Harrenhal

Edwyn gave a sly smile. "Perhaps if your lordship cared enough safety and quick passage may be bought." he slopped up some more stew. "We took Riverrun for the King, and what where you up to? Gods only know. He gestured with his fork to the small Pretender. "Don't get to uppity if you know what's good for you, Baelish. You can't hold the Riverlands without House Frey."

"House Frey gives its oath." He said mechanically "and we will continue to be the ones actual doing the work while you claim the credit."

As Frey leaves to return to the Twins, he and his riders make their way around the God's Eye. It was a miserable day, pouring with rain, and a fog had set in around the lake. The Freys could barely see in front of their noses, plodding back to the Twins. The Brothehood Without Banners had made them wary, jumping at shadows. And they were right to be. Hooves thundered on all sides, horsemen with swords and axes charging at them from the front, flanks and rear as they struggled to get into formation. They were well armed and trained, with one among their number charging straight for Ser Frey himself.

Frey found himself quickly outnumbered, his men being quickly surrounded and cut down by a vastly numerically superior force. Edwyn's sword grazed the man's side, but he rode after him, as did a number of other riders. Ser Frey's horse buckled as it was speared through the legs, Edwyn being thrown from the saddle to the dirt below. A sickening crack was heard as the heir to the Twins hit the ground, killed instantly by a broken neck. None would survive to report back to the Lord Walder, nor even to bury their lord as he rotted by the wayside.

A raven arrives from Ravenhall Tree, bearing a missive from Lord Blackwood to Lord Baelish. It seemed that the Freys were up to no good as they forced his vassal, House Paege, to levy men for whatever purpose. Blackwood states that he is raising his troops and marching upon Fairmarket to learn more from his vassal.

Baelish returned to his keep, somewhat in sour mood, this time with large baggage and large household. With his hold on the Vale weakened beyond recognition and Sansa solidly established as the Lady of the Eyrie he had little choice but to put other plans in motion, schemes within schemes as some were ruined and others turned to be a dead end. Harrold, no matter how utterly useless he was, has gained an upper hand just by virtue of his mother's blood. Stannis, that he knew, was not friend of his and Petyr had been fortunate to escape with his own life and wealth intact. His contacts in the Vale would remain but the Riverlands were an unruly place, with Tully hardly having a strong hold over the affairs, one that could weaken with certain manouvers and the right words written in parchment. Thus, with the keep abandoned by Stannis to wage war around the capital Baelish raised banners over his castle and held court in Harrenhal, apparently to stay, for the time being.

One morning, he penned a polite and corteous invitation to Lord Jonos Bracken, the Lord of Stonehedge, for some carousing in Harrenhal itself, alongside several other bannermen of Baelish in the God's Eye. Word was also sent to several others, including the Vances, of both branches, and a score of minor, but no less important lords, like Butterwell or Vypren. Generally speaking, everyone around the Trident and the God's Eye had been called to Baelish's castle with honeyed words and promises.

The fabled prodigality of Baelish is again put to the work, showing everyone his liberality. He adressed everyone by name, even the smallest of lords, trying to look like a sensible liege. And he hosted them all and entertained them, ladies and lords, in the hall of the hundred fireplaces, in the cavernous residence that Harren had built. They feasted with pomp and magnificence, with Baelish sitting the greater lords around him in the raised dais, under a field of a thousand mockingbirds green and silver. Petyr turns to Lord Bracken at the time of the seventh dish of the night.

"Lord Jonos, I've heard you have daughters of age, each prettier than the last"

He said, sipping from a silver glovet emblazoned with his heraldry. The doublet Baelish wore was close-fitting to his slender shape, tailored for him with cloth-of-gold.

"You see, I mourned my beloved Lysa long enough and I realized I'd better move on. I long for a companion of high birth, like your eldest, the fair maiden Barbara"

Baelish smiled and his eyes was neutral, but it was known that Barbara or one of her younger sisters or maybe both or all of them had been defiled by Mountain himself and probably few of his mens. This turned them into ruined commodity, no matter if they were Bracken's only offspring. Sad sorry thing. Not that Baelish cared about them all being deflowered by Clegane or a dozen men-at-arms.