At last, Lysa had won something. She was going to King’s Landing to join her husband who would be the Hand of the King. Jon Arryn was neither as young nor as good looking as her sister’s husband, but Lysa was going to be one of the most important ladies in Westeros, second only to the queen. Catelyn, however, was being sent to the North were she would reign as lady over a frozen and remote castle. No one of consequence would care who Catelyn Stark was or what she thought. Finally, Lysa was going to be the Tully girl who mattered- if not in the eyes of her family, then in the eyes of Westeros.
The only other time that Lysa had felt like she mattered as much as her sister was when she was still a girl and her mother was alive. In those idyllic days Mother would praise Catelyn’s tiny stitches in her embroidery, but then would spend just as much time admiring how lovely Lysa looked in her new frock and how neat Lysa’s letters were, even though she was just learning how to form them. After her mother’s death, nothing was the same. Father withdrew into himself and couldn’t spare a thought for any of his children for many months.
When Hoster Tully emerged from his grief, he saw how his eldest daughter had ensured the smooth running of Riverrun (as much as any nine year old could) in the absence of her parents. From then on Father seemed to rely on Cat while barely giving Lysa a second glance. He made sure that the servants knew to go to Catelyn when they had questions about household affairs. By the time she was twelve Catelyn had essentially taken over as Lady of Riverrun, managing the household efficiently and with grace, keeping accounts in order and welcoming the bannermen who came to Riverrun. As they grew older, Lysa saw how their father would summon Cat to his chambers to discuss important manners and how he would ask her for her advice on how best to handle disputes between his bannermen. Lysa doubted that her father remembered that she existed except when she was in his presence. He didn’t even appear to be spending much time looking for a suitable marriage for her.
Lysa didn’t want Brandon Stark, but she resented the fact that Father had arranged such a good match for her sister. Brandon Stark would be Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North one day. He was handsome and charming, like a hero from the songs, and he always had a smile on his lips and a laugh behind his eyes. It was not that Lysa wanted to marry Brandon Stark- no, she would never want anyone other than her dear Petyr. She just wished her father had cared about her enough to look for an equally impressive match for her. Yes, in all things Catelyn was the priority while Lysa remained an afterthought.
Even Edmure seemed to prefer Cat’s company to her own. After their mother died, he clung to Catelyn skirts and followed her around everywhere. As children the three Tully siblings were thick as thieves and spent many a happy afternoon playing by the river and running through the godswood. Lysa never doubted that her brother loved her, but he still would run to Catelyn with every little hurt. When he was sick, it was Catelyn whose name he’d cry. When he accomplished something in the training yard or in the maester’s lessons, it was Catelyn whom he would seek out to share in his triumph.
The Tully Girl Who Mattered 1/2
The only other time that Lysa had felt like she mattered as much as her sister was when she was still a girl and her mother was alive. In those idyllic days Mother would praise Catelyn’s tiny stitches in her embroidery, but then would spend just as much time admiring how lovely Lysa looked in her new frock and how neat Lysa’s letters were, even though she was just learning how to form them. After her mother’s death, nothing was the same. Father withdrew into himself and couldn’t spare a thought for any of his children for many months.
When Hoster Tully emerged from his grief, he saw how his eldest daughter had ensured the smooth running of Riverrun (as much as any nine year old could) in the absence of her parents. From then on Father seemed to rely on Cat while barely giving Lysa a second glance. He made sure that the servants knew to go to Catelyn when they had questions about household affairs. By the time she was twelve Catelyn had essentially taken over as Lady of Riverrun, managing the household efficiently and with grace, keeping accounts in order and welcoming the bannermen who came to Riverrun. As they grew older, Lysa saw how their father would summon Cat to his chambers to discuss important manners and how he would ask her for her advice on how best to handle disputes between his bannermen. Lysa doubted that her father remembered that she existed except when she was in his presence. He didn’t even appear to be spending much time looking for a suitable marriage for her.
Lysa didn’t want Brandon Stark, but she resented the fact that Father had arranged such a good match for her sister. Brandon Stark would be Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North one day. He was handsome and charming, like a hero from the songs, and he always had a smile on his lips and a laugh behind his eyes. It was not that Lysa wanted to marry Brandon Stark- no, she would never want anyone other than her dear Petyr. She just wished her father had cared about her enough to look for an equally impressive match for her. Yes, in all things Catelyn was the priority while Lysa remained an afterthought.
Even Edmure seemed to prefer Cat’s company to her own. After their mother died, he clung to Catelyn skirts and followed her around everywhere. As children the three Tully siblings were thick as thieves and spent many a happy afternoon playing by the river and running through the godswood. Lysa never doubted that her brother loved her, but he still would run to Catelyn with every little hurt. When he was sick, it was Catelyn whose name he’d cry. When he accomplished something in the training yard or in the maester’s lessons, it was Catelyn whom he would seek out to share in his triumph.