Lysa I

A horse neighed and buckled as arrows were loosed at the snaking procession of vans. Dozens of Tully men-at-arms hastily assembled and formed a shield wall. They tried to look for their assailants, but struggled as both sides of the road were occupied by a mass of sprawling trees that seemingly stretched to the ends of the world.

The chaos allowed a young girl to slip away from her carriage. She grabbed a mare and reined her in. She willed the horse to gallop away through the copse of trees when suddenly an arrow struck her mount causing the mare to rear. The girl struggled to hold on to the reins and fell. A group of rag-wearing brigands looked at their prey. They laughed as they got their prize worthy of a substantial ransom. She noticed they had no faces, but she was sure they leered at her. When they reached out, a thick fog spontaneously engulfed the faceless men as their bodies turned to ash and then disappeared.

Her vision instantly changed. She recognised the interior. The stacks of books and scrolls towered to the sky. The smell of ink and old dusty tomes immediately gave her a relieving gust of nostalgia. She peeked across the bookshelf and noticed a boy. A boy she instantly recognised as she stopped hiding behind the shelf.

“Ah! Lysa, how are you? Do you need help with your lessons?” Ever serious and ever dutiful, he always made time for her. From teaching her numbers and letters and, to her father’s dismay, teaching her how to ride a horse and sail. She remembered fondly the times she snuck out with her sister and foster brother. To frolic in the bountifully green meadows of the Riverlands. To sail down the Trident catching trouts and salmon. He treated her differently when other boys expected her to sew and gossip, he expected her to excel and thrive. ‘To learn the ways of the world,’ he always said for which she abided by resolutely. The red-haired girl reached out to him but panicked as her hands came through him. She screamed and pleaded with him to not go but, just like his father, her wishes were ignored as her mentor turned to ash and disappeared.

Her vision changed again. An area she remembers so well; is associated with a memory branded into her mind. The boy she looked up to. A boy she admired due to his wit, intelligence and open-mindedness broke her heart. To see him publicly proclaim his love for her sister, to openly ask for her hand in marriage caused her to stare listlessly as she saw her prince charming get cut down by the northern brute. Something deep inside her heart caused her to smile at his downfall. But she banished it out of her mind as she ran towards the boy, as the savage brought his sword down to his neck. Tears streamed down her eyes again, as she relived this tragedy.

She realised with growing horror that she wasn’t about to get there in time. To see her one-sided soulmate, slip away in front of her. She couldn’t save him. She ran and ran in a vain hope of stopping the brute. To her relief and immense frustration, her sister stepped in and stopped the man from killing her lover.

Her sister. Her perfect sister. Always the lady. She was better than her at everything from sewing to stewardship. Her father favoured her sister greatly, basking her in love, whereas he would barely cast a glance towards her.

Years of resentment kept piling up as her jealousy grew and grew. She knew it was wrong. Jealousy and coveting after your siblings was a sin in front of the Seven. She prayed day and night in the Sept and sobbed her confessions to the Septon. It would work eventually, and she was able to find an accord with her sister and from there a beautiful friendship blossomed between the two siblings.

But the sight of her sister stealing her lover and saving him broke her. She gulped and ran away towards her room. She cried for hours as she pushed her pillows to her face in an effort to muffle her wailing. She started to suffocate and instead of pulling the pillows away, she tightened it into her. I just wish I never existed. To be gone from this world. Perhaps that’ll get everyone to notice me more. Only through fainting did she survive.

Her vision changed again. This time in a room where her wounded sweetheart was lying down in a bed. She changed his bandages and cleaned him and occasionally took parting glances at his body. She hid her blush as she continued with her job. She nursed him for days as he slept. He slept for a week without waking up.

It was a routine day, she came into his room and started to clean him and reapplied his bandages. Then her lover opened his eyes and shakily sat up. “It’s y-you!” The young man gestured for her to come closer. She was surprised when he gently tugged at her hair. His arms trembled as he slicked her hair back. “Your hair is beautiful.” He then grasped at the back of her ear eliciting a yelp from the girl.

The girl didn’t know what to do. She blushed and quickly got up and turned towards the door and was about to run only to be stopped by him reaching for her dress. “Please don’t go!” He groggily said as his head started to sway.

She was glad he was starting to take notice of her. Hope swelled from her chest as he was starting to notice her unrequited love. She slowly came to him and without hesitation, he pulled her close to him and kissed her. The girl felt elated as the kissing progressed to stripping.

She’s never felt this good in her entire life.

The boy pulled her down and laid on top of her.

They embraced each other for what seemed like hours.

“Cat, you’re so beautiful today.” Then he quickly lost energy and sagged back down and fell asleep.

The girl ignored that and simmered in her satisfaction. But eventually, the impact of what he said made her stomach twist and she started to wail, causing the man beside her to turn to ash and disappear.

The environment started to change but strangely, her vision didn’t change. She remained in the room where she lost her maidenhead. She peered over the window and noticed the sun rising and falling. The stars flew across the sky as comets streaked through the air. She looked down and noticed the speed of activity. The people were moving fast fulfilling their tasks at impossible speed. She now realised that time was being sped up as she clutched her swelling stomach. Numerous feelings threatened to emerge, but she mostly felt pride. Pride that she took the seed of the man she loved. The seed that will seal his and her lives together.

She should’ve realised it wasn’t that simple. She was naïve. Innocent of how the world functioned. Her house’s words were ‘Family, Duty and Honour’ and in that order. So, why then did her father shun and ignore her. Loud expletives of vitriol were spurred against her. The Tullys were meant to be about Family first so then why then did her father do all these things? She would never know but as her belly swelled even further, her father decided to ignore her altogether. This brought lasting relief as her motherly instinct prompted her to caress her baby. And his baby. She recalled a vague feeling – a hunch that the baby was a boy. She was about to have him confirmed but the maester ignored her. Pointless excuses were given but it all came to her in the end – her father was responsible. Courtiers, servants and even the maester whose sole job was to oversee the health of the family ignored her.

But it didn’t matter. She had that man’s seed growing in her belly. Her sweet ‘Robin’. Once she marries him, everything would be alright.

Then the war came. The Targaryen heir kidnapped the northern brute’s sister leading to his death as well as his father. Inciting a rebellion.

It didn’t matter. She didn’t care. Her sweet Robin was growing nice and big.

One day the young lord Stark and a decrepit old man, came to visit Riverrun. With a massive army.

It didn’t matter. She didn’t care. That was her father’s problem to solve, not hers. She recalled her father’s face paling at the sight.

A series of strange events happened, and her father invited her to break their fast together. Invited her to come sup with him. Invited her to dinner. The girl, for the first time in months, was glad her father started to accept her and her baby. Perhaps this was a turning point in their turbulent relationship. Oh, how wrong she was.

She remembered it all. She wanted to rip her hair out for her naivety. Why was she a fool to ever trust her father? She anguished as she was forced to relive her memory again. She vomited and had the urge to empty her vowels as gas built up inside her. She tried to ask for the maester’s help but she was turned away from his door. The next morning, she awoke to a horrifying sight. Coagulated blood littered her bedsheets slightly covering an umbilical cord. No. This isn’t happening. Did I miscarry? No! It’s his seed! Robin must be alive!

She scooped the foetus and gently propped its head. “There, there. Everything is going to be fine.” She carried it to her father’s solar and presented the newborn to her father. His father looked shocked and immediately covered his mouth as he gagged. She noticed someone else was inside. A man whose considerably older than her father, and whose old enough to be her grandfather. The man tensed as he jerked his head back but was quick to smile at her. She noticed he was missing a few teeth and a foul-smelling odour emanated from his mouth.

Troubled and uneasy, his father shoved her out and bid the maester to look after the ‘baby’.

She would later learn that her own father poisoned her drink with moon tea. Doing the dastardly betrayal with a smile too. All to prove to the world she was untouched – a true virgin maiden. All to sell her like a mare to an influential lord. Then to add to her disgust, she was betrothed to the elderly man she met in her father’s solar. A man older than her father. A man with rotting teeth and horrible breath.

Their daughter-father bond snapped like a twig. They argued day and night until her father put a stop to it. “It’s your duty to marry him! To secure a long-lasting alliance between the Vale and the Riverlands! You will marry him on the same day as Catelyn marries the Stark boy.”

But she thought family comes before duty. She wanted to lash out but the Seven teaches that women must have restraint - to be silent. And so, she kept her mouth shut as she listlessly pointed her eyes to the ceiling. She stared at the ceiling for an eternity until it vanished into shredded ash.

She felt a searing pain in her groin and thighs as she clawed at her parched throat. The last thing she remembered was falling off her horse and running. She ran and ran. And for better mobility, she ripped her satin blue gown. Lysa examined her surroundings and she realised she was moving. She turned her head and noticed hay covering both her sides. She slowly got up.

“Lass, ye looked pretty beaten up. Got in a scuffle with one o’ those bandits?”

Lysa jerked her head up and noticed a man driving the carriage. He wore a plain grey tunic with a straw hat covering his head. She was about to say something but instead motioned for her throat.

“Oi! Missy! The lass needs a drink!”

“On it, papa.” A girl, roughly her age, came up to her and offered a wineskin full of water. “Here you go. I’m glad ye managed to escape from those bandits. Ever since the end of the war, the men returning from the battle found peace borin’. Instead, they pillage and loot everythin’. This war changed ‘em.”

Lysa eagerly drank the water and then she cleared her throat. “Thank you for saving me out there. I promise you’ll be rewarded for this.”

The man laughed and slapped his knees. “We’re devoted members of the Seven, lass. We help anyone in need as the Mother and Crone demand. Treat this as charity, if you will.”

She widened her eyes at that. Such kindness and they didn’t expect anything in return, surprised her. “So, where are we going, my good man?”

“Oh! A polite thing aren’t ya?” The man pointed at the girl. “I hope my runt would learn to have manners as good as yours!”

“Pappa! Me manners are perfectly fine!”

“Oh, shut it you. Now, we’re goin' to Maidenpool. Our fields weren’t safe anymore. Too many brigands roamin’ these lands, preying on poor farmers and…” He stared at his daughter and shook his head. “Never mind. I just want Bessy to be safe. Away from those bastards! Luckily, we ‘ave family in the town.”

“So, me name is Bessy as my pappa kindly said. What’s yours?”

“My name is…” Her wariness spiked as she thought of a different name. They seemed like good people but one can never be too careful, especially what her father did to her. “Lisa.”

“That’s a beautiful name! It’s gonna get borin’ real quick and it’ll take us three more hours to get to Maidenpool. So, we may as well be friends!”

“Fr-iends?”

“Yes, friends! What do ye like doin’? Me – I love to sew!”

Back and forth chatter between the two girls slowly lowered Lysa’s guard. She started to smile. Months of seclusion and isolation took a toll on her and to be talking to someone of her own age was refreshing and liberating.

Eventually, they arrived. Tall walls encircled the town as it jutted out to the sea. She saw many ships, way more than what she would normally see in Riverrun. They entered the town and she was amazed by the number of people. She saw them plying their trade as they bargained and hollered.

“Here we are, lass!” They’ve stopped in a townhouse made up of stone. There was a great deal of people in the streets as the house was near to the harbour. “Ye can stay with us if you want!”

“Really?” She was never going to get used to this unrequited kindness.

“Of course!” Bess came to her and held her hands. “You’ll always be welcome with us, Lisa.”

“I-I cannot burden you enough. I’ve got somewhere to be.”

Bess wouldn’t take no for an answer until her father played with her brown hair. “I’m sorry Lisa. Bessy can be stubborn. I don’t want to pry,” the man bought something out of his hands and tossed a few silver stags to Lysa. “It may not be much but it should be enough to stay in an inn for a few weeks – two if you buy food with it.”

Lysa felt a stinging sensation in her nose as she started to tear up prompting the two to comfort her. “I-im sorry. I’ve never met anyone kinder than you.” She wiped her tears away. “As much as you say that this is nothing but a generous charity – but I promise to repay you. What’s your name, my good man?”

“I wish you’d stay a little longer so my silly runt can learn from ye. She really needs to learn her manners.” He lightly pinched Bessy’s ear causing her to comically struggle. “Me name’s Corbick. We don’t have a last name but the village near Saltpans calls us Tanner. So call me Corbick Tanner.”

“Nice to meet you, Master Tanner. And Bess - goodbye,” Lysa stepped and hugged Bessy. She hadn’t known her long but the time she has spent with Bessy, made her realise they shared a lot in common. Bessy confessed her love for horse-riding as she rode out into the forest and foraged herbs for medicine and bark for treating leather. Lysa was ashamed that she liked riding on horses for the sake of it. For recreation. Not for work and to help with the family’s job. Her respect for the common folk grew by leaps and bounds. They did all this menial work yet they were happy. Lysa couldn’t compare herself to them. Would they swap their lives for wealth and money even if it causes them nothing but misery?

“If ye need any help, Lisa. Remember we’re here, alrite?” Bessy said as she waved her goodbye.

As she walked round the corner, Lysa collapsed. She didn’t know why she rejected their offer. In truth, she had no plan! All she wanted was to escape the bandits. And to be with the one she loved! But Petyr was nowhere to be seen. He disappeared as soon as Maester Vyman declared him fit and hale. Father must’ve banished him! It’s always his fault! First lacing her drink with moon tea causing the death of Robin and now he’s trying to separate her with Petyr! She quietly fumed as she struggled to rein in her breathing.

A thought came to her mind and she was very tempted to do it. Perhaps it would be better for Lysa to have died during that ambush. Dead and buried in an unmarked grave. Lysa - who had a terrible father. Lysa – who married an ancient man, old enough to be her grandfather! She shivered in disgust as her skin shrivelled causing the strands of her hair to flick up. Lisa. It’s close to my original name. Lisa. A smallfolk. A tanner. A leathermaker! She nodded her head and was about to turn back to accept Corbick’s offer.

But a purple flag caught her eye. A titan holding a sword up high, in a field of purple. Lysa’s eyes brightened as she recognised the heraldry. That’s Aleqqo’s merchant flag! Maybe he knows where Petyr is! She ran to the ship but as she got closer, disappointment replaced her excitement. A ship that looked nothing like the ‘Mermaid’s Curves’. It’s probably just another Braavosi ship. Her shoulders slumped. She looked at her hand and observed the eight silver stags, Corbick gave her. She gave it a determined grip. I’m sorry, Corbick. I’ll not come back for a while. Lisa will – I will promise once I rebuilt everything in Braavos, I will repay you and pay a visit to Bessy. Lysa heard tales about the bastard daughter of Valyria. A city built entirely on the swamp with many islands dotting it. Made up of former slaves escaping Valyrian tyranny, they’ve managed to build a paradise. A city where all religions are accepted and where all men, who work hard enough can achieve immense levels of wealth. Lysa wanted to go out there and try out where the ‘Braavosi Dream’ is going to take her.

She approached the sailors lazing at the pier. “Do you take passengers to Braavos?”

The sailors saw her and quickly stood up and neatly presented themselves. “I’m sorry, my lady, but what makes you think we’re going to Braavos.”

Lysa just stared at him and pointed at the flag.

“Ah! That. Not all Braavosi flags have that heraldry. Only the ones directly employed by the Sealord gets to fly it.”

“So, you’re conducting an important affair on behalf of the Sealord then?” She pointed at them. “I must say, the Sealord would be disappointed.”

The men stopped slouching and stood straighter as they scratched their heads and nervously laughed. “You got us there, my lady. We’re merchants employed by Admiral Aleqqo to… To maintain Braavos’ mercantile interests.”

“Excuse me? Aleqqo?” Don’t get your hopes up. Not yet. Aleqqo could be a common name.

“Yes, my lady. He has managed to grab a lucrative deal with one of the cities here in Westeros. I think…” He hummed and nodded. “It was Gulltown. The deal, or more commonly called the ‘Gulltown Compromise’ allows that city to be used as a resting stop once Braavosi ships cross the Shivering and Narrow Sea. It’s not just that; preferential -”

Lysa zoned out the rest of the sailor’s explanation and contemplated. “Care to tell me more about Aleqqo? Is he who I think he is?” Lysa mumbled quietly.

“My lady?”

“Did Admiral Aleqqo frequently visit Riverrun? It’s upstream of the Trident. The Trident exits through the Bay of Crabs.”

“Yes, my lady. I heard he has a son in Riverrun. But I think it’s just hearsay.”

“Care to tell me of the name of the son?”

“It’s just hearsay –“

“Tell me. Now.” Lysa huffed impatiently.

“Erm… The name is Petyr – “

Lysa extended her hands and opened her palms. “Take me to Gulltown. Here’s eight silver stags for your trouble.”

“But, my lady –“

“But what?!” She screeched.

The sailor rubbed the insides of his ear in a way that further irritated Lysa. “W-we have business to do in Timberton first. Then we’ll stop over to Gulltown.”

“Take me. I don’t care how many ports you have to dock in, as long as I get to Gulltown.” Lysa dropped her coins and climbed the gangway leading to the ship. Petyr, here I come! A great weight seemed to drop from her shoulders as she bounced across the ship in excitement.

Naerys III

“Is she asleep?” Petyr asked

“Yes. Poor Lysa came to me dressed like a beggar. Her dress was all torn up.” Naerys looked through the glass panes of the door. “It’s good that she’s sleeping soundly. She was running away from an ambush for an entire week. I don’t know how she survived.”

“Foraging. Maybe hunting. We used to do those stuff once we were kids. I remember her squealing at the sight of me removing the guts of a rabbit.” He chuckled as he paused likely reminiscing their childhood together. “Once she calmed down, I quickly held my knife and started to skin the poor thing. She ran out of the forest screaming. Cat and I had to find her.”

“Looks like you children went on a grand adventure. That young too. How were you given permission?”

“Oh, we didn’t. We snuck out. There’s a secret canal exiting out of Riverrun that me and Cat discovered. We’ve used it ever since. As long as we came back for dinner and supper then we’re fine. Never got caught too.” Petyr paced back and forth as his face clenched in seriousness. “How many people know about me and Lysa?” He asked brusquely.

Naerys after months of working with him instantly knew he was in business mode. A mode that exhibited a calm and cold exterior that allowed him to fire ideas to his brain. Ideas that were routinely picked apart to search for a nugget of purpose. A purpose that would either prove advantageous or the exact opposite. Knowing this made Naerys angry. Petyr’s childhood friend, who many people thought was dead, was alive in front of him and the only thing he can think about is the impact to his reputation. She slicked her silver-gold hair back and stood up then gave a mighty slap to Petyr’s cheeks. “I’m disappointed Petyr… I thought you loved her.”

Petyr stood there in complete shock and then started to soothe his cheeks. “I-I… I did.”

“You did!?”

“I still do. I love her. I loved her like a sister.”

“This may seem hypocritical on my part due to my ancestors but why did you fuck her?” Naerys saw something that shocked him. Petyr was known for many things: an innovator, an idealist, a visionary and the intelligence to pursue his ambitions and principles. He was an unflappable and precocious lad back in the days. For the first time, she saw him slump his shoulders in defeat and slowly slid to the ground as his back was propped by the wall.

“I-I don’t know.” He spread his arms out in defeat. “I question why I did that even till this day. It’s easy to make an excuse. ‘I was full of milk and poppy’.” He did his weird ‘air quotes’ once again. “ – ‘I was delirious and didn’t know what I was doing’. But the truth was I was fully cognizant. I knew what I was doing and it – sort of happened. S-she,” Petyr started to breathe fast and clutched his left chest, “Sh-e… At the time she looked like Catelyn.” His face started to burn up. “I had no chance with her. After losing that badly,” he undressed his red-golden sash and his tunic revealing a scar trailing down from his left shoulder all the way down to his navel. A sight that rocked Naerys. W-What happened?! Hoster said he lost a duel! He didn’t say anything about this! This could’ve been life-threatening! “I admit – I may be cognizant but I wasn’t fully sober. I was still full of opium. I wanted her so bad. And-a-and…”

“And you settled on her little sister.”

Petyr’s legs tensed as he gripped his hands together. His face turned to a bright shade of red. “Yes.”

Naerys nodded and clicked her tongue. “Hoster… He did something to you?”

“He banished me on the pain of death. Forbade me to write to Cat and Lysa. D-did she tell you how she lost her baby… My baby?”

“I think we need to go outside. To get fresh air. Staying inside the humid decks and explaining what she has gotten through would make me sick.” Naerys led Petyr to the aftcastle. From there Naerys gave Petyr a harrowing tale. A tale of familial betrayal. A tale of greed. But surprisingly, also a tale of hope.

“Goddamn Hoster! I’m gonna make him pay for this!” He slammed his fist into the railing. “I can’t believe he would do that to his daughter.” Petyr calmed down by inhaling as much air as he could. “I-I… Promise me you won’t hit me again?” As he held out his pinkie finger.

Naerys rolled her eyes and reached out with her finger. “For someone so successful and capable, you can be exceedingly childish.” She groaned. “Fine. I promise. Just look after her alright?”

“You’re helping.” Petyr backtracked as Naerys glared at him. “You were never this scary when you taught me algebra and compound interest.”

“It’s because you were a sweet boy back then. Now you’re a man with a very dark secret. A secret that can ruin your – our reputation. Ruin the amount of progress we’ve built up.”

“It’s good you’re starting to realise the implications of my fuck up. At least I wouldn’t need to guard against a slap anymore.”

“Less sarcasm, please. Be more serious.”

“So, I’ll repeat myself. When I got inside the ship your crew looked at me weirdly. Very unusual because they usually bow or nod their heads at me.”

“What were you expecting? Half of the people on this ship work for your spymistress.” Naerys empathised the last word with great relish as Petyr squirmed.

“I w-wonder what Maribelle’s going to think of this?”

“Probably nothing. She may have run in on another gentleman when she became a widow.”

Petyr shook his head. “I wished that was a case. But Maribelle annoyingly holds traditionalist values. I genuinely think she’s a virgin. I had my spies vet her and nothing came up. No past paramours and, if she swings that way, no mistresses.”

Naerys raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean ‘you wished’ she wasn’t a virgin?” She leaned back and used the railings to support her back. “You prefer girls with more experience, don’t you?”

“N-no! I meant I’m not one of those feudalistic primitives that won’t marry women who were ‘spoiled goods’.”

I can believe that. Petyr does hold reassuring progressive views on women. I should stop teasing him. This is getting serious. “I can assure you of everyone’s loyalty to me and you on this ship. They’ll wonder and gossip with one another, but they’ll never spread it. They’ll keep this secret to their grave.”

“That’s not good enough. Make an anonymous ballot allowing them to report anyone who spreads it.”

“Absolutely not. That would sow too much division and chaos and what’s going to stop them from reporting someone who they don’t like. Maribelle and I aren’t going to work with overly paranoid people who see swords instead of flowers. That’s a recipe for disaster.”

“Perhaps your right. But it’s still not enough. We need a contingency plan when my secret comes out.”

“What makes you think your secret hasn’t already come out?”

Petyr paused and stood still like a rock for a minute. Then spontaneously started to wave his arms about as he scratched his head. “Y-your talking about when she presented the unborn babe to Lord Arryn, right?”

Naerys grimly nodded.

“You don’t think Hoster told him, right? Surely, Lord Arryn wouldn’t marry someone who’s spoiled goods. Right?” Petyr cringed.

“Just like what you always say – ‘prepare for the worst, what can –“

“Whatever can happen, will happen. Murphy’s Law. It’s unfortunate it always leads to bad things happening.”

“Till this day, I don’t get why you chose to call it that. It’s a rather queer term. Anyhow, how do we prepare against someone as powerful as the Hand of the King?”

Naerys saw Petyr grab his chin as he got lost in his thoughts. “Send a missive to Lord Doran to poison and murder him? This will cause the Vale to descend into a succession crisis. With the closest relative to Jon… being Isembard who’s his once-removed cousin. A prisoner that we hold.”

Naerys quickly caught on but face-palmed. “That’s not going to work. What makes you think we can persuade him to poison Arryn? He's a careful and cautious man.”

“We promise him that we’ll support Isembard, if not then his son - Robar, to become the Lord of the Vale. Of course, he’ll be my puppet and we’ll promise to lend him our support if the Stag King decides to invade Dorne.”

“The question is how do we theoretically win against that?”

Petyr smirked. “Simply spread a rumour that the Tyrells are planning to betroth their daughter, Margaery to Prince Viserys to overthrow Robert. Stannis hates them with passion and with support from his Florent wife will actively support a pre-emptive war against the Tyrells. Now, that’s three kingdoms against – what? Three kingdoms – the North, Stormlands, if Robert marries Tywin’s daughter, the Westerlands.”

“Five, actually. The Riverlands and Crownlands may not be kingdoms but for the ease of plotting to sow as much chaos, let’s include them as kingdoms.” Naerys said.

“I’m liking the way you're talking right now,” Petyr smiled then squinted his eyes in a way that reminded her of a fox and mumbled ‘chaos is a ladder’. “Three against five. Not good odds, I must admit.”

“Yes. So, how do we win?”

“We don’t. Do you think the knights of the Vale will fight against people they’ve fought with during the rebellion? They’ll overthrow Isembard in a heartbeat.”

“But that’ll renege our agreement with Lord Doran!”

“Not if we worded it right. Even then, he won’t be able to get his revenge on us as Robert razes Sunspear to the ground. Killing an adoptive father will get the Demon of the Trident to do many… Unfortunate things. And Lord Martell might not agree to assassinate Jon Arryn.”

Naerys shook her head. “I like the plan but it has too many events that need to happen for it to succeed. We need to iron out the specific details. As it stands your plan is not perfect.”

“Of course, it’s not. I’ve made it up on the spot.”

She sighed in resignation. She expected this much brilliance from Petyr, she’s used to it. She could respect that. But there was one question at the back of her head. "How about assassinating Jon Arryn ourselves?"

"Maribelle and her spies don't have the necessary connections and resources in Sunspear to reliably assassinate him. That's why we'll have to encourage the Martells to do the deed for us. They must have the motives to do so. Plus we don't want to have his death pointing towards us."

"Even if we got caught who'd believe the Martells? You Westerosi seem to hate and distrust the Dornish already." Naerys mused.

"I don't want to risk it. Perhaps Doran's brother maybe more amicable..." Petyr stopped and started to think prompting Naerys to leave but Petyr pleaded which stopped her, “Oh, if everything goes to shit, can I seek political asylum in Braavos?”

Her respect for him immediately disappeared.