#lothor brune

[alaynasansa]

Sansa Week 2024 : day three - friends & foes

[wpmorse]

"Ser Lothor, the Reward"

Sansa pg 839

[aurora-light-blog]

“The Favor” ASoIaF Fanfiction

This short clip of a story was created from my liking of Mya Stone and Lothor Brune ship. I don’t like it so much for the “age and youth” as Littlefinger would say. I rather like it for two individuals with similar hardships. Both Lothor and Mya were rejected by their family and outcasted. Lothor was by House Brune, and Mya was as the King’s bastard neglected daughter. They both had to survive on their own and learn a trade (though readers weren’t told if her mother had taught her the trade). I had read fellow writer’s iheartdramas fanfics that were so cute. They helped inspire me to write this tale.

*Spoiler* I also listened to other fans’ theories and thoughts about Myranda Royce. She’s my little spy in the story, and she was fun to write. https://archiveofourown.org/works/47599894

Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this.

[allovesthings]

The Hand’s tourney really is the perfect chapter for set up of characters and plots coming:

We’ve got Thoros of Myr mentioned

The Royce coming to Winterfell and being allies to the North, foreshadowing both the Vale being loyal to th north after the war and the link between house Royce and house Stark in particular.

Balon Swann and Lothor Brune are also at the tourney.

Loras get his big introduction against the mountain

It is also the first interaction between Sansa,the Hound and Baelish which are extremely important for her arcs.

We also get to see some of Baristan prouesse as a knight and we get to witness the brutality of the Mountain for the first time.

Is it also the first description of a long long dinner, I mean they had one in Winterfell but not an entire chapter on what they eat, right ?

[nogoodsheepstealing-greatgrandma]

[jackoshadows]

Reading posts about how marrying Sansa is going to be a reward for Jon Snow...

If these shippers had actually read the Jon and Sansa POV chapters in the books they would realize just how incompatible these two characters are. Reading fanfiction and made up headcanons disguised as 'meta' does not equate to the actual story and characters of the books.

Jon Snow would consider it a punishment to marry Sansa and vice versa. A Jon/Sansa marriage would basically be another Stannis/Selyse marriage.

Sansa was matchmaking Mya Stone with a much older, low born, 'not handsome' (in Sansa's opinion) freerider like Lothor Brune because, as a bastard, that's all Mya qualifies for in Sansa's eyes. As of the most recent book, Sansa would be shocked and disgusted if anyone tries to marry her off to a bastard. Over 5 books she hasn't shown the slightest bit of class consciousness. She would never mingle with Jon's friends at the Wall - Crows and Freefolk included - the way someone like Arya or Dany would.

Jon Snow in turn would treat her opinions with the same disdain he showed Selyse's ideas of decorum and his deputies' bigotry. He already has no patience for and scoffs at the songs and stories about valiant knights rescuing damsels in distress.

And by the way, do Jonsa shippers understand that Sansa is a distant last when it comes to Jon's affection and love for the Starks in the books?

After calling Arya his heart and his home, breaking his sworn oaths and dying to save her from a forced marriage in the most recent book - one of his last dying thoughts being of Arya - do Jonsa shippers really think that Sansa is going to suddenly and randomly supersede Jon's unconditional love and care for Arya in book 6?

What is it it about Sansa that is supposedly different now and which is going to change Jon's entire character, personality, relationships and motives - consistent over 5 books - to randomly be like - 'Oh I love Sansa now! She's the love of my life! Arya who?'

I am going to therefore assume that Jonsa shippers wanting Jon and Sansa to marry are okay with Arya always being number one in Jon's heart and affections when it comes to the Starks. Because that's how it is in the books and it's so very clear to anyone who has read the books.

[warsofasoiaf]

Hello, I have a question regarding Brienne IV, AFFC:

“He agreed. "Brune's too old to go climbing wallwalks, and his sons and grandsons went off to the wars. No one left in there but wenches, and a snot-nosed babe or three."

It was on her lips to ask her guide which king Lord Brune had espoused, but it made no matter any longer. Brune's sons were gone; some might not be coming back.”

Based off this brief passage, who do you think the Lords of Crackclaw Point likely supported during the War of the Five Kings?

Lothor Brune was knighted for his service during the Blackwater, so probably very tepid support for Joffrey.

Thanks for the question, Anon.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King

[supernovadragoncat]

"I wish the Hound were here." --Sansa Stark

Whenever people say, "Sansa was traumatized/abused/sexually assaulted by Sandor during the night of the Blackwater," I either assume they've never read the books or completely missed these passages from Sansa AFTER the night he apparently TrAuMaTiZeD her.

The time Sansa wished Sandor was with her and second-guessed not leaving KL with him:

I wish the Hound were here. The night of the battle, Sandor Clegane had come to her chambers to take her from the city, but Sansa had refused. Sometimes she lay awake at night, wondering if she’d been wise. She had his stained white cloak hidden in a cedar chest beneath her summer silks. She could not say why she’d kept it. The Hound had turned craven, she heard it said; at the height of the battle, he got so drunk the Imp had to take his men. But Sansa understood. She knew the secret of his burned face. It was only the fire he feared. That night, the wildfire had set the river itself ablaze, and filled the very air with green flame. Even in the castle, Sansa had been afraid. Outside… she could scarcely imagine it. (ASOS. After the night of the Blackwater)

The time she mistakes Lothor Brune, her savior from Marillion, for Sandor:

Sansa heard the soft sound of steel on leather. “Singer,” a rough voice said, “best go, if you want to sing again.” The light was dim, but she saw a faint glimmer of a blade. 

 The singer saw it too. “Find your own wench -” The knife flashed, and he cried out. “You cut me!” 

 “I’ll do worse, if you don’t go.” 

 And quick as that, Marillion was gone. The other remained, looming over Sansa in the darkness. “Lord Petyr said watch out for you.” It was Lothor Brune’s voice, she realized. Not the Hound’s, no, how could it be? Of course it had to be Lothor…  (ASOS. Still after the Blackwater.)

The time she remembers when Sandor saved her from rape:

And Littlefinger was no friend of hers. When Joff had her beaten, the Imp defended her, not Littlefinger. When the mob sought to rape her, the Hound carried her to safety, not Littlefinger. When the Lannisters wed her to Tyrion against her will, Ser Garlan the Gallant gave her comfort, not Littlefinger. Littlefinger never lifted so much as his little finger for her. (AFFC. Even more after the night of the Blackwater)

Was Sandor a gentleman that night? No.

Was he himself traumatized? Yes.

Does that excuse his behavior? No.

You know who has the emotional intelligence to understand the origins of his trauma and empathize with him?

Sansa "I wish the Hound were here" Stark

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

AFFC: Alayne II (Sansa III) [Chapter 41]

My little sweet tea! ❤️

I'm a Sansa fan, and even I find the length of this chapter alarming.

She turned the iron ring and pushed the door open, just a crack. "Sweetrobin?" she called. "May I enter?"

"Have a care, m'lady," warned old Gretchel, wringing her hands. "His lordship threw his chamber pot at the maester."

"Then he has none to throw at me. Isn't there some work you should be doing? And you, Maddy . . . are all the windows closed and shuttered? Have all the furnishings been covered?"

"All of them, m'lady," said Maddy.

"Best make certain of it."

Have you forgotten this is a 13-year-old kid?

Because the author would like you to.

+.+.+

"I heard my Sweetrobin was ailing." After his encounter with the chamber pot the maester had come running to Ser Lothor, and Brune had come to her.

His mother?

+.+.+

"No," he said, "but I'm not going. I want to stay in bed. You could read to me about the Winged Knight."

The Winged Knight was Ser Artys Arryn. Legend said that he had driven the First Men from the Vale and flown to the top of the Giant's Lance on a huge falcon to slay the Griffin King. There were a hundred tales of his adventures.

Dragonrider imagery featuring a dead Griffin King.

+.+.+

Alayne slipped into the darkened bedchamber. "It's only me, Sweetrobin."

Someone sniffled in the darkness. "Are you alone?"

x

"It is too dark in here for reading." The heavy curtains drawn across the windows made the bedchamber black as night. 

x

"Might I let some sun in?" "No. The light hurts my eyes. Come to bed, Alayne." "I shan't open them very wide. Only enough to see my Sweetrobin's face."

He sniffled. "If you must."

x

"I don't love her. She's just the mule girl." Robert sniffled. 

x

"I could do it," Lord Robert said, "but I don't choose to." He swiped at his runny nose with the back of his hand. 

Take note, they're in a dark bedchamber, and Robert keeps sniffling.

Robert Arryn has never sniffled in any Sansa chapter until now.

+.+.+

She sat on the bed and smoothed his long, fine hair. He does have pretty hair.

Sansa's got a kink.

Tenderly she reached out and brushed back his soft blond hair. - Sansa I, AGOT

+.+.+

Before she could summon the servants, however, Sweetrobin threw his skinny arms around her and kissed her. It was a little boy's kiss, and clumsy. Everything Robert Arryn did was clumsy. If I close my eyes I can pretend he is the Knight of Flowers. Ser Loras had given Sansa Stark a red rose once, but he had never kissed her . . . and no Tyrell would ever kiss Alayne Stone. Pretty as she was, she had been born on the wrong side of the blanket.

Sounds like we need another bastard.

For those keeping score, here's the people and things Sansa has been forced to kiss:

Ser Dontos.

Give your Florian a little kiss now. A kiss for luck. - Sansa IV, ACOK

Joffrey's sword.

"Bless my steel with a kiss." He extended the blade down to her. "Go on, kiss it." - Sansa V, ACOK

Sandor Clegane. (In her head. The reality of the situation was far worse.)

He kissed me and threatened to kill me, and made me sing him a song. - Sansa II, ASOS

Tyrion Lannister.

"With this kiss I pledge my love," the dwarf replied hoarsely, "and take you for my lady and wife." He leaned forward, and their lips touched briefly. - Sansa III, ASOS

Littlefinger.

Sansa tried to step back, but he pulled her into his arms and suddenly he was kissing her. - Sansa VII, ASOS

And Robert Arryn.

If you don't think this ongoing nightmare will be set right, I don't know what to tell you.

+.+.+

As the boy's lips touched her own she found herself thinking of another kiss. She could still remember how it felt, when his cruel mouth pressed down on her own. He had come to Sansa in the darkness as green fire filled the sky. He took a song and a kiss, and left me nothing but a bloody cloak.

It made no matter. That day was done, and so was Sansa.

That's not what he came for, but I'll let you cope.

+.+.+

Maddy and Gretchel might listen all they wished, but they would hear nothing. That was just as well. Gretchel could hold her tongue, but Maddy gossiped shamelessly.

x

Robert's squires had turned up as well. Terrance and Gyles could always sniff out trouble.

Lady Alayne knows her staff well.

+.+.+

"Lord Robert is feeling stronger," Alayne told the serving women. "Fetch hot water for his bath, but see you don't scald him. And do not pull on his hair when you brush out the tangles, he hates that." One of the squires sniggered, until she said, "Terrance, lay out his lordship's riding clothes and his warmest cloak. Gyles, you may clean up that broken chamber pot."

Yes, Your Grace.

+.+.+

"His fingers trembled a little bit when I held his hand, that's all. He says you put something vile in his milk."

"Vile?" Colemon blinked at her, and the apple in his throat moved up and down. "I merely . . . is he bleeding from the nose?"

"No."

"Good. That is good."

[...]

Alayne understood all that well enough, but it meant that the burden of getting Sweetrobin safely down the mountain fell on her. "Give his lordship a cup of sweetmilk," she told the maester. "That will stop him from shaking on the journey down."

"He had a cup not three days past," Colemon objected.

"And wanted another last night, which you refused him."

"It was too soon. My lady, you do not understand. As I've told the Lord Protector, a pinch of sweetsleep will prevent the shaking, but it does not leave the flesh, and in time . . ."

"Time will not matter if his lordship has a shaking fit and falls off the mountain. If my father were here, I know he would tell you to keep Lord Robert calm at all costs."

"I try, my lady, yet his fits grow ever more violent, and his blood is so thin I dare not leech him any more. Sweetsleep . . . you are certain he was not bleeding from the nose?"

"He was sniffling," Alayne admitted, "but I saw no blood."

My gut tells me that boy was in fact bleeding from the nose, and this maester is a dimwit for not checking on that himself.

It could not be more clear that Sansa has no clue how dangerous sweetsleep is, and this bumbling fool is doing a horrific job at making her understand.

+.+.+

They dare not let the full extent of Robert's frailty and cowardice become too widely known, her father had warned her.

In her mind she's protecting Robin.

+.+.+

Petyr Baelish was clear across the Vale, though, attending Lord Lyonel Corbray at his wedding. A widower of forty-odd years, and childless, Lord Lyonel was to wed the strapping sixteen-year-old daughter of a rich Gulltown merchant. Petyr had brokered the match himself. The bride's dower was said to be staggering; it had to be, since she was of common birth. Corbray's vassals would be there, with the Lords Waxley, Grafton, Lynderly, some petty lords and landed knights . . . and Lord Belmore, who had lately reconciled with her father. The other Lords Declarant were expected to shun the nuptials, so Petyr's presence was essential.

There's the first one. 1/6.

"Redfort and Waynwood are old. One or both of them may die. Gilwood Hunter will be murdered by his brothers. Most likely by young Harlan, who arranged Lord Eon's death. In for a penny, in for a stag, I always say. Belmore is corrupt and can be bought. Templeton I shall befriend. Bronze Yohn Royce will continue to be hostile, I fear, but so long as he stands alone he is not so much a threat." - Alayne I, AFFC

Too bad you pissed off Lyn Cobray in the process.

+.+.+

"Music soothes him," she corrected, "the high harp especially. It's singing he can't abide, since Marillion killed his mother." Alayne had told the lie so many times that she remembered it that way more oft than not; the other seemed no more than a bad dream that sometimes troubled her sleep.

Kind of like lying to yourself about the night you were almost raped and killed.

+.+.+

What would she do when the music began to play? It was a vexing question, to which her heart and head gave different answers. Sansa loved to dance, but Alayne . . .

The dancing girl will always follow her heart.

+.+.+

"Just give him a cup of the sweetmilk before we go, and another at the feast, and there should be no trouble."

"Very well." They paused at the foot of the stairs. "But this must be the last. For half a year, or longer."

For the record, he did have a cup of sweetmilk before they left, and will have more at the feast.

Please, she prayed, don't let him start to twitch and shake. Not here. Not now. Maester Coleman would have made certain that he drank a strong dose of sweetmilk before the feast, but even so. - Alayne I, TWOW

I have to admit, sometimes I question whether I'm denying the obvious when it comes to Robert Arryn.

+.+.+

Old snow cloaked the courtyard, and icicles hung down like crystal spears from the terraces and towers. The Eyrie was built of fine white stone, and winter's mantle made it whiter still. So beautiful, Alayne thought, so impregnable. 

Would you call it an enchantment?

+.+.+

She could not love this place, no matter how she tried. 

Don't think for one second they're going to let this interfere with their Lady of the Vale meta.

+.+.+

No one sang up there, not since Marillion. No one ever laughed too loud. Even the gods were silent. The Eyrie boasted a sept, but no septon; a godswood, but no heart tree. No prayers are answered here, she often thought, though some days she felt so lonely she had to try. Only the wind answered her, sighing endlessly around the seven slim white towers and rattling the Moon Door every time it gusted.

BRAN?!

+.+.+

Her father said there was no shame in being afraid, only in showing your fear. "All men live with fear," he said. Alayne was not certain she believed that. Nothing frightened Petyr Baelish. He only said that to make me brave.

There's nothing wrong with showing your fear.

Way to go, Ned. All you had to do was take a second and have this conversation with her before Baelish could.

+.+.+

"Don't be so certain, m'lady. She's half mule herself, that one. I think she'd leave us all to starve before she'd put those animals at risk." He smiled when he said it. He always smiles when he speaks of Mya Stone. Mya was much younger than Ser Lothor, but when her father had been brokering the marriage between Lord Corbray and his merchant's daughter, he'd told her that young girls were always happiest with older men. "Innocence and experience make for a perfect marriage," he had said.

Holy god, why do people believe Littlefinger actually plans to wed Sansa to Harry? Why.

Petyr Baelish had offered to wed the girl himself, she recalled, but of course that was impossible; he was much too lowborn. - Cersei II, ADWD

hello? HELLO??

+.+.+

Alayne wondered what Mya made of Ser Lothor. With his squashed nose, square jaw, and nap of woolly grey hair, Brune could not be called comely, but he was not ugly either. It is a common face but an honest one. Though he had risen to knighthood, Ser Lothor's birth had been very low. One night he had told her that he was kin to the Brunes of Brownhollow, an old knightly family from Crackclaw Point. "I went to them when my father died," he confessed, "but they shat on me, and said I was no blood of theirs." He would not speak of what happened after that, except to say that he had learned all he knew of arms the hard way. Sober, he was a quiet man, but a strong one. And Petyr says he's loyal. He trusts him as much as he trusts anyone. 

A bit more background on the Brunes and Cracklaw Point.

Lothor has an honest face, is quiet, strong, and loyal. If Sansa's saying it, trust it.

+.+.+

"M'lady," Ser Lothor said, "you'd best know. Mya didn't come up alone. Lady Myranda's with her."

"Oh." Why would she ride all the way up the mountain, just to ride back down again?

I think we downplay how completely insane it is that Myranda travelled all the way up this mountain only so she could ride down with Alayne.

+.+.+

"Soon or late you must meet Myranda Royce," Petyr had warned her. "When you do, be careful. She likes to play the merry fool, but underneath she's shrewder than her father. Guard your tongue around her."

I will, she thought, but I did not know I'd need to start so soon. "Robert will be pleased." He liked Myranda Royce.

Mya and Myranda are like sisters.

Littlefinger is cautious around Myranda.

Sweetrobin likes Myranda.

Everything we learn about Myranda is positive.

+.+.+

There was a scarf as well, and a pair of leather gloves lined with fur to match her riding boots. When she'd donned it all, she felt as fat and furry as a bear cub.

The snowy bear cub will be riding a mule through the harsh elements.

Eat your heart out, pantry.

+.+.+

She took one last look at her room before she left. I was safe here, she thought, but down below . .

Sansa always knows.

+.+.+

"He needs to make some haste. It's getting colder, can't you feel it? We need to get below Snow before the sun goes down."

Do you have any idea how funny this sentence is?

+.+.+

"My lord," said Mya, "will you ride down with me?"

Too brusque, Alayne thought. She should have greeted him with a smile, told him how strong and brave he looks.

You ever notice Sansa's strengths are Jon's weaknesses?

+.+.+

The sky cells on the lower levels made the castle look something like a honeycomb from below. A honeycomb made of ice, Alayne thought, a castle made of snow. 

That's a misdirection.

And later I dreamt that maid again, slaying a savage giant in a castle built of snow. - Arya VIII, AFFC

He doesn't die in the Eyrie. They can't go up the mountain during winter.

+.+.+

She [Myranda Royce] got to her feet and brushed the snow from her skirts. "And you must be the Lord Protector's daughter," she added, as the bucket went rattling back up to the Eyrie. "I had heard that you were beautiful. I see that it is true."

Alayne curtsied. "My lady is kind to say so."

"Kind?" The older girl gave a laugh. "How boring that would be. I aspire to be wicked. You must tell me all your secrets on the ride down. May I call you Alayne?"

What else would you call her?

Sansa using 'my lady' is not a tell, but it will quickly become one.

+.+.+

"If you wish, my lady." But you'll get no secrets from me.

Unreliable narrator Sansa Stark.

You're in way over your head, kid.

+.+.+

"I am 'my lady' at the Gates, but up here on the mountain you may call me Randa. How many years have you, Alayne?"

"Four-and-ten, my lady." She had decided that Alayne Stone should be older than Sansa Stark.

You can remove the girl from high nobility, but you can't remove the high nobility from the girl.

She had decided that Alayne Stone should be older than Sansa Stark.

aka the author is doing everything he can.

+.+.+

"Randa. It seems a hundred years since I was four-and-ten. How innocent I was. Are you still innocent, Alayne?"

She blushed. "You should not . . . yes, of course."

It's not every day you see a bastard correct a highborn girl.

+.+.+

Up here where the slope was steepest, the steps wound back and forth rather than plunging straight down. Sansa Stark went up the mountain, but Alayne Stone is coming down. It was a strange thought.

No real comment, but how could I leave it out?

+.+.+

I could close my eyes. The mule knows the way, he has no need of me. But that seemed more something Sansa would have done, that frightened girl. Alayne was an older woman, and bastard brave.

Sansa associates bastards with bravery.

When you're old enough, I will make you a match with a high lord who's worthy of you, someone brave and gentle and strong. - Sansa III, AGOT

We're 33% of the way there!

+.+.+

"We have had a letter from your father," she said, as casually as if they were sitting with their septa, doing needlework. "He is on his way home, he says, and hopes to see his darling daughter soon. He writes that Lyonel Corbray seems well pleased with his bride, and even more so with her dowry. I do hope Lord Lyonel remembers which one he needs to bed. Lady Waynwood turned up with the Knight of Ninestars for the wedding feast, Lord Petyr says, to everyone's astonishment."

"Anya Waynwood? Truly?" The Lords Declarant were down from six to three, it would seem. The day he'd departed the mountain, Petyr Baelish had been confident of winning Symond Templeton to his side, but not so Lady Waynwood.

She said it before I could. 3/6.

"Redfort and Waynwood are old. One or both of them may die. Gilwood Hunter will be murdered by his brothers. Most likely by young Harlan, who arranged Lord Eon's death. In for a penny, in for a stag, I always say. Belmore is corrupt and can be bought. Templeton I shall befriend. Bronze Yohn Royce will continue to be hostile, I fear, but so long as he stands alone he is not so much a threat." - Alayne I, AFFC

Too bad you pissed off Lyn Cobray in the process.

+.+.+

"Not from your father, no, but we've had other birds. The war goes on, everywhere but here. Riverrun has yielded, but Dragonstone and Storm's End still hold for Lord Stannis."

"Lady Lysa was so wise, to keep us out of it."

Myranda gave her a shrewd little smile. "Yes, she was the very soul of wisdom, that good lady."

Timeline check. Sansa's slightly ahead of Jaime.

+.+.+

There's a new High Septon, did you know? Oh, and the Night's Watch has a boy commander, some bastard son of Eddard Stark's."

"Jon Snow?" she blurted out, surprised.

Alayne, did you know you spent your entire childhood with the Faith, studying to become a septa? And did you know you have no idea who Eddard Stark's bastard is?

+.+.+

She had not thought of Jon in ages. He was only her half brother, but still . . . with Robb and Bran and Rickon dead, Jon Snow was the only brother that remained to her. I am a bastard too now, just like him. Oh, it would be so sweet, to see him once again. 

+.+.+

But of course that could never be. Alayne Stone had no brothers, baseborn or otherwise.

I believe you, author.

+.+.+

"Our cousin Bronze Yohn had himself a mêlée at Runestone," Myranda Royce went on, oblivious, "a small one, just for squires. It was meant for Harry the Heir to win the honors, and so he did."

"Harry the Heir?"

"Lady Waynwood's ward. Harrold Hardyng. I suppose we must call him Ser Harry now. Bronze Yohn knighted him."

Bronze Yohn was scheming.

+.+.+

"Oh, yes. He died on top of me. In me, if truth be told. You do know what goes on in a marriage bed, I hope?"

She thought of Tyrion, and of the Hound and how he'd kissed her, and gave a nod. "That must have been dreadful, my lady. Him dying. There, I mean, whilst . . . whilst he was . . ."

". . . fucking me?"

Lol, I love Myranda. She better not disappoint me.

+.+.+

"As you say, my lady." Alayne remembered Petyr's warning.

"Randa. Come now, you can say it. Ran. Da."

You're doing amazing, sweetie.

+.+.+

"Much better. I fear I must apologize to you. You will think me a dreadful slut, I know, but I bedded that pretty boy Marillion. I did not know he was a monster. He sang beautifully, and could do the sweetest things with his fingers. I would never have taken him to bed if I had known he was going to push Lady Lysa through the Moon Door. I do not bed monsters, as a rule." 

That right there might be a problem. When did that happen?

Remember who accompanied Catelyn Stark to the Vale? Remember who met Littlefinger's daughter when she still had red hair?

Stumpy remembers.

+.+.+

She studied Alayne's face and chest. "You are prettier than me, but my breasts are larger. The maesters say large breasts produce no more milk than small ones, but I do not believe it. Have you ever known a wet nurse with small teats? Yours are ample for a girl your age, but as they are bastard breasts, I shan't concern myself with them." 

Here's another reminder that Sansa is 13 and the young woman eyeing her up and down like a rival is 20.

+.+.+

Mychel Redfort was the one. He used to be Lyn Corbray's squire. A real squire, not like that loutish lad Ser Lyn's got squiring for him now. He only took that one on for coin, they say. 

We're still not sure who this loutish squire is.

Alayne's giggle drew Corbray's attention. He handed his shield to his loutish squire, removed his helm and quilted coif. - Alayne I, TWOW

+.+.+

"Do you think Ser Lothor likes her as she is, in mail and leather?" she asked the older girl, who seemed so worldly-wise. "Or does he dream of her draped in silks and velvets?"

"He's a man. He dreams of her naked."

Lol.

+.+.+

"Does your father plan to wed again?"

"My father?" Alayne had never considered that. Somehow the notion made her squirm. 

Why, because you have a sixth sense and deep down you know he plans to wed you?

+.+.+

He needs a pretty young wife to wash away his grief. I imagine he could have his pick of half the noble maidens in the Vale. Who could be a better husband than our own bold Lord Protector? 

Hold this.

+.+.+

Though I do wish he had a better name than Littlefinger. How little is it, do you know?"

"His finger?" She blushed again. "I don't . . . I never . . ."

Totally normal thing you might ask his daughter.

+.+.+

"It's best to lead the mules across," Mya said. "If it please my lord, I'll take mine over first, then come back for yours." Lord Robert did not answer. He was staring at the narrow saddle with his reddened eyes. "I shan't be long, my lord," Mya promised, but Alayne doubted that the boy could even hear her.

When the bastard girl led her mule out from beneath the shelter of the spire, the wind caught her in its teeth. Her cloak lifted, twisting and flapping in the air. Mya staggered, and for half a heartbeat it seemed as if she would be blown over the precipice, but somehow she regained her balance and went on.

Alayne took Robert's gloved hand in her own to stop his shaking. "Sweetrobin," she said, "I'm scared. Hold my hand, and help me get across. I know you're not afraid."

He looked at her, his pupils small dark pinpricks in eyes as big and white as eggs. "I'm not?"

"Not you. You're my winged knight, Ser Sweetrobin."

"The Winged Knight could fly," Robert whispered.

"Higher than the mountains." She gave his hand a squeeze.

Lady Myranda had joined them by the spire. "He could," she echoed, when she saw what was happening.

"Ser Sweetrobin," Lord Robert said, and Alayne knew that she dare not wait for Mya to return. She helped the boy dismount, and hand in hand they walked out onto the bare stone saddle, their cloaks snapping and flapping behind them. All around was empty air and sky, the ground falling away sharply to either side. 

[...]

And then they were on the other side, and Mya Stone was laughing and lifting Robert for a hug.

Look at our girl! Catelyn is made of steel, and this nearly broke her.

"Lady Stark," Mya called across the gulf. The girl sounded a thousand leagues away. "Are you well?"

Catelyn Tully Stark swallowed what remained of her pride. "I … I cannot do this, child," she called out. - Catelyn VI, AGOT

Sorry, I kind of have to point out Sansa has natural maternal instincts, and the author keeps highlighting that through her interactions with Robert.

+.+.+

There was ice underfoot, and broken stones just waiting to turn an ankle, and the wind was howling fiercely. It sounds like a wolf, thought Sansa. A ghost wolf, big as mountains.

+.+.+

"So you're brave as well as beautiful," Myranda said to her.

"No."

Yes.

+.+.+

"I remember a man throwing me in the air when I was very little. He stands as tall as the sky, and he throws me up so high it feels as though I'm flying. We're both laughing, laughing so much that I can hardly catch a breath, and finally I laugh so hard I wet myself, but that only makes him laugh the louder. I was never afraid when he was throwing me. I knew that he would always be there to catch me." She pushed her hair back. "Then one day he wasn't. Men come and go. They lie, or die, or leave you. A mountain is not a man, though, and a stone is a mountain's daughter. I trust my father, and I trust my mules. I won't fall." She put her hand on a jagged spur of rock, and got to her feet. "Best finish. We have a long way yet to go, and I can smell a storm."

He'll come back, Sansa.

There was nothing below but yawning blackness, nothing above but moon and stars. "The mountain is your mother," Stonesnake had told him during an easier climb a few days past. "Cling to her, press your face up against her teats, and she won't drop you." - Jon VI, ACOK

+.+.+

"We have apartments prepared for all of you," she told Alayne, "but if you like you may share my bed tonight. It's large enough for four."

"I should be honored, my lady."

"Randa.

Jesus, she's more formal than the queen during a court session.

+.+.+

Count yourself fortunate that I'm so tired. All I want to do is curl up and go to sleep. Usually when ladies share my bed they have to pay a pillow tax and tell me all about the wicked things they've done."

"What if they haven't done any wicked things?"

"Why, then they must confess all the wicked things they want to do. Not you, of course. I can see how virtuous you are just by looking at those rosy cheeks and big blue eyes of yours."

Any talk of how innocent and virtuous Sansa is will always elicit a giggle from me.

+.+.+

They all rose when she entered, and Petyr smiled warmly. "Alayne. Come, give your father a kiss."

She hugged him dutifully and kissed him on the cheek. 

I will drill through your urethra.

+.+.+

"You are never an intrusion, sweetling. I was just now telling these good knights what a dutiful daughter I had."

"Dutiful and beautiful," said an elegant young knight whose thick blond mane cascaded down well past his shoulders.

I smashed my head against the cement, and figured out this is actually Sandor Clegane.

+.+.+

"You left out that part, m'lord." "I would do the same if she were my daughter," said the last knight, a short, wiry man with a wry smile, pointed nose, and bristly orange hair. "Particularly around louts like us."

Alayne laughed. "Are you louts?" she said, teasing. "Why, I took the three of you for gallant knights."

"Knights they are," said Petyr. "Their gallantry has yet to be demonstrated, but we may hope. Allow me to present Ser Byron, Ser Morgarth, and Ser Shadrich. Sers, the Lady Alayne, my natural and very clever daughter . . . with whom I must needs confer, if you will be so good as to excuse us."

Uh oh!

For those keeping track, the following people know Alayne is Sansa:

Petyr Baelish

Oswell Kettleblack

Lothor Brune

Ser Shadrich the Mad Mouse

Myranda Royce (probably)

Yohn Royce (undetermined)

That's too many.

Personally, I don't think you introduce Ser Shadrich, and put him in the Vale, if you don't intend to use him in the story. So, yeah.

This is also a nice reminder that Littlefinger is capable of making big mistakes.

+.+.+

"I did not expect you back so soon," she said. "I am glad you've come."

"I would never have known it from the kiss you gave me." He pulled her closer, caught her face between his hands, and kissed her on the lips for a long time. "Now that's the sort of kiss that says welcome home. See that you do better next time."

I will peel your foreskin.

+.+.+

"You would not believe half of what is happening in King's Landing, sweetling. Cersei stumbles from one idiocy to the next, helped along by her council of the deaf, the dim, and the blind. I always anticipated that she would beggar the realm and destroy herself, but I never expected she would do it quite so fast. It is quite vexing. I had hoped to have four or five quiet years to plant some seeds and allow some fruits to ripen, but now . . . it is a good thing that I thrive on chaos. 

Is it still called breaking the fourth wall when it's a book?

+.+.+

The Merling King's returned to Gulltown, and old Oswell had some tales to tell."

[...]

What little peace and order the five kings left us will not long survive the three queens, I fear.

"Three queens?" She did not understand.

Nor did Petyr choose to explain. 

The peace will not survive the three queens. You shouldn't want this to be about Sansa.

It's Cersei, Margaery, and Daenerys. The Merling King returned from Braavos, he knows about Daenerys.

+.+.+

"I have brought my sweet girl back a gift."

Alayne was as pleased as she was surprised. "Is it a gown?" She had heard there were fine seamstresses in Gulltown, and she was so tired of dressing drably.

Gulltown. Gulltown. Gulltown.

+.+.+

Petyr Baelish took her by the hand and drew her down onto his lap. "I have made a marriage contract for you."

I will decorate my Christmas tree with your intestines.

+.+.+

"I am married," she whispered. "You know."

Petyr put a finger to her lips to silence her. 

I will make you nurse a badger.

+.+.+

"Lady Waynwood?" Alayne could hardly believe it. "Why would she marry one of her sons to . . . to a . . ."

". . . bastard? For a start, you are the Lord Protector's bastard, never forget. The Waynwoods are very old and very proud, but not as rich as one might think, as I discovered when I began buying up their debt. Not that Lady Anya would ever sell a son for gold. A ward, however . . . young Harry's only a cousin, and the dower that I offered her ladyship was even larger than the one that Lyonel Corbray just collected. 

I'm confident he's somehow screwing over Anya Waynwood and Lyonel Corbray on these deals.

You know who else doesn't pay debts? Littlefinger.

+.+.+

It had to be, for her to risk Bronze Yohn's wroth. This will put all his plans awry. 

It appears Littlefinger was aware of Bronze Yohn's plans. Can I be told?

+.+.+

"He was just knighted. And he has a bastard daughter by some common girl."

"And another on the way by a different wench. Harry can be a beguiling one, no doubt. Soft sandy hair, deep blue eyes, and dimples when he smiles. And very gallant, I am told."

I know, maybe Littlefinger has a cuckolding fetish, and can't wait to have his favourite play thing mounted by a younger, better looking guy? Most men are like that, right?

I mean sure, he was super territorial with Catelyn, and almost died fighting her betrothed, but he could change? Right?

+.+.+

He teased her with a smile. "Bastard-born or no, sweetling, when this match is announced you will be the envy of every highborn maiden in the Vale, and a few from the riverlands and the Reach as well."

I would love to know why any maiden from the riverlands or the Reach would give a shit about Harrold Hardyng, an upjumped squire who's never left the Vale.

You get any petitions for marriage when you were in the Reach, Baelish?

He needs a pretty young wife to wash away his grief. I imagine he could have his pick of half the noble maidens in the Vale. Who could be a better husband than our own bold Lord Protector? 

+.+.+

Petyr took her hand in his own and brushed his finger lightly down the inside of her palm.

I will harvest your organs.

+.+.+

"Won't they come before Harry? I don't understand."

"You will. Listen." Petyr took her hand in his own and brushed his finger lightly down the inside of her palm. 

"Lord Jasper Arryn, begin with him. Jon Arryn's father. He begot three children, two sons and a daughter. Jon was the eldest, so the Eyrie and the lordship passed to him. His sister Alys wed Ser Elys Waynwood, uncle to the present Lady Waynwood." He made a wry face. "Elys and Alys, isn't that precious? Lord Jasper's younger son, Ser Ronnel Arryn, wed a Belmore girl, but only rang her once or twice before dying of a bad belly. Their son Elbert was being born in one bed even as poor Ronnel was dying in another down the hall. Are you paying close attention, sweetling?"

"Yes. There was Jon and Alys and Ronnel, but Ronnel died."

"Good. Now, Jon Arryn married thrice, but his first two wives gave him no children, so for long years his nephew Elbert was his heir. Meantime, Elys was plowing Alys quite dutifully, and she was whelping once a year. She gave him nine children, eight girls and one precious little boy, another Jasper, after which she died exhausted. Boy Jasper, inconsiderate of the heroic efforts that had gone into begetting him, got himself kicked in the head by a horse when he was three years old. A pox took two of his sisters soon after, leaving six. The eldest married Ser Denys Arryn, a distant cousin to the Lords of the Eyrie. There are several branches of House Arryn scattered across the Vale, all as proud as they are penurious, save for the Gulltown Arryns, who had the rare good sense to marry merchants. They're rich, but less than couth, so no one talks about them. Ser Denys hailed from one of the poor, proud branches . . . but he was also a renowned jouster, handsome and gallant and brimming with courtesy. And he had that magic Arryn name, which made him ideal for the eldest Waynwood girl. Their children would be Arryns, and the next heirs to the Vale should any ill befall Elbert. Well, as it happened, Mad King Aerys befell Elbert. You know that story?"

She did. "The Mad King murdered him."

"He did indeed. And soon after, Ser Denys left his pregnant Waynwood wife to ride to war. He died during the Battle of the Bells, of an excess of gallantry and an axe. When they told his lady of his death she perished of grief, and her newborn son soon followed. No matter. Jon Arryn had gotten himself a young wife during the war, one he had reason to believe fertile. He was very hopeful, I'm sure, but you and I know that all he ever got from Lysa were stillbirths, miscarriages, and poor Sweetrobin.

"Which brings us back to the five remaining daughters of Elys and Alys. The eldest had been left terribly scarred by the same pox that killed her sisters, so she became a septa. Another was seduced by a sellsword. Ser Elys cast her out, and she joined the silent sisters after her bastard died in infancy. The third wed the Lord of the Paps, but proved barren. The fourth was on her way to the riverlands to marry some Bracken when Burned Men carried her off. That left the youngest, who wed a landed knight sworn to the Waynwoods, gave him a son that she named Harrold, and perished."

+.+.+

He turned her hand over and lightly kissed her wrist.

I will invert your ribcage.

+.+.+

"So tell me, sweetling—why is Harry the Heir?"

Her eyes widened. "He is not Lady Waynwood's heir. He's Robert's heir. If Robert were to die . . ."

SHE'S A CHILD PRODIGY.

+.+.+

Petyr arched an eyebrow. "When Robert dies. Our poor brave Sweetrobin is such a sickly boy, it is only a matter of time. When Robert dies, Harry the Heir becomes Lord Harrold, Defender of the Vale and Lord of the Eyrie. Jon Arryn's bannermen will never love me, nor our silly, shaking Robert, but they will love their Young Falcon . . .

I'm sure your cheque book can fix that.

Do you think Littlefinger wants to compete with a young man who is loved by the high lords and common folk? I don't.

+.+.+

Jon Arryn's bannermen will never love me, nor our silly, shaking Robert, but they will love their Young Falcon . . . and when they come together for his wedding, and you come out with your long auburn hair, clad in a maiden's cloak of white and grey with a direwolf emblazoned on the back . . . why, every knight in the Vale will pledge his sword to win you back your birthright. So those are your gifts from me, my sweet Sansa . . . Harry, the Eyrie, and Winterfell. That's worth another kiss now, don't you think?"

This is going to sound crazy, but you should question everything Littlefinger says.

Anyway, this feels familiar, doesn't it?

"Does this mean you will not wed the girl? I warn you, she is part of the price you must pay, if you want your father's name and your father's castle. This match is necessary, to help assure the loyalty of our new subjects. Are you refusing me, Jon Snow?" - Jon XI, ASOS

+.+.+

That's worth another kiss now, don't you think?

I will power wash your colon.

Final thoughts:

There's only one more Sansa chapter.

-> return to menu <-

[fandomficsnstuff]

Wolves And Hounds-7

(Warnings: Slight angst but also some fluff:3)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Karliah flinched as the Hound’s shield met with his opponent’s mace, the mace quickly being thrown from the man’s hand and with a bash of the Hound’s shield, then man fell over the edge and into the small courtyard below, Karliah watching Sansa flinch a little at the sudden sound of metal and flesh crashing against stone below. “Don’t let him see you flinch” Karliah whispered soothingly while the new ‘king’ moved over the edge to see the corpse better as he praised his ‘dog’.

“Did you like that?” he asked Sansa and Karliah had to look ahead to not glare at him, her eyes finding Sandor’s and she felt a hint of comfort. “It was well struck, Your Grace.”

“I already said it was well struck.”

“Yes, Your Grace…”

“What I think my niece meant to say is that it was a good demonstration of what a man is capable of in a fight” Karliah smoothly swooped in, Sansa smiling weakly at Joffrey “it was, Your Grace. Forgive me, I’m not as attuned with battle as you are” she stated softly and it seemed to please the boy king somewhat as he smirked and looked ahead again. “Who’s next?”

“Lothor Brune, free rider in the service of Lord Baelish!” a few people clapped as the man stepped forward.

“Ser Dontos of the Red House of Hollard!” there was a long silence, followed by the man repeating the announcement, everyone expecting the man to step forward from the side, as gestured, but instead he walked down the steps nearby, dropping his helmet, chasing after it as he spewed out apology after apology, trying to put on his helmet, at first putting it on the wrong way before putting it on the right way. “Are you drunk?”

“No. No, Your Grace. I-I had two cups of wine.”

“Two cups? That’s not much at all. Please, have another cup” Joffrey gestured to the wine ready to be poured for himself and those sitting with him under the canopy, Karliah downing her goblet of wine in preparation for whatever torment the boy king had in mind for the poor guy, her eyes moving to the Hound as he arrived back by the other Kingsgarde and he glanced at her before looking ahead, making Karliah look back at Sansa as the poor man from before was dragged off, a horn forced down his mouth as a barrel of wine was lifted to pour into the horn, forcing it down the man’s throat. “You can’t!” Sansa exclaimed before Karliah could stop her, Karliah heart racing as Joffrey turned to her “did you just say I ‘can’t’??” he asked with bubbling anger and Karliah’s heart raced “I-I only meant-”

“It’s bad luck to kill a man on his name-day, Your Grace” Karliah jumped in smoothly, Sansa nodding with a smile in agreement as Joffrey scoffed “what kind of peasant superstition-”

“It’s true, Your Grace. What a man sows on his name-day, he reaps all year” Sandor jumped in casually and after a second or two, Joffrey flicked his hand dismissively, his garde letting the man go and he fell over, vomiting up the wine, Karliah’s heart bleeding for him. But a bleeding heart did nothing for the man, nor her niece. What would it do? Save him from Joffrey’s wrath? Stand before him as a shield? No. Her bleeding heart could do neither, and so she stayed silent, forcing a neutral expression on her face, a hidden pride bubbling in her chest as Sansa managed to trick Joffrey into making the poor man a fool, instead of killing him on the morrow, Joffrey proudly announcing the man’s new status as the man thanked both the boy king and Sansa before being dragged away. Sansa looked over her shoulder at her aunt, only to find Karliah smirking at her, giving her a subtle nod of her head. Karliah was proud of her.

She was finally playing the game. The game she had been thrust into when her father’s head was taken, when she had been forced to stare upon it, her lip bleeding from Ser Meryn’s iron gauntlet. The boy king didn’t even have the guts to lift the hand himself.

‘The man who passes the sentence must swing the sword.’ Her brother used to say. Men and their swords. The thought almost made her scoff. Why did men have to make everything about swords?

“Beloved nephew!!”

Karliah almost smiled at the sound of that voice. Finally, a solace to the hell that was the king’s presence. Tyrion was a good man, the best Lannister she had ever met, in fact. He was kind, clever and he understood human nature. He got it. He understood the game.

“We looked for you on the battlefield. You were nowhere to be found.”

“I’ve been here, ruling the Kingdoms…” Joffrey defended as Tyrion walked over “and what a fine job you’ve done” Tyrion praised, yet there was a hint of sarcasm, of slight mockery, but what was the king to do about that? Behead his uncle? Karliah would love to see him try. As Tyrion turned to look at his niece, he gasped softly, his cup of wine almost forgotten in his hand “look at you!” he leaned closer and gently kissed her cheek “more beautiful than ever!” he praised before turning to his youngest nephew “and you! You’re going to be bigger than the Hound! But much better looking” Tyrion joked as he took a sip of his wine, chuckling lightly before gesturing to Sandor “this one doesn’t like me” he informed a man he had arrived with, the man glancing at Sandor for barely a second “can’t imagine why” he stated and there was a hint of a joking tone to his words, making Karliah smirk a little. “We heard you were dead” Joffrey spoke, Mycella speaking up directly after “I’m glad you’re not dead” she admitted sweetly, Tyrion taking another sip of his wine “me too, dear. Death is so boring. Especially now with so much excitement in the world” he stated as he walked a little, looking around before his gaze fell on Karliah and Sansa, his joyful demeanour gone. “My Lady, My Lady,” he greeted each of them with a soft bow of his head “I’m sorry for your loss, both of you” he stated softly but before either of them could speak up, Joffrey beat them to it. “Their loss? Ned Stark was a confessed traitor!”

“And their father and brother respectively. Surely having recently lost your own beloved father, you can sympathise” Tyrion interjected quickly, Joffrey looking at Sansa and Karliah, Sansa looking at Joffrey before looking back at Tyrion. “My father was a traitor. My mother and brother are traitors, too. I’m loyal to my beloved Joffrey” Sansa stated, a mantra she’d had to repeat over and over again “of course you are” Tyrion muttered with sympathy and Karliah dreaded the day Sansa would bleed, being forced to marry the king. Joffrey next looked at Karliah, who clenched her jaw, biting back her anger as she turned to look at Tyrion “it’s true. My brother confessed his sins and treason. My sister-in-law is a traitor, my nephew is a traitor as well” she spoke the words with thinly veiled disgust, the words like poison on her tongue and she felt as though she was choking, Tyrion nodding ever so slightly “of course, My Lady” he bowed his head ever so slightly, both of them acknowledging the bitter taste the words left on her tongue and he downed his goblet “well, enjoy your name-day, Your Grace. I wish I could stay and celebrate, but there is work to be done” he stated as he put down the goblet, walking past the boy king who stood up and looked at him as he walked away “what work? Why are you here?” he called out, his questions going unanswered, a variety of… different… men walking after Tyrion, as well as the one who seemed to be more like Tyrion, sarcastic, joking, a dagger strapped to his back.

-----------------------------------------------------------

“Whatever you do, bite your tongue… Do you understand? This is how we survive, for now. We bite our tongues until they bleed and until we are alone” Karliah whispered softly as she sat next to Sansa, both of them having just heard the news that she was to supper with the queen and her two youngest children. “Look at me, Sansa” Karliah whispered softly, the young girl looking up at her, as told, and Karliah cupped her cheek gently “you are a Stark. You are a wolf… wolves prey on stags, but only when they know they can win. We cannot win. Not right now. ‘Winter is coming’ and we have to hold out, just a little while longer, do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

“Yes, aunt Karliah” Sansa spoke meekly and Karliah sighed softly, bringing her into her embrace, hugging her tightly, holding her close “when you were just a babe, I remember holding you for the first time… I’d held Robb, of course. Even Jon. But you… I was horrified” Karliah admitted with a smile, Sansa leaning back to frown up at her “I was horrified I’d drop you… a little winter rose, so small and fragile… I kept thinking ‘what if I drop her?’... ‘What if she starts to cry when she sees me?’... but you never did” Karliah added softly, cupping Sansa’s cheeks in both of her hands, making sure the young girl kept her eyes on Karliah “the only way anything can grow in the North is if they have deep roots, buried in the ground, entangled with the dirt and soil… don’t let them pluck you from the ground. You’re not a weed, you’re a Stark of Winterfell” she whispered, Sansa nodding with tears in her eyes “your father was an honourable man… a man doing everything he could for his family… I have to ask, but do you still want to marry Joffrey?”

“I have to-”

“But do you want to?” Karliah asked, Sansa weakly shaking her head and Karliah nodded “then you won’t. I won’t allow it.”

“But the queen-”

“I won’t allow it” Karliah whispered more sternly, gently stroking her niece’s red hair “I will never allow you to marry that monster… I will find a way, one way or another-”

“Please, no, I can’t lose you, I can’t lose you too-”

“You will not lose me… I promise. I swear it on the Old Gods and the new, I swear on my life. But you will not marry that beast” Karliah whispered softly, Sansa nodded and Karliah sighed softly, hugging her again “go on, get ready for supper… I may not be able to be there with you, but I’ll be here, waiting for your return” Karliah whispered, kissing the top of Sansa’s head before letting go of her, watching her leave to get ready to sup with the queen and Karliah was ready to break everything in her chambers in anger.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Karliah looked up as she heard footsteps, leaning back in her chair as the man she’d seen on Joffrey’s name-day entered, in the same armour. It seemed as though King’s Landing hadn’t rubbed off on him yet, but there was still time, of course. “My Lady” he greeted with a bow that felt exaggerated, Karliah raising a brow at him before sitting a little straighter in her seat “Brynn, is it?”

“Bronn.”

“Bronn. Why are you here, if I may ask?”

“Thought I’d introduce myself” he stated casually as he walked over, plopping down in the seat across from her, beginning to pick at the grapes that were ready to be eaten, noting that Karliah’s plate was still empty, not a single crumb left on it, evidence of her fasting. She hadn’t eaten this evening. “You skip breakfast too?” he asked casually and Karliah frowned at him “excuse me?”

“‘s not healthy for a Lady-”

“With all due respect, what is healthy for me is none of your concern.”

“True, but it is to Lord Tyrion. He’s worried ‘bout you” he stated casually as he began to eat more of the food on the table, pouring himself a goblet of wine as Karliah stared at him in disbelief. “Worried? Well, you can tell Lord Tyrion that my health is also none of his concern” she stated sharply, Bronn just raising an eyebrow at her before shrugging, standing up to lean over, snatching her plate to use as his own, Karliah’s mouth open in shock. “What are you doing?!”

“What? You weren’t using it” Bronn rationalised and Karliah continued to stare at him in utter shock and disbelief, making him smirk “see somethin’ you like?” he asked cheekily and Karliah’s face grew hot with anger and outrage “I suggest you leave my chambers before I have you forcefully removed” she warned quietly, Bronn studying her before putting down the food on his plate “alright, listen, Lord Tyrion told me to make sure you ate somethin’-”

“So you eat my food instead?”

“So just-... eat somethin’, alright? For both our sakes” he stated with an almost pleading look on his face, Karliah still staring at him in shock before gathering herself “if I eat, will you leave?”

“Maybe” he stated with a smirk and her cheeks burned as she demonstratively grabbed a single grape and ate it, raising a brow at him and he smirked, leaning back in the chair, putting his feet up on the table but as soon as he’d put them up, they were shoved down, a dagger thrust into the table next to his hand as she stood over him. Bronn looked up at her with a hint of shock on his face, as though he truly hadn’t expected her to do that, or that she’d even have a weapon on her. “Leave, or I will cut off your balls and force them down your throat, I’m not in the mood for Lannister games” she warned with anger, Bronn studying her before smirking, slowly standing up which forced her to straighten herself up instead of leaning down, her hand still clutching the dagger firmly as he towered over her. He wasn’t as tall as Sandor, but he was taller than her, her heart racing with confusion at why she even drew that comparison to begin with, she hated him, she hated the Hound. Bronn looked down and placed his hand over hers, making her jerk her hand away only to realise it was intentional so she’d let go of the dagger, and he pulled it out of the table, smirking at it before looking back down at her “a shame to put a hole in such a nice table” he stated calmly and Karliah scoffed “my niece did worse” she mumbled, she hadn’t intended to amuse him, to continue any kind of conversation, and yet she longed for it. She longed for any kind of familiarity, any kind of connection, even if it was a slightly hostile one. “Really? What she’d do? Bump against it while practising her dance?” he joked and Karliah actually laughed “Arya?? Dance?!” she asked through her laughter, unable to stop even as she tried, covering her mouth with her hand as she turned away to try and stop laughing, a brief snort leaving her before she could prevent it. She remembers her mother scolding her as a child, saying it wasn’t attractive for a young girl to snort when she laughed. Though Lyanna had argued that if a man could get her to laugh like that then it wouldn’t matter, so long as Karliah was smiling.

“Didn’t know a Lady could have such a cute laugh” he flirted and she scoffed, finally coming down from her fit, still chuckling ever so slightly “be quiet, it’s not cute” Karliah managed to get out through her giggles, a big grin on her lips as she looked down, her smile slowly fading when she remembered Lyanna. She’d sometimes make fun of her for her laugh, but the second someone else said something, she stood up for her, ready to fight whoever had made Karliah sad in any way, only to make fun of her laugh right after. “C’mon, eat somethin’” Bronn urged and she looked up at him, studying him with a frown before sighing, turning towards the table, picking up a vine of grapes, picking at them slowly, looking up at him as though to ask ‘satisfied?’ and he smirked, taking one of the grapes and throwing it up, catching it with his mouth, making her smirk a little. She looked around, making sure they were alone before doing the same, catching it just like he did and Bronn smirked “you’re not like all the other Lords and Ladies, are you?”

“Well, most of the Lords in this city haven’t ever been to war” she muttered, her cheeks turning red immediately after “not that I have either, war is no place for a woman-”

“I’d love to see you in a fight” he stated plainly and Karliah stared at him in shock. “That’s a… strange sentiment to have. I’ve never met a Lord who approved of a woman fighting.”

“‘m not a Lord” he stated proudly and she smirked, nodding ever so slightly “well, then I will have no problem throwing you on your arse out of my chambers right now, though I suppose getting beaten by a woman would be humiliating for you, it usually is to you men” she stated casually and Bronn smirked at her, about to step closer to her, as though he was going to kiss her, when he felt something sharp against his crotch, looking down to find another knife, right at his balls and she smirked up at him “go” she ordered in a soft voice and Bronn smirked, stepping back, gently taking her hand and kissing the back of it before leaving, the knife he’d pulled out of the table laid upon the wood, ready to be picked up and Karliah watched him leave with a scoff, sitting back down and rolled up her sleeve, subtly hiding the smaller knife she’d held against his crotch before putting the other dagger back where it had been hidden in a pocket in her dress.

[aegor-bamfsteel]

In an AU where Salladhor Saan was formally ennobled into the Westerosi aristocracy, what do you think Salladhor would pick for House Saan’s sigil and what style of feudal lord would he be, in your opinion? Also, with all of the wealth Salladhor secured for himself over his long career as a pirate, wouldn’t he be able to build himself a pretty swanky (presumably coastal) castle?

Some Essosi characters use the symbol of their original country (the Titan head of Braavos for Ser Baelish), and self-made characters use the source of their wealth/reason for ennobling (the Spicers with pepperpots on saffron, Davos with the ship and onions, even Lothor Brune with the apple cores). Maybe Salla would take a striped galley with a Weeping Lady of Lys as a sigil, reference to his fleet, city of origin, and fondness for coin and women.

Theoretically Salla is rich enough he’d be able to build himself a castle, but I don’t think he’d have the patience to build one from the ground up, let alone one with great defenses. Since he’s being formally ennobled under presumably Stannis, that means there’s probably coastal castles owned by Lannister loyalists he may be interested in (he already did express interest in Celtigar’s castle), if Davos doesn’t point out what a terrible idea deposing a lord to replace him with a Lysene pirate is.

[alaynasansa]

Though he had risen to knighthood, Ser Lothor's birth had been very low. One night he had told her that he was kin to the Brunes of Brownhollow, an old knightly family from Cracklaw Point. “I went to them when my father died,” he confessed, “but they shat on me, and said I was no blood of theirs”

“As you wish, ser. And now if you will excuse me, Littlefinger's bastard must find her lord father and let him know that you have come, so we can begin the tourney on the morrow.” And may your horse stumble, Harry the Heir, so you fall on your stupid head in your first tilt. She showed the Waynwoods a stone face as they blurted out awkward apologies for their companion. When they were done she turned and fled.

Near the keep, she ran headlong into Ser Lothor Brune and almost knocked him off his feet

Alayne was so grateful that she hugged him

Sansa Month 2023 : day twenty - (potential) friends/political allies

[calamity-bean]

The Tourney of the Hand is truly such a treasure trove of interesting characterization work — the way Sansa's POV presents it versus the way Ned's POV presents it, the hints it gives us about the plots and biases and personalities of relatively newly introduced non-POV characters like Renly and Petyr and Loras, Sandor's backstory, the DRAMA of the Loras v. Gregor v. Sandor showdown, the HILARITY of Jaime getting stuck in a dented helmet, the PAGEANTRY of it all!!! All the ridiculously ornate helms and armor! Renly giving Sandor his golden antler, and Sandor tossing it! First sightings of later-to-be-significant characters like Beric Dondarrion and Lothor Brune!

I remember loving the Tourney chapters even on my first read because there is just SOOOO much going on: you're still pretty new to this world and these characters, and now you're awash in images of heraldry and pageantry, it feels like a fairy tale, like high fantasy, epic and chivalric. And then suddenly, just like Sansa when the feast ends, when her night of being fed sweet treats by her handsome prince ends abruptly and suddenly the party is over and everything's kind of dark and scary and strange — suddenly something will happen to remind you that there is conspiracy afoot, that danger and death and mundane ugliness lurk everywhere underneath the romantic, chivalric facade. And on rereads, after you've finished the series, it's even better because you can appreciate the deeper levels of foreshadowing and characterization revealed by the tournament setting, which is, after all, a highly artificial setting, a dramatized and (relatively) sanitized play-act that mirrors and yet distorts the reality of what the world of ASoIaF is actually like.

Truly it's one of my favorite parts not only of AGoT but of the series as a whole. I can come back to those chapters over and over again.

[aurora-light-blog]

Summer Fanfiction Schedule

May 5: “Tales of the Jedi Temple” stories of when Anakin was a young padawan.

June 2: “Favor” Mya Stone and Lothor Brune ASoIaF fanfiction

July 7: “Song of Despair” a Star Wars story about some Nightbrothers and their lives on Dathomir.

August 4: “Scarlet Pearls” the life of Emperor Lo Doq and Empress Bathi Ma Lo ASoIaF fanfic

      All will be posted under the name DarthChocolate at “An Archive of Our Own”

[greenhikingboots]

A few words on House Kettleblack and "News from W.H."

The new outline buzz has me revisiting TWOW speculation. Mostly I want to think and write about the Mad Mouse and the Vale plot. But while I was attempting that, I caught myself writing a long-winded tangent about House Kettleblack. Let me post it here and get it out of the way.

Regarding “News from W.H.” some Jonsa fam friends discussed Oswell Kettleblack here. A reminder if you need it, Oswell, along with Lothor Brune has known Sansa’s true identity all along. They were on the ship, the Merling King, when Sansa and Littlefinger fled King’s Landing after Joffrey’s death. Also worth noting, as I’ll circle back to it in a bit, is that Kettleblack’s sons have infiltrated Cersei’s sellswords thanks to Bronn and Tyrion’s scheming, but none of them are aware of the Kettleblacks’ connections to Littlefinger.

Sherlockiness gave us this canon line from TWOW: “When she had left Petyr Baelish that morning he had been breaking his fast with old Oswell who had arrived last night from Gulltown on a lathered horse.”

And Agentrouka gave us this: I suppose now we know what had Oswell travel with haste. White Harbor news — and Littlefinger had it first, so whatever it is, it won't catch him off-guard. Maybe he'll try to twist the ‘Arya’ wedding news in his favor, that would fit with the timeline better than news of Jon or Rickon, and it would match the choice to insert a childhood memory of Jeyne and Arya into the same chapter.

I’m here to offer more options to consider. Here goes.

Let’s take a look at another canon line. Littlefinger to Sansa in AFFC, meaning prior to the line Sherlockiness brought up from TWOW: “I thought it best that we have a few more swords about us [Shadrich, Byron, and Morgarth]. The times grow ever more interesting, my sweet, and when the times are interesting you can never have too many swords. The Merling King's returned to Gulltown, and old Oswell had some tales to tell.”

Wait. Hang on a second. Did you catch that? It’s not like Sansa’s last AFFC chapter and her TWOW chapter take place a day apart. Time had to pass to dream up and plan for the tournament, for the participants to begin to arrive, for Littlefinger to send for lemons from Dorne for that massive cake, etc. etc.

So what are we to make of this? Maybe Oswell had not yet made it to the Gates of the Moon but somehow got word to Littlefinger that he was on his way… with tales to tell. Or — and I think this option makes better sense — Oswell’s been traveling back and forth between Gulltown and the Gates of the Moon for a few months, bringing news to Littlefinger bit by bit.

Which doesn’t help me solve any puzzles, really. But it’s important to me, Jonsa fam, that we aren’t operating on false assumptions. Along that same vein, maybe we should double check if we really think the news Oswell is bringing Littlefinger and the news GRRM mentions in his outline as coming from White Harbor — the likely catalyst for Sansa resolving to be herself — are one in the same.

So what’s the news from Gulltown?

What about progress on an attempt to get a marriage annulled? As we know, annulments are a thing in Westeros. Though neither the bride nor groom needs to be present, one of them must request the annulment. I think it’s possible Littlfinger may have forged something to make it look like Sansa requested it. Maybe Oswell is involved in those logistics.

(I’ve also read speculation that Littlefinger has ties to Tysha and Tysha and Tyrion’s marriage was never actually annulled — Tywin lied about it. Therefore, even without the consummation issue, Sansa and Tyrion’s marriage was never legitimate. The theory goes that Tysha will ask for an annulment from Tyrion and the process of her coming forward will consequently annul Sansa and Tyrion’s marriage. It’s so many steps removed it seems implausible. I get that. But Littlefinger does talk about Tysha and Tyrion in a Sansa chapter and it kinda makes you go, “Hmmmm why include this here?” I guess what I’m saying is that I’m far from in love with this theory, but if it happens — okay, cool, whatever. I’m mentioning it now mostly in case someone wants to dig into it themselves.)

Or! I think this next part is more likely, though it and annulment stuff could be intertwined as they both require news from King’s Landing. Remember that earlier tidbit about Oswell’s sons infiltrating Cersei’s sellswords? Well, how Cersei’s faring as queen regent — that seems like something that would need multiple updates over the course of a few months, right? And the part from TWOW chapter, the part about the leathered horse — seems plausible, maybe even likely that Oswell hurried from Gulltown to the Gates of the Moon this time because his sons have been imprisoned with Cersei. (If you’re like me and started skipping a lot of POVs in the later books, catch up on the details here: House Kettleblack link)

(Bonus: In the recently revealed outline, one of the Cersei notes says ‘Osmund’ betrays her. And I find the quotes around his name interesting especially because his AWOIAF pages says he’s twice mistakenly called Oswald. Not sure if that’s hinting at something bigger to come or just a nod to the Kettleblacks being shady. Also according to AWOIAF, the brothers are all illiterate. I want to dig into canon and see if there are hints of that being a ruse as it would otherwise seem likely they’re sending information to their father who is sharing it with Littlefinger).

So all that to say, I think we need to consider the option Oswell’s news and the news from Winterfell are separate ideas.

That’s it for the House Kettleblack tangent. Posts still to come about the Mad Mouse and maybe about what the news from White Harbor could be.

[the-king-andthe-lionheart]

You know what?  If you support Sansa Stark becoming Queen in the end, then you should stop harping on about #TeamSmallfolk, because Sansa is not a CHAMPION OF THE SMALLFOLK!!!!!  She isn’t.  And it’s beyond ridiculous to think she is when she didn’t care one fucking lick about Mycah.  And her youth is not an excuse about that, considering how Arya and Bran (2 and 3 years younger than her) actually do care about the Smallfolk.  If she cared, she’d look back on what happened to Mycah and be completely horrified.  Yet, she isn’t.  She isn’t when it happens (in fact she and Jeyne rub Mycah’s death in Arya’s face, blame her for it, and then victim blame Mycah) and she isn’t now.  

Oh sure, Sansa can scrounge up a tiny kernal of compassion for Ser Dontos (who actually isn’t exactly nearly as lowly born as real smallfolk and a knight to boot from a old ruling house even though he was the last of that dismantled house) and Sandor Clegane (who also isn’t very lowborn considering his father, a landed knight, was given land and they have their own house and he ascended to become a Kingsguard) and Lothor Brune (who is also related to a house of landed knights and in fact is a knight and captain of the guards).  And let’s get this out of the way, Sansa isn’t friends with Mya Stone either and has not shown any real compassion to her plight.  All she does is think about how Mya isn’t a maiden, how she used to have a lover that left her, and wondering if she could set Lothar Brune up with her.  Oh, yes, she also disparages how Mya is GNC.  Hmm...I have to say that those three men are not real smallfolk, so they don’t fucking count.  Where exactly is all of Sansa’s compassion for butchers, spinsters, farmers, fishermen, dyers, stableboys, weavers, blacksmiths, innkeeps, bakers, kitchen workers and maids, and sex workers, the lowest of the low, the dirtiest and smelliest of the low, the sickest and most disabled of the low?  She has never shown any compassion to real smallfolk, and has never once seriously thought about their plight.

She doesn’t understand, even after being nearly raped and killed in the bread riots, the full scope of why that happens and never cares to learn.  She never contemplates why the Smallfolk hated her during that time, but loves Margaery when Margaery’s arrival heralded the arrival of food.  And she never once thinks about the lessons she learned in the north about Winter and food scarcity, or food rationing, which is evident by the frivolous and extravagant tourney she has planned in the Vale right as Winter has arrived, with not one thought about the Smallfolk, like Dany and Tyrion do during the feasts they have to take part in due to politics.  She never thinks about and donates the leftovers to the smallfolk, like Dany does.  Sansa may still be young but all of her siblings know what winter means and they know the stories about the older men who would sacrifice themselves for the young to survive on their limited rations.  SANSA DOESN’T CARE!!!!

Oh and if you want to argue about Sansa convincing Joffrey to give a coin to the smallfolk, that wasn’t out of true compassion and care for the smallfolk.  That was her trying to stave Joffrey’s murderous tendencies above all else.

So how could you sit there and claim that you are #TeamSmallfolk, yet you support Sansa becoming fucking Queen?!  Make that make sense, because it doesn’t.  We are going into book 6 and Sansa still doesn’t care about the Smallfolk.  She’s not fucking Good Queen Alysanne born again.  Now if supporting Queen Sansa was something other than supporting the Smallfolk, and wanting the status quo dismantled, then I could understand that stance even though I don’t support anti-feminist tradfem culture and adhering to the broken status quo.  But to say that you are #TeamSmallfolk, and support a more progressive ending for Westeros at the end of the books, then what the fuck are you doing thinking that Sansa as a Queen Regnant would actually mean those things?  Sansa doesn’t care about Smallfolk, she doesn’t care about making changes in Westeros, she adheres and values the status quo, so this doesn’t make sense, not one lick.  And while I do have a hope that Sansa will grow more positively in the next two books, I do not hold out hope that she will become some champion of the smallfolk by the end and want a more progressive Westeros.  Seriously if you want other characters to support as proponents of the Smallfolk and being more progressive, you don’t have to look any further than Dany, Arya, Jon, Bran, and Tyrion.  

So like Sansa if you want, even hope that she’ll become Queen, but please for the love of God, stop it with the hypocrisy.  Either you support Sansa as queen because you don’t want the status quo to change in the books and you don’t actually care one lick about the plight of the commoner, and are pro-absolute monarchy.  And if you aren’t those things, you shouldn’t support Sansa getting a crown.  If you want a more progressive ending in the books, then you should know Sansa is not the right choice for that because she’s not progressive and she doesn’t care about the smallfolk, or really anything about ruling or about making her country and the world a better place.  It’s not that hard a concept to wrap your mind around, so stop being hypocritical and stop trying to twist who book Sansa really is.  It’s beyond annoying.  

And if you are having a hard time figuring it out, then remember how Sansa and Arya are foils, and apply this to that.  Now which one constantly defends the smallfolk?  Which one has an arc seeing and experiencing the actual plight of the smallfolk?  Which one believes that women should be equal to men and that all people, smallfolk and noble alike should be treated fairly?  Which one doesn’t judge people for being born illegitimate?  Which one actually can make friends and be empathetic to people no matter their backgrounds?  Which one is actually making friends with bastards and butcher boys and blacksmiths and innkeeps and bakers and dyers and sex workers and fishermen, etc?  Yeah, none of that describes Sansa.  It describes Arya.