Petyr Baelish led Tywin through Strongsong, then past Snowy Mountains.
The roar of Alyssa's Tears reached them from afar, growing steadily closer.
They stopped before Skyreach. Littlefinger dismounted, tossed his reins to an attendant, and turned to Tywin. "Lord Tywin, once we pass Skyreach and climb another stretch of mountain road, we will reach the Eyrie."
Tywin remained in his saddle and nodded, making no move to dismount.
He simply urged his horse up the mountain road.
Hooves clattered against the flagstones, the sound fading into the distance.
Littlefinger stood where he was, staring at the mounted figure's back, stunned for a moment.
Even he, the Protector of the Vale, had dismounted to proceed on foot, yet Tywin had disregarded even the most basic courtesy and ridden straight on.
He wanted to remount and catch up, but one look at the steep, narrow mountain road shook his confidence in his riding.
Not everyone could ride a horse along this path. One misstep could send both horse and rider plunging over the cliff.
Swallowing his embarrassment, he summoned a guard and lowered his voice. "Take the basket lift back to the Eyrie first. Tell Lady Lysa to bring Little Lord Robert to the hall and seat him on the weirwood throne."
The guard glanced at him, nodded, and ran off. Littlefinger said nothing more. Gathering up the hem of his robes, he hurried after Tywin along the steep mountain path.
By the time he reached the gates of the Eyrie, Tywin was already sitting on his horse beneath the gateway, surveying the white castle.
The guards at the entrance exchanged glances. None dared stop him.
Littlefinger hurried over and waved a hand at the guards, who stepped aside in relief.
Without looking at him, Tywin rode straight into the castle.
Littlefinger