First, thank you all for your lovely comments, I really appreciate them all. Second I am sorry for taking such a long time to update but I hope that you all enjoy reading the new chapter.
TYRION
The sudden stop caused Tyrion to slam his head against the hard wooden wall, making him see stars for the first time since he had been locked in his own personal hell. The pain flaring through his skull made him suck in a breath, which Tyrion dearly wished he had not done.
The smell made his eyes water and the foul stench that he had been cursed to live in for weeks now burned on his tongue. Nothing but darkness and the ever-worsening reek of himself was threating to drive him mad.
Only the occasional visit from Ser Barristan allowed Tyrion to cling to his sanity.
The knight would come and tell him how his niece and nephew were safe and doing well and tell him to stay strong until they reached their destination.
It was hard to believe that Barristan the Bold would suffer a man to be locked in a crate, no matter how dire the situation was. However, with Varys the spider whispering in the man´s ear, everything was made that much harder for Tyrion to predict.
In the five years Tyrion had spent in King´s Landing, he had never been able to figure out what the man was planning or what the eunuch wanted.
A knock on the crate made Tyrion jump as the familiar voice of the fabled knight carried to him. "Lord Tyrion, please move to the other side. I am going to let you out."
Almost as soon as Tyrion had made it away from where the knight´s voice came from, something slammed into the top of the crate, forcing it apart as the nails holding it together shrieked in protest.
Crawling out into the light, a small voice cried out and he could feel someone small kneel beside him. "Uncle Tyrion, are you alright?"
"Yes, I am fine, sweetling." His voice raspy with disuse as the pain in his body after weeks in the cursed crate wracked through him. However, despite the agony Tyrion smiled at his niece. "I will be as right as rain in a few moments." Or when I finally get some good wine in my belly.
Myrcella´s small hands gripped his arms in a tightly before throwing her arms around him, tactfully ignoring the stench that clung to Tyrion.
Hugging his niece close to him, Tyrion´s mismatched eyes looked over her shoulder, searching for little Tommen. Tyrion spotted the boy quickly, standing by Ser Barristan´s legs while clutching his little kitten close to his chest. The boy´s large emerald eyes looked teary and he looked like he had lost a lot of his roundness that he had spotted ever since Tyrion had known him.
Pulling out of the hug, Tyrion held Myrcella at arm´s length. Thankful that the light was rather dim in the building they were in as his eyes were used to the darkness of his prison, Tyrion could see that someone had cut Myrcella´s lovely golden curls short and dyed them dull, muddy brown.
"Are the two of you well?" A frown made its way to Tyrion´s face, seeing how pale and tried both children looked.
Tommen stayed silent, hiding his face in the kitten´s fur, leaving his older sister to answer. "Do not worry about us uncle, lord Varys and Ser Barristan have done their best by us." The way she spoke and carried herself reminded Tyrion so much of Jaime, before Aerys Targaryen had placed the white cloak on his shoulders, causing a sharp pain in his chest, not knowing what had become of his brother.
Either he had died fighting in King´s Landing or he had managed to escape the capital. Ser Jaime Lannister would not go down without a fight.
Taking his eyes of the children, Tyrion allowed himself a quick look around, noticing the high ceilings of the building and few windows that allowed the orange rays of the sun to enter. However, his few was blocked by high walls of even more crates, many of which were branded with the familiar sigil of house Stark, snarling ferociously.
A sneaking suspicion entered his heart as he directed his words to the two men in the room. "Where are we?"
"We are in White Harbor, lord Tyrion." Ser Barristan answered calmly, standing tall and Tyrion thought he could see a glint of excitement in his blue eyes.
"What?" Staring at the tall man, hoping that he had misheard the man, but when the Kingsguard only repeated that they were indeed in the largest city of the North, Tyrion had to steady himself on that hated crate.
"Why in the seven hells are we in the North?" He bellowed, his fury rising in his gut. "I thought that you were taking us somewhere safe?"
"Right now, the North is the safest place for us to be." Varys tittered as he handed Tyrion new clothing to change into to replace the formerly red and golden clothing he had been wearing when they had left the capital. "And do keep your voice down, we do not want to alert the guards to our presence."
Taking the clothing, hardly realizing what he was doing, Tyrion made his way behind the crate so that he could change in relative privacy. Thoughts fluttered around in his mind at such speed that he could barely finish one before another had pushed its way to the forefront.
"How on earth is the North the safest place for us to be?" He asked the spy master as he took off his jerkin. "I think that I will be rather noticeable here in the North, as the only dwarf for miles around and with my unique looks."
While Myrcella and Tommen could pass for Northerners with their dyed hair, Tyrion was harder to explain.
"I do not think that many will think to look for us here, my lord." Varys said with a smile that made Tyrion think that the Spider knew something that he did not.
The more Tyrion thought about it, he could see the truth in his words. He doubted that anyone would think that they had gone North, when these lands were ruled by Robert´s best and dearest friend, Lord Eddard Stark.
"And where will we go now? Somewhere into the wilderness and hope and pray for my father to win against all odds so that we may return to the capital?" Tyrion growled out, as he laced up his new plain woolen pants.
"No, of course not." Varys said with an even wider smile on his face. "We are going to Winterfell."
The eunuch´s words made Tyrion stop what he was doing and stare at the man.
"Have you lost your mind?"
The eunuch only stared at him with a simpering smile on his face and a twinkle in his eyes. "No, I have not lost my mind but seeking refuge with lord Stark is the best option for us all."
Tyrion continued to stare at the man before him with his fingers still tangled in the laces of the breeches. "How in the world is seeking refuge with Robert Baratheon´s best friend a good idea?"
Tyrion knew well that the friendship between Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark were not as smooth as it had been but the lord of Winterfell´s honor and loyalty was renowned throughout all of Westeros.
He was sure that if they showed up at lord Eddard Stark´s doorstep, the man was honor bound to keep true to his vows of fealty to his friend and King.
"Come now my lord." Varys said calmly. "You of all people know the stories of how Eddard Stark was angered when your father presented the bodies of Aegon and Rhaenys Targaryen before Robert Baratheon. You know that if Lyanna Stark had not been killed, they might never have reconciled."
Tyrion frowned at the Essosi man before him. While everything the man was saying was true and very much public knowledge, there was like something was scratching at his mind, like Varys´s wording was somehow peculiar and deliberate.
"And you truly think that Eddard Stark will not hand us all to Robert?" Tyrion asked as he continued to dress himself in the scratchy woolen clothing that he had been given.
"Yes, I am sure that he will not harm us nor give us to Robert Baratheon." There it was again, the scratching in his brain, however he chose to ignore it. For now.
"Lord Tyrion," Ser Barristan spoke up. "Lord Varys and I are in the same boat now as you, if Robert Baratheon catches any of us, our lives are forfeit; and you have my word that I will not allow any harm come to young Myrcella and Tommen while I still draw breath."
Tyrion´s eyebrows rose high on his forehead in astonishment. Then the surprise diminished. Of course, they would be hunted by Robert as well as they were now here in the North and not in King´s Landing serving Robert, instead they were helping Myrcella, Tommen and Tyrion himself to hide from the King´s wrath.
The King would most likely not take kindly to his master of Whispers and the lord commander of his Kingsguard taking the children of Cersei and Jaime without his leave and trying to keep them safe from his fury.
When Tyrion finished dressing, Varys gestured for them to follow him to a table in the corner of the warehouse that was miraculously empty of any workers.
"Where are all the workers?" Tyrion asked the master of Whispers as he took a seat by the table, in between little Tommen and sweet Myrcella.
The spider smiled softly at him. "Oh, the warehouse master and his men are taking a long lunch break today, I believe someone is getting married or just had a child."
Tyrion was sure that the man before him knew exactly why the warehouse was empty and the very reason they had it now, all for themselves.
"So, how are we going to get to Winterfell? Fly?" Tyrion asked in a snide tone while running his eyes over the table hoping to spot a bottle of wine; only to be disappointed.
Feeling a small but sharp elbow in his side at his words, he looked to where Myrcella was staring at her with her wide green eyes. "Uncle Tyrion, please lord Varys is only trying to help us."
While the little girl before him looked just like his sister, the way she behaved could not have been more different and Tyrion was happy that she had inherited Jaime´s better nature.
Not many people knew how kind and gentle Jaime could be, they only saw the Kingslayer because it was what they wanted to see.
Tyrion was not sure that the honorable Eddard Stark would be happy to open his home to the dwarf brother and the bastard children of Jaime Lannister that had been born of incest.
Lord Stark´s dislike of Tyrion´s brother was famous throughout the whole of Westeros. Tyrion also knew that the fact that Lord Eddard had judged Jaime guilty immediately when he saw him, irked the golden lion of Lannister like a rash that just would not go away.
Tyrion glanced at little Tommen, who was silently hugging his little kitten close, staring at him as well but with much less displeasure and more uncertainty.
Though as much as Tyrion was certain that Eddard Stark disliked Jaime and house Lannister, he was sure that the man would never deliver innocent children, bastards born of incest or not, to King Robert to be killed.
Glancing back to the two children, the thought of waiting for the right moment and whisking them away to try and make it to the Westerlands on their own entered his mind, only to be pushed aside quickly. Tyrion doubted that he could lead them all the way from White Harbor to the eastern most holds sworn to his father, much less Casterly Rock. Likely they would never even make it past the Neck.
A soft knock that tapped out a playful rhythm could be heard not far away, causing Varys to stand up without a word and glide away. Watching the spy master go towards the noise, Tyrion used the opportunity to speak to the knight.
"What has been happening while I was stuck in that hateful box?" The older man looked uncomfortable under his mismatched gaze but kept himself as tall and proud as if he was draped in the pure white of the Kingsguard instead of the dull grey and brown leathers and wool that would have been at home on a common sellsword.
"War is now a certainty between Robert and your father." The man´s blue eyes flicked to the children. "But we should talk about it later."
He wanted to keep pressuring the man to answer his questions but glancing at little Tommen made him hold his tongue. The young boy seemed on the brink of tears as he clung to his kitten and leaned against the knight.
"How are we getting to Winterfell?"
"Lord Varys has arranged a wagon for us, and we will be leaving as soon as it is ready." The knight put his arm around the frightened boy. "If we are lucky, we will be there in two weeks' time."
"Everything is ready, it is time to leave." Tyrion jumped at hearing the Spider´s voice. The man was standing there holding cloaks in his arms that he handed out and ordered for them to put their hoods up.
Tyrion slid of the chair, his legs paining him as he followed the others to the doors. Having been locked in a small box for weeks had racked havoc on his body, cementing the belief in his mind that he would not be making his way to the West on his own, with two children to protect.
Despite the pain, Tyrion was glad to be walking. However as soon as they made it outside, he had to shield his eyes from the sun. Even the evening sun´s rays were too harsh on his eyes after weeks in the box, when he did not have the shadows of the warehouse to hide in.
Walking through the streets of White Harbor, Tyrion was struck by the noise and hassle of the city. Despite knowing that it was the largest Northern city, he had always imagined it much smaller than it really was.
As his eyes slowly got used to the light, he noticed that a lot of the buildings looked new and even if the streets were filled with people rushing around, they looked clean and the air smelled of the sea rather than the shit and filth of the capital.
However, it was far colder, causing Tyrion to tug the cloak tighter around him to keep the chilly air away from his pained body as the desire for a jug of wine grew stronger.
At this moment he would have given his right arm for a drop of Arbor gold, Dornish red or even Dragonwater. Perhaps now that he was in the North, it would be easier for him to get his hands on a barrel of it.
There was little time to ponder more on the desired liquid as he had to rush to keep up with the other four. As much as he wanted to indulge in his vices, Tyrion had no intention of letting his niece and nephew out of his sight.
Varys led them to a large inn, where an older man was standing by a wagon filled with barrels, that two large draft horses had been hitched too. The Spider handed the man a bag that sounded like it was filled with coin, which the seller accepted and fled, almost knocking Tyrion to the ground in his hurry to get away.
Wordlessly the bald man gestured for them to climb on to the wagon and when Tyrion had settled beside Myrcella and Tommen amongst the containers, he noticed the smell that lingered in the air around them.
The stench of fish was sure to latch itself on to his clothing and body before they had even left the city. However, the smell of fish was preferable to the stench that was even now still clinging to him after a change of clothing. What he would not do for a bath and a mug of wine at this very moment.
As soon as Varys and Ser Barristan had sat down, the spy master grabbed the reins and urged the horses to walk.
Rubbing his aching legs, Tyrion glanced up at the buildings all around him. Despite all the mermen of house Manderly decorating what he was sure was every available space, the ruling house of White Harbor still made sure that the white and grey banner of their liege lord was proudly displayed.
Looking at the snarling grey direwolf of house Stark, Tyrion wondered if they would be shown the same hostility as their sigil seemed to be displaying as it flew over the city of house Manderly.
JON ARRYN
With a heavy heart the lord of the Vale watched his little girl and wife make the long and dangerous climb to the Eyre. Listening to Alys´s cries from her septa´s arms as the mules carried them to Stone, cut through him like hot daggers and turning away was the hardest thing he had ever done in his long and eventful life.
"My lord, they will be safe up there. The Eyrie has never been taken by force." Bronze Yohn gave him a pat on the shoulder.
"I know but it is still hard to say goodbye." They made their way back to the castle as guards in sky blue cloaks followed them like pale shadows.
In his heart, he knew that this was for the best. Alys, Lysa and their unborn child would be safer in the Eyrie than anywhere else in the Seven Kingdoms.
No armies had ever managed to take the seat of house Arryn and unless someone managed to hatch dragons and ride them to the top, it would remain unconquered.
As they made their way to the gates of the Moon, Jon could still hear the faint cries of his daughter, his old and weathered heart clenching at the sound. Focusing his attention on the castle before his eyes, Jon tried to block out Alys´s weeping by reminding himself that he needed all his strength and patience for what lay ahead.
He dreaded having to meet the lords, to see if any of them had been swept away by Harry Hardyng and his charms.
Jon had met the lad twice before, once when Lady Anya had brought him with her to the capital and when he had stopped on the way back from the North five years ago. Jon had not been impressed by Ser Harry then but now Jon could feel such hatred for the lord of house Hardyng that it was like his blood was on fire.
Yohn had told him more about Harry Hardyng on their journey. According to the lord of Runestone, the young knight was looking more like Jon himself with every passing day when the lord of the Eyre had been a young man and that Ser Harry was skilled with a sword and lance.
Yohn had also told him that this was where any similarities between them ended.
It seemed that even though the young man looked like Jon when he had been a strapping youth, lord Harry had a lot more in common with Robert than he ever did with his maternal uncle.
"You will not have to be separated from your wife and daughter for long, Jon. We will put this thing with Hardyng to bed and when the war with Lord Tywin has been won, you will be reunited with your family." Yohn tried to assure him but Jon could hear that there was doubt in the other man´s eyes.
If there was one of his lords, he knew that could be absolutely trusted with anything, it was Bronze Yohn Royce. "I may not live long enough to see the end of the war."
This was the first time he had said these words out loud; he was so afraid that he would die and leave Alys, Lysa and their unborn babe alone in this world.
The Lord of Runestone frowned. "Yes, I suppose that is always a possibility but I think that all the lords of the Vale would be not only understanding if you lead from the back, I think that they would prefer it."
Jon snorted at the suggestion. "And give Hardyng more reason to call me weak?"
"Jon, you have shown yourself to be a capable warrior not only in the rebellion but also in the war of the Five Penny Kings. No one can say that you have not been anything but a great lord and an even better friend." Despite the other man trying to reassure him, Jon was having a hard time believing those words.
In his youth, Jon had been a warrior but those days had long since passed. Jon had not even entered the training yard for twenty years and he was sure that if he picked up a sword now, he would be easily bested by anyone who was in the least bit competent with a blade in their hands.
"If the lords are calling me weak, then I have to prove them wrong, you know that I cannot do that if I am hiding behind them like a child."
Jon knew that if the lords were to respect Alys´s right to inherit his lordship if Lysa lost their child nor it was born a girl, then they would have to respect him and his wishes.
"Lord Tywin leads from the back and no one calls him weak. So, why should you be called weak for doing the same."
"Maybe they should." Jon did not realize he had said those words until it was too late.
"What do you mean?" The man asked him but Jon only shook his head.
"It does not matter." Jon was not an admirer of the Lord of Casterly Rock and his deeds, he could still remember the look on Tywin´s and Robert´s faces when the children of Rhaegar Targaryen had been brought forth and shown to the new King.
The horror he had felt when Robert called the innocent babes dragonspawn and how the man did not seem to care at all that they had been murdered in cold blood, was carved into his mind.
As was the day when he had learned what Tywin Lannister had drowned all the inhabitants of the castle in the mines where they had sought refuge.
Even though the man had committed such atrocities, no King, not Jaehaerys the second, Aerys the Mad nor Robert had sought to punish the man for brutally murdering the women and children who had no part in Lord Reyne´s treason against Lord Tytos. Mad King Aerys had even named Tywin hand of the King a year after he had ended both house Reyne and house Tarbeck.
And Jon himself had urged Robert to take the man´s daughter as his new wife and Queen. Oh, how the shame burned at him.
At the time it had been a good political match, the new King marrying the daughter of the richest man in Westeros but how much of a man´s honor and sense of justice could be sacrificed for the sake of politics?
Now when he thought about the terrors that Tywin Lannister had wrought, he could see sweet, innocent, little Alys among the dead children.
He turned to look at his friend again. "I have to make sure that the lords of the Vale are behind me when I ride for war." It filled him with sorrow that he would likely be spending his last years fighting another war when all he wanted to do was to stay here in the Vale.
If he lived through this war, then he would resign as hand of the King and spend the rest of his life in the Vale with his wife and daughter and hopefully his and Lysa´s unborn child.
Jon knew that Robert would be furious if he resigned his office but he knew that the man would get over it; eventually.
Robert might claim that he had to stay on as hand of the King and help him rule the Seven Kingdoms but Jon could not do anything to help him if the man did not listen.
They walked in silence to the gates of the Moon, despite the uncertainty he felt at the situation regarding the lords of the Vale, Jon felt better meeting them in his own castle, surrounded by the faithful Arryn guards.
Jon and Yohn met the castellan at the entrance that led to the winding path to the Eyre. "All the lords have assembled in the hall my lord; will you be needing to change attire and take a bath?"
While new clothing and a bath was something he greatly desired, he did not want to make the lords wait for too long. "No, have the lords been given bread and salt as ordered?"
"Yes, my Lord." The castellan led them into the castle and Jon fell once again in step with Yohn. "I am glad that your brother and his daughter are with Lysa and Alys, I am sure that Lord Nestor will keep them safe."
"It is quite an honor to be trusted with such an important task, I am sure that he will do everything in his power to keep them safe, for as long as needed." Yohn smiled at him, with pride shining in his eyes.
"Yes, I am sure that he will prove equal to this task just like any other I have asked of him." Lord Nestor was a capable man and had served him well for a long time. "I will have to reward him for his services soon."
When they entered the hall, everyone fell silent.
He could see banners from every corner of the Vale but his eyes immediately sought out the man who was responsible for his ire, Lord Harry Hardyng. The young man was sitting beside Ser Lyn Corbrey, who was smirking at something that the younger man was saying while he sent his older brother, the Lord of Heart´s Home a satisfied look.
It did not surprise Jon that the young Lord was friends with Ser Lyn, both men likely bonding over the fact that they were waiting for their kin to die so that they claim their Lordships.
Jon took his seat at the head table, wanting to get this over and done with.
"My lords, thank you all for coming." He looked over the hall, trying his hardest not to stare angerly at Harry Hardyng. "I know that the travel must have been uncomfortable and most of us would like to be at home with our families."
A few chuckles could be heard but many of the lords remained stone-faced, glaring at one another as if trying to determine which of the lords favored Hardyng and who was loyal to the lord of the Vale.
Now sitting there in front of the lords, Jon had to wonder which ones could be trusted and who were backing young Harry. His blue eyes turned to lady Anya Waynwood, who was sitting stiffed back and stern faced. The lady of Waynwood had been his friend for many long years but would it be enough for her to stand against her nephew, the young man she had raised?
"I know that many of us have our disagreements but I think that we can all agree that Lord Tywin cannot be allowed to ravage the Seven Kingdoms in an attempt to seize the Iron throne." Lords like Yohn Royce, Horton Redfort and Arlyn Ruthermont were nodding at his words but the tension in the air seemed to grow even more.
"Yet another war for King Robert Baratheon." Old lord Dutton spoke, his gnarly hands gripping the handle of his walking stick. "It seems strange to me that there have been more wars in his reign than in the years that the mad King Aerys sat on the Iron throne."
It was like a huge bolder had been dropped into his belly at the older man´s words.
"The mad King burned people alive for his own amusement." Lady Anya looked offended at the very mention of the last Targaryen King, much to Jon´s relief. "I do not think that the two are comparable."
"Perhaps." Lord Dutton leaned forward, his grey eyes on the dignified woman. "Perhaps not but you cannot deny that I am right."
Straight-backed and proud, Anya Waynwood did not back down. "Be that as it may, I hardly think that King Robert can be blamed for the Greyjoy rebellion and it was his duty to put it down, nor is it his fault that Jaime and Cersei Lannister were having indecent relations."
"Can he not be blamed?" Ser Lyn Corbrey snorted with a grin on his handsome face. "I say that it is his fault. The man could not even keep his wife in line, how can he manage the Seven Kingdoms?"
Jon felt the blood drain from his face as the tensions rose in the hall. He knew that many of the lords were angry at him for not having sent Lysa to the silent sisters and taken a new proper wife, preferably one of their own daughters. However, he had never thought that anyone had the gall to insult him to his face; in his own hall none the less.
"We are not here to discuss the differences between King Robert and Aerys Targaryen." Casting his shock at the young knight´s brazen insults aside, for now; the lord of the Eyre tried to steer the conversation back to where he wanted. "What we need to do is get ready for war against lord Tywin."
"Why?" Lord Alesandor Torrent spoke in his loud tone, his thin frame turning to look at the lords gathered in the room. "Why should we ride to fight another of Robert Baratheon´s wars?" A few agreements were heard around the hall as Jon looked at Lord Sunderland, the man´s liege lord.
Despite having spent years on the King´s small council, Jon could not force the frown from his face at the man´s non reaction at his vassal´s words.
"That is treason." Lord Belmore gasped as his reddish grey beard shook with the force of his words. "You would go against the lord of the Seven Kingdoms?"
"Why ever not?" Lord Torrent leapt to his feet, staring intently at the large lord who had spoken. "From what I hear, lords of the North are staying in the North, not rushing to aid house Baratheon. So, why should we?"
The thin man turned to look at the lords; his thick lips pulled in a furious expression. "We are closer to the Northerners than we have ever been to the Stormlords, so we should follow their example and stay out of this war. We have enough trouble with the Mountain Clans as it is, we do not need to-."
"Enough." With a sharp pain in his hips, Jon rose fast to his feet and slammed his fist on the table in anger, causing the lords to look at him in surprise. "Lord Belmore has the right of it, your words are that of treason."
Alesandor Torrent´s face turned red, with anger or shame, Jon did not know and the lord of the Eyre knew better than to give the man a chance to speak. "If King Robert was here to hear them, he would have had you executed."
Letting the words linger on everyone´s mind for a moment, Jon continued as he sat back down, his hips burning and his hands shaking with anger. "I shall hear no more of this, we are the men of the Vale and shall conduct ourselves with honor and defend the throne against Lord Tywin as we have sworn to do."
Watching as lord Torrent sneered as he sat back down, Jon felt a wave of exhaustion crash over him. The longing to have gone with his wife and child to the Eyre was growing stronger by the moment.
Perhaps the lords were right and he was getting too old to govern the Vale.
No, he was not too old. Steeling himself, the Warden of the East started to lay out his plans for the knights of the Vale to rally at the Bloody Gates and from there they would go to Riverrun, where they would meet the army of the Riverlords.
Hours later, when it had turned dark outside the walls of the castle, he finally ended the meeting and was met with grumbles and halfhearted nods as the lords rose to leave the hall.
Leaving the great hall and making his way to the darkened hall, Jon felt the weariness creep into his old bones. The lords had been too skittish for his liking, never in his life had he seen them like this; not even when he had ordered them to ride against Aerys Targaryen had they been so unnerved, when even some had rebelled against him in favor of the Mad King.
Jon made his way to the lord´s bedchamber, leaving the sword Lysa had given him by the door and sat down on his warm and comfortable bed. Candles around the room had been lit, bathing it in an orange glow that made it look almost foreboding as his thoughts.
Staring at his hands in the low light of the candles, Jon felt like he was on a rowboat on the Narrow Sea during an autumn storm with no land in sight. These hands had not wielded a sword since the Rebellion against the Mad King and even then, it had mostly been for show.
He was no longer the warrior that he used to be.
Letting out a sigh, he kicked off his boots and laid down on the soft bed, hoping that he would at least get some sleep before they had to leave for the Bloody Gate.
The noise startled him, forcing his blue eyes wide open but he could see nothing. But that could not be, Jon had only just closed his eyes and he had not blown out the candles.
Jon did not have time to reach for the boots on the floor when a young man, clad in fine doublet with five broken lances on a yellow field on his breast burst into his bedchamber.
The young man did not give Jon a chance to speak. "My lord, you much make the climb up the Eyre."
"Make the climb…? Are you mad? It has turned dark; it would be too dangerous to try and leave for the Eyre now."
"My lord it is suicide for you to stay here." The young man said, his eyes wild. It took Jon a moment to recognize the heir of lord Wydman; Ser Aerion Wydman, who had served as Lyn Corbrey´s squire in the Rebellion.
"What in the name-."
"They mean to kill you, my lord." Ser Aerion spoke, his face pale and his voice shaking. "We must get you to safety."
Rising from his bed, Jon grabbed his boots. "Who means to kill me? What on earth is happening?" The young knight looked around the bedchamber as Jon pulled on his boots.
Ser Aerion grabbed the sword Jon had taken of his person what he felt like was only a few moments ago and held it out for the older man.
Taking the sword from Ser Aerion´s hand, Jon hurriedly strapped it around his hips but before he had even finished attaching it, the young knight grabbed his arm and started to drag him out of the bedchamber.
Outside the bedchamber, a few Arryn guards were waiting for them with blood on their pale blue and white armor.
"This way, my lord." The young heir to house Wydman dragged Jon forward by the arm, heading to the gate that led to Stone. Normally Jon would never consent to being dragged around by one of his vassals or their heirs like an errant child however, the confusion and the noise only seemed to enhance the need to follow the young man.
Rushing through the dimly lit corridors, they ran into a few guards wearing the soaring falcon on their breast and lord Yohn, all the men were covered in blood and dirt and their wide eyes were flooded with relief when they spotted him.
"Jon, we have to go, now, they have breached the gate." Yohn walked forward, his determination bleeding into his steps and posture. "Is there a secret passage out of the castle we can use?"
"Yes, there is. One that leads into the mountains." Jon said, his words as faint as a whisper. "But what about Alys and Lysa? Who is attacking? Have the waycastles been warned?"
Yohn grabbed his shoulder and stared into his eyes. "The waycastles have been warned, I have sent ravens and riders up to warn them, now you need to lead us to the passage into the mountains if we are to escape, they cannot catch you."
Jon nodded and forced his pained body to rush forward with the others following in his steps. The lord of the Vale had never used the passage before, he had only seen it when his father had shown him the escape route when he had been a child, yet the way was clear in his mind, the fear of having to ever use them always been in the back of his mind.
"Who are attacking?" Jon asked as they rushed through the castle. "It cannot be the Mountain -Clans."
The thought of the Mountain Clans managing to breach the castle was absurd but the words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them, anyone else having the nerve to attack Gates of the Moon was unthinkable.
"It was Harry Hardyng and his dogs." Lord Yohn spat out, the righteous fury plain on his face.
Jon had known that Ser Harry wanted to become the lord of the Vale but to attack the Gates of the Moon when he had been offered guest rights was something that Jon had never imagined him capable of doing.
"But Ser Harry ate the salt and bread, even a man as ambitious as he would not dare after accepting guest rights."
Yohn snorted as they entered the cellars. "The boy and his supporters made a show of leaving the castle after you left the hall. I suspect that they left some of their own men behind so that they could be let back in so no one could accuse them of dishonoring guest rights."
"That will never work, lord." Ser Aerion growled, anger shining brightly in his eyes. "It is a low trick that every lord in the Vale will see through."
They arrived at door to the deep cellars, where large barrels the size of three large men standing on each other's shoulders were kept.
Jon led the men to the end of the row on the right, where he pulled at tap and twisted it, revealing the front of the barrel to be a door. As they entered, Jon made his way to the wall on the left and grabbed an unlit torch that had hung there for an unknown number of years.
One of the guards stepped forward and lit the torch in Jon´s hand as he turned to the last men entering the dark tunnels. "Close the door behind you, with luck they may not figure out how we escaped."
They walked in silence as the torches created dancing shadows on the walls that almost seemed to mock Jon for his flight out of his own castle.
"I am sorry Jon." Came the rumbling voice of Yohn Royce. "I should have known that Hardyng was planning something like this."
"How could you have known?" Jon countered, turning slightly to look at his long-time friend. "You could never have guessed that the boy would have taken such drastic measures to usurp me and my heirs."
"Still, I should have-."
"No, Yohn." Jon interrupted, turning to look the man in the eye. "You could not have known what the boy was planning, unless of course you have gained the ability to know what other people think. I owe you my life, you and the others here risked your lives for house Arryn and I will never forget it."
Sending lord Royce a small smile, hoping to reassure him that he was not to blame, Jon turned again and continued to walked into the darkness.
