Alyssa Arryn was a hard woman. It wasn't that she was emotionless; far from it. She had grown to love her husband. She had smiled when her children were born and radiated a mother's pride when those children succeeded in their lives.
But House Arryn was an old house and Alyssa had steeled herself from a young age to be strong. But somewhere in her heart Alyssa had twisted this pride. She vowed to never show sorrow. No never cry. To never open herself up to the one emotion that would break her wide open.
And that was how she lived.
When she was a young girl and her brother was killed in a skirmish she prayed. When she was a married woman and her children were stillborn she told herself: "There will be others" and she went on to give her husband living heirs. The night her father passed to the realm of the dead this steel-hearted woman did not shed one tear.
When she watched the soldiers fighting to protect the Vale – her home – and her husband was cut down Alyssa Arryn was a pillar of strength. She stood amid the carnage of war with two more dead brothers at her feet and begged the enemy to spare her children. But her eyes did not glisten, not even when her sons' and daughters' blood was spilled in the deep valley below the Eyrie.
Alyssa endured.
Then, one night, the Seven saw fit to call Alyssa from her home in the Vale. She passed peacefully in her sleep and found her soul hovering above her body, floating through the Eyrie, flying over the valley to the grove of weirwood trees.
Alyssa's feet touched the ground. She turned in circles, unnerved by the faces of the Heart Trees. They seemed too real all of a sudden. Too real. And then they began to speak.
"Alyssa of House Arryn."
Seven trees. The seven gods. They were speaking to her in a chorus, each voice discernible but in perfect harmony with the others. Overwhelmed, she fell to her knees.
"You are here to be judged according to how you lived your life. We have watched you and it concerns us deeply that you have never shed a tear. It is in the nature of all people to express their emotions and you have harbored away one of the most powerful."
"But…" Alyssa didn't want to seem rude if she counted the words of her judges because they were right.
"You may speak freely, Alyssa Arryn, but be warned we know what is in your heart.
"I just didn't want to seem weak."
"Being human is not the same as being weak," the voices told her. "That is your first lesson. Your penance will be to cry. Shed those pent up tears in earnest and when they fill the valley your mourning will be over."
"I accept my judgment," she replied. She bowed her head and closed her eyes.
Suddenly a feeling of vertigo took her and she found herself being carried by the wind. She felt faint and dizzy she dropped somewhere hard and rocky. Daring to open her eyes, Alyssa found herself atop a cliff overlooking the Vale. She could see everything from this vantage point, even the valley floor, far below her.
Alyssa reached down deep into her mind and recalled the buried memories she had refused to accept. Foreign sensations began to overwhelm her. Her heart cracked and the sealed font inside her began to overflow. Something stung her eyes, moisture welled up.
Alyssa raised a trembling hand and captured that bead of water. For a long moment she just stared at the tear resting on her fingertip. Finally, she raised her hand toward the sky and bowed her head. The wind kicked up around her and caught the offering, carrying it up to the realm of the gods.
That first tear was the hardest, Alyssa knew; but her penance wouldn't be easy. Tears were trickling down her cheeks and her body was shaking. She soon gave way to sobs and then Alyssa Arryn was crying harder than anyone had ever cried before. And once those tears were released she found she not stop. This was not a bad thing, however, because the valley was large and would take lifetimes to fill.
Catelyn Strark stood in the Eyrie, waiting to be seen by her sister. Recently widowed, Lysa Arryn was the regent here in the East, ruling until her son Robert Arryn would be old enough to take his place as Defender of the Vale.
A stature stood in the room; The Weeping Woman as she was called. This tragic figure was Alyssa Arryn, an ancestor of Lysa's late husband Jon Arryn, who lived some 6000 years ago. Alyssa was forced to cry until her tears filled the valley below the Eyrie, but she still wept.
There was a waterfall, a torrent, that flowed over the cliff but none of it, not even one errant drop, ever reached the valley floor. Because of the immense height of the cliffs the wind dispersed the water so Alyssa's repentance would never be fulfilled.
It was sad, Catelyn thought. So very sad. I wonder though… How large would my own waterfall be?