The mountain roads connecting The Vale to The Riverlands were rugged and difficult to traverse.
Lysa Arryn's company was like a long, gray snake wriggling among the craggy rocks.
She had not taken a comfortable carriage, opting instead to ride a horse.
The biting mountain wind messed up her hair, but it could not dispel the madness in her eyes.
The letter brought by the raven made her disbelieve it.
She simply refused to believe it!
When she stood alive before her father, bringing her son and the future of House Arryn, how could her father still utter such heartless words!
Father was old and confused.
Her older sister Catelyn married into the Stark family, and her heart had turned into the ice and snow of the North, forgetting the sisterly bond between them.
They did not understand.
None of them understood what Petyr meant to her!
And they certainly did not understand the desperate situation she was currently facing!
Robert's executioner's blade was already raised high.
She could even smell the murderous intent emanating from the blade.
She had nowhere left to retreat!
"Mother..."
A cowardly voice came from behind her.
Robert Arryn, the boy as frail as a reed, was clutching his fur cloak tightly, shivering on horseback.
He was long accustomed to the chill winds of The Eyrie's heights, but the cold wind in these mountain paths made him feel a primal fear deep in his bones.
"Why... why are we here? I want to go back to The Eyrie..."
Lysa abruptly pulled on the reins and looked back at her son.
In those bloodshot eyes, there was no maternal tenderness, only the irritation and savagery of being defied.
"Silence!"
She reprimanded him sharply.
"We are going to see your grandfather! To let him see you! The bloodline of House Arryn! He will protect us!"
Little Robert shrank his neck in fear, not daring to make another sound, though his small body trembled even more violently.
Lysa ignored him, striking her horse's flank fiercely with her spurs and galloping towards Riverrun.
She left the entire Vale behind her, abandoning it to the vassals whom she had incited but who all harbored their own sinister intentions.
That was right; she had done this intentionally.
Someone had to be used to establish her authority.
Only then could she pave the way for the coming war... When Lysa Arryn's dusty, travel-worn company appeared below Riverrun, the entire castle was alarmed.
Edmure Tully stood on the castle walls.
He looked at the blue and white Falcon-and-Moon banner of House Arryn, his expression exceedingly complicated.
He had not expected his usually willful sister to actually take such a drastic, insane step.
The castle gates slowly opened.
Lysa did not wait for any welcoming ceremony.
She dismounted, carelessly tossing the reins to a stunned attendant.
Then she yanked her still-shivering son from the horse's back and strode rapidly towards the main keep.
"Where is Father?!"
Her voice echoed through the courtyard, sharp as a hawk's cry.
Edmure hurried to meet her, his face etched with difficulty.
"Father... his health is very poor, the maester said he needs rest..."
"You really shouldn't disturb him now."
"Rest?"
Lysa let out a cold laugh, shoving aside Edmure, who was trying to block her way.
"By the time he's rested, his daughter and grandson will have had their heads chopped off by that drunkard Robert!"
Like a whirlwind, she rushed into the bedroom, which was filled with the heavy scent of herbs and the air of death.
Hoster Tully, the Lord Paramount.
The former Warden of The Riverlands was now just a pile of dry bones lying in bed.
His breathing was faint and shallow; every rise and fall seemed like a struggle against the Stranger.
Hearing the commotion at the door, he laboriously opened his clouded eyes.
When he recognized the visitor as Lysa, those eyes erupted with a terrifying light mixed with fury and disappointment.
"What... what are you doing here?"
The old man's voice was accompanied by ragged gasps.
"What am I doing here?"
Lysa pushed little Robert forward to the bedside.
"Father, look at him! Your grandson!"
"The only bloodline of House Arryn!"
"Do you want him to die?!"
"Do you want him to be crushed like a chick by that usurper Robert?!"
"Madwoman..."
Lord Hoster began to cough violently, his withered chest heaving.
"You lunatic! For the sake of a baseborn... cough, cough... Baelish, you will destroy all of us!"
"Petyr is not baseborn!"
Lysa shrieked, her face, haggard from the long journey, instantly contorting.
"He is the best man in the world!"
"It was you! All of you who forced him to his death!"
"And now, you are trying to force me to my death too!"
"Father! I am your daughter! Are you going to stand by and watch me die?!"
Lysa threw herself onto the bedside, gripping the old man's hand—a skeletal thing of skin and bone—as her tears burst forth.
They were not tears of sadness, but an outpouring of fury and grievance.
"Get out..."
Lord Hoster used all his strength to try and pull his hand away.
"I do not... do not have a daughter like you..."
"The motto of House Tully is 'Family, Duty, Honor'!"
"You murdered your husband; that is injustice! You invited the wolf into the house; that is disloyalty! You are dragging down the family; that is impiety!"
"You... you have defiled the honor of House Tully!"
Every word the old man spoke pierced Lysa's heart.
All her hope, all her fantasies, were shattered at this moment.
"Well... well said, 'Family, Duty, Honor'..."
Lysa slowly released his hand and stood upright.
The tear tracks on her face were not yet dry.
Lysa Arryn slowly straightened up.
In those blue eyes, there was no longer a trace of sadness or grievance, only an all-consuming madness!
She leaned down, her face almost touching her father's gaunt cheek.
Her voice was no longer a scream or a sob, but a whisper more chilling than the cold mountain wind.
"Father, you speak to me of honor?"
"Have you forgotten who sold me like chattel to Jon Arryn, a man older than you?"
"Just so you could have a powerful ally in King's Landing!"
"You speak to me of duty?"
"I am about to die, yet you hide in this castle waiting for death, without even the courage to fight for me! Is that your duty?"
"You speak to me of family?"
"Hypocrisy!"
"To be born a Tully was truly a curse."
She let out a sneer, the sound particularly grating in the deathly silent bedroom.
"For the reputation of House Tully, you forced me to abort the child Petyr and I conceived!"
"Why did you not speak to me of family then?!"
"You only cared about your face! Your status!"
"When have you ever truly cared about me?!"
How could Hoster Tully's already failing heart endure this?
The old man's clouded eyes suddenly widened, filled with extreme terror and disbelief.
What did he see?
He did not see his daughter Lysa.
But a monster completely twisted by hatred!
"You... you wicked..."
Hoster struggled, trying to sit up, trying to curse, trying to drive this unnatural daughter out of Riverrun.
But his failing body could not support even the smallest movement.
A rush of sweet, metallic liquid surged up from his throat.
"Hoo... hoo..."
He desperately clutched his own neck.
His withered face swelled into a terrifying liver-purple color, and his eyeballs bulged from lack of oxygen.
He wanted to cry for help, to let Edmure outside see his sister's true face.
But only a faint rasping sound could escape his throat.
Lysa reached out and covered the mouth he was trying to use to cry for help, then watched him coldly.
She watched her father struggle in agony, watching his life slowly ebb away before her eyes.
There was no expression on her face.
No fear, no pity, not even a hint of satisfaction.
Only the indifference of a mere bystander.
As if the man before her was a stranger with whom she shared no blood.
Finally, the withered body suddenly stiffened, then slumped down like a pile of mud.
The eyes that had been staring fixedly at her lost their final light, becoming gray and hollow.
Hoster Tully, Lord of Riverrun, Warden of The Riverlands.
He was dead.
Driven to death by his youngest daughter.
The bedroom fell back into dead silence.
Lysa slowly stood upright.
She did not look at the still-warm corpse on the bed, but turned and looked towards the door.
Footsteps.
It was Edmure.
Just a second before Edmure pushed the door open.
The extreme indifference on Lysa's face instantly vanished.
It was replaced by a heart-wrenching grief profound enough to move even the most stone-hearted person.
"Father—!"
A mournful, almost inhuman wail erupted from her lips, echoing throughout Riverrun.
She violently threw herself onto the bedside, collapsing her entire body onto Hoster's corpse.
"Father! Wake up! Look at me! I am Lysa!"
"How could you leave... How could you just leave like this..."
When Edmure Tully rushed into the room, this was the scene he witnessed.
His sister, like a helpless child, was weeping uncontrollably over their father's body, crying as if her heart would break.
And their father was utterly silent.
"Father?!"
"Oh gods!"
Edmure's mind went blank with a 'buzz'.
He stumbled to the bedside, reaching out with a trembling hand to check Hoster's breath.
None.
Nothing at all.
"Maester! Quick! Call the Maester!"
Edmure roared towards the door like a madman.
Soon, the elderly maester hurried in, panting, carrying his medical kit.
He checked Lord Hoster's pupils and listened to his heart.
Finally, he slowly stood up and shook his head gravely at Edmure.
"My Lord... he is gone..."
"No—!"
Edmure let out a wail of despair and collapsed onto the floor.
He could not accept it.
Just moments ago, Father had been fine, weak but lucid.
How could he... the moment Lysa arrived? Edmure's gaze subconsciously fell upon his sister, who was still sobbing hysterically.
A terrible thought flashed through his mind.
Just then, Lysa seemed to have wept away all her strength.
She slowly raised her head.
Her tear-stained face was etched with heartbreaking sorrow and vulnerability.
She looked at the distraught Edmure, and spoke through tearful eyes.
"Brother... Father... he passed peacefully..."
"He saw me and little Robert, and he was very happy..."
"He held my hand, and he said... he said he could finally rest easy..."
Lysa spoke between sobs, her masterful performance convincing enough to deceive the entire Seven Kingdoms.
"He said House Tully could not be weak as it was before... He said he agreed... he agreed to an alliance with The Vale..."
"He said to you... he said you must listen to me, protect Riverrun, and protect our home..."
Edmure was completely stunned.
Father... agreed?
He actually changed his mind right before he died?
How... how could this be?
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