A/N: I don't own the world of G.R.R Martin nor his characters.
The Anatomy of Wit:
How far are you willing to go to claim back what is rightfully yours? All warfare is based on deception - with enemies at every corner, choosing whom to trust is the hardest game of them all.
Chapter 1:
His brows were dripping in sweat, and his staggered breathe began to slow. The fire, which had engulfed the room in the early evening, had now diminished to a dull ember. His body, covered in his blankets began to shiver.
She watched helplessly, unsure of what to do. The only thing she could do was to watch her father die. She grabbed his hand, now cold and clammy and clasped it tight, as if she forbade him to leave her alone.
"Isn't there anything else you can do, Maester Pycelle?" she asked desperately.
The Grand Maester, a frail old man of nearing 90 stood calmly by the door. Even under the heavy metal collar and the heavy grey robe that drowned his small figure, she could already sense his answer.
"I've already given him the milk of poppy, my Lady. There isn't much more I can do for him but wait until the end," he said sadly.
She closed her eyes to prevent the tears that threatened to fall. No, she told herself. She had to be strong right now; for herself and for her dying father.
"What will I do without you now?" she whispered to herself.
The door creaked open and she looked up to see a pale small boy at the entrance. His big eyes which bore into her own and for a brief moment it pained her that her little brother would be fatherless by the end of the night. "Will father be alright?" he asked timidly.
She gave him a small smile, but said nothing to answer his question. She looked at him and wished so hard that she could comfort him, hold him and soothe him like a loving sister. Yet her heart felt nothing for the smaller child. Robert Arryn was her father's son; but they did not share the same mother.
And he threatened everything that she held dear to her heart.
"It's late my dear brother. Go find your mother," she said quietly.
"Can I kiss father goodnight?" he asked innocently.
She hesitated to answer. Would she deny a simple affection of love that a son would bear towards a father? Would she deny a final farewell?
"Make it quick, brother. Father is not feeling well and is already fast asleep," she said.
The young boy ran over to her side and waited for his sister to carry him onto the bed. Her brother had been plagued with frequent fevers and illnesses as a baby and as a result was not strong enough to do many of the things a healthy six year old boy could. She lifted him up with ease and placed him beside her dying father and watched as the younger Arryn pecked his father's cheek.
"Now off to bed Robert. Your mother will be waiting for you," she said as she lifted him back to the ground.
Without the slightest hesitation, the young Robert Arryn ran out the door and presumably off to nurse his mother's breast. She looked back at the father and inhaled a deep breathe. She knew she would be alone now; there would be no one to cry to or to lean on for support and no one to share her happiness or sorrows. This upcoming battle would be hers and hers alone to fight.
"Goodbye father," she whispered.
The morning light shone through the windows, and the bells rung to signal that The Hand of the King was now dead, and King's Landing was in mourning. She walked purposefully to the Great Hall where the High Septon was to begin the Death Rites for her Father. Her black mourning gown flowed away from her body as she gazed down at her father's body in the midst of the Faith.
"Your father will be missed," a voice broke out beside her. "He was a great friend to Robert."
She turned and smiled to the older woman, who was in her own mourning attire. "Thank you, your grace," she replied quietly.
"Will you be returning to the Eyrie?" the queen inquired. "Please know Isabel that you are always welcome to stay at Red Keep. You were an indispensible asset to the king's council. I'm sure Lord Baelish would take you as an assistant of sorts."
The queen's face gave away nothing to Isabel. Sometimes she was a friend, and sometimes she was a foe. Whether the queen was being truly sincere, Isabel could not guess. "The Lady Arryn and her son left for the Eyrie at first light this morning. I don't imagine a very warm welcome from her if I chose to return," she replied warily.
A knowing smile crept up on the queen's face. "I've heard you have very weak relations to your mother."
"She's not my mother," Isabel snapped.
The smile remained on Cersei's face, knowing that she had struck a nerve with the younger woman. "My apologies, Isabel."
Cersei noticed the tears that were beginning to form in the young girl's eyes, and could not help but remember the death of her own mother all those years ago. For a brief moment, she felt sorry for the young Arryn girl. "Jon should have never brought you to the Red Keep, though I'm happy he did. But for a woman so young, you should be happily married with a husband somewhere other than here and away from all these…politics. This place…it's a never ending game."
Isabel gave a grim smile. "That dream was broken a long time ago. When my mother died…everything changed."
"Who was that boy you were betrothed to? A Stark boy wasn't it?"
Isabel noticed the frown on the queen's face upon mentioning the house that ruled the northern lands. She could not help but notice her own frown that was forming on her own face. What are you up to Cersei Lannister?
"Like I said, it was a long time. Those dreams don't matter anymore."
The rites were beginning, as a low drum broke their conversation and the High Septon now murmuring inaudible prayers. The two women looked down and the procession; one deep in thought about her own future and the other worried about the future of her realm.
"Who will be the Hand of the King now?" Isabel wondered out loud.
Cersei pretended not to hear the question, but she was wondering the same thing. My brother should be Hand, she thought. As if she felt a pair of eyes on her, she looked up and noticed her beloved, adorned in the gold suit across the hall staring back at her as if he knew she was thinking about him.
My beloved, she thought. What a fine Hand you would make. We could rule all of Westeros together.
Isabel returned to her quarters by late afternoon, but had no appetite to eat. The maids and her guards bowed their heads as she walked down the hall in respect of her late father. As she sat down in the gardens to rest her eyes, a timid girl broke her silence, "Lord Baelish wishes to speak to you, my Lady."
She took a huge breathe, her mind already wary of the sound of his name. Littlefinger was always up to no good, and always up to something, so her father had always said. She personally never trusted the man, and yet never escaped the lustful gazes that he bore towards her ever since she could remember.
"Send him in," she commanded.
He strode in as if he were king himself and took a seat to Isabel's right. She first met Petyr Baelish when she was only a little girl, first introduced by her father. As she the years went on and Isabel began helping her father with administrative duties, she had begun to learn of Petyr's questionable yet genius methods at financing the city. When Isabel had wanted to set up a trades post near the ports of Blackwater Rush, he of course gave her indispensible advice on how to run a successful business; at a price of course. No, she could not deny his intelligence and skill or even his usefulness, but she knew she could never trust him completely. She kept a straight face, mentally telling herself to stay sharp. You are your father's daughter, she said to herself. I am not afraid of anything.
"My condolences to you, Isabel," he said sadly. "Jon Arryn was a respected friend."
"Strange…he never used the word friend when he described you," she pondered out loud.
He let out a chuckle, ignoring her insult. "He was a clever man. Strange he fell to illness so fast. It seemed like just the other day he was boasting about going hunting with the King, because he felt in good health."
"What do you want Lord Baelish?"
"Well then, straight to business I suppose. It's always like that between you and I. Oh, how I wish we could be the very best of friends. Anyhow, Lord Varys and I were wondering…were you planning on returning to the Eyrie now? I can't imagine why you would stay here now that Jon is gone. But then again, I can't imagine you returning to the Vale now that your step-mother and brother now sits in the Moon Room."
She narrowed her eyes at him, knowing full well what Littlefinger was trying to do. "Tell me, did the Lady Arryn whisper those thoughts into your ear before or after you brought her to your bed?"
He brought his hand to his heart, "You break my heart Isabel. To accuse such dishonourable things between myself and Lysa…such empty words on your part. We were only very close childhood friends."
"I didn't know you thought yourself as an honourable man…what with the three whorehouses you manage on the side."
He gave a knowing smile. "Honour never brought me good business."
"The Vale is mine by right of birth," Isabel stated.
"She may dispute otherwise. Afterall, it is her child that is a firstborn son."
"She knows nothing of the Vale, and nor does her sickly son. It is rightfully mine…and it's a battle I'm willing to fight." she spat.
"A fight you risk losing?" he inquired.
"I don't intend to lose Lord Baelish. I have seen the game of thrones played ever since I came to King's Landing when I was a child. I know the risks, and I know its rewards. Believe me when I say I intend to win."
"Oh, I don't doubt you at all."
The ports were always bustling with new stories from across the Narrow Sea. Ships from Bravos, Pentos and many of the other Free Cities docked at Blackwater Rush everyday with new goods to sell to the people of Westoros. The ports were Isabel's favourite part of King's Landing. Every merchant and trader had their own stories to tell, and every goods they sold had their own unique story. She'd hear tales of the legends, gods, kings and tribes as far as the Dothraki Plains to the Jade Sea which seemed worlds away from her. Being near the ports made the sadness and the memories of her father go away altogether.
In time, these traders became good companions to her as she began conducting business with them. With the help of Petyr Baelish, Isabel had managed to own a private house near the ports for her to lodge the visiting merchants and to store her bought merchandise. It soon became a sanctuary for her during the times when the Red Keep was too much to handle, and much to her delight, it soon became a profitable venture.
"Lady Arryn!" a voice called out.
She turned her head towards a ship she instantly recognized. It was from Braavos, and one of her first friends in the business. Its purple hull was familiar by heart amongst the mass of ships along the ports. She smiled and walked towards the ship and watched as the Braavian men began to unload their goods onto shore.
"What lovely presents do you have for me today William?"
"I have but one present for you, my Lady….but the rest is for sale," he jested.
William was at least a head taller than her and twice as large the other way. She had heard tales of his excellent swordsmanship, though she had always had her doubts. However the size of his figure made it so easy for him to unload the endless amount of merchandise that he brought. He opened up one of the boxes and ruffled through a few items before he lifted out a small box and handed it over to Isabel. "I just heard about your father, my Lady…I am truly sorry. But alas! Perhaps something to cheer you up. A beautiful trinket for the most beautiful woman," he said.
She felt herself blush at the comment. "You jest with me William! I've heard the stories myself from you. The courtesans of Braavos are amongst the most beautiful women you've ever seen."
"Ah, but my Lady, they are beautiful, but if you were put in a room with all of them, you would surely be the shining star," he replied with a wink.
She carefully opened the box and found herself staring at a delicate gold chain and a red stone pendant. She smiled to herself as she held it between her fingers and put it around her neck. "Beautiful indeed."
"The old man I bought it from swore the pendant was once worn by the legendary Helena the Fair; one of the most beautiful courtesans that ever lived in Braavian history. I thought it fitting for you."
"William!" she exclaimed, "You flatter me too much. What ever will your wife say if she found out?"
He let out a loud laugh, "Do not fear my Lady Arryn. My wife knows of my attempts at trying to woo you, and she takes it all in good faith. She thinks you're too good for me!"
"This is definitely a woman I would like to meet in the near future."
"It would be my greatest honour."
The two friends went back to going through what William had brought from across the Narrow Sea. He was one of her best customers, remaining loyal after many years. Most of William's merchandise often went to the Red Keep. Boxes of silks, spices and rare weaponry, steel and jewels were some of the favourites with the Lannisters and their extended family. Other goods such as various trinkets, dried fruits, preserves and cloths were sold to Petyr Baelish and his flourishing establishments across the cities.
As the last boxes were carted off by one of her men back to her house, William took out a letter from his vest and handed it to her when he made sure that they were now alone. "He requests a meeting," he said quietly.
"Is he with you?"
"He arrives tonight during when the sun sets. He'll need lodging of course. And discretion is a must," William urged.
She raised an eyebrow as her eyes skimmed over the words of the letter. "Strange, he never crosses the Narrow Sea…must be important. I'll see that his every request is fulfilled. He knows where to go. When the City Watch passes through Shadowback Lane after the sun goes down, tell him a little bird will be waiting to escort him. He'll know where to meet."
"You won't be waiting for him?"
"I prefer not to be involved in their politics."
She went to her sash that was wrapped around her wash and undid the strings of the pouch that was filled gold coins and handed it to her business partner. "I believe there's more than enough in there to keep you satisfied for the time being…for your discretion in this matter of course."
He shook the pouch and listened to the coins jingle before reaching in and quickly counting them. He gave her a huge smile and took her hand and lightly pecked it. "As always, it's a pleasure doing business with you, my Lady."
A/N: Just another idea that popped in my head awhile back. Enjoy! :)