life is like a house of cards

you build it up for ages, but it crumbles down in seconds. dowager countess lysa arryn for blood & gory rp.

[widowarryn-deactivated20130812]

and you can have it all, my empire of dirt | lysa arryn & vardis egen | august 29th

[vardisofthevale]

He knew she didn’t really take the words to heart—but she was trying. She was trying to convince herself that everything would be all right, like she always tried.  It rarely came to be that way…. Life was messy. Her life was messy. And Vardis was just there to try to catch the pieces, to hold them together as best he could. If she was like the air rushing wildly about the Eyrie, he had to be the stone beneath her, to ground her. Steady and constant.

And that’s exactly what he was. 

But his suggestion was weak, as always. It was hard for him to know just what to say. He was stone—even, steady, strong. It was his profession to be strong when others could not be. But he didn’t always know what to say to someone who lacked that sort of strength. Or to someone like Lysa, whose strengths held hands with her weaknesses. She was a fierce mother…she would do anything for her child. Robin was what mattered most to her. And yet it was that very love that broke her, again and again. 

It shouldn’t be so hard…just to love…but that Vardis understood first hand. Sometimes…it just was that hard. 

She seemed to know that meager sleep or warm tea was a weak cure—just as he did. Because instead of engaging in either, she tilted her head up and her lips found his. His arm squeezed around her tighter as he met her kiss, holding her to him warmly. 

He remembered the fear he had experienced the first time they’d kissed…that dreadful acknowledgement, the realization when he thought that if he kissed her again, he would kiss her forever…and so he did. He kissed her again now, soft, warm, and comforting. One strong hand came up to gently brush her long hair from her face, smoothing it back. 

"Don’t worry," he whispered. Easier said than done, but he wanted to remind her that he was there for her, no matter what. 

[ladyarryns]

The Eyrie was stone but some days it felt like paper, as if Lysa was in a wispy house that felt everything. Every slight wind, every moan of despair. It breathed in and out with the ghosts of the past, and she wondered if one day every black moment would collapse in on her and drag her back into the earth. But it seemed impossible for the Eyrie to fall with Vardis here, the pilaster that reached even the darkest corners.

She felt her pain staunched as he pulled her closer, his lips warm and so familiar to her own, they knew each other. She leaned in and peace touched her, if only for a precious snatch of seconds.

Her lips curved just noticeably at his words, a smile that came from not acceptance, but amusement and knowing. This was the game they were doomed to play. Vardis, forever encouraging her with warm words of support that would never truly meet with Lysa, like oil and water, and Lysa, forever pretending that they could. He was good, too good, and perhaps with all her trespasses she didn't deserve someone so kind and devoted; Lysa was a firm believer in fate, and the gods had only ever given her people who hurt her...as if she was eternally bound to punishment for her sins.

She wondered how she could win in this cruel world, how she could be stronger for her son. If it was as simple as making a choice and then putting on an act, in hopes that one day, it would become her true skin. Then she could pull her old self off her shoulders and cast it away as if the Lysa who cried had never existed to begin with. But that would also mean discarding the person who had been kissed and cared for, loved dutifully by the man who touched her now. 

Lysa pressed her head to his shoulder again, her hands tracing his arm till they found his hand. Her fingers fell into place between his spaces, where they belonged.

"Sit with me a while," she asked gently, closing her eyes, just to rest for a while in a place where she knew she would not wake with that salty film of dried tears. Her exhaustion had been muted the past few days; she had ignored it to concentrate on Robin. But now Lysa could feel it, she was bleeding life.

It was only with Vardis' hand in hers now that she could even feel a pulse.

[ladyarryns]

[ladyarryns]

skimming the rim of reality | stern face & lysa (2 sept)

[thesternfaced-blog]

He went to the counter where he saw all the ingredients set up in bowls and pans. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of silver and turned to Lysa when she handed him a kitchen blade. He blinked and nodded at her instructions as he took the knife into his hand. He felt the creature in his mind go crazy, jumping and clawing at the insides of his skull, screeching at him to stab the knife through her and eat her flesh for dinner instead.  But Lucas ignored it and the maddening ache in his fingers and turned to the pecans.

As he chopped them, one by one, then again into smaller pieces, he imagined little heads, not unlike the one that annoying little bird had on his shoulders. He reached for the bowl and tossed the pecans into the bread crumbs, rolling the bowl around to mix them. 

“ Well, if you consider popping frozen pizza into the oven cooking, then yes, i cook very often at home,” He smiled, glancing at her, “ But i used to- I mean, actually cook, when I was a kid. The least my brother and i could do after school- while our mum was working her shifts, though i was never really good at it outside of the usual stuff like pasta and chicken chop,”

[ladyarryns]

Lysa smiled at his short quip--she hadn't had frozen pizza in years. Most things she ate now were fresh, though she didn't take joy in eating the way she did when she was a child. Now it was more like a chore that could be postponed if no one noticed; often her harrowing thoughts were all her body could handle and food made her nauseous. "You should try to be more healthy," she chided lightly, ever the mother, as she mixed the butter, mustard, and honey together. The yellows swirled together like heavy viscous paint. Lysa always made sure that Robin was eating well to keep up his health, although he had the tendency to hide things from her. 

She liked the idea of children cooking dinner when their mother was too busy…it seemed that children who willingly helped their mothers these days were rare, but Lysa was grateful for the way Robin still needed her. "Well, I'm sure she appreciated you lending a hand." The sentence came easily, polite, thoughtful  remarks instinctual for a girl who was the daughter of Hoster Tully and the wife of Jon Arryn. She thought back to her own childhood as she ran the bristles of the basting brushes over the salmon fillets with the yellow mixture, painting the with a new skin. "I never learned how to cook when I was young."

As the overlooked child, her duties had been to simply fill empty days with laughter and music and chit chat. Those were gloriously carefree years, incandescent. Leave ambition to Cat. Lysa had just wanted to be happy. She had such belief in feeling, and that true feeling could have a potent effect on the outcome of things. The years might have worn the belief down but it was still there, at the end of the road that lead Lysa to be convinced that although it had been years since she had touched the oven, she would still be able to cook a delicious baked salmon dijon simply because it was a lovely gesture that Lucas should enjoy. Her unwavering faith had only been scraped away at the surface.

Once Lysa finished coating the fish, she carried them on the wooden board over to Lucas. "Okay, now we sprinkle the crumbs on top." She reached over, taking a pinch from his bowl and began. She was enjoying this more than she had expected to, the failure gradually washing away with the strange intimacy of it all. She wished she could do this more often, but…well, with who? Cooking was too dangerous for Robin and was not a skill he would ever need to learn anyway, and Lysa doubted Vardis would be interested, though he would if she asked. She felt the sting of loneliness creep up on her again, but she swatted it away and return her attention to Lucas. There was one thing she was still curious about, though she was almost afraid to ask.

"So how are things back in London?" Her voice felt separate from her when she forced the words out, hating the clunky name of the city that had damaged her son. But she wanted to know, she needed to know. If anyone had ever reported something strange that happened that night, that could give reason to why Robin ambled between the lines of being wracked with terrors and being calm as a bowl of water. 

Lysa brushed her hair back, remembering why those who cooked usual kept their hair tied back in some way. But for Lysa, her hair had become a sort of security blanket, a thick, auburn curtain that she felt comfortable to have as if she could pull the drapes and close herself off from the rest of the world and its disappointments so easily.

[ladyarryns]

pay no mind to the rabble | robin & lysa (26 april)

[aneaglefromwales-blog]

Robin glances down at his shirt.  There was a tiny red stain at the bottom and he thinks he’ll have to remember to yell at the maids when he gets home.  He’d forgotten to tell Mama about this.  She won’t be happy about this.  ”I got a nosebleed last week.  I forgot to tell you.  It wasn’t so bad at first, but then I had to go see the nurse.  I made sure they didn’t call you.  They shouldn’t have called you today.”

Robin leans back against his seat and looks out the window.  Mama’s talking about something she read, but it doesn’t sound very interesting to Robin.  The sun comes through the car window in flickers; it’s bright outside but the trees make shadows when they pass them.  The driver slows down and Robin’s about to yell at him until he hears Mama.  ”The fair?  You wanna go to the fair?”

He grins.  Ferris wheals and the carousel and cotton candy and funnel cake.  And it’s so bright outside too.  And there’s no way that Mama would every make him go on a roller coster, so it should be fun.  ”Of course I want to go to the fair!  Let’s go.”

He has the driver slow down and stop, and opens the door almost before mama has time to react and answer.  He jumps out of the car and motions for her to come with him.  

[ladyarryns]

"Oh, I know how smart you are," Lysa said gently, soothing as one arm went to embrace her son curled up against her side. "But there are things that even a lord must do." "Duty" rippled through her thoughts, but history had turned that word to sawdust on her tongue and she wouldn't voice it. Those words were dead and gone. When Lysa was Robin's age, she had loved school, but more because of the interaction with the other children than the actual learning. But still, the mother could sympathize. She wished Robin could stay with her at home, where he could always be safe and under her caring watch, but even Lysa knew that it would be best to expose Robin to other children his age. She only hoped that one day, he would find it easy to make friends. But it wasn't his fault that the other boys in his class were brutes, and she didn't see why he should be punished.

Lysa looked back at Robin and saw the tears beginning to form as he spoke bravely, and she was so proud of him. "One day, none of this will matter," Lysa promised as one hand reached up, brushing beneath his eye with the pad of her thumb, chasing away the tears. Those same children who called Robin names and threw things at him would come to realize that he was the fourteenth Earl of Waldegrave, and they would stop. She was certain of it. 

Suddenly, Robin mentioned a nosebleed, and all of Lysa's security melted away in one instant. "What?" She turned to him immediately, her face wrought with panic. He had always had weak health, as if he was constantly living between the lines of being very ill and being well, and it was one of the reasons why Lysa felt so protective of him. A nosebleed could mean an infection or even something more serious, but looking him over now, Robin didn't appear to be sick. A cautious calm swept over her, but his next words sparked pain. 

"What do you mean?" she asked when Robin mentioned how he made certain she wasn't contacted when he had the nosebleed. Deep inside, Lysa felt her emotions flare ever so slightly, that familiar douse of embarrassment rising under the skin, warm, stifling, feverish. No, no. They always told her that she coddled Robin, but they didn't, couldn't understand. They tried to shame her into feeling guilt, into believing that she was spoiling him. They threatened that he would suffer for it in the future but they were incapable of knowing the pain Lysa felt and that everything she did, she did to protect his future. She did what she knew what was best for her son. The idea that he couldn't comprehend this--that he was on their side, that he was as mortified as they claimed he would be--broke her completely.  "Robin." Lysa held herself together on the surface, like always, her face became stone. She shifted, turning to face him, the seatbelt twisting. "Why shouldn't they?" Her tone was light, it hid the wound.

At the mention of fair, however, the atmosphere changed. The smile of pure joy and excitement on Robin's face lifted Lysa once more, knowing that she had caused that. Happiness was terrifying for Lysa, though one would never know it by looking at her face. She knew that it was fleeting, like new silk scarves that were always destined to snag on something, to be soiled, to burn. She was a hopeless, hapless girl in a fairytale; even when she was dancing in shining shoes she was forever checking the clock and anticipating the end of it all. But Robin was a distraction, and that was something the dowager countess always needed. She laughed as he quickly climbed out of the car and started running off, and Lysa moved to keep up with him.

At the front, she purchased the wristbands that allowed them to go on whichever rides they want, as many times as they want. After helping Robin with his, they entered the carnival, the smell of caramelized popcorn and soft pretzels instantly greeting them. 

"What would you like to do first?"

[bloodandglory-rp]

[ladyarryns]

character: lysa tully arryn (bio) affiliations: arryn, tully natascha mcelhone

[ladyarryns]

skimming the rim of reality | stern face & lysa (2 sept)

[thesternfaced-blog]

His footsteps echoed against the marble walls around him. The air here was chilly, and the place felt empty. The mansion looked huge outside, and surely it was larger on the inside, and he wasn’t wrong so far. How could anyone live in a place like this? Lucas wondered. Even with a son a couple of servants and body guards. This was too big a place for too few. It felt lonely. But  he supposed that this was how the rich lived. It was lonely on the top of the mountain he supposed.

When he looked back at Lysa, he wondered if this was why she looked so pale and sad. It was this stone cold cage that sucked away any life that stepped through its halls, he thought. It was a tomb, not a house. Not a home. But who was he to say that? Wasn’t home where you felt safe? Lysa felt safe here, so he should not dispute that. 

He raised his eye brows, smiling then grinning briefly, ” No, please its fine. We can still eat here. I’ll help you cook,” 

He stepped to her side and looked at her, meeting her eyes, ” Lysa, please, don’t fret over me. It’s fine. Plus- It’s my fault anyway. I left a little earlier, because i thought i would get lost, but the road here wasnt all that confusing so-,” He gave a shrug and offered her an assuring smile, ” What were you cooking? And how can i help?”

[ladyarryns]

She had grown used to most reconciling themselves to her faults and never expecting greater. With her father, it had seemed as if after a while, he had halted nearly all his expectations of her...labeled them futile and decided to load them onto another one of her siblings. He never showed this outright, but Lysa had felt it. One day, things were not the same; something had broken off inside of them and they never recovered.

But instead of accepting her mistake and opening the door so they could both leave, Lucas insisted it was all right, and that they should continue where she left off.  Her mind was a mélange of slight relief and slight disappointment; she was grateful he was not vexed (why would he be vexed? He had never shown anything to her but congeniality and sympathy), but she did not know if inviting him here had been right after all, Vardis' face continuously bubbling to the surface of her guilt. Yet this was the choice she had made in her wild attempt to keep a friend, and as poory made as it was, she would follow through with it, as she always did.

"Well, if you're sure," Lysa affirmed, searching his face for any reluctance after he smiled, and then blamed himself. She didn't find anything, so she smiled too. "I was preparing a baked dijon salmon," she remarked, crossing one arm against her chest. She should have told him before, but he didn't seem to be upset at the choice.

Lysa led him into the kitchen, so large and pretty with hanging lights and a silver tiered stand with green apples that it looked more like the setting of a luxurious cooking show for rich housewives, instead of the kitchen that the dowager countess used. But then again, most might not even think she cooked at all when the Arryns had a kitchen staff. It had been a long time since Lysa had done it herself; why even make her own cup of coffee when they knew how to properly grind the beans and measure everything so that it was just right? They did it better, so she had simply stopped trying long ago. 

She handed him the knife, cool to the touch, and pointed at the bowls on the marble island. 

"Chop some more pecans, and then mix them in that bowl with the bread crumbs," Lysa instructed and then moved to the microwave to take out the bowl of butter. As she opened the cupboards to retrieve the honey and mustard, she glanced back at Lucas. "Do you cook often, at home?" She wondered if a writer's muse extend to nutmeg and basil, or if it was solely a focused art.

[ladyarryns]

sevendeaths replied to your photoset

prettiest sister xx

[ladyarryns]

[brynden-the-blackfish-blog]

Air is your permanent struggle to breathe [Brynden & Lysa; 14th May 1984]

[brynden-the-blackfish-blog]

" I’m so sorry, love. I’m so sorry," He said, helpless. His eyes were stinging but he cannot cry in front of her. She needed him not to cry. So he held her face, her palms cupping her cheeks and pulled her away a fraction so she could see his eyes. 

" Lysa… Lysa… You’re going to be okay, love… You’re going to be okay. Do you hear? You’re beautiful, and you’re strong and you’re smart. You’re a good person,"

" I know- I know its hard to believe now, but it is the truth," He combed her hair with his fingers and tucked her hair behind her ear, revealing her tear stained face, " I know its hard to see, i know. But one day, Hoster will let you marry someone you love. And one day, you will be happy. I promise,"

" I promise,"

[ladyarryns]

Promises, promises. Her uncle continued to whisper the promise of a better tomorrow, but now Lysa was old enough to know how much promises of the future were worth. Petyr had promised everything was going to be fine, too. Her father had shouted the words at her, right before she had slipped under in the clinic; it was nothing but deception. Somewhere in her broken mind, Lysa knew her uncle was different and that he wanted her happiness at any cost, but what was a want in this world of bitter fates and chances? Just something precious tossed away in the deaf and uncaring wind.

She tucked her lower lip in, biting down with her teeth as she listened to her Uncle Brynden describe her as if she was someone else. She shook her head in response, eyes squeezed shut as tears coursed through the corners. How many times did Lysa sit in front of the mirror, examining every one of her features as she brushed her auburn hair, trying to find confidence?

There were moments were Lysa thought she was pretty, when her hair flowed around her shoulders like her sister's and made her eyes like two blue moons melting in the sea, but no one, no one ever saw that but Petyr. He told her that when she cried, too. In her rapidly dimming senses, it seemed to Lysa that she only ever received  compliments when she cried. 

"Uncle…I only want him," she spluttered, fragile at first, then her resolve turned the words rigid as they fell out her mouth. "I only want him!" Her fingers slipped around the collar of his coat as she tugged it with each syllable, as if that would help him understand. "Why, why can't Father let me marry the one I love now? Can't I…can't I be happy now?" Her raw indignation burned inside of her, thawing her hopes into nullity. Her face contorted, and she gripped the fabric tighter between her white fingers as she crumpled, folding her tears into his chest. "No one will ever love me like Petyr." He saw her merits, he told her, as she would press her body against his beneath a blanket, with Cat far away in Edinburgh.

Voicing her concern only succeeded in making her more terrified. She forced the fear down like sour tonic and used it as strength. Lysa knew now that she couldn't wait and see what was going to happen. She had to secure her own prospects; if she left it to others she would never get what she wanted, only what others needed. Lysa raised her head to look back at him, eyes frantic now. She grabbed his hands, still wet from her own tears.

"Please, Uncle Brynden, please talk to Father, tell him everything I told you…make him understand. Make him. Don't let him drive Petyr out…don't let things end like this, please, please." She kissed his hands. "Please."

[ladyarryns]

skimming the rim of reality | stern face & lysa (2 sept)

[thesternfaced-blog]

Lucas took a moment to look up at the building in front of him, just admiring its architecture and build for a moment before stepping to the door. Lucas felt small in this place, so he gripped his bag a little tighter and loosened it as he rang the door bell. 

He waited for what felt like a long while, his nerves fraying a little under his skin. But again, he managed to take a deep breath and remind himself that it was fine, and there was no need to be nervous. Lysa was still a person beneath that title, a good one at that, and they were just friends after all.

Even if they had accidentally kissed.

When the door opened, he smiled at Lysa, ” Hey,” He piped, ” I- uh, got some wine and chocolates for Robin,”

" I hope that’s allright,"

[ladyarryns]

A servant went to the door but Lysa sent her away and opened the door herself, face slightly flushed. She hadn't even put the salmon in the oven yet; already, things were ruined. But Lucas smiled at her, and suddenly she knew he would forgive her. Her lips curved upwards in response, in nervous instinct. "Oh, you didn't have to," she said, reaching out to touch the bottle, fingers brushing against his. Lysa couldn't recall the last time someone gave her small gifts like these, things girls were always supposed to receive and yet she never truly experienced it in her youth.

Petyr gave her no presents that he did not give Cat, and Vardis, Vardis would never cross that line. It was only Jon, in their early years, when he play her Valentine or something or other. It hadn't meant anything with Jon, and now she had invited another man to his house and accepted his wine and chocolates. It was what Lysa wanted, but she did not want it like this.

"That's kind of you, thank you." Robin did like sweets. There were times when Lysa slipped something into a glass of hot cocoa or in a cake to help him sleep and calm his dreams. Her Sweetrobin was the reason why Lucas was here today, she reminded herself, and opened the door wider for Lucas to come in. The sound of her shoes against the marble floor echoed in the hall as she stepped back to make room; she felt alone and scandalous when the heavy door closed behind him. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't--I haven't finished cooking just yet." She pressed her lips together, thinking of the bowl of melted butter in the microwave, the cold salmon fillet on the chopping board. "We could eat out instead." Perhaps the company of others would choke the warm unease crawling up her throat.

But she was happy he was here, it was good to see him. It comforted her to know that in some corner of the world, someone could live without chaos. It gave her hope.

[brynden-the-blackfish-blog]

Air is your permanent struggle to breathe [Brynden & Lysa; 14th May 1984]

[brynden-the-blackfish-blog]

He saw her pale face and her eyes tinged with red. The little one. The second daughter. 

Oh, Lysa.

He stepped closer but she reached him first. Crashing into his chest and wrapping her arms around him in a strength renewed. He did the same, holding her close, leaning down to kiss her head and stay there, ” I know, i know,” He whispered, combing her hair back away from her face, ” Shh.. shh..,”

He lowered himself to his knees and brought Lysa to sit with him, ” I know, i’m sorry Lysa, i’m so sorry,”

" Shh… shh… i’m here… i’m here," He gave her a gentle squeeze, " I’m here…It’s me…,"

[ladyarryns]

He knew and he was sorry, but what did that mean? It was over. It was over. Everything was over, before it could even begin; and the happy ever after had slipped right through her fingers. No wedding day, no pretty nursery and baby clothes in reds and blues. Just loneliness, only loneliness. No, no, no. How could everything have gone so wrong? Life was a man with a basket, but instead of handing each person one loaf of bread, He had given her older sister everything, and nothing, nothing for Lysa. 

Since she was a child, something in the back of her mind always reminded Lysa that she would never be loved like Catelyn, or Edmure. She wasn't good enough. Her life fogged over, coated with all her expectations and wants, dreams and desperations…stacked up high in front of her eyes, opaque, and she had become blind to anything beyond her own self-doubt and fervent wishes. Lysa would hide her desire to be more deep beneath silly hopes and dreams, and Petyr helped. She would have spent the rest of her life with him for that, but her father had snipped those roots.

"What am I to do?" Lysa begged for an answer, dropping her head against him once more. "What do I do now, Uncle?" She needed to know, but she didn't want to. She didn't want any other life than one with Petyr, but in one day that had become an impossibility. "He's gone." A sob broke her again, and she pulled her body smaller. "He's gone." Her eyes hurt from crying so much but still Lysa could not stop; there was no other choice than to face the water-stained reality in front of her. "They're both gone...Father is going to send Petyr away, and I can't, I can't be without him."

[widowarryn-deactivated20130812]

and you can have it all, my empire of dirt | lysa arryn & vardis egen | august 29th

[vardisofthevale]

He felt her weight sink into him and was glad she had accepted his gesture of comfort. One arm around her, he cradled her head to his shoulder and chest, fingers working gently in the locks of her long hair. 

"I know," he said softly. He knew her nights were sleepless, and her sleep was far from dreamless. How many nights, even before this, had he lay with her in his arms, feeling her fitful little movements while she fought her troubled dreams? "But he’s safe now…he’s just…"

What? He’s just what? Traumatized by something they’d yet to uncover? Delirious? He was unequipped for reality, for life in the real world and all the hardships that come with it, that’s what he was. 

"…he’s upset. He’ll come ‘round." 

He rubbed Lysa’s arm warmly, and it wasn’t so different from the years and years of chilly nights they’d spent in the Eyrie. When Robin was just a toddler, and Lysa and Vardis would wander into forgotten rooms and halls, half of them in various states of disrepair…. And Vardis would find himself with Lysa in his arms, his mouth to hers, the two of them chasing away the chill together. 

"You should try to sleep a little…or maybe have some tea…?" 

[ladyarryns]

His touch always comforted Lysa; it reminded her there was a pillar to her pressures, kept them from crashing down. Robin was safe now, yes, but what if--no, he was here, Vardis was here, they were in Eyrie, everything in the garden was rosy again, yes, yes. She nodded to Vardis' words. "Yes, you're right," she swallowed, taking the empty sentence like a child who took her medicine knowing it was what was best for her. She had to tuck these fears away, it was morning now. Lysa repeated the words over and over in her mind like a prayer to make her strong so she withstand all for her son. Motherhood crippled Lysa with constant concerns, as fiercely as it heartened her with light and joy. 

Those moments of bliss with Robin were worth everything, but there were times when Lysa felt very damaged indeed. There were none who knew of all her sins…the unspeakable things she had done for the ones she loved. Though she was an Arryn now, she was still deeply rooted in the Tully ways of family, despite the fact that she had become the black sheep of her old family with one slip.

She was the skeleton in the Tully closet, flesh clinging to bone, struggling to hold on, struggling for feeling. Strung up like a Christmas ornament, alone in a wooden closet, hanging, waiting for the end as the dust settled. And there was no reprieve, not until someone opened the door and took her out to sun-bleach her bones and warm her, as tattered and splintered as she was with all the dark secrets that had festered inside of her.

She felt too much; that was the problem.  

To dream, or drink tea. If only it was so effortless. She gave a sigh as if her sorrow was routine.

Lysa raised her head and touched her lips to his. It was slow, tender, weary.

[ladyarryns]

skimming the rim of reality | stern face & lysa (2 sept)

The food processor whirred loudly, the sound slowly expanding and filling the empty kitchen like breath into a balloon. The chopping and mixing screamed at her, what was she doing? What was she doing? What was she doing? 

She felt like a woman quartered, each limb pulled in another direction, for another purpose. One part told Lysa that this was fine, nothing out of the ordinary. She was inviting Lucas over to thank him for helping Vardis search for Robin. It was only proper; besides, who knew when she would see him again, seeing how Robin was still on the mend, and how she had no plans to go back to London until he was better? If there was something Lysa needed, it was allies, friends. There were so few she could rely on in this world, she could count them on one pale hand. 

But were they suited to friendship, she and Lucas? Almost two weeks ago, that one night…she had kissed him, an intimacy that had been reserved for only one in her life for years now. Lysa had apologized afterwards, face heated and shaking her head as she murmured senseless excuses, but nothing had happened. With Lucas, there was no danger of being discovered because a relationship with a journalist was nothing to be ashamed of.

Those thoughts of shame brought Lysa to another voice in her head, this one louder than the others as it shouted at her, how dare she bring this man to her safe haven, the place where the grey "us" of she and Vardis had been founded on. It was all right, though, Vardis had reassured her. Lysa had no obligations, but she couldn't shake the nagging feeling that scratched the back of her mind like prickly wool.

God in Heaven, why did everything always have to be so complicated?

Had things gone simply, she would have given a son to a moneylender, and everyone would have smiled at her wedding. Instead, Lysa had been a solemn bride and now she was here, faced with impossible choices. Uncertainty was her color. She did not know what was going to happen tonight, but…she clung to the notion of friendship, at the very least, and reminded herself that she was guilty of nothing; all she did, she did for love.

So much for cooking to assuage her tribulations. There was a time when it had, and that had been why Lysa had excused the kitchen staff for the night, insisting on doing everything herself. But they would not be alone, there were still others in the house who were fixing things for the Arryns' longer stay. The only absences that counted were Vardis' and Robin's. Lysa had sent them away for the evening, ill at ease with the idea of either of them in the house while Lucas was here. She had promised to show Lucas the beauty of the Vale, the Eyrie…but not the woods, no, not the woods that kept her gods and ghosts and secrets, laced in the roots and branches and veins of the leaves. 

Before she could be lost in a reverie, Lysa caught herself and poured the bread crumbs of the processor into a bowl of pecans and parsley. While she crossed the floor over to the refrigerator, the doorbell rang. 

[ladyarryns]

[brynden-the-blackfish-blog]

Air is your permanent struggle to breathe [Brynden & Lysa; 14th May 1984]

His hand was shaking.

The tremors from his clenched fists travelled up his arms and all through his body. What did he just do?

Oh God.

He should go back. Apologise.

But his feet were storming down the steps, the sound of their falls echoing around him.

He couldn’t go back up there. He couldn’t face Hoster any more. How could he after what Hoster had done? How could he after what /he/ had done?

Oh God, oh God.

But his fingernails were digging into his palm and he knew that he was probably cutting through his skin.

He had shouted at Hoster. They fought and they yelled. He asked him why he did what he did. he demanded him to tell him. And he did. but that only made the blood in Byrnden’s veins rise and boil.

Hoster had always been larger than he, always stronger. At least, that was what he always believed.

But…he remembered his hands grabbing his brother by the collar. Hoster had twisted away from him and they grappled and stumbled back. Brynden had managed, somehow, some way to pin Hoster down to crack his fist across his brother’s face. Then, another across his jaw. And another and another and he stopped only when he saw Hoster spit a glob of blood out.

He held his hands together as he stepped out the front door, feeling the raw skin on his knuckles.

What had he done?

No, Bryn. You need to find Lysa.

So he lifted his head and turned to look across the estate. She must’ve gone to the river.

[ladyarryns]

She hadn't known.

Lysa had climbed into the car with her father, hardly even needing to hide her still small belly of six weeks. She and her father were going out for a pleasant lunch together, just the two of them for once. She had laughed and joked in the car, thinking of her bright future to come. She would tell her father soon.

But then the car had pulled up at the clinic, and Lysa understood why he had seemed so stiff on the ride over. She couldn't understand how he could have known--Lysa had only told her siblings and Petyr, and they would have never betrayed her. Still, however he found out, Lysa fought with him; at first, sweetly, telling him how she planned to marry Petyr, and they were going to be happy together, as happy as Cat and Brandon.

But he wouldn't listen, and soon Lysa was screaming as he dragged her inside. The doctors there understood who he was, and that Hoster Tully was not a man to cross, so they did as he said. Lysa was sobbing hysterically for a long time, but then they held her arm and she felt a pinch and suddenly everything melted away, her mind slowly sinking in viscous sleepy feelings, and then it plunged, diving deep.

When she woke up, head whirling, she was home, and she had thought it had all been a nightmare until she went to the bathroom and saw the blood. Lysa cried out and the sound sliced through the silent house. Cat and Edmure came to comfort her, but she was sobbing so hard she could hardly hear or see anything. She lost him, her baby, the precious little boy Lysa knew would grow up to look just like his father. It had happened so fast, and she hadn't even been able to say good-bye. Her stomach was empty now but she had never felt more agony, everything twisting. They gave her warm things to drink and blankets and gentle words, but nothing helped. At some point, she pushed everyone away and ran out of the house, outside to the river. 

She ran right to the edge, half of her body screaming at her to throw herself into the water, as if it could wash everything away. Thoughts slid like raindrops down a pipe and each and every one of them burned her inside and out.

Lysa Tully was dying, she was certain of it. 

She was a thousand pieces that could never be put back together again, not in the right way. She sobbed, and sobbed hard, her tiny frame shaking as she sank to her knees, body aching with the phantom stench of death still drenching her bones. 

Buried beneath her weeping, Lysa heard the sound of someone approaching. She thought it was her father and  for a moment, she felt a whip of anger lash at her nerves--couldn't she have control over one moment in her life, one second to be free to do as she wished without being bothered without having to obey? Lysa turned around, her face tearstained and raw, ready to shout and run again…to the ends of the earth if she had to. 

But when Lysa saw who it was, she found herself pulling her body to her feet and she ran not away, but the rest of the way to him. She collided with him, clinging to his shirt, pressing her face to his chest as she continued to cry. No matter what she said or thought, Lysa could never abide loneliness for long. She needed comforting.

"Uncle," came her whisper, so frail it sounded as if it was threatening to crack. "They stole him from me, my little baby boy. I was going to marry Petyr, but Father said he wasn't good enough for me. How could he not be, he's everything to me, I love him and want him to have everything, we were going to be married and happy, and now everything's lost." The words spilled out one after another, muffled and spliced between her breaths and sobs.

[widowarryn-deactivated20130812]

and you can have it all, my empire of dirt | lysa arryn & vardis egen | august 29th

[vardisofthevale]

He cupped his hand to his mouth and glanced away, falling into a somber, heavy thoughtfulness as Lysa wept quietly. He’d never felt so stuck before.  He’d never not had the answers. So much training, so much skill, and what good was he? He could kill a man as easily as he might embrace one. He could fire a gun, he could disarm an attacker with nothing but his bare hands, coordinate a fleet of security for the Prime Minister himself—but after more than a decade, he couldn’t keep Lysa Arryn from crying. 

And then of all things, she said that she was sorry. He frowned and turned his blue eyes back to her, sharp with reproach. Vardis rose to sit himself beside her, letting their shoulders touch. Letting her know he was there. 

"Lysa," he said gently, keeping his low voice soft. "You did nothing wrong. Robin’s actions were his own. And he will be all right. This will pass…” 

He hesitated, not sure if he should touch her…but if she wanted him gone, she only had to say the word. So he carefully moved an arm around her shoulders, holding her firmly. Then, softer than before, he said, “Please don’t cry….” 

[ladyarryns]

Vardis continued to reassure her, trying to alleviate her pangs of conscience despite her earlier refusal. But that was Vardis, her head of security and personal bodyguard. Those words had come to mean so much more in the past years. He did not only try to protect her from any harm from the outside world but also the hurt she inflicted upon herself, through guilt and dread and phantoms. She couldn’t bear to be without him. Lysa had endured many pains in her life, but she couldn’t suffer that. She wouldn’t, he promised.

The resonance of his voice soothed Lysa, and she was reminded that time heals all wounds. That was what her therapist had said to her when she had lost Petyr’s child, and what the other had said when she continued to lose Jon’s. They gave their word, making time seem as if it was some magic medicine that could cure any pain or heartbreak, and Lysa listened, letting the days pass through her like sand through spaced fingers.

But years and years had passed, and to this day, Lysa Arryn felt haunted. If time was a panacea, it worked too slowly for her; she could not brave the waiting.

But the warmth of Vardis told her otherwise as he drew her close, reminding her that no matter what would become of the future, he would be there for her, and Robin. She would never be alone again. Lysa owed him more than he would ever know, so she did her best to do what he asked, and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand…willed her eyes to stop their tears. She moved closer to Vardis, resting her head by his shoulder, burying it there where it belonged by his scar until she felt ready to speak without crying.

"It’s just been so hard these past few days,” Lysa said through a soft sigh, and her lips pressed together as she looked up and gave him a short smile of beaten resignation. “I can’t sleep at all.” She could feel the fatigue, heavy in her eyes. "I close my eyes and see Robin stolen away and feel that same uncertainty and terror from that night, and I can't." Lysa would lie there in her bed, consumed by anxiety as it pressed down on her chest and she felt its hands encircling her neck. 

Vardis knew she always had troubles sleeping to begin with, that often hours past midnight Lysa Arryn would have to turn to something to ease her to sleep, whether it be a warm drink, some pills, or his bed. Worries were crowd her mind and she would get hot flashes of nightmares even in her wakefulness. She wished she could turn them off. She wished she could just close her eyes and sleep as peacefully as anyone else.

But even in Lysa’s youth, she had not been an easy sleeper. Back then, she had always been too excited about the things to come to settle down and rest, but now they had come and they were nothing she dreamed of and all she longed for was rest. 

[ladyarryns]

pay no mind to the rabble | robin & lysa (26 april)

[aneaglefromwales-blog]

"You don’t have to talk to anyone.  Really, Mama."  They would take the other boys side, Robin knows.  Mama talking to them would make things way worse.  He looks over at her.  Would calling her actually make a difference?

"You’re right.  They can’t do this to me.  I’m the lord of Wales.  They should have more respect."

[ladyarryns]

Lysa glanced at Robin as he told her she did not have to go any further and confront the headmaster. She felt better with him here now, his hand in hers and everything now over, but she still didn't like it. "Don't you worry about it, Robin," she smiled down at him. "I'll have everything sorted out." She was constantly worried that her son was not enjoying school as much as he should be. He didn't have many friends. It wasn't as if Lysa often saw him running around with the other boys after school, although perhaps that was better for his health. She began to frown at the thought, but then Robin spoke up, mentioning how wrong they were to treat him this way. "That's right. You are my smart, strong Earl of Waldegrave, and they should behave accordingly," Lysa encouraged, a gentle hand on his shoulder as they entered the car. 

Normally, the drive back home was filled with conversation as Lysa heard how Robin's day was, but she wasn't sure if she should ask yet, not wanting to upset him. Come dinner time, maybe, but not right now. Her day had been uneventful, giving her little to talk about herself, but just as Lysa was about to mention a nice story she had read in the newspaper, the sight of colorful flags caught her eye as she gazed out the window. There was a House of Mirrors, and a swing carousel…Lysa asked the driver what was going on, and he informed her that a detour caused him to take a new route, and that he had heard there was a fair that had moved into town over the weekend. 

Lysa remembered the last time she had gone to a carnival. Robin had been two years old, and the young mother had suggested the trip to Jon. It was one of the few memories she had where she had almost felt like a part of a complete family, the three of them watching the sunset from the Ferris Wheel with their fingers still sticky from sugary treats. The reminiscence made her chest feel tight, and she swallowed.

Lysa asked the chauffeur to slow down, and then turned to Robin, the corners of her lips lifting slightly. "What do you think? Would you like to go to the fair, Sweetrobin?" That would be a good way to end the day, wouldn't it? Instead of being left to mull over the counseling session.