Within an hour of the events, the Eyrie was placed under complete lockdown.
A raven's message flew to the Bloody Gate, and under the name of Ser Brynden Tully, Knight of the Gate, the garrison was ordered to seal it. The Eyrie was cut off from the world.
Once the Vale lords and Kal Stone had secured control of the stronghold from the mad Lady Lysa, they assembled again in the Great Hall.
Unlike the day before, when Kal had first arrived, the Moon Door now stood firmly shut.
After fierce debate, marked by clashing opinions, they finally reached a decision regarding the governance of the Eyrie.
Poor, innocent Robert Arryn had no idea what was happening.
He huddled on the weirwood throne, wide eyes filled with terror as he looked at the gathering before him.
Only moments ago, these bloodstained men had stormed into the chamber he shared with his mother. Without explanation, soldiers had torn him from her arms—arms that had only just been nursing him.
What happened after, he did not know. He had been carried to an empty room by soldiers without any family crest, left to cry and wail, but no one came to comfort him.
Then, afterward, someone brought him here.
Looking at the pitiful child, Ser Brynden Tully, the Blackfish, stepped up to the weirwood throne. His face softened with sorrow as he reached out to ruffle the boy's hair.
"Everything will pass, child. We'll see that it's all set right."
The Blackfish's hand lingered on Robert Arryn's head, then he stretched out his arms and gently lifted him.
He cast a glance around the hall at the gathered lords of the Vale. With a weary sigh that he kept locked in his heart, he carried away the little lord of the Eyrie.
As the conclusion of the earlier debate, all present had agreed to entrust their young lord temporarily to Brynden Tully's care.
As Robert Arryn's great-uncle and blood kin, the lords placed their trust in the Blackfish's honor.
But when it came to the council between the Warden of the East and the assembled lords, Brynden himself had insisted he would not join, saying he lacked the right.
For even recalling what he had learned—that shocking, absurd affair outside the glass-walled solar, the corridors filled with severed limbs—still left his mind numb and his back cold.
Even now, cradling Robert Arryn, Brynden could almost feel his boots slipping on the thick, sticky mixture of blood and fat that had run down the steps.
As the Blackfish bore the little lord away—no longer crying or fussing—all eyes in the hall turned toward the young man who remained among them.
Remembering what had just transpired, the lords of the Vale realized what it would have meant if Lysa Tully had truly managed to trap the new Warden of the East, along with them, the ruling lords of so many Vale domains, inside the Eyrie.
The outcome needed no explanation. It would have been a sudden purge, a power vacuum, a terrifying upheaval.
Especially now, with the Seven Kingdoms already facing such grave peril.
The thought chilled the lords' spines and deepened their horror and fury at Lysa Tully's madness.
Part of it was fear for their lives. But there was more—
Yet the lords saw only that much.
Kal, who knew more, could not voice what he had learned.
He had no proof, and he could not expect these foxlike lords to believe a claim made without evidence.
In truth, even Kal himself was unsettled. He could not clearly grasp what sort of storm now gripped the Vale.
Not even he could be sure whether Littlefinger alone was truly behind all of this turmoil.
This crime—unspeakable, a violation not only of sacred guest rights but of reason itself—was pure madness, dragging everything into the abyss.
All hearts in the hall felt weighed down, as though beneath a drifting cloud of shadow.
Once matters with Lysa Tully and Robert Arryn had been handled, the gathered lords turned their eyes once more to Kal.
After a moment's thought, he strode forward with a dark expression and mounted the steps to the weirwood throne.
He exhaled slowly, then turned to face them.
"Lysa Tully's matter has been dealt with. As for what punishment her crimes deserve, that will be for the king to decide. I trust, my lords, that none of you will object."
Kal's first words set a firm judgment on the matter.
Though Lysa Tully's madness had enraged them all, the vassals of House Arryn—and even Kal himself, the legitimized yet still an outsider bastard Warden of the East—felt they had no right to pass judgment on her.
Even with Kal's authority as Warden of the East, though he could have struck off Lysa's head on the spot without opposition, he forced down his fury after careful thought. He chose instead to leave the matter for the Iron Throne to decide.
Lysa Tully's crimes were beyond pardon, yet her status was unique. The legacy of Jon Arryn alone was enough to preserve her life—especially given the perilous state of the Seven Kingdoms now.
And, more importantly, there was another reason Kal had for sparing her.
His eyes narrowed slightly, masking the tidal wave of killing intent surging within him.
"No objections, then. Leaving Lady Lysa's crimes to the judgment of the Iron Throne is the best outcome."
The lords were content to avoid soiling their own names with the matter.
And since the Warden of the East himself had spoken so, in both reason and propriety it was indeed the proper course.
Kal Stone's decision, while leaving many lords seething in anger, still allowed them to breathe easier.
Their surviving sense of reason guided them toward the wisest choice. After all, unlike Lysa, they were not mad.
Seeing no dispute, Kal gave a curt nod before continuing, his face expressionless.
"Then, my lords, what of the future arrangements and care of Robert Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie? What thoughts do you have on this matter?"
With that, Kal cast a far heavier question before them.
At once the lords grew solemn.
Compared to Lysa Tully's fate, this was the true issue that would determine the future of the Eyrie and the Vale.
Robert Arryn, the sole surviving heir of House Arryn, bore the entire weight of the Vale's future upon his frail shoulders—there was no disputing it.
Yet after all that had transpired, and with Robert's own weak constitution, layer upon layer of worry crept into every heart present.
As silence fell, no one spoke. Kal waited patiently.
Truth be told, he too was uncertain on this matter.
Apart from lacking a title of lordship, he now held the highest standing in the hall, both nominally ruler of the Vale and the direct superior of these men.
The events of the past two days had granted him real authority in the Vale, yet Kal was unwilling to push too far.
It was authority enough to ensure the lords could no longer ignore him—nothing more.
The Eyrie lay in silence. The lords glanced from one to another, none able to voice a suitable decision.
The matter touched on the very inheritance of the Vale, and none dared treat it lightly.
"Perhaps… should Lord Robert return to King's Landing?"
At last, after long silence, a minor noble in the corner ventured a suggestion.
Kal sat upon the weirwood throne, chin propped on one hand, not even glancing at the man who had spoken.
After all, for the lords of the Vale—already skittish as startled birds—such a suggestion was hardly daring enough.
And sure enough, before Kal could even speak, several of the clearer-headed nobles swiftly rejected the idea, scolding the man who had proposed it.
Kal remained silent, eyes closed, refusing to take part in their quarrel.
Leaving aside how much trust the Vale held toward King's Landing in its current chaos, the boy was the Vale's sole heir—hardly someone they could hand away so casually.
Thus, the suggestion collapsed as expected.
After the uproar died down, silence returned to the air.
"My Lord Royce, perhaps you might raise and guide young Lord Robert?"
Suddenly, a voice rang out with what sounded like a reasonable proposal.
Kal lifted his eyelids at the sound.
He saw that the speaker was Lord Royce Corbray of Coldwater Burn, a lesser noble sworn to House Royce of Runestone.
At once, all eyes turned to Yohn Royce, the Bronze Lord.
Meeting their gaze, Yohn pondered for a moment, then shook his head.
"This is not the right time. War looms, and I must consider other duties—" His voice was heavy as he spoke.
For he had noticed the meaningful looks from a few nobles the moment the suggestion had been raised.
But that was not his true reason for refusal. His thoughts reached further.
"I believe it best if young Lord Robert remains with Lord Kal Stone."
While the lords were still wrestling with the burden of this hot coal, Lady Anya Waynwood suddenly spoke out, catching them all off guard.
At once, the lords turned toward Kal, who had thrown out the question in the first place.
Seated on the weirwood throne and lost in other thoughts, Kal was startled by Lady Anya's unexpected words.
"Me?"
He lifted his chin, pointing at himself in confusion.
He could not fathom why they so naturally assumed he should take on the burden of raising such a troublesome child.
Seeing Kal's astonishment, Lady Anya, after a long silence and a sudden flash of inspiration, smiled and pressed on: "I believe, my lord Warden of the East, that you are the most suitable. And what's more, this would allow young Lord Robert to learn directly from you—and we would hope, in time, that you might make him as strong as yourself."
"The Vale needs him—and it needs a strong heir even more."
"And I believe that if Lord Jon Arryn were here, he too would agree."
Lady Anya Waynwood spoke steadily, each word ringing with weight.
Yet the intent behind her words carried a deeper meaning than what her voice alone revealed.
Noticing that Lady Anya made no effort to conceal her aim, the lords of the Vale, after a brief pause, quickly began to think further on it.
From all they had seen of Kal Stone over the past two days, they found themselves impressed by the young Warden of the East. He possessed none of the recklessness that should have belonged to one of his years.
Still, when faced with the challenge Lady Anya had thrown before them, the lords exchanged looks, none daring to make a final decision.
"I too propose that young Lord Robert Arryn remain at the Warden's side, to learn under him, while Ser Brynden Tully jointly serves as guardian."
So spoke Yohn Royce at last, after thoughtful silence and several exchanged glances among the gathered lords.
The Vale had been thrown into chaos, one wave of turmoil after another.
And they all knew an account would have to be given to the Iron Throne.
Yohn had considered taking Robert into his own household. But in the present circumstances, both reason and propriety made that impossible.
War loomed beyond, while within the Vale itself chaos reigned.
No noble among them was suited to take the young lord into his keeping.
But leaving him in the Eyrie under watch left them uneasy.
And King's Landing—King's Landing had lost every shred of their trust.
Hemmed in on all sides, it seemed that for Robert Arryn the only truly safe place left was at Kal Stone's side.
Kal was the unexpected figure, yet with his protection, they could rest easy. His very status carried implications that might also reassure the Iron Throne of the Vale's stability.
It appeared to be a rare solution that offered both safety and advantage.
And compared to the others, they trusted Kal Stone more—this bastard son raised in the Vale, who seemed less entangled in the core interests of their great houses.
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