“Don’t worry, my lady. I only came to look at the water.” Edrik said gently, nodding his head in what could have been taken as a shallow bow. “The Maester doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” He continued, looking as the boy ran around. “Ye can learn to know the gods, but ye don’t learn to understand them.”
He shot her a quick smile, watching her as she turned so sad. He stepped in a little, closing just a bit more of the distance between them. “A beautiful boy, my lady. I apologise. I do not know yer face or yer name.” His eyes followed the boy again, a smile creeping onto his face. He loved children. Not being a father at his age was one of the things that pained him in his days.
“Let him be, please. I played here as a child as well. Tripped, fell, scraped my knees on rocks and roots.”
“I suppose. It’s not what I grew up with- the gods of this grove, I mean. I will admit I would feel happier with him in the sept praying to the Father, but duty dictates otherwise.” Little Benedict dug his nails into the bark of a tree, hoisting himself up to the closest branch he could grasp for, waving down at his mother and the dark stranger.
She offered him a slight smile, rubbing away any tears that had leaked to the corners of her eyes away with the back of her hand, offering a curtsy as she clutched baby Ned tight until he gave a small gurgle, looking over Edrik with the curiosity that only an infant could have in their eyes. “Lysa Blackwood, lady regent of the house. The Lord Blackwood looks to be climbing the firs.” A scraped knee from a fall or drop might teach him some caution, provided her son didn’t try to climb too far.
“Perhaps, then, you might tell me the function of such a place? I know at the least that it is meant to be a place of worship, but I see little in the way of offerings.” She hoped her words would not offend.
“Ah, please don’t splash in the puddle, Benedict!”
Lysa’s voice rang out through the godswood, a harsh contrast against the relative quiet of her son playing among the roots and branches, now tip-toeing past the pools of mud and water barely hidden by five-pointed leaves. The Lady Regent bounced her younger son in her arms, looking on with worry as Benedict nearly tripped over the gnarled root of a tree limb.
She had not been expecting company, but would not turn it away in the chill of the godswood, with little to do other than oversee her son’s actions. “The maester said that allowing him to play here will help him develop a connection with the old gods,” she near-mumbled, her brow furrowing as Benedict began jumping to reach a low hanging branch with leaves. “Two husbands of the faith and I’m afraid I still don’t understand the rituals.” Her tone was slightly pained now, with a redness in her eyes. “But, um, it’s what he would have wanted, I know that.”
Lysa gave a soft sniffle, giving baby Ned another bounce, as clinical as a motherly movement could be. “Forgive me, I shouldn’t have imposed upon you in that way. If you came to pray I-” She searched frantically for something to say. “I’ll take Benedict inside so he won’t disturb.”
the courts offer bread and salt to LYSA BLACKWOOD née WHENT of HOUSE BLACKWOOD. many say that the TWENTY FIVE year old LADY REGENT of RAVENTREE HALL is known to be MATERNAL and EMPATHETIC, though ill tongues whisper that she is MELANCHOLIC and SLOTHFUL. may she be blessed and protected in this war of crowns.
hi everyone!! i’m super happy to be here with you. more about lysa to follow under the cut!
lysa blackwood was born the eldest daughter of lord brynden whent his wife. her birth was preceded by her two elder brothers, and thus she was quite the joy for her mother, who had longed for a girl since she had married lord whent
lysa came to love all things that her mother taught her, from immaculate rows of stitches to plucking solemnly at harpstrings. their house was strong in numbers, if not prone to fits of disease. while the lord and lady whent would go on to have many more children, only five would survive past infancy, with lysa being the middle child of those.
lysa never made much of an attempt to befriend anyone besides her mother. the two were as thick as thieves, and the growing girl couldn’t have asked for a better friend than her mother, unknowing of how she was slowly driving her sisters away from her. little minisa and jeyne would go on to make many more friends than her.
in the same month as her first flowering she was betrothed to the heir to the neck, son of the lord reed. while not the strong and dashing knight of the faith that she had been dreaming of, lysa found comfort in the fact that one day she would be a high lady, ruling over others. it was not until it was made clear that she would have to be separated from her mother that she began to loathe the idea.
the marriage did not take place for nearly four years, as per her mother’s wishes, until she could be considered mature enough to bear child easily. lysa’s wedding train proceeded solemnly to the north, with no one more despondent than the bride-to-be herself. she said her final goodbyes to her family before she took her vows to her husband under the eyes of both the old gods and the new. by the time she awoke the next morning they had already departed.
what happened next was both fortune and misfortune for lysa. within two months of her marriage a pox swept through the neck. lysa had caught it in her youth and was largely unaffected, but the crannogmen of house reed suffered as large scabs and welts appeared on their chest and face. most recovered, some did not. lysa’s husband was one of the unlucky few who perished.
at the age of eighteen she had already been widowed once. lysa stayed at the floating houses of the crannogmen for a while longer until all could be sure she was not with child, and then she was solemnly sent back to her father’s household by her former goodfather.
lysa was more than happy to see her mother again, but her father was unwilling to let his eldest daughter become a celibate widow so young. before her mourning period was even out he was already haggling over a dowry for her again, this time with lord blackwood, a young man who required a wife from a family of high status, and lysa was the only unmarried woman within his age range.
her second marriage was happier, and lasted longer. brynden blackwood was patient with her in explaining the ways of the old gods, as the blackwoods were one of the few families below the neck who kept prayer with them. where as the reeds had been a quiet and solemn bunch, but the blackwoods were a traditional riverlander family, with celebrations and warmth unique to their holdfast.
soon, lysa was with child, and gave birth to a happy and healthy boy, the light of his parent’s eyes. for the first time in her life, lysa could say she was truly in love with another. she was more than content to be doted upon all her life by brynden while she took care of little benedict. in another two years she would once again be pregnant, again with a small boy.
however it seemed that nothing good could stay in lysa’s life. the same pox that took her first husband claimed her second, along with the life of her secondborn, sweet robb, who had cheeks as red as apples and dark raven curls.
brynden did leave her one last gift though- a third child growing in her womb, a sickly boy who seemed deathly small. lysa had to be pressured by the septas around her to allow the child to nurse as his mother sank into a deep depression without her loving husband there to help her through her pain and heartbreak. she could barely name him without thinking of how brynden had chosen the names of their children, but after nearly two months of prodding and insistence by her goodbrother, the small boy was named ned.
ned would live, unlike his father, but he could not cure his mother’s melancholy.
