Chapter 7:

The doors opened into the High Hall, a room where her father and his descendants had ruled the Vale from since the Andals first landed in Westeros. In the centre was the infamous Moon Door, which would open up to a six hundred foot drop for those who were punished and condemned to execution. At the end of the hall, was the throne of House Arryn carved of weirwood and gazed down at its people. This was the room where her ancestors had ruled the Vale since they first landed in Westeros six thousand years ago.

She had longed to set her eyes upon this very room and the sight gave Isabel shivers down her spine. She made a step forward slowly, as she reached to touch the bare benches that surrounded the Moon Door, feelings its stone and carvings. It felt cold to the touch, but gave her a sudden rush of energy. She made her way to the ramp, and slowly caressed the pale blue stone railings, as it led her to the throne of her father's house.

She stood behind it, and grasped the edge, feeling the weirwood through her skin. Isabel looked out onto the empty room, but still basked in the glory. No, she dared not to sit in her father's place.

Not yet, at least. There was still work to be done, before she felt was worthy enough to call herself Lady of the Vale and Warden of the East.

"What are you doing?" a voice called out.

She looked up, and saw her ice blue eyes staring up at her. Isabel had not seen Lysa Arryn since her father fell ill, and she looked terrible. Her deep red hair, which was normally tied back was now tangled and sprawled across her chest as if she had not washed or combed it in days. Her skin, which was once lightly tanned from the southern sun, was now pale and hollow, as if she had not seen the sun or eaten in weeks. Her eyes, though they glared with such ferocity at Isabel, looked tired as if she had not slept in several days.

Lysa Arryn looked like a ghost.

"I've returned home," Isabel stated. She removed herself from the throne, and made her way back down so she would stand in front of her step-mother.

"You're not welcome here," she seethed,

"The Eyrie is my home, and the Vale, my land. I have every right to be here," Isabel replied.

The corners of Lysa's mouth began to quiver, struggling to retain her composure. "I know what you're trying to do here. Well, you won't have it! This place is Robert's birthright!"

Isabel remained calmed, remembering the words of her father. She looked at Lysa, whose composure began deteriorating and her true nature emerging. The paranoia was slowly reaching into her eyes, as the blue eyes which momentarily before look ferocious now looked lost and glassy. Her body, shaking and she clenched her fists in an effort to control herself.

"And what would you do if I said otherwise? What would you say if I told you my brother will never be Lord of the Vale?" she thought out loud, hoping to strike a nerve with her step-mother.

"You'll never inherit your father's titles!" she yelled out. "Never! The lords of these lands will never follow you. No one in this realm would ever dream of helping you! Not after what you did!"

The words silenced Isabel, and narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "It was you?" she asked. "You sent the letter?"

Lysa said nothing, but her eyes gave the truth away. "Does your hatred of me run so deep that you resort to accusing me of murdering my own father?" she asked in disbelief.

"He's always loved you," she said hysterically. "He did everything for you…and what has he done for me? For his son? It was me who gave him a son! An heir! And yet he still treats you as the son he never had, as if Robert never existed!"

"Was my father murdered?" Isabel asked slowly, ignoring the cries of a desperate woman.

The two women remained silent, but held each other's gaze as Isabel struggled to fight the tears that were forming around her eyes. "Answer me," she said louder, as her voice began to crack.

The older woman quivered, and made a noise as her strength slowly escaped from her body. "Answer me," she said forcibly again.

Lysa collapsed on the stone bench, and began sobbing, rocking herself back and forth in an effort to control herself. "They feared him…of what he knew..," she began muttering. "They poisoned him…they murdered him!"

Isabel gulped and remained silent, letting the information sink in. "W-who?"

"The lions….those Lannisters…they poisoned him," she wailed.

She collapsed next to her step-mother, and said nothing. She stared at her hands, which were now slightly shaking. She clenched her fists into a ball in an effort to control her emotions. Lannisters? The questions spun through her head, as she tried in vain to search for a motive as to why they would murder her father.

"How can you be so sure?" she asked.

"Who else would it be? Jon grew too powerful for them…Petyr always warned me of them...he told me that they'd tried to remove him one day."

"Petyr?" she echoed. What in the seven hells does this have to do with Petyr Baelish?

"Petyr tried to warn him…tried to help him, but Jon turned him away. If only he would have listened to him!" she cried out.

Isabel relaxed her hands and let out a few very deep breathes to clear her mind. She looked at her step-mother who was disheveled and worn, with tears pouring down her face as she continued to muttered nonsensical things. At that moment, Lysa Arryn's former beauty had escaped and left her a paranoid and tattered woman. At that moment, Isabel did not hate her step-mother – instead, she felt pity.

"What are we doing here?" she asked warily. "Why do we fight? You're tired…you need rest. And Robert needs his mother…go back to the Riverlands and live your life in peace, with your family. Raise your son, free from the politics and give him a chance at happiness."

For a moment, it looked like Lysa Arryn was about to consider Isabel's offer, but something in the woman snapped, and her venomous demeanor returned. "If you think you can rid of me that easily, then you must be a fool," she said.

"Your son will get hurt," Isabel tried to reason.

"Do not tell me how to raise my son!" she yelled. "The Vale will never be yours. Never."

"Is that your choice then, my Lady?" she asked in finality.

Lysa tightened her lips and stood her ground, a silent act of defiance and their futures sealed. Isabel smiled sadly at her. She had given them a choice; a way out, and a chance for her brother to live in peace with his mother. But instead, Lysa Arryn had chosen war.


"I've brought you something," the boy said. His hands were cupped together, and he held them in front of her face, waiting to unveil its hidden contents.

Isabel scrunched her face, unsure whether this was another one of Robb's pranks. This was her third visit to Winterfell, and the twelve year old girl had slowly grown accustomed to the fact that every time Robb Stark wanted to give her something, it was almost always an insect that ended up in her hair.

"If it's another bug of yours, I don't want it," she said.

"Oh come on!" he said lightly. "I promise it's not a bug…and I promise I won't throw it at you."

He pushed his hands towards her, silently begging her to accept his childish token. Reluctantly, Isabel took his hand and removed it; readying herself to run away at any given notice should an insect be flying in her direction.

A small chirp emerged between Robb's fingers, as he presented a baby bird that had blue and white feathers, with a small yellow beak. Its eyes blinked slowly and its chirps grew louder as it tried to grasps its surrounding.

"Where did you get it?" Isabel asked, as she brought her finger to its head trying to pet the creature. The bird nipped her finger in affection, surprising the girl and she slightly jumped in reaction.

"Jon and I found it in the woods. Its nest had fallen from the wind...poor thing," he explained.

"Well, what do we do with it? It can't survive much longer without its mother," she asked.

Robb shrugged his shoulders, unsure of a solution. "It's a present for you," he said.

"Well, what am I going to do with it? I can't bring it back to King's Landing with me…it won't survive the journey" she said.

A sudden idea popped in the young boy's head. "We'll give it to Maester Luwen! He'll raise it, and then he can train it to be a messenger bird…between here and King's Landing! That way, we'll have our own bird for our use!"

He had a huge grin on his face, suddenly feeling proud of himself at the ingenious solution. Isabel would often make fun of him for never using his brain enough, but his smile quickly faded when she started laughing at him.

"What?" he asked.

"Why would we need a messenger bird for ourselves?"

"So I can write to you! Father says it's important that we write to each other because I'm here and you're there. That way, we won't feel like strangers the next time you visit."

"Who ever said I'd actually end up marrying you?" she mocked. "Mother says that betrothals get broken all the time!"

Robb remained silent, feeling hurt at her words. He looked at the bird still cupped in his hands, which had now fallen asleep. When he found the creature, he had immediately thought of Isabel, as it reminded him of her sigil. He thought it would make a fine present for her, thinking it would make her smile – something he noticed he liked doing recently.

Sensing the hurt in Robb's face, she quickly apologized. "I was only joking, Robb! We'll give the bird to Maester Luwen…but you have to promise me that'll you write everyday. King's Landing gets too boring sometimes and I'll need lots of letters to occupy my time."

The boyish smile returned to the northern boy's face. "Everyday."


The voices of the lords of the Vale spoke over one another in the hall of Lord Nestor Royce, filling the room with inaudible speeches, shouts and grunts. Word had spread amongst the houses that Lady Isabel had returned, and many were eager to meet with her.

She recognized many of the sigils that the lords had displayed proudly on their cloaks and armour. Lord Hersy, House Hersy of Newskeep, sat to her left, was in deep conversation with the eldest son of Lord Benedar Belmore. Across from them was Lord Nestor Royce, of House Royce of the Gates of the Moon, one of the principal houses in the Vale, and one of her father's most trusted and loyal friends. Lord Nestor Royce had served as steward for her father, and had been ruling the Vale in his name – an act of loyalty that her father would constantly remind Isabel to never forget.

Near the end of the table were lords and knights from House Donniger, House Royce of Runestone, House Redfort and House Wydman.

"My Lords," she called out, slowly silencing them as the voices died down. "I cannot thank you enough for meeting with me tonight."

"I believe it is the other way around, my Lady," replied Lord Nestor Royce. "It is an honour to be in your presence. You look just like your mother...and yet I see so much of your father in you."

The other lords murmured in agreement. "These are only but a few houses that once pledged allegiance and loyalty to your father…and now pledge loyalty to you, my Lady," he continued, "I've been steward of the Vale since your father was named Hand of the King, and now our young Lord Robert rules us, with his mother as Regent. But I know all too well the hardships and challenges what a lord must endure to retain the happiness of his people. Lord Robert Arryn is simply unfit to rule, and so we look to you my Lady."

"The Lady Arryn spends her time locked up in her chambers, and fails to properly tutor her son in ruling the realm. The mountain clans grow bolder, threatening our trade routes, while she chooses to increase the taxes on our people. She cares not for the Vale," added Lord Hersy.

They fell to silence and looked to Isabel, who was seated in the middle of the long table and had yet to say anything thus far. They now waited for her judgment, and treated her as of their equals. It was a moment that she had prepared for since she was a little girl. "Are you all in agreement, my lords?" she asked cautiously.

The lords murmured in consent, with some nodding their heads and others pledging their loyalty. "There are those absent here today who are too afraid to speak out against Lysa Arryn, and there are those absent who oppose you my Lady. But I assure you, we greatly outnumber them," replied Lord Egen.

Isabel knew House Egen well, as his eldest son, Ser Vardis was captain of her father's household guard in King's Landing. Since her father's passing, Ser Vardis had chosen to remain in King's landing to serve Isabel's household. Scanning the room, she did in fact realize that the lords from House Hardyng, Grafton and Coldwater were missing.

"I know this is hard for you my lords," she began, "to be forced to pledge allegiance between two Arryn children, for you all served my father with unquestionable loyalty. And you would not be in this room tonight, if you did not show concern in the future of our lands and our people. I love my brother…he is my father's son, and is of my blood. I do not wish him any harm, but I cannot let him rule nor his mother…even if it means war."

The room remained silent; as each house member let her words slowly sink into their conscience. "I ask you to look into your hearts and conscience and ask in great humility to support my claim to my father's titles. I ask you tonight my lords, to renounce my brother, the Lord Robert Arryn of his claim to the throne."

"The Lady Arryn will not relinquish those rights so easily," a voice piped in. "How do you suppose to get her to agree?"

"Though I do not wish for your brother to rule, I do not wish to start a war between our houses," said another.

"I do not wish for war either, my lords," she replied, "war is unpredictable, its outcomes uncertain. But my step-mother has left me no choice…I cannot sit here and let her rule."

"War will mean fighting with the Tullys, the Freys, perhaps even the Starks since her sister is Lady of Winterfell. It will mean attacking the Eyrie, a most difficult feat."

She closed her eyes, having already known the predicament. Her thoughts went back to Cersei Lannister and her offer of an alliance. It was a viable solution – money, men and supplies would be at her disposal. But at what price?

I will not marry a Lannister, she told herself.

"I will seek support from King Robert," she said. "A king's dispensation will have Robert's rights relinquished...the simplest solution. I will return to King's Landing and seek an audience with him. If that fails, the burden to fight Lysa Arryn will be on me…all I ask is for your loyalty when the time is right."

She held her breathe for a moment, unsure if the lords would disagree and simply walk out of the room. Lord Nestor Royce gave her a hard and cold stare, as if he was assessing her strength and searching for weakness.

She clenched her jaw in nervousness and stared right back at him, refusing to blink or look away. I am my father's daughter, she told herself. I am not afraid of anything.

"I twice rode along side your father into war…and I will be honoured to ride into war once more with his daughter. You have my allegiance, my Lady," declared Lord Nestor Royce.

It didn't take long for the other sworn houses to follow and the victorious cries and shouts declaring Isabel, Lady of the Vale soon engulfed the room.