Trick or Treat!
Borrowed from the lovely just_a_dram
In honor of All Hallow's Eve, I'm inviting trick-or-treaters to my 'door.' Comment "trick-or-treat" to this post and...well, you know the drill. Treats can be anything that strikes my fancy (pics of fave actors or pairings, one sentence fics, graphics, a few words why I'm glad to have you on my flist, etc. etc.). The more " ( Read more... )
The dim light of his candle flickers in the arches of the catacombs, casting eerie shadows along each wall. He can hear the dripping of dirty water falling on the stone passages-
"The dead bodies are leaking...they swell and stink and then they drip with a foul green liquid that sinks into the stones and lets their spirits enter the house..." Jaime whispers, and he rolls his eyes when Lysa gasps in reply.
He's just spent a tedious afternoon walking his new wife around the grounds of Casterly Rock (at his father's demand, of course). She gaped with wonderment at the elaborate furnishings, the gold and obsidian and onyx and marble. When they reached the Hall of Heroes, she started in with her strange, insipid questions, the ones that she asks in that queer, high tone, the ones that have no clear answer...
The catacombs came to him in a flash of inspiration- may as well let Lady Lannister see everything there is to see at the Rock.
Her bony fingers sink deep into his bicep, and he thinks for a moment to recoil in disgust. If he were to make up such tales with Cersei, she'd slap his shoulder and call him a liar...or she would try to surpass him with an even gorier story. But Lysa only clings to his side like an anxious pup, her eyes wide and limpid and incredulous. There's no challenge in it, no fun to be had- he feels the burn of frustration coursing up from his belly to his chest, turning to anger by the time it reaches his throat.
Lysa opens her mouth to speak- likely to ask yet another idiotic question or to utter some bizarre non-sequitur- but before she can say anything, Jaime blows out the candle, submerging them in complete darkness. As she begins to whimper, he shoves her aside and races away to the hidden passage that leads up onto the main grounds- he knows it without seeing, he and Cersei know every passageway, every corridor, every nook, every cranny.
He climbs the steps leading upward, and he listens as Lysa's whimpers turn to screams and sobs. His lips twist into a sneer, and the sound is rough in his throat when he begins to laugh.
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And ohhhh I love screwed-up hypothetical Jaime/Lysa scenarios tooooo! WHY DO WE LOVE TO TORTURE LYSA SO MUCH? Because ugh, you know that seventeen-year-old Jaime WOULD be a total dick to any girl he had to marry. Honestly, he'd probably be a dick in that situation at ANY age...but you know what I mean. ;P
I'M SO GLAD YOU LIKED IT, MY LOVE!
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