Chapter 22:
There were voices whispering above her, and she struggled to listen to their conversations. She tried to open her eyes, but every muscle in her body ached and felt as heavy as lead. She tried to move her head and scream, but no sound came out and each moment was met with a pounding headache.
"She's awake!" called out a voice that sounded like a young boy.
"Careful! Don't move her! She looked like she took quite a tumble," yelled the other.
"You think the man chasing her will find us?" ask another, whose voice sounded familiar to Isabel's ears.
"If we stay here any longer, he might," replied another older boy.
"Well we can't just leave her! Look at her…she's like an angel…I've never seen someone so beautiful."
"Quit your day-dreaming Hot Pie! She'd never marry you."
The boys began to wrestle each other, and a fight broke out beside her. The noise made Isabel's head spin and she groaned out in pain. She slowly opened her eyes despite her body screaming for her to stay still and rest. Her vision was blurry and the sudden light that seared through her lids made her eyes blink quickly in an effort to focus in on her surroundings.
A figure was hovering above her, and the large dark eyes bore into her own. The hair masked most of her face, but Isabel could instantly recognize the Northern features of the person who was inches near her face. She opened her mouth to say her name, but Isabel was quickly cut off by her.
"My name's Arry" she mumbled quickly.
"You're…a..ali-" she began to mutter in disbelief, but Arya worried eyes made Isabel stop mid-sentence.
Isabel was confused, but Arya gave her a pleading look and darted her eyes towards the group of boys who had now fallen silent in front of the conscious Isabel. She silently echoed the word, 'no' with her lips and immediately, Isabel understood Arya's intended meaning.
"Where am I?" Isabel groggily asked and she turned to the rest of the boys who remained silently still.
The eldest one was carrying a bull's helmet and nudged his younger counterparts to shake them out of their daze. She turned back to Arya, and patiently waited for an answer.
"We found you by the stream…well Gendry did," Arya told her, "Your ankle was badly injured, and you have cuts and bruises everywhere… and you were hallucinating. There was a man chasing you before you slipped and fell..."
"Hallucinating?"
"Yea…" Gendry added, "You called me Robb."
Isabel's gaze remained fixated on Arya and studied the younger girl's emotions carefully. She saw the worry in her eyes, but she also saw there was a great amount of courage and strength in the young Stark that kept her emotions hidden behind a well-conceived mask.
"Who was he? The sellsword?" asked another boy.
"I don't know," she answered truthfully. "...everybody is an enemy during war."
"How come you were alone?" asked Arya.
"It's a long story." she said tiredly, "What about you?"
Isabel looked warily at the group of misfit children, all slightly older than Arya. The eldest, was a young man only known as Gendry who was no more than seventeen summers old. He held his bull helmet tightly underneath his arm, and his face as blackened by the dirt and grime. His eyes were dark, and held a penetrating gaze at Isabel.
"Night's Watch – we're all headed for the Wall," Gendry replied, "Except we were ambushed a few nights ago by Lannister men…we barely escaped for our lives. Our guide...Yoren died protecting us."
"Did you come from King's Landing?" Arya asked in a hurry, cutting Gendry off rather abruptly.
"I did," Isabel admitted, before sharing a sad glance at Gendry, "I knew the man you call Yoren…I'm sorry that he's gone."
There was a sad look in Arya's eyes and Isabel thought for a brief moment that she saw a few tears forming in the young girl's eyes. Neither of them dared to bring the beheading of Ned Stark up, instead it was an unspoken sentiment that hung in the air between the two young women.
"How did you escape?" the young Stark girl asked quietly.
"I had an unlikely savior," Isabel spat bitterly, as the image of Petyr Baelish popped up in her mind.
She shuffled her feet, testing what strength she had left and let out a small cry at the pain that shot up her leg. Isabel could feel her ankle throbbing, and cursed herself for getting herself in such a predicament. The sellsword from Volantis was still roaming the forest, looking to kill her and she felt like a lame lamb, with nowhere to escape.
"We never got your name…my Lady," Gendry hesitantly asked, and Isabel was quick to note the slight shade of pink that had developed in his cheeks the moment he asked. His courteousness earned some chuckles and giggles with the younger boys, but a quick punch in the arm had immediately silenced them.
"I am no Lady," she quickly lied.
In times like these, Isabel knew it was best to give as little information about herself to strangers. They may have been accompanying Arya in her escape, but she was still reluctant to put too much trust in these unfamiliar faces.
"Forgive me, but your hands give it all away," he replied and gestured to them which had now been caked in dirt and mud. "They are no black smith's hands, or the hands of a seamstress, or a farmer's wife. Even under all that dirt..they are as smooth as glass and silk."
She let out a small chuckle and tilted her head in acknowledgement of his cleverness and admitting her own defeat. "You have a keen eye."
"I am a black smith…it is my craft to pay attention to such detail," he said bashfully before letting out a small chuckle.
A noise in the distance cut off their conversation and the entire group looked in the same direction, fearful of what lurked behind the trees. Isabel held her breathe and suddenly felt her heart race again. She was beyond the point of exhaustion and did not know how much longer she could go on running before her legs would collapse. Gendry and Isabel looked at one another, each thinking the same horrid thought.
"Can you walk?" asked Arya suddenly, recognizing the growing tension around her.
Isabel proceeded to move her entire body and struggled to pull her weight off the ground. Not wanting to cry out in pain, she bit her tongue each time the sharp throb shot up her body. As she slowly steadied herself, the pain slightly subsided and it took every strength and ounce of determination to fight it. It wasn't unbearable, but she knew it would certainly slow the group down.
"Leave me," she suddenly instructed.
They all looked at her with disbelief and amongst all the cries and objection, but it was Arya that looked at her intently and knew what Isabel meant.
She owed it to Ned Stark to give Arya the chance the live just a little longer and to give her the chance to fight in the name of honour and vengeance.
"We won't leave you," said Gendry, "You can barely walk, let alone fight!"
"They aren't after you," she challenged.
Gendry opened his mouth but stayed quiet, choosing not to argue anymore. It felt as if he expected men to be chasing after him and Isabel suspected that he too had dark secrets that he wanted to keep hidden. Isabel gave a wary glance to Arya and she knew instantly that she too had fears that they were chasing after her.
It seemed like everybody had secrets to keep, and someone was trying to kill them for it.
"You said yourself everybody's an enemy out here…those may be hedge knights looking for a good loot. Those men could be Lannisters, the Gold Cloaks, or your assassin. It won't matter if you're a highborn lady or not. You're coming with us," Gendry pleaded.
"And you all risk certain death should you stay with me. I'll only slow you down," she objected. "You still all have a chance at living…you're young, you have a fire still burning in you that wills you to keep surviving. So go! Leave! Run!"
The noise grew louder and there was little time to argue any further. She gave Arya a nudge to motion her to start running.
"Go!" Isabel yelled again, "There isn't any time!"
"Isabel…" Arya whispered to her, afraid of mentioning her name.
"Run!" she yelled again and desperately fought back the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes. "Please...you need to go now."
"I won't leave you," cried Arya.
"You listen to me," Isabel said and grabbed Arya's arms, "You'll get your chance to fight back one day…I know you will. But that day won't happen until you're ready to confront your enemies. Until then, I need you to keep running. You owe it to your father to keep fighting!"
"Aren't you afraid?"
"All the time," she admitted sadly.
Reluctantly, Arya slowly retreated back to the group and tugged on their tunics to motion for them to move. They all held conflicted looks, but Arya was quick to reassure them to keep moving. The dragonglass amulet, hidden underneath Arya's tunic reflected the sun's ray momentarily as Arya began running, and it gave Isabel a sense of relief that the young girl still wore it.
Protect her, she whispered to herself.
She slowly limped to a well-hidden spot behind some bushes and stayed perfectly still, waiting for whatever enemy to emerge from the shadows. The clashes of steel soon erupted through the leaves, causing the birds to fly away. Isabel held her breathe as she felt the ground and soil had begun to vibrate because of the heavy foots that soon pounded on the earth.
"They can't be far," roared a voice.
"Are you sure they went this way? Damn little bastards! I swear I'm gonna kill them!"
"Don't be stupid. The tracks lead in this direction…they were headed for the wall; they've no where else to go but North. We'll find them, don't you worry," the voice sneered.
"I'm gonna pluck them out…limb by limb" snickered another voice.
Their laughter rang through Isabel's ears and she bit her tongue to keep herself from making any sort of noise. She was armed with only a small dagger and ax, and she could not yield either properly in the event that she was forced to fight off the men.
The noise slowly began to the die down, before realizing that the party had decided to move on, leaving her alone in the forest. However, she dared not move her from her spot, afraid they were only simply hiding and waiting for her to come out like a lame lamb.
She clutched tightly at the hilt of her dagger and hugged her herself until exhaustion overcame her once more.
I am not afraid of anything, she kept whispering to herself.
Yet no matter how many times she kept telling herself that, the fear within her grew ever larger with each passing moment and she began to realize just how truly dangerous this game really was.
"He did what?"
"He let her go," he clarified, unfazed by his counter party's reaction.
Cersei Lannister was beyond furious, and it deepened the hatred she already had for her youngest brother.
"How can you be so sure it was him?"
"I trust my sources," Petyr Baelish merely stated. He was careful not to overstep his boundaries this time with the Queen. Only a few days earlier did she dutifully remind him of his place within the court.
Power is power.
The words still haunted him and it made him even more determined to prove his own worth.
Knowledge is power, he said to himself.
"Isabel Arryn was the one thing we needed to keep within our reach to prevent the Vale from entering this war., Varys may as well have handed Joffrey's throne to her!" she yelled in a fury.
"A minor disadvantage, but I don't believe it's a total defeat," he mused.
It was all too easy to pinpoint Isabel's escape on her half-friend, half-ally. As sly as the Master of Whispers was, sometimes Petyr Baelish could be twice as conniving as him. He knew Varys would neither deny or confirm his accusations against him – Varys was careful to maintain a neutral stance between houses, but Petyr Baelish had his suspicions.
"Enlighten me, Lord Baelish. We are losing our pawns – Arya, Ned and now Isabel. What else do we have against them?"
"Your Grace forgets that the Vale still stands currently divided," he dutifully reminded her, "There are those that will oppose her, if given the opportunity."
"And these lords…are they our friends? Or our enemies?" Cersei slyly answered, but remained unconvinced.
"Give any man a few hundred gold dragons, and they'll be crawling to you like children," Petyr knowingly replied. "Support her brother's claims and you will divide their forces in half, and at the very least level the war once again. Give back Robert Arryn and his mother the Vale…and you may rid of Isabel Arryn altogether."
"And…you can do this? Are you sure?"
"There are those who write to me pleading for help and support, in the name of Lysa Arryn. Our little bird has locked her brother and step-mother away in a tower…this may be her answer to all her troubles…and the solution to yours. If Isabel Arryn chooses to ride out for Robb Stark, she rides out with half her bannermen. The other half…well, they're biding their time."
Cersei pursed her lips. She was getting desperate lately and even more paranoid ever since word had spread that her father had suffered a huge defeat from the Stark army. Her brother's fate was still yet unknown, and the leverage they had against the other houses were dwindling. Isabel Arryn would have been a great tool to use against Robb Stark, and for a short period of time it had prevented the Vale from calling their banners. But since her attack, it gave enough cause to turn the war's tide and now Robb Stark's army gradually increased, proving to be a formidable threat to the Lannister forces.
Power was her only ambition, and she would do anything to keep it. Cersei Lannister was done playing politics with Isabel Arryn. She was done playing a game of shadows with the Arryn girl. The wrath of the lioness was unleashed – she was done playing nice. In Cersei's eyes, Isabel Arryn deserved to be punished.
"Then you shall write to the young Lord Robert and his mother and extend a hand of friendship," she demanded.
"And what does the Iron Throne offer the true Lord of the Vale?" he asked.
"In return for absolute fealty and service…Joffrey will recognize Robert Arryn as the true Lord of the Vale, and we will charge Isabel Arryn and all those who support her with treason. Those who choose not to bow to my son...will be executed, their lands pillaged, their women raped and their children hung. And should you carry out this task with due success, Lord Baelish…I will ensure that our true king will have you rightfully rewarded."
Petyr could only bow in a low curtesy without giving away his triumphant smile that now appeared on his face.
His moves were made – now it was only a matter of time before the game changed once again.
The sun had started to rise from the horizon when Isabel decided it was safe to move from her spot, still hidden behind the bushes. She had not moved since she parted with Arya and her party, nor had she dared to fall asleep.
And she didn't think she could go on for much longer.
It had been days since she last had a proper meal or fresh water. Her body was weak, bruised, blistered, and broken and every movement she made felt extremely painful. What strength and hope she had left was now gone – she didn't even know how far from King's Landing she had travelled. She could still have been in the Crown lands, or in the forests of Riverrun.
Isabel felt hopelessly defeated.
She slowly dragged her feet and willed her body to move forward to find some fresh water. Her hand still clutched the dagger she now possessed and promised herself to never let it go, should another attempt on her life should happen.
The sounds of running water perked her senses up and almost immediately she changed directions and quickened her pace. Isabel broke out of the trees and found herself staring at a small stream and felt her throat tightened, begging Isabel to quench its thirst.
She wasted no time and Isabel practically flung herself to the ground and cupped the cold liquid in her hands and brought it to her dry lips.
The water felt refreshing and it sent a shiver through her skin, and resurged her senses. It gave her a necessary energy boost and a renewed sense of strength, convincing her body and mind that she could keep fighting.
Isabel's hair was suddenly pulled back and she screamed out loud, cutting the silent forest with a sharp shriek.
"Well well well…look what we found here boys. Aren't you a pretty little flower," a low voice sneered.
The man gripped her hair with such force that she stumbled back and fell on the floor, dropping her dagger that now had laid a few feet away from her. The man forced her to turn around and she could only gaze into his menacing brown eyes. He bore no sigil, no armour and no great sword, leaving Isabel to think he was a poor hedge knight, a sellsword, or just a bandit looking for some good loot.
The rest of his party joined in behind him, and the remainder of them stood by the tree line and only looked on and laughed at her. They were all tattered soldiers, dressed in dirtied armour with their sigils scratched off, as if they had all forsaken their vows. Isabel failed to recognize any of them, and a dark feeling sank to the bottom of her stomach.
"What's a little lady like you doing in such a dangerous place? No one to protect you…no one to hear you scream." he mockingly asked her, caressing her face.
She lunged forward in an effort to run away, but the man only pulled on her hair again and brought her back to her knees once more. Isabel reached up and grabbed his wrist and used every ounce of her strength and dug her nails into and skin and scratched them like a feline cat.
It was a pitiful effort, but she felt the man loosen his grip and it was enough for her to wriggle her way out. Immediately she bolted to the dagger which was lying on the floor, but her fingers could only graze the steel before she was dragged back down to the floor again.
She let out another piercing scream, before the man forced her on her back and now towered over her.
"Quiet, little one," he threatened. "Do you know who we are? Hmm?"
Isabel whimpered and let out a small cry in protest, which only made her assailant chuckle.
"We're outlaws, you see…plucked from our honour as knights and condemned to a life of pillaging in the forests. Damn the Lannisters…damn all the great houses who piss on their chairs and drink their wine, while the common folk are near starving."
He placed his hand on her face to remove the hair that stuck to the sweat and grime of her skin, and roughly caressed her cheek. He opened his mouth and smiled, revealing a rather grotesque set of yellowing teeth and a stench of bad breathe.
"Ahh..even under all that soot, I know who you are," he said amusingly. "You'd fetch a pretty price…"
She widened her eyes, wondering if he was telling the truth, or merely playing a cruel mind game. She looked at her only hope and she reached out to grab her dagger, but was only a fingernail shy of grasping it fully. Isabel yelled out in frustration, suddenly angry at herself for ever getting herself in this situation.
The cold northern wind suddenly picked up and it prickled her exposed skin. The howls swirled around her, and in her deluded state she swore to the Seven that she heard voices around her.
Fight back, little bird, the voices whispered.
It gave her enough strength to reach out once more and she cried out when her fingers finally wrapped around the hilt of the cold steel. Its touch ignited a fire within her and within seconds she stabbed the blade into the man's shoulder, before he got any further.
He yelled out in pain and his weight came off her body in an instant. She was quick to pull out the blade from his flesh and she crawled back a few feet, completely unsure of what to do next.
The other men whose laughter now died out unsheathed their own swords and made their way to her, ready to kill her for harming their brother in arms.
"You damn bitch!" the man yelled, "When I'm through with you, you may well as call yourself the whore of Westeros!"
A large and ferocious growl erupted in the air, sending all the birds to flee the area. The other men stopped in their tracks, unsure of what beast now threatened their surroundings. Isabel's own body shook in fear, but she was careful not to let her guard down and kept her gaze at the men in front of her.
The roar erupted again, but this time it sounded angrier and louder, indicating it was fast approaching them.
"What the seven hells was that?" asked of the men.
"Probably just a wolf…it'll make a nice meal later. Come on…get the girl. The sooner we have her in chains, the sooner we can sell her off!"
"That is no wolf," she found herself saying to them.
"The bitch speaks," the man mockingly said.
"You will watch your tongue," she threatened, "Or I will cut it out."
The men could only laugh at her and ignored her seemingly empty threat. They motioned each other to surround her, so she had no way of escaping again. Isabel gripped her dagger even tighter, and her breathe quicken as they inched closer and closer around her.
"Little girls shouldn't play with swords."
The growl of the beast was now dangerously close to the tree line, and the branches and leaves now rustled, showing his movements. Her eyes darted towards the forest and she closed her eyes, praying to whatever gods could hear her for her greatest wish possible.
The beast suddenly leaped through the air and into the opening, and growled at the men, as if they were prey. She wasted no time and she ran past the men as she saw the direwolf now pouncing up in the air again, ready attack the group of men.
Through the screams, growls and cries, she dared not look back at what massacre was happening but knew deep in her heart that it was a sign from the gods that her prayers had been answered.
A force behind her suddenly sent her flying forward and her face connected with the ground. She felt a cut open on her cheek and the slight stinging sensation that followed.
"I'll kill you if it's the last thing I do," the man menacingly whispered to her.
He wrestled her until he hovered over her again and he gripped his hands around her throat and tightened them in an effort to completely rob Isabel of her breathe. She gasped for air and quickly used her hands to feel around her for the weapon that once again disappeared from her.
This time, it was well within her reach, and in the man's desperation to end her life, he had failed to notice the blade that now went through his neck.
His eyes bulged out and his tongue fell out, shocked at the blade that now was embedded in his throat. His hands remained around Isabel's neck, and she pried his fingers off her skin, to loosen his grip and welcome the fresh air again. The blood, which now poured out of the man's neck dripped on to Isabel's face and down her own arm, coating his murder and death on her skin.
The next time you kill a man, there will be no fear, the voiced whispered in her head.
She slowly pushed him off her, until he lied on the ground beside her. The man, now choking in his own blood only looked at her with fear and horror, and his eyes were now begging her for a merciful quick death.
But instead of granting him his one last living wish, she merely stared at him and did nothing. She became mesmerized by the blood that poured out of his body, and watched his breathe slowly leave him, until he became completely still and silent.
"There is no mercy in war," she distantly whispered to herself.
A deep huff of air tingled at the back of her neck and she slowly turned around, only to be inches away from the direwolf's mouth. She held her breathe, afraid of the great beast that had grown to nearly twice its size. He showed his teeth to her and growl at her as if her was testing Isabel, as his nose sniffed the fresh blood that dripped from her skin.
I am not afraid, she told herself.
Isabel was suddenly startled when the direwolf bowed his head down at her and began to lick the blood off her hand, as a sign of acceptance and familiarity.
It brought instant relief to her and she gave the beast an affectionate pet and she cried out for the very first time, letting the tears of joy, sadness and fear overcome her.
Movement within the trees behind her brought her guard back up again and she whipped around with her dagger at hand, ready to defend herself once more.
Isabel felt her knees falter and what little strength she had now completely left her, sending her entire body to collapse on the floor. She brought her hand to cover her mouth, in an effort to muffle her cries.
She was instantly engulfed in his furs, and the warmth of his body made her feel safe once more. She looked up at him, and touched his face, unsure if she was hallucinating again, due to her deprived state.
He wiped the hair, dirt and blood off her face and placed a hundred affectionate kisses on her brow and forehead and tightly held her in his arms, not ever wanting to let her go.
"This is a dream," she cried out, "You can't be real…you can't be here."
"Shhh…" he soothed and he petted the back of her head to comfort her shaking body.
"This is a dream," she deliriously repeated.
"This is no dream Isabel," he whispered to her. "I'm here. I'm real…you're safe now."
He picked her up with little effort, surprised at how light she was and began to worry about her deteriorating state. He noted the large amount of blood that was on her as well as the torn tunic she wore which barely concealed the festering wound on her collarbone. Her body was shaking uncontrollably, the cold air now penetrating through her skin and robbing her of warmth. He had to get her to a warm bed and to their army's healer, afraid that whatever strength she willed herself to keep alive was now dying out.
But she was safe now, and that's all that mattered. Isabel Arryn was back in his arms, back in his life and he promised himself that nobody would tear them apart again.
Damn them all.
A/N: Ahhhhh! Our little bird and young wolf finally meet at last! Thanks for waiting so patiently...I know it took quite a long time, but I think it was worth it! But will their happy reunion be torn apart by our on-going war? Stay tuned! xoxo