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istumpysk · 2 years

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Operation Stumpy Re-Read

AFFC: Alayne I (Sansa II) [Chapter 23]

My little chickadee! 🥰

It's too long. Must cut!

As the rising sun came streaming through the windows, Alayne sat up in bed and stretched.

New name, who dis?

+.+.+

The stone was cold beneath her feet, and the wind was blowing fiercely, as it always did up here, but the view made her forget all that for half a heartbeat. Maiden's was the easternmost of the Eyrie's seven slender towers, so she had the Vale before her, its forests and rivers and fields all hazy in the morning light. The way the sun was hitting the mountains made them look like solid gold.

So lovely.

Would you call it an enchantment?

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A falcon soared above the frozen waterfall, blue wings spread wide against the morning sky. Would that I had wings as well.

Bran shoutout!

You know my stance on warging. I don't have any desire to see Sansa slip into a bird.

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She rested her hands on the carved stone balustrade and made herself peer over the edge. She could see Sky six hundred feet below, and the stone steps carved into the mountain, the winding way that led past Snow and Stone all the way down to the valley floor.

Nobody likes a third wheel.

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Around the walls the hosts of Lords Declarant were stirring, emerging from their tents like ants from an anthill. If only they were truly ants, she thought, we could step on them and crush them.

Woah, easy there, Daenerys.

+.+.+

The six had gathered at Runestone after Lysa Arryn's fall, and there made a pact together, vowing to defend Lord Robert, the Vale, and one another. Their declaration made no mention of the Lord Protector, but spoke of "misrule" that must be ended, and of "false friends and evil counselors" as well.

A cold gust of wind blew up her legs.

Incheresting.

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A few of the oldest gowns had been made for young Lysa Tully of Riverrun, however, and others Gretchel had been able to alter to fit Alayne, who was almost as long of leg at three-and-ten as her aunt had been at twenty.

+.+.+

Alayne had darkened it again last night before she went to bed. The wash her aunt had given her changed her own rich auburn into Alayne's burnt brown, but it was seldom long before the red began creeping back at the roots. And what must I do when the dye runs out? The wash had come from Tyrosh, across the narrow sea.

Smells like a developing issue.

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She could hear the wind moaning and sighing round the towers, but that was all.

BRAN?!

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When she had first come to Eyrie, there had been the murmur of Alyssa's Tears as well, but the waterfall was frozen now. Gretchel said it would stay silent till the spring.

Silent, but deadly.

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"I am not hungry," he decided. "I want to go back to bed. I never slept last night. I heard singing. Maester Colemon gave me dreamwine but I could still hear it."

Alayne put down her spoon. "If there had been singing, I should have heard it too. You had a bad dream, that's all."

"No, it wasn't a dream." Tears filled his eyes. "Marillion was singing again. Your father says he's dead, but he isn't."

"He is." It frightened her to hear him talk like this. Bad enough that he is small and sickly, what if he is mad as well? "Sweetrobin, he is. Marillion loved your lady mother too much and could not live with what he'd done to her, so he walked into the sky." Alayne had not seen the body, no more than Robert had, but she did not doubt the fact of the singer's death. "He's gone, truly."

"But I hear him every night. Even when I close the shutters and put a pillow on my head. Your father should have cut his tongue out. I told him to, but he wouldn't."

I've seen people speculate Marillion isn't dead, I've seen people speculate Sweetrobin is a greenseer, and I've seen people speculate Littlefinger is purposely driving the child mad.

I think it's just trauma?

+.+.+

Petyr smiled. "There will be eight of them. Lord Nestor is showing them up, and they have Lyn Corbray with them. Ser Lyn is not the sort of man to stay away when blood is in the offing."

His words did little to soothe her fears. Lyn Corbray had slain almost as many men in duels as he had in battle. He had won his spurs during Robert's Rebellion, she knew, fighting first against Lord Jon Arryn at the gates of Gulltown, and later beneath his banners on the Trident, where he had cut down Prince Lewyn of Dorne, a white knight of the Kingsguard. Petyr said that Prince Lewyn had been sorely wounded by the time the tide of battle swept him to his final dance with Lady Forlorn, but added, "That's not a point you'll want to raise with Corbray, though. Those who do are soon given the chance to ask Martell himself the truth of it, down in the halls of hell." If even half of what she had heard from Lord Robert's guards was true, Lyn Corbray was more dangerous than all six of the Lords Declarant put together. "Why is he coming?" she asked. "I thought the Corbrays were for you."

"Lord Lyonel Corbray is well disposed toward my rule," said Petyr, "but his brother goes his own way. On the Trident, when their father fell wounded, it was Lyn who snatched up Lady Forlorn and slew the man who'd cut him down. Whilst Lyonel was carrying the old man back to the maesters in the rear, Lyn led his charge against the Dornishmen threatening Robert's left, broke their lines to pieces, and slew Lewyn Martell. So when old Lord Corbray died, he bestowed the Lady upon his younger son. Lyonel got his lands, his title, his castle, and all his coin, yet still feels he was cheated of his birthright, whilst Ser Lyn . . . well, he loves Lyonel as much as he loves me. He wanted Lysa's hand for himself."

Please enjoy this absolutely excessive history lesson on Lyn Corbray. God, I wonder if this is an important character.

Keep in mind everything Sansa is told about Lyn Corbray, it makes the end of this chapter even more impressive.

+.+.+

"Your mother is dead, my lord. Until your sixteenth name day, I rule the Eyrie."

Tell me again why he's in such a hurry to hand the Vale over to Harrold Hardyng.

+.+.+

The maester combed his fingers through his hair, dribbling globs of porridge on the floor. "Lady Lysa would give his lordship her breast whenever he grew overwrought. Archmaester Ebrose claims that mother's milk has many heathful properties."

[...]

"No, I think not. I suggest you find another way. The boy is fond of sweets, is he not?"

"Sweets?" said Colemon.

"Sweets. Cakes and pies, jams and jellies, honey on the comb. Perhaps a pinch of sweetsleep in his milk, have you tried that? Just a pinch, to calm him and stop his wretched shaking."

"A pinch?" The apple in the maester's throat moved up and down as he swallowed. "One small pinch . . . perhaps, perhaps. Not too much, and not too often, yes, I might try . . ."

Vetoing the maester's suggestion, and proposing something else.

The problem I have with this scheme is that it relies too heavily on a maester being incompetent.

+.+.+

"I despise porridge." He looked at her with Littlefinger's eyes. "I'd sooner break my fast with a kiss."

How observant.

Starting from this chapter, Sansa will rarely refer to him as Littlefinger in her internal monologue. It's saved for moments when he's no longer Petyr.

+.+.+

A true daughter would not refuse her sire a kiss, so Alayne went to him and kissed him, a quick dry peck upon the cheek, and just as quickly stepped away.

"How . . . dutiful." Littlefinger smiled with his mouth, but not his eyes.

Tell me again why he's in such a hurry to hand Catelyn Sansa over to Brandon Stark Harrold Hardyng.

+.+.+

"Bronze Yohn knows me," she reminded him. "He was a guest at Winterfell when his son rode north to take the black." She had fallen wildly in love with Ser Waymar, she remembered dimly, but that was a lifetime ago, when she was a stupid little girl. "And that was not the only time. Lord Royce saw . . . he saw Sansa Stark again at King's Landing, during the Hand's tourney."

+.+.+

Petyr put a finger under her chin.

I will fold your windpipe.

+.+.+

"That Royce glimpsed this pretty face I do not doubt, but it was one face in a thousand. A man fighting in a tourney has more to concern him than some child in the crowd. And at Winterfell, Sansa was a little girl with auburn hair. My daughter is a maiden tall and fair, and her hair is chestnut. Men see what they expect to see, Alayne."

+.+.+

He kissed her nose.

I will milk your capillaries.

+.+.+

"No. Gods forbid they glimpse me near the high seat of the Arryns, they might think that I mean to sit in it. Cheeks born so low as mine must never aspire to such lofty cushions."

Sure.

If you wish to believe Littlefinger intends to hand the Vale and Sansa over to some arrogant, headstrong, 18-year-old boy who doesn't even like him, you are more than welcome to do so.

I will not be joining you.

+.+.+

"Yes, but the castle is yours."

"Ah, and what a castle it is. Cavernous halls and ruined towers, ghosts and draughts, ruinous to heat, impossible to garrison . . . and there's that small matter of a curse."

"Curses are only in songs and stories."

That seemed to amuse him.

Worried about curses, are you?

"I do solemnly proclaim Tyrion of House Lannister and Sansa of House Stark to be man and wife, one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever, and cursed be the one who comes between them." - Sansa III, ASOS

+.+.+

"Has someone made a song about Gregor Clegane dying of a poisoned spear thrust? Or about the sellsword before him, whose limbs Ser Gregor removed a joint at a time? That one took the castle from Ser Amory Lorch, who received it from Lord Tywin. A bear killed one, your dwarf the other. Lady Whent's died as well, I hear. Lothstons, Strongs, Harroways, Strongs . . . Harrenhal has withered every hand to touch it."

"Then give it to Lord Frey."

Petyr laughed. "Perhaps I shall. Or better still, to our sweet Cersei. Though I should not speak harshly of her, she is sending me some splendid tapestries. Isn't that kind of her?"

Bran won't be scared of Harrenhal, you wuss.

Someone on Reddit suggested the tapestry plot (that isn't much of a plot) exists to give us a better sense of the timeline. That might be spot on.

+.+.+

"—I might have to remove her from the game sooner than I'd planned. Provided she does not remove herself first." Petyr teased her with a little smile. "In the game of thrones, even the humblest pieces can have wills of their own. Sometimes they refuse to make the moves you've planned for them. Mark that well, Alayne. It's a lesson that Cersei Lannister still has yet to learn. Now, don't you have some duties to perform?"

Kettleblack things?

In the game of thrones, even the humblest pieces can have wills of their own. Sometimes they refuse to make the moves you've planned for them.

+.+.+

The solar next. Its floor was covered by a Myrish carpet, so there was no need to lay down rushes. Alayne asked two serving men to erect the trestle table and bring up eight of the heavy oak-and-leather chairs. For a feast she would have placed one at the head of the table, one at the foot, and three along each side, but this was no feast. She had the men arrange six chairs on one side of the table, two on the other.

I love it. She's making Nestor Royce sit beside Littlefinger. Petyr never instructed her to do that.

+.+.+

It might be that the lords would talk late into the night. They would need fresh candles. After Maddy laid the fire, she sent her down to find the scented beeswax candles Lord Waxley had given Lady Lysa when he sought to win her hand. Then she visited the kitchens once again, to make certain of the wine and bread. All seemed well in hand, and there was still time enough for her to bathe and wash her hair and change.

Why Sansa, you seem to excel at running a household.

+.+.+

Steep stone steps crept up the mountainside past the waycastles Stone and Snow, but they came to an end at Sky.

Two's company, three's a crowd.

+.+.+

Petyr had given her a roll of arms to study, so she knew their heraldry if not their faces.

This is like giving her access to Instagram.

+.+.+

Hunter's cheeks and nose were red as apples, which bespoke a certain fondness for the grape. She made certain to fill his cup as often as he emptied it.

Littlefinger didn't instruct her to do this either. Hahahaha.

+.+.+

The youngest man in the party had three ravens on his chest, each clutching a blood-red heart in its talons. His brown hair was shoulder length; one stray lock curled down across his forehead. Ser Lyn Corbray, Alayne thought, with a wary glance at his hard mouth and restless eyes.

Should I read into that sigil?

+.+.+

He will know me. How could he not? She considered throwing herself at his feet to beg for his protection. He never fought for Robb, why should he fight for me? The war is finished and Winterfell is fallen. "Lord Royce," she asked timidly, "will you have a cup of wine, to take the chill off?"

DO IT.

TRUST YOURSELF.

+.+.+

Bronze Yohn had slate-grey eyes, half-hidden beneath the bushiest eyebrows she had ever seen. They crinkled when he looked down at her. "Do I know you, girl?"

Uh oh!

+.+.+

"How old are you, child?" asked Lady Waynwood.

"Four-fourteen, my lady." For a moment she forgot how old Alayne should be. "And I am no child, but a maiden flowered."

"But not deflowered, one can hope." Young Lord Hunter's bushy mustache hid his mouth entirely.

"Yet," said Lyn Corbray, as if she were not there. "But ripe for plucking soon, I'd say."

Sansa's gone from being a child to fully ripened faster than you can say five year gap.

+.+.+

She went to fetch the flagon whilst the visitors arranged themselves side by side . . . all save Nestor Royce, who hesitated before walking around the table to take the empty chair beside Lord Petyr

She's so underrated.

+.+.+

Lyn Corbray, who went to stand beside the hearth instead. The heart-shaped ruby in the pommel of his sword shone redly as he warmed his hands. Alayne saw him smile at Ser Lothor Brune. Ser Lyn is very handsome, for an older man, she thought, but I do not like the way he smiles.

Lyn Corbray doesn't lack fire!

Sansa caught a smile between Lothor and Lyn. She's on the scent!

+.+.+

"His lordship will remain in the Vale," declared Yohn Royce.

"I mean to take the boy with me to Runestone, and raise him up to be a knight that Jon Arryn would be proud of."

"Why Runestone?" Petyr mused. "Why not Ironoaks or the Redfort? Why not Longbow Hall?"

Yay, we're back!

Places Sweetrobin won't be fostered:

Casterly Rock

Dragonstone

Winterfell

The Twins

Runestone

Ironoaks

Redfort

Longbow Hall

Hmmm.

+.+.+

Runestone suits us all. Lord Yohn raised three fine sons of his own, there is no man more fit to foster his young lordship. Maester Helliweg is a good deal older and more experienced than your own Maester Colemon, and better suited to treat Lord Robert's frailties.

Casually throwing in Colemon might be in over his head.

+.+.+

At Runestone he will also find other boys his own age, more suitable companions than the old women and sellswords that presently surround him.

Let Bran be his companion!

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"Robert should have an older boy about him too. A promising young squire, say. Someone he could admire and try to emulate." Petyr turned to Lady Waynwood. "You have such a boy at Ironoaks, my lady. Perhaps you might agree to send me Harrold Hardyng."

Welcome to the story, Chad.

+.+.+

"Are you threatening me with war, ser?" Petyr did not sound the least afraid.

Bronze Yohn said, "We shall have Lord Robert."

For a moment it seemed as though they had come to an impasse, until Lyn Corbray turned from the fire. "All this talk makes me ill. Littlefinger will talk you out of your smallclothes if you listen long enough. The only way to settle his sort is with steel." He drew his longsword.

Petyr spread his hands. "I wear no sword, ser."

"Easily remedied." Candlelight rippled along the smoke-grey steel of Corbray's blade, so dark that it put Sansa in mind of Ice, her father's greatsword. "Your apple-eater holds a blade. Tell him to give it to you, or draw that dagger."

She saw Lothor Brune reach for his own sword, but before the blades could meet Bronze Yohn rose in wrath. "Put up your steel, ser! Are you a Corbray or a Frey? We are guests here."

Lady Waynwood pursed her lips, and said, "This is unseemly."

"Sheathe your sword, Corbray," Young Lord Hunter echoed. "You shame us all with this."

"Come, Lyn," chided Redfort in a softer tone. "This will serve for nought. Put Lady Forlorn to bed."

"My lady has a thirst," Ser Lyn insisted. "Whenever she comes out to dance, she likes a drop of red."

Littlefinger was losing until Lyn Corbray stepped in and disgraced the Lords Declarant. Nice.

"My lady has a thirst," Ser Lyn insisted. "Whenever she comes out to dance, she likes a drop of red."

Count on that.

"Your apple-eater holds a blade. Tell him to give it to you, or draw that dagger."

Which dagger would that be?

He he he.

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"Lord Baelish," Ser Symond said, "you must forgive us that display."

"Must I?" Littlefinger's voice had grown cold. "You brought him here, my lords."

Bronze Yohn said, "It was never our intent—"

"You brought him here. I would be well within my rights to call my guards and have all of you arrested."

Hunter lurched to his feet so wildly that he almost knocked the flagon out of Alayne's hands. "You gave us safe conduct!"

"Yes. Be grateful that I have more honor than some." Petyr sounded as angry as she had ever heard him. "I have read your declaration and heard your demands. Now hear mine. Remove your armies from this mountain. Go home and leave my son in peace. Misrule there has been, I will not deny it, but that was Lysa's work, not mine. Grant me but a year, and with Lord Nestor's help I promise that none of you shall have any cause for grievance."

[...]

Alayne could see the doubt blooming in the eyes of the Lords Declarant. "A year is not so long a time," Lord Redfort said uncertainly. "Mayhaps . . . if you gave assurances . . ."

[...]

"Gladly," said Petyr. "It is friends I want, not foes. I shall pardon all of you, in writing if you wish. Even Lyn Corbray. His brother is a good man, there is no need to bring down shame upon a noble House."

What a guy, he'll even pardon them!

Littlefinger gets the win, and nobody suspects a thing. Well, maybe two people.

+.+.+

"There is no need. It is plain that he has won." Bronze Yohn's grey eyes considered Petyr Baelish. "I like it not, but it would seem you have your year. Best use it well, my lord. Not all of us are fooled."

Not clear if Bronze Yohn suspects foul play, or if this is more of a general assessment of Littlefinger.

+.+.+

He bewitched them, Alayne thought as she lay abed that night listening to the wind howl outside her windows. She could not have said where the suspicion came from, but once it crossed her mind it would not let her sleep. She tossed and turned, worrying at it like a dog at some old bone. Finally, she rose and dressed herself, leaving Gretchel to her dreams.

Given what Sansa knows, Lyn Corbray did not do anything out of character. But this is Sansa.

Nobody can uncover a plot quite like Sansa.

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Petyr was still awake, scratching out a letter. "Alayne," he said. "My sweet. What brings you here so late?"

"I had to know. What will happen in a year?"

He put down his quill. "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."

Littlefinger's plan is half the lords dying. I think that's worthy of a red flag.

+.+.+

"And Ser Lyn Corbray?"

The candlelight was dancing in his eyes. "Ser Lyn will remain my implacable enemy. He will speak of me with scorn and loathing to every man he meets, and lend his sword to every secret plot to bring me down."

That was when her suspicion turned to certainty. "And how shall you reward him for this service?"

Littlefinger laughed aloud. "With gold and boys and promises, of course. Ser Lyn is a man of simple tastes, my sweetling. All he likes is gold and boys and killing."

Killing whom?

With zero evidence, Sansa just pieced together a plot that the six Lords Declarant couldn't.

So underrated.

Final thoughts:

Lyn Corbray! We're not done with Lyn Corbray, or Sansa's intuition.

Let's summarize everything we're told about Lyn Corbray before this reveal.

Across the terrace, Lysa laughed gaily at some jest of Lord Hunter's, and nibbled a blackberry from the point of Ser Lyn Corbray's dagger. They were the suitors who stood highest in Lysa's favor … today, at least. - Catelyn VII, AGOT

Ser Lyn was a different sort of folly; lean and handsome, heir to an ancient but impoverished house, but vain, reckless, hot-tempered … and, it was whispered, notoriously uninterested in the intimate charms of women. - Catelyn VII, AGOT

Ser Kevan cleared his throat. "I would sooner have Petyr Baelish ruling the Eyrie than any of Lady Lysa's other suitors. Yohn Royce, Lyn Corbray, Horton Redfort . . . these are dangerous men, each in his own way. And proud. Littlefinger may be clever, but he has neither high birth nor skill at arms. The lords of the Vale will never accept such as their liege." - Tyrion III, ASOS

The device painted on the shield was one Sansa did not know; a grey stone head with fiery eyes, upon a light green field. "My grandfather's shield," Petyr explained when he saw her gazing at it. "His own father was born in Braavos and came to the Vale as a sellsword in the hire of Lord Corbray, so my grandfather took the head of the Titan as his sigil when he was knighted." - Sansa VII, ASOS

"You are well-informed. Which Corbrays? Not Lord Lyonel?"

"No, his brother. Ser Lyn mislikes me, for some reason."

"Lyn Corbray is a dangerous man," Lord Nestor said doggedly. - Sansa I, AFFC

Nestor Royce had been silent all this while, but now he spoke up loudly. "I once hoped to wed Lady Lysa myself. As did Lord Hunter's father and Lady Anya's son. Corbray scarce left her side for half a year. - Alayne I, AFFC

Lyn Corbray is dangerous. Got that? It's repeated enough.

Lyn Corbray is a proud, vain, reckless, hot-tempered man.

Lyn Corbray comes from an ancient, but impoverished house.

Before Littlefinger stepped in, Lyn Corbray courted Lysa for half a year, and stood the best chance of winning her favor.

Littlefinger's great-grandfather was a sellsword who served House Corbray, and now Littlefinger is Lord Protector of the Vale.

Despite all of this, Littlefinger manages to secure a secret alliance with Lyn, by offering gold, boys, and other promises.

Her new husband seemed to spend more time at the foot of the mountain than he did atop it. He was gone now, had been gone the past four days, meeting with the Corbrays. From bits and pieces of overheard conversations Sansa knew that Jon Arryn's bannermen resented Lysa's marriage and begrudged Petyr his authority as Lord Protector of the Vale. - Sansa VII, ASOS

And our gifted little Sansa is able to detect that secret alliance, when a whole room full of nobles couldn't.

Since the Joffrey debacle, Sansa has continuously demonstrated a remarkable ability to read people and situations.

Sansa always knows.

The king's own fool, the pie-faced simpleton called Moon Boy, danced about on stilts, all in motley, making mock of everyone with such deft cruelty that Sansa wondered if he was simple after all. - Sansa II, AGOT

I hear all sorts of things as a fool that I never heard when I was a knight. They talk as though I am not there, and"—he leaned close, breathing his winey breath right in her face—"the Spider pays in gold for any little trifle. I think Moon Boy has been his for years." - Sansa IV, ACOK

Sansa always knows.

"Ser Ilyn's the King's Justice, not Ser Loras," Jeyne said. "Lord Eddard should have sent him."

Sansa shuddered. Every time she looked at Ser Ilyn Payne, she shivered. - Sansa III, AGOT

Sansa always knows.

Varys was wringing his soft hands together, Grand Maester Pycelle kept his sleepy eyes on the papers in front of him, but she could feel Littlefinger staring. Something about the way the small man looked at her made Sansa feel as though she had no clothes on. Goose bumps pimpled her skin. - Sansa IV, AGOT

Sansa always knows.

Sansa glimpsed motion from the corner of her eye as Janos Slynt made his entrance. [...] For his sigil he had taken a bloody spear, gold on a night-black field. The sight of it raised goose prickles up and down Sansa's arms. - Sansa V, AGOT

Sansa always knows.

Ser Boros was short-tempered, Ser Meryn cold, and Ser Mandon's strange dead eyes made her uneasy - Sansa I, ACOK

Sansa always knows.

"I don't want to." Lollys clutched at her maid, a slender, pretty girl with short dark hair who looked as though she wanted nothing so much as to shove her mistress into the dry moat, onto those iron spikes. "Please, please, I don't want to." - Sansa V, ACOK

Sansa always knows.

Lord Paramount of the Trident, Sansa thought, and Lord of Harrenhal as well. She did not understand why that should make him so happy; the honors were as empty as the title granted to Hallyne the Pyromancer. Harrenhal was cursed, everyone knew that, and the Lannisters did not even hold it at present. Besides, the lords of the Trident were sworn to Riverrun and House Tully, and to the King in the North; they would never accept Littlefinger as their liege. Unless they are made to. Unless my brother and my uncle and my grandfather are all cast down and killed. The thought made Sansa anxious, but she told herself she was being silly. - Sansa VIII, ACOK

Sansa always knows.

Yet the more she thought about it all, the more she wondered. Joff might restrain himself for a few turns, perhaps as long as a year, but soon or late he will show his claws, and when he does . . . The realm might have a second Kingslayer, and there would be war inside the city, as the men of the lion and the men of the rose made the gutters run red. - Sansa I, ASOS

Be that as it may. Lady Olenna was not about to let Joff harm her precious darling granddaughter, but unlike her son she also realized that under all his flowers and finery, Ser Loras is as hot-tempered as Jaime Lannister. Toss Joffrey, Margaery, and Loras in a pot, and you've got the makings for kingslayer stew. The old woman understoof something else as well. - Sansa VI, ASOS

Sansa always knows.

Great, why is this important?

Let's skip ahead.

There is truth in that, Alayne thought, but some demon of mischief was in her that morning, so she gave Ser Lyn a thrust of her own. Smiling sweetly, she said, "My lord father tells me your brother's new wife is with child." Corbray gave her a dark look. "Lyonel sends his regrets. He remains at Heart's Home with his peddler's daughter, watching her belly swell as if he were the first man who ever got a wench pregnant."

Oh, that's an open wound, thought Alayne. Lyonel Corbray's first wife had given him nothing but a frail, sickly babe who died in infancy, and during all those years Ser Lyn had remained his brother's heir. When the poor woman finally died, however, Petyr Baelish had stepped in and brokered a new marriage for Lord Corbray. The second Lady Corbray was sixteen, the daughter of a wealthy Gulltown merchant, but she had come with an immense dowry, and men said she was a tall, strapping, healthy girl, with big breasts and good, wide hips. And fertile too, it seems. - Alayne I, TWOW

Littlefinger has inexplicably poked the hot-tempered, dangerous bear again.

Sansa is quick to note he's not a happy man, but it gets worse.

Alayne could not help herself. She smiled and said, "My father is always pleased to be of service to one of Lord Robert's leal bannermen. I'm sure he would be most delighted to help broker a marriage for you as well, Ser Lyn."

"How kind of him." Corbray's lips drew back in something that might have been meant as a smile, though it gave Alayne a chill. "But what need have I for heirs when I am landless and like to remain so, thanks to our Lord Protector? No. Tell your lord father I need none of his brood mares."

The venom in his voice was so thick that for a moment she almost forgot that Lyn Corbray was actually her father's catspaw, bought and paid for. Or was he? Perhaps, instead of being Petyr's man pretending to be Petyr's foe, he was actually his foe pretending to be his man pretending to be his foe.

The dreaded chill.

Sansa senses something isn't right with Lyn Corbray.

Always trust Sansa.

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#operation stumpy re-read #affc #alayne i #sansa ii

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crownedtargaryen · 1 year

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Headcanons for Your First Time With Aemond, Aegon, Jacerys, Bran, Robb and Podrick

A/N : I’ve never written a headcanons post before so I have no real promises this will be any good. Please feel free to go to my ask box and recommend some ideas!

ALL NOTES (SHARES, LIKES, COMMENTS) ARE APPRECIATED!!

18+ NSFW content

Aegon

Without hesitation I can tell you this man is a switch

He would definitely start off harsh

He’d immediately go to tear your clothes off like you’re a whore h’s bought from a brothel

He looks at you like you’re a fresh piece of meat and he’s been starved for ages, absolutely craving every inch of your skin

You push him back and he’ll stare at you in shock, but then calm down

I’m assuming since you’re reading his you have a “i can fix him” mentality, so you’ve fixed him in this

he feels guilty at first, but you reassure him it’s alright and to be gentle, that you’ve never done this before

at you admitting he’s your first, he starts to rile up again, but is obviously swallowing it down

he’ll lift your dress and slip his hand beneath your undone corset, kissing over that fragile neck and leaving the filthiest bites on your skin

”You’re mine” he’ll demand against your earlobe “And I’ll make sure the whole castle knows that by the end of this.”

He’ll slip his fingers in, working your insides hesitantly. He’s not used to pleasuring someone else, more doing all this for his own pleasure

His movements are sloppy and reckless, but it feels good either way

It’s almost awkward, he stares at you at moments, trying to see if you’re feeling good

eventually you have to take charge of the situation, pushing him onto the sheets and working your way around his body

putting his dick in your mouth, watching as he whines and bucks his hips while panting like a dog in heat

you slip him in, your head tilting back. He mewls in pleasure, sitting up and guiding your hips, you stop him and tell him it hurts.

he listens, something you wouldn’t expect. You smile, petting his white hair and then locking lips with his, your bodies smothering each other as you ride him

you both are noisy, and he starts getting rougher with you, but you don’t seem to mind.

by the end of it all, he’s fucking you senseless until you’re on the verge of losing yourself, making a mess all over him as he does inside of you.

as for aftercare, he knows nothing of such. He merely gets up, wipes himself off, then lays with you and lets you cuddle close as he strokes your hair

honestly, the sex was good but he doesn’t seem to be educated enough. It’ll take a lot of it to get him perfect. ;)

Aemond

He’s a top and would NEVER let you overpower him

The entire experience is like a power trip, he tells you over and over that he owns you, and you believe it

but it took forever to even get him into bed

you’ve been set to wed for quite a while, but he’s so focused on the war and everything else that he won’t pay you ANY attention

and you HATE it

so, when the wedding comes around, you specifically request a bedding ceremony, which pleases his mother after some hesitation

at first he weirdly hesitates in touching you, instead he commands you strip in front of him.

as your corset and gown drop, a sly smile comes to his face as he licks his lips at the sight of your figure

he’ll move over and run his fingers down your stomach and to your lower lips, rubbing in a circle

where he learned this? God knows, but it feels so good you can’t dwell

your legs turn to jelly as he slowly strips himself from his garb, smacking your hand away when you attempt to assist

he’ll lower you on the bed with one arm, kissing down your collar bone and chest, licking over your nipples

”You’re gorgeous,” he’ll whisper in a deep and lustful voice. “All of this is mine.”

he’ll then push inside you without warning, stilling and looking into your eyes forcefully, his eye patch still on

”Isn’t that right.” He’ll growl, thrusting unto you with slow and rough smacks of his waist to your inner thigh

”Come on, baby” he’ll coo, holding your hands down and smiling so sly

”say it.”

you swallow hard then can’t utter any words, it feels amazing, like you were made for this very moment

he slows to a stop and chuckles at your whimpers, shuffling ur hips

”Say. It.”

“I’m yours” you’ll whimper, his smile growing. “I’m yours and yours alone, Aemond.”

You reach up to take his eyepatch off and he flinches, catching you off guard

”I don’t want to scare you,” he suddenly says, making you flush and smile.

”You’re perfect, a scar couldn’t scare me.”

He hesitantly let’s you take off the patch, his sapphire eye now visible. You hold his face and kiss the scar, feeling him twitch inside you at such a gesture.

He starts moving in and out, panting and letting out low grunts but not loud enough for it to trail outside of the room

He’ll grow into a pounding, enjoying pulling your hair and flipping you around like you’re a play thing

He’d degrade you, mixing them with praises and leave red hand prints from smacking your ass and thighs

He’d go for about 2-3 rounds before finishing up inside, and making sure you finished as well.

He’ll then clean you up with extra cloth and even give your cunt a few licks, then kiss you and make you taste both of your juices and the love you made.

then, he’ll arrange a bath and take it with you, not caring to clean up the mess on the sheets, urging a servant to do it for him as he holds you close in the water and says nothing

just rubbing your thigh and kissing over your shoulder with relaxed breathing as you wash his hair and face with peppered kisses between each other

Jacerys

A top. For sure.

he definitely likes to take control after you think you are, another power trip but much gentler

hes also like Aemond with he doesn’t do anything sexual until the bedding ceremony

but not because he’s too busy for you, oh no he’s made SO much time for you

he just has fun doing romantics rather than sexual things with you

every day is a new adventure, you almost forget your desires

but once the bedding ceremony starts, he’s got his hands on you in ways you didn’t think were possible

of course, he starts off slow, taking you from your garb without any haste

he looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, but doesn’t seem all that interested in your body

no, he loves that pretty face of yours

he loves the expressions it makes, the noises that come out of those beautiful parted lips

he loves it with so much of his being that he’ll do anything to see those faces

so, he picks you up with a heated kiss and places you against the wall, looking to you eagerly as his kisses trail down. He keeps you up with just those strong arms on your legs

he loves how surprised you get when he places your thighs on his shoulders

oh he definitely knows his way with his tongue too

he’ll know all the right places, looking up to you as his tongue dances on your cunt and inside

he smiles, you can feel it in those lower lips of yours, when you tilt your head back and say his name

he LOVES it when you say his full name

not Jace, but Jacerys

he removes himself just before you can finish, kissing you and making you taste yourself on his tongue

he’ll place you on the bed so gently, his hands feeling over your waist and a giddy grin spread on his face

”You’re all mine,” he’ll whisper, raising a brow. “I want you to remember that. My wife, the barer of my beautiful children.”

unlike Aemond, he sticks to praises and loving terms

”Love” “Beautiful” “Pretty” “My goddess”

and you definitely feel like a goddess

he doesn’t insert just yet, rubbing it on the base of your lower lips and slit

he teases you, but not in painful way

you softly beg him

he loves it, he loves when you speak. Your voice is like honey to him, he wants to eat it up and drown in that beautiful tongue of yours

”Since you asked so nicely, Princess” he’d tease, shoving inside of you before running still and gentle

he def moves his hand down to work the clit. No questions asked.

he’ll kiss you only a few times, not wanting to silence you

he’d work you well. Slow at first, then a steady rhythm. Not too fast, but not insanely slow

he’d leave marks on your chest, in places only he can see

and when you’re done, he’d bury deep inside and let it out

as for aftercare, he’d pick you up once he’s recovered and whisper about how amazing you did

he’d clean you up and see to it you’re bathed. He doesn’t mind being sweaty and heated, so he doesn’t get in the bath with you

no, he instead bathes you like a servant

he’s so gentle with his touch, it almost feels ludicrous

then, he dries you off and takes one last moment to admire your beauty

then, he dresses you. He doesn’t let you do it yourself

he has trouble with it at first, even if it’s just a night garb

But once he’s got you clothed, he’ll take you back to the bedroom and get the sheets changed before holding you close and drifting to sleep after you

Podrick

hear me out, a soft switch

he LIVES to please you

Definitely has mommy issues and a mommy kink

since he isn’t of royalty he’d probably act on his desires when you show interest

he’d definitely only do it when you want to, but that doesn’t stop his tempting gaze

he finds you gorgeous, eyeing you down and smirking slightly to himself as he thinks the nastiest thoughts of you

and oh you love it. So much.

When you finally admit your desires, he’ll ask if he can kiss you

he seems shy at first, gentle with his hands and movements

then, you show eagerness and desire. It drives him crazy

he’ll open your legs and work your cunt with his tongue

he loves. LOVES. When you scream and shake

he’ll pet your thighs and pump his tongue in and out at a steady pace while sucking on your folds and clit

he’d have to hold your legs down as you cum in his mouth, and he loves it

he’d try to get up and leave for a moment, but you stop him and plead for him to lose himself with you

he’s SO hesitant, but then strips from his clothes and gets on top of you

as he’s on top of you he’d softly go “Are you sure?” And wait patiently for your consent

when given, he’ll push in, and the sigh he lets out as his eyes roll back is mesmerizing

he’ll bite his lip, hard, and move slowly in and out, groaning and looking in your eyes, loving the sight of you

your faltering expression gives him confidence as he presses his hand on your clit and works it as he quickens his pace, making you roll your eyes back as well

he’d be too nervous to kiss you, just working you like he’s don’t this a million times over.

he’d cradle you after he busts outside, and finger you until you softly plea him to stop.

he’ll wipe you off and clean himself off, not thinking of bathing, just holding you close and not wanting to lose this moment.

he’ll leave soft marks on your shoulders and chest, obsessed with your breasts, and admire you with so much love

”I love you” he’ll whisper “I hope I can marry you soon.”

Bran

A bottom. I will not take criticism.

he doesn’t know where the clit is, and it’s not necessarily a bad thing. He’s just too inexperienced

When you first present the idea of exploration into sexual territory, he’s hesitant

he’ll look at you with a “me? You want to try with ME?”

When you insist that you want him, he’d flush and kind of pull away

when you ask why he’s so scared, he tells you “I’ve never tried anything like that before.” And then look at you, so lovingly and worrisome “I’m not even sure if *it* works.”

his eyes will widen when you say “There’s only one way to find out.” And he nods then verbalizes consent to trying.

He’s shaking as you help him lay comfortably on the bed, his eyes trailing you. He loves when you tease him.

you sit on his lap and roll your hips as your garb is stripped, and he eagerly reaches for you, but you stop him. He obeys, looking at you with pleading and innocent eyes

his eyes start on only your face, then his thoughts best him. He looks lower, eyeing your chest and sighing, a new hardness under his clothes. Then lower, and he lets out what almost sounds like a pitiful whimper

you’re flushed at his reactions, taking his hand as his gaze snaps to your face with a guilty look. You move his hand and guide it to your clit, where his breath hitches at the wetness below.

”Rub in circles, Bran,” you’ll whisper, watching as he swallows hard and licks his lips as he works you insanely well, surprising you. You whine and moan softly, his eyes blowing wide and his cheeks blood red.

he LOVVVES your noises holy shit

and he adores the way your breasts bounce as he pleases you

he would be fine doing this and only this the entire time, but is surprised when you move his fingers to your entrance and adjust them, then push them in.

he keeps them still, then you guide them in and out, his eyes going to your face as you sigh and groan. He moves faster, picking up the movement amazingly.

As you strip him from his clothes, he looks adorable while he’s flustered. Shuffling and eyeing your chest once more then your face.

he does NOT know where to look

you’ll reveal his cock, and it’s big. Much bigger than you expected on a man, it’s stands up straight and eager, twitching slightly. He looks HUMILIATED.

you reassure him, moving to his side and holding his head to your chest, he kisses over your breasts and groans, moving and licking over your nipples. He LOVVVVES this.

you jerk him off, seeing if he feels it. And oh he definitely does.

he grabs you, shuffling and moaning under his breath, it almost doesn’t make you wanna stop

but you steady to a stop and ride him, his eyes rolling back and his breathing heavy and uneven. He holds your waist, moaning your name over and over as you hold his arms and tilt your head back. He sits up all the way and kisses you

he loves how your lips taste, groaning against your mouth and even moving into a sloppy make out to muffle his pathetic whimpers.

he softly tells you he thinks he’s about to burst from the inside and you tell him it’s you being close to cumming. He doesn’t even think about it and without warning bursts inside of you.

hes definitely apologetic after the high wears down, but you shush him and cuddle close, not caring about a cleanup. You just want to be close to him, and he wants the same.

Robb

He’s a hard read, but I feel like he’d top you after being a bit unsure about his place in the bedroom

he’d definitely know where the clit is. I take no criticism.

he’d do it whenever you seem to show a lot of interest in it, and would sacrifice anything to keep you as his

he starts off slow, getting excited at just the sight of the garb sliding down your shoulders

his eyes are EVERYWHERE. At first, your face, in need to feel like he isn’t disrespecting you somehow, but once he sees your body he’s done for

he loves when you pull his hair, especially when you kiss him.

he’d finger you until you can’t function, smiling so wide at just the sight of your desires

he’d never push you into anything, just kissing down your body and leaving love bites all along your skin

he’s OBSESSED with the way your body follows his hands, and how you lean into him with such desire

he’s definitely a doggy style type of boy

dont get me wrong, he LOVES looking at your expressions, but he loves pulling your hair and seeing the way your back arches

he’d start off slow, rolling his hips in a gentle and easy rhythm, but when it’s not enough for you he hastily pounds you into the bed

he’ll bite. 100% he bites you and will whisper “Such a good girl, my pretty little thing… You’re all mine.” And would grip your ass, groaning softly in your ear

no hesitation or apologies, he cums inside and ENSURES you’re over your limit before he’s done

he’d take such good care of you. Washing you off, kissing the sore spots, massaging you, he’d even offer to give you some… “after treatment” with his mouth ;)

def eats you out after too, after he washes you off he goes for another round but only for your pleasure, letting your ride his face

he’ll then wipe you down and pepper you with kisses, dressing you and refusing to let you help

he’d then cuddle you so close, promising to love you forever and that he’d never let anyone hurt you, refusing to sleep until you’re sound asleep and he knows you’re safe.

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