I believe the Lannisters murdered Lord Arryn, Catelyn replied, but whether it was Tyrion, or Ser Jaime, or the queen, or all of them together, I could not begin to say.
Lysa had named Cersei in the letter she had sent to Winterfell, but now she seemed certain that Tyrion was the killer...
Perhaps because the dwarf was here, while the queen was safe behind the walls of the Red Keep, hundreds of leagues to the south.
Catelyn almost wished she had burned her sister's letter before reading it.
Ser Rodrik tugged at his whiskers. Poison, well...that could be the dwarf's work, true enough.
Or Cersei's. It's said poison is a woman's weapon, begging your pardons, my lady.
The Kingslayer, now...I have no great liking for the man, but he's not the sort.
Too fond of the sight of blood on that golden sword of his. Was it poison, my lady?
Catelyn frowned, vaguely uneasy. How else could they make it look a natural death?
Behind her, Lord Robert shrieked with delight as one of the puppet knights sliced the other in half, spilling a flood of red sawdust onto the terrace.
She glanced at her nephew and sighed.
The boy is utterly without discipline.
He will never be strong enough to rule unless he is taken away from his mother for a time.
His lord father agreed with you, said a voice at her elbow.
She turned to behold Maester Colemon, a cup of wine in his hand.