After The Eyrie was fully occupied, Ser Andar went to the castle hall to find Viserys.
"Your Majesty." Andar performed a salute. "The Eyrie is completely under control."
Viserys looked at him and spoke, "Lysa Tully and her son are currently held in the cells of The Eyrie. We still need a trial to give the Vale an explanation."
Andar asked cautiously, "How does Your Majesty intend to deal with them?"
"That depends on the outcome of the trial. We will summon all the nobles of the Vale to hold a public trial." Viserys stood up and walked toward him. "But before that, I need you to help me take over the defense of The Eyrie and ensure the castle functions normally until I reclaim the iron throne."
For the next few days, The Eyrie passed in a strange state of calm. Andar took over the authority of the High Steward; his army was integrated with the original garrison of The Eyrie to resume duties, and the servants gradually returned to their normal work. The only anomaly was the three-headed giant dragon in the castle that would occasionally stir.
During this time, the Maester of The Eyrie sent letters to the nobles of the Vale, requesting their attendance at the trial. Lord Yohn was the first to arrive, as Andar had informed him of Viserys's arrival beforehand.
He was quite pleased to see Andar take on the role of the castle's steward; after all, it was beneficial to build a good relationship with the Dragon King. If not for Andar's older age, he would have even considered having him serve as Viserys's squire.
On the day of the trial, inside the Sky cells of The Eyrie.
Lysa Tully huddled tightly in the corner of the cold stone wall, far from the precipice outside. Her long dress was covered in stains, and her hair hung in a disheveled mess.
She had wept every day during this time, her throat so hoarse she could not make a proper sound.
"Petyr, my Littlefinger, you will surely come to save me..." she muttered to herself, already becoming somewhat neurotic. Since she hadn't seen her son for several days, young Robert was now her lifeblood. "He said he would protect me, he said..."
Memories flooded her mind uncontrollably: Petyr's gentle fingers stroking her cheek, whispering promises in her ear that made her heart race.
Just then, the voices of guards talking came from outside the cell. From their words, she could tell they were going to take her to the trial.
When the cell door opened, two soldiers wearing the armor of the Royce family walked in and immediately grabbed her arms. Lysa tried to struggle, but their hands were as firm as iron pincers.
"Let me go! I am the Lady of The Eyrie, the wife of the Warden of the East!" she shouted, but only a small sound came out. "You traitors, my father is the Lord of the Riverlands, my sister is the Lady of the North, you cannot do this to me!"
But the soldiers escorting her did not react, dragging her along until they left the cells. Finally, they brought her to the High Hall of The Eyrie.
This was the place where House Arryn had ruled the Vale for generations. In the center of the hall was a Moon Door—a narrow door set into the floor that opened to a six-hundred-foot drop to the abyss. This was the place House Arryn used for executions; those pushed through would be smashed to pulp at the bottom of the valley.
On the dais of the hall sat the Weirwood Throne, a seat carved from a single piece of pale giant stone with armrests shaped like falcons with outspread wings. The falcon was the sigil of House Arryn, but the person sitting on the throne now was not of the Arryn family.
Viserys sat casually on the throne, one hand resting on the armrest, his posture appearing languid yet exuding a sense of majesty.
Nobles of the Vale who had rushed there stood on both sides of the hall. Besides those who had secretly sided with him long ago, there were many who remained neutral or still loyal to House Arryn, though their expressions were complex now. As for young Robert, he was being held aside, denied any chance to contact Lysa.
Lysa was dragged before the throne. As soon as the two soldiers let go, her legs gave way and she collapsed to her knees.
"Lysa Tully," Viserys spoke, his voice echoing in the hall. "You are accused of murdering your husband, the former Lord of the Vale, Jon Arryn. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
Lysa looked up, the confusion in her eyes suddenly replaced by madness. Her voice seemed to gain strength as if injected with adrenaline. "I did not! Jon died of illness. You men always want to push all the blame onto women. Just because I refused to marry any of you, just because I want to protect my son's inheritance!"
She pointed at several nobles present. "You, Nestor, you pursued me three times and held a grudge after I rejected you. And you, Redfort, you also wanted to marry me, and I refused... You all made up these lies because you couldn't have me."
The nobles who were called out looked displeased, and Nestor's face turned red, but they found it hard to refute her, as Lysa's accusations weren't entirely baseless; many people knew of their previous courtships.
Viserys listened quietly to her ranting, and only when she paused for breath did he slowly say, "Then, what about Petyr Baelish?"
The mention of that name instantly shattered Lysa. Her expression first froze, replaced by shock and fear.
"Littlefinger... No, Lord Petyr is just my friend, we grew up together." Her voice suddenly became very small again. "He helped me in King's Landing before, and he took care of me after Arryn died."
"Just a friend?" Viserys pressed. "The intelligence I received shows your relationship goes far beyond that. In fact, there is evidence that the plan to poison Jon Arryn was masterminded by Petyr and then carried out by you."
"No!" Lysa cried out. "That is a lie! Petyr loves me, he wouldn't harm me. I found the poison myself, I did it alone, it has nothing to do with him!"
The hall instantly fell into a clamor as the nobles lowered their heads and whispered to one another.
Only then did Lysa realize she had let the truth slip. In her subconscious desire to protect Petyr, she had taken the responsibility upon herself, and her face instantly turned deathly pale. She opened her mouth, wanting to take back what she just said, but didn't know how to speak.
Viserys narrowed his eyes slightly. During his journey to the Wall, he had gained inspiration from the Psychic power interference of the Greenseer and developed a crude mental influence technique. It didn't directly control others' thoughts but could subtly guide them to speak the truth when they were emotionally agitated.
He had already applied this influence to Lysa when she entered, and the effect was better than he had expected.
"You admitted it." Viserys's voice carried a chill. "You admitted to poisoning your husband."
"I... I didn't mean that," Lysa said incoherently. "I meant if, but it really wasn't me..."
"Then where did the poison come from?" Yohn Royce seized the opportunity to press her. "You said you found it yourself? Where did you find it? What poison? How was it administered?"
A string of questions caused Lysa to completely break down. Viserys was still influencing her, and she muttered softly, "Petyr said this poison leaves no trace. He said Jon discovered Joffrey's secret and had to die. He said he would marry me, make Robert the Lord, and let me be the true Mistress of the Vale."
Every word was like a heavy hammer striking the hearts of the nobles present who supported House Arryn.
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