A/N: Thanks for all the wonderful reviews/feedback so far! In celebration of the big premiere for the new season, I present to you all ... another chapter! Enjoy :) :)
Chapter 12:
People started running past Isabel on the streets and headed towards Silk Street, which peaked her interest. She saw a group of the City Guard march past her as they yelled between each other about a fight that erupted on the streets and that people had been killed. As Isabel turned the corner, she saw the golden cloaks led by Ser Jamie Lannister walking towards her.
He has blood on his face and sweat on his brow while he resheathed his sword as if he had just finished a hard fought battle. As he walked past Isabel, he smugly looked at her but said nothing to offer any sort of explanation. His actions deeply disturbed her and she picked up her skirts and briskly walked, following the directions of the other people around her until she came to a crowd that was surrounding a number of bodies lying on the floor.
"Did you see it?" said an old man that had been walking not far in front of her.
"I heard the lions ambushed him...killed his men and then they faced off each other!"
"I heard the Hand provoked the Kingslayer!"
"Doesn't matter now…the Hand is as good as dead."
She made no time pushing herself in between the shoulders of the people in front of her and finally made her way to the front, and could only look on in horror as she saw the unconscious body of Ned Stark with a spear that had been impaled in his left thigh. Not far away from him were four of his men that Isabel had recognized from her visits to the Hand's Tower.
She rushed to Ned's side and made sure he was still alive. His heart was weak, and was losing blood extremely fast. Isabel looked around, and could not believe that the City Watch had arrived but had chosen to remain at the side and failing to call or seek help.
"What are you doing?" she yelled at them. "This is the Hand of the King! He needs help!"
Their eyes shifted towards one another, unsure of which orders to carry. Ser Tommas knelt by her side and whispered in her ear, "They've been bought by the Lannisters…they won't do anything to help him. No..they've come to watch him die."
She did not notice that Ned Stark's blood was now seeping between her fingers, and at the hem of her skirts where the pools of blood that were on the floor were now seeping into the sand and everything it would touch.
"Then we will help him, Ser Tommas," she instructed, "The City Watch may turn a blind eye, but I will not."
She glanced around, wary at the strange faces and eyes that were pointing and staring at her. The commoners were all afraid of what was happening, with their inquisitive and accusing glares in her direction. Isabel did not recognize anybody that could be of her service, and wished she had more men with her at that very moment.
She caught his stare within a blink of an eye, hidden deep within the crowds and merely looked on. Petyr Baelish was standing amidst of the chaos, and yet failed to come out and offer help, which gave Isabel reasonable cause to believe that he had something to do with this incident.
The sight of him made her blood boil, and wanted to do nothing more than to take the great sword of Ned Stark, which was lying a few feet away from her, and to hurl it in Petyr Baelish's direction and hoped it would impale him through the heart.
Play this game Isabel, a voice whispered to her. Play it well and you shall be rewarded.
She sat in the council room with the others while they waited for their King. Word had spread quickly to the Red Keep that the Hand of the King was injured from a street fight with Ser Jamie Lannister. Ser Tommas had wasted no time in getting the help he needed in getting Ned Stark transported to the Red Keep. After announcing to anyone in the crowd that should the Hand live that anyone who would offer a helping hand would be rewarded, a few people reluctantly stepped forward and offered their services.
She now waited for her King, to discuss what had happened and to ponder on their next moves. When she entered the castle, she soon discovered that Tyrion Lannister, brother to the Queen had been taken prisoner by Catelyn Tully while on King's Road and presently was headed toward the Vale. As retaliation, the Kingslayer immediately hunted Ned Stark down to declared revenge and vengeance. Despite the horrible situation that would threaten to put the Seven Kingdoms in chaos, she could not help but glare at Petyr Baelish consumed in her own vengeance, who sat patiently in his spot completely unaware of her hateful stares.
"I can't imagine why Ned would be in that part of town," Renly Baratheon wondered.
"Or why Catelyn Tully would arrest Tyrion," said Ser Barristan Selmy.
"She accuses him of a crime that was committed in Winterfell," Petyr offered, "A most impulsive decision, for the mystery as yet to be solved. And now we must fix this problem before war breaks out between the Lannisters and Starks."
"War has already started," Varys suggested, "I'm told Tywin Lannister is already massing his bannermen and will soon invade the Riverlands. An army of twenty-thousand apparently."
Isabel remained silent in their conversation, and stared at her hands, which only moments before was drenched in Ned Stark's blood. She stared at them for so long that she could have sworn she could see a faint colour of red at the tips of her fingers. Her dress had little specks of blood, and would now be the reminder of an event she was sure that would put the whole country into war.
Was this Varys' doing?
The door swung open and the King barged in and wasted no time in getting straight to business.
"Someone better tell me, what the bloody hell happened," he roared out, "and I want the damn truth. First thing I know is that Catelyn Tully has taken the Queen's brother prisoner, Jamie Lannister disappears from under my nose and what do I find out? He puts a spear through the leg of the Hand of the King. And now? Tywin Lannister is calling his men to invade the Riverlands!"
"We should write to the Vale quickly then," Maester Pycelle suggested, "And instruct Lord Robert and his mother to release Tyrion."
"Tyrion Lannister is prisoner to Catelyn, not Lysa or her son," Petyr clarified.
"That does not mean Lady Lysa Arryn should not advise her sister to release him," he replied.
"This better be solved quickly," King Robert yelled impatiently, "I will not have my country torn in two because of some dwarf!"
"What crime does she accuse Tyrion of?" ask Isabel, "Was there an explanation offered?"
"The men say she has arrested him on grounds of attempted murder of her son, Bran Stark," Varys said.
"You mean the incident at Winterfell?" King Robert asked, "The boy fell from the watch tower."
"She believes otherwise."
"Seven hells," he cried, "I will not have the lions and the wolves attacking each other's throats. So as my council, you better give me a solution to this bloody mess."
Everybody remained silent, unsure of what to say or how to remedy the situation. Tywin's family honour had been wronged, and he now sought justice, while the Starks sought justice for a crime that was committed in their lands. It was a difficult situation to grasp, and one that would never be completely solved until Ned Stark woke up and offered his own explanation.
An idea popped into Isabel's mind. It was a risk that could jeopardize Varys' intended plans as he had previously instructed her to not interfere. But the opportunity was there, and maybe...just maybe she could be granted the King's dispensation after all.
"I agree with Maester Pycelle," she slowly began, "we can wait until Tyrion arrives at the Eyrie, and order his release until then."
They all looked at her with curiousity, while Varys looked at her with caution. He was secretly telling her to tread carefully, and to not interfere with a plan that he had already set in motion.
I may play your game Lord Varys, but I will play by my rules.
"Issuing a royal order by the King for the release of Tyrion may not be the best solution. This incident is a…private matter," Peytr Baelish piped in. "One family has wronged the other. The quarrel is between them. To have this council intervene in this matter could have devastating consequences."
"Then it will off the record," she quickly said.
"I do not think Lady Lysa Arryn will release Tyrion because the King ordered her off the record," he mocked.
"If the King orders, then the Defender and Lord of the Vale must follow," she said, choosing her words carefully.
King Robert stared intently at her, and his let out a loud grunt, catching on her hidden intents. "You're as clever as your father, girl."
"Your Grace, Tyrion would be released, and a war could be avoided, if we act quickly," she told him.
"And if I give you your dispensation," he finished for her.
"The Defender of the Vale and Warden of the East is your most humble and loyal servant," she said, and averted her gaze to the table, suddenly fearful of the Baratheon King.
She stole a side glance at Varys, who now refused to give away any emotion on his face. Whether he thought her foolish, stupid, rash or treacherous, Isabel could not tell.
After a long hard thought, King Robert slammed his fist down at the table, startling everybody in the room. His piercing gaze met Isabel's eye as he pointed his finger at her. "Bring the Imp back in one piece, and make sure this war doesn't break out. This is your king's wish and command….and as Defender of the Vale and Warden of the East, I expect you to keep the peace."
She bowed her head and could no longer hide the victorious smirk on her face. "As you wish, my King."
She sat on the side of Ned Stark's bed, who lied completely still in his deep slumber unaware of the events which were rapidly unfolding around him. When Isabel and Ser Tommas reached the Red Keep, Ned was barely clinging onto his life due to the amount of blood that he lost. Maester Pycelle was unsure if his weakened state could survive the fever that shortly followed, and was considering administering the milk of poppy to ease the suffering.
For a short time, everybody was unsure whether Ned Stark was going to die. And the words the Varys told her had haunted her since then.
I will take as many lives as it takes, the voice whispered in her head.
He told her to do nothing, but how could she? She saw the tears and cries that Sansa and Arya Stark shed for their father. She saw the fear in Arya Stark's eyes as her greatest nightmare had come true, and it made Isabel feel guilty for telling the younger girl that nothing would ever happen to her father.
"I'm sorry Ned…I could have stopped all of this," she whispered.
She knew Ned Stark was investigating Jon Arryn's murder, and there were rumours that he had visited that brothel seeking such information. Isabel could have put a stop to this, for Varys had told her enough to wipe any suspicion off the Lannisters. She could have told Ned that it was Petyr Baelish who used all his lies and deceptions to implicate the lions, and was leading him on in a wild goose chase.
"Please forgive me, but there are greater things at stake…things you cannot comprehend," she whispered again.
Isabel left his room, but was startled by Lord Varys who was waiting for her outside.
"I must caution you in your next moves, my Lady. I caution you not be so rash in the near future," he warned.
She darted her eyes around, making sure that there was no one around them to eavesdrop, but lowered her voice for safe measures. "Did you know about this too?" she accused.
"It had to be done," he replied.
"Four people died today in the streets, because of you. Four innocent men."
"They also died because of you," he challenged, "You knew the truth, and you failed to inform Ned about it. You practically gave him to Petyr and his devious ways."
She was at a loss of words, trying to defend herself, but deep down she knew it was useless. Every word that Varys spoke of was true. Their hands were on her blood as well – she was just as guilty as Varys.
"I should have done something. I should have said something," she said in a vain attempt to reason with herself.
"And what would have that accomplished? Knowing Petyr's ways, he would have maneuvered his way out, and somehow still blame the Lannisters. And you could not have predicted Lady Stark taking Tyrion hostage."
"How many others must we hurt?" she asked herself, "How much more blood will taint my hands?"
She looked down at her bare hands, and could not erase the feeling of the red liquid that seeped through her fingers.
"To win the game of thrones? Whatever it takes."
The arrow hit its target perfectly, embedding its head in the middle of the board. Robb Stark and Theon Greyjoy practiced their archery skills everyday to ensure they would become excellent marksmen. It was Theon's favourite pastime, and it was Robb's opportunity to have a moment for himself.
His mother's sudden departure to King's Landing meant that he was ruling the North as well as Winterfell by himself. Of course he had his father's bannermen and Maester Pycelle to advise him, but he had never felt so alone in his life.
Thud. Another arrow was let loose, and landed perfectly in the middle.
He was relieved when Bran woke up, but felt helpless that he could not give his brother the miracle that he desperately wanted. The gods were unfair to rob a child of his dreams, but instead leave him a broken cripple
Word had quickly come from the ravens, announcing that his mother had taken Tyrion Lannister as hostage and now was headed to the Vale. His father, now wounded and unconscious was helpless to mediate the situation as the Lannisters were threatening to invade his mother's homeland.
Time was ticking, and it would be very soon when his Northern men would be looking at him for action, should his father perish or if the Riverlands be invaded. He could no longer be a young boy anymore; he had to grow up and become the man that his Father raised him to be. He needed to lead, to rule and very soon, he could be riding into open war.
"I say we call your father's bannermen now and march south to help your mother's house…we'll let the Lannisters know that we're coming for them," said Theon, as he restrung his bow to ready another shot.
"No," Robb interjected. "We wait until the Lannisters make the first move."
"So they can have the first swing? They'll think us weak! I say we should attack now!"
"I'll let them make the first move, so I can better study my opponent Theon. I will not risk the lives of my men because of impulsive decisions. This is not a game anymore…we could be on the brink of war; real lives are now at stake."
"Do you think your father will wake up? Do you think he'll come back to Winterfell to lead us?"
Robb pursed his lips and frowned. "I don't know."
His thoughts went to Isabel, and suddenly began to understand what it was like to live in her shoes. She often spoke of the treachery and deceit that she had to endure in King's Landing, and the impossible decisions she had to undertake. She talked about sacrifices that needed to happen, and how heavy the burden was on her shoulders. She talked about how scared she was because of the uncertainty of her future.
Danger was at his doorsteps, and he was scared of what was to come. He needed her desperately, he wanted her by his side and began to wonder if he would ever see her again, despite a foolish promise they made only months earlier.
You know I can't Robb.
That's what she kept saying to him, and yet he willed his heart not to listen and had blindly forced her into giving them another chance. He wanted things to work out – he almost wished for it every day but he had failed to listen to her cautious words. Her last letter sent a deep dark feeling to the pit of his stomach. He could sense the fear in her words, as she too had wondered what the realm would become should war erupt, and what would become of them. It also saddened his heart to see the tear stains near the bottom of the page, how her usual eloquent signed named was now replaced with a dark black smudge across the bottom of the letter.
Was she crying for him? Was she afraid for him?
He wanted nothing but to run away from his responsibilities and take her away from all the troubles that had plagued the young pair. But war was fast approaching, and his dreams did not seem to matter anymore. All of Winterfell and its lands were on his shoulders, and they were waiting for their Lord.
A/N: Alas, our Lady Isabel now returns to the Vale, with a mighty advantage to help her cause...removing her brother is one task, but can she win the loyalty of her lords? But war now approaches, and the game is about to change yet again...
:)