The Vale.
The Eyrie.
Perched atop the towering Mountains of the Moon, the great fortress was always bitterly cold once winter arrived.
After the red comet vanished, the Citadel had already sent ravens across Westeros announcing that winter had come.
Now, Lady Catelyn stood upon the stone steps leading toward the Giant's Lance, feeling that the wind here was even harsher than it had ever been at Winterfell.
She pulled her velvet cloak tighter around herself and looked down into the valley below, where thick clouds drifted through the mountains.
It had been over half a month since she had arrived at the Eyrie.
Just as she had told Robb at the crossing camp, she still had not managed to persuade her sister to support her son.
Especially after Petyr Baelish had arrived.
The man she had once considered her dearest friend in King's Landing had come bearing orders from the Iron Throne and had become her greatest obstacle.
Yet Catelyn did not resent Littlefinger.
"He has his own difficulties. Cersei must have forced him into this.
But I can persuade him to support Robb. With Petyr's help, Lysa will surely stand with Robb."
Looking out over the sea of clouds, she allowed herself that hopeful thought.
She remained there a little longer until another icy gust made her shiver. Only then did she turn and head back toward her chambers.
As she rounded a corner, however, hushed voices drifted toward her on the wind.
"Have you heard?"
"You mean about that..."
"That's right. Do you think it's true?"
"Hard to say. I heard that before Lady Arryn married the Lord of the Vale, she and that man from the Fingers... well... you know."
"Quiet! Do you want to be thrown through the Moon Door?"
"But they say... Lady Arryn and that man from the Fingers poisoned Lord Arryn..."
Catelyn's expression turned icy.
Lately, rumors had spread throughout the Eyrie claiming that her own sister and the man she had once trusted like family had murdered Lord Jon Arryn.
The accusation was absurd.
"Who dares stain the honor of House Tully? I'll have every one of them hanged!"
She quickened her pace and rounded the corner, hoping to catch the servants whispering among themselves.
But the moment they heard approaching footsteps, they fled through the castle's twisting passages and disappeared without a trace.
Unable to catch them, Catelyn stamped her foot in frustration.
"I'll speak with Lysa. She must root out every one of those gossiping rats.
The honor of House Tully cannot be tarnished."
After calming herself, she continued toward her room.
She had barely taken a few more steps when an Eyrie servant came hurrying toward her.
"My lady, Lady Lysa requests your presence in the great hall. There are visitors from the North asking to see you."
"The North?"
Catelyn's heart skipped a beat. A terrible feeling settled over her.
"Do you know what it's about?"
The servant shook his head.
"I do not."
Her anxiety only deepened. Without another word, she hurried toward the great hall.
When she arrived, Lysa was already seated in the lord's chair.
A trace of concealed satisfaction flickered in her eyes as she looked at her sister.
Littlefinger stood alongside the Vale lords.
The moment he saw Catelyn enter, he offered her a sorrowful shake of the head, perfectly rehearsed.
Catelyn's heart sank.
It fell even further when she noticed the three travel-worn Glover soldiers standing in the center of the hall.
"Why are Glover's men here?"
A dreadful suspicion gripped her.
Sure enough, the leader, John, stepped forward the instant he saw her and dropped to one knee.
His weathered face was filled with barely restrained grief.
"My lady... I..."
Catelyn interrupted him, her voice trembling.
"W-what happened?"
John looked up, tears filling his eyes. "It's His Grace... he..."
"What happened to Robb?!"
"King Robb was assassinated by Stannis Baratheon... through foul shadow magic.
And Rickon... Rickon Stark was struck down by an arrow amid the chaos of battle."
The words hit her like a bolt from the deepest hell. The world spun around her.
Her ears rang.
Everything before her eyes blurred.
"No..."
A broken cry escaped her lips. Her knees gave way as she collapsed backward.
Fortunately, John caught her before she struck the floor.
Silence filled the hall.
Watching her sister's overwhelming grief, Lysa felt no sympathy.
Instead, something disturbingly close to satisfaction flashed across her face.
'So...Your husband and your sons are almost all dead. Can you still compare yourself to me now?'
'Hmph. Petyr would never choose someone like you.'
She instinctively glanced toward Littlefinger.
But he hadn't noticed her gaze. His face displayed the perfect blend of shock and sorrow, while his mind raced.
'Robb is dead.'
'The northern army is finished. The lions have already won.'
'Aside from the Stark girls, only one cripple remains. If I can control Catelyn, then I'll have a doorway into the North.'
Chaos is a ladder.
Littlefinger gazed at Catelyn with practiced sympathy while already calculating how to use her to gain influence over the North.
Lysa caught that look.
'Damn you, Cat.'
'You're trying to steal Petyr from me again?'
She glared hatefully at the unconscious Catelyn before speaking coldly. "What are you all standing around for?"
"Take Lady Catelyn back to her chambers."
The maids hurried forward, but John stepped in front of them.
Together with the other two Glover soldiers, he carefully supported Catelyn and carried her from the hall.
Following the servants' directions, they brought her back to her room.
Littlefinger took a few steps after them, intending to check on Catelyn while casually questioning the northern messengers.
Before he could go far, however, the jealous Lysa stopped him.
With no choice, he remained behind, gently soothing her.
Meanwhile, after bringing Catelyn back to her chamber, John and the other two soldiers did not immediately leave.
The three exchanged a silent glance before taking up positions outside the bedroom door.
About half an hour later, Catelyn slowly regained consciousness.
The moment she opened her eyes, the terrible news returned to her.
"No! Robb... my son!"
Tears poured down her face.
Hearing her anguished cry, John glanced cautiously in both directions before speaking quietly to the other two soldiers.
"Stay alert. I'm going in."
They nodded.
John pushed open the door without knocking and closed it quietly behind him.
"My lady..."
"Get out!" Still consumed by despair, Catelyn did not even lift her head as she shouted.
John remained where he stood.
"My lady."
He called to her once more, his tone solemn.
Then he carefully reached into his coat and withdrew a sealed letter bearing the Glover sigil.
Walking forward, he held it out to her.
"Lord Glover instructed me to place this letter into your hands personally."
At last, Catelyn looked up.
Her empty gaze settled upon the sealed letter. Slowly, her expression began to change.
Though grief over Robb and Rickon's deaths had left her thoughts in turmoil, her judgment had not entirely deserted her.
'With Galon's intelligence, he would never go to such lengths without reason.'
'Could there be more behind Robb's death?'
She snatched the letter eagerly, broke Glover's wax seal, and unfolded it.
The contents made her eyes widen in shock.
An instant later—
A growl filled with hatred echoed through the chamber.
'Petyr...'
'So it really was you!'
__________
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