Nysa Arryn knew mountains. The cold, high mountains of the Eyrie had been her home for her whole life, and even after the birth of her younger brother, her father had never hesitated to take her on his many trips to survey the Vale or meet with other houses’ lords. Her mother, however, had been a house of the valley itself, and had coped quite nicely with being the Lady of House Arryn by avoiding windows and refusing to look down when they traveled to and from the Eyrie.
So while it disappointed fifteen-year-old Nysa to hear her mother scream loud enough to be heard over the waterfall next to her feet, it did not surprise her. From the shoulder of the mountain off of which Alyssa’s Tears fell, the windows of the Eyrie were mostly dark holes in the side of the grand castle, so she couldn’t see precisely where her mother was, but she waved cheerily at the castle, before having to shove her windswept raven hair again from her face.
She could not hear the demands for her to return home immediately her mother was no doubt hollering from the castle walls, so they may as well have not been said at all. Sticking her fingers in her mouth to pull it wider, she made a face at the castle, and then laughed. “Don’t worry!” She hollered back, no doubt not at all audible to her intended audience. “I left Aldin at home! This time!”
She scooted closer to the edge of the mountain, lying flat on her belly and putting her chin on top of her hands as she peered over to where Alyssa’s Tears flowed. She had found her way to Alyssa’s Tears when she was ten. It had taken her ages of practicing and experimenting to make it there, since her brother had bet she couldn’t do it two years prior. Not that he remembered, stupid little coward. She sighed in contentment, reliving the feeling when she’d first made it there, not at all bothered by the scratches and scrapes on her arms and hands. They had hurt later, but at the time, they’d been proof of her victory.
From here, it was easy to see why people said that Alyssa’s Tears never reached the valley floor. The waters sprayed forth ferociously, setting off a mist that made it more and more difficult to follow its path the farther it went, and the height of the mountain cast shadows so deep that it became impossible to see the valley below, three miles away. Nysa reached out her hand. She wasn’t so close to the waterfall to be in any danger of being swept away, but even from where she was, she felt the spray against her fingers and cheeks.
Smiling, Nysa closed her eyes. Surely there could be nothing better than this. The bite of the wind, the roar of the waterfall, and the feeling of being on the edge of a cliff. Like the falcon that soared above the world, she was an Arryn, born to know that the world was small and beneath her feet. Her mother’s nonsense about needing to find a husband couldn’t reach her here, nor could she ever imagine any man that could tempt her from this.