When Mya Stone knocked on the door, Sansa was reading the story of the Falcon Knight to the young lord.
The bastard daughter was wearing riding boots and breeches, the unmistakable scent of horse sweat clinging to her, and straw tangled in her messy hair. Her brow was tightly furrowed. She had been like this for days—what could be troubling her?
"Lady, my lord," Mya said, "Breakfast is ready. Ser Harrold Harry and Lady Alayne are waiting for you."
"Send them away. I don't want to see them," the young lord snapped.
Mya appeared flustered. In the Vale, she was a skilled mule driver, but dealing with lords was completely beyond her.
"Thank you, Mya. If you don't mind, let me speak with Lord Robert alone," Sansa sighed. Her husband had left her here while he went to meet Lady Lysa, accompanied by Bronze Yohn and Lord Horton. Truth be told, she'd rather be with her sister than with Lord Robert.
"I hate that Harry," Robin muttered after Mya left. "He calls me cousin just so he can inherit the Vale when I'm gone. He thinks I don't know, but I do."
"My lord, don't listen to rumors," Sansa replied. "I'm sure Ser Harrold loves you." If the gods were kind, he would also love Jeyne Poole.
"He doesn't love me," Robert said firmly. "He wants my father's castle, nothing more. So he has to pretend."
He seemed to be speaking about himself, Sansa thought, closing her eyes as she imagined her husband as a child.
"Perhaps my husband will find you a wife who will truly love you," Sansa said gently. "One who can tell you stories every day, just like I do."
"Lord Littlefinger wanted Alayne to stay with me," the boy snapped, tossing the storybook aside. "But Harrold took her away! She's not as good as you, but I want my Alayne!"
"Good Robin, you mustn't speak like that. You are Lord of the Eyrie, Warden of the Vale. You should marry a noble lady and have her bear you a son to inherit House Arryn," Sansa comforted. "Perhaps Alayne isn't right for you."
She took the young lord's hand and led him out of the room toward the dining hall.
"I want to go back to the Eyrie!" Lord Robert's lips trembled. "No one can hurt me there. Mother said the Eyrie is impregnable."
"Who would hurt my dear Robin? Your vassals and knights adore you. Your people pray for you day and night." He's scared, Sansa thought. He's afraid when Mother isn't nearby. Her husband had mentioned that Lord Baelish wanted to find a wet nurse for the young lord, but Lady Lysa had refused. She couldn't bear the thought of her son drinking from another woman's breast.
The Vale still held autumn's warmth, its landscape golden and mild, but winter had already wrapped itself tightly around the mountain peaks. Mya had told her of three blizzards that had passed through, and another fierce ice storm that had frozen the castle solid for two weeks. The Eyrie might indeed be impregnable, but the irony was that soon no one would be able to climb up there at all.
The dining hall was sparsely populated. Sansa had spent much time soothing the young lord, while Brienne stood in a corner. Arya was nowhere to be seen—likely out riding with the Smith and the squires.
Through the dining hall window, two knights sparred in the courtyard with blunt practice swords. Their blades collided twice, but each time they slid past, deflected by high shields, until the larger knight was knocked off balance by the force.
From where Sansa sat, she couldn't see the front of his shield, but she could clearly see his opponent's: three crows in flight, each clutching a crimson heart. Three crows and three red hearts.
She immediately knew how the fight would end.
Soon, the large knight lay unconscious on the ground, his helmet askew. Servants hurried to lift his visor, revealing blood streaming from his scalp. If the sword had been sharp, his brain would have spilled out. The final blow, delivered with brutal force, made Sansa turn her head away, shielding the young lord's eyes.
"Do you think if I asked him, Ser Lyn would kill Hardyng for me?" Lord Robert brushed aside Sansa's hand, studying the victor thoughtfully.
"Give him a sack full of gold, and he might."
The voice came from behind her—Jeyne Poole, no, Alayne.
"Everyone in the Vale knows Ser Lyn Corbray is perpetually broke." She sat beside Sansa. "Ser Hardyng's next."
"Robin was only joking." Sansa glanced at Harrold Hardyng, the young heir to the small territory. He was handsome, with sandy hair, blue eyes, and a hooked nose. His posture was straight and strong, his limbs long and well-proportioned. Attendants were helping him into his armor. "Brienne, could you take Robin for a walk? Shall Mya accompany you?"
The clanking of Brienne's armor startled little Robert as she approached. "You're so ugly!" The beauty had no choice but to don her helmet and lower her visor.
"I won't go!" the Young Lord protested.
"When you return, I'll continue the story of the Falcon Knight," Sansa said. "Three... stories?"
"Five stories!"
I want to slap you five times, Sansa felt dizzy and breathless. She dared not imagine what Arya would do to him—five hundred lashes on the backside?
"Five stories then." Sansa conceded. The Young Lord pinched his nose with one hand while tugging Brienne's with the other, marching toward the courtyard.
"Congratulations, Alayne," Sansa finally addressed Jeyne. "Ser Hardyng looks quite handsome."
"Indeed, though he pales in comparison to Lord Lannister," Alayne said. "But I am a bastard. And you are a noble lady. Your husband's father was the wealthiest and most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms."
"Lord Baelish is the richest man in the Vale, and his wife is the most powerful woman in the Vale," Sansa thought. "My husband is the most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms. As his woman. It is an honor to be your friend."
For a moment, Sansa sensed Jeyne seemed to relax.
"Ser Hardyng already has two bastard daughters," Alayne said softly. "But I still like him very much."
"He must like you very much too," Sansa said. "Otherwise, Lord Waynwood wouldn't have agreed to Lord Baelish's proposal, right?"
"House Waynwood is ancient and proud, but not wealthy. My father discovered this when he settled their debts," Jeyne seemed to have no friends in the Vale, and Sansa's arrival stirred her desire to confide. "Of course, Lady Anya would never sell her son for money, but a foster son... especially one with a tarnished reputation. Will he settle down after we marry?"
"Of course." Sansa resolved to lie to comfort her friend. "Perhaps my husband had two bastards before our marriage, but at least he loves me wholeheartedly now."
...
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