Chapter 20:
The few days after Isabel had woken were long and painful for her. The herbs and medicines that Maester Pycelle gave her were often bitter, but was told would heal her wound better, though the scar that would form would never fully disappear. Her voice soon returned to her, though it was low and raspy, and she had noticed the dark bruises around her neck from when her attacker's hand had grasped her throat.
A knock on the door broke the silence that Isabel was secluded to each day and night, and it startled her, sending a shock of pain into her chest at the sudden jolt of movement.
She winced, but bit her tongue from screaming out in pain. She brought her hand to her chest, nursing her wound, while she got up from her reading chair and opened the door to welcome her visitor.
It was the first time she had seen Lord Varys in private since her return to King's Landing. With every Lannister eye's monitoring her movement, Lord Varys became even more careful with his movements and made no effort to seek Isabel out.
"My Lord," she whispered, careful not to strain her recovering voice.
"I am delighted to see you all well again," he said happily. "There was a moment that we all thought you weren't going to make it."
She unconsciously narrowed her eyes at him, but Lord Varys seemed oblivious at her reaction. Isabel stood to the side and motioned him to enter her chambers and shut the door behind them.
"It brings warmth to my heart that so many people were worried about me," she said bluntly.
"You are well loved by many," he replied.
"And yet there are still those who wish to see me dead," she muttered.
"A warning, I would assume," he pondered.
"So you…don't know anything about this?" she hesitantly asked. Isabel had first thought it might have been Lord Varys that had orchestrated the entire event, for he had the most to lose if she had decided to stray from his plans. After all, he was prepared to do just about anything to ensure his ambitions were achieved.
"He wasn't one of my men," he confessed, "but definitely someone from the East."
"The Lannisters?"
"I don't think so. They wouldn't disadvantage themselves should the Vale find out you were harmed in their custody."
"Then who? Who hired the assassin?"
"Who stands to thrive in chaos?" he asked.
The name was at the tip of her tongue, but she refused to speak his name out loud. She clenched her fists in anger; appalled at the realization that only days ago, Petyr Baelish was in her room, feigning innocence and offering her sympathy. He had killed her father, and now he was after her.
What do you want from me Littlefinger?
"To what end? What does he want with me?"
"You are just another pawn to him," Lord Varys clarified, "I'm told that word has already reached the Vale and the Stark army about your condition. The Valemen ride west to join the young Lord Stark…a final push to plunge the last great house into war, and this will surely send the entire Riverlands into certain chaos"
"Then I cannot stay here," she declared, "If my men ride into war, I cannot stay here."
"You agreed to not interfere. You've done enough damage as it is. I will hold your word against you," he sternly reminded her.
"That was before Ned Stark was arrested for treason. That was before King Robert died…before Tywin Lannister kept me hostage…and before an attempt on my life was made," she challenged back, surprised that her voice felt stronger and louder.
"You knew of the risks. I warned you that people would get hurt," he reminded her.
"I will not sit idle and do nothing, while people around me are dying," she repeated. "I will leave King's Landing with or without your help. You ask me to wait patiently, and have me listen to your false promises. You ask me to seek friends across the Narrow Sea,…but where are they? Where is my army? I cannot stand in the shadows and watch my lands succumb to sickness."
"You will get your army…I don't intend to break my promises. But I urge you to wait a little longer until the timing is right. Let the chaos unfold within these lands before you enter this war."
"You give me the help I need now, or I will find my own way out of King's Landing and with one less friend," she said with firm finality.
She knew Varys all too well – she knew he would hold his cards close to his heart before making any drastic decisions. Yet sometimes, his idleness frustrated Isabel to no end.
And the time for doing nothing was long over.
"Then consider yourself alone in your endeavor. You will play the game foolishly if you think that running back to the Stark army will solidify your claim to the Vale. He cannot help you…sooner or later you will see this shortcoming. Robb Stark has his own path to follow, and it doesn't have anything to do with you or your own ambitions."
She pursed her lips tightly but held her composure. "I cannot know if I do not try."
"You will find failure, my Lady," he warned, "And when you meet that fate, I may not be able to save you from your fall."
"Sometimes I am led to think that you intend to have me fail. I know your ways all too well," she said accusingly.
"I formed this alliance to both our advantages," he stressed.
"Then give me some reassurance. An empty promise of marriage is simply not enough..though I hear your beggar king is dead...so whom am I to marry now?" she said disbelieving.
"We'll think of something else," he reassured her. Isabel however, felt suspicious of his motives and was not entirely convinced that he had shared every secret with her. It was true – Viserys Targaryen was dead, making her betrothal void. Yet, a nagging voice at the back of her mind made her doubt that she did not escape the prospects of a political marriage so easily.
Lord Varys had something else up his sleeve – and it was only a matter of time before he revealed all.
"Give me three ships," he suddenly declared.
"I can't simply give you three ships to use as you please without raising suspicions, Lord Varys. They are military ships and our fleet is commanded by the coastal lords…some whom are loyal to my brother."
"Have I taught you nothing?" he mockingly asked, "Have your little birds whisper a little lie in your lord's ears and it should ease their minds. Tell them you wish to establish new trade routes, especially to Braavos and Qarth. It's a perfectly plausible explanation, considering your ties with the Free Cities."
She silently admitted and saw reason in Varys' explanation. Still, it would draw some suspicion amongst her lords. The Vale rarely sought out trade routes directly with the Free Cities, as her father had been thoroughly suspicious of their dealings, and held bias against the slave cities. Under Jon Arryn's rule, he made sure that the Vale retained their imports from the rest of the Seven Kingdoms.
"And in return…for my ships, what shall I receive in good faith?"
He thought for a moment, when his eyes lit up. "Knowledge is my power and my best gift to you at this time."
"And pray to the Seven..what could you possibly know that will be of use to me?" she asked impatiently.
"My first little secret is Petyr Baelish. I urge you to watch your back in the coming days. He has ties to Lysa Arryn...he will use her for his own ambitions, and his meddling will make him a great enemy of yours. He knows your greatest weakness is your family, and he will use them against you. Make no mistake, Isabel..Petyr Baelish is determined to see you fall."
She took a deep breathe, finding it hard to swallow the foreboding truth that dripped in the air. "He can try. Lysa Arryn is locked up in a tower and under my constant watch…she's powerless. He won't be able to get to her."
"For now," he suggested. "You know his ways better than anyone…I would advise you to not let him out of your sight amongst your other enemies. Keep your own spiders on him, and keep two steps ahead of him. And if you keep gallanting through the Riverlands with the young wolf, raging war against the Lannisters, he will strike you from behind and wring your neck when you least suspect it. "
"I'll be careful," she said quietly, letting the words of caution sink into her heart.
"My second little secret I offer you…concerns your father," he said slowly.
"What of my father?"
"His quest to seek the truth about the Queen's children was not the only reason for his death."
"What do you mean?" Isabel asked suspiciously.
"He died...for you. It seemed that your father had plans to send your brother to be fostered in Dragonstone. A most careful move on his part to have your brother removed from his mother…and to rid him of any lingering influence from the southern courts."
"Most of the houses already regard you as your father's successor. Sending your brother to Dragonstone, especially in his health would most definitely been detrimental: the journey alone would have killed him."
"You said he died because he learnt the truth about the Queen's children."
"Someone got to him before Jamie and Cersei could...though it would have been easy to place blame on them, considering the circumstances."
Isabel fell silent and cast her eyes down, letting the tears fall on her cheeks. Her hands, now cold and sweaty began to slightly shake. It was only until now that she had begun to realize just what her father saw in her.
She was the son he never had.
"Do you now realize what's at stake? Do you want to throw everything away for him? Your father's dreams, his sacrifice, his battles? Jon Arryn saw greatness in you, Isabel. I see greatness in you. Don't give it all up."
Her heart was torn, and she felt it being pulled in a million different directions. She closed her eyes and began to see flashes of her life before her. Images of her past, her present and her future appeared before her, offering her a glimpse of two very different paths that now stood in front of her. She saw pure happiness, love and devotion in one image - a humble life, with the man she loved. Yet in another image that suddenly appeared, she saw the Lords of the Vale appear before her in High Hall, as well as her sitting amongst the small council.
Isabel Arryn had never been so conflicted in her life – and it almost brought her to tears knowing that there would be a point very soon that she would have to choose between her love of Robb Stark, and her love of her father.
Why can't I have both?
The voices in her head began to whisper. You can try little bird.
Ser Harrold Hardyng led his army of eight thousand men across the Riverlands to formally meet the Stark Army at Riverrun, a castle that was besieged by the Lannisters only weeks earlier. Word quickly spread that the Vale had joined the war as a result of the attempt on Isabel's life which was met with great reaction on both sides of the war. Only time would tell, however whether this change in the game would mean victory for Robb Stark.
The young knight approached the castle, former home of Lady Lysa Arryn and stared at it with slight awe. Ser Harrold had never really stepped foot outside of the Vale, and was slightly nervous at travelling across such unfamiliar lands. He was not well verse in the art of war and negotiation, nor was he highly regarded amongst the higher lords, which made him determined to prove his worth.
He no longer wanted to be in the shadows of the Arryns, his mother's house. Ser Harrold wanted to prove he was just as capable of being a competent leader. He could be as strong as Isabel Arryn, as loved as Isabel Arryn and as powerful as his cousin.
He was surprised that a hoist of the lords stood by the castle gate, and waited for his party to arrive. Ser Harrold had never met any of them, and was careful not to bear any pre-judgment against the young Stark. However, he was curious at what Robb Stark was really like. After all, he had managed to capture the heart of the Lady Isabel and rumours were circulating that they had once again rekindled their courtship after a broken betrothal many years ago.
"My lords," he greeted and dipped into a low bow as a sign of respect.
"Ser Harrold Hardyng of the Vale," a man in the centre replied. He was much younger than Ser Harrold, with red hair and blue eyes, and was cloaked in black and dirtied armour as if he had just returned from a long and hard battle.
"I am most grateful you have come to meet us," he continued, "These are dangerous times and our friends need to stick together."
"Lord Stark?" Ser Harrold asked in confirmation.
The younger man nodded and gave him a small, but warm smile – a sign of friendship rather than animosity. He opened his arms in a welcoming gesturing and grabbed Ser Harrold's forearms; a man's way to greet each other. Greywind, the direwolf although suspicious of the new stranger in his presence, slowly approached Ser Harrold and nudged against his thigh; a sign of acceptance into his world.
"Come," Robb stated, "We have much to discuss."
Robb Stark led the Vale Knight into the castle halls where his war council was meeting – a morning, day and nightly ritual for the Lords of the Riverlands and the Lords of the North, in an attempt to maintain one step ahead of the Lannister army.
Ser Harrold did not recognize anybody in the room, save for Ser Bryden Tully who was the Commander of the Bloody Gate. He gave Ser Harrold a curt nod before returning into deep conversation with his older brother, Ser Edmure Tully. The others, especially the lords cloaked in fur and black cloaks looked at him with suspicion. Ser Harrold could only assume they were the Northern Lords, and they made no effort to greet him.
"Your arrival, Ser Harrold lifts a great burden off my shoulders," Robb confessed.
"We are here to seek vengeance against the crime committed against our Lady," he declared. "Damn the Lannisters…they have no honour."
"And we will seek it…together."
Ser Harrold took the moment to study the young lord, and saw the desperation in his eyes. His face was worn and tired, but he saw the strength that made him keep his composure. He was just a boy, Ser Harrold decided, only a boy pretending to be his father.
How could he lead such an army?
"Have you heard any news from King's Landing?" Ser Harrold asked.
"Nothing official…only whispers and rumours. My father still lies in the dungeons, chained like a prisoner. My sisters are still held captive by the Lannisters…and Isabel…who knows whether she is alive or dead. The Lannisters are careful not to go into detail about her condition."
"Lord Nestor Royce has sent eight thousand men with me, to aide your cause," he told the young lord, "We would have sent more…but the Vale currently remains divided. Our matters at home needed his attention."
"So it's true then…Lady Isabel has laid claimed to her father's titles?" he said admiringly.
"For the time being," he admitted, "Though the council wonders how long we can hold it for her, unless she returns to us in safety. Not all of our lords are in agreement with her, and they will plot with Lady Lysa and the Lord Robert to cast her out. We dared not to call all our banner men at this time, until Lord Nestor Royce manages to negotiate some terms with them."
"Are you in agreement with Isabel?" he asked.
He thought for a moment, unsure of how to respond. The fight for the Vale was never his battle, for he had accepted long ago that it was a cause that he could never win. Nobody thought that Isabel Arryn had the courage to rebel against her step-mother. So if she could achieve such improbable obstacles, why couldn't he attempt the same ambitious dream?
It was a most treasonous thought, especially when her rule was still green and uncertain, yet it would have been an opportune moment to dare and take the Vale for himself. It certainly would solidify his worth to the entire realm. Ser Harrold quickly shook those dark thoughts out of his head, horrified at the face that he could even think of sending the Vale into further chaos.
"Lord Robert could not have ruled the Vale in the best judgment," he declared, "and his mother refused to listen to his council. Neither of them was fit to rule. The council and I agree that the Lady Isabel can lead us with a sound mind."
Robb firmly clasped his arm on Ser Harrold's forearm again and gave him a curt nod. "I will not forget the Vale's kindness. When this war is over, and victory is won, you have my word that I will fight in support for Isabel…It was her dream her entire life to sit on the throne in High Hall. I owe it to her…I owe it to us to help her in this cause."
It was as if the entire city population of King's Landing had gathered in the public square to watch Ned Stark confess his crimes. It had come to a surprise to the entire king's council and court that the former Hand of the King was ready to admit to the charges brought against him, leading Isabel to wonder who had convinced him to carry out such a foolish decision.
Now the royal family, as well as the council members and Sansa Stark stood in the middle of the public square waiting for the chain Ned Stark to admit to his crimes. It was a horrible sight for Isabel – Ned Stark looked absolutely defeated and tired. His shoulders were slouched, and his hair matte and dirty while his eyes bore such sadness when he glanced to his eldest daughter, Sansa Stark.
No child should ever have to see their father in such a defeated state, Isabel thought to herself.
She wished she could speak to Ned, but he was barred from any visitors since his arrest making it impossible for her to seek him. She looked to Sansa Stark, a girl barely fourteen summers old and had held such hope in her eyes that her father would be spared. She had bravely begged for mercy in front of the entire court, begging for her father's life which had convinced King Joffrey to agree to mercy should he admit to treason. She heard from the council itself that they would allow Ned Stark to take the Black, which they hoped would stop Robb Stark from marching further south.
It seemed like a hopeful and reasonable plan, yet there was a nagging feeling that it wasn't going to be that easy.
Isabel looked at the crowd, where the commoners had begun to denounce Ned Stark, calling him a traitor and some were even throwing scraps of food and rocks at his slouched form. Each time Ned was hit, Isabel cringed, feeling disgusted that these same people had once loved and respected the Northern Lord.
The defeated face of the wolf looked up at her and he held her gaze for a moment. There was no fear in his eyes, nor regret, though Isabel could see the sadness. He gave her a small smile and a nod, a silent gesture to the young Arryn girl of farewell, as if he knew this was his last moment in this world. It was if he was silently telling her that he would join Jon Arryn very soon.
And it made Isabel almost cry out.
She quickly looked away, blinking away the tears and instead looked onto the crowd. A small figure in the distance caught her gaze, and she felt her heart skip a beat when her eyes landed on a small form crouched on top of the pillar. Isabel squinted her eyes at the small form, and was convinced it looked like a young girl, with the same features as Arya Stark, who had not been seen since her father's arrest. She bit the bottom of her lip, unsure of what to do at that moment.
She put one hand on her head and the other on her chest and groaned, feigning discomfort at her healing wound. Cersei Lannister looked at her and gave her a suspicious glance. "The heat of the sun is not sitting well with me," she explained to her, hoping her lie would convince the Queen Regent.
Cersei Lannister said nothing to challenge her, but did not hide her displeasure towards the Arryn girl. She motioned to some members of the City Watch and instructed them to escort her back to the Castle. Isabel was still a prisoner of King's Landing, and so she had to be extra diligent in these next few moments. She cast a glance back at the pillar, and was relieved that the figure was still there, though now well-hidden behind the pillar.
"Escort the Lady directly back to the Castle," the Queen instructed.
Isabel began to make her way off the raised platform, but not before giving a meaningful glance at Petyr Baelish. They held each other's gaze for a moment before Isabel kept moving. As she stepped off the platform, and begun maneuvering away from the crowd, she held her breathe knowing that her opportune moment to escape was about to come.
They met under the blanket of stars near the godswood tree, while the entire court had entered their dream world. His small figure had easily allowed him to hide behind a column while he waited for the other party to arrive. Her figure emerged from the courtyard, her face carefully hidden behind a hood, but he knew it was Isabel Arryn, who had come to seek him in private.
He carefully emerged from his hiding spot, making sure he did not make any noise that would arouse any suspicions from the night guards. He cleared his throat to break the silence when they were within an earshot away from each other, and he immediately jumped a step back when the figure whipped around with a dagger that came dangerously close to him.
She hesitantly lowered her defense after ensuring they were completely alone and she lifted the hood, uncovering her face.
"Danger lurks in the shadows," she whispered, "You can't be too careful nowadays."
The crowd of King's Landing was silenced by King Joffrey, who had roared out that the Hand of the King was ready to confess his crimes against the Iron Throne. But Isabel was no longer focused on what was happening around her anymore. Her gazed focused on the spot where she saw Arya Stark, and was careful not to lose sight of her. She momentarily felt the presence of a least four members of the City Watch around her, with their hands on their swords.
The two figures stood apart from one another, each thoroughly suspicious of the other. King's Landing was a place of deceit and lies – nobody could be trusted.
"I'd never thought you seek my audience in such circumstances…I dare not think that you've begun to warm up to me," he mused.
"You will find me a way out of the Queen's custody and out of King's Landing,"she demanded.
"And why would I want to do that?" he asked, as a smirk formed on his face.
She fell silent, unsure of what she could have to offer him. It was almost a foolish decision for Isabel to seek Petyr's help, but she had no one else to turn to.
And yet sometimes, one's greatest enemy could become your greatest ally in times of need if the game was played right.
"Tell me," she slowly began, "It must be so dull to play this game, when you hold absolutely no power in this realm. No lands, no titles, no lineage…nothing to back up the great mind of the Master of Coin. Doesn't it ever get…frustrating? To play this game, with no rewards?"
"Perhaps I play a different game then yours," he replied, "A game that promises bigger rewards."
"I highly doubt that," she challenged. "Help me out of King's Landing…and I'll level the odds and give you a lordship."
It was a dangerous card to play, but she needed to tempt Petyr Baelish with one of his biggest desires.
"That honour is not yours to give," he noted.
"You forget I am the Lady of the Vale, not my brother. I can grant titles throughout my lands as I please. You are Petyr Baelish of the Littlefingers, are you not? Your father was a sworn house to the Eyrie. Do this for me, and you'll get your lordship. A small, but necessary step in your worldly desires."
He slightly narrowed his eyes at her in suspicion. "I like you Isabel Arryn…but I don't trust you."
"I will not stay here, like some honoured prisoner," she demanded.
"What will you do if I refuse?"
Before he could even finish his words, he felt a hand around his throat and the same dagger that came dangerously close to his eye. He gulped and held his breathe, momentarily fearing for his life.
"Do not think that I do not know how to kill a man," she threatened. "I could very well give you the same treatment that I received in the corridors those weeks ago… or perhaps I would give you the same treatment you gave my father."
"Is that a threat?"
"I'm merely returning the courtesy you bestowed towards my family," she hissed and dug the knife deeper into his skin.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"You've made a very dangerous enemy out of me Petyr Baelish."
He looked into her eyes, sensing the once innocent Lady of the Vale was now slowly being overpowered by the shadows of power and corruption. He saw raw desperation in her eyes, he saw determination and fire in her eyes, and he saw the hunger for power in her eyes. For a mere moment, he did not recognize the Arryn girl, but instead saw the demons that haunted his own mind and soul in front of him.
Power corrupts the soul, he said to himself.
"I will hold you to your word," he said slowly. "Should you dare betray my trust, do not think for one moment I won't tear off your wings and let you fall to your death."
"You can try."
"You greatly underestimate my ability, Isabel Arryn. You have no idea just how powerful I am…none of you really do."
The game was played, and their moves were made.
The crowd began the push and pull in all directions, making it difficult for Isabel to walk properly. The members of the City Watch began to push the crowd away from her, and they became distracted amongst the growing rowdiness of the public square. Isabel looked around, looking for the supposed signal that Petyr Baelish promised and began to doubt whether he would fulfill his promise to her.
A large man, engulfed in a heavy cloak caught her sight and he nodded to her, warning her to be vigilant and ready to make her escape.
"Through the main gates?" she said in disbelief. "Would it not be easier to leave by the ships?"
"Stannis Baratheon is monitoring the coasts, and has his sell swords raiding every ship coming in and out of King's Landing. The risk is far greater by sea. You will leave through the main city gates."
"You expect me to simply walk through the gates unnoticed? Every guard in King's Landing knows my face and my name."
"Tomorrow is the only time where you will be allowed out of the castle walls because of Ned Stark's declaration of treason. The city will be chaotic and the City Watch will have their hands full at controlling the crowd. It will be easy for you to slip through the cracks…especially if your escape has been prearranged with dragon's gold."
"A Master of Coin, indeed."
"Cersei Lannister is not the only one with men employed within the City Watch."
A roar in the crowd caught the City Watch's attention and what immediately followed was a blur for Isabel. The crowd became more aggressive, and she struggled to maintain balance and found herself almost falling to the ground at times. All of a sudden, she felt a rough hand grab her wrist and yank her to the floor and the crowd above her seemed to engulf her figure and the members of the City Watch tasked to escort her disappeared from her sight.
"Get up!" a voice yelled.
She looked up and saw the same man in the large cloak and assumed that he was the man Petyr Baelish had sent. He pulled her across the ground before pulling her up roughly and pushed her through the crowd. She winced at the pain, and could feel the stitches on her chest begin to tear. But she bit her tongue to prevent her from crying out. The man pushed her head below the crowd, so that was completely hidden from sight.
Soon, a large roar emerged, and yells and screams soon engulfed the public square, but Isabel could not see what had happened as the man's hand kept her head down. She grabbed his hand, and looked at him square in the eye. "We have to go back," she pleaded, "There's someone in the crowd that we need to take with us."
"Lord Baelish said only you," he roughly replied.
She tried to fight back, and she struggled to turn her head back to the pillar where she last spotted Arya Stark. Her heart sank in disappointment, when the figure was no longer there. Her eyes then caught the sight of the ax that was rising about Ned Stark's head, and she could only look in horror at what was about to happen. The cold steel reflected the sun's rays brightly, and with one quick motion, it met its target and took the head of Ned Stark.
"No!" she yelled out. But her screams were engulfed by the crowd, and she felt helpless that no one could hear her.
"We go now," the man once again said and he pulled her away.
She felt the adrenaline through her veins, and her heart pounding on her chest, making the pain even more unbearable. The man shoved her roughly behind a stall, and the strength at which he pushed her made her stumble and she fell to the floor, unable to maintain her balance.
He looked at her with hunger and lust, which made Isabel nervous. But instead of drawing a dagger, he threw a cloak and some garments at her.
"You can't be walking through the gates like some highborn lady," he said in an accented tongue. "Quickly now, there isn't much time."
She inspected the clothing, which was completely too big for her, though said nothing to show her disproval. She waited for him to turn around, but he did no such thing and just continued to stare at her. She hesitantly turned around, making no fuss about the situation and obediently put the black tunic over her head, and put the black breeches underneath her skirts. She took the dagger that she now kept with her at all times and cut her dress off her body, and she let it fall to the floor. After placing the dagger safely in the boots that he gave her, she then put the heavy cloak on, its weight making Isabel slouch over.
He then placed a worn metal helmet that was too big for her, on her head and tucked the loose strands of her hair into her cloak. The man crouched down and grabbed some mud and sand from the floor and smeared it all over her face before roughly pushing her back out into the streets and gave her an ax and a short dagger to put on her belt.
"Follow closely. And say nothing," he instructed.
She followed the other man, like a child following its mother and together they maneuvered through the crowds and streets of King's Landing. Isabel purposefully kept her head down, but she could not help but feel scared and anxious every time they passed by a member of the City Watch, thinking they could see through her disguise.
They quickly reached the Main City Gate, which led to King's Road. It was heavily patrolled by not only the City Watch, but hired sellswords and Lannister men. Everybody coming in and out of the King's Landing was questioned, and their belongings searched before they were given leave to carry out their business. Isabel assumed that word had already spread on her disappearance, and that the security around the City's Gate would be heightened, and making her escape even more difficult.
As they approached the guards, she unconsciously hid behind the stranger and deliberately kept her head down; in the case they had recognized her.
"We leave on Tywin Lannister's orders," he explained and pulled out a parchment letter from underneath his cloak, which Isabel could only assumed was forged by Petyr Baelish.
The guards took the letter from him with slight suspicion, and read its contents.
"What does the Lord of Casterly Rock want with a sellsword like you?" he asked suspiciously.
"That's between myself and Lord Tywin," he stressed.
"Who's the lad behind you?" the guard asked.
"My son," he bluntly said, "A mute."
Isabel's heart skipped a beat and the guard looked directly at her, as if he was trying to remember if he had seen her before. She cast her head down and bit the inside of her cheek to make sure that she made no sound.
"A useless mute," he added before he lightly hit the back of Isabel's helmet. She glared at him, and her gaze was only met with a hidden amused smirk, Still, she said nothing and kept her head down and prayed they would not be caught.
"Get on with your business then," the guard finally said and waved them away.
It seemed almost too easy, but she dared not let her breathe escape her lips as they walked past the gate. It was only until they were well away from King's Landing that she allowed her self to relax and let out a huge sigh. She turned around, looking back at capital, which was now a disappearing sight on the horizon line.
She was free now; safe for the time being – and one step closer to her army, Robb Stark, and her destined fate.
A/N: Sorry for the long wait...so I give you a long chapter. :) xoxo