Tangling Threads
Twenty Ninth Day of the Second Month 294 AC
Trying to conduct intrigues by the auspices of Bronze Yohn Royce is more likely to end in disaster than success, especially the kind of intrigue you hope to work in the Vale. Of all the Seven Kingdoms you hope the Vale of Arryn could be reduced to disarray for there is no Lord Paramount willing to deal with you nor even a claimant of an ancient line for you to instate. A land filled with stiff-necked knights and even more stubborn tribesmen whom you have sworn to integrate in spite of age old grudges.
The Vale needs to crack...
Fortunately there is a flaw at the very heart of the whole edifice, one that barely needs a gentle tap.
"Lord Bloodraven," you reach out over the constant mental hum barely noticed in the back of your mind, like a song you heard in a dream.
It takes a few moments for him to refocus some part of his attention to the conversation.
"Your Grace."
The plan you lay before him is simple, almost too simple. You would not advise most lords and ladies to do anything as abrupt and desperate as inviting the dissenting bannermen to their seat to arrest them. Lysa Arryn nee Tully has never had the opportunity to reign before and is likely to be feeling desperate given the stakes.
Hopefully she will take Varys' news about assassins to heart, otherwise you might have to stage a failed infiltration and the fewer fingers you have to put on this particular scale the better.
"Lysa was not the most forethoughtful of her siblings, even as a girl," Bloodraven assures you.
"Given what she lived through between Baelish's manipulations and her father's idiocy in trying to correct them I doubt she will act from wisdom in this instance."
"Dare I ask?"
You stare at your desk for a long moment after he had finished recounting the tale he had drawn from an unknowing Littlefinger by magic these past months. He tells you of Lysa's infatuation of Littlefinger, his of Catelyn and the ill-fortuned pregnancy that had arisen when youthful obsession boiled over into darker deeds.
There is no surprise to be had about Baelish's folly and perhaps only a bit more at the fact that Lysa took advantage of his drugged state. But you had imagined Hoster Tully to have more sense, if not heart, than to force moon tea upon his daughter late in her term. That could have killed
her as easily as the babe and it had obviously harmed her for the rest of her life.
And for what? An infant would have only been slightly harder to hide than a miscarriage, he could have sent it away to be raised in obscurity, he could have handed it to Littlefinger and told him that his life depended on never letting the secret past his lips. Instead he had a daughter who hated him and likely herself clinging to a man who would tear the whole world down for greed and spite if he could.
All things told you are glad Littlefinger will not live to see another month pass.
What next?
[] Write in
OOC: Not very substantive, unfortunately. I think we are actually done with the month and I could not do a turn plan at this hour.
