Capítulo 565: Chapter 565: The Arrival
"Petyr!"
At that very moment, Lady Lysa, who had been hiding inside the tent and thus narrowly escaping the skirmish, emerged. She was wearing a man's loose robe, running barefoot with disheveled hair, her face streaked with tears and mucus.
She rushed to Petyr Baelish, hugging him tightly, nearly knocking her heavily wounded uncle off his feet.
"Petyr! You're finally here! I thought you had abandoned me!"
Her tears flowed freely, a mix of sorrow and relief. Petyr had arrived later than they'd agreed upon. She had feared that he had considered her expendable, just another pawn in his game, leaving her and her uncle to their fate. But now that he had arrived, all her previous doubts vanished, replaced by visions of a happy future.
"Lysa..."
Yet as Petyr held the trembling woman in his embrace, a barely perceptible hint of disgust flashed in his eyes. Lady Lysa's initial words had unintentionally exposed Petyr's devious machinations to everyone present. Now, he could feel the skeptical gazes from those behind him.
"Enough, Lysa. Hush," he murmured, comforting her with the gentle tone of a doting husband, "My dear, foolish woman."
Pulling away, Petyr turned to his attendants, his black cloak billowing in the wind. "This is no place to linger. See to Lady Lysa's safety, and ensure Lord Robin Arryn is protected as well."
"As you command, my lord."
The Vale knights, clad in armor, hastened to obey, escorting Lady Lysa away from the chaotic battlefield.
Yet as Petyr turned to face Brynden Tully, he could feel the burning gaze of the Blackfish, whose suspicions had been stoked by Lysa's outburst. The treacherous plot Petyr and Lysa had devised was now laid bare for all to see: the intentional internal discord sown among the Vale nobility, the divide between Brynden and Jon Arryn, and Petyr's timely arrival to sweep up the remnants, solidifying his grip on the Vale's power.
However, Brynden Tully, though stubborn, was no fool. He knew when to hold his tongue, especially given the precarious situation.
"Maester Colemon!" Petyr called out, ignoring Brynden's furious glares. "Lord Tully is gravely injured. We need your aid."
Maester Colemon, a younger maester with sparse hair serving the Eyrie, approached. He had been close to Jon Arryn, treating him almost as a son. But now, his allegiance lay with Lady Lysa, and by extension, Petyr.
"Of course, my lord," Colemon replied, moving to attend to the wounded Blackfish.
But as the dust of battle began to settle and the situation stabilized, a thunderous roar echoed from above, causing everyone to look skyward.
"What's that sound?"
The knights of the Vale, already on edge, grew restless. Many looked up, shielding their eyes from the sun's glare, trying to discern the source of the noise.
"That's..."
Petyr's keen eyes narrowed as he identified the shape in the distance. A dragon, its wings spread wide, approached with alarming speed.
"A dragon!"
The earth trembled as Balerion, the mighty black dragon, descended from the sky, its roar deafening. Panic ensued among the soldiers, many of whom had never witnessed such a creature before. Some even considered dropping their weapons to flee into the mountains, momentarily forgetting their recent surrender to the Iron Throne.
However, Balerion made no move to attack. Instead, the dragon landed gracefully, letting out another booming roar. Upon its back sat a rider, and Petyr immediately recognized the significance. Without hesitation, he dropped to one knee in submission.
"Your Grace! Welcome to your loyal Vale."
Petyr's sudden display of fealty served as a cue for the others. One by one, the knights and nobles of the Vale dismounted and knelt, their armor clinking in unison.
"All hail the King!"
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