“Alayne” is living in a pimped out room in the Maiden’s Tower of the Eyrie now, and is wearing all of Lysa’s clothes.
Alayne: This is super weird. Not just because she’s my crazy aunt. But because she also tried to kill me and we had to murder her and frame it on a singer.
She looks out the window of her room and sees the Gates of the Moon in the distance, with the armies of the six Lords Declarant there.
Alayne: Hrm, perhaps the narrator should provide a little more info than just “Lords Declarant,” so that we can have some backstory as to what has happened between my last POV chapter and now.
Ah, well. Six Lords of the Vale – Broze Yohn “Where is My Son” Royce, Gilwood Hunter, Anya Waynwood, Horton Redfort, Symond Templeton, and Benedar Belmore have all gathered, each with a force of about 1000 men (that’s 6000 total, for those keeping count at home). They are the Lords “Declarant” because they have made a declaration for support of Lord Robert Arryn and the need to send the “misrule” of “false friends and evil counselors” who have taken control of him.
Alayne: Oh yeah, that means this group of 6 Lords have gathered together with a bunch of soldiers to depose Petyr Baelish because they don’t trust him. Which is honestly a pretty sensible thing.
Alayne then goes down to breakfast.
Alayne: I just want lemon cakes for breakfast. I FREAKING LOVE LEMON CAKES!!!!
Robert: What I want to have is my mommy’s breast milk. But since I can’t have that… I’ll have a ham and eggs with toast. Whole grain, preferably with some clotted butter and strawberry jam. A glass of orange juice and… oh… silly me! I never said how I wanted the eggs! What a total goofball I am! You know they say it’s dangerous when the eggs aren’t cooked all the way through, but I think I’m going to live a little, you know? Mom would never let me, but since she’s gone why not? The chances of getting some bacteria are really pretty low. So I’ll have the eggs sunny side up! No! NO! STOP! WAIT! That’s perhaps living too dangerously. I don’t want to go all-in crazy like that. How about I just get them over easy. Then they’ll still have a bit of a bloody yolk, but the white will definitely be cooked-through on both sides. OH! And make sure my phone is ready. I want to take a video as I cut the egg open and the yolk comes out. Then I’ll Instagram it! And I command everyone in the castle to like and repost my picture. OH! And can I turn the orange juice to grapefruit juice? Or even better… a 50/50 mix?
Maester Colemon, Wearing a Fancy White Cook Hat: Uhh… we have a can of Vienna sausages and some Wonder bread. And a little bit of Lysa’s old refrigerated breast milk but it’s mostly gone bad. No eggs. No ham. No lemon cakes. That’s it.
Robert: HUH?
Colemon: The Lords Declarant have been sieging the gate for some time and we’re running out of supplies. It’s a blockade.
Alayne: DAMNIT! That’s right! I forgot.
Robert: I WANT MY FOOD! AGGHHHH!!!!!!
Alayne: Okay, calm down. Calm down, sweet Robert before you have another seizure.
Robert: AND SOMEONE SHUT THAT DAMN SINGER UP! I COULD HEAR HIM AGAIN LAST NIGHT!
Alayne goes in to hug him and pat his head.
Alayne: No, no you didn’t. The singer is dead now, Robert. Just calm down. Calm. Calm. There. See? The Singer walked out of the Moon Door and everything is better!
The doors then burst open and Petyr walks in to the dining room.
Littlefinger: Well, the Lords Declarant are coming up, along with Nestor Royce and Ser Lyn Corbray.
Alayne: Who the fuck is Lyn Corbray? That sounds like some alias of Zartan that he'd have in some Cobra Command plot to blow up the Chunnel or something.
Littlefinger: Ah, sometimes you remind me of your mother so much. That sounds like the type of thing that she would say.
Alayne: Honestly, I'm more impressed that the blog writer recalled that joke that he made in October of 2017 and remembered to reference/link it. No... wait... I think that name is familiar though. Isn’t that Corbray guy on our side? It’s hard to keep track of all these characters.
Littlefinger: No, his brother – LYONEL Corbray is on our side, but Lyn is with the Lords Declarant. He was a rival to me and wanted Lysa’s hand in marriage for himself. But that's about all of Lysa he wanted, if you know what I mean.
Alayne: I do not.
Robert: NOOOOO!!!!! I don’t want those stupid, smelly lords to come! I hate them! MAKE THEM GO AWAY! AGHH!!!! I DON’T WANT THEM HERE! ESPECIALLY NOT SER LYN CORBRAY! AGHHH!!!!!!
He begins throwing a fit and this timeSansa Alayne can’t do anything to stop it.
Littlefinger: Ugh. Maester Colemon, perhaps you should begin adding a pinch of Sweetsleep into Robert’s milk to calm him?
Colemon: Dude, you think I haven’t been already? I’ve been upping the dosage on this little fuck a little bit every month since he was two. He’s probably takes enough Sweetsleep now to tranquilize a horse.
Coleman picks up Robert and drags him away, leaving Littlefinger and Alayne alone.
Alayne: Uh oh.
Littlefinger: Come on and give your father a kiss, Alayne.
Alayne gives him a light peck on the cheek.
Littlefinger: Hrm. A very “dutiful” kiss.
Alayne: YEAH. Like the one that a DAUGHTER gives to a FATHER. And speaking of that… do you really think that the Lords Declarant are going to believe I’m your daughter?
Littlefinger: Why wouldn’t they?
Alayne: I’ve bet Bronce Yohn before! Remember? It was at the tournament to my father in Kings Landing! The same one where you were SUPER CREEPY to me.
Littlefinger: Hrm. Yes. That sort of rings a bell. But believe me, he will not recognize you. He saw you once at a tournament where you were a little girl with red hair. Now you are a WOMAN. And quite a hot, sexy adult woman, I might say. With black hair! The dye will fool him surely.
Alayne: Yikes. I’m not even sure in Alabama I’m legally a woman yet, and the south has some pretty messed up age of consent laws.
Littlefinger: Anyway, did you have a point or something?
Alayne: I’m scared! What if the Lords Declarant win or something? I guess we can always flee to Harrenhal, right?
Littlefinger: Ugh. I want nothing to do with Harrenhal. The title as Lord of those ruins was just a stepping stone. Besides, Harrenhal is cursed and everyone who has been Lord of it has met horrible fates.
Alayne: Maybe you should give it to Lord Frey then.
Littlefinger: HAHAHA! Good one! Good one there, Alayne. Because he murdered your mom and brother. I get it. Hahaha. Yes. While we’re speaking of people we’d like to get out of the way… perhaps we should give it to Cersei Lannister instead. We have been playing the game of thrones with her, but I think maybe it’s time to remove her from the game a little early. Although at the rate she’s been fucking up recently, she might do it hersel—
--Alarms start flashing and horns sound. Chairry, Magic Screen, Pterri, Mr. Window, Clockey, Conky 2000 and all the others start shouting wildly and flailing their arms/wings/seat cushions/whatever they have around. The text "Game of Thrones" flashes again and again.
Alayne: Damnit, Littlefinger. YOU KEEP SAYING THAT!
Cowboy Curtis: He just said the Secret Word!
Pee-Wee: HEH-HEH!!
And as quickly as they all appeared, they all vanish right back out of the dining room door.
Later, the Lords arrive to the big, important hall and Alayne is there to serve them wine.
Littlefinger: Ah, Lords! Welcome! This is my daughter, Alayne.
Yohn Royce: Hrm. She looks a little bit famil—
Benedar Belmore: --DAYUM! Look at that hot little girly! I’d tap that!
Lyn Corbray: Hahaha, me too! I wonder if she’s had her cherry popped yet! Little pretty bastard girl like that. Mmm! Her hair is too long though. Maybe if we cut it shorter. A LOT shorter, I mean. Like Natalie Portman in V for Vendetta.
Lady Waynwood: You guys are fucking disgusting.
Lyn Corbray: SHUT YOUR MOUTH! You’re just jealous because you’re ugly. Don’t make me slap you in the--
Littlefinger: --Yes. Yes. Settle down, everyone. She is quite hot… I… uh… I mean HEY! Stop talking about my daughter like that while I’m standing right here!
And with grown, adult men talking about sexually assaulting a girl who just had her first period not that long ago… Yohn Royce is easily distracted and forgets all about the fact that he thought Alayne looked familiar.
Yohn: What was I talking about? Probably my son, Waymar. I miss him so much. WAYMAR, WHERE ARE YOU?! I wish that they’d just send word back from the Wall on what happened to my son!
Littlefinger: Perhaps this hall is too formal a place for the intimate conversations we must have. Please, let Alayne lead you all into the solar so we can discuss important business.
Alayne leads them in and they get to business.
Littlefinger: So I saw this declaration you all made and I TOTALLY AGREE!!!
Yohn Royce: Uhh… what?
Littlefinger: Yes. You talked of weeding out the “misrule” of “false friends and evil counselors” who are betraying Lord Robert. I am totally with you guys on this one. Let’s find out who these false friends and evil counselors are and get rid of them! Is it too late for the Six Lords Declarant to become the Seven Lords Declarant? I’d like to sign the declaration too.
The Lords Declarant then all look at each other, totally confused. Yohn finally responds.
Yohn: Dude, we were talking about YOU.
Littlefinger: Me? ME? Why, there must be some mistake.
Yohn: Our demands are simple. You must step down as Lord Protector and leave the Vale. Then we six shall share fostership over Lord Robert if he… uhh… of course I mean “until he” comes of age.
Littlefinger: I don’t know why you don’t trust me! Someone must be feeding you lies. Lady Lysa married me and named me as Lord Protector.
Yohn: The Vale belongs to the Arryns. Lady Lysa was a Tully. Her own claim to rule over her son itself was feeble.
Littlefinger: You have no right to get rid of me. And how exactly do you plan to share fostership over Lord Robert between the six of you? Do you mean to send him from town-to-town to take turns under all of you?
Yohn: Yeah, pretty much.
Littlefinger: The poor boy! Don’t you see how sickly and frail he is? Do you think he can survive all that travel? No! You all seem to be looking out for YOURSELVES and YOUR OWN POWER AND INFLUENCE. I only want what’s best for my dear Robert, who is like a son to me ever since I married Lysa.
Redfort: WE SHALL HAVE THE BOY!
Littlefinger: It sounds like you are being the aggressors here, seizing power. Not me. You mean to make war when there is peace?
Yohn: Perhaps we do.
Littlefinger: And what of when the crown finds out about this? They support my claim.
Lyn Corbray pulls out his sword.
Ser Lyn: ENOUGH! This Littlefinger will talk all of you idiots all out of your smallclothes! He’s making US look like the bad guys and him look like the good guy! It’s CRAZY! He’s a master manipulator! Cold steel will settle who the Lord Protector of the Vale is, not words!
The Lords Declarant around him gasp in horror.
Lady Waynwood: *GASP* Put that fucking sword down, Corbray! Are you some sort of filthy animal?
Symond Templeton: We are here under GUEST’S RIGHTS! We broke bread and wined with Baelish!
Gilwood: Right! You’re a fool, Corbray! Do you mean to dishonor us like we’re some filthy Freys that would murder people after breaking bread?
Ser Lyn: You’re all a bunch of STUPID FUCKING PUSSIES! You’re going to let him win!
He puts his sword back away and storms out.
Horton: Lord Protector Baelish, our apologies! That… that man does not speak for us!
Littlefinger: Hrm. Does he not? You all came together. I met with you and said I wanted to sign your declaration. I said I was on your side and that I supposed you. Then you threaten war with me and pull a sword out to kill me after we have broken bread? In front of all these witnesses! Technically, I have the legal right now to throw you all in prison for such an insult.
They sit there silently.
Littlefinger: But you know what? I won’t! Why? Because I’m not the bad guy here. I really, really do support your plan to end the misrule here. Do I deny that things are pretty fucked up here? No, of course not. I mean Lysa was ruling this place ever since Lord Arryn died. And while, yeah, I loved my wife… let’s go ahead and be honest. She had a few loose screws in her head.
Gilwood: A few?
Lady Waynwood: That lady was nuttier than a Payday candy bar.
Horton: She breastfed a boy who is almost a damned teenager! They crazy bitchy was cuckoo for cocoa puffs.
Littlefinger: Indeed. Quite. She was mad as a hatter and stuff went to shit. You know that. I know that. Everybody knows that. They knew that back in Kings Landing, which is why they sent me to marry her and try to help her get her shit in order. You know why? Because they knew me in Kings Landing. I was master of coin of the ENTIRE REALM. I served a king and was able to bring order and stability despite his really fucked up financial strategies that were constantly plunging the kingdom into debt. You all loved Lord Arryn, just as I did. Lord Arryn and I were the only ones on the Small Council that kept the Kingdom from total fucking anarchy. So instead of calling me a “false friend” or an “evil counselor,” and waging a costly, blood civil war in the Vale… how about I propose a counter offer? One year. That’s all I’m asking you. Give me ONE YEAR to turn things around and end the “misrule” now that Lysa is dead. If you are satisfied with what I have done, then all is good and there will be no punishment for you making this declaration against me and coming here to threaten rebellion to me under guest right. And if one year from now you think things are still messed up and DON’T support me? I’ll leave. I won’t fight. I won’t launch any reprisals.
The Lords Declarant look at each other and start murmuring.
Gilwood: No reprisals?
Littlefinger: None.
Symond: And you’ll just leave in one year if we’re not satisfied with the job you’ve done? Just like that? We take your word that you’ll leave?
Littlefinger: My word or whatever. If you’d like to write it down in a contract, I’ll be happy to sign that!
They continue to talk and murmur. They all seem on the same page, except for Brone Yohn who just roles his eyes and throws his hands in the air. He doesn’t object though.
Lady Waynwood: Then it’s a deal, Littlefinger! We’ll give you a year to make things right again in the Vale, and if we’re not happy you’re out!
Littlefinger: YES! It’s a deal!
They all shake on it and the Lords Declarant depart the solar. Bronze Yohn is the last to leave. Before he heads out the door, he turns and gives a slow clap to Littlefinger.
Yohn: Well… fucking… played, Littlefinger. Well played, indeed. But just know… not all of us are fucking idiots. I see what you did there. Don’t think I didn’t see what you did there.
Yohn points his fingers at his two eyes and then to Littlefinger’s eyes, and then back to his own eyes and then back to Littlefinger’s eyes.
Yohn: Yeah… I’ll be watching you, Baelish.
He leaves. Probably out to look for his dead son. Who is, and always will be, still dead since the very first prologue of the first book.
Alayne: HOLY SHIT, LITTLEFINGER! YOU ARE LIKE A WITCH THAT ENCHANTED THEM!
Littlefinger: Yes, I am pretty awesome.
Alayne: But… what… what will you do next year when they comeback? Let’s be honest, this place is a HUGE SHIT SHOW and I really doubt you can turn it around.
Littlefinger: Oh come on. A year? A year is AGES from now. A year from now half of those lords might be dead and the other half will be bought. Bronze Yohn though, he’ll be the stickler. But alone he will pose no threat.
Alayne: And what about Ser Lyn? He really seems to want you dead.
Littlefinger: Yes, he does. He’ll join every last plot there is to get rid of me. But I know something he wants even more than to see me dead. Ser Lyn is a man of simple tastes. He likes gold and boys and killing. I shall give him those things.
Alayne: Ah, okay. I see. So I guess that… waaaaaaittt… what the fuck did you just say? You said he likes boys? You’re going to give him boys?
Littlefinger: You heard me.
Alayne: What the HELL? How can you… wait… OH SNAP! Now I understand the line earlier in the chapter where Lord Robert especially called out Ser Lyn as the lord he didn’t want to see.
Littlefinger: Yes. Lyn Corbray is a child-molesting deviant. You really have to read between the lines on that one to figure it out, but it’s all there.
Alayne: And it also explains why he said I'd be hotter if I shaved my dead like Natalie Portman in V for Vendetta.
Littlefinger: Correct. Because then you'd look more like a boy to him.
Alayne: And you’re just as fucked up as him for saying that you’re going to give him boys.
Littlefinger: *shrugs apathetically*
Alayne: This is super weird. Not just because she’s my crazy aunt. But because she also tried to kill me and we had to murder her and frame it on a singer.
She looks out the window of her room and sees the Gates of the Moon in the distance, with the armies of the six Lords Declarant there.
Alayne: Hrm, perhaps the narrator should provide a little more info than just “Lords Declarant,” so that we can have some backstory as to what has happened between my last POV chapter and now.
Ah, well. Six Lords of the Vale – Broze Yohn “Where is My Son” Royce, Gilwood Hunter, Anya Waynwood, Horton Redfort, Symond Templeton, and Benedar Belmore have all gathered, each with a force of about 1000 men (that’s 6000 total, for those keeping count at home). They are the Lords “Declarant” because they have made a declaration for support of Lord Robert Arryn and the need to send the “misrule” of “false friends and evil counselors” who have taken control of him.
Alayne: Oh yeah, that means this group of 6 Lords have gathered together with a bunch of soldiers to depose Petyr Baelish because they don’t trust him. Which is honestly a pretty sensible thing.
Alayne then goes down to breakfast.
Alayne: I just want lemon cakes for breakfast. I FREAKING LOVE LEMON CAKES!!!!
Robert: What I want to have is my mommy’s breast milk. But since I can’t have that… I’ll have a ham and eggs with toast. Whole grain, preferably with some clotted butter and strawberry jam. A glass of orange juice and… oh… silly me! I never said how I wanted the eggs! What a total goofball I am! You know they say it’s dangerous when the eggs aren’t cooked all the way through, but I think I’m going to live a little, you know? Mom would never let me, but since she’s gone why not? The chances of getting some bacteria are really pretty low. So I’ll have the eggs sunny side up! No! NO! STOP! WAIT! That’s perhaps living too dangerously. I don’t want to go all-in crazy like that. How about I just get them over easy. Then they’ll still have a bit of a bloody yolk, but the white will definitely be cooked-through on both sides. OH! And make sure my phone is ready. I want to take a video as I cut the egg open and the yolk comes out. Then I’ll Instagram it! And I command everyone in the castle to like and repost my picture. OH! And can I turn the orange juice to grapefruit juice? Or even better… a 50/50 mix?
Maester Colemon, Wearing a Fancy White Cook Hat: Uhh… we have a can of Vienna sausages and some Wonder bread. And a little bit of Lysa’s old refrigerated breast milk but it’s mostly gone bad. No eggs. No ham. No lemon cakes. That’s it.
Robert: HUH?
Colemon: The Lords Declarant have been sieging the gate for some time and we’re running out of supplies. It’s a blockade.
Alayne: DAMNIT! That’s right! I forgot.
Robert: I WANT MY FOOD! AGGHHHH!!!!!!
Alayne: Okay, calm down. Calm down, sweet Robert before you have another seizure.
Robert: AND SOMEONE SHUT THAT DAMN SINGER UP! I COULD HEAR HIM AGAIN LAST NIGHT!
Alayne goes in to hug him and pat his head.
Alayne: No, no you didn’t. The singer is dead now, Robert. Just calm down. Calm. Calm. There. See? The Singer walked out of the Moon Door and everything is better!
The doors then burst open and Petyr walks in to the dining room.
Littlefinger: Well, the Lords Declarant are coming up, along with Nestor Royce and Ser Lyn Corbray.
Alayne: Who the fuck is Lyn Corbray? That sounds like some alias of Zartan that he'd have in some Cobra Command plot to blow up the Chunnel or something.
Littlefinger: Ah, sometimes you remind me of your mother so much. That sounds like the type of thing that she would say.
Alayne: Honestly, I'm more impressed that the blog writer recalled that joke that he made in October of 2017 and remembered to reference/link it. No... wait... I think that name is familiar though. Isn’t that Corbray guy on our side? It’s hard to keep track of all these characters.
Littlefinger: No, his brother – LYONEL Corbray is on our side, but Lyn is with the Lords Declarant. He was a rival to me and wanted Lysa’s hand in marriage for himself. But that's about all of Lysa he wanted, if you know what I mean.
Alayne: I do not.
Robert: NOOOOO!!!!! I don’t want those stupid, smelly lords to come! I hate them! MAKE THEM GO AWAY! AGHH!!!! I DON’T WANT THEM HERE! ESPECIALLY NOT SER LYN CORBRAY! AGHHH!!!!!!
He begins throwing a fit and this time
Littlefinger: Ugh. Maester Colemon, perhaps you should begin adding a pinch of Sweetsleep into Robert’s milk to calm him?
Colemon: Dude, you think I haven’t been already? I’ve been upping the dosage on this little fuck a little bit every month since he was two. He’s probably takes enough Sweetsleep now to tranquilize a horse.
Coleman picks up Robert and drags him away, leaving Littlefinger and Alayne alone.
Alayne: Uh oh.
Littlefinger: Come on and give your father a kiss, Alayne.
Alayne gives him a light peck on the cheek.
Littlefinger: Hrm. A very “dutiful” kiss.
Alayne: YEAH. Like the one that a DAUGHTER gives to a FATHER. And speaking of that… do you really think that the Lords Declarant are going to believe I’m your daughter?
Littlefinger: Why wouldn’t they?
Alayne: I’ve bet Bronce Yohn before! Remember? It was at the tournament to my father in Kings Landing! The same one where you were SUPER CREEPY to me.
Littlefinger: Hrm. Yes. That sort of rings a bell. But believe me, he will not recognize you. He saw you once at a tournament where you were a little girl with red hair. Now you are a WOMAN. And quite a hot, sexy adult woman, I might say. With black hair! The dye will fool him surely.
Alayne: Yikes. I’m not even sure in Alabama I’m legally a woman yet, and the south has some pretty messed up age of consent laws.
Littlefinger: Anyway, did you have a point or something?
Alayne: I’m scared! What if the Lords Declarant win or something? I guess we can always flee to Harrenhal, right?
Littlefinger: Ugh. I want nothing to do with Harrenhal. The title as Lord of those ruins was just a stepping stone. Besides, Harrenhal is cursed and everyone who has been Lord of it has met horrible fates.
Alayne: Maybe you should give it to Lord Frey then.
Littlefinger: HAHAHA! Good one! Good one there, Alayne. Because he murdered your mom and brother. I get it. Hahaha. Yes. While we’re speaking of people we’d like to get out of the way… perhaps we should give it to Cersei Lannister instead. We have been playing the game of thrones with her, but I think maybe it’s time to remove her from the game a little early. Although at the rate she’s been fucking up recently, she might do it hersel—
--Alarms start flashing and horns sound. Chairry, Magic Screen, Pterri, Mr. Window, Clockey, Conky 2000 and all the others start shouting wildly and flailing their arms/wings/seat cushions/whatever they have around. The text "Game of Thrones" flashes again and again.
Alayne: Damnit, Littlefinger. YOU KEEP SAYING THAT!
Cowboy Curtis: He just said the Secret Word!
Pee-Wee: HEH-HEH!!
And as quickly as they all appeared, they all vanish right back out of the dining room door.
Later, the Lords arrive to the big, important hall and Alayne is there to serve them wine.
Littlefinger: Ah, Lords! Welcome! This is my daughter, Alayne.
Yohn Royce: Hrm. She looks a little bit famil—
Benedar Belmore: --DAYUM! Look at that hot little girly! I’d tap that!
Lyn Corbray: Hahaha, me too! I wonder if she’s had her cherry popped yet! Little pretty bastard girl like that. Mmm! Her hair is too long though. Maybe if we cut it shorter. A LOT shorter, I mean. Like Natalie Portman in V for Vendetta.
Lady Waynwood: You guys are fucking disgusting.
Lyn Corbray: SHUT YOUR MOUTH! You’re just jealous because you’re ugly. Don’t make me slap you in the--
Littlefinger: --Yes. Yes. Settle down, everyone. She is quite hot… I… uh… I mean HEY! Stop talking about my daughter like that while I’m standing right here!
And with grown, adult men talking about sexually assaulting a girl who just had her first period not that long ago… Yohn Royce is easily distracted and forgets all about the fact that he thought Alayne looked familiar.
Yohn: What was I talking about? Probably my son, Waymar. I miss him so much. WAYMAR, WHERE ARE YOU?! I wish that they’d just send word back from the Wall on what happened to my son!
Littlefinger: Perhaps this hall is too formal a place for the intimate conversations we must have. Please, let Alayne lead you all into the solar so we can discuss important business.
Alayne leads them in and they get to business.
Littlefinger: So I saw this declaration you all made and I TOTALLY AGREE!!!
Yohn Royce: Uhh… what?
Littlefinger: Yes. You talked of weeding out the “misrule” of “false friends and evil counselors” who are betraying Lord Robert. I am totally with you guys on this one. Let’s find out who these false friends and evil counselors are and get rid of them! Is it too late for the Six Lords Declarant to become the Seven Lords Declarant? I’d like to sign the declaration too.
The Lords Declarant then all look at each other, totally confused. Yohn finally responds.
Yohn: Dude, we were talking about YOU.
Littlefinger: Me? ME? Why, there must be some mistake.
Yohn: Our demands are simple. You must step down as Lord Protector and leave the Vale. Then we six shall share fostership over Lord Robert if he… uhh… of course I mean “until he” comes of age.
Littlefinger: I don’t know why you don’t trust me! Someone must be feeding you lies. Lady Lysa married me and named me as Lord Protector.
Yohn: The Vale belongs to the Arryns. Lady Lysa was a Tully. Her own claim to rule over her son itself was feeble.
Littlefinger: You have no right to get rid of me. And how exactly do you plan to share fostership over Lord Robert between the six of you? Do you mean to send him from town-to-town to take turns under all of you?
Yohn: Yeah, pretty much.
Littlefinger: The poor boy! Don’t you see how sickly and frail he is? Do you think he can survive all that travel? No! You all seem to be looking out for YOURSELVES and YOUR OWN POWER AND INFLUENCE. I only want what’s best for my dear Robert, who is like a son to me ever since I married Lysa.
Redfort: WE SHALL HAVE THE BOY!
Littlefinger: It sounds like you are being the aggressors here, seizing power. Not me. You mean to make war when there is peace?
Yohn: Perhaps we do.
Littlefinger: And what of when the crown finds out about this? They support my claim.
Lyn Corbray pulls out his sword.
Ser Lyn: ENOUGH! This Littlefinger will talk all of you idiots all out of your smallclothes! He’s making US look like the bad guys and him look like the good guy! It’s CRAZY! He’s a master manipulator! Cold steel will settle who the Lord Protector of the Vale is, not words!
The Lords Declarant around him gasp in horror.
Lady Waynwood: *GASP* Put that fucking sword down, Corbray! Are you some sort of filthy animal?
Symond Templeton: We are here under GUEST’S RIGHTS! We broke bread and wined with Baelish!
Gilwood: Right! You’re a fool, Corbray! Do you mean to dishonor us like we’re some filthy Freys that would murder people after breaking bread?
Ser Lyn: You’re all a bunch of STUPID FUCKING PUSSIES! You’re going to let him win!
He puts his sword back away and storms out.
Horton: Lord Protector Baelish, our apologies! That… that man does not speak for us!
Littlefinger: Hrm. Does he not? You all came together. I met with you and said I wanted to sign your declaration. I said I was on your side and that I supposed you. Then you threaten war with me and pull a sword out to kill me after we have broken bread? In front of all these witnesses! Technically, I have the legal right now to throw you all in prison for such an insult.
They sit there silently.
Littlefinger: But you know what? I won’t! Why? Because I’m not the bad guy here. I really, really do support your plan to end the misrule here. Do I deny that things are pretty fucked up here? No, of course not. I mean Lysa was ruling this place ever since Lord Arryn died. And while, yeah, I loved my wife… let’s go ahead and be honest. She had a few loose screws in her head.
Gilwood: A few?
Lady Waynwood: That lady was nuttier than a Payday candy bar.
Horton: She breastfed a boy who is almost a damned teenager! They crazy bitchy was cuckoo for cocoa puffs.
Littlefinger: Indeed. Quite. She was mad as a hatter and stuff went to shit. You know that. I know that. Everybody knows that. They knew that back in Kings Landing, which is why they sent me to marry her and try to help her get her shit in order. You know why? Because they knew me in Kings Landing. I was master of coin of the ENTIRE REALM. I served a king and was able to bring order and stability despite his really fucked up financial strategies that were constantly plunging the kingdom into debt. You all loved Lord Arryn, just as I did. Lord Arryn and I were the only ones on the Small Council that kept the Kingdom from total fucking anarchy. So instead of calling me a “false friend” or an “evil counselor,” and waging a costly, blood civil war in the Vale… how about I propose a counter offer? One year. That’s all I’m asking you. Give me ONE YEAR to turn things around and end the “misrule” now that Lysa is dead. If you are satisfied with what I have done, then all is good and there will be no punishment for you making this declaration against me and coming here to threaten rebellion to me under guest right. And if one year from now you think things are still messed up and DON’T support me? I’ll leave. I won’t fight. I won’t launch any reprisals.
The Lords Declarant look at each other and start murmuring.
Gilwood: No reprisals?
Littlefinger: None.
Symond: And you’ll just leave in one year if we’re not satisfied with the job you’ve done? Just like that? We take your word that you’ll leave?
Littlefinger: My word or whatever. If you’d like to write it down in a contract, I’ll be happy to sign that!
They continue to talk and murmur. They all seem on the same page, except for Brone Yohn who just roles his eyes and throws his hands in the air. He doesn’t object though.
Lady Waynwood: Then it’s a deal, Littlefinger! We’ll give you a year to make things right again in the Vale, and if we’re not happy you’re out!
Littlefinger: YES! It’s a deal!
They all shake on it and the Lords Declarant depart the solar. Bronze Yohn is the last to leave. Before he heads out the door, he turns and gives a slow clap to Littlefinger.
Yohn: Well… fucking… played, Littlefinger. Well played, indeed. But just know… not all of us are fucking idiots. I see what you did there. Don’t think I didn’t see what you did there.
Yohn points his fingers at his two eyes and then to Littlefinger’s eyes, and then back to his own eyes and then back to Littlefinger’s eyes.
Yohn: Yeah… I’ll be watching you, Baelish.
He leaves. Probably out to look for his dead son. Who is, and always will be, still dead since the very first prologue of the first book.
Alayne: HOLY SHIT, LITTLEFINGER! YOU ARE LIKE A WITCH THAT ENCHANTED THEM!
Littlefinger: Yes, I am pretty awesome.
Alayne: But… what… what will you do next year when they comeback? Let’s be honest, this place is a HUGE SHIT SHOW and I really doubt you can turn it around.
Littlefinger: Oh come on. A year? A year is AGES from now. A year from now half of those lords might be dead and the other half will be bought. Bronze Yohn though, he’ll be the stickler. But alone he will pose no threat.
Alayne: And what about Ser Lyn? He really seems to want you dead.
Littlefinger: Yes, he does. He’ll join every last plot there is to get rid of me. But I know something he wants even more than to see me dead. Ser Lyn is a man of simple tastes. He likes gold and boys and killing. I shall give him those things.
Alayne: Ah, okay. I see. So I guess that… waaaaaaittt… what the fuck did you just say? You said he likes boys? You’re going to give him boys?
Littlefinger: You heard me.
Alayne: What the HELL? How can you… wait… OH SNAP! Now I understand the line earlier in the chapter where Lord Robert especially called out Ser Lyn as the lord he didn’t want to see.
Littlefinger: Yes. Lyn Corbray is a child-molesting deviant. You really have to read between the lines on that one to figure it out, but it’s all there.
Alayne: And it also explains why he said I'd be hotter if I shaved my dead like Natalie Portman in V for Vendetta.
Littlefinger: Correct. Because then you'd look more like a boy to him.
Alayne: And you’re just as fucked up as him for saying that you’re going to give him boys.
Littlefinger: *shrugs apathetically*
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