Harrold I

"My lady, please, all we ask…." Lord Royce pleaded, standing before the gnarled wood throne of the Eyrie, where Lady Lysa Arryn, the Lady of the Vale, sat holding court. The old lord of Runestone had been coming before the woman every day for the past few weeks, ever since the Reach and Stormlands had declared for the Starks, asking for her to declare for her sister's son as well.

Lord Royce had been close to convincing her to do so, then Petyr Baelish had arrived and Lady Lysa had returned to her former stance of remaining neutral, much to the dismay of Royce and his allies in the Vale who wished to join the war that was now known as the 'War of Three Kings', those being Robb Stark, Joffrey Baratheon, and Balon Greyjoy.

"My answer is no, my lord." Lady Lysa replied sternly, rocking her son gently in her embrace.

Harrold frowned. He still had trouble believing that he was related to Lord Robert or 'Sweet Robin' as his mother called him. The boy was small and painfully thin, with thin, spindly limbs. Harrold himself was more than a decade older than the boy, but even when he was his age, he was a ball of energy that made the septa who watched after him want to pull her hair out. Robert looked like he was constantly ready for a nap.

The differing looks were also quite strange. Robert had brown hair, with large dark eyes, the opposite of Harrold's sandy-blonde hair and clear blue eyes. Perhaps it was the Tully in him, but even then, they were known to have auburn hair and blue eyes.

It was most curious.

"Lord Royce, my betrothed and I appreciate your honorable intention," Baelish said sweetly, placing a hand on Lysa's shoulder. "But as a lord of the Vale, you should know that your first priority is the safety and protection of Lord Robert."

Lord Royce frowned. "Lord Robert would be perfectly safe here in the Eyrie," he argued.

Baelish arched an eyebrow. "Would he?" he challenged. "The Lannisters once again have a fleet. What's to stop them from landing troops here in the Vale and attacking our lord while the men who are supposed to defend him are away in the Riverlands?"

All eyes turned to Lord Royce, who was clenching his massive hand at his side. Harrold had quickly learned that Baelish had a way with words that could turn a room against any man. He had seen it done many times against criminals who were pleading their case to the Lady of the Vale.

"The Lannisters have no men." Lord Redfort said, taking up the challenge. "The Westerlands have been ravished by the northmen and every other Lannister host has been destroyed. All Lord Tywin has is his own host against the might of four kingdoms."

Baelish wagged his finger, stepping down from behind the throne and walking down the steps towards the two men, talking all the while. "That is where you are wrong, my friends," he said with mock sadness. "You see, Lord Lannister has not been idle. The Martells have joined their side, as has House Bolton and House Frey."

"Turn cloaks." Lord Hunter growled.

Baelish tutted. "This is war, my lords, and alliance shift like the wind," he explained. "The Lannisters are now poised to win this war. Robb Stark marches on Tywin Lannister without the council of his best strategist, his home had been taken by Boltons and Ironborn. Even Winterfell has been burned to the ground."

Baelish stopped in front of Lord Royce, the older lord towering over the slightly built lord from the Fingers. Yet Baelish's slight smirk never left his face. "Now, my lord." he continued in a quieter tone. "Does that sound like a king we should ally ourselves to? One that has his men turn on him, his home taken and torched, and make simple mistakes that not even a child would make?"

Lady Anya Waynewood, the last of Lord Royce's allies, stepped forward now. "He is still a Stark, and that makes him better than Balon or Joffrey," she argued firmly. "We all know how mad Balon Greyjoy is, and the boy in King's Landing kills babes."

Baelish shook his head, turning his gaze on the Lady of Ironoaks. "Not his order, my lady," he said. "That was done by the former commander of the goldcloaks, Ser Janos Slynt, in an effort to gain favor with King Joffrey. The man has been sent to the Wall for his crimes."

Royce crossed his arms. "You expect us to believe that the commander of the city watch had the authority to send goldcloaks into the Vale?" he asked.

Baelish smiled thinly. "It seems he did," he answered simply.

Royce shook his head disgustedly, turning to face Lady Lysa, who had turned her attention to her son, allowing him to nurse in front of everyone.

Harrold cringed. His cousin should have stopped nursing years ago. Why his mother, and others for that matter, allowed it to happen made little sense to the young warrior. There was a theory floating around the Eyrie that Robert's nursing was what was causing his weakness and shaking fits. Harrold was no maester, but the rumor worriedly made sense.

"My lady." Royce rumbled. "At least allow me to take some cavalry," he asked. "Lord Eddard was a friend to each and every one of us. He grew up in this very hall! His death must be avenged!"

Lady Lysa went red in the face, setting her son aside and fixing her dress as she stood slowly, glaring at the large lord of Runestone. "No one will leave the Vale." she hissed. "That is my order. Any who break it shall be thrown through the moon door."

All eyes were immediately drawn to the giant circular door in the middle of the room that, when opened, gave a clear view of the mountainside hundreds of feet below. The ancient lords of the Vale, after the Andal invasion, hadn't seemed to be fans of executions, unlike their northern peers. The moon door was their more….sophisticated answer.

Lord Royce glanced behind him. Redfort, Hunter, and Lady Waynewood were all retreating back, leaving the older lord alone to face the wrath of the Lady of the Vale. They all shared the belief that the Vale should join the war in favor of the Starks, but they were still faithful nobles of the Vale, loyal to House Arryn. In this case, Lady Lysa.

None wanted to incur her rage.

"I'm afraid that I can not accept that, my lady," Harrold said suddenly, walking forward to stand beside his longtime friend and mentor. "Years ago, the Vale rose up against a king who unjustly killed honorable men. We must do so again."

"You compare King Joffrey to the Man King?" Baelish said, almost sounding amused as if there was a secret joke there.

Harrold's face hardened. "I will never kneel to a king who allows men to kill babes or kill a lord of the realm without trial," he answered.

Lysa looked ready to explode. "You dare…." she hissed.

"Yes, I dare." Harrold snapped, cutting her off. "House Stark is a friend of the Vale. Where is the honor in turning our backs when our friends call for our aid? When our family calls for aid?"

That last statement had stung more than the others for Lady Lysa, and everyone in the room knew it. It was no secret that both Robb Stark and his mother, Lysa's sister, had sent letters asking for aid, all of which the Lady of the Vale had denied.

"Guards!" Lysa screamed violently, pointing a bony finger at the blonde youth. "Arrest him!"

Royce drew his sword, as did Harrold. "You will do no such thing, my lady." he rumbled dangerously.

Ser Lyn Corbray strode forward as steel-clad guards marched forward, hands on swords as they regarded the two men. The heir to Heart's Home sneered at the Lord of Runestone, who regarded the other man like one would when they find shit on the bottom of their boots.

"Let's put those swords down gentlemen," Lyn ordered, half-drawing his own blade, the famed valyrian steel sword Lady Forlorn.

More sounds of swords being drawn filled the air as others came to Royce's side. Lord Redfort and his sons, Lord Hunter and his brothers Eustace and Harlan, Ser Morton, Lady Anya's son, and his brothers. Soon, two men had become almost a dozen.

"I don't think we will." Lord Royce answered finally. "My lady, we march to King Robb's aid, without or without your blessing."

Lady Lysa seemed to have taken leave of her senses as she screamed and ranted for the group of men in front of her to be killed. Weirdly, Baelish, and the swordsman who had been his shadow, seemed to have disappeared.

"Kill them!" Lysa shouted madly. "Kill them ALL!"

Robert covered his ears, tears springing in his eyes as he watched his mother pace in front of the throne.

"Make it stop! Make it stop!" he wailed as the maester came to his side, trying to comfort the boy.

"Blood does not have to be drawn here, my lady!" Royce shouted over the noise in the room. "Let there be peace."

But Lady Lysa was beyond reason. "No! You will not disobey me! I am the Lady of the Vale!"

Ser Lyn seemed to be finished with talking as well. He launched himself at Lord Royce, his sword sweeping down in a murderous arc, but the blade never landed as the man wielding it was thrown aside. Ser Lucas, Lyn's youngest brother, had leapt from the safety of the crowd into the middle of the two groups, tackling his brother, the two rolling on the ground, struggling.

One of the knights loyal to Lysa roared and charged forward, his comrades following him.

"At them!" Royce bellowed, his broadsword cutting down the first man who came against the large lord.

The battle was short and bloody, with Lady Lysa's being cut down or injured. They were not bad fighters, but against seasoned warriors like Royce, Redfort, Ser Morton, and others, they stood no chance. Harrold himself, the greenest of the group, had accounted for two of the bodies that now littered the ground.

Lord Royce stepped forward, his blade dripping scarlet. There was a dangerous look in the man's eyes, one that Harrold had only seen a few times, and only when a dangerous criminal had been brought before him. For how old Yohn Royce was, he was still a very dangerous man.

"Must this go further?" he asked, looking up at Lysa.

Lysa looked down at the bodies in shock, her face pale and drawn. "No," she whispered. "No no no no no."

With quickness that belied her frail figure, Lysa lunged towards her son and swept him up into her arms, clutching him close to her. The maester tried to calm her down as well, but she pushed the older man away.

"You can not do this!" she screamed insanely. "You can not! You will not!"

The woman was moving down the stairs towards the group, all of whom were watching her carefully. The woman seemed to have fully taken leave of her senses and was now spouting nonsense.

"You have no idea what I have done!" she continued to wail, continually shuffling out of the way of others, still gripping her son close to her chest. "I did everything he asked! Everything so that he could finally be mine! You will not take him away from me!"

"Be careful woman!" Lord Redfort shouted.

Lady Lysa was now dangerously close to the moon door, which had accidentally been opened during the battle when an Arryn guardsman had reeled back and slammed into the lever.

But Lysa was gone. "No!" she screamed. "I did everything he asked! He was going to be mine! I even killed that horrible old man!"

Royce stepped forward. "What are you saying?" he asked.

Lysa shook her head. "No! No! No! No! No!" she ranted, her heels no on the edge of the door, the updraft from the door fluttering her dress. "You will not take him from me!"

As five men ran forward to try and catch the woman and her child, Lady Lysa was quicker than them all. She stepped back, losing her balance, and fell. She and her son disappearing through the massive door, the wind covering their screams as they plummeted to their deaths.

The room was deathly quiet as everyone digested what had just happened. Lord Royce huffed in annoyance, flicking the blood from his blade as he unsheathed his weapon.

"Close the damn door," he ordered, glaring at a nearby knight, who hastily moved forward to do as he was told. Royce then turned to Harrold, who was gazing at the door, pale.

"Ser Harrold, you were next in line after your cousin. You must now lead the Vale." Royce rumbled.

Harrold looked up into the grey eyes of the older lord. He nodded slightly. "I will," he promised.

Lord Royce, ignoring the blood and gore on the floor, knelt before Harrold, bowing his head. "Hail, Lord Harrold Arryn, Lord of the Vale." he declared.

Almost as one, everyone in the chamber knelt as well, echoing the statement. Harrold looked around the room, unsure of how to feel or what to do. He nodded nervously. "Rise, please," he said, his voice sounding overly loud.

When everyone was back on their feet, Lord Redfort was the first to speak. "What are your orders, my lord?" he asked.

Harrold glanced at Royce, who nodded firmly. The young warrior and new Lord of the Eyrie gripped the hilt of his blade. "My lords, assemble your men. We have friends in the Riverlands waiting for us."