Sansa has been seasick for most of her trip at sea.
Sansa: *vomits everywhere*
See?
Anyway, she has dreams about Joffrey’s death. Which is actually pretty cool. So it’s not at all a nightmare.
Littlefinger walks in on her, like a creeper.
Littlefinger: Oh, hey girl. Trying to sleep, huh? Cool. I was just staring at you.
Sansa: Gross. Anyway, I keep having dreams about Joffrey’s death. I wonder if my “husband” Tyrion was really behind it all.
Littlefinger: Oh, Tyrion’s hands are far from clean. After all, he sticks them inside of pox-infested whores all the time. Hey, speaking of your husband and whores… did you know that he was married once before? Yeah. And once he got bored of her, he had her passed around to a bunch of Lannister guards and watched as they ran a train on her. He probably meant to do the same to you, one day.
Sansa: Well, that seems like somewhat of a distortion of facts, but then again I am talking to you, Littlefinger. So that’s just par for the course.
Littlefinger: Harsh, but fair. Anyway… LAND HO! We’re finally arriving home!
Sansa gets up and looks out.
Sansa: Well, that’s not Winterfell.
Littlefinger: No, it’s the Fingers. It’s MY home!
Sansa: When you said you were taking me “home,” you were clearly deceiving me.
Littlefinger: True. I’m taking you to the Vale. I’m going to marry your Aunt Lysa.
Sansa: Ugh.
Littlefinger: But first we stop by where I grew up! HERE!
They get off the ship. They are on some poor farmland, surrounded by huts and sheep shit.
Sansa: Nasty. This is where you’re from?
Littlefinger: Yep. Not exactly the pinnacle of civilization, but then again it’s far away from Varys’s spies. Here you will be safe until we continue onward to the Vale. Oh, and by the way… when I show up to the Vale, Kings Landing won’t exactly be happy that I have Sansa Stark with me. So we need to give you a new identity.
Sansa: Can I be Jean Grey from X-Men?
Littlefinger: No.
Sansa: Damn.
Littlefinger and Sansa are greeted by a bunch of people who are Littlefinger’s household staff. Do you need to remember them? No. You will never see any of them ever again. So why bother?
Bryen: Hey!
Grisel: Yeah, that’s no fair.
Kella: Yeah, you think our role in this chapter would at least be covered a little.
Nope.
Littlefinger: Here Sansa, have some wine. And you probably need a bath. Let me watch you bathe.
Sansa: No thanks. I know you’re trying to get me drunk, you pedo.
Littelfinger: Pedo? No! No! Of course not. I’m like a father figure to you. In fact, that will be your new identity. You will pretend to be my bastard daughter, Alayne Stone. I’ll name you after my mom.
Sansa: So I’m a “daughter” figure to you, and yet you want to name me after your mom and have sex with me. Dude, you really need to see a psychologist. Big time.
Littlefinger: Look. Just remember your damn new name.
Sansa: “Alayne Stone.”
Littlefinger: Yes. Yes. Good. I think you’ll be a good player in this game. A better player than your father, at least.
Sansa: Game?
Littlefinger: Yes! The Game of Th—
Sansa lunges over the table and stops Baelish from saying it.
Sansa: Please don’t actually say it. I’m tired of that recurring Pee-Wee joke. It’s just not funny. Recurring jokes where someone says a key word and then an action happens in response to that key word are just not funny. I don’t know why we keep doing those jokes.
Suddenly, green slime falls all over Sansa because she said “I Don’t Know.”
Sansa: Really? REALLY? A You Can’t Do That on Television joke? How many people are going to get that one?
Littlefinger: My point is, there are two types of people in the Game of Th—ermm… nevermind, but there are two types of people. Players and pieces.
Sansa: You trying to say I’m a piece.
Littlefinger: Mmm mmm gurl, you are a piece, that’s for sure. A piece of ayass!
Sansa: *blinks without emotion*
Littlefinger: But I mean to make you into a player. Or a playa, really. Like me. Don’t be offended by being a piece. We all start off as pieces. Some people who think they are players are actually still pieces. Take Cersei, for example. This whole time she thinks she was in control. But you know what she is? Utterly predictable. She craves power but wouldn’t know what to do with it if she got it.
Sansa: So what are you trying to tell me, Mr. “Player?” Are you responsible for Dontos poisoning Joffrey?
Littlefinger: Haha, Dontos didn’t do shit. He was never left with such an important task.
Just then, Oswell shows up. Remember him from the last Sansa chapter?
Sansa: Sort of, but not really.
She said he looked sort of familiar.
Sansa: Oh, right. Hey Oswell. You look sort of familiar.
Oswell: Yes. My name is Oswell… Oswell Kettleblack.
Sansa: Ah, I see. Like all those other Kettleblacks that are loyal to Cersei. HEY! Wait a minute…
Littlefinger: Hahah, you see what I mean about Cersei thinking that she’s a player? Those Kettleblacks that are so “loyal” to her… they really work for me!
Sansa: So did they poison Joffrey?
Littlefinger: No. Ask yourself… where did the poison come from?
Sansa: My hairnet?
Littlefinger: Right! And did anyone touch your hairnet or tussle with it in the minutes prior to Joffrey’s death?
Sansa: No, only Lady Olenna who was fixing my hair, but she--- OH CRAP! THE QUEEN OF THORNES?!
Littlefinger: Yeup.
Sansa: That lady is BAD-ASS!
Littlefinger: True. Remember… it was I that was sent by the Lannisters to make peace between Joffrey and the Tyrells! It was I that returned with Renly and the Tyrell armies for the Battle of the Blackwater, and I that led the discussions about a marriage contract between Margaery Tyrell and Joffrey. So what did I do when they asked what kind of a person Joffrey was? I told them the truth and they were horrified. They knew what Loras would do once Joffrey beat his sister. He’d kill Joffrey. Which is the result that everyone wanted anyway. But what if we could get Joffrey out of the way and have Margaery marry Tommen instead? The cute, innocent, docile boy? Everyone would get what they want! The Tyrells get Margaery married to the king and she becomes a queen, she doesn’t get beaten or abused… the whole kingdom gets rid of a shitty, tyrant, and I get to piss off Cersei and continue to fuck around and manipulate people. Chaos is an Escalator.
Sansa: Cool. Well, that’s all in the past now. I guess we just wait here until we go to the Vale, huh?
Eight days later…
Lysa: It’s me!
Lysa Arryn and her entourage shows up to Littlefinger’s sheep shit village.
Sansa: Oh shit. My crazy-ass aunt! Geez. Isn’t she younger than my mom? How come she looks 15 years older?
Lysa: Oh Petyr! PETYR!
She runs up and starts kissing and groping Littlefinger.
Littlefinger: Whoa, calm down babe. And let me introduce you to my bastard daughter, Alayne Stone.
Lysa pulls out a switch blade and starts pointing it at every female around her.
Lysa: Bastard daughter? You had sex with another woman? WHERE?! I’LL KILL HER! I’LL KILL HER! I’LL GUT HER LIKE FISH!
Littlefinger: Calm down, Lysa. You know that you’re the only woman for me. Why would I be interested in another woman when I have you now? We should, like, get married pretty soon.
Lysa: YES! YES! I MUST HAVE YOU TONIGHT! RIDE ME, COWBOY! RIDE ME HARD!
Littlefinger: Well, let’s wait until I get married.
Lysa: Then let’s get married NOW!
Littlefinger: Uh, we should wait until we get back to the Vale. So that we can have a large, public ceremony in front of everyone.
Lysa: NO! I CAN’T WAIT THAT LONG! I AM MENTALLY UNSTABLE! MARRY ME NOW SO WE CAN DO THE NASTY TONIGHT!
Littlefinger: Well, I mean nothing will prevent us from doing the nasty tonight anyway, even if we’re not married. Right? I mean we did it in the past.
Littlefinger shakes his head as if he’s disgusted.
Littlefinger: But… if you insist…
And so they get married. Right there. An impromptu wedding festival happens. At the festival, a very drunk Marillion comes up to Sansa.
Marillion: Hey gurl. Let’s have sex.
Sansa: Eww. Gross. No. I have no idea who you are.
Marillion: HEY! I’m an important character! I know I haven’t been seen since A Game of Thrones… but I was pretty notable in that book. I’m the singer, Marillion!
Sansa: Never heard of you.
Marillion: I was in the Crossroads Inn when both your mom, Cat, and your future husband, Tyrion, crossed paths there. She had him arrested and brought here to the Vale. I followed the group as a singer, and made songs about the whole journey.
Sansa: Oh. I vaguely remember you. Didn’t you leave the vale with Tyrion or something and come to Kings Landing? Then you were singing bawdy songs about how the Lannisters were involved in King Robert’s death and Ser Ilyn Payne cut your tongue out? I remember that. Joffrey was all “Your fingers or your tongue?”
Marillion: No, that was just in the TV show. In the books that was a different, unnamed singer who you saw stand before Joffrey. In the books I just stayed in the Vale and became one of Lysa’s favorites. I sexually harass all the women in the Value and then the WOMEN get in trouble because I kiss Lysa’s ass and tell her how beautiful she is. She’s totally in love with me and I could get away with murder. So anyway, let’s have sex.
Sansa: No, get away from me, creeper.
Marillion: Well, in addition to getting away with murder I can also get away with rape. So I guess I’m just going to do that to you.
Sansa: OH GOD… WHEN WILL IT END?! WHEN WILL MY CHARACTER STOP BEING ABUSED?!
Marillion starts to run after her, but then Littlefinger’s buddy Lothar Brune shows up.
Lothar: Is this asshole bothering you, Sansa? Remember how I crossbowed Dontos for you? I can do the same to this guy.
Marillion: AGH!!!
He starts to run away.
Sansa: No, it’s okay. You don’t need to kill him. But thanks for saving me.
Lothar: No problem.
Sansa heads to bed that night, and again has nightmares. Of course, she’s also woken up by really loud sounds.
Lysa: OH YES! PETYR! PETYR! YES! YES! STICK IT IN ALL MY HOLES! YES! LETS MAKE A BABY TONIGHT! YES! HARDER! HARDER! HARDER! NOW GO ASS TO MOUTH! YES! MMM!!!!
Sansa: Oh Jesus.
Sansa stuffs a pillow over her head to block out all the screaming.
The next dawn comes and she gets up, having had a miserable night with barely any sleep at all.
Littlefinger: Ah, “Alayne,” there you are. Hope you had a good night.
Sansa: I did not.
Littlefinger: Oh, by the way… I told Lysa the truth about who you are. I let her know that you’re really Cat’s daughter, and that’s why you should come with us to the Vale for protection. But this has to be a secret between just a few people, okay? Most people must not know!
Sansa: Well I’m glad you had some time to have some conversation last night inbetween all that loud sex that will give me even MORE horrible nightmares. That will never leave my head.
Lysa shows up.
Lysa: Ah, there you are. I should have known you were Cat’s daughter. You look just like her.
Littlefinger: I know. So fucking hot, right? Sooooooo hot!
Lysa's eye twitches, but she keeps smiling and acts like Littlefinger didn't say a thing.
Littlefinger: Uhm. I… er… just remember I had some preparations to make for our departure. Will you excuse me?
He leaves.
Lysa: We will, of course, have to darken your hair so you don’t look like Cat anymore. People will start to talk.
Sansa: Eww. Do I have to?
Lysa: YES! Ah, I’m so glad that I’m finally wed to my beloved Petyr! I’ve waited my whole life for this. It was him that I was always meant to be with. It was him that I’ve always loved! I was forced to marry that disgusting shithead Jon Arryn. Well now he’s dead and Petyr is mine. So… speaking about unwanted marriages… are you a maiden, flowered yet?
Sansa: Gross. Why does everybody want to know if I’ve had my period yet?
Lysa: Because I mean to marry you to my son, Lord Robert.
Sansa: I’m sort of already married. Athough my husband never really had sex with me. He liked the whores instead.
Lysa: True. But you’ll be a widow soon enough. That Imp will soon be dead. It should have been me that did it! Your stupid mother should have never brought him here! I should have never listed to her! She brought nothing but misery and despair and she stole our uncle, the Blackfish, from me! That fucking cunt! I hate her!
Sansa: Thanks for talking about MY RECENTLY MURDERED MOTHER like that. It’s not a sore spot or anything.
Lysa: It matters not! You’ll be wed in secret to my Robert as soon as the Imp dies. Robert will grow to be a great man, you’ll see! Until then you can read to him, play games with him, change his diapers, and give him his daily doses of Ritalin, Lithium, Valproate, and Thorazine.
Sansa: You mean Chlorpromazine?
Lysa: What?
Sansa: Thorazine is a name brand used for marketing. The actual name of the drug is Chlorpromazine.
Lysa: Whatever.
Sansa: That’s a lot of mood stabilizers. This Robert kid must have problems.
Lysa: NO! HE’S PERFECT! PERFECT AND HEALTHY AND STRONG! He just needs those to help him a little. Oh, also he needs Brivaracetam and Valium for his seizures.
Sansa: Diazepam.
Lysa: WHAT?
Sansa: Trade name again. Valium is just Diazepam.
Lysa: He also needs benzonatate for his coughs, Hydrocodone for his back pain, Simvastatin for his cholesterol, an HCTZ-Lisinopril combo for his blood pressure, Levothyroxine sodium for his hypothyroidism, Omeprazole for his major gastric problems, Metformin for his diabetes, Aripiprazole for his psychotic delusions, Albuterol for his short-term asthma rescue, a cocktail of various Corticosteroids for his long-term asthma control, as well as Flintstone Vitamins and Somatotropin Human Growth Hormone so that he keeps growing to be a big, strong man!
Sansa: This kid is on more shit than Demi Lovato.
Lysa: Remember though! When you play games with him… you must always let him win! He is the Lord of the Eyrie, after all. You must never forget your place. He is the superior man and you are the inferior woman! Property for him to own! You will obey his every word and be his obedient slave! Sure, the Starks of Winterfell USED to be a powerful house and you have pride. But you must throw away that pride because the Starks are all DEAD and WORTHLESS now. Winterfell is in ruins and you are a fucking filthy beggar, just like I always knew my cunt sister and her children would become. SCUM. SCUM that is lucky to be offered to marry my wonderful, perfect son.
Sansa: Well, this sounds like it’s going to be a lot of fun. Maybe I should just go back to Kings Landing and get executed instead.
Sansa: *vomits everywhere*
See?
Anyway, she has dreams about Joffrey’s death. Which is actually pretty cool. So it’s not at all a nightmare.
Littlefinger walks in on her, like a creeper.
Littlefinger: Oh, hey girl. Trying to sleep, huh? Cool. I was just staring at you.
Sansa: Gross. Anyway, I keep having dreams about Joffrey’s death. I wonder if my “husband” Tyrion was really behind it all.
Littlefinger: Oh, Tyrion’s hands are far from clean. After all, he sticks them inside of pox-infested whores all the time. Hey, speaking of your husband and whores… did you know that he was married once before? Yeah. And once he got bored of her, he had her passed around to a bunch of Lannister guards and watched as they ran a train on her. He probably meant to do the same to you, one day.
Sansa: Well, that seems like somewhat of a distortion of facts, but then again I am talking to you, Littlefinger. So that’s just par for the course.
Littlefinger: Harsh, but fair. Anyway… LAND HO! We’re finally arriving home!
Sansa gets up and looks out.
Sansa: Well, that’s not Winterfell.
Littlefinger: No, it’s the Fingers. It’s MY home!
Sansa: When you said you were taking me “home,” you were clearly deceiving me.
Littlefinger: True. I’m taking you to the Vale. I’m going to marry your Aunt Lysa.
Sansa: Ugh.
Littlefinger: But first we stop by where I grew up! HERE!
They get off the ship. They are on some poor farmland, surrounded by huts and sheep shit.
Sansa: Nasty. This is where you’re from?
Littlefinger: Yep. Not exactly the pinnacle of civilization, but then again it’s far away from Varys’s spies. Here you will be safe until we continue onward to the Vale. Oh, and by the way… when I show up to the Vale, Kings Landing won’t exactly be happy that I have Sansa Stark with me. So we need to give you a new identity.
Sansa: Can I be Jean Grey from X-Men?
Littlefinger: No.
Sansa: Damn.
Littlefinger and Sansa are greeted by a bunch of people who are Littlefinger’s household staff. Do you need to remember them? No. You will never see any of them ever again. So why bother?
Bryen: Hey!
Grisel: Yeah, that’s no fair.
Kella: Yeah, you think our role in this chapter would at least be covered a little.
Nope.
Littlefinger: Here Sansa, have some wine. And you probably need a bath. Let me watch you bathe.
Sansa: No thanks. I know you’re trying to get me drunk, you pedo.
Littelfinger: Pedo? No! No! Of course not. I’m like a father figure to you. In fact, that will be your new identity. You will pretend to be my bastard daughter, Alayne Stone. I’ll name you after my mom.
Sansa: So I’m a “daughter” figure to you, and yet you want to name me after your mom and have sex with me. Dude, you really need to see a psychologist. Big time.
Littlefinger: Look. Just remember your damn new name.
Sansa: “Alayne Stone.”
Littlefinger: Yes. Yes. Good. I think you’ll be a good player in this game. A better player than your father, at least.
Sansa: Game?
Littlefinger: Yes! The Game of Th—
Sansa lunges over the table and stops Baelish from saying it.
Sansa: Please don’t actually say it. I’m tired of that recurring Pee-Wee joke. It’s just not funny. Recurring jokes where someone says a key word and then an action happens in response to that key word are just not funny. I don’t know why we keep doing those jokes.
Suddenly, green slime falls all over Sansa because she said “I Don’t Know.”
Sansa: Really? REALLY? A You Can’t Do That on Television joke? How many people are going to get that one?
Littlefinger: My point is, there are two types of people in the Game of Th—ermm… nevermind, but there are two types of people. Players and pieces.
Sansa: You trying to say I’m a piece.
Littlefinger: Mmm mmm gurl, you are a piece, that’s for sure. A piece of ayass!
Sansa: *blinks without emotion*
Littlefinger: But I mean to make you into a player. Or a playa, really. Like me. Don’t be offended by being a piece. We all start off as pieces. Some people who think they are players are actually still pieces. Take Cersei, for example. This whole time she thinks she was in control. But you know what she is? Utterly predictable. She craves power but wouldn’t know what to do with it if she got it.
Sansa: So what are you trying to tell me, Mr. “Player?” Are you responsible for Dontos poisoning Joffrey?
Littlefinger: Haha, Dontos didn’t do shit. He was never left with such an important task.
Just then, Oswell shows up. Remember him from the last Sansa chapter?
Sansa: Sort of, but not really.
She said he looked sort of familiar.
Sansa: Oh, right. Hey Oswell. You look sort of familiar.
Oswell: Yes. My name is Oswell… Oswell Kettleblack.
Sansa: Ah, I see. Like all those other Kettleblacks that are loyal to Cersei. HEY! Wait a minute…
Littlefinger: Hahah, you see what I mean about Cersei thinking that she’s a player? Those Kettleblacks that are so “loyal” to her… they really work for me!
Sansa: So did they poison Joffrey?
Littlefinger: No. Ask yourself… where did the poison come from?
Sansa: My hairnet?
Littlefinger: Right! And did anyone touch your hairnet or tussle with it in the minutes prior to Joffrey’s death?
Sansa: No, only Lady Olenna who was fixing my hair, but she--- OH CRAP! THE QUEEN OF THORNES?!
Littlefinger: Yeup.
Sansa: That lady is BAD-ASS!
Littlefinger: True. Remember… it was I that was sent by the Lannisters to make peace between Joffrey and the Tyrells! It was I that returned with Renly and the Tyrell armies for the Battle of the Blackwater, and I that led the discussions about a marriage contract between Margaery Tyrell and Joffrey. So what did I do when they asked what kind of a person Joffrey was? I told them the truth and they were horrified. They knew what Loras would do once Joffrey beat his sister. He’d kill Joffrey. Which is the result that everyone wanted anyway. But what if we could get Joffrey out of the way and have Margaery marry Tommen instead? The cute, innocent, docile boy? Everyone would get what they want! The Tyrells get Margaery married to the king and she becomes a queen, she doesn’t get beaten or abused… the whole kingdom gets rid of a shitty, tyrant, and I get to piss off Cersei and continue to fuck around and manipulate people. Chaos is an Escalator.
Sansa: Cool. Well, that’s all in the past now. I guess we just wait here until we go to the Vale, huh?
Eight days later…
Lysa: It’s me!
Lysa Arryn and her entourage shows up to Littlefinger’s sheep shit village.
Sansa: Oh shit. My crazy-ass aunt! Geez. Isn’t she younger than my mom? How come she looks 15 years older?
Lysa: Oh Petyr! PETYR!
She runs up and starts kissing and groping Littlefinger.
Littlefinger: Whoa, calm down babe. And let me introduce you to my bastard daughter, Alayne Stone.
Lysa pulls out a switch blade and starts pointing it at every female around her.
Lysa: Bastard daughter? You had sex with another woman? WHERE?! I’LL KILL HER! I’LL KILL HER! I’LL GUT HER LIKE FISH!
Littlefinger: Calm down, Lysa. You know that you’re the only woman for me. Why would I be interested in another woman when I have you now? We should, like, get married pretty soon.
Lysa: YES! YES! I MUST HAVE YOU TONIGHT! RIDE ME, COWBOY! RIDE ME HARD!
Littlefinger: Well, let’s wait until I get married.
Lysa: Then let’s get married NOW!
Littlefinger: Uh, we should wait until we get back to the Vale. So that we can have a large, public ceremony in front of everyone.
Lysa: NO! I CAN’T WAIT THAT LONG! I AM MENTALLY UNSTABLE! MARRY ME NOW SO WE CAN DO THE NASTY TONIGHT!
Littlefinger: Well, I mean nothing will prevent us from doing the nasty tonight anyway, even if we’re not married. Right? I mean we did it in the past.
Littlefinger shakes his head as if he’s disgusted.
Littlefinger: But… if you insist…
And so they get married. Right there. An impromptu wedding festival happens. At the festival, a very drunk Marillion comes up to Sansa.
Marillion: Hey gurl. Let’s have sex.
Sansa: Eww. Gross. No. I have no idea who you are.
Marillion: HEY! I’m an important character! I know I haven’t been seen since A Game of Thrones… but I was pretty notable in that book. I’m the singer, Marillion!
Sansa: Never heard of you.
Marillion: I was in the Crossroads Inn when both your mom, Cat, and your future husband, Tyrion, crossed paths there. She had him arrested and brought here to the Vale. I followed the group as a singer, and made songs about the whole journey.
Sansa: Oh. I vaguely remember you. Didn’t you leave the vale with Tyrion or something and come to Kings Landing? Then you were singing bawdy songs about how the Lannisters were involved in King Robert’s death and Ser Ilyn Payne cut your tongue out? I remember that. Joffrey was all “Your fingers or your tongue?”
Marillion: No, that was just in the TV show. In the books that was a different, unnamed singer who you saw stand before Joffrey. In the books I just stayed in the Vale and became one of Lysa’s favorites. I sexually harass all the women in the Value and then the WOMEN get in trouble because I kiss Lysa’s ass and tell her how beautiful she is. She’s totally in love with me and I could get away with murder. So anyway, let’s have sex.
Sansa: No, get away from me, creeper.
Marillion: Well, in addition to getting away with murder I can also get away with rape. So I guess I’m just going to do that to you.
Sansa: OH GOD… WHEN WILL IT END?! WHEN WILL MY CHARACTER STOP BEING ABUSED?!
Marillion starts to run after her, but then Littlefinger’s buddy Lothar Brune shows up.
Lothar: Is this asshole bothering you, Sansa? Remember how I crossbowed Dontos for you? I can do the same to this guy.
Marillion: AGH!!!
He starts to run away.
Sansa: No, it’s okay. You don’t need to kill him. But thanks for saving me.
Lothar: No problem.
Sansa heads to bed that night, and again has nightmares. Of course, she’s also woken up by really loud sounds.
Lysa: OH YES! PETYR! PETYR! YES! YES! STICK IT IN ALL MY HOLES! YES! LETS MAKE A BABY TONIGHT! YES! HARDER! HARDER! HARDER! NOW GO ASS TO MOUTH! YES! MMM!!!!
Sansa: Oh Jesus.
Sansa stuffs a pillow over her head to block out all the screaming.
The next dawn comes and she gets up, having had a miserable night with barely any sleep at all.
Littlefinger: Ah, “Alayne,” there you are. Hope you had a good night.
Sansa: I did not.
Littlefinger: Oh, by the way… I told Lysa the truth about who you are. I let her know that you’re really Cat’s daughter, and that’s why you should come with us to the Vale for protection. But this has to be a secret between just a few people, okay? Most people must not know!
Sansa: Well I’m glad you had some time to have some conversation last night inbetween all that loud sex that will give me even MORE horrible nightmares. That will never leave my head.
Lysa shows up.
Lysa: Ah, there you are. I should have known you were Cat’s daughter. You look just like her.
Littlefinger: I know. So fucking hot, right? Sooooooo hot!
Lysa's eye twitches, but she keeps smiling and acts like Littlefinger didn't say a thing.
Littlefinger: Uhm. I… er… just remember I had some preparations to make for our departure. Will you excuse me?
He leaves.
Lysa: We will, of course, have to darken your hair so you don’t look like Cat anymore. People will start to talk.
Sansa: Eww. Do I have to?
Lysa: YES! Ah, I’m so glad that I’m finally wed to my beloved Petyr! I’ve waited my whole life for this. It was him that I was always meant to be with. It was him that I’ve always loved! I was forced to marry that disgusting shithead Jon Arryn. Well now he’s dead and Petyr is mine. So… speaking about unwanted marriages… are you a maiden, flowered yet?
Sansa: Gross. Why does everybody want to know if I’ve had my period yet?
Lysa: Because I mean to marry you to my son, Lord Robert.
Sansa: I’m sort of already married. Athough my husband never really had sex with me. He liked the whores instead.
Lysa: True. But you’ll be a widow soon enough. That Imp will soon be dead. It should have been me that did it! Your stupid mother should have never brought him here! I should have never listed to her! She brought nothing but misery and despair and she stole our uncle, the Blackfish, from me! That fucking cunt! I hate her!
Sansa: Thanks for talking about MY RECENTLY MURDERED MOTHER like that. It’s not a sore spot or anything.
Lysa: It matters not! You’ll be wed in secret to my Robert as soon as the Imp dies. Robert will grow to be a great man, you’ll see! Until then you can read to him, play games with him, change his diapers, and give him his daily doses of Ritalin, Lithium, Valproate, and Thorazine.
Sansa: You mean Chlorpromazine?
Lysa: What?
Sansa: Thorazine is a name brand used for marketing. The actual name of the drug is Chlorpromazine.
Lysa: Whatever.
Sansa: That’s a lot of mood stabilizers. This Robert kid must have problems.
Lysa: NO! HE’S PERFECT! PERFECT AND HEALTHY AND STRONG! He just needs those to help him a little. Oh, also he needs Brivaracetam and Valium for his seizures.
Sansa: Diazepam.
Lysa: WHAT?
Sansa: Trade name again. Valium is just Diazepam.
Lysa: He also needs benzonatate for his coughs, Hydrocodone for his back pain, Simvastatin for his cholesterol, an HCTZ-Lisinopril combo for his blood pressure, Levothyroxine sodium for his hypothyroidism, Omeprazole for his major gastric problems, Metformin for his diabetes, Aripiprazole for his psychotic delusions, Albuterol for his short-term asthma rescue, a cocktail of various Corticosteroids for his long-term asthma control, as well as Flintstone Vitamins and Somatotropin Human Growth Hormone so that he keeps growing to be a big, strong man!
Sansa: This kid is on more shit than Demi Lovato.
Lysa: Remember though! When you play games with him… you must always let him win! He is the Lord of the Eyrie, after all. You must never forget your place. He is the superior man and you are the inferior woman! Property for him to own! You will obey his every word and be his obedient slave! Sure, the Starks of Winterfell USED to be a powerful house and you have pride. But you must throw away that pride because the Starks are all DEAD and WORTHLESS now. Winterfell is in ruins and you are a fucking filthy beggar, just like I always knew my cunt sister and her children would become. SCUM. SCUM that is lucky to be offered to marry my wonderful, perfect son.
Sansa: Well, this sounds like it’s going to be a lot of fun. Maybe I should just go back to Kings Landing and get executed instead.
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