Council of the Vale
The Eyrie...
Lysa skittered about the Great Hall, barking orders at the servants and men-at-arms as she made the final preparations for the arrival of the Lords Bannermen. Lysa Tully had confined herself to the impregnable fortress of the Arryns atop the Giant's Lance since the death of her husband. While second sons and distinguished knights had frequented the castle in hope of wedding the widowed Lady Arryn, the only time she had truly hosted any lord of import was at the trial of Tyrion Lannister. Stumbling ungracefully upon a crack in the stone floor, Lysa attempted to banish that fiasco from her mind for what seemed like the thousandth time. Her wretched sister had dragged that cretin of an Imp to her home and had forced her to deal with him. All would have been fine had not that sell-sword intervened. Her Sweetrobin could have thrown the Imp out of the Moon Door and one more Lannister would be out of her way. Alas, the Warrior provided enough strength to that...Bronn...for some reason only the Seven knew, and goodly Ser Vardis was slain.
Momma?
Her thoughts were blessedly broken when she heard the soft voice of her son. The Lord of the Eyrie and Defender of the Vale stood before her distraught. His tunic of sky blue silk, emblazoned with the ornate Moon-and-Falcon sigil of House Arryn was askew upon his small body. His sword - so much that it was - at his hip was dragging across the stone floor behind him and his doll held tight to his chest.
What is it my dear Sweetrobin? What has happened to you?
In a small voice, humble and weak beyond his seven years, responded,
Momma, I don't want the Lords to come. I don't want to see them. Why can't they stay away? Pappa could make them go away. I am the Lord and I don't want them here.
Proceeding carefully so that she wouldn't trigger one of his shaking fits, Lysa spoke reassuringly,
But Robert, we must see the Lords. We have exciting news to give them and you must be here to show them how big and strong you are. We wouldn't want to be rude to the men whom will come to serve you when you get older should we?
Defeated, Robert lowered his head. Lysa hunched down to her son's level and adjusted his shirt. With a smile, she laced up his belt properly and hugged him. Despite his age and his illness, he was her only child and all she had left of Jon, even if she truly didn't love him. Her smile, however sincere for her son, quickly retreated from her face when she saw the armored figure of Ser Marwyn Belmore. With a head of thick red hair, and an ungainly torso, the Eyrie's Captain of the Guard bowed to Lysa and Robert before addressing them.
M'lord, m'lady, I have received word that the Lords have begun their ascent from Sky. They should be here within the hour.
With a flick of her wrist, the Captain was dismissed as Lysa returned to her last minute arrangements. What seemed like five minutes later, she heard the shuffling and noise of the arrival of a larger party than she had anticipated. Clearing her head, she ushered Robert into the Weirwood Throne of House Arryn, sitting defensively next to him as the Lords were escorted in.
Lysa and Robert await the Lords
Coming before them, Lysa could remember most of who arrived. As they bowed in deference to the Lord Paramount of the Vale and his Lady-Regent, Lysa picked out the stoic Lord Yohn Royce. The man, known as "Bronze Yohn" for his unique suit of armor that he employed in battle, stood nearly a foot taller than the rest of the gathered lords. No doubt he would be the spokesperson for anything they wished to address given the amount of respect and prestige he had earned in all of his years of governance and lordship over Runestone and in service to House Arryn. Standing next to him was Lady Anya Waynwood. Elderly and with a slightly hunched back, she had still retained most of her beauty, as opposed to the deep lines and wrinkles in Lysa's own face. Lord Royce and Lady Waynwood were of a similar opinion most of the time, meaning that her presence was expected and whatever Lord Yohn said, Lady Anya also believed. On the opposite side was hefty, jovial Lord Benedar Belmore. The Lord of Strongsong in the Mountains of the Moon was known for his kindhearted nature. However, he remained a staunch and ardent supporter of House Arryn and was known to fight ferociously in the name of his Lord. Adjacent to Lord Belmore stood surly, emotionless Lord Horton Redfort. Lord Redfort was a strategist through and through. His bushy brown beard - now streaked with gray - hid lips that never smiled. Lysa was convinced that he forgot how long ago. His presence was disconcerting. He was known to have a hate for the Lannisters and everything they stood for. When Lysa was convinced that they had murdered her husband, such was a good asset. However, considering the policy she sought to employ, there is no conceivable way that she would not hear dissent. Squinting her eyes to look passed the major Lords, she saw a young man, no more than 16, dressed elegantly in a sky-blue tunic, similar in style to her son's. He wore a cape, checkered in a deep blue and yellow, and bore a sigil upon his breast that Lysa could not make out. In her characteristic blunt fashion, she questioned him.
Who are you?
With a dashing smile, cocksure in a way that only youth could provide, he took a step towards the throne, bowed gracefully and addressed her.
M'lady, I am Ser Aelix Arryn, of the Arryns of Gulltown. I have come to seek your service, in only a way that family can offer.
With a small gasp, Lady Lysa began to protest, but she was cut off by Lord Royce.
M'lady, we all know the story behind the Gulltown branch of House Arryn. However, with Lord Jon's line dependent upon Lord Robert and then to young squire Harrold Hardyng, it is our opinion and the will of Ser Aelix that his branch of the family be rehabilitated to the main line. House Arryn must rule the Vale, and whether the Arryns of the Eyrie wish it or not, Ser Aelix is an Arryn.
Lysa forced her protest back down her throat. She had never before been so contradicted and it was becoming increasingly clear what this council was becoming. As Robert looked up at her for guidance, she attempted to regain control of the proceedings.
My Lords, I have gathered you here to announce great news. I have received a raven from Lord Tywin, the Hand of the King. He seeks to bestow great rewards upon our House and upon the Vale. Not only will the Crown recognize the ancestral rights of Robert as Warden of the East, but he offers his granddaughter, the Princess Myrcella as bride to our Lord Robert.
Lysa's triumphant smile soon faded as she looked upon the faces of her son's lords. Lady Anya audibly gasped as Lord Horton shook his head in what seemed to be disgust. Lord Belmore spoke up,
And what would Lord Tywin demand of the Vale in return for his granddaughter? Submission I assume? Our armies? The keys to the Eyrie itself?
Lysa's mouth tightened at their insolence.
Lord Tywin requests our armies march for King's Landing, for the defense of the Capital and of His Grace, King Joffrey.
Lord Royce once more spoke.
This, m'lady, is unacceptable. Do you not remember that it was the Lannisters that murdered your husband? Our Lord? Tywin and the Lannisters wreck havoc upon the Seven Kingdoms and you wish to send our armies into the thick of things in the Crownlands against your own nephew? We must join with Robb Stark! Your own brother has united the Riverlands with the Stark cause. Do you wish to war against your own brother?
Enraged, Lysa finally lashed out, forgetting about Robert sitting next to her.
Silence! I will not stand for this insolence. I seek peace and the realm must submit to Joffrey Baratheon! It is the only way! Ser Marwyn, have these men escorted away!
Shaking his head, Lord Yohn Royce looked towards where Ser Marwyn Belmore stood. He gave a slight nod and the Captain of the Guard walked over to the Weirwood Throne. Placing his hand upon the shoulder of Lord Robert, he urged him to stand up and walk over to him, where his mentor and healer, Maester Coleman stood. Quickly, three guards surrounded Lysa and boxed her in.
M'lady, in the name of Robert Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie, Defender of the Vale and Warden of the East, I declare your rule over. You are hereby relieved of your duties. I shall assume the regency of the Vale in the name of Lord Robert, tutor him myself in the arts of governance and warfare, as Lord Jon would have wished. The Vale shall no longer be at the whim and fancy of a woman clearly deranged. M'lady, you shall of course retain the right to see your son, but from now on, Lord Robert is under my protection, and that of his faithful Lords Bannermen.
Forcefully removed from the throne, Lysa struggled against the strength of the guards who were escorting her back to her chambers. Looking angrily about her, yelling obscenities and throwing all of her weight against her captors, she caught the eye of her son. Standing bravely as she was dragged away, Maester Colemon with one hand resting reassuringly upon his shoulder, he just stared, as if he had never seen her face before. Screaming his name, hoping that he would run to her side like he had always done, he stood, still as a statue. Just before they rounded a corner, and Robert was almost out of sight, she began to sob.
Lysa skittered about the Great Hall, barking orders at the servants and men-at-arms as she made the final preparations for the arrival of the Lords Bannermen. Lysa Tully had confined herself to the impregnable fortress of the Arryns atop the Giant's Lance since the death of her husband. While second sons and distinguished knights had frequented the castle in hope of wedding the widowed Lady Arryn, the only time she had truly hosted any lord of import was at the trial of Tyrion Lannister. Stumbling ungracefully upon a crack in the stone floor, Lysa attempted to banish that fiasco from her mind for what seemed like the thousandth time. Her wretched sister had dragged that cretin of an Imp to her home and had forced her to deal with him. All would have been fine had not that sell-sword intervened. Her Sweetrobin could have thrown the Imp out of the Moon Door and one more Lannister would be out of her way. Alas, the Warrior provided enough strength to that...Bronn...for some reason only the Seven knew, and goodly Ser Vardis was slain.
Momma?
Her thoughts were blessedly broken when she heard the soft voice of her son. The Lord of the Eyrie and Defender of the Vale stood before her distraught. His tunic of sky blue silk, emblazoned with the ornate Moon-and-Falcon sigil of House Arryn was askew upon his small body. His sword - so much that it was - at his hip was dragging across the stone floor behind him and his doll held tight to his chest.
What is it my dear Sweetrobin? What has happened to you?
In a small voice, humble and weak beyond his seven years, responded,
Momma, I don't want the Lords to come. I don't want to see them. Why can't they stay away? Pappa could make them go away. I am the Lord and I don't want them here.
Proceeding carefully so that she wouldn't trigger one of his shaking fits, Lysa spoke reassuringly,
But Robert, we must see the Lords. We have exciting news to give them and you must be here to show them how big and strong you are. We wouldn't want to be rude to the men whom will come to serve you when you get older should we?
Defeated, Robert lowered his head. Lysa hunched down to her son's level and adjusted his shirt. With a smile, she laced up his belt properly and hugged him. Despite his age and his illness, he was her only child and all she had left of Jon, even if she truly didn't love him. Her smile, however sincere for her son, quickly retreated from her face when she saw the armored figure of Ser Marwyn Belmore. With a head of thick red hair, and an ungainly torso, the Eyrie's Captain of the Guard bowed to Lysa and Robert before addressing them.
M'lord, m'lady, I have received word that the Lords have begun their ascent from Sky. They should be here within the hour.
With a flick of her wrist, the Captain was dismissed as Lysa returned to her last minute arrangements. What seemed like five minutes later, she heard the shuffling and noise of the arrival of a larger party than she had anticipated. Clearing her head, she ushered Robert into the Weirwood Throne of House Arryn, sitting defensively next to him as the Lords were escorted in.
Lysa and Robert await the Lords
Coming before them, Lysa could remember most of who arrived. As they bowed in deference to the Lord Paramount of the Vale and his Lady-Regent, Lysa picked out the stoic Lord Yohn Royce. The man, known as "Bronze Yohn" for his unique suit of armor that he employed in battle, stood nearly a foot taller than the rest of the gathered lords. No doubt he would be the spokesperson for anything they wished to address given the amount of respect and prestige he had earned in all of his years of governance and lordship over Runestone and in service to House Arryn. Standing next to him was Lady Anya Waynwood. Elderly and with a slightly hunched back, she had still retained most of her beauty, as opposed to the deep lines and wrinkles in Lysa's own face. Lord Royce and Lady Waynwood were of a similar opinion most of the time, meaning that her presence was expected and whatever Lord Yohn said, Lady Anya also believed. On the opposite side was hefty, jovial Lord Benedar Belmore. The Lord of Strongsong in the Mountains of the Moon was known for his kindhearted nature. However, he remained a staunch and ardent supporter of House Arryn and was known to fight ferociously in the name of his Lord. Adjacent to Lord Belmore stood surly, emotionless Lord Horton Redfort. Lord Redfort was a strategist through and through. His bushy brown beard - now streaked with gray - hid lips that never smiled. Lysa was convinced that he forgot how long ago. His presence was disconcerting. He was known to have a hate for the Lannisters and everything they stood for. When Lysa was convinced that they had murdered her husband, such was a good asset. However, considering the policy she sought to employ, there is no conceivable way that she would not hear dissent. Squinting her eyes to look passed the major Lords, she saw a young man, no more than 16, dressed elegantly in a sky-blue tunic, similar in style to her son's. He wore a cape, checkered in a deep blue and yellow, and bore a sigil upon his breast that Lysa could not make out. In her characteristic blunt fashion, she questioned him.
Who are you?
With a dashing smile, cocksure in a way that only youth could provide, he took a step towards the throne, bowed gracefully and addressed her.
M'lady, I am Ser Aelix Arryn, of the Arryns of Gulltown. I have come to seek your service, in only a way that family can offer.
With a small gasp, Lady Lysa began to protest, but she was cut off by Lord Royce.
M'lady, we all know the story behind the Gulltown branch of House Arryn. However, with Lord Jon's line dependent upon Lord Robert and then to young squire Harrold Hardyng, it is our opinion and the will of Ser Aelix that his branch of the family be rehabilitated to the main line. House Arryn must rule the Vale, and whether the Arryns of the Eyrie wish it or not, Ser Aelix is an Arryn.
Lysa forced her protest back down her throat. She had never before been so contradicted and it was becoming increasingly clear what this council was becoming. As Robert looked up at her for guidance, she attempted to regain control of the proceedings.
My Lords, I have gathered you here to announce great news. I have received a raven from Lord Tywin, the Hand of the King. He seeks to bestow great rewards upon our House and upon the Vale. Not only will the Crown recognize the ancestral rights of Robert as Warden of the East, but he offers his granddaughter, the Princess Myrcella as bride to our Lord Robert.
Lysa's triumphant smile soon faded as she looked upon the faces of her son's lords. Lady Anya audibly gasped as Lord Horton shook his head in what seemed to be disgust. Lord Belmore spoke up,
And what would Lord Tywin demand of the Vale in return for his granddaughter? Submission I assume? Our armies? The keys to the Eyrie itself?
Lysa's mouth tightened at their insolence.
Lord Tywin requests our armies march for King's Landing, for the defense of the Capital and of His Grace, King Joffrey.
Lord Royce once more spoke.
This, m'lady, is unacceptable. Do you not remember that it was the Lannisters that murdered your husband? Our Lord? Tywin and the Lannisters wreck havoc upon the Seven Kingdoms and you wish to send our armies into the thick of things in the Crownlands against your own nephew? We must join with Robb Stark! Your own brother has united the Riverlands with the Stark cause. Do you wish to war against your own brother?
Enraged, Lysa finally lashed out, forgetting about Robert sitting next to her.
Silence! I will not stand for this insolence. I seek peace and the realm must submit to Joffrey Baratheon! It is the only way! Ser Marwyn, have these men escorted away!
Shaking his head, Lord Yohn Royce looked towards where Ser Marwyn Belmore stood. He gave a slight nod and the Captain of the Guard walked over to the Weirwood Throne. Placing his hand upon the shoulder of Lord Robert, he urged him to stand up and walk over to him, where his mentor and healer, Maester Coleman stood. Quickly, three guards surrounded Lysa and boxed her in.
M'lady, in the name of Robert Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie, Defender of the Vale and Warden of the East, I declare your rule over. You are hereby relieved of your duties. I shall assume the regency of the Vale in the name of Lord Robert, tutor him myself in the arts of governance and warfare, as Lord Jon would have wished. The Vale shall no longer be at the whim and fancy of a woman clearly deranged. M'lady, you shall of course retain the right to see your son, but from now on, Lord Robert is under my protection, and that of his faithful Lords Bannermen.
Forcefully removed from the throne, Lysa struggled against the strength of the guards who were escorting her back to her chambers. Looking angrily about her, yelling obscenities and throwing all of her weight against her captors, she caught the eye of her son. Standing bravely as she was dragged away, Maester Colemon with one hand resting reassuringly upon his shoulder, he just stared, as if he had never seen her face before. Screaming his name, hoping that he would run to her side like he had always done, he stood, still as a statue. Just before they rounded a corner, and Robert was almost out of sight, she began to sob.
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