Bran heard talk of Moat Cailin, the ancient stronghold the First Men had built at the top of the Neck. He is, she admitted, but my father has never trusted him. Alyssa Arryn had seen her husband, her brothers, and all her children slain, and yet in life she had never shed a tear. I remind you, Tyrion Lannister is my prisoner.
Wear it in silence, or I'll honor you again, Robert vowed. The High Hall of the Arryns was long and austere, with a forbidding coldness to its walls of blue-veined white marble, but the faces around him had been colder by far. Above the Vale, the Eyrie stood high and impregnable, its towers reaching for the sky. Yes he is.
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