I'm falling right back in love with being alive
Lord Arryn refuses to wed her.
He says that after having been wed twice and only death to show for it, he would not wish to pain himself or another wife with the likelihood of more pain, and instead his infant grand-nephew will be his successor.
It irks at Lysa's pride, a bit, that an old man would refuse a young bride proven capable of bearing heirs - even a ruin, like herself - but she doesn't complain. Not spending the rest of her life the wife of a man with breath like a mouldy peach is hardly a punishment. Hoster Tully, however, is more than capable of committing his daughter to a punishment. Mostly, it seems to take form in forbidding her to leave Riverrun (not much of a problem, given the war), nor the presence of Septa Mordane until Cat goes North (actually something of a punishment, given that Lysa and Mordane have held a special level of disdain for each other ever since Lysa was a small child and proved herself incapable of being Cat).
It isn't until the war is over, and Robert Baratheon is king, and Cersei Lannister is his queen, and Lyanna Stark is dead, and Cat is leaving, taking her (bright, healthy couldhavebeenLysa'seasilyhelookedsomuchlikeher) son with her up to the lands of eternal snow, and Petyr is gone, has been for moons but his child that was in Lysa is gone too and - Lysa looks around and realises just how alone she is now. No husband to take her away from Riverrun, a father she wishes wasn't her father, no child (even though she had one, was going to have one but damnyoutohellHosterTullyandtakeyourbloodyFamilyDutyHONOURwithyou), and Edmure and Uncle Brynden clearly wanting Cat to be home rather than Lysa (naturally). Lysa, as always, is alone, and unwanted.
Of course, despite Lysa's whole bloody existence being an exercise in family shame, she cannot become the spinster of House Tully - not if Hoster has anything to say about it.
Not that Lysa is aware of this - there is no reason for the (quietly, silently, noonemustknow) disgraced daughter of Riverrun to be attending the meetings of the King.
The coronation of King Robert Baratheon I, First of His Name, is a grand, lavish affair, and the wedding to the Light of the West, Cersei Lannister, is an exercise in even more stomach-churning wealth, and when the grand lords gather together in private rooms in the days later, Hoster Tully quietly finds a solution to his daughter and his desire for interconnection between House Tully and other houses paramount.
While Hoster does not always find it palatable when women jut their noses into men's politics, he is not foolish enough to ignore the fact that Mace Tyrell is clearly not the brains of House Tyrell - that falls to Olenna Redwyne.
A shrewd, shrivelled woman, Lady Olenna agrees to consider the match - her eldest grandson is only four years Lysa's junior, after all, and between Tyrell and Tully looks, she was not likely to receive ugly grandchildren from a union. Lysa would not be unhappy in Highgarden, Hoster thinks. Willas Tyrell may only be ten, but there is still more than enough time for him to grow into a good-son worthy of House Tully, and a knight besides. Lysa's shame would remain a secret - only four-and-ten, she was too young to have an indiscretion to her name. He just had to wait a few years, for the fruits of his plans to bloom.
Hoster Tully and his family leave the capital within a week of King Robert's conciliation of power, Hoster in good spirits.
Hoster doesn't mention any kind of betrothal to Lysa at all, in the following months after the war. Lysa is fine living in the dark of her Lord father's machinations - thinking of marriage, of having a child . . it hurts; a silent throbbing pain where a fantasy of that life might once have lived.
Cat writes, every few weeks. Winterfell is beautiful, apparently. Nothing like they'd giggled over, whispered over, when they were younger and still maidens, as opposed to mothers. Robb, Cat's little boy, is growing like a weed, babbling at everything. Cat finds she likes her husband - except for the bastard boy Lord Stark brought back, whom Cat takes care not to mention except in passing (yet Lysa can tell, even from the page, how much the boy's existence hurts her sister), Cat's new life seems to make her flourish.
(Of course it is, Cat gets everything andLysagetsthescrapswhywouldLysaeverbefoolishenoughtothinkdifferent-)
Lysa tries her hand at what Cat did over their childhood - being the Lady of Riverrun. She isn't trying to step into Cat's shoes, gods only know how they'd never fit, but Lysa needs something to do, and Riverrun's library does not hold so many books that Lysa can feign interest in, nor does conducting nothing but embroidery for the rest of her life sound all that appealing, she no longer has a Septa, Mordane having gone north to preach to whatever future daughters Cat brings into the world, and Edmure is only barely beginning serious practice with weaponry - and he does not want Lysa's attentions when they both know he'd rather have Cat's.
She does take up a hobby of beekeeping - she finds the rhythm of collecting the honey, caring for the hive to be soothing, in a mechanical sort of way. She can do it without thinking too hard, which is nice. She only seems to think, these days. It isn't as if she has much by way of companionship.
She doesn't quite fit as smoothly into Cat's role as Lady, nor does she have a deft hand at numbers - she stumbles in places, but going by the smiles she gets from the steward and the housekeepers, she isn't doing too badly. She'll always be the second daughter of Riverrun, but maybe . . maybe Lysa can carve a little space for herself in the foundations.
Maybe she won't always be the lesser shadow of Cat. Maybe.
Father deigns him to be almost-a-man when he's four-and-ten - he's got a hair on his chest and everything to prove it, so he must be. Willas isn't particularly good at jousting, and he's competent with a sword and very good at archery, but Father wants him in the jousting runs. Willas isn't entirely certain, but he does it anyway.
Oberyn Martell is very good at apologising, apparently. He sends his own chosen maester to look at Willas' leg, along with the one sent by Uncle Leyton from Oldtown and the one sent from Highgarden, the three of them apparently bickering over the injury as Willas groaned in painful unconsciousness.
It isn't until he's been awake for nine consecutive days that they actually break the news to him – that he'd need a cane to walk for the rest of his days. He'd never be a proper knight. Never joust again (now, what was the tragedy of that?). And with the injury, marriage options would drop, heir to Highgarden or not.
Right up until Granny putters in and informs Mother that Willas has been betrothed to Lysa Tully for the last four years, why hadn't Father mentioned this before?
(What.)
Again, but roughly a hundred miles away: what.
Well, at least Lysa now has proof that Hoster Tully would always manoeuvre himself into the most politically advantageous match he could - and that Cat was always to be his favoured daughter. Cat had known of her betrothal from the moment Hoster could arrange it, yet Lysa has been betrothed for four years and yet knew nothing of it. Somehow, Lysa isn't even surprised. Making choices without bothering to ask her: the Hoster Tully tradition since 268 AC.
Still, despite the news that Lord Willas Tyrell is now a cripple, Lysa cannot bring herself to care overmuch about it: she is a stained woman (nevermindHosterkeepingitapuresecretbecausenoonecanknow), four years her husband-to-be's senior. Cripple or not, Lysa is the lucky one of this match. She smiles at the announcement, thanking her Lord Father (Hosterheisnofatherofhersfathersdon'thurttheirdaughtersthewayhedid) before turning away to turn back to her day-to-day work. She is not to marry Lord Willas for another year, when he is five-and-ten. There is still time for this news to become sour. Lysa is not holding her breath for happiness to be possible in her life.
Hoster Tully made sure of that.
okay, so this is crackity crackity crack crack crack.
obviously.
however, i mostly thought of this because of the theory that hoster tully wanted both his daughters marrying into Lords Paramount houses (or is this canon? i need to check), and theres only so many eligible bachelors for THOSE positions. the ASOIAF wiki says that Willas was born between 270 and 276 AC, and Lysa 266 and 268, so for the purposes of this fic, Willas was born 272 AC, Lysa 268, so there's a four-year age difference and Lysa is 14-15 during Bob's Rebellion.
I actually had to write that shit down because I CANT MATH.
(also i find the thing in some fics super weird where everyone and their mother seems to know lysa had an abortion? in canon not even CAT knew until hoster was dying - lysa hoster and the then-riverrun maester kym were the only ones who knew. it was secret. stop with this thing.)
this was gonna be a longfic but it turns out that i'm really bad at those, so this is gonna be a chapter thing.