well, but by now it would be difficult to tell unless it was severe.

Given his station and importance, he had a heavily-guarded tent to himself. Lord Nestor Royce was our most valuable hostage. The Royces of the Gates of the Moon were a cadet branch of the primary Royce line, just like the Karstarks were once a cadet branch of the Starks. With the primary line's male heir being lost, it would be interesting how the Vale handled who would rule the primary branch. Yohn Royce did have daughters, the eldest of which was Ysilla Royce, who were all still unmarried. Albar Royce did have two daughters, but they were too young to get married. Given the current situation, it seemed that Nestor Royce was in command, but had that been a temporary measure given the circumstances?

Even if Nestor Royce was not about to rule the Royces of Runestone, he was still an important political figure. He had been the steward of the Vale while Lord Jon Arryn had served as the Hand. He would have ruled over his peerage, made economic and territorial decision, and more. His value as a hostage was nearly incalculable.

I approached his bed. He had been given a quarter dose of milk of the poppy, so he was coherent, but the edge of the pain from his wounds would be dulled.

"Lord Royce, I am pleased to see your wounds have been tended to. I have been informed that they are not life threatening."

Nestor looked at me and spoke with a heavy tone, "Lady Myrcella, I would rise, but I'm not in any condition to do so." He looked at me with some curiosity. "I had not expected you to meet me here; where is your grandfather, or Ser Barristan?"

I smiled at him. "Both of them have many duties to attend to." I pulled up a chair next to his bed. "I wished to speak with you. The Vale has always fascinated me. I tried to speak with Lord Arryn on more than one occasion, but he was always so busy. But even so, I've always heard the stories of the most honorable kingdom of all the Seven Kingdoms."

He eyed me warily; our earlier meeting was making it a bit more difficult to portray myself as the innocent young girl. I let my gaze drift lower to the floor.

"May I confide in you, my lord?" Without waiting for a response, I continued. "Everyone expects much of me. They think that due to my voracious reading and my desire to learn, coupled with my upbringing, that I am a ready font of wisdom. In truth, it terrifies me. Me, overseeing all the Stormlands. You were steward of the Vale; you know what it was like. Forget the war for a moment – what can you tell me of what I should do?"

I saw the change come over his face. He believed me, and his pride puffed up. A strange mixture, a pitying look warring with beaming pride. And so, he began to dispense advice. None of it was necessarily wrong or even bad, he had been an able steward for Lord Arryn, but it was all things I had already known. I of course listened intently, paraphrased back to him what he was saying, and tried my utmost to convey to him that I was learning valuable lessons.

This was for a few reasons. The simplest was that I wanted to have him think positively of me. I had some thoughts on how I could possibly sway the Vale. The entire situation was strange. Lysa Arryn should have already summoned her banners as soon as the Riverlands were attacked. The Vale had played host to Eddard Stark during his formative years; there seemed to be no good reason that they had not marched. There had to be a reason, and if I could learn it and sway individuals like Lord Royce, there was a chance I could bring the Vale to our cause. And of course, if the worst came to worst and our side lost, well, another powerful noble who personally thought highly of me could save me from a trip to the headsman.

Getting Nestor Royce to explain the situation in the Vale to me was a big ask, one that he would no doubt refuse if I just started off with it. Instead, I was using a variation of the foot-in-the-door technique. In my first life, Jonathan Freedman of Stanford University conducted a study with the premise that if someone was asked to do a small favor first, they were more likely to accept doing a larger favor later. The study was a success and had since been replicated several times with similar results. Asking for some general advice on how to appropriately manage nobles and lands was an easy favor for my prisoner to grant me. That opened the door for a larger favor of sharing with me the political situation of the Vale.

This, incidentally, was what I thought Being X's plan was with me. He wanted me to just pray to him, to praise him in a heartfelt way. But it wouldn't stop there – one little act of faith was just the foot in the door; he would expect lifelong slavery to his diabolical will. That was why I had to resist, always, allowing only the exception when there was no hope of victory without utilizing the accursed Type-95 orb.

It wouldn't do to ask for the larger favor right away. Instead, I would leave that for the next day.

"Thank you, Lord Royce, it has been an honor to pick up some of your wisdom. I hope that this war can end soon and peace can return to the land." I wasn't even lying this time.

"Ah, speaking of which, Lady Myrcella, what is Lord Tywin and Ser Barristan's intent in regard to my person?"

I let my smile fade. "I want to exchange you for some of the captive knights that my uncle has taken. However, I have been advised that you are too important to trade for mere knights."

He looked troubled. No doubt the stories of my grandfather's savagery had found their way to his ears. Nestor did not seem to know how to respond, but eventually an argument came to him.

"As you can see, my wounds are severe. If I am to be ransomed – for several knights, of course – I would not be fit to continue fighting right away. I would no doubt have to return to my holdings, along with a good many of my men to ensure my safety. The wild clansmen often prowl the way to the Gates of the Moon."

As arguments went, it was a good one.

"I'll be sure to explain that. While I do appreciate your company, I know you would be more comfortable with your people. I will try to visit you on the morrow. In the meantime, is there anything that you desire? I could have a quill and parchment provided if you wish to write to anyone."

He shook his head, "No, child – I mean Lady Baratheon – just have the Maester bring some wine if you would."

I nodded in agreement and left Lord Royce. Outside, Ser Theo gave me an amused look and accompanied me toward my next stop.

"Nestor Royce has a reputation for being stern and businesslike, and yet you led him on a merry little dance. You sounded like a real innocent child back there."

I gave a slight chuckle and kept the slightly sweet voice I had used back there with Nestor as I responded, "But am I not an innocent young girl who just strives for what is best for everyone?"

Theo Redstone barked out a laugh.

"No one who saw you stab Ser Brus to death would ever think you an innocent. If I may ask, what purpose did that serve?"

I respected my subordinates' asking questions; it meant they were thinking. My Stormguard were going to be more than just bodyguards. They were going to be my eyes, ears, hands, and voice.

"The Vale is still mostly neutral. I intend to learn why. This is just the first step in getting within his good graces. He is currently unaware that my grandfather has left. While I show him a kind and innocent face, looming in the background of his mind is the wrath of Lord Tywin Lannister. If he thinks that I could intercede on his behalf… well, there is much I could learn."

The knight weighed that before speaking again. I liked Theo; he was brash and confident when we prepared for the Trial of Seven, but all his insights into our opponents had been spot on. He was skilled and had a brain – a perfect combination.

"He's a proud man, but wouldn't a, ah, more aggressive questioning get you the same answers?"

"You mean torture? Hot irons, pulled fingernails, broken bones, and the like?"

Theo mumbled something about 'innocent' as he nodded.

I smiled. "Torture doesn't always yield the results you think it would. Often, people will say anything, including untruths, to get the pain and torment to stop. It also burns bridges and would likely necessitate killing him afterward. And all that is before we even look at the ethical considerations."

He accepted that answer, and we made our rounds. I made it a point to visit all our captives. There were some other Vale knights, a few Northerners who were related to semi-important people, and a bare handful of knights in service to the Lords of the Narrow Sea. I was gracious and kind, ensuring their needs were met, adequate painkillers and wine were on hand, and I offered them every courtesy possible. I had every intention of bartering them back to my uncle, and when I did, I wanted them well-disposed toward me.

***

Robb Stark had been utterly exhausted after the battle. He had collapsed into a dreamless slumber and remained dead to the world until the next day. That next day, he was in a daze. All his life he had been granted honor and respect for who he was, but now it was different. It was for what he had done, for his battle with the Mountain, and his holding the fords of the Trident to allow the Northern army to retreat.

It felt good. He had been tested and found to be made of the same mettle as his father. He mourned for the loss of the Smalljon and others who had fallen. He wished he could have arrived sooner, but by the Gods had that been a fight! He had felt so alive. He was good at battle; he seemed to know the ebb and flow of how it would go. On more than one occasion, he had moved before even seeing or hearing danger.

Theon had been injured. It wasn't a serious wound, and his brother in all but name was enjoying retelling the battle with the Mountain. Robb liked that; it was good for Theon to be respected and praised for his valor. The North had long-standing and justified grudges against the Greyjoys, but it wasn't fair to Theon to bear the burden of his family name. Now, at least, he had proven his loyalty and skill at arms.

Robb had been surprised to see Duty on the battlefield. The thought had fully slipped his mind in the aftermath of the battle until he met up with his father.

"Robb, yesterday was your first battle. How are you feeling?"

"Sore in a few places, but good. I know that we didn't win the victory the King had wanted, but it felt like a victory."

Eddard nodded gravely, "The North bled the Lannisters more than they bled us. I have you to thank for preventing a terrible defeat. You've done your duty and carried the Stark name with honor."

Robb felt his throat close up for a moment before mastering himself. "Thank you, father, I hope to continue to do so."

"I'm sure that you will. In battle, nothing is certain, and I mean to prepare you as much as I can. You will be with me as I go through the decisions I need to make prior to our parley." He grimaced. "You did well in taking the Mountain alive, but by doing so, you've created some problems for us."

The two talked about the pending negotiations. Many wanted the Mountain to pay for his crimes. The brutal killing of the Smalljon and the savagery he displayed in the Riverlands had many calling for his head. The blame lay on Tywin, but the stories and rumors stated that it was the Mountain who had been at the spearpoint of every atrocity the Old Lion committed.

In the middle of their conversation, they received news. From across the Trident, they could see the number of tents, wagons, and horses had been greatly diminished. His father frowned deeply, "Now I see the reason for the delay in meeting to exchange captives."

Robb didn't like the idea of his father being tricked. "They can run, but we'll chase them down."

Ned gave orders to have the outriders patrol even further out along the banks of the Trident. Robb could tell that he didn't trust the Lannisters to hold to the agreed-upon truce.

"On another matter," Ned began, "your brother will be staying with us. He has convinced me that Duty can accomplish much alongside Grey Wind."

The heir of Winterfell could only agree with how helpful Duty was. It wasn't just the aid in bringing down the Mountain. The direwolves panicked the enemy horses something fierce and gave men pause as well.

Robb stayed with Eddard as he held court with the other lords that made up their coalition. The Greatjon was demanding the execution of Ser Gregor. Robb's father would not allow it, saying that a decision of that magnitude would rest with the King. The Vale lords were very grateful for that decision, for fear that the Lannisters would slay Lord Royce in retaliation.

It was a busy day, and the next one would be even busier. News arrived in the morn – the King was returning and would be there by evening. That raised everyone's spirits, though not as much as the news about the Tyrells. Ser Loras – tortured and murdered by Joffrey. Lord Mace Tyrell was marching on King's Landing. Now things became clearer to Robb on why the Lannisters had pushed for this temporary truce. The exchange of captured knights and lords was just an excuse to begin moving south without being harried. Robb thought that they could still catch up. Though he wasn't quite sure that he had that right either; a good number of the enemy was still across the Trident. Were they really going to try to hold their position so outnumbered?

Robb was not as familiar with the strength and power of the southern houses. Listening to others speak around camp led him to the understanding that the Reach would be able to field more men than any other kingdom. If that was true, the war may very well be won. Robb had no issues with killing in battle, but it would be better for everyone if the war ended quickly. The summer had been long and was not yet showing signs of fading, but Winter would come. The last thing any realm needed was war during that time, least of all the North.

Being by his father's side, he was privy to some of the tensions within the King's camp. The Lady Melisandre, some noble from a place called Asshai, was out of favor. She had been ordered to return to Dragonstone. While she had bent to the will of Stannis, her eyes had been alight with anger. Those unnatural red-hued eyes had lingered on him for a few moments as well; he'd had to force himself not to shudder. It was strange how her eyes had disquieted him more than even the Mountain's wrath had.

The King looked haggard and worn. His voice, though, was like iron, and he gave a steady stream of commands. Eddard was formally made Hand of the King, and a clear chain of succession for command of the armies was established: First King Stannis, then Lord Eddard, Lord Galbart Glover, Lord Rickard Karstark, and finally Lord Roose Bolton. The Lords of the Narrow Sea, diminished as they were from their catastrophic casualties from the battle, voiced their objection.

King Stannis silenced them with a look of utter contempt and harsh words. "If Lord Ardrian had survived the battle, I'd have had him hanged for treason. He and the rest of you followed your own vain hopes of glory over the commands of your appointed commander."

More orders and commands were given. As for the parley, since King Stannis would be present, Eddard Stark would not. Instead, Ser Davos, Ser Morton Waynwood, and Lord Raymun Darry would accompany him. The final member would be Robb Stark, who was surprised by his inclusion. His father had explained that it was important that he get experience, and it was he who had captured the Mountain. While the King was leaning toward executing the Mountain for his barbaric crimes, they would see if they could free Lord Royce with the other knights they had taken captive. Robb was not expecting to give council, merely to watch and act if there was any treachery. The King had granted him permission to take Grey Wind as well.

The meeting spot was North of the Trident, right at the banks. Stannis had agreed to pull his men back a fair distance. Even so, if there was treachery, it would be far quicker for Stannis's men to arrive to aid them than it would be for the Stormlords or Lannisters. In addition, the King, Robb, Ser Morton, and Lord Raymun were fully outfitted in their plate armor. Only Ser Davos wore boiled leather and chainmail.

They arrived slightly early to the appointed hour. Ser Morton besought the King one final time before the other side arrived.

"Your Grace, the Mountain deserves death – none doubt it. Lord Royce does deserve life. Temporarily denying justice to a landed knight with but a small keep and minimal lands is foul, but when weighed up against Lord Royce… we must do what makes sense."

Robb could feel the tension from Stannis. "The Mountain is a rabid dog. Even before this war, there were rumors of his savagery that reached King's Landing. Women disappearing, his own father dying under queer circumstances."

"We took him down once; we could…" he was interrupted as five horses made their way through the narrow portion of the Trident. Robb had hoped to encounter Ser Barristan at the parley; the man was a legendary knight, and he had heard so many stories from Bran that he wanted to see the legend in person. It was not to be.

Up front rode two big men. They weren't the size of the Mountain, but they neared the height of the Greatjon. One was wearing the sigil of the brindled boar, the other was without device. Another knight rode a gray gelding with a gray cloak – no sigil on his tabard either. The final knight wore the heraldry of house Wylde, a blue-green spiral on a field of yellow. And the fifth member was none other than Princess Myrcella Baratheon, now Lady Paramount of the Stormlands.

Stannis spoke first as they arrived. "So, Lord Lannister has scurried south. Make this quick."

"Hello, uncle. I would say that it is good to see you, but that would be false. You tried to have me killed; you sent assassins after me. Were it not for men of honor like Robb Stark and Ser Morton, I would suspect a bolt in the back for my troubles today."

Robb forced himself not to react to the accusation. Myrcella was accusing Stannis of attempting a kinslaying.

Stannis was furious, "That is a lie. I have taken great pains to not see you harmed, despite the uncertainty of your birth."

"So, you did not send the assassin? It was just happenstance that I was attacked right before you launched an assault on a prepared position across a river? Really, uncle?" Her tone was dripping with derision.

Robb had dined and spoken with Myrcella a few times back at Winterfell. She had always been poised and even keeled. The Myrcella before him now was quite different – she was clearly furious.

"We are here to discuss exchanging prisoners. Make your proposal, and get on with it."

"No!" She shouted. "You don't get to try to murder your niece in cold blood with some demon from the pits of the Seven Hells and pretend that it never happened." With those words, Myrcella opened a bag; Robb tensed and then felt himself flush slightly. The girl was angry, but it wasn't like whatever she had in her bag was a threat to armored men. She drew out a great helm, one with a diagonal cut across the front section.

Lord Darry interjected, "Lady Myrcella, calm yourself. We don't need to see a damaged helm, especially right after a battle."

Myrcella's gaze flew to Ser Raymun. "Ser, this helm was worn last by Brienne of Tarth. I want you to examine the cut. Have you ever known a weapon to slice through castle-forged steel like this? Look at how precise and perfect the cut is; no natural weapon did this."

Without waiting for permission, Myrcella rode next to the Lord of Darry and handed him the helm. Bemused, he took it and examined it with some surprise.

Stannis raised his voice, "None of this matters. We are not going to entertain your flights of fancy."

"You tried to have me murdered with a demon, and you belittle me and call it a flight of fancy? My sworn shield nearly died protecting me; I am only here today because of her valor. I know you wish it were not so, and I live in the sure knowledge that I am still a target for your assassins, but…"

Ser Davos roared, "You were never the target, my lady! His Grace would never target his own kin; he…"

Robb saw triumph flash in Myrcella's eyes. "Oh, so the demon he conjured from the Hells wasn't meant for me? I have nothing but your word, ser, and I don't know how far I can trust that."

Robb saw Raymun hand the helmet over to Ser Morton. Stannis was practically gnashing his teeth.

"My knights and lords will now remain silent. I will speak. Dissemble or delay again, and there will be no exchange at all."

Myrcella raised her chin. "Very well. I have looked at the list of names; we hold far more important individuals than you. Nevertheless, we will be willing to entertain a trade one name at a time. We desire the Mountain returned to us; whom do you wish for him?"

Stannis shook his head. "His crimes are too great; he will not be exchanged."

Myrcella tilted her head, almost like a bird. "Crimes? Treason is considered the worst crime imaginable, the breaking of oaths of fealty. By that logic, if both sides believe their cause just, the other side must be guilty of the crime of treason. And yet… throughout our history, hostages have been exchanged despite the crimes involved."

Robb saw the King respond angrily, "Ser Gregor Clegane has committed the foulest crimes imaginable, including rape and brutal torture. He will face justice."

"He is an anointed knight of the Seven and has a right to face his charges via trial by combat," Myrcella countered.

"We are in the middle of a war, Myrcella; there has never been a precedent of allowing captives a trial by combat."

Lady Myrcella considered for a moment and then said, "Lord Royce. The lord of a major house, the man chosen to rule the Vale in the absence of Lord Arryn during his tenure as hand. I will offer you to him for the landed knight Ser Gregor Clegane."

Robb was again shocked. This sort of trade was simply not done. Ser Morton began to speak, "Your…"

"Gods damn you, I told you to be silent!"

"Gods? Has your faith in the Lord of Light waned?" Myrcella delivered the barb in a light tone of voice, but Robb could tell that Stannis fought hard to master his self-control in response.

Through gritted teeth, Stannis said, "I have told you; I will not be releasing Ser Gregor."

Myrcella threw up her hands, and again Robb's hand went for his blade. Again, he felt mortified over being so jumpy when it was just a dramatic gesture and not an attempt to draw a weapon. He was only slightly mollified at seeing Grey Wind's eyes firmly locked onto Myrcella. For some reason, his direwolf had zeroed in on the petite girl as the only threat worth focusing on.

"Uncle! I was given a task by my grandfather to retrieve the Mountain. Do you not care about the knights of the Vale who bled and died for you? An honorable lord from an ancient line in exchange for my grandfather's pet mad dog? This is why father couldn't stand you. Once you've made up your mind, no sense can get through, no matter whom it hurts!"

Robb almost missed it. Father had been trying to get him to think from other people's perspectives. Starks cared deeply about honor, and they did what was expected of them and did right by their vassals. What Eddard had focused on educating him on was that not every lord or lady operated the same way. It was important to learn what they valued, what motivated them, and then work backward to see what they would try to do.

Lady Myrcella had to know her uncle's ways. Why was she continually focusing on the Mountain after the King had said no? The excuse she used about just following through with her grandfather's demands did not hold up under scrutiny. There was no way the Old Lion was desperate enough to get Ser Gregor back that he would allow Lord Royce to be traded. So, if he worked backward, what was Myrcella's goal here?

He thought about the tension in the camp. He thought about the act of presenting the damaged helm. He thought about Myrcella's naming Ser Morton but not Lord Raymun as honorable. He came to the conclusion that would have old Maester Lewin smiling. Lady Myrcella was only offering Lord Royce after she had learned that the Mountain was off the table. Her entire goal here was to try to drive a wedge between the King and the Vale!

"You are your mother's daughter, but your viperous claims are immaterial. The Mountain will die for his crimes; as King, I will see justice done."

"Justice! I want justice too for my maimed sworn shield, but I doubt that will be forthcoming. Allow me one final plea that I hope may sway even you." Myrcella paused, "You claim that during war captives are not allowed a trial by combat. You claim to be King, and the judgment is yours to make. You can rule, you can grant a prisoner a trial by combat. Should your champion win, we will release Lord Royce. Should your champion lose, we will still release Lord Royce, but we will take custody of the Mountain."

Robb knew that the reason the Stormlands had sided with the Lannisters was due to the Trial of Seven. Had she become enamored with that form of justice and decision-making? Was she so secure in her knight's ability to win in a duel that she would propose such a lopsided exchange?

She does have Ser Barristan...

Stannis shook his head vehemently, "His guilt is not in question, no more of this."

"YOUR GRACE!" Ser Morton was red-faced.

"I told you to…"

"NO! What do you think will happen to Lord Royce if you slay the Mountain? You heard about what happened in the Riverlands! This child is giving us the best exchange in the history of Westeros, and you would consign Lord Royce to a painful death! And to what end? The Mountain's wounds will prevent him from fighting for months; this is madness if you don't agree to this. Agree to this now before Ser Barristan or one of the Stormlords realizes she's made this sort of offer."

A small hint of a smile graced Lady Myrcella's face before quickly disappearing, so fast that Robb almost felt that he imagined it.

He could see the unbridled fury in the eyes of the King. Ser Davos drew his horse closer and whispered something to Stannis, and slowly the King mastered his rage.

"I will discuss it with my lords, but for now we continue discussing other captives."

Myrcella smiled graciously. "I appreciate the consideration, uncle, and it wouldn't delay things by more than a couple of days to hold the trial by combat, but yes, let's move on to the next name. I would like to…"

Robb caught that as well, a couple of days' delay, for what? Was this just all an effort to keep Stannis north of the Trident? The rest of the negotiations were tame in comparison. Knights of roughly equivalent rank were traded readily enough. Robb was pleased to see that Wendel Manderly was one of the names that would be exchanged. Given the importance of the Manderly house, it seemed that the King got one over on Myrcella. The Lady of Storm's End had command of all the names of all the hostages and knights without once looking at a scroll or receiving assistance, but perhaps she did not know the North, being from the south.

She's just 11, just memorizing all those names from both sides of the conflict is a feat I couldn't reproduce. Father said that I shouldn't underestimate her, but I shouldn't overestimate a child either.

Due to the disparity in captives of note, by the end of it, all but the Mountain would be returned to Lady Myrcella. She would still have Nestor Royce and half a dozen Vale knights and a pair of Riverland knights. Even though Robb had not spoken once during the parley, he felt successful. Every Northern captive was being returned.

With the agreement in place, they would reconvene within four hours with hostages that would be traded, and from there a final reckoning on the matter of the Mountain and Lord Royce would take place. As they departed, Robb noted the differences between the two groups. Most of the party with Stannis had spoken, while Myrcella was the only one who had uttered a word from the other side. Father had always told him that a wise lord listened to council from different views; was Myrcella arrogant enough to feel that that wasn't necessary? Or had all decisions been made prior to the meeting, and her people were just so much more unified than those that served Stannis?

As they turned to ride back, Stannis commanded Ser Morton, "Leave the helm."

He almost looked ready to object, but then he rode forward toward Myrcella.

"You may keep it; show it around to the other knights and see what sort of King my uncle is," Myrcella said as he reached her.

"If she does not wish it back, throw the rubbish on the ground," Stannis ordered.

Ser Morton mumbled something of an apology and tossed the cut helm to the ground. After that, the two parties separated. Robb felt compelled to explain what he thought Myrcella was doing.

"Your Grace, may I speak with you briefly?"

Stannis eyed him, "Speak."

In a low voice, Robb said, "Your Grace, I do not think that Lady Myrcella cares about the Mountain. She only became forceful on the issue when she realized you would not bend. The whole purpose is to drive a wedge between you and the knights of the Vale."

"What of it?"

Robb thought quickly, "Well, if you know what the enemy wants, deny it. Don't let them achieve what their aim is – at least, that is what my father taught me."

"Did your father teach you justice, duty, and honor?"

Robb bristled, but kept his tone calm, "Yes, Your Grace."

"Then advise me not to lay them to the side for a temporary advantage. Under my rule, justice will be done. The knight that rides behind us saved my life, saved my brother's life, and yet I took his finger joints, because that was justice. The Vale owes me their fealty, and should they refuse me over concern for Nestor, they will suffer for it."

***

I was pleased with the negotiations. I didn't know how much pull Ser Morton Waynwood had with the other Vale knights, but he was quite displeased with my uncle's obstinacy. Retrieving all the captured notables, save the Mountain, was good for morale. People would fight harder for a commander they thought cared about their fate.

"You think Stannis will agree to the bout?" Ser Lyle asked.

"It is unlikely, though his vassals might be able to convince him," I replied. "My uncle is a man who does not bend, though I do feel like he owes Stark some favors, and Lord Eddard was raised in the Vale, so it is possible."

The big knight smiled, "If there is a fight, I'd be your champion, since Ser Gregor was injured."

I thought about that for a moment. The 'Strong Boar' had a reputation for strength and size; I did know about his skill. He had not fought in many tournaments, and in those he had, he did not place highly.

"I will keep you in mind, Ser Lyle; I appreciate your valor."

I made the necessary arrangements for the return of the captives. Some would have to be delivered via stretcher due to their injuries. I also informed Ser Barristan of the pertinent details and then paid a visit to Lord Nestor. I had met with him regularly, and now was the time to see if he would crack and tell me just what was going on with the Vale.

Putting on a sorrowful and worried mien, I entered the tent.

"Lord Nestor, how are you feeling?"

He looked up at me and saw my visage and frowned. "My wounds pain me less, but what is amiss?"

I lowered my gaze pitifully. "I don't know what to do. We couldn't get an agreement to trade you. Despite the objections from the Stormlords, I tried to trade you for Ser Gregor, but Uncle Stannis refused!"

A mixture of emotions warred on his bluff face. Shock, outrage, confusion, and worry were the dominant expressions.

"He… but why?"

"He intends to execute Ser Gregor Clegane." I bit my lip and fidgeted, "He did some very bad things, so I understand, but grandfather really wanted him back."

Poor Lord Royce was starting to look a little green around the gills. "What is to happen then?"

"I don't know. Ser Crakehall says that you should be executed if they kill Ser Gregor. Lord Wylde and Lord Staedmon agree. I don't! And, Ser Barristan says that we should send you in all haste to King's Landing, let my grandfather deal with you."

"Lord Lannister has gone south?"

"Yes, he has to go fight the Tyrells. My brother killed Ser Loras, and now Highgarden is swearing revenge."

I could see the possibilities flashing across his eyes. His choices of immediate execution or a rough journey with broken ribs to King's Landing. Even should he survive, he would then be a hostage to my grandfather, the man who had just recently tortured and executed captives. Not promising prospects. As he mulled over his dire fate, I pounced.

"Lord Royce… I want to try one more time to reason with my uncle. I just feel so disadvantaged in the negotiations; I don't understand what is going on between you and him! Can you tell me more about why the Vale has not rallied to him already? If I knew what was going on, I might be able to sway him."

"It's Lysa. She's afraid." Nestor blinked in surprise, but then continued speaking, with great frustration. "She's convinced that if she commits the Vale, she and her son will be killed by the Lannisters. But her inaction makes that possibility even more likely! She's mad with grief and worry and needs a strong guiding hand to rule for her."

I nodded along. "You are widowed… and you have already acted for almost two decades as steward of the Vale." I paused, "Ah, you wished to marry her and rule on her young son's behalf until he comes of age. I've known you but a short while, and I can already see how advantageous it would be for all the Vale."

"Yes," his voice was tinged with weary frustration, "but she said that her grief was too fresh. She instead bade me to seek vengeance against the Lannisters on her behalf, but to pretend it was not done by her command."

Even I was surprised by how much he was sharing.

Now how to turn this to my advantage? Oh, oh, that could work. It could very well not work, but maybe…

"My lord… I wish to approach this delicately. You speak of her being mad with grief, is it possible that that is more than a figure of speech? That she has in fact been broken by her anguish?"

"Her actions do not always make sense, but she speaks clearly and meets the eye of those around her; she jests, and feasts – I do not think she is mad."

Not the answer I was hoping for, but I could only push on, the possible prize too grand to pass by.

"Your loyalty to your liege lady does you justice. Truly, you exemplify what it means to be a noble house of the Vale. And yet, I wonder if your steadfast loyalty may make you blind to see just how disturbed Lady Lysa may be."

He frowned, but I could tell that he was curious what I meant. "Lady Lysa departed from King's Landing with utmost haste, literally in the middle of the night, without even speaking to my father. Why?"

Lord Royce frowned, "She didn't say at first, but after King Robert's death, she claimed to me in confidence that Lord Arryn was poisoned by your mother."

"She believed that my mother poisoned the Hand and then did not bring that accusation to the King? My father loved Lord Arryn; he told me on many occasion that there was no man more honorable and wiser than Jon Arryn," I fibbed. He may have thought that, but my conversations with him were not common and did not touch on the subject. "Does that seem rational to you?"

"A widow's confusion and grief, perhaps she feared she would not be believed."

"Perhaps, but then she would be most eager to avenge the death of her husband once she had the opportunity, and yet…"

Nestor saw where I was going with this. If she truly believed that the Lannisters were to blame, then why not rally the banners and ensure their downfall?

It was time to add a massive lie, one that had many potential witnesses who could expose it, but they were all in King's Landing. "Lady Lysa kept to herself often, which was a shame – little Lord Robert was such an active, excitable boy before his illness. I wish I'd had more opportunity to get to know him."

He seemed confused by the abrupt shift in gears. "It is kind of you to say so, but there is no need to embellish; he's been sickly all his life."

I laughed softly. "Lord Nestor, he practically grew up beside me! He was paler than he should have been, due to always being indoors, and small for his age, I grant you, but he ran around the Red Keep with Tommen on more than one occasion! Why, he was so hale and hearty, father was pushing for him to be fostered at Dragonstone! It was a pity that he came down with the blood sickness right before he was to travel. Grand Maester Pycelle assured us all that it was temporary, but it was best not to risk the travel by sea." I paused for dramatic effect. "That was why my father was so cross with Lady Lysa; he was concerned for his namesake's travel."

"He… he has not recovered; in fact, what you say is different from what Lysa has shared. I… I don't know what to make of this."

I wouldn't push; it was frankly clumsily introduced, but for all his 'wisdom' from ruling the Vale, the man was clearly not sorted out for games of deception. I had limited time and still an unclear understanding of why Lysa was acting this way. Having planted the seed, I moved back to Lysa's theoretical madness.

"My issue with Lady Lysa is that I cannot imagine why she would not back her sister and her father. The North and the Riverlands are drawn as tight as could be to her by bonds of family. The Tully words, 'Family, Duty, Honor – only someone unstable would not honor those bonds."

Nestor was nodding. "Yes, I see, but forgive me, Lady Myrcella, but it appears that you are arguing that the Vale should join the war fully against you."

"Yes, that would be the logical, rational, and honorable thing to do – at least from her point of view. I am suggesting that she is unfit to rule the Vale. The honor of house Arryn should not be marred by a madwoman's irrational actions. Someone, someone who has proven to be a good steward, should take a firm hand, for the good of the Vale."

He shook his head. "I don't understand your meaning. You wish for me to set aside Lysa and rule as Regent for young Lord Robert, to call the banners against your family?"

I laughed again, "No, of course not, my lord. I would expect you to do the honorable thing, to side with the one true King of Westeros, my brother Joffrey Baratheon." I put up a hand to forestall his response, "I know that my uncle has likely inundated you with lies – to my sorrow Lord Stark has believed them too. And my mother's actions could certainly not be construed as honorable; she acted with haste and to be fully transparent, with the same sort of widow's madness that Lysa exhibits."

I pulled back and affected a more confident and resolute body language. "She did not have my father murdered. She did not commit adultery. I am my father's daughter. Joffrey and Tommen are my father's children. A Trial of Seven was fought once, and I would gladly have it repeated once more if that would serve as proof. My uncle is a usurper, who sends assassins in the night to slay his kin and throws away the lives of his subordinates who he views as tools. Away from the incessant lies, I am sure you would see sense and act with honor."

Nestor blinked and fiddled with his blanket. "Lady Myrcella… speak plain, what are you suggesting?"

"I am suggesting that I free you regardless of the negotiations with my uncle. I require no oath, no binding agreement from you that you will do as I suggested. I have come to know you over the last few days; you are made of the same essence as Lord Arryn, as Ser Barristan, and Eddard Stark. Perhaps I am just a foolish child who still believes in the stories of valorous knights and noble lords, but I can do only what I believe to be true."

Lord Royce was stunned. This was a huge risk, but I had to play it. Too much was arrayed against us. I may not have convinced Lord Royce, and even if I had, his convictions may not sufficiently motivate him to commit a coup against his liege lady, and even if he did, there was no guarantee of success. And yet… if it did, the Vale would be in a perfect position to come down the King's Road and help bugger my uncle's army when it finally arrived in King's Landing.

A long shot, but if it didn't work, I'd still have one more enemy who owed me a massive favor.