The last time Ross had been to the Vale she had been fifteen, travelling with Robert and her siblings to Lord Whent's great tourney. They had been on horseback, and it had been spring - a false spring perhaps, but none of them knew that then - and the ice on the road was melting, trees and flowers starting to bloom, a fresh breeze in the air.
Now it was autumn, and apart from a few days of sunshine after leaving King's Landing, the weather worsened the further north they got. Sansa was simply glad to be out of the city for the first time in almost two years and to have her direwolf by her side once more, absurd as Lady looked on the deck of a ship.
But although Ser Davos was one of the best sailors in the Seven Kingdoms, Ross did not particularly enjoy the journey, spending much of the time clinging to the rail with white knuckles as the ship lurched with the steel-grey waves. She was glad when they made port at Gulltown and her feet were on dry land again.
From there their party of fifteen - her, Davos, Sansa and their guards, mostly northmen, including Dacey Mormont - travelled by horse through the mountains, a way she had not come before.
She couldn't help but be struck by the beauty of it all. Snow-capped peaks rose impossibly high in all directions, fir-forests and grassy plains growing beneath craggy rocks, icy rivers cutting through valleys like surging silver knifes, all under a sky that seemed to go on forever. The wildness and the chill in the air reminded her a little of the North, and she felt a sharp stab of longing for home.
Not that travelling through the mountains was easy. Often they got so high that they ended up in the middle of a low-lying cloud, making the already risky paths even more treacherous; this was usually just a small amount of mist, but a couple of times Ross could not even see her own horse's neck through the thick cloud and they were forced to stop until the cloud cleared.
"You'd think the main road between the Eyrie and Gulltown would be more passable," She remarked to Ser Davos, who chuckled in agreement.
She liked the man who had been Stannis' most trusted friend. He was common born, yes, but down to earth, intelligent and above all trustworthy, despite being a smuggler in days gone by. He also never complained, unlike the few Baratheon guardsmen with them.
Ross had been expecting a litany of complaints from Sansa, who was used to a life of luxury, but none came. The girl rode huddled in furs on her horse, and cuddled up to Lady every night, but didn't whine about being cold once, simply politely enquired how much longer they had left every now and again.
Dacey took everything in her stride, as ever, and remained good, cheerful company throughout. Cold like this was nothing to one from the North, as the Stark men joked to the shivering southerners. Why, it hadn't even snowed yet.
The only castle on their route to the Eyrie was Ironoaks, seat of House Waynwood, which lay beside a great lake. Its ruler, Lady Anya, had greying-brown hair and crows feet around her eyes, but welcomed them in a manner that was both stern and courteous. Two of her three adult sons were in attendance, and pleased Ser Davos by not scorning his low birth like many nobles did.
Lady Anya's grandson, Ser Roland Waynwood, seemed remarkably taken with Dacey, who found the whole thing amusing, but remarked to Ross he was 'good looking enough, I suppose'. As Mormont women were not overly bothered about keeping ones maidenhead until marriage, Ross suspected her friend would have a visitor to her chambers later that night.
There was also the surprise addition of Elbert Arryn, nephew of the late Lord Jon. Ross had met the man before; he had been one of her brother Brandon's friends, the youngest of the group who had come tearing into King's Landing at Brandon's side just before the rebellion. As he was only five-and-ten at the time, even Aerys had spared him (or not cared enough to murder him like the others), leaving him to languish in a dungeon for the entire rebellion.
Despite the miracle of his surviving the Mad King, Elbert had been prepared to go running off with Ned into Dorne after the city had fallen. Ross had managed to talk him out of that foolish move, given his heavily weakened state, and he had later thanked her after every single one of that party save Ned and Howland Reed had died at the Tower of Joy.
Evidently that gratitude still held true, for Elbert greeted her warmly with a smile.
"It is good to see you again, Lady Rosennis. Sadly under such unfortunate circumstances - I mourned for your brother when I heard of his death," He was one of the few who sounded sincere, and had known Ned personally.
"My thanks," She nodded.
They all dined together that night, and the longer Ross was there the more she was certain that Elbert's presence at the time of their visit had not been an accident. She couldn't help noticing the signs of a man under a lot of pressure.
"What brings you to Ironoaks, my lord?" She asked after the first course had been served and the obligatory small talk was out the way. "I thought your seat was the Gates of the Moon?"
Lady Waynwood looked up with interest at the question, with a rather pointed look at Elbert and a wave at one of the servants that had all of them filing out. She was careful, that was good. Littlefinger had spies everywhere.
The man gave a rueful smile.
"I know from experience that you are not one for games and vagueness, my lady," He said. "So let me tell you straight. None of the lords of the Vale were happy when Lady Lysa prevented us from going to your nephew's aid and insisted on remaining neutral. We wanted to aid our old allies, the Tullys and Starks, but the woman would not move an inch,"
Lady Anya snorted rather derisively at that.
"Foolish girl," She scoffed, never mind that Lysa was a woman in her thirties.
"The problem worsened when Petyr Baelish arrived," Elbert continued. "Lysa married him immediately and appointed him Lord Regent for her son without consulting anyone. Not a popular choice either, as after my uncle died it was expected that I was to be Regent to young Robert. I believe my uncle explicitly asked his wife to make it so, however since his death she has shunned me. As his wishes were never in writing, there is little we can do. But Baelish is a step too far. Myself and Lady Waynwood, along with several other lords, are on the verge of coming to an agreement to oust him from the Eyrie. We were planning to write to King Stannis, only to hear of his tragic death,"
"Fortunate that we arrived when we did, then," Davos said with a hint of wryness. Ross agreed with the sentiment; this was interesting, but they obviously wanted something from her.
"Let's not waste time skirting around the fact - you want to be Regent," She said. "Fine. If you swear allegiance to Queen Shireen, I will write to Lord Loreon Storm and make it so. Then you can do what you like with Baelish. King's Landing cares little for him. Is that correct, Ser Davos?"
The man looked momentarily startled at being consulted on such matters by a member of a great house that wasn't Stannis, but quickly pulled himself together. After all, he was here as the official representative of the Baratheons; Ross was only really there to add prestige.
"Yes, my lady," He said swiftly. "Lord Loreon wishes to see the Vale in strong and stable hands for the coming winter. If Petyr Baelish could provide that, he would have no issue seeing him in power, but his presence here has clearly caused unrest. And if what you say about Lady Lysa overriding the late Lord Arryn's wishes, the position is rightfully yours anyway,"
"Well said," Lady Anya nodded approvingly, having taken a while to warm up to the one they called the Onion Knight. "So we are all in agreement that Baelish must go. And Lysa's influence on the young Lord Arryn must be diminished, too. The boy is a lord, for Seven's sake, not an infant to be coddled,"
"We can make arrangements for Lysa," Ross said, knowing Loreon would already have options for another marriage in mind. "Perhaps the boy could be fostered? Here perhaps, or with the Royce's. That would toughen him up, certainly, unless you wished to keep him with you, my lord?" She raised an eyebrow at Elbert.
"Malicious rumours are spread easily," The man shook his head. "Never mind that the boy has been sickly his whole life, people will start to say that I'm poisoning him to gain the Eyrie for myself. Gods forbid he dies under my care,"
It was a fair point.
In the end they agreed that Ross, Davos, Sansa and their guards would head up to the Eyrie alone, acting as though they had simply stayed the night in Ironoaks with no talks of conspiracy. They couldn't pretend they had not visited, and it would be foolish to try.
Meanwhile, Elbert would gather the Vale lords that would support him and prepare to go up separately, which would likely take a few weeks. Baelish would likely suspect something, but wouldn't know exactly what. And while she waited, Ross could gain a better idea about what the situation was up in the Eyrie.
Whilst Dacey slipped away with the handsome young Waynwood, a lascivious smile on her faces, Ross went to bed alone that night after bidding goodnight to Sansa and Davos. She couldn't sleep after an hour of trying, so slipped out of bed in her nightgown, bare feet cold on the stone floor, and padded over to the window.
The view really was beautiful, moonlight glinting off the smooth, black surface of the lake with the hulking shapes of the mountains looming out of the darkness beyond it. It was a completely clear night, one of the first ones they'd had since landing in Gulltown, and the stars could be seen glinting brightly. The same stars as back home.
She thought of Winterfell, now a burnt-out shell, and could've wept.
She didn't, of course. It took more than that for her to cry. But if she'd let herself, it would've been very easy for the tears to fall.
Ross had never climbed up to the Eyrie before, and had to admit that the enormous shape of the Giant's Lance looming above them was rather daunting. Having left the Gates of the Moon - currently held by Elbert Arryn, who saw them off - at dawn, the path to the first waycastle, Stone, was a narrow goat's track, steep but surrounded by forest; not an especially challenging journey, although it took half a day.
At Stone they met Mya, a girl of about twenty who was clearly a bastard of King Robert from his time here as a youth. She was good company and got along well with Dacey, although insisted their party of fifteen leave their horses here - the direwolf too, to Sansa's dismay - and continue on small but sturdy mules.
As they began to climb Ross could understand why. The next waycastle was Snow, only a single tower and wooden keep, but the path to it was even steeper and narrower than before. Horses would struggle greatly, but the surefooted mountain mules made it look easy. She now began to appreciate exactly how hard it would be for an invading army to take the Eyrie.
Though she had never been afraid of heights - something a great many falls off of huge horses as a child could attest to - the climb to the final waycastle, Sky, made even her stomach clench. The path was treacherous, completely exposed to the mountain winds, the steps cracked and uneven. As the mules carried them across, she saw Sansa's eyes firmly shut, Davos muttering prayers to the Seven under his breath and even Dacey gritting her teeth. The rest of her guards clearly weren't enjoying the journey either, as she heard plenty more curses and prayers from behind them.
Sky was little more than a crescent-shaped wall against the mountain, with a cavern carved into the rock containing stables where they left the mules. Ross was just wondering how they were to get up to the castle proper, six hundred feet above them, when she saw the handholds cut into the face of the mountain.
"You've got to be joking," Dacey saw them too and gaped at Mya, who grinned unapologetically, looking a lot like King Robert. Ross idly wondered if she knew who her late father was.
"Surely you don't mean for us to climb that," Davos was slightly more restrained but clearly not looking forward to the prospect at all.
"We send a basket up on a rope with supplies," The bastard girl shrugged. "Many people go up that way. Your mother did so, my lady," She nodded at Sansa. Gods sake. If Catelyn went up in the basket, that meant Ross would simply have to climb.
"If you want to go up with the sacks of turnips and beets, Sansa, I'll join you," Dacey grinned in self-deprecation. "I'd rather fight the Kingslayer in single combat than try and climb that," So would I.
Sansa was clearly relieved she wouldn't be the weak link and nodded hastily. Ross glanced at Davos.
"I'm not sure if my pride can take going up in a basket," He said with a grimace. "Surely you're bold enough to climb too, my lady," She couldn't help but laugh, with a touch of hysteria.
"After you then, ser,"
Sansa and Dacey reached the top first in the basket, of course, joined by two of the guards more afraid of heights. The rest of the guards chose to climb, particularly after Ross said she would, not wanting to be shown up by a woman.
The climb was rather harrowing but no one fell to their deaths - such an occurrence was rare, Mya helpfully stated - and they were received by the maester in what Mya informed them was the Crescent Chamber. The fire was roaring and several maids handed around refreshments, hot wine, bread and salt.
A flight of steep spiral stairs took them up to a long arcade decorated with tapestries, at the end of which was the Lord's Solar. Maester Coleman led them inside, where they were met by Petyr Baelish, who had no doubt taken the rooms for himself, and his now-wife Lady Lysa.
"Ser Davos, Lady Rosennis," Baelish's smile was welcoming enough when they entered the room, though his eyes told another story if you knew well enough to look. "And Lady Sansa, it's a pleasure as always," Those words were likely genuine - though Littlefinger was a good faker and they sounded no different - and were accompanied with a hint of something more sinister that made Ross frown. "All of you, welcome to the Eyrie,"
"My thanks, my lord," She replied neutrally. "And to you, Lady Lysa," She glanced at the red-haired woman stood beside him - or rather, clung to his arm - who smiled falsely. Ross had always disliked Lysa, and thus kept her distance, so the only thing the woman could accuse her of was being cold and distant.
"It will be so nice having guests in the Eyrie," She said rather simperingly. "It gets rather lonely up here at times. So sweet that you brought my dear niece," She turned to Sansa, who curtseyed flawlessly.
"A pleasure to meet you at last, my lady,"
"Call me Aunt Lysa, dear," She said. "You look so much like Cat," Despite the kind words, there was a definite edge to her tone.
Sansa's expression didn't crack at the rather strange way Lysa said that, but Ross shared a look with Davos.
After the obligatory greetings and an invitation to dine with them that night, Lysa had a maid show them all to their quarters. The guards were given a place in the barracks, whilst Davos, Sansa, Dacey and Ross all had their own chambers in one of the towers; the castle was not a large one but there were so few people there that most of the rooms were empty.
They could not fault the chambers they were assigned; large and spacious despite being in a tower, richly decorated and each with a breathtaking view across the Vale. The sun was just setting over the mountains - it had taken the entire day to climb up to the castle - and the sky was streaked with shades of orange, red and pink.
Ross used the last hour or so of light to explore the castle, with Dacey at her side. It was a beautiful place as Ned had always said, consisting of seven elegant towers built of white stone surrounding a carefully cultivated garden. One of the maids, Gretchel, had told her that the garden was meant as a godswood, only no weirwood would take root to the soil.
"It really is empty," Dacey observed.
She wasn't wrong. Aside from the maester and the three maids who had welcomed them, the only other inhabitants of the Eyrie Ross had seen were the two squires of Lord Robert - why that sickly boy needed one squire let alone two was beyond her - a jester, the gaoler and a rather irritating singer called Marillion who had pestered her enough that she'd had to snap at him. There were guards of course, but only a dozen or so, along with several more grizzled men-at-arms in service to Littlefinger, but even in such a small castle that was barely any people.
"There were more here in Lord Jon's day, before he became Hand," The elderly maid explained. "We had household knights, a master-at-arms, a steward. Lots more servants too. And of course young Lord Robert and Ned. Oh, I did weep to hear of both their deaths, so tragic too," She then remembered Ross' presence and lowered her eyes. "Beg pardons, milady. I didn't meant to speak out of turn,"
"No matter," Ross brushed over it, though her heart ached with a fresh wave of grief. She tried to imagine Ned as a boy running through these halls and laughing, perhaps followed by a boisterous young Robert with a wooden sword. A lump rose in her throat and she quickly moved on, sweeping further into the garden on the pretence of looking at a statue.
She could still hear Dacey and Gretchel behind her.
"Lady Rosennis does remind me a lot of Lord Ned, if you don't mind me saying," The older woman said, clearly trying to keep quiet, but in the Eyrie - where there was no noise but falcons cries, the wind whistling and the distant rush of the waterfall - her voice carried. "They've got the same manner of speaking, and the same look. Not handsome but not quite plain... Just something about her,"
That was an odd thing to say, though somehow not insulting. Was it meant as a compliment?
"A Stark through and through," Dacey chuckled slightly. "Even after being married to a Bolton over fifteen years,"
Dinner that night in the Lower Hall was a rather painful affair. Not that she'd expected anything less.
Lysa was all over Baelish in a way that everyone else managed to find perfectly sickening, and rather uncomfortable to sit through. She was also acting overly sweet towards Sansa, making veiled jabs and passive aggressive remarks about her mother the whole time. Littlefinger was on form too, doing his usual act from court, of making jests that few people laughed at and playing the slightly irritating but harmless fool.
The boy Robert, Lord of Mountain and Vale - or, as his mother liked to call him, Sweetrobin - threw a different tantrum every ten minutes, often throwing his food and making demands of the servants and his mother. Lysa readily soothed and indulged him in a way that Ross found even more disgusting than her practically fucking Littlefinger with her eyes.
On top of that, the singer she disliked from earlier, Marillion, had been invited to serenade them through their meal. Apparently he was a new favourite of Lysa's, though Baelish clearly held no love for him. Ross didn't like the way he was looking at Sansa, and shared a look with Dacey, mutually agreeing to keep an eye out. The singer apologised for his only passable skill on the lute.
"I was the best musician in the Seven Kingdoms," He proclaimed with a woe-is-me expression. "Until that wretched little Imp broke my fingers," Sure enough, they had clearly healed crooked and were no longer as nimble as they may once have been.
Ross bit back a smile as he recounted the story, mentally congratulating Tyrion, although wishing it had been the man's neck he had stamped on instead.
In between appeasing her vile child and aggressively petting her husband, Lysa found the time to insult Davos too, calling him the Onion Knight on more than one occasion - to which Littlefinger laughed - and many other minor slights that Ross wouldn't be able to stand much longer, even if they were not directed at her.
"I daresay you have never stayed anywhere so fine, Ser Davos," Lysa said with a little giggle, after enquiring whether their chambers were satisfactory. Ross felt like kicking her under the table.
"You are very generous, my lady," He said, even tempered as ever despite the fact that his rooms in the Red Keep as Master of Ships were just as fine and somewhat larger. "The Eyrie is a beautiful castle," The man was no doubt used to being belittled by highborns, and this was surely not the worst he had dealt with. Even so...
"When the war is over, you are most welcome to visit Winterfell, my lord," Ross said, making sure to use his proper title. He was as much a lord as Petyr Baelish, if not more so. "As Master of Ships, White Harbour may be a suitable location to house some of the Royal Fleet in the future, and Winterfell is but a few days up the White Knife river,"
"Thank you, Lady Rosennis," He smiled, understanding what she was getting at.
"Ah yes, the North," Lysa smiled in a way that was clearly trying to imitate Cersei at her most spiteful, and managed to come across as even more pathetic. "I've never been. I'm sure it would be fascinating to visit the land that produces women who fight with sword and shield just like the wildlings," She gave a little titter at Dacey, whose raised eyebrow and amused look at Ross showed exactly what she thought of court bitchiness.
"Most Northern ladies don't learn to fight, Lady Lysa," The younger woman said. "But it's a necessity where I'm from. Bear Island is only a short sail from the Frozen Shore, and wildling raiders often cross the sea to rape and pillage. With the men out hunting or fishing, it falls to the women to protect our homes. Hence I learned to use a sword, as did my four sisters,"
"How odd," Lysa laughed again, vacuous as ever. "Imagine living so far from civilisation. What about you, Lady Rosennis? Did you have to train in the yard with the boys?"
Oh for gods sake. She'd had enough.
"I wish I had," Ross said with a sharp smile. "For then it wouldn't have been Jaime Lannister to slay King Aerys,"
Dacey snorted into her soup, Davos was clearly fighting a smile and even Sansa's lips twitched. Lysa looked taken aback by that, as had been her intention. The conversation quickly moved on as dear Sweetrobin realised that the room's attention had not been on him for a while and began to throw another tantrum.
For the next couple of weeks, Ross spent her time with Davos and Littlefinger in the lord's solar. They went through everything that should have been reported to the king this past year, which hadn't been due to Lysa refusing to reply to any ravens. This included but was not limited to the state of the Vale's armies and finances, discussing why it remained neutral in the war, and its future with regard to trade, alliances and leadership.
Neither she nor Davos were the most qualified people to discuss such matters, but between them they managed to do so passably at least. The small council had sent them off with a journal of things to discuss, and they would go over that prior to the meetings, to make sure they were on the same page and wouldn't miss anything.
Ross had decided before even climbing the Eyrie that it would be foolish to lie to Baelish more than she had to, given that he had spies everywhere. For this reason she mentioned meeting Lady Waynwood at Ironoaks, whom she said seemed to have taken a dislike to him and tried to persuade her to name someone else regent. She phrased it as though the woman was being unreasonable; surely Littlefinger would make a fine regent, given his long and fruitful service as Master of Coin.
She also brought up meeting Elbert Arryn too; naturally he would be opposed to another man taking what he saw as his, but she heavily implied that so long as Littlefinger swore allegiance to Shireen and didn't let Lysa hesitate again to call up the armies when needed, the crown would support him over Jon Arryn's nephew. Loreon Storm had bigger issues to worry about than the Vale; so long as it didn't cause any trouble, he wasn't that concerned.
They also tried to drag out the talks as long as possible. Ross claimed to have been extremely ill on the ship from King's Landing, and after being further weakened by the journey from Gulltown she was only strong enough to meet for a couple of hours each day. To make it believable, she first claimed that this was all masters advice, and that she was going to push through and ignore it. Then during their second meeting, Davos made a show of asking if she was alright and she acted like she had come over very unwell again.
The idea of what Jaime would think if he could see her now, pretending to faint like a delicate southron flower, made her chuckle to herself later on when she was alone.
It worked, but the downside of this was that Ross had to spend a lot of time in her rooms, 'resting'. She was bored out of her mind, even with the few books that Dacey brought her from the library.
Perhaps it was punishment from the gods for her lie, but a week after arriving at the Eyrie Ross really did become ill. At first she thought it was food poisoning, as she had vomited immediately after breakfast, but when it happened three days in a row the symptoms became uncomfortably familiar and the truth began to wash over her like cold water.
How? She had been so careful, keeping stocked up on her supply of moon tea and drinking at least two cups of it after every time she and Jaime had lain together. Which hadn't even been that often, considering they were in the Red Keep where the walls had ears and both of them were required for various other duties.
Then she remembered the day she left for the Vale, or more importantly the night before. Leaving in a hurry, the cup of moon tea on her dresser. Had she drunk it? She couldn't recall, which was rather discomforting as that likely meant she had not.
Ross forced herself to put the matter out of her mind, to not curse her own stupidity, to not even contemplate the world of trouble that this could cause for her. At least not yet. Pregnancies were not always successful after all, especially in these earlier stages. She wasn't even entirely sure she was pregnant yet, having not sought out a maester's opinion for obvious reasons.
Besides, there was nothing she could do about it just yet, although it may be time for her to start planning a lengthy stay at Winterfell, away from her husband. Or get her hands on some subtle poison...
Dacey, who was her almost constant companion when she wasn't in meetings with Littlefinger, was the only one to notice something odd with the amount of times she had to use the privy in the mornings, but didn't mention it. Sansa may have noticed something, but wasn't around her often enough, having been spending a lot of time with Lysa and Sweetrobin. Ross felt for her, she truly did, as each time Sansa returned from seeing her aunt, the more she disliked the woman.
"She resents me because I look like Mother," The girl said when they were taking a walk round the gardens one afternoon, clearly rather unnerved by Lysa's strange ways. "She's all smiles one minute, but turns at the drop of a hat and says something awful," She hesitated. "Lord Baelish says I look a lot like Mother too. I don't like the way he looks at me, sometimes,"
That immediately put Ross on guard.
"If he's untoward in any way, do let me know," She said warningly. Sansa promised she would.
The High Hall of the Arryns was usually closed to everyone, even the guests. For this reason, Ross found it odd when she heard a commotion coming from the room as she walked past the back entrance one day on the way back to her chambers. There was music, no doubt Marillion. Had the singer decided to sneak in there alone?
Curious, she moved towards the ajar door, quickening her steps as she heard the sound of a woman screaming. She hesitated at the door, clearly hearing that it was Lysa and Littlefinger in the midst of an argument, but then she heard Sansa's name be brought up and flung open the door.
The scene she came across made her freeze for a split second, in sheer shock and horror, before she was sprinting across the room.
The moon door was open, wind howling through the hall, as Lysa stood before it, holding Sansa in front of her, half in and half out. Littlefinger stood there, the most visibly stressed she had ever seen him, clearly trying to talk her down. There was a pounding at the main entrance to the hall, no doubt guards hearing the commotion and trying to get in.
"NO!" Lysa was screaming, barely seeming to recognise Ross' presence. "You can't want her. She's a stupid empty-headed little girl. She doesn't love you the way I have always loved you,"
"Lysa, you've gone mad! What in hells name are you doing?" Ross had never been so suddenly furious. She wanted to wrest the woman away from the door and punch that stupid pink face of hers, but had to restrain herself; she didn't trust that she could do that and not let Sansa fall.
"Perhaps best not to insult the woman dangling your niece over a six-hundred foot drop," Littlefinger said with a strained smile.
Ross ignored him, continuing in a steely, furious tone.
"Lysa, if you kill her I will have a fifty thousand men at the base of the Eyrie to see you, your son and your precious Petyr dead,"
The woman barely even seemed to hear her.
Littlefinger turned to see Ross and grimaced, placing a finger to his lips and shot her a look that said 'let me handle it'. She riled and was about to argue, then realised that with her blunt manner and current seething fury, she was not the best for the rather delicate job. Unfortunately, that man was Petyr Baelish.
Tears ran down the woman's puffy red face as she continued to ramble on. Ross could only focus on her niece's terrified eyes, her heart in her mouth as she paced up and down, hating the fact that she had to put her trust in Littlefinger. Her stomach felt sick again, nausea rising in her throat, but she carefully swallowed the feeling down. Now really wasn't the time to vomit.
"I gave you my maiden's gift. I would have given you a son too, but they murdered him with moon tea. I never knew, I only drank what Father gave me..."
"That's past and done, Lysa. Lord Hoster's dead, and his old maester as well." Littlefinger moved closer. "Have you been at the wine again? You ought not to talk so much. We don't want Sansa to know more than she should, do we? Or Marillion and Lady Bolton?"
"Cat never gave you anything," Lysa ignored him. "It was me who got you your first post, who made Jon bring you to court so we could be close to one another. You promised me you would never forget that,"
"Nor have I. We're together, just as you always wanted, just as we always planned. Just let go of Sansa's hair..."
"I won't! I saw you kissing in the garden," What? Ross narrowed her eyes at Baelish's back. There would be a lot of talk to be had later. Or preferably, none at all; after she pushed Lysa out the moon door herself, her dear husband was following. "She's just like her mother. Catelyn kissed you in the godswood, but she never meant it. Why did you love her best?"
Ross had never seen anything that was both terrifying and extremely pathetic.
"I am here, love," He took another step. "All you need to do is take my hand, come on." He held it out to her. "There's no cause for all these tears,"
"Tears, tears, tears," She sobbed hysterically. "No need for tears... but that's not what you said in King's Landing. You told me to put the tears in Jon's wine, and I did,"
Gods. Oh gods. It was him, all along, his fault that Ned had gone south, his fault he had died and the war had started. She could tear him apart with her bare hands in that moment; Sansa being dangled over a mountain was perhaps the only situation she would hold back her anger.
Littlefinger didn't look at her but froze for a second, and she was suddenly aware that she was very much in danger for hearing that. She felt for the dagger ever-present in her skirts, as Lysa continued.
"For Robert, and for us! And I wrote Catelyn and told her the Lannisters had killed my lord husband, just as you said," Ross would happily claw that woman's face off there and then. Your own sister, you pitiful, traitorous bitch. "That was so clever... you were always clever. Why did you kiss her? Why? We're together now after so long, why would you want to kiss herrrrrr?"
"Lysa," Petyr sighed. "After all the storms we've suffered, you should trust me better. I swear, I shall never leave your side again, for as long as we both shall live,"
"Truly?" She asked, weeping. "Oh, truly?"
"Truly. Now come give me a kiss,"
Lysa threw herself into Littlefinger's arms, sobbing. As they hugged, Sansa crawled from the Moon Door on hands and knees and Ross immediately moved towards her, sinking to her knees to embrace the shaking girl, who clung to her like a lifeline. Her own heart was pounding, and she could feel Sansa's too. Her right shoe was missing. It must have fallen. Ned's daughter could have just died right in front of her.
"My sweet silly jealous wife," Littlefinger kissed Lysa lightly, chuckling. "I've only loved one woman, I promise you,"
The woman smiled tremulously.
"Only one? Oh, Petyr, do you swear it? Only one?"
"Only Cat,"
He gave her a short, sharp shove. Lysa stumbled backward, her feet slipping, and then she was gone. She never even screamed.
Ross scrambled to her feet at once but stood stock still, too shocked to make a sound. For a long moment there was no sound but the wind.
"You... you..." Marillion gasped. She had forgotten he was even here. Sansa slowly stood, though stuck very close to Ross. The guards were shouting outside the door, pounding with the butts of their heavy spears.
"You're not hurt?" Littlefinger turned to Sansa, who shook her head. He looked at Ross, unsmiling, and for a split second she knew he was considering it. Considering telling the guards that she had done it, blaming her for Lysa's death. It would be easier for him, of course, considering what she now knew.
"Loreon Storm will know something's wrong," She said lowly. "At the very least I wouldn't murder Lysa for no good reason. He doesn't trust you yet. He trusts me,"
He considered it.
"I know about your children, Renan and Morganna. I know about the Kingslayer. And I know about the baby currently growing in your belly," He smiled apologetically, with a significant glance down at her stomach which made it churn even more. Sansa gave a small gasp, clearly catching on. Ross missed the days the girl was vacant and stupid. "I normally blackmail with much more finesse than this, but given the circumstances..."
Son of a - She still felt like ripping him in half, even more so now. If anyone deserved a one-way trip down into the dungeons of the Dreadfort it was Petyr Baelish. But if this would stop him causing her a whole lot of trouble, so be it. She had dirt on him too. Just as bad, if not worse.
"Fine," She nodded swiftly. His smile grew.
"Let my guards in," He said to Sansa. "Quick now, there's no time to lose. This singer's killed my lady wife,"
The Lords Declarant ascending the Giant's Lance three weeks after Ross arrived at the Eyrie, their displeasure only having mounted now Lady Lysa was dead and Littlefinger was sole regent and guardian of Lord Robert. Marillion had been blamed for the death of Lysa and placed in the Sky Cells; Ross didn't even want to know what Baelish had said to him to make him stay quiet about his innocence.
Elbert Arryn had really managed to pull together a great number of powerful people; Yohn Royce, Anya Waynwood, Gilwood Hunter, Horton Redfort, Benedar Belmore, Symond Templeton, along with Ser Lyn Corbray. All of them had brought a thousand men, gathered at the Gates of the Moon.
"How is your dear Morganna these days," Baelish asked Ross with a smile as they waited in the lord's solar for the visitors to be brought up. "It's been so long since I saw her in King's Landing. You must be proud of her - her beauty will surely rival the queen's, in time,"
In other words; move against me in this and I'll tell them everything. It wasn't exactly a subtle reminder, but he seemed to have given up being subtle with her.
"If you tell them everything then so will I," She replied coldly, not playing along with his games or bothering to mask the threat. "Trust that I don't want my daughter shamed and likely killed in order to reveal the murderer of a man I didn't particularly care about," He laughed lightly at that, though didn't speak to her again.
It was incredibly frustrating, having knowledge that could destroy him but being unable to use it. They were at as much of a stalemate as Lord Tywin and Robb were in the west. So for now she let him think he had won. But if he thought she was going to stand by and do nothing whilst one of the most untrustworthy people in the Seven Kingdoms knew her darkest secret, he was sorely mistaken.
That day she had made a point of being stuck to him like a limpet, which he no doubt thought was an attempt to make sure he couldn't discredit her in secret to one of the lords. In fact, it was simply so she didn't arouse his suspicion by appearing unconcerned.
Littlefinger had grown rather comfortable in the knowledge that Starks were exactly what they appeared, after dealing with Ned and Brandon. Whilst he knew Ross strongly disliked him, he believed she was willing enough to go along with their mutually beneficial agreement of not spilling each other's secrets.
He did not know that she had come to the Eyrie with the intention of seeing him ousted from power, and did not know that she had a plan of her own.
A week earlier, Ross had had one of her guards surreptitiously pass Mya Stone a note under the guise of flirting with the young woman, along with the rather large sum of three gold dragons for her silence. She was confident that Mya couldn't read, and just wanted her to secretly give the note to Elbert Arryn or Yohn Royce as the Lords Declarant made their way up the mountain, where Littlefinger's spies would struggle to reach.
The message stated the truth, or most of it at least, giving the lords an ironclad reason to remove Petyr Baelish from power. Lysa had thrown a jealous fit after seeing Littlefinger forcibly kiss Sansa, and tried to throw her out the Moon Door; Littlefinger had stopped her doing so, but hadn't been able to keep his wife from revealing the truth about what happened to Jon Arryn. He had then murdered Lysa, before threatening to spread false rumours about Ross' children's parentage and even implying that he would hurt Sansa if she didn't keep quiet.
The only trouble now was the moment he was confronted about his crimes, Baelish would surely know it was her who had told them and would not hesitate in spilling her own secrets. She hoped that remark in the letter about false rumours would be enough to convince the lords he was talking rubbish, but somehow doubted it.
The obvious solution would be to kill him. But she had eaten food from his table and couldn't do so without breaking guest right, same for all of her guards. She would have to settle for pushing for Elbert to execute him as soon as possible, whilst hoping none of lords cared enough to discuss what he said about her.
The group of lords, and Lady Anya, entered the solar having refused the bread and salt offered to them. All faces were stony, and though Littlefinger acted unconcerned, playing up his usual friendly manner, he could clearly tell that they would not be swayed as easily as he expected.
Everyone was just taking their seats when Ross felt a familiar churning in her stomach. Seven hells, of all the moments. Given it was early evening, she hadn't expected to feel any sickness, and of course it chose now to reappear. She tried carefully swallowing, taking breaths, but then it became too much to bear.
"Excuse me one moment, my lords," She quickly stepped away from the table, not elaborating on her departure as she hurried from the room to the nearest privy, hoping against hope no one did anything stupid while she was gone. Her not being in the room could be disastrous on the blackmail front, but she figured it would be worse to vomit on the table in front of them all.
It took longer than usual to empty her stomach, more continuing to come up, and Ross began to wonder if Littlefinger had slipped her something in her food to get her out of the room. A little far-fetched maybe, but she wouldn't put it past him. Either way, it was a great inconvenience and she was in a hurry to return as soon as possible.
Despite this it was half an hour before she made it back to the solar, and in that time the meeting seemed to have devolved into chaos.
Littlefinger was on his feet, as was Yohn Royce who was clearly furious. Gods, no doubt they'd already confronted him about killing Jon Arryn.
"Here she is," Royce said, jabbing a finger her way. "I had it from Lady Bolton herself that you're guilty, never mind all that shit that's been coming out of your mouth for the past half hour. You killed Lady Lysa, not to mention manipulated her into murdering Lord Arryn! Don't even try and deny it,"
"You had it from Lady Bolton?" Baelish's mocking smile was still in place even though he realised he was backed into a corner. It suddenly struck Ross what a dangerous place that was for him to be. "I hate to do this, I really do," He shook his head at them. "You all have dark little secrets of your own. Lord Redfort, for instance. Aren't you ashamed, forcing your son to marry the respectable Lady Royce whilst you know he truly desires dear Mya Stone and continues with her on the side?"
Lord Royce shot a glare at Redfort, who flushed. But Littlefinger wasn't done.
"Lord Gilwood too - have you spoken to your beloved brother recently? After all, you're well aware that he plotted to kill your father, and you turned a blind eye. Never mind that he's now plotting to kill you too,"
Everyone looked at the man in question accusingly, as he gaped like a fish, stuttering his denial rather unconvincingly but looking like he wanted to ask Baelish more about his brother's plans.
"Lady Waynwood, did you reveal to the rest of the Lords Declarant that you were keeping your options open? That you were entertaining the idea of supporting my claim to the Vale and betrothing your ward Harry the Heir to a girl of my choosing, in exchange for me paying off some of your money debts?"
"That was weeks ago," Lady Anya paled, glancing at the others uncertainly. "I scarcely even considered it,"
"Sers Corbray and Templeton, Lord Belmore" Petyr smiled sickeningly. "And of course dear Elbert, the darling of the Vale. I'll leave yours for later, in case more incentive is needed. That goes for all of you. Those secrets are not the worst I could reveal," His beady eyes flickered round the room, making eye contact with each of them.
"Ignore him," Ross cut across the silence cast over the room. "He wants us to falter in the face of common blackmail. I'll be willing to forget every single lie I've heard in this room, once Baelish is removed," She raised an eyebrow, glancing round the room, as the other lords nodded rather abashedly.
"Lady Bolton," He chuckled. "Would they follow you if they knew the truth about what you had done? You truly are the worst of them. Where do I even begin? The long years as the Kingslayer's whore? Bearing not one of his bastard children, nor even two, but now three? Come on, Ross - that is what he calls you, isn't it? - I thought you were better than that, being such an honest and honourable Stark,"
"Like I said," She spoke through gritted teeth, daring any of the lords present to say a word. "We can forget every poisonous word out of his mouth and lock him in the Sky Cells. His words only have power if we believe them,"
"A fine idea, Lady Bolton," Elbert stepped in with a smile. "I'm sure the Arryn household guards would only be too happy to assist, along with your own?" She nodded, but Baelish wasn't finished.
"You'll have to give me a trial, you know,"
"And have you spill even more secrets, or blackmail your way to freedom?" Elbert snorted derisively. "I believe the word of..." He glanced around. "Eleven lords, ladies and knights is enough,"
"Then I'll demand a trial by combat," He laughed, shaking his head. "The best fighter can be bought, for the right price,"
"You just claimed I've spent years as the Kingslayer's whore," Ross said flatly. "Jaime Lannister has currently been imprisoned at Riverrun for months - if what you claim is true, I'm sure he'd jump at the chance to travel to the Vale and fight whichever sellsword you can come up with,"
Lord Royce laughed at that.
"I say we forget a trial, forget the Sky Cells and just throw him right out the Moon Door,"
There was a murmur of agreement around the room.
"A Stark letting a man die without trial?" Littlefinger was still smiling. "You are a surprise, my lady. Did all that time spent underneath the Mad King warp your mind that much?"
He had scarcely finished the sentence before Ross had drawn the dagger from her skirts and had it pointed under his chin. She was the same height as he was, perhaps an inch taller, and everyone was clearly surprised at how fast she'd moved. The secret training sessions had clearly paid off.
"If it wasn't for guest right, I'd cut your throat from ear to ear myself and watch you bleed out on the floor," She hissed, much to the further shock of everyone else in the room but Dacey. "All people will remember you as is the scheming little social climber who made it into the Eyrie by whoring himself out to Lady Lysa, then murdered her and played at ruling for a few weeks,"
Baelish grew an ugly look in his eye then, dropping all of his usual farce.
"You know," He said. "You remind more of your brother Brandon than dear Ned. I lost badly to that man, but will not lose to his ugly bitch of a sister,"
She saw the silver flash of his hidden dagger just in time, as Dacey cried out in warning, and managed to turn so it caught her forearm instead. He went for my stomach, she realised. She saw him smile as pain lanced up her left arm and blood began to drip down her sleeve. That was her mind made up.
He was still smiling when her dagger sunk deep between his ribs.
Baelish clearly hadn't been expecting for her to recover from her wound fast enough to get him too, as his eyes bulged in surprise. At first no one noticed. Then everyone noticed at once, as he gave a rather choked gasp and stopped talking, smile faltering and his knife falling to the floor with a clatter. There were several exclamations of shock from the lords but Ross barely heard them.
Ross herself looked Baelish in the eye, pushing the blade deeper. He still managed to force that irritatingly mocking smile on his face, even as he sank to his knees, wincing at the pain as his breath came in dying, uneven pants. She moved with him, leaving the knife in, blood running down the hand that refused to let go.
He tried to speak but she twisted the blade, and his eyes rolled back into his head. She let go of the knife, letting him fall backwards, dead
There were more gasps from the room - honestly, most of the men were seasoned soldiers, they were only so shocked because it was a lady doing the killing - but she just stared down at the dead body of Petyr Baelish, her hands and dress covered in his blood. Sansa was stood by the wall, eyes wide but clearly doing her best to control her face. Good girl.
"My lady," A shocked Lord Redfort stepped forward. "That was - was that really - ?" Necessary? Proper? Her place to do?
"He tried to kill me first," Ross stood, and everyone listened mutely. She must've been a right sight in her grey dress, dripping blood and holding a knife next to a bloody corpse. "That makes all guest right void. Besides, now he's gone he can't spread any more lies. Object if you want to, but what's done is done. Unless anyone's going to miss him?" She raised an eyebrow, suddenly weary.
Lady Waynwood smirked, Yohn Royce chuckled rather incredulously and Elbert Arryn openly laughed.
"You clearly have the Wolfblood like your brother Brandon, my lady," He said. "I for one am certainly grateful Baelish gave us a convenient way to get rid of him without a trial, although would rather he hadn't wounded you in the process,"
"He was aiming to kill," Ross said darkly. "It was probably just out of spite, seeing as he knew he was cornered. I suppose that makes you Lord Protector of the Vale?"
All the lords voiced their agreement.
Killing Littlefinger was all well and good, and it was nice that the situation in the Vale was neatly wrapped up with Elbert Arryn as Regent and young Robert fostering with Yohn Royce, but Ross would've cared a lot more had her entire being not been gripped with a pressing fear and dread for her child.
She knew that her husband Roose Bolton held Harrenhal. She knew that all the lords of Westeros would be descending on that castle. She knew that at some point her daughter Morganna would have to see her supposed father again. She had not anticipated the fact that Jaime and half his family would be there too, as she had found out from the letter from King's Landing.
It was foolish, but Ross had clung onto the hope that Roose Bolton would never see a Lannister in the flesh, particularly not Jaime. That was the only situation where she could perhaps have got away with her youngest daughter looking almost exactly like him. She had already run through a list of potential houses to foster Morganna with, betroth her to, just so he wouldn't spend more time near her, but that was a hopeless solution from a panicking woman.
Bolton wasn't a stupid or unobservant man, far from it. He was also cold, ruthless and terribly cruel. She had tried to kill him once before when he had threatened separating her from her child, and would not hesitate to actually do the deed properly if he posed any threat to another. That was looking increasingly like the only option left to her.
Domeric wouldn't care once his father was dead and he was lord. Even if he noticed something off, he wasn't about to embarrass his house by naming his supposed half-sister a bastard and his stepmother a harlot; he loved Morganna like the sister he thought she was, and had some affection for Ross too.
Roose wouldn't publicly shame the Bolton name either, but he would arrange for a tragically fatal accident to befall both of them, or they would mysteriously disappear and never make it out of the bowels of the Dreadfort alive.
It was for this reason that she left Davos and Sansa behind in the Vale - Davos was to leave the day after to be in King's Landing with Shireen, and she just wanted Sansa to be safe - and made haste to Harrenhal, hoping to get there before Loreon led her daughter into the arms of the man who would happily see her flayed if he knew the truth.
Another quick update! What did you think? I had plans to drag out the whole Ross in the Vale story a little longer and into multiple chapters, but struggled to get the pacing right so had to cut it down a little. I also found that Littlefinger is a very hard character to write, particularly as I have him backed into a corner here that he never was in the books.
The section of text where Lysa dies has dialogue lifted directly from A Storm of Swords, so all credit to GRRM for that. I didn't want to just do a rehash of the whole scene (which is brilliant as it is), so cut as much as I could and have made it clear down here that I did not write that part. If there are any copyright issues with this, let me know and I can alter or remove it.
Next chapter - Harrenhal.
Thanks for reading/commenting!
