"Lysa!"
Having Catelyn chase after her was the last thing the younger Tully sister wanted. Lysa continued to storm down the corridors of Riverrun, shoving doors open and cursing under her breath. She could almost hear her perfect older sister scolding her. Lysa, how could you? Lysa, what have you done? Lysa!
"Lysa, for goodness sake!" Catelyn shouted. "Just stop right there!"
Lysa did. She could not run forever. Sooner or later, Catelyn would corner her and interrogate her. Running would also be detrimental to the growing child in her womb.
"Yes, yes..." Lysa groaned, turning to glare at her sister. "I know what you are going to say! How could I lie with Petyr? How could I lose my maidenhead to a man I am not married to? Just leave me alone, alright?!"
It satisfied the younger sister to see Catelyn shocked at her behaviour. Lysa knew that she was not known for her extroverted personality. Occasionally, it offended her. Older lords and ladies liked to patronise her like a little doll, whereas when it came to Catelyn, they respected her. And why would they not? She stood tall and made interesting conversations with everyone around her.
"That was not what I was going to say," Catelyn said.
"Then, what were you going to say?" Lysa's temper was yet to dissipate. "I know you. You strut about this place like a princess, and when you hear about people doing things that you do not approve of, you look at them as if they no more than common whores!"
"That is not true!" Catelyn's voice was starting to rise. "I admit that I can be judgemental, but that is not why I am here." She paused. "I came to ask... why did you not tell me sooner?"
Lysa cooled slightly, not expecting such a gentle question. "W-what?"
"I heard about what father was trying to do."
The younger sister's face softened. Rumours about her pregnancy circled the castle. She had once overheard the cooks gossiping and giggling about her soiled state. Lysa had not predicted that Catelyn would hear about Lord Hoster Tully's orders.
"He was the first person to notice that my stomach was showing," she confessed. "He demanded who the father was, and I told him. When he gave me moon tea, I smashed the cup against the wall. I was already months along. In fact, I am currently six months along. I could not... I could not let him kill my child. Petyr's child."
Catelyn nodded as she spoke, understanding. "I wish you told me. I could have helped you."
Lysa stared, bewildered. "You... you would?"
"Do you not remember the words of House Tully? Family, Duty, Honor. Family comes first, and I would never force my sister to abort her baby. After all, you are carrying my nephew."
Lysa broke into a smile, and sighed in gratitude. "Or niece," she added. "We'll have to wait until the birth. Oh, Catelyn, I may have sinned but I am ever so excited to have this baby."
Catelyn held out her hand and escorted Lysa down to the godswood, where the latter had tried to escape before the confrontation. The two sisters brushed past tall grasses and balanced themselves on the rocky pavement. In front of the heart tree stood a stone bench. Lysa set herself down on the sculpture and rubbed the roundness of her belly.
"Strange..." Lysa murmured.
"Strange?" Catelyn repeated.
"This time next week, we'll be married."
"Oh, yes. It does feel quite strange. Neither of us will be able to live here anymore."
"I wish I did not have to leave," Lysa admitted. "I want to stay here with my baby."
"As do I. But soon, I will be in Winterfell with Lord Stark."
"And I will be in The Eyrie, trapped with an old man."
Catelyn looked up across the godswood and flicked her eyes down at her sister. "Lysa, do not call him that..."
"But it's true! You are lucky that you are betrothed to a man your age. I have to marry an old man!"
Upon finishing that sentence, Lysa heard a presence shuffling towards her. She turned to find her father accompanied by another man. She blanched. She had completely forgotten that Jon Arryn was to visit her today. Hoster Tully was not impressed by her outburst. He crossed his arms and glared at her.
"I was trying to warn you," Lysa heard Catelyn whisper to her.
"Catelyn," their father commanded. "Could you please go back to the castle? I would like a word with Lysa."
Catelyn bowed and walked past the heart tree, turning back once to show concern.
"Lysa," Lord Tully began. "You have met Lord Arryn."
"Yes, father," Lysa replied.
"He would like to have a word with you in private. I expect you to be on your best behaviour."
The last sentence sounded like a threat, yet if it were less patronising, Lysa would be mildly intimidated. Luckily, her father was not a violent man. But Lord Tully carried a stern look everywhere when he was unhappy.
He excused himself and followed Catelyn's trail, leaving Lysa alone with this elderly lord. Jon Arryn stood tall for his age, but his wrinkled face and pale complexion betrayed him. The man took a step towards her and kneeled at her feet.
"Lady Tully," Lord Arryn greeted. "You have grown since the last time I saw you."
They had met just two years before, only briefly. Lysa and Lord Arryn had been introduced to each other, before her father sent her away to play with Petyr in her mother's beloved garden.
"It has been a while, my lord," Lysa did her best to sound sincere.
"Please, call me Jon." The man said. He was still kneeling, but he looked up at her with attentive eyes. "We are to be married soon."
She shuddered at the thought, but kept her posture. "Yes, Jon."
"My lady, may I call you Lysa?" He asked. When she nodded, he continued. "Lysa, I know that you are not keen for this marriage, and I am very sorry to hear that. You are right, though; I am long past my prime. And with you being a young lady, I know that I am not what you wish me to be. But I will make you a promise."
For a moment, Lysa felt sorry for this man. Her outburst had been no short of disrespectful to Lord Arryn, a person of experience. She waited for him to define his promise.
"I promise to look after you. I will never raise a hand to hurt you and I will ensure that you are safe and healthy. You will be my lady and rule alongside me in The Vale."
"Thank you, my lord. I mean, Jon," Lysa corrected herself. "I appreciate your kindness, but I must ask you to make one more promise." She took a breath and reached for her belly. "Do you promise that I will be able to watch my child grow, and that he or she will be well-attended to?"
"Yes, Lysa. I was about to mention your babe. He or she may be a natural child, but I will take good care of it as if it were my own."
She looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of a lie. When she could not find anything suspicious, Lysa released a silent sigh. The young Tully could not help but cry in relief.
She had heard of men so determined to rid of their women's bastard that they slayed their wives. Jon Arryn may have been a disappointment to have to marry, but she knew he spoke true.
"I lost a child myself when I was younger," he explained. "I do not wish to have you experience the same tragedy. Here, take this, my lady." He handed her a handkerchief, and Lysa proceeded to wipe her face.
"Thank you," she wept. "I would not know what to do if he took my child away from me."
Jon knew who "he" was. "Your father thought he was doing right by you," he said. "He had informed me of your situation not too long ago. I did not just come here to visit my betrothed; I came to tell him not to harm the child."
Lysa cried even harder, her thankful tears rushing down her cheeks. "Truly? Oh, Lord Arryn... Jon... thank you..."
The man reached for her hand and shushed her gently.
"Don't cry, Lysa. Everything will be just fine."