The last time Ross was in the Vale, she had been fifteen. She, Brandon, Lyanna and Benjen were travelling to meet Ned and Robert, before continuing on to Lord Whent's great tourney. It had been spring - a false spring perhaps, but none of them knew that then - and the ice on the road was melting, trees and flowers starting to bloom, a fresh breeze in the air.

Now it was autumn, and apart from a few days of sunshine after leaving King's Landing, the weather worsened the further north they got. Whilst Sansa was simply glad to be out of the city for the first time in almost two years, Ross did not enjoy the journey. Although Ser Davos was one of the best sailors in the Seven Kingdoms, she spent much of the time clinging to the rail with white knuckles as the ship lurched in the steel-grey waves. Dacey was not enthused by the sea journey either, and both of them were more than relieved when their feet were on dry land again in Gulltown.

Their party of fifteen travelled by horse through the mountains. Ross was struck by the beauty of the snow-capped peaks, that rose impossibly high in all directions, fir-forests and grassy plains growing beneath craggy rocks, icy rivers cutting through valleys like surging silver knifes, all under a sky that seemed to go on forever. The chill in the air had her feeling a sharp stab of longing for home.

Though beautiful, the journey could be treacherous. They were high enough to often be riding through a low-lying cloud, which could cause anything from a small amount of mist, to being unable to see her own horse's neck through the thick cloud.

"You'd think the main road between the Eyrie and Gulltown would be more passable," She remarked to Ser Davos, who chuckled in agreement.

Ross liked the man who had been Stannis' most trusted friend. Ser Davos was down-to-earth, intelligent and trustworthy, despite being a smuggler in days past. Dacey took everything in her stride, as ever, and remained cheerful company throughout. Cold like this was nothing to Northmen, as she and the guards joked to the shivering Southerners. Ross was expecting a litany of complaints from Sansa, but none came. The girl rode huddled in furs, and cuddled up to Lady every night, but didn't whine about being cold once, though she did politely enquire how much longer they had left every now and again.

The only castle on their route to the Eyrie was Ironoaks, seat of House Waynwood, which lay beside a great lake. Its ruler, Lady Anya, had greying-brown hair and crows feet around her eyes, but welcomed them in a stern, courteous manner. Two of her three adult sons were in attendance, and pleased Ser Davos by not scorning his low birth like many nobles did. Lady Anya's grandson, Ser Roland Waynwood, seemed taken with Dacey, who found the whole thing amusing, but remarked to Ross he was 'good looking enough, I suppose'. Mormont women were not concerned about keeping their maidenhead until marriage, and Ross suspected her friend would have a visitor to her chambers that night.

Elbert Arryn, nephew of the late Lord Jon, was also present, unexpectedly. Ross had met him before; he had been the youngest of the group who had ridden to King's Landing at Brandon's side just before the Rebellion. As he was only five-and-ten at the time, Aerys had not cared enough to murder him like the others, leaving him to languish in a dungeon. Despite the miracle of surviving the Mad King, and his weakened state, Elbert had been prepared to go running off to Dorne with Ned after the city had fallen. Ross had talked him out of it, and he had later thanked her; every man of that party save Ned and Howland Reed had died at the Tower of Joy.

Evidently that gratitude still held true, for Elbert greeted her with a warm smile.

"It is good to see you again, Lady Rosennis. Sadly under such unfortunate circumstances - I mourned for your brother's unjust death,"

They all dined together that night, and the longer Ross was there the more she was certain that Elbert's presence at the time of their visit had not been an accident. Despite the warm welcome, he looked like a man under a lot of pressure.

"What brings you to Ironoaks, my lord?" She asked after the first course had been served. "Your seat is the Gates of the Moon, no?"

At her question, Lady Waynwood shot a pointed look at Elbert, who hesitated, then nodded. A wave of the lady's hand, and the servants left.

The man gave a rueful smile at Ross' raised eyebrow.

"I know that you are not one for dancing around the truth, my lady," He said. "So I will tell you straight. None of the lords of the Vale were happy when Lady Lysa insisted on remaining neutral. We wanted to aid our old allies, the Tullys and Starks, but the woman would not move an inch,"

Lady Anya snorted derisively. "Silly girl,"

"The problem worsened with Petyr Baelish's arrival," Elbert continued. "Lysa married him immediately and appointed him Lord Regent for her son without consulting anyone. He was not a popular choice - after my uncle died, it was expected that I was to be Regent to young Robert. My uncle explicitly asked his wife to make it so, however since his death, she has shunned me. As his wishes were never in writing, there is little we can do. But Baelish is a step too far. Myself, Lady Waynwood, and several others, are on the verge of coming to an agreement to oust him from the Eyrie. We were planning to write to King Stannis, only to hear of his tragic death - it is Loreon Storm who is regent now, and in truth, we know little of him,"

"Fortunate that we arrived when we did, then," Davos said with a hint of wryness.

Ross agreed with the sentiment, but they obviously wanted something from her. "You want to be Lord Protector of the Vale," She said. "Fine. If you swear allegiance to Queen Shireen, I will write to Lord Storm and make it so. Then you can do what you like with Baelish. King's Landing cares little for him. Is that correct, Ser Davos?"

The man looked momentarily startled at being consulted on such matters by a member of a great house that wasn't Stannis, but quickly pulled himself together. After all, he was here as the official representative of the Baratheons; Ross was only officially there to add prestige.

"Yes, my lady," He said. "Lord Storm wishes to see the Vale in strong and stable hands for the coming winter. Petyr Baelish's presence here has clearly caused unrest. And given what you say about Lady Lysa overriding the late Lord Arryn's wishes, the position is rightfully yours,"

"Well said," Lady Anya nodded, having taken a while to warm up to the commonborn knight. "So we are all in agreement that Baelish must go. And Lysa's influence on the young Lord Arryn must be diminished, too. The boy is a lord, for Seven's sake, not an infant to be coddled,"

"We can make arrangements for Lysa," Ross said, knowing Loreon would already have options for another marriage in mind. "Perhaps the boy could be fostered? Here perhaps, or with the Royce's. That would toughen him up, certainly. Unless you wished to keep him with you, my lord?" She raised an eyebrow at Elbert.

"Malicious rumours are spread easily," The man shook his head. "Never mind that the boy has been sickly his whole life, people will start to say that I'm poisoning him to gain the Eyrie for myself. Gods forbid he dies under my care,"

It was a fair point.

By the time the evening was out, it was agreed that the King's Landing party would head up to the Eyrie alone. Meanwhile, Elbert would gather a force of the Vale lords that would support him, which would take a few weeks. Baelish would suspect something, but wouldn't know exactly what. And while she waited, Ross could gain a better idea about what the situation was up in the Eyrie.

Whilst Dacey slipped away with the handsome young Waynwood, Ross went to bed alone after bidding goodnight to Sansa and Davos. She couldn't sleep after an hour of trying, so slipped out of bed in her nightgown, bare feet cold on the stone floor. The view from the window was truly beautiful. Moonlight glinted off the smooth, inky surface of the lake, the hulking shapes of the mountains looming out of the darkness beyond it. The night was clear, and the stars were bright against the black sky. The same stars as back home. She thought of Winterfell, now a burnt-out shell, and could have wept.

She didn't, of course. It took more than that for Rosennis Stark to cry, no matter how thoughts of home brought up thoughts of Lya, Brandon, Ned, her father, thought she tried to ruthlessly suppress day-to-day. If she let the tears start to fall, they might not ever stop.

*

The enormous shape of the Giant's Lance looming above them was daunting, to say the least. After Elbert saw them off from the Gates of the Moon at dawn, the path to the first waycastle, Stone, was a narrow goat's track, steep but surrounded by forest; not especially challenging, although it took half a day. Here they met Mya, Robert's first bastard, according to Ned. The girl was around twenty, and good company, though insisted they leave the horses here - the direwolf too, to Sansa's dismay - and continue on small but sturdy mules.

As they began to climb, Ross could understand why. The next waycastle was Snow, only a single tower and wooden keep, but the path to it was even steeper and narrower than before. Horses would have struggled, but the surefooted mountain mules made the climb easily. It would be near impossible for an invading army to take the Eyrie by force; though a siege would be extremely effective.

Though she had never been afraid of heights - many falls off of huge horses as a child had beaten it out of her - the climb to the final waycastle, Sky, made her stomach clench. The path over the ridge was treacherous, exposed to the mountain winds on both sides, the steps cracked and uneven. As the mules carried them across, Sansa's eyes were firmly shut, Davos was muttering prayers to the Seven under his breath and even Dacey gritted her teeth. Plenty more curses and prayers came from the guards behind them.

Sky was little more than a crescent-shaped wall against the mountain, with a cavern carved into the rock, where left the mules in stables inside. Ross was wondering how they were to get up to the castle, six hundred feet above them, when she saw the handholds cut into the face of the mountain.

"You've got to be joking," Dacey gaped at Mya.

The girl's unapologetic grin made her look even more like Robert. Ross idly wondered if she knew who her late father was.

"Surely you don't mean for us to climb that," Davos was more restrained but not at all looking forward to the prospect.

"We send a basket up on a rope with supplies," The bastard girl shrugged. "Many people go up that way. Your mother did so, my lady," She nodded at Sansa.

Gods sake. If Catelyn went up in the basket, that meant Ross would have to climb.

"If you want to go up with the sacks of turnips and beets, Sansa, I'll join you," Dacey grinned. "I'd rather fight the Kingslayer in single combat than try and climb that,"

So would I.

Sansa looked relieved she wouldn't be the weak link, nodding hastily.

"I'm not sure if my pride can take going up in a basket," Davos said with a grimace, glancing at Ross. "Surely you're bold enough to climb too, my lady,"

She laughed, with a touch of hysteria. "After you, Ser,"

Sansa and Dacey reached the top first in the basket, of course, joined by three of the more fearful guards. The rest chose to climb, particularly after Ross said she would, not wanting to be shown up by a woman. The climb was harrowing, to say the least, but no one fell to their deaths, and they were received by the maester in what Mya informed them was the Crescent Chamber.

The fire was roaring and several maids handed around refreshments, hot wine, bread and salt. A flight of steep spiral stairs took them up to a long arcade decorated with tapestries, at the end of which was the Lord's Solar. Maester Coleman led them inside, where they were met by Petyr Baelish, who had taken the rooms for himself, and his now-wife, Lady Lysa.

"Ser Davos, Lady Rosennis," Baelish's smile was wide and welcoming. "And Lady Sansa, it's a pleasure as always. All of you, welcome to the Eyrie,"

Everyone's friend. That's who Littlefinger had been in King's Landing. Humble, helpful, brilliant with money but not highborn enough to be a threat. Slightly irritating, which only added to the impression of innocence. Looking at the man now, Ross could not help but think the whole thing was dreadfully sinister.

"My thanks, my lord," She replied neutrally. "And to you, Lady Lysa," She glanced at the red-haired woman stood beside him; or rather, clung to his arm.

Lysa's smile was a lot less convincing than Baelish's. "It will be so nice having guests in the Eyrie," She said in a simpering tone. "It gets lonely up here at times. So sweet that you brought my dear niece,"

She turned to Sansa, who curtseyed flawlessly.

"A pleasure to meet you at last, my lady,"

"Call me Aunt Lysa, dear," She said. "You look so much like Cat," Despite the kind words, there was a definite edge to her tone.

After the obligatory greetings and an invitation to dine with them that night, Lysa had a maid show them all to their quarters. The guards were given a place in the barracks, whilst Davos, Sansa, Dacey and Ross all had their own chambers in one of the towers. The castle was not a large one, but there were so few people that most of the rooms were empty. They could not fault the chambers they were assigned; large and spacious despite being in a tower, richly decorated and each with a breathtaking view across the Vale.

The sun was just setting over the mountains - it had taken the entire day to climb up to the castle - and the sky was streaked with shades of orange, red and pink. Ross used the last hour or so of light to explore the castle, with Dacey at her side. Ned had always said it was a beautiful place. Seven elegant towers built of white stone surrounded a carefully cultivated garden. One of the maids, Gretchel, had told her that the garden was meant as a godswood, only no weirwood would take root to the soil.

"It really is empty," Dacey observed.

She wasn't wrong. Aside from the maester and the three maids who had welcomed them, the only other inhabitants of the Eyrie Ross had seen were the two squires of Lord Robert - why that sickly boy needed one squire let alone two was beyond her - a jester, the gaoler and an irritating singer called Marillion who had pestered her enough that she'd had to snap at him. There were guards of course, but only a dozen or so, along with several more grizzled men-at-arms in service to Littlefinger. Even in such a small castle, that was barely anyone.

"There were more here in Lord Jon's day, before he became Hand," The elderly maid explained. "We had household knights, a master-at-arms, a steward. Lots more servants too. And of course young Lord Robert and Ned. Oh, I did weep to hear of both their deaths, so tragic too," She then remembered Ross' presence and lowered her eyes. "Beg pardons, milady. Didn't meant to speak out of turn,"

"No matter,"

Ross brushed over it, though her heart ached with a fresh wave of grief. She imagined Ned as a boy running through these halls and laughing, perhaps followed by a boisterous young Robert with a wooden sword. A lump rose in her throat and she quickly moved on, sweeping further into the garden on the pretence of looking at a statue.

*

Dinner that night in the Lower Hall was a painful affair. Not that Ross had expected anything less.

Lysa was all over Baelish in a way that everyone else found perfectly sickening, and acting overly sweet towards Sansa, often making veiled jabs and passive aggressive remarks about her mother. Littlefinger was on form too, doing his court act, making jests that few people laughed at, playing the harmless fool. The boy Robert, Lord of Mountain and Vale - or, as his mother liked to call him, Sweetrobin - threw a different tantrum every ten minutes, throwing his food and making demands of the servants and his mother. Lysa indulged him in a way that Ross found even more disgusting than how the woman was with her husband.

On top of that, the singer she disliked from earlier, Marillion, had been invited to serenade them through their meal. Apparently he was a new favourite of Lysa's, though Baelish clearly held no love for him. Ross didn't like the way he was looking at Sansa, and shared a look with Dacey, mutually agreeing to keep an eye out.

The singer apologised for his skill on the lute. "I was the best musician in the Seven Kingdoms," He proclaimed woefully. "Until that wretched Imp broke my fingers,"

Ross bit back a smile as he recounted the story, mentally congratulating Tyrion. Marillion's fingers had healed crooked and were no longer as nimble as they may once have been. She found herself wishing it had been the man's neck he had stamped on instead.

In between appeasing her vile child and aggressively petting her husband, Lysa found the time to insult Davos.

"I daresay you have never stayed anywhere so fine, Ser Davos," She said with a little giggle.

Ross felt like kicking her under the table.

"You are very generous, my lady," Davos said, even tempered as ever despite the fact that his rooms in the Red Keep as Master of Ships were somewhat larger. "The Eyrie is a beautiful castle,"

The man was no doubt used to being belittled by highborns, and this was surely not the worst he had dealt with. Even so...

"When the war is over, you are most welcome to visit Winterfell, my lord," Ross said, making sure to use his proper title. He was as much a lord as Petyr Baelish, if not more so. "As Master of Ships, White Harbour may be a suitable location to house some of the Royal Fleet in the future, and Winterfell is but a few days up the White Knife river,"

"Thank you, Lady Rosennis," He smiled, understanding what she was getting at.

"Ah yes, the North," Lysa's smile was clearly trying to imitate Cersei at her most spiteful, but just came across as slightly pathetic. "I've never been. It would be fascinating to visit the land that produces women who fight like the wildlings,"

She tittered at Dacey, whose raised eyebrow and amused look at Ross showed exactly what she thought of court bitchiness.

"Most Northern ladies don't learn to fight, Lady Lysa," The young woman said. "But it's a necessity where I'm from. Bear Island is only a short sail from the Frozen Shore, and wildling raiders often cross the sea to pillage. With the men out hunting or fishing, it falls to the women to protect our homes. Hence I learned to use a sword, as did my four sisters,"

"How odd," Lysa laughed again, vacuous as ever. "Imagine living so far from civilisation. What about you, Lady Rosennis? Did you have to train in the yard with the boys?"

Oh for gods sake.

"I wish I had," Ross said with a false, bright smile. "For then it wouldn't have been Jaime Lannister that killed Aerys Targaryen,"

Dacey snorted into her soup, Davos was fighting a smile and even Sansa's lips twitched. Lysa looked taken aback. The conversation quickly moved on once dear Sweetrobin realised that the room's attention had not been on him for a while and began to throw another tantrum.

Ross excused herself to bed a little sooner than was socially acceptable, not having to make up the headache that was fast developing.

*

For the next couple of weeks, she spent her time with Davos and Littlefinger in the lord's solar. They went through everything that should have been reported to the King this past year, which hadn't been due to Lysa helpfully refusing to reply to any ravens. This included the state of the Vale's armies and finances, why it remained neutral in the war, and its future with regard to trade, alliances and leadership. Between her and Davos, they managed to do so passably at least.

It would be foolish to lie to Baelish more than necessary. Thus, Ross mentioned meeting Lady Waynwood at Ironoaks, and that she had seemed to have taken an unreasonable dislike to him; surely he would make a fine regent, given his long and fruitful service as Master of Coin. Naturally Elbert Arryn would be opposed to another man taking what he saw as his, but Ross implied that so long as Littlefinger swore allegiance to Shireen and didn't hesitate to call up the armies when needed, the crown would support him. Loreon Storm had bigger issues to worry about; so long as the Vale didn't cause trouble, he wasn't concerned who ruled it.

As far as she knew, it worked. Men like Littlefinger might be clever, but still had an ego. The veiled glee in his eyes - no doubt thinking he had gotten one up on them - could not be faked.

She and Davos also tried to drag out the talks as long as possible. Ross claimed to have been extremely ill on the ship from King's Landing, and after being further weakened by the journey from Gulltown, she was only strong enough to meet for a couple of hours each day. It worked, but the downside of this was that Ross had to spend a lot of time in her rooms, 'resting'. She was bored out of her mind, even with the few books that Dacey brought her from the library.

Perhaps it was punishment from the Gods for her lie, but a week after arriving at the Eyrie Ross really did become ill. At first she thought it was food poisoning, as she had vomited immediately after breakfast, but when it happened three days in a row, the symptoms became uncomfortably familiar. The truth washed over her like cold water.

How? She had been so careful, keeping stocked up on her supply of moon tea and drinking at least two cups of it after every time she and Jaime had lain together. Which hadn't even been that often, considering they were in the Red Keep, where the walls had ears and both of them were often busy.

Then she remembered the day she left for the Vale, or more importantly, the night before. Leaving in a hurry, the cup of moon tea on her dresser. Had she drunk it? She couldn't recall, which was discomforting, as that likely meant she had not.

Ross forced herself to put the matter out of her mind, to not curse her own stupidity, to not even contemplate the world of trouble that this could cause for her. At least not yet. Pregnancies were not always successful after all, especially in these earlier stages. She wasn't even entirely sure she was pregnant yet, having not sought out a maester's opinion for obvious reasons.

Besides, there was nothing she could do about it yet, although it may be time for her to start planning a lengthy stay at Winterfell, away from her husband. Or get her hands on some subtle poison to slip into his dinner...

Dacey, who was her almost constant companion when she wasn't in meetings with Littlefinger, was the only one to notice something odd with the amount of times she had to use the privy in the mornings, but didn't mention it. Sansa may have noticed something, but wasn't around her often enough, having been spending a lot of time with Lysa and Sweetrobin. Ross felt for her, she truly did, as each time Sansa returned from seeing her aunt, the more she disliked the woman.

"She resents me because I look like Mother," The girl said when they were taking a walk round the gardens one afternoon, clearly unnerved by Lysa's strange ways. "She's all smiles one minute, but turns at the drop of a hat and says something awful," She hesitated. "Lord Baelish says I look a lot like Mother too. I don't like the way he looks at me, sometimes,"

That immediately put Ross on guard.

"If he's untoward in any way, do let me know," She said lightly, already planning the threats.

Sansa promised she would.

*

The High Hall of the Arryns was usually closed to everyone, even the guests. For this reason, Ross found it odd when she heard a commotion coming from the room as she walked past the back entrance one day on the way back to her chambers. There was music, no doubt Marillion. Had the singer decided to sneak in there alone?

Curious, she moved towards the ajar door, quickening her steps as she heard the sound of a woman screaming. She hesitated at the door, hearing that it was Lysa and Littlefinger in the midst of an argument, but then she heard Sansa's name and flung open the door.

The scene she came across made her freeze for a split second, in sheer shock and horror, before she was sprinting across the room.

The moon door was open, wind howling through the hall, as Lysa stood before it, holding Sansa in front of her, half in and half out. Littlefinger stood there, the most visibly stressed she had ever seen him, trying to talk her down. There was a pounding at the main entrance to the hall, no doubt guards hearing the commotion and trying to get in.

"NO!" Lysa was screaming, barely seeming to recognise Ross' presence. "You can't want her. She's a stupid empty-headed little girl. She doesn't love you the way I have always loved you,"

"What in hells name are you doing?" Ross had never been so suddenly furious. She wanted to wrest the woman away from the door and punch that stupid pink face of hers, but had to restrain herself; she didn't trust that she could do that and not let Sansa fall.

"Perhaps best not to insult the woman dangling your niece over a six-hundred foot drop," Littlefinger said with a strained smile.

Ross ignored him, continuing in a vicious tone. "Lysa, if you kill her, I will have a fifty thousand men at the base of the Eyrie to see you, your son and your precious Petyr shoved out that door after her,"

The woman did not even seem to hear her.

Littlefinger turned to see Ross and grimaced, placing a finger to his lips and shot her a look that said 'let me handle it'. She was about to argue, but realised her blunt manner and seething fury were not the best tools for the delicate job. Unfortunately, she had to trust Petyr Baelish.

Tears ran down Lysa's puffy red face as she continued to ramble on. Ross could only focus on her niece's terrified eyes, her heart in her mouth as she paced up and down, hating the fact that she had to put her trust in Littlefinger. Nausea was rising in her throat again, but she carefully swallowed the feeling down. Now really wasn't the time.

"I gave you my maiden's gift. I would have given you a son too, but they murdered him with moon tea. I never knew, I only drank what Father gave me..."

"That's past and done, Lysa. Lord Hoster's dead, and his old maester as well." Littlefinger moved closer. "Have you been at the wine again? You ought not to talk so much. We don't want Sansa to know more than she should, do we? Or Marillion and Lady Bolton?"

"Cat never gave you anything," Lysa ignored him. "It was me who got you your first post, who made Jon bring you to court so we could be close to one another. You promised me you would never forget that,"

"Nor have I. We're together, just as you always wanted, just as we always planned. Just let go of Sansa's hair..."

"I won't! I saw you kissing in the garden,"

What? Ross narrowed her eyes at Baelish's back. There would be a lot of talk to be had later. Or preferably, none at all; after she pushed Lysa out the moon door herself, her dear husband was following.

Lysa continued. "She's just like her mother. Catelyn kissed you in the Godswood, but she never meant it. Why did you love her best?"

Ross had never seen anything so terrifying that was equally as pathetic.

"I am here, love," Baelish took another step. "All you need to do is take my hand, come on." He held it out to her. "There's no cause for all these tears,"

"Tears, tears, tears," She sobbed hysterically. "No need for tears... but that's not what you said in King's Landing. You told me to put the tears in Jon's wine, and I did,"

Gods. Oh Gods. It was him, all along. Baelish killed Jon Arryn, not Cersei. It was his fault that Ned had gone south, his fault her brother had died and the war had started. Ross could tear him apart with her bare hands; Sansa being dangled over a mountain was perhaps the only situation she would hold back her anger.

Littlefinger didn't look at her but froze for a second, and she was suddenly aware that she was very much in danger for hearing that. She felt for the dagger ever-present in her skirts, as Lysa continued.

"For Robert, and for us! And I wrote Catelyn and told her the Lannisters had killed my lord husband, just as you said,"

Ross would happily claw that woman's face off there and then. Your own sister, you pitiful, traitorous bitch. "

Lysa rambled on. "That was so clever... you were always clever. Why did you kiss her? Why? We're together now after so long, why would you want to kiss herrrrrr?"

"Lysa," Petyr sighed. "After all the storms we've suffered, you should trust me better. I swear, I shall never leave your side again, for as long as we both shall live,"

"Truly?" She asked, weeping. "Oh, truly?"

"Truly. Now come give me a kiss,"

Lysa threw herself into Littlefinger's arms, sobbing. As they hugged, Sansa crawled from the Moon Door, and Ross hurried towards her, sinking to her knees to embrace the shaking girl, who clung to her like a lifeline. Her own heart was pounding, and she could feel Sansa's was too. Her right shoe was missing. It must have fallen. Ned's daughter could have just died right in front of her.

"Auntie," Her breaths came in quick and shallow, and she could barely get her words out.

"Shh," Ross held her close, not willing to admit how scared she had been. "Shh, you're safe, you're fine,"

She was reassuring herself as much as her niece. Her other hand was closing around the dagger in her skirts, preparing to drag Sansa to her feet and run, once their legs started to work again. Baelish was a small man, who didn't wear a sword; Brandon had beaten him easily. Ross had trained with Jaime, Dacey, Brienne, all much bigger than her, stronger, better.

"My sweet silly jealous wife," Littlefinger was kissing Lysa lightly, chuckling. "I've only loved one woman, I promise you,"

The woman smiled tremulously. "Only one? Oh, Petyr, do you swear it? Only one?"

"Only Cat,"

He gave her a short, sharp shove.

Lysa stumbled backward, her feet slipping, and then she was gone. She never even screamed.

It happened so fast, that Ross' mind struggled to catch up. Sansa yelped in surprise, and Ross scrambled to her feet at once but stood stock still, too shocked to make a sound.

For a long moment there was no sound but the wind.

"You... you..." Marillion gasped.

She had forgotten he was even here. Sansa slowly stood, though stuck close to Ross. The guards were shouting outside the door, pounding with the butts of their heavy spears.

"You're not hurt?" Littlefinger turned to Sansa, who shook her head.

He then looked at Ross, unsmiling, and for a split second she knew he was considering it. Considering telling the guards that she had done it, blaming her for Lysa's death. It would be easier for him, of course, considering what she now knew.

"Loreon Storm will know something's wrong," She said lowly. "At the very least, I wouldn't murder Lysa for no good reason. He doesn't trust you. He trusts me,"

He considered it. "I know about your children, Renan and Morganna. I know about the Kingslayer. And I know about what is currently growing in your belly," He smiled apologetically, with a significant glance down at her stomach which made it churn even more.

Sansa gave a small gasp, clearly catching on. Ross missed the days the girl was vacant and naive.

Baelish continued. "I normally blackmail with much more finesse than this - which is almost embarrassingly crass - but given the circumstances... keep quiet, hm?"

Son of a - She still felt like ripping him in half, even more so now. If anyone deserved a one-way trip down into the dungeons of the Dreadfort it was Petyr Baelish. But if this would stop him causing her a whole lot of trouble, so be it. She had dirt on him too. Just as bad, if not worse.

Marillion was still blustering from across the room. Ross looked at the singer, who was unaware of the danger he was in, then back at Littlefinger.

"Fine,"

His smile grew. "Let my guards in," He said to Sansa. "Quick now, there's no time to lose. This singer's killed my lady wife,"

*

The Lords Declarant ascending the Giant's Lance three weeks after Ross arrived at the Eyrie, their displeasure only having mounted now Lady Lysa was dead and Littlefinger was sole Regent and guardian of Lord Robert. Marillion had been blamed for the death of Lysa and placed in the Sky Cells; Ross didn't even want to know what Baelish had said to him to make him stay quiet about his innocence.

Elbert Arryn had managed to pull together a great number of powerful people; Yohn Royce, Anya Waynwood, Gilwood Hunter, Horton Redfort, Benedar Belmore, Symond Templeton, along with Ser Lyn Corbray. All of them had brought a thousand men, gathered at the Gates of the Moon.

"How is your dear Morganna these days," Baelish asked Ross with a smile as they waited in the lord's solar for the visitors to be brought up. "It's been so long since I saw her in King's Landing. You must be proud of her - her beauty will surely rival the dowager Queen's, in time,"

In other words; 'move against me in this and I'll tell them everything'. It wasn't exactly a subtle reminder, but he seemed to have given up being subtle with her.

"If you tell them everything then so will I," She replied, not bothering to mask the threat either. "Trust that I don't want my daughter shamed and likely killed in order to reveal the murderer of two people I didn't particularly care about,"

He laughed lightly at that, though didn't speak to her again.

It was incredibly frustrating, having knowledge that could destroy him but being unable to use it. They were at as much of a stalemate as Lord Tywin and Robb were in the west. So for now she let him think he had won. But if he thought she was going to stand by and do nothing whilst one of the most untrustworthy people in the Seven Kingdoms knew her darkest secret, he was sorely mistaken.

That day she had made a point of being stuck to him like a limpet, which he no doubt thought was an attempt to make sure he couldn't discredit her in secret to one of the lords. In fact, it was simply so she didn't arouse his suspicion by appearing unconcerned. Littlefinger had grown rather comfortable in the knowledge that Starks were exactly what they appeared, after dealing with Ned and Brandon. Whilst he knew Ross disliked him, he believed she was willing to go along with their mutually beneficial agreement of not spilling each other's secrets.

He did not know that she had come to the Eyrie with the intention of seeing him ousted from power, and did not know that she had a plan of her own.

A week earlier, Ross had had one of her guards surreptitiously pass Mya Stone a note under the guise of flirting, along with the large sum of three gold dragons for her silence. She was confident that Mya couldn't read, and wanted her to give the note to Elbert Arryn or Yohn Royce as the Lords Declarant made their way up the mountain, where Littlefinger's spies would struggle to reach.

The message stated the truth, or most of it at least, giving the lords an ironclad reason to remove Petyr Baelish from power. Lysa had thrown a jealous fit after seeing Littlefinger forcibly kiss Sansa, and tried to throw her out the Moon Door; Littlefinger had stopped her doing so, but hadn't been able to keep his wife from revealing the truth about what happened to Jon Arryn. He had then murdered Lysa, before threatening to spread false rumours about Ross' children's parentage and even implying that he would hurt Sansa if she didn't keep quiet.

The only trouble now was the moment he was confronted about his crimes, Baelish would surely know it was her who had told them and would not hesitate in spilling her own secrets. She hoped that remark in the letter about false rumours would be enough to convince the lords he was talking rubbish, but somehow doubted it. The rumours existed already.

The obvious solution would be to kill him. But she had eaten food from his table and couldn't do so without breaking guest right, same for all of her guards. She would have to settle for pushing for Elbert to execute him as soon as possible, whilst hoping none of lords cared enough to discuss what he said about her.

The group of lords, and Lady Anya, entered the solar having refused the bread and salt offered to them. All faces were stony, and though Littlefinger acted unconcerned, he could no doubt tell that they would not be swayed as easily as he expected.

Everyone was just taking their seats when Ross felt a familiar churning in her stomach. Seven hells, of all the moments. Given it was early evening, she hadn't expected to feel any sickness, and of course it chose now to reappear. She tried carefully swallowing, taking breaths, but then it became too much to bear.

"Excuse me a moment, my lords," She stepped away from the table, not elaborating on her departure as she hurried from the room to the nearest privy, hoping against hope no one did anything stupid while she was gone. Her not being in the room could be disastrous on the blackmail front, but she figured it would be worse to vomit on the table in front of them all.

It took longer than usual to empty her stomach, more continuing to come up, and Ross began to wonder if Littlefinger had slipped her something in her food to get her out of the room. She wouldn't put it past him. Either way, it was a great inconvenience and she was in a hurry to return as soon as possible.

It was half an hour before she made it back to the solar, and in that time the meeting seemed to have devolved into chaos. Littlefinger was on his feet, as was Yohn Royce, who looked furious. Gods, they'd already confronted him about killing Jon Arryn.

"Here she is," Royce said, jabbing a finger her way. "I had it from Lady Bolton herself that you're guilty, never mind all that shit that's been coming out of your mouth for the past half hour. You killed Lady Lysa, not to mention manipulated her into murdering Lord Arryn! Don't even try and deny it,"

"You had it from Lady Bolton?" Baelish's mocking smile was still in place even though he realised he was backed into a corner; a dangerous place for him to be, for all of them. "I hate to do this, I really do," He shook his head. "You all have dark little secrets of your own. Lord Redfort, for instance. Aren't you ashamed, forcing your son to marry the respectable Lady Royce whilst you know he truly desires dear Mya Stone and continues with her on the side?"

Lord Royce shot a glare at Redfort, who flushed.

Littlefinger wasn't done. "Lord Gilwood too - have you spoken to your beloved brother recently? After all, you're well aware that he plotted to kill your father, and you turned a blind eye. Never mind that he's now plotting to kill you too,"

Everyone looked at the man in question accusingly, as he gaped like a fish, stuttering his unconvincing denial but looking like he wanted to ask Baelish more about his brother's plans.

"Lady Waynwood, did you reveal to the rest of the Lords Declarant that you were keeping your options open? That you were entertaining the idea of supporting my claim to the Vale and betrothing your ward Harry the Heir to a girl of my choosing, in exchange for me paying off some of your money debts?"

"That was weeks ago," Lady Anya paled, glancing at the others. "I scarcely even considered it,"

"Sers Corbray and Templeton, Lord Belmore" Petyr smiled sickeningly. "And of course dear Elbert, the darling of the Vale. I'll leave yours for later, in case more incentive is needed. That goes for all of you. Those secrets are not the worst I could reveal," His beady eyes flickered round the room, making eye contact with each of them.

"Ignore him," Ross cut across the silence cast over the room. "I'll be willing to forget every single lie I've heard in this room, once Baelish is removed," She raised an eyebrow, glancing round the room.

The lords nodded abashedly. None of them were lies, of course, but for the sake of everyone's pride, they could pretend. Blackmail was only as effective as one made it.

"Lady Bolton," Littlefinger chuckled. "Would they follow you if they knew the truth about what you had done? You truly are the worst of them. Where do I even begin? The long years as the Kingslayer's whore? Bearing not one of his bastard children, nor even two, but now three? Come on, Ross - that is what he calls you, isn't it? - I thought you were better than that, being such an honest and honourable Stark,"

"Like I said," She spoke through gritted teeth, daring any of the lords present to say a word. "We can forget every poisonous word out of his mouth and lock him in the Sky Cells. His words only have power if we believe them,"

"A fine idea, Lady Bolton," Elbert stepped in with a smile. "I'm sure the Arryn household guards would only be too happy to assist, along with your own?"

She nodded, but Baelish wasn't finished.

"You'll have to give me a trial, you know,"

"And have you spill even more secrets, or blackmail your way to freedom?" Elbert snorted derisively. "I believe the word of..." He glanced around. "Eleven lords, ladies and knights is enough,"

"Then I'll demand a trial by combat," He laughed, shaking his head. "The best fighter can be bought, for the right price,"

"You just claimed I've spent years as the Kingslayer's whore," Ross said flatly. "Jaime Lannister has currently been imprisoned at Riverrun for months - if what you claim is true, I'm sure he'd jump at the chance to travel to the Vale and fight whichever sellsword you can come up with,"

Lord Royce laughed at that. "I say we forget a trial, forget the Sky Cells and just throw him right out the Moon Door,"

There was a murmur of agreement around the room.

"A Stark letting a man die without trial?" Littlefinger was still smiling. "You are a surprise, my lady. Did all that time spent underneath the Mad King warp your mind that much?"

He had scarcely finished the sentence before Ross had stepped forward and grabbed him by the hair, slapping him sharply across the face with her free hand. She was the same height as he was, perhaps an inch taller, and everyone was surprised at how fast she'd moved. And the indignity of subjecting a man to such a gesture.

"If it wasn't for guest right, I'd shove you out of the Moon Door myself and laugh at the bloody smear on the rocks," She hissed, much to the further shock of everyone else in the room but Dacey. "All people will remember you as is the scheming little social climber who made it into the Eyrie by whoring himself out to Lady Lysa, then murdered her and played at ruling for a few weeks,"

Baelish grew a truly ugly look in his eye then, dropping all of his usual farce as he wrenched away from her; a chunk of hair was left in her grip. "You know," He said. "You remind more of your brother Brandon than dear Ned. I lost to that hateful man, but will not lose to his ugly bitch of a sister,"

She saw the silver flash of his hidden dagger just in time, as Dacey cried out in warning, and managed to turn so it caught her forearm instead. He went for my stomach, she realised. She saw him smile as pain lanced up her left arm and blood began to drip down her sleeve. That was her mind made up.

He was still smiling when her dagger sunk deep between his ribs.

Baelish wasn't expecting her to be armed, as his eyes bulged in surprise. At first no one noticed. Then everyone noticed at once, as he gave a choked gasp and stopped talking, smile faltering and his knife falling to the floor with a clatter. There were several exclamations of shock from the lords but Ross barely heard them. She looked Baelish in the eye, pushing the blade deeper. He still managed to force that mocking smile on his face, even as he sank to his knees, wincing at the pain as his breath came in uneven pants. She moved with him, leaving the knife in, blood running down the hand that refused to let go.

He tried to speak but she twisted the blade, and his eyes rolled back into his head. Ross let go of the knife, letting him fall backwards, dead.

More gasps from the room. Honestly, most of the men were seasoned soldiers, they were only so shocked because it was a lady doing the killing . She just stared down at the dead body of Petyr Baelish, her hands and dress covered in his blood. Sansa was stood by the wall, eyes wide but doing her best to control her face. Good girl.

"My lady," A shocked Lord Redfort stepped forward. "That was - was that really - ?"

Necessary? Proper? Her place to do?

"He tried to kill me first," Ross stood, and everyone listened mutely. She must've been a right sight in her grey dress, dripping blood and holding a knife next to a bloody corpse. "That makes all guest right void. Besides, now he's gone he can't spread any more lies. Object if you want to, but what's done is done. Unless anyone's going to miss him?" She raised an eyebrow.

Lady Waynwood smirked, Yohn Royce chuckled incredulously and Elbert Arryn openly laughed.

"You clearly have the Wolfblood like your brother Brandon, my lady," He said. "I for one am certainly grateful Baelish gave us a convenient way to get rid of him without a trial, although would rather he hadn't wounded you in the process,"

"He was aiming to kill," Ross said darkly. "It was probably just out of spite, seeing as he knew he was cornered. I suppose that makes you Lord Protector of the Vale?"

All the lords voiced their agreement.

*

Killing Littlefinger was all well and good, and the situation in the Vale was neatly wrapped up with Elbert Arryn as Regent and young Robert fostering with Yohn Royce, but Ross would've cared a lot more had her entire being not been gripped with a pressing fear and dread for her child.

She knew that Roose Bolton held Harrenhal. All the lords of Westeros would be descending on that castle. At some point, her daughter Morganna would have to see her supposed father again. She had not anticipated the fact that Jaime and half his family would be there too, as she had found out from the letter from King's Landing.

It was foolish, but Ross had clung onto the hope that Roose Bolton would never see a Lannister in the flesh, particularly not Jaime. That was the only situation where she could perhaps have got away with her youngest daughter looking almost exactly like him. She had already run through a list of potential houses to foster Morganna with, betroth her to, just so he wouldn't spend more time near her, but that was a hopeless solution from a panicking woman.

Bolton wasn't a stupid or unobservant man, far from it. He was cold, ruthless and terribly cruel. She had tried to kill him once before when he had threatened separating her from her child, and would not hesitate to actually do the deed properly if he posed any threat to another. That was looking more and more like the one option left to her. Roose wouldn't publicly shame the Bolton name, if he found out. But he would arrange for a tragic accident to befall both of them, or they would mysteriously disappear and never make it out of the bowels of the Dreadfort alive.

It was for this reason that she left Davos and Sansa behind in the Vale - Davos was to leave the day after to be in King's Landing with Shireen, and she just wanted Sansa to be safe - and made haste to Harrenhal, hoping to get there before Loreon led her daughter into the arms of the man who would happily see her flayed if he knew the truth.

*

Edited November 2024 

Another quick update! What did you think? I had plans to drag out the whole Ross in the Vale story a little longer and into multiple chapters, but struggled to get the pacing right so had to cut it down a little. I also found that Littlefinger is a very hard character to write, particularly as I have him backed into a corner here that he never was in the books.

The section of text where Lysa dies has dialogue lifted directly from A Storm of Swords, so all credit to GRRM for that. I didn't want to just do a rehash of the whole scene (which is brilliant as it is), so cut as much as I could and have made it clear down here that I did not write that part. If there are any copyright issues with this, let me know and I can alter or remove it.

Next chapter - Harrenhal. 

Thanks for reading/commenting!