Chapter 13:
She wasted no time in preparing her journey back to the Vale. Arrangements were made, and she was set to leave by sunset if she wanted to arrive in Gulltown by the next morning. Though the king made it seem like her mission would be of a temporary absence in King's Landing, deep down she had a strong instinct that this would probably be the last time she'd ever set foot in the capital.
Keep the peace, whatever it takes.
It was a daunting task, but she knew she had the strength to achieve it. Releasing Tyrion Lannister was the easy part – it was deciding whether she would send her Valemen into war was a decision that weighed heavy in her heart. She knew the Riverlands would ask for her support and now that she had refused the Lannister's hand of friendship, she had gained their enmity bringing further worries that they might attack the Vale. And yet, she also knew that Varys had instructed her to not interfere in what was to come.
How can I not do anything? War will be on our very doorsteps soon.
She removed the remainder of her dresses from her wardrobe and placed it in the last remaining chest before closing it and locking it with a key. A knock at the door interrupted Isabel and she turned around to see Arya Stark waiting by the entrance, hesitant to walk in.
"The door was open," the girl said timidly.
"Come in," Isabel replied with a warm smile and motioned the younger girl to her bed where Arya sat down.
"Why do you have to go?"
"It's the king's orders Arya," she tried to explain. "Tensions are high in the realm, and I must do what I can to mediate it."
"I don't want you to leave," she stated, "Isabel…my father…"
In an instant, Isabel knelt in front of the northern girl and held her small hands within hers. "He will wake up. Do not worry."
"They killed Jory! They almost killed my father! What if I'm next?"
"Then you fight back Arya," she said earnestly, "you show the lions there's a wolf in you that can battle them head on. You show them what the North is capable of."
Her words did not convince of comfort Arya, and she sat on her bed with a worried look on her face. It was her fault that her father was injured, she told herself. If only she was able to see who those two men were or if only she followed them and listened to more of their conversation, then perhaps none of this would have happened.
Isabel did not know what else to do to calm her nerves. But an idea appeared in her head, and she went to one of her chests and began rummaging through her belongings until she pulled out an amulet – the very one she gave her father before he was murdered.
"It's a dragonglass amulet, blessed by the priests of Rh'llor to ward off the evil shadows that lurk in the corners. It was my father's, and now I give it to you to protect you and ease you from your worries," she explained as she put it around Arya's neck, "Keep it with you always, wear it under your clothes and it will keep you safe. Should anything happen while I'm gone and you don't feel safe in this castle anymore, go to the ports and show this amulet to the ship that sails the purple masts. It's a Braavosi ship, and the only one that ports in Blackwater this time of year, so you can't miss it. Tell the captain that I sent you there, and he will take you home."
"Am I still in danger then?"
"We do not know what tomorrow brings," she said sadly, and gently cupped the young girl's face, "Anything could happen, so we must be prepared. If you can't find the ship, then this amulet fetches a good price…enough for safe passage back to White Harbour. Understand?"
Arya nodded, and held the amulet in her hand for a moment before concealing it underneath her dress. She jumped up and gave a tight hug to Isabel wishing that she wouldn't leave. With her father still not awake, Isabel was the only friend she could trust in King's Landing.
And now she was leaving – leaving Arya alone and afraid.
At dusk, when the sun began inching towards the horizon, the ports at Blackwater Rush were still bustling with activity. Many ships were getting ready to set sail, while other ships were just arriving into the capital city. As her men began loading her belongings onto the ship sent by the Vale, she spotted Varys approaching the docks.
"It's a rare occasion for you to venture outside the Red Keep," she said, "Come to see me off?"
He smiled and handed her a scroll, "Your dispensation papers, as promised by the King. Take precaution, Lady Isabel. You head towards dangerous waters and uncertain circumstances. Remember what I've told you."
She unconsciously narrowed her eyes at him. "That sounded more like a threat."
"Then you would do wise to listen to my words of wisdom," he objected.
"I intend to release the Imp, should he still be alive when I arrive at the Eyrie," she explained.
"Lady Stark will ask you for your support to defend her father's lands. You are to withhold any sort of aid, even if your lords advocate for war," he explained.
"And if I don't?"
"I think you already know what the consequences will be should you not play by my rules, my Lady."
"If anything happens to Ned...and I mean anything, to him or his daughters, then consider the rules changed. These are my words of wisdom Lord Varys," she challenged.
Each day she failed to do anything to stop Varys' master plan, she felt increasingly guilty. The burden on her shoulders became heavier and heavier within each passing day, as the guilt had begun to settle in her heart.
How many must we take?
To win the game of thrones? Whatever it takes, a voice whispered in the wind.
"Before you leave, there is a matter that I must urgently discuss with you," he added, as if he did not take Isabel's own threat seriously.
"And which matter is that?" she asked warily.
"Your marriage contract," he stated, "We must make your betrothal official, and when the time comes you will sail to the east and marry our young lord."
She closed her eyes and slightly cringed, as she was hoping to avoid the subject entirely. "What is his price? Ships? An Army? An heir?"
"Your dowry is a considerable asset," he agreed, "but our young lord desires unconditional loyalty, from you and your lords. In return, he'll…forgive your father's actions against his father during the Rebellion."
"Is this really the best time to be discussing these matters?" she asked rather impatiently, "any decision relating to this must be made with a clear conscience."
"It is still a decision that must be made quickly. War is coming, and it does not give us much time to sit idly anymore," he explained.
"Then you will tell your beggar king that he must wait on my decision!" she said exasperated, "Ladies should not be rushed in these matters."
In truth, Isabel was trying to avoid the marriage altogether, as her heart was somewhere else. She promised herself long ago that marriage would never be a tool in her schemes. In all the darkness and corruption that surrounded her, marriage was one desire and one chance for her own happiness.
"I will expect your decision shortly then. He is eager to meet you and marry you soon. He thinks you will make a fine queen one day," he suggested.
"What have you told him?" she asked suspiciously.
"Your beauty…your strength, and the adoration your lords hold for you. Nothing but good things, I assure you."
She closed her eyes once again, unable to find a solution to avoid this matter no longer. As much as her heart screamed to walk away, she found herself sealing her future to an arranged marriage, a powerful alliance and entering the most dangerous game that has yet to be played.
"Tell him…I look forward to the day I sail to the east and that I am most eager to look upon his face when we wed."
Isabel didn't even notice the one tear drop that escaped from her eye and fell on her cheek as she walked away from the Master of Whispers and boarded her ship.
Sacrifices must be made, the wind whispered in her ears.
Lysa Arryn was thoroughly surprised when her sister walked into the High Hall. She hadn't seen Catelyn since she married Eddard Stark during the Rebellion, and became suspicious why she decided to grace herself with her presence now. At the sight of a smaller being behind her sister was Tyrion Lannister, the one person she instantly narrowed her eyes at.
He's coming for you, a sinister voice whispered. You and your precious son…he is coming for you both.
"What are you doing here?" she asked in quivering voice.
Catelyn was shocked at the sight of Lysa Arryn, for she was no longer the youthful beauty that she remembered her by. She was told her sister grew paranoid and bitter from a loveless marriage, but could not imagine that the years had taken the greatest strain on her. She looked tired, worn out and lifeless.
Beside her was Robert Arryn, a mere boy of six and the first time Catelyn laid her eyes upon her nephew. She immediately grew concerned when she observed that Robert was so pale that his skin looked almost blue, and his cheekbones nearly popped out of his skin.
It was as if both of them had not seen the sun nor have eaten in weeks.
"I have taken Tyrion Lannister as my prisoner…to answer for the attempted murder of my son, Bran," Catelyn began.
The sight of the dwarf continued to unnerved Lysa, and soon the words of her sister became deaf upon her ears. It was as if Tyrion Lannister was whispering his thoughts into her mind, and it began to drive her insane.
I killed your husband, and now I have come for you and your son.
What a Lannister wants, a Lannister gets…and I have come to claim what is mine.
"No!" Lysa yelled out, surprising the entire room into silence, "You will not kill my son…you will not kill me!"
Tyrion gave her a confused look, unsure of what was happening anymore. "I'm a bit lost now…why would I want to kill your son? He looks like he's going to go out by himself anyways."
It wasn't the wisest thing to say, offending the Vale's Lord in a room all loyal to Robert Arryn, but sometimes Tyrion Lannister could not help it.
"Mind your words, Lannister," Lysa seethed.
She motioned for her guards to seize the dwarf, away from Catelyn's custody. "You sir are hereby charged with the murder of my husband, Jon Arryn. You'll spend your night in the sky cells tonight, and tomorrow…you'll meet your fate here through the Moon Door."
The young boy perked up at the words, and looked up with wonder and curiousity. "Are you going to make him fly mother? I want to see the little man fly!"
"Soon enough, my sweet child. Soon enough," she affectionately soothed.
"You will bring the wrath of my family to your doorsteps, lady," Tyrion warned, "Are you ready for such open warfare? Are you ready to put your son's in harms way to see me drop to my death for a crime I did not commit?"
"The Eyrie is impenetrable," she said confidently. "No one can challenge us."
"That's not what she thinks," he muttered.
"Speak up, imp! What did you say?"
"Your husband's daughter," he replied louder, "She challenges you, and from what I hear she might just win."
The fire behind her ice blue eyes ignited and she immediately stood up and yelled to the room, "That girl is not the Lady of the Vale. She will never be! And if anyone says otherwise, I will have you all go out through the Moon Door!"
Some of the lords shifted their eyes, and casted their gaze down in an effort to remain silence, while Robert began clapping at the mention of the Moon Door, ignorant of Lysa's true words. Catelyn furrowed her brows when she noticed this, but kept her thoughts to herself. She was worried for Lysa; she was not well and it was evident that her paranoia made it difficult for her to distinguish between friend and foe leading her to wonder if she saw her own sister as an enemy.
As Tyrion was forced out of the High Hall by the guards, Catelyn knelt down before Lysa and whispered, "You are not well, my dear sister. Jon's murder has made you anxious…you need rest."
"Don't tell me what to do," Lysa snapped, "I am Regent of the Vale and you are my guest. You would be wise, dear sister to not offend me while you grace my presence."
It was useless to try and reason with Lysa Arryn, for her own fears had long consumed her soul and corrupt her thoughts. Catelyn bowed slightly for offending her, and quickly thanked her before making her way back to the corridor to leave the woman that suddenly felt like a stranger to her own dark thoughts.
A/N: Enjoy :)