章 498: Chapter 499: A Belated Judgment
The white dragon soared over the snow-capped peaks of the Mountains of the Moon.
Seven slender white towers, tightly connected, loomed faintly through the clouds like seven pure white daggers piercing the heavens.
"Your Majesty, ahead lies the Eyrie," Bran Stark said.
Samwell nodded silently, patting Cleopatra's neck to signal her descent.
The Eyrie, as the political center of the Vale, perched atop the Mountains of the Moon. It was the highest and most impregnable castle in Westeros.
To reach the Eyrie, invaders would first need to conquer the Bloody Gate along the narrow mountain pass, then capture the Gates of the Moon at the mountain's base. From there, they would have to ascend a treacherously narrow path, exposed to the Eyrie's defenses and those of the three waycastles on the slopes.
Built from pristine white stone, the castle merged with the snow-covered mountain, reflecting dazzling light under the sun.
The arrival of a white dragon caused a stir within the castle, but Lady Lysa Tully, mother of Lord Robert Arryn, quickly appeared, surrounded by heavily armed knights to greet the king.
"Your Majesty, I didn't expect you to visit the Eyrie! We received no prior notice…"
"We're merely passing through," Samwell replied. "This is not an official visit, and we'll only stay for the night."
"Of course, of course."
Compared to the last time they'd met in Starfall, Lady Lysa seemed like a completely different person.
She looked as though she had aged decades. Her once vibrant auburn hair had thinned and was streaked with gray. Beneath her expensive velvet gown and jeweled corset, her body appeared bloated and slack.
Her pale face was heavily powdered, yet deep wrinkles etched across her features were still visible. Though only in her thirties, she looked like a woman in her sixties.
---
"Aunt Lysa," Bran Stark called as he dismounted from the dragon with Hodor's help. "How have you been lately?"
"I've been fine, fine," Lady Lysa forced a smile. "Bran, I heard about your fall from the tower. It was terrible! Thank the Seven for sparing your life."
"Pity they didn't spare Uncle Jon," Bran said abruptly.
Lady Lysa froze, a flicker of panic crossing her face before she quickly masked it. She turned to Samwell, speaking warmly:
"Your Majesty, please come inside. It's cold out here."
"Colder than the Wall?" Samwell replied indifferently but followed her into the castle.
---
The snow-covered gardens stretched in a sea of white.
As they passed a marble statue of a weeping woman, Samwell paused.
"This must be the statue of Alyssa Arryn?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," Lysa answered, unsure why he was suddenly interested in the statue but maintaining a respectful tone.
"I've heard that six thousand years ago, Alyssa Arryn watched her family slaughtered yet shed no tears." Samwell said meaningfully, "As punishment, the gods decreed that she would weep forever after her death."
"Yes. The great waterfall, Alyssa's Tears, was named after her. The gods cursed her tears to flow endlessly from the Mountains of the Moon, watering the fertile Vale below," Lysa replied, her voice tinged with unease.
"The gods are just," Bran remarked.
Samwell said no more and continued toward the hall, entering through a narrow weirwood door.
Inside, the warm glow of the evening sun streamed through arched windows, and iron sconces holding torches radiated heat that warmed the chamber.
At the far end of the blue-veined marble floor stood a weirwood throne, its back adorned with the crescent moon and falcon sigil of House Arryn.
Samwell seated himself on the throne and asked, "Where is Lord Robert Arryn?"
"He's resting," Lysa replied.
"So early?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. Robert is still young and tires easily."
"The king has come to the Vale, yet the lord of the Eyrie does not greet him?" Bran questioned.
"Apologies, Your Majesty," Lysa said hastily. "Robert's health has always been poor, and he recently drank a dose of milk of the poppy. It's unlikely we can wake him."
"Forget it, then," Samwell said with a wave of his hand. He then asked, "Where is Andar Royce?"
"Andar returned to Runestone," Lysa replied cautiously.
Samwell's eyes narrowed, his tone turning cold.
"He is the Warden of the Vale, appointed by me. Until Robert Arryn comes of age, he is to oversee the Vale's affairs. How could he leave the Eyrie?"
"Andar said he couldn't adapt to the cold of the Eyrie," Lysa explained nervously. "Besides, Your Majesty, the position of Warden of the Vale has traditionally been held by the Arryns…"
"Are you questioning my authority?" Samwell's voice dropped to an icy chill that filled the hall, dimming the torchlight.
"N-no…" Lysa stammered, trembling under the oppressive aura that seemed to crush the air from her lungs.
Trying to ease the tension, she quickly added, "Your Majesty, do you know when Edmure and Talla's wedding will take place? I'd like to bring Robert to attend."
Samwell did not answer. Instead, he fixed Lysa with a cold stare, remaining silent until beads of sweat formed on her forehead. Finally, he spoke:
"Summon every knight in this castle. I have an announcement."
Lysa's unease deepened, but she dared not disobey.
Before long, over a hundred knights loyal to House Arryn had gathered in the hall.
"Your Majesty, all of House Arryn's knights are present," Lysa said, stealing glances at the King.
Seated on the weirwood throne, Samwell appeared more imposing than ever. The pale marble walls reflected a cold light, but it was nothing compared to the icy presence emanating from the King himself.
He came from the Wall of Despair, as if he had also brought the frost of the far north to the Eyrie.
Lady Lysa felt anxious, but at the same time, she kept reassuring herself—
Impossible, he can't possibly know about that!
But if not, why would the King treat her this way?
And the hint of Alyssa's Tears...
Lysa's heart pounded. He knows.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Samwell began, his voice resonating throughout the hall, "today, I ask you to bear witness."
"Witness?" The knights exchanged puzzled looks but remained attentive.
"Four years ago, Jon Arryn, the former Lord of the Eyrie, was poisoned and died in Starfall," Samwell continued. "I was there and witnessed the tragedy firsthand. Since that day, I swore to uncover the truth and bring the culprit to justice."
"The culprit is dead, Your Majesty!" Lysa interjected quickly. "The 'Red Viper,' Oberyn Martell, was the one! You killed him yourself at Sunspear. You've already avenged Jon Arryn. The Seven bear witness—House Arryn will forever remember your kindness!"
"Is that so?" Samwell smiled faintly before turning to Bran. "I heard that the 'Three-Eyed Raven' flies in the long river of time and sees the scenes of the past. Bran, have you seen the real murderer who killed Jon Arryn?"
Bran nodded, fixing his aunt with an unyielding stare.
"Aunt Lysa, the one who killed Uncle Jon Arryn is you."
The hall erupted into shocked murmurs as the knights turned incredulous eyes toward Lysa.
"You're lying, Bran!" Lysa's voice trembled, her hands shaking. "You must be mistaken!"
"I swear on the honor of House Stark," Bran said solemnly. "Every word I've spoken is the truth."
"No! Never!" Lysa shrieked. "How could I murder my own husband?"
"Because you didn't love him," Bran replied coldly. "You loved Petyr Baelish the Little Finger, who ordered you to poison Uncle Jon Arryn."
The murmurs in the hall grew louder.
"Lies! All lies!" Lady Lysa pointed a trembling finger at Bran, her face twisting into a grotesque snarl. "Why are you accusing me? I am your mother's sister!"
"A kin-slayer is condemned by the gods," Bran said coldly.
Lady Lysa shook with rage, but then her gaze shifted to the king seated on the weirwood throne. Desperately, she pleaded:
"Your Majesty, please don't believe Bran's lies! How could I do such a thing? I—"
"What if I do believe him?" Samwell interrupted icily.
Lysa froze in place as if turned to stone. The room grew so silent that the sound of the wind howling outside the castle could be heard.
Samwell rose from the throne, his gaze locked on Lysa.
"Lysa Tully, when Robert Baratheon summoned a trial in King's Landing to expose the truth about Jon Arryn's death, why did you refuse to testify?"
"I…" Lysa stammered. "I feared the Red Viper's retaliation! Yes, I was afraid he would poison me as well!"
"Really?" Samwell's voice dripped with sarcasm. "And what about your relationship with Petyr Baelish?"
"That's another lie!" Lysa shouted. "How could I love a man from a minor house? Have you seen the Baelish lands, Your Majesty? They're nothing but barren coasts, jagged rocks, sheep dung, and horse manure!"
"If that's true," Bran interjected, "then why did you bear his child?"
The hall fell deathly quiet. Lysa stood motionless, as if struck by lightning.
"Yes, Aunt Lysa, I know everything," Bran said, his tone calm yet resolute. His expression held a mix of pity and wisdom far beyond his years. "There's no point in denying it anymore."
Samwell stepped forward.
"Petyr Baelish confessed everything before his death. For years, I had little time to address this matter, and you hid yourself in the Eyrie, thinking you could evade justice. But justice, Lysa Tully, is inevitable. The gods will not allow your crimes to go unpunished."
Lysa swayed on her feet before collapsing onto her knees. Her laughter rang out, harsh and broken.
"Yes… I loved Petyr. You have no idea how much we endured, how much pain we suffered. None of you could understand. I carried a child for him, a sweet and precious little one…"
Her face contorted with rage.
"But they took it away from me! They murdered my child with a cup of moon tea! I didn't even know what it was when my father handed it to me. They killed my baby, then threw me to an old, stinking man!
I hated them!
I hated all of them!
Petyr swore to avenge our child, and I helped him. I poisoned Jon Arryn, that old wretch, and to his dying breath, he never knew it was me!
Hahaha! He never knew!"
The knights of House Arryn, who had been listening in stunned silence, erupted in outrage.
"Kill her!" one shouted.
"Execute her! Avenge Lord Jon!" cried another.
The hall filled with demands for Lysa's execution, voices echoing like a storm.
Samwell stood and descended from the throne. He strode toward Lysa, who remained on her knees, trembling uncontrollably. He seized her arm and hauled her to her feet.
Lysa did not resist. She allowed herself to be dragged, her face pale and lifeless, as if her spirit had already fled.
Samwell led her to the center of the hall, where two slender stone columns flanked a narrow weirwood door. This door was secured with three heavy bronze bars, behind which the roar of wind could be faintly heard.
"That's the Moon Door…" Lysa's eyes widened in terror as she recognized the crescent moon carved into the wood. Her voice turned shrill as she began to struggle.
"No! No! Please, Your Majesty! Mercy! Mercy! I still have a son! My brother is set to marry your sister! Have mercy!"
"You, Lysa Tully, are unworthy of mercy," Samwell declared, his voice devoid of emotion.
He pinned her arms behind her back with one hand and used the other to unfasten the bronze bars. The first bar clattered loudly onto the marble floor.
The second followed, and then the third.
With a deafening crash, the weirwood door swung open, slammed back by the howling winds. Snow blew into the hall, and icy air filled the room.
Lysa recoiled from the open Moon Door, her body trembling violently. She peered into the abyss beyond, where only the endless blue sky, white snow, and the sound of the wind awaited. Below lay nothing but an immeasurable void.
"Please… please don't!" she wailed, tears streaming down her face.
"This is your long-overdue judgment," Samwell said coldly.
Then, with a gentle push, he sent her staggering forward.
Lysa screamed as she stumbled through the Moon Door, her cries fading into the emptiness below.
The hall fell silent once more, save for the wind howling through the open doorway.
(End of Chapter)
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