Riverrun, 282 AC
Petyr has been sent home by Lord Hoster for a few weeks now. Lord Tully has been mad at him for dueling Brandon, threatening the alliance with the Starks he has been trying to establish. The boy has been so badly injured during this fight that Hoster has honestly thought he would pass away.
Today, Lord Hoster is working in his room, examining the new taxes ordered by King Aerys. He sighs as he thinks about his future son-in-law, off to King's Landing, despite Hoster trying to calm him down. Stark's hot blood will be their doom, he thinks as he stares blankly through the window. And Aerys is not known for being merciful. He remembers last time he saw the King, at the Harrenhal tourney: how long and dirty his hair was. Seeing his hands and his 6 inches long nails have made him want to throw up. But, he is the King, and will be until his death. Then Rhaegar will get on the throne and life will probably be the same for most of people of Westeros. Singing songs with a harp does not feed people. Farmers feed people. Although, Rhaegar does not look mad or cruel. He will make the life of the Lords, and thus those of the small folk easier. A knock on the door makes Hoster start and he sits up in his chair, clearing his throat:
"Come in!" he says.
The door opens and Lysa gets in, grinning hugely. Hoster raises an eyebrow: his daughter has been pretty stern since Petyr left. Hoster has known she loved him almost right away. Girls, his girls even more, are not very good with hiding their feelings. When they try, at least. Seeing her genuinely happy warmed his heart and he gives her a sweet smile:
"Hello Lysa. You look happy"
Lysa rushes on him and hugs him tight:
"I am Father. I am so happy", she whispers in his ear and her hair tickles him, making him chuckle.
"I can tell", Hoster strokes her hair and looks at her. Her eyes are shining with happy tears:
"Father, I am with child."
Hoster's smile disappears as suddenly as it had come. He stands up brutally:
"Are you kidding me?"
Lysa startles and recoils, looking down:
"N-no", she mutters.
"Who is the father?" he asks, even if he knows the answer she is going to give him.
"Petyr", Lysa honestly says. "I wish to marry him, Father."
Hoster rubs his face and stares at her:
"This cannot be", he asserts.
Lysa looks up at him, and, on her face too, all sign of happiness has vanished.
"I do not want my child to be a bastard!" she protests. "I love him! I want to marry him!"
"A Baelish cannot marry a Tully", Hoster calmly explains. "They are too low born for you, my daughter."
Lysa snorts loudly:
"I do not care about this! He is nice and he loves me, I know he does. And he is smart, so smart, Father, you do not realize how high he is going to rise. One day, he will be more powerful than you", she provokes him.
Hoster does not answer the provocation: she is upset, he understands it well. He sighs and walks to her, takes her hands in his:
"You need to understand how things work in this world, Lysa. You are a noble girl, and you will marry who I tell you to marry. Even if you were a small folk, you will marry who your father tells you to marry. There are no such things as love marriage in Westeros. Love is slow to build; it does not happen on the spot. And when it does, it is a destructive love, just as what you have lived with Petyr. Do you think Cat loves Brandon? Do you think he loves her?"
Lysa shakes her head, tears rolling down on her cheeks:
"I don't know", she sobs.
"Alliances are created with marriage. Some of these marriages will remain loveless forever. And with some, love will happen, with time. I know it is hard to accept this, but, do not worry: we will find a man for you, who will love you and treat you well", Hoster says gently, his thumbs stroking the delicate skin of his daughter.
Lysa nods slowly: she does not want a man. She wants Petyr. But she has to obey her father, and marry the man he chooses for her, as Cat is going to marry Brandon Stark.
Hoster looks at her: he has not talked about the baby, but there are no choices here: she needs to get rid of it. He knows her: she will never agree and could do something really stupid like running away to find Petyr back. Lord Tully wraps his strong arms around his daughter and whispers:
"I will ask Maester Kym to prepare you something for the baby. Something to make it strong."
He feels her smiling against his cheek and she whispers:
"Thank you, Father. Please, find a man who will accept my baby…"
He shuts his eyes tight and nods:
"I will."
As she relaxes against him, he opens his eyes and stares blankly at the wall in front of them. Forgive me…
When she leaves, he joins Maester Kym and asks him to prepare moon tea. Kym is surprised but Hoster orders him not to ask anything and to just get the potion ready. Kym nods and bows before preparing it. In the evening, Hoster gets in Lysa's chamber with the tea and makes her drink it. She smiles and thanks him. He shivers with shame, but he knows this is the best solution. He knows how bastards are treated in Westeros and he does not wish this for his daughter. He kisses her brow and leaves. His sleep is much tormented this night.
He wakes up suddenly in the morning, yells ringing out in the castle: before he can stand up, Cat rushes in his room, Aylis and Edmure on her tracks:
"Father! It's Lysa! She is very sick!"
Hoster orders them to leave outside and that he will see Lysa. He does not need to: as soon as tey leave, Lysa arrives in his chamber. Wearing a nightgown, her beautiful hair tangled and half falling on her pale face, her mouth rolled over in a grimace of pain, she stumbles there.
"What have you done?" she yells with a hoarse voice, letting him think she has been yelling for a moment. "Look at what you've done?!" she yells louder, showing her nightgown, and blood staining the fabric between her legs.
"Lysa, pleas", Hoster starts but she starts yelling and crying at the same time.
"You have killed my baby! How dare you?!"
She collapses on the floor and sways, holding her knees, in a fetal position. How ironic it is… She does not yell anymore: she just cries, loudly, weeping over her dead baby.
"Petyr", she sobs. "Petyr… my baby… I'm sorry Petyr, I'm so sorry…"
Hoster stares at her, unable to move, unable to comfort her. She shouts, a terrible and weeping shout and she gives her father the most hateful look he has ever seen:
"I will never forgive you this! Never! You hear me, Father? You are nothing to me anymore! Nothing!"
Hoster does not answer. He just stares at her, raising his hand as if he wanted to move towards her, but lowering it down again and clenching his fists on the sheet. He does not know how long she stays here, but, when he looks up at her, she has left. He stands up and walks to the window: he sees Cat, Edmure and Aylis, lying on the grass, obviously having a talk all the three of us. Catelyn notices her father's figure and joyfully waves at him. In his chamber, Hoster, his face covered with tears, tries to smile and waves back at her.