"And you, you have the same face as your damned mother, you are so beautiful, young men can't tear their eyes away from you. Robert's Bastard, it seems he must have fallen for this beautiful face, that's why he went to such lengths to save you, and wants to kill my Petyr. Men are all like this, Robert slept with countless women, as long as my Petyr is faithful," Lysa raged. "Why didn't that Joffrey, that pervert, kill you? Joffrey is a villain, always giving my Robert vicious nicknames, once even hitting him with a wooden sword."
Sansa looked at her deranged aunt, trembling all over. It seemed the rumors were true, her aunt's mind was completely deluded by Littlefinger.
"Didn't you tell your father, your sister, your brother?" Ser Brynden asked.
"No, I only want Petyr. And my little Robert, let me see my Sweet Robin," Lysa screamed.
"Let's go, Sansa," Ser Brynden shook his head, truly hopeless. Even if he didn't want to be heartless, he had no choice.
"Yes, Great-Uncle," Sansa followed Ser Brynden, leaving the room. The white door gradually closed, and there was no longer any light in the room.
Lady Lysa's story made her shiver. She did not want to marry an old and ugly man; she wanted to marry a young and handsome one, like The Storm.
Brynden's face was filled with melancholy; the time for separation had come, and there would be no more Lysa and Petyr in the world... The Eyrie was exceptionally lively today; it was execution day. Outside the pure white high walls, there were only mountains and endless void.
Inside the great hall of The Eyrie, many prominent Lords of the Vale had gathered, following Gendry like butterflies around a flower, currying favor with this future powerful figure. Once the hawk, wolf, fish, and Stag worked together, combined with the Stag's excellent command, victory would not be far off.
Outside the intricately carved wooden doors of the hall, two guards stood on either side, cloaked in sky-blue and holding Longspears. All the Lords stood in solemn silence below.
Gendry did not sit on the high-backed weirwood throne on the dais; the weirwood made him wary. He sat on another throne, one that belonged to Robert Arryn, now covered with a thick blue cushion, making him appear even taller. On the wall behind the dais was a huge banner, a white crescent moon and falcon on a sky-blue field.
Barristan, Lothor, the girl from House Mormont, and Anguy stood on either side of Gendry. Brynden and Jon Snow should have been there too, as seven is a sacred number. However, as relatives, they now stood below.
Gendry wore simple black leather armor, light and agile. His outer cloak, however, was a heavy, rich three-color velvet: black, red, and gold.
Brynden, Jon Snow, and Sansa stood together. The Lords stood along the sides of the blue silk carpet in the hall, with rows of slender, Longspear-like pillars further out on either side. blue robes guards were positioned on both flanks, occasionally interspersed with Gendry's Gold Cloaks Knights. All the important figures of the Guardian Alliance were present: Bronze Yohn, Baron Nestor, Maester Colemon, Lady Anya of House Waynwood, and Ser Vardis. Only Grafton was absent, as he was busy clearing Gulltown.
Even the proudest Dumb Harry now obediently followed his foster mother. Because the vale men were rigid and concerned with appearances, the crabfeeders men, who had a grudge, were not invited to witness the spectacle.
The floor and walls of the hall were constructed of off-white, blue-veined marble. Spots of lazy, pale sunlight streamed through the narrow arched windows on the east wall. Between the windows, torches were set in high iron sconces, but they offered little light. Outside, the cold wind howled mournfully.
The marble was so white that it exuded a chilling, aloof coldness, sending shivers down one's spine.
"Time is up," Maester Colemon announced, looking at the blue and white hourglass in his hand.
"Bring the traitors," Gendry said, rising. As his gaze swept across them, the people of the Vale remained quiet and silent. The chill in the hall seemed to intensify, and with the weight of his words, it transformed into a frigid place, where the walls, floor, and pillars all became dragonglass.
A man and a woman were dragged in from opposite directions, their hands bound. Gold Cloaks pushed them forward; it was Lysa Tully and Petyr Baelish.
The two traitors were pulled to the center of the hall. Between two slender pillars, on the marble wall, was a narrow weirwood door, carved with a white crescent moon—the Moon Door of House Arryn. It was tightly shut, secured by three heavy bronze bolts, but Sansa could still hear the shrill sound of the wind whistling through the cracks.
Sansa had never witnessed a killing before, but after King's Landing, she had slowly begun to grow stronger.
"In the name of Robert I of House Baratheon, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the first men, ruler of the seven kingdoms and protector of the realm, I, Gendry, the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, lifelong Regent of the Stepstones, Tyrosh, and Myr, hereby sentence you two to death," Gendry declared loudly.
Gendry handed Ser Vardis a longsword, the Falcon Blade that had originally belonged to Lord Jon. Ser Vardis had earnestly requested to personally execute Lysa.
Ser Vardis, with his silver hair, robust physique, sky-blue cloak, and crescent moon and falcon breastplate, stepped forward. The Falcon Blade in his hand was a beautiful, double-edged longsword. The blade was intricately carved with silver threads depicting the long skies of the mountains, the hilt resembled a falcon's head, and the guard was shaped like two wings. This treasured longsword had been forged by Lysa for her husband during her time in King's Landing, and now she would die by it.
The blue robes guards lifted the three heavy bronze bolts, opening them one by one. Outside, there was only the clear sky, the void, and the great wind, desolate and cold. No one dared to look down; 600 feet below was Skywatch.
"Sweet Robin, Sweet Robin, please come and save me," Lysa pleaded, but no one listened to her words. The blue robes pushed the two to a position adjacent to the wind current. Lysa finally saw Petyr, the man she had longed for day and night, now greatly changed.
"Petyr, even though they harmed you so, I must have my revenge. If we die together, I will be content. Everything I did, everything I did was for you," Lysa cried. "You told me to put down Tears, and I did."
"Lysa, you are truly, truly difficult," Petyr looked at the foolish woman.
The blue robes pushed the two to a spot not far from the Moon Door. Their dying wails were even more nauseating. They then placed a round log in front of each of them. Pushing them directly would be merciful; first came the beheading of the traitors.
"Don't you understand? My whole life, my whole life I have only loved one person?" Petyr looked at Lysa, his eyes filled with weariness and disgust. At this point, he no longer deceived himself.
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