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Ser Andar Royce's face went pale.
He was Bronze Yohn's eldest son—the rightful heir to House Royce.
More than a dozen knights of the Vale exchanged uneasy glances. Their hands hovered uncertainly over their sword hilts.
They were the pride of the Vale, sworn knights loyal to House Arryn, and not a band of kidnappers abducting their own kin.
Andar Royce's brow tightened.
He nudged his horse forward a step, bowed low to Lady Lysa, and spoke with the calm firmness of a scion of a great house.
"My lady, forgive my frankness."
"Lord Edmure is your own brother, the protector of Riverrun and the Riverlands."
"We came here to forge an alliance, as you yourself agreed beforehand—not to launch a treacherous ambush like this."
"The honor of House Royce forbids me from raising my sword against an ally, let alone your own flesh and blood."
He invoked House Royce, an ancient family that had stood strong in the Vale for a thousand years, proud of their bronze and runes.
His father, Bronze Yohn, was the Vale's most respected lord and one of the staunchest supporters of both House Stark and House Arryn.
Andar's words shook the knights around him even more.
They revered Bronze Yohn's formidable name. They honored the code of knighthood.
"Honor?" Lysa burst into hysterical laughter.
Her wild laughter echoed over the empty riverbank, startling a flock of waterfowl.
"Can honor bring my Petyr back to me?"
"Can honor make Jon Arryn rise from his grave?"
Her laughter cut off sharply. Her twisted face twisted further, pure rage flashing across it.
"Honor is a dirge for the dead!"
"Ser Andar, I command you again: seize him!"
"Or you stand in rebellion against House Arryn!"
"I am loyal to House Arryn, to the Vale."
Andar Royce did not waver.
His hand rested firmly on his sword hilt.
"Not to your madness."
"My lady, what you are doing now betrays our alliance with the North and sullies House Arryn's Moon-and-Falcon banner!"
Edmure watched Andar stand before him, feeling a warm surge in his chest.
That backbone. That sense of duty. The same he'd seen in his father and in his uncle Brynden 'Blackfish', true nobility through and through.
It gave him a glimmer of hope.
No matter how mad Lysa was, surely she wouldn't ignore the counsel of her vassals.
After all, House Royce was the most powerful family in the Vale.
"Lysa! You're mad!" Edmure found his voice again, pulling himself out of shock.
"Stop! You can still turn back!"
"I swear I won't tell a soul what happened today. Please, just return to the Eyrie."
"Silence!"
Lysa screamed at him like a cornered beast.
"You have no say here!"
Her eyes locked onto Andar Royce's, flashing with murderous fury.
She knew—this was her moment.
Today, she had to make a show of strength.
Andar Royce would be the scapegoat, the chicken for the monkeys!
"Very well, Ser Andar."
Her voice suddenly dropped to an icy calm, cold enough to send a chill down anyone's spine.
Beneath her calm lay a deadly intent.
"You have chosen honor."
"Ser Vardis! Ser Lyndon!"
She turned to two other knights, old retainers of the Eyrie, equally loyal to House Arryn.
"This traitor has defied the Lady of the Vale's command and attempted to attack me!"
"In the name of House Arryn, I order you to kill him at once!"
Both knights' faces paled.
They glanced from Andar Royce to Lysa's unyielding expression.
On one side stood the Vale's future hope, the heir of Bronze Yohn.
On the other stood the liege lord they had sworn fealty to, the Lady of House Arryn.
It was a command they could not refuse.
"What?" one whispered.
"Do you want to die with him for some foolish notion of honor?"
Her words hit them like a bucket of ice water.
All hesitation drained away.
They were knights, but they also had families and lands to protect.
"Please... forgive me, Ser Andar."
Ser Vardis forced out the words, then slowly drew his sword.
Ser Lyndon followed silently, unsheathing his blade.
The rest of the knights stepped back, clearing the riverbank for the three of them.
A tragedy was about to unfold.
"Come then."
Andar's face held no fear.
He spurred his horse forward, his steel sword carving a sharp arc of cold light through the air as he charged his former brothers-in-arms.
CLANG!
Three longswords collided, sparking bright flashes.
Andar Royce fought like Bronze Yohn's son, bold, powerful, full of raw strength.
Even outnumbered two to one, he was no weaker.
Ser Vardis fought steadily but was clearly outmuscled.
Every clash sent a jolt through his hands.
Ser Lyndon was more nimble, circling Andar's flank, looking for a fatal opening.
Edmure watched, heart pounding.
He wanted to help, he was unarmed.
He wanted to call for aid, but the closest castle was miles away.
All he could do was watch.
Watch as his sister's madness turned kin against kin.
On the riverbank, sword blades flashed and hooves kicked up dust.
Andar Royce fought with growing ferocity. When Vardis paused to catch his breath, Andar swung a mighty blow down!
Vardis blocked, but the force shoved man and horse back several steps.
Now was the moment.
A fierce glint flashed in Andar's eyes.
He readied to press his advantage and finish one opponent.
Suddenly,
A sharp whistling SWISH tore through the noise.
The sound was faint, almost lost beneath clashing steel.
But Andar heard it.
His instincts screamed to dodge.
But before him was Ser Lyndon's stabbing blade.
There was no way out.
"Thud
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