Petyr Baelish had not been lax in making his plans. Now he had been named the Lord of Harrenhal, he was in prime position to make his move on the Eyrie. He had no real wish to rule Harrenhal, yet the title was crucial to achieving his next aim. Thwarted once before in claiming a daughter of Lord Hoster Tully of Riverrun due to his lower birth, the man known as Littlefinger was about to take no chances now. All the pieces were now set in place and ready to be played. As he approached the Vale at the head of his armed guard, Baelish anticipated his reception. The recently widowed Lysa Arryn was now perched safely in her lofty nest along with her boy child, little Robin. The Eyrie was all but impregnable, its very position a warning against an assault, few armies would contemplate a siege of that rocky fortress. The only sure way to gain entry was by the permission of its lord. Permission that Littlefinger had, by virtue of the Lord of the Vale's lady mother. Lysa Arryn was expecting the new Lord of Harrenhal as an honoured guest, a suitor, and her future husband. The path had been set, and Littlefinger was master of all. Baelish called a halt to his armed column. They had arrived at the gateway to the Vale. The Eyrie soared high above them, scraping its crags against the sky. The game is begun, thought Littlefinger. Onwards to victory.