Chapter Text
Time slowed to a halt as she stared at the man she loved, the man she had done everything for, as he betrayed her love and loyalty. Her eyes widened with shock; fear clouded her brain. Her vision was momentarily distorted as her red hair was flung around by the unforgiving wind. It reminded her of blood. Her vision tunneled to his face, fear making it difficult to focus on the world around her. The smooth stone glinting dimly in the white sun, the plush greenery reminding her of home, of Riverrun. The wind was biting at her dress and skin, red marks appearing on her skin like love bites from death.
His face was the image of despair, but his eyes showed his true nature, his eyes were smug. Triumphant. The hands that used to touch her so softly were hard and cruel as he flung her from the Moondoor, the contraption that so many criminals and enemies had died through, now being used against her. Killing her like a common criminal, like she was nothing. She reached out a hand as he turned away, her large fingers clawing at the sky to reach him. The same sky that as she fell seemed to both cling to her and reject her, her aged, gnarled hands staring back at her along with her Beloved's back as she fell towards the hard unforgiving earth.
The sound of her life blood was rushing through her ears and her own erratic heartbeat were the only things she heard over the sound of the shrieking wind, or are they my screams I'm hearing instead? The sound was not unlike that of a vengeful wraith that was seeking justice for the injustice they had faced. Her situation looming on her now, she was that vengeful wraith. Had she not dedicated her life, honour and duty to this man? Had she not lied for him and killed for him? And this, this was her reward for helping the man of her dreams, being tossed aside when a better, younger, more perfect version came along. Dearest Sansa, who looked so much like her late mother. It made her blood boil. Hate and envy rising within her like the ocean’s tides.
Here she was once again being passed over for the wonderful, perfect Catelyn, precious Catelyn, can never do anything wrong and always does and says the right thing Catelyn. Had Lysa not tried her best to measure up to the unattainable perfect Catelyn? Bruised, bloated and bled to shape herself in the image of Catelyn only to be found lacking despite the hard work she puts in, the hours of time she dedicates to be better, to try and surpass her in every way only to be compared to her and being nothing more than a bad copy –
Why can you not be more like Catelyn, Lysa
Catelyn’s stitches are always so neat Lysa,
Try to be more like Catelyn Lysa
She’s so graceful when she’s dancing it is like her feet never touch the ground
So beautiful
So gracious
BeMoreLikeCatelynLysa
You can never measure up to her
Everybody’s favourite girl
As her life faded, her heart wasn’t seeking her Many Faced God to guide her, no longer faithful to the God who had done nothing except punish her, had never answered any of her prayers. Her heart wailing at the injustice she had faced. The taste of vengeance lingering on her tongue like bitter lemons, sharp and pungent. Give me my justice her soul called –reached- out into the void hoping that something would reach back. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Oh, Sweet Lysa” A sweet voice echoed around her; the voice had layered tones she was unable to decipher whether it was a female or a male talking to her, there was no indication that it was either. She was surrounded by blistering white, it was formless, but the ground seemed solid underneath her feet, her toes were small rosy against the pale floor. She was wearing a shift she hadn’t seen in many moons, the light cream cotton softly swaying in nonexistent breeze she hadn’t worn this since before she was ten name days old. Her body was back to how it was when she was younger, gone was her bloated, wrinkled body and face the years had melted away, she missed the time when her body hadn’t served as a cage, a reminder of her failures.
“Your life has not been easy little one, filled with regrets, pitfalls and hardships. Some that you have created and some that had been created by those around you, and you had to reap those consequences didn’t you my dear.” The voice came again, coming from no visible source. But it had the same soothing tone that she remembered from her own mother’s voice. The fondness and warmth of the voice wrapped around and spread love through her bones. When was the last time she had heard someone refer to her with fondness? Or their love filling her up and overflowing? Had she ever felt that way?
“You are to be given a choice little Lysa,” the voice took her out of her musing, a choice? About what?
“Lysa you are dead, you cannot go back to your previous life or make any amends with people there. Your soul is deeply damaged, far too long has it been neglected of love and care. The life you led was not the one I had planned for you. But this is all irrelevant now. In another world there is also a Lysa who died within the same second as you did” Another Lysa? Am I being replaced yet again, or is this salvation, I do not have to deal with my life any longer, as I no longer live it? Is this not a blessing in disguise?
“The other Lysa has been watching your life since she was young, where you were a character within a play. She felt empathy and sympathy for you. She too knew what it was like to be overlooked and discarded by the people who should’ve protected her. She watched as you were driven to madness by your beloved, your father, your husband and your sister. She watched and could do nothing wishing to know what you would be like if you had a protector, wanting to be your protector.” Lysa felt tears springing to her eyes. She had never really had someone who wanted to protect her that wasn’t duty bound or obligated. Whatever this question was, she thought, I think I will say yes. This other Lysa wants to be my protector, she wants to save me like I am one of those princesses in the stories.
“If you allow her to live your life and made sure that the next time, I meet Lysa Tully , she will have been surrounded by those who loved her. So, what say you Lysa tully of Riverrun, would you allow Lysa Johnson of earth live your life?” Yes, I was right, the choice would be easy, let someone else suffer through my hardships, I will never have to live through scorn and dismissal ever again. Her choice was made.
“My answer is yes,” Her voice was clear and childish, the tone matching her child body. The void seemed pleased at her answer, a peaceful feeling came coursing through her body, her life was flashing through her mind. The sad, dull childhood, always hiding, always doing something wrong. The babies she lost, gone from her, having to be happy for her sister and her bountiful womb. Her vile husband who was nothing like Petyr, but he had also betrayed her in the end as well. Every event of her life flashing into the forefront of her mind leaving quickly until there was nothing left. The image of Lysa Tully stood in this bleached out void, mind empty and soul losing its tethers to the body fading out of existence.
A bright crimson orb streaked through the void, veering around, it was out of control. It swerved one last time before it slammed into the immobile body. The force knocked over the body and it plummeted through the floor of the void and out of sight.
"What a shame," the voice of the void mused, "I had wanted to explain the situation to her before she left. At least this will be entertaining."