Chapter 208: Things That Must Be Done
King's Landing
POV of Petyr Baelish
The mad woman cried as Petyr wrapped his arms around her and consoled her gently and soothingly, like the whores in his fine establishments often did for their tired and stressed customers.
She looked even more ugly than usual in her disheveled state with all the begging and crying.
For a moment, he wondered how Lord Hoster Tully could give birth to two girls who are so different from one another.
Cat, his dear Cat. So beautiful and graceful. And Lysa. Foolish little Lysa would always try to compare herself to her sister and always fell short in all the ways that counted.
At least she was loyal and made for an excellent puppet for his grand plans.
The only price was that he was forced to show his affection for her now and then.
Oh, how he wished that Cat was here right now, in his arms, crying about her unsatisfied marriage rather than Lysa.
But things never go the way you want them to go in your life.
That was one of the important lessons he had learned quite early in his life.
"Please, Petyr. You must help me. He's taking my child away from me." She cried, "Please."
"Of course, Lysa." He said, as soothingly as possible, as he gave her a warm and caring smile, "How could I ever let anyone separate you from your son. And sending them to the Starks on top of that." He shook his head, "I don't know what your husband was thinking."
She shook her head furiously and clutched even more tightly at him. "He's no husband of mine. He never was and he never will be." She sobbed, "You're the only one I've ever loved, Petyr. The only one for me."
"Of course." He smiled, "I would never doubt your love or devotion toward me, my dear Lysa." He hesitated but then kissed her on the lips.
It brought no joy to him.
It never did.
Whenever he kissed her lips, he would go back to the times when he was young and foolish and so madly in love, when he and Cat hid in the Godswood in those warm summer mornings and played the game of kissing.
Lysa's lips never brought any joy to him, not like Cat's used to do before they grew up.
He broke the kiss and then kissed her on the forehead, realizing that if he wanted to take advantage of his plans, then he would have to bring them forward by a few months.
The time for Jon Arryn to leave the world has come.
He pulled Lysa into a hug and smiled the warm smile that she always fell for. That she could never look through, maybe because she knew what hid behind the smile and didn't want to see through it and break her own delusions. "My dear Lysa. Here is what you must do."
Some things had to be done in order to move forward, no matter the consequences. And Petyr knew this.
---------------
Dreadfort Castle, Bolton Lands
POV of Domeric Bolton
Meanwhile, in Dreadfort, Domeric walked alone toward the Godswood. There was something he had been needing to do for a while, but didn't know how to face the consequences.
During his confrontation with the White Walker in the lands beyond the Wall, he had come to realize some unpleasant possibilities about why he had come to this world.
Possibilities like…
He was sent to this world to be a savior of the people and to rid the world of the White Walkers…
And for this, Death intervened in his previous life to guide Domeric to the Veil….
And he was used as a puppet by Death in both of his lives...
And many other similar possibilities crossed Domeric's mind at the time. Now, recalling that moment, he thought he was probably having a panic attack.
And at that moment, he heard a voice in his mind. It was a woman's voice. Soft yet ethereal.
The voice told him that the truth was not what he thought, and that after returning home, he should seek it out in the Godswood. It seemed Domeric's questions would then have all been answered.
But Domeric wasn't sure how much he could trust this claim. He assumed the voice belonged to Death, who had sent him to this world.
But even if Death answered all of Domeric's questions, would Domeric be able to verify their truth?
Or did Death expect Domeric to accept everything it said as accurate?
That's why he kept putting off this conversation with Death.
He had come to the Dreadfort almost every day for the month and a half he spent at Castle Black waiting for the other lords to reach the Wall.
But on none of these visits had he gone to Godswood, though he could have.
His primary reason for delaying his conversation with Death was that he wanted to give it some time to calm down. Domeric couldn't imagine anything good happening to him if their conversation ended in shouting and cursing.
Another reason was his fear of the impact the answers he would receive might have on him.
If Death denied the possibilities Domeric had concocted, Domeric might question the truth of its words and live with doubt in the future.
But what if Death were to tell Domeric's suspicions were correct? If it had truly sent him to this world as a savior of humanity? If it claimed he should be his puppet in this world, and perhaps in many more after that?
Could Domeric continue living after facing such a truth?
Or worse, did Domeric truly have a will of his own? Could he choose life or death if he wanted? Or was his will in the hands of Death?
Domeric had been turning these questions over in his mind for a while, but he finally realized that no matter how much he thought, he wouldn't be able to reach an answer.
From this point on, he needed to have that conversation with Death to move forward. Whether he liked it or not didn't matter.
Some things had to be done in order to move forward, no matter the consequences. And Domeric knew this.
---------------
Author's Note: You folks can also read up to +60 chapters on my P@treon Page as an early access privilege.
You can also read "+3 Free Chapter" and see some pictures as aFree Member.
www.patreon.com/vanguard_v
P@treon Page Name: V For Vanguard
Next Chapters' Name:
Ch.209: Meeting with Lady Death
Ch.210: Clash of Gods
Ch.211: Differences Between Gods