AFfC 16: Jaime II (Special Christmas Edition!!!)

Welcome to a very merry Jingle BELLS of Ice and Fire – special Edition!

Jaime: What? I don’t get it. How is this supposed to work?

Well, the otherwise normal chapter will be Christmas-ified!

Jaime: How so?

I’ll just add Christmas stuff to it, which wasn’t actually in the Chapter.

Jaime: What the hell is Christmas?  I don’t think that’s a thing in Westeros.

Shut up and stop questioning the premise, Jaime.

Jaime: Whatever.

Lord Tywin’s funeral procession is taking his (by now, SUPER rank) dead body out of the city.  Fortunately, the body’s smell is now hidden by all the wonderful smell of decorated pine trees. Because it’s Christmas. Ser Kevan leads the procession out of town.  Jaime rides his one horse open sleigh forward and catches up with his uncle, who is wearing a festive Christmas sweater.

Kevan:  Ugh. What the hell are you doing here?

Jaime: That’s a pretty stupid question. This is a funeral procession for MY DEAD FATHER. Should I not be at the funeral procession for my own father? That’s typically an event that sons are involved in, you know. Funerals for their parents. Now here, have some eggnog.

Jaime hands Kevan some eggnog. Kevan looks it over, but then bats it to the ground.

Kevan: Seriously though, you’re probably just here to bark some orders at me from Cersei, huh?

Jaime: Why does everyone assume I’m just a little bitch that does Cersei’s bidding? Me and Cersei are different people.  I kindly invite you to count the number of breasts and hands that I have. That should be a quick way for you to clear up any confusion.

Kevan: Well, they say you are what you eat. So at the very least, you’re Cersei’s pussy.

Jaime: Touché, uncle. The point is, you need to make peace with Cersei. This family strife will do the Lannisters no good. Especially at Christmas time!

Kevan: Any strife is not my doing, it is Cersei’s. I just want to be left alone at Darry with my son, Lancel. We’re going to get him married to that slutty Frey girl and then hang stockings from the chimney.

Jaime: With care?

Kevan: Is there any other way to hang stockings from chimneys?

Jaime: So you’re really doing it, huh? You’re heading out towards the Trident and staying?

Kevan: Staying at Darry? No. Someone has to combat these raiders causing havoc around the kingdom. First it was Beric Dondarrion, and now the Hound has joined him.  I will not have this Christmas ruined by raiders!

Jaime: Many men can battle raiders. But few men would make a good Hand of the King.

Kevan: Cersei knows my conditions to take that position. If she has trouble remembering them, remind her the next time you are in her bedchamber.

Kevan drops his microphone and rides out… on his uhh... let's just say reindeer.

Jaime: Well, that didn’t go well at all. Cersei doesn’t take rejection well at all. I wonder if she’s planning to have him assassinated. Or if she just hopes that the Hound will do it for her.

And while Kevan might be gone now, his cousin Lancel’s Christmas sleigh is still nearby. Jaime rides up to Lancel.

Jaime: Whattup, cuz?

Lancel: Oh. Uhh… you.. ahh. Erm.

Lancel is nervous and sweating bullets, fearing that Jaime knows about his and Cersei’s nasty time while he way away being kidnapped by Cat Stark.

Jaime: Congrats on your upcoming Christmas wedding, dude! I hear that Frey girl is a total slut and you can stuff your candy cane in whatever hole you want. If you know what I mean.

Lancel stares blankly.

Jaime: Hrm, I guess you don’t know what I mean.

Lancel: Uhhh… yeah. So, it was good seeing you. I’ll keep you and Cersei in my prayers. SHIT! Why did I mention Cersei?! Damnit! Damnit! Damnit! OKAY BYE! MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Lancel rides off, quickly.

Jaime: That story that Tyrion told me about Lancel fucking Cersei. I don’t think I believe it. Lancel is so stupid that he wouldn’t even know where to put it. Although, I guess Cersei is more of an “on top” person, so maybe he wouldn’t have to. Still, that line about Moonboy was probably a lie, right? I mean… I hope. Because if she was having sex with Moonboy when I was gone, who knows what kind of Clown STD I might have gotten when I came back and had sex with her on top of our son’s corpse. Anyway, that's besides the point. Lancel might have fucked Cersei, but now regrets it. Which is why he's suddenly got all fucking religious and loves the gods so much. Heh. As if gods really exist. All religion is a lie.

A mother nearby covers her child’s ears.

Mother: JAIME LANNISTER! It’s Christmas Eve and you’re saying all these terrible things in front my son! Why are you narrating these things out loud?!

Jaime: Sorry, m’am. I better get back to the castle to... ah... place presents under the tree!

And so he heads back to the Red Keep. There, he stops to watch some jousting practice, where people joust with large, red and white-striped poles to get into the holiday spirit.  Ser Loras easily defeats everyone because of course he does.

He continues on, and finds a red-faced Cersei drinking eggnog. King Tommen, Lady Taena Merryweather, and Grand Maester “Flash” Pycelle are there with her. For some reason they are all laughing.

Jaime: Cersei! Is that the alcoholic eggnog? I put a whole bottle of bourbon in there.

Cersei: *hiccup*  Whash do you sthink?

Jaime: Like… the WHOLE BOWL is gone! I just made it! I assume you didn’t give any to Tommen!

Tommen: No! Mommy drank it all herself!

Jaime: Okay, that sounds about right. Now why were you assholes laughing?

Pycelle: Oh, Lady Tanda Stokeworth’s daughter, Lollys, finally had that rape baby of hers.

Jaime: I think a baby is called a ‘baby’ no matter what the cause of conception one. Calling it a ‘rape baby’ is a little rough, man.

Taena: They named the baby “Tyrion!”

Cersei: GGRRRR!!!!

She smashes her punch glass into the table and breaks it.

Cersei: That shellshword Bronn who ish engaged to Lollys! Thish ish hish fault! WE MUSH KILL HIM!

Jaime looks at the twitching bloodlust in her eyes. It was the same fury he saw when she was staring at the burning down of the Tower of the Hand.  The only time he had ever seen that face before was when Mad King Aerys was either watching someone be executed or brutally raping his wife, Rhaella.  Oh, or also the look in Arnold's face when he saw Sinbad get the last Turbo-Man action figure. Needless to say, Cersei is obviously turning into one sick fuck.

Jaime: Cersei, if I may have a minute alone with you.

Cersei dismisses everyone else and now it’s just the two of them.

Jaime: Okay, first of all… don’t trust that Taena girl.

Cersei: Why? Becaushe she hash dark shkin? Thash rashceist!

Jaime: No, because she’s a Tyrell spy!

Cersei: The Tyrellsh shink that, don’t they? But shesh really my shpy who tellsh them what I want them to hear!

Jaime: Look Cersei, Kevan is leaving town. You need to apologize to him for whatever you did to piss him off. You need him.

Cersei: I’M A SHTRONG INDEPENDENT WOMAN AND I DON’T NEEDSH NO SHMAN!

The studio audience of Oprah, standing nearby, stands up and applauds.

Jaime: Well, you need a Hand of the King.

Cersei: I wash shinking of Orton Merryweather or Pyromanshcer Hallyne.

Jaime: Taena's idiot husband is a terrible idea, and the second idea is an even worse one. Do you remember what happened the last time a Pyromancer was the Hand? Oh… and what’s up with you making Aurane Waters the Master of Ships? Is it just because he’s young and handsome and you totally have a crush on him because he looks like Rhaegar?

Cersei: Yessh.

Jaime: Oh, I figured you’d lie about that.

Cersei: No. Thashhhh the reashon. I want to find shome misshletoe and kissh him under it. He can schtufffff my schtocking any ti--

Jaime: --And why are you hanging out with Qyburn? I know that guy saved my life and everything by treating my arm before the infection spread and killed me. But… dood… he’s a really sick kind of guy. And he was riding with the sick fucks who cut my arm off in the first place before he flipped teams. That creeper seems like the kind of guy you want to question when women start going missing around the city.

Cersei: I wouldn’t know anyshing about thash. *tries whistling, but can’t*  But Qyburn is loyal. Unlike shome asshhhole family membersh!

Jaime: I don’t know whether you’re talking about me, Kevan or Tyion. Probably all of us. But me and Kevan aren’t your enemies. We’re trying to help you. You think that everything you do is brilliant because it solves an immediate problem for you, but you’re never looking two steps ahead.

Cersei: Shhhhhuts your whore mouffff!!!

Jaime: I’m warning you, the path you’re choosing is dangerous. The crows will feast upon us all if you go this way, sweet sist—

Alarms start flashing and horns sound. Donner, Blitzen, Frosty the Snowman, an Elf on a Shelf, Jack Frost, the Nutcracker Prince, and the Three Wisemen start shouting wildly and flailing their arms around. The text "A Feast for Crows" flashes again and again.

Cersei: What the hell?

Cowboy Curtis: He  just said the Secret Phrase!

Jaime: No. No I did not. I said "the crows will feast," not "A F--"... uhh... No. You're not going to trick me into saying it. Nice try. Go away. I didn't say the words.

They all sadly hang their heads low, and walk away.

Jaime: Now what was I talking about again? Oh right. About your your an inept ruler, Cersei.

Cersei locates yet another eggnog cup and throws it at him.  Jaime dodges it, sighs, and leaves.

Jaime: Ugh. She is just the worst, isn’t she?

Jaime heads back to his own chambers, and starts going through the Kingsguard White Book again, reading it.  Eventually, Loras Tyrell comes into the room.

Loras: What you reading? Is that some Christmas naughty and nice list?

Jaime: No, idiot. It’s the book where the great deeds of members of the Kingsguard are written.

Loras: Oh. Well I don’t know. I’m not big on book learnin'! Neither was Renly. If knights truly do heroic deeds, their tales will be told for centuries whether they are written about in books or not.

Jaime: Well yeah, I guess we could pass down stories through oral tradition like fucking Homer or something. But haven’t you ever heard of the game “Telephone?” That’s how stories get twisted and changed over time. Best to have this shit on paper. But your overall point is right. The greatest knights will be remembered for their deeds. And the same goes for the worst and cruelest of the knights.  And maybe even the knights who were a bit of both, like the one I’m reading about now.

Loras: …

Jaime: …

Loras: Oh… was that supposed to be a social cue to me? Were you trying to prompt me into saying, “Oh wow! Who are you reading about now?” Because I don’t care.

Jaime: …

Loras: But I guess you’re going to tell me anyway, huh?

Jaime: I’m reading about Ser Criston Cole, who served the first King Viserys and the second King Aegon.  His nickname was “Kingmaker.”

Loras: Oh great. We’re ending this chapter with something super foreshadowing, huh?

Santa Claus then runs into the room.

Santa: HO HO HO! No! We’re ending it with presents for all! AND A MERRY CHR—

Loras: AGH!!! Some fat, bearded assassin!

Loras stabs him to death.

Jaime: Damnit Loras, that was Santa!

Loras: Who the fuck is San-- Oh no wait. I remember now. Renly used to get on all four, put a red ball on his nose and tell me that he was Rudolph the Red-Nosed Stag and that he had been very bad and needed to be punished. And then I would have to--

Jaime: ---OH SHIT! The Reindeer. I forgot about them. Quick! We’ve got to hide the evidence. We need to get to the roof now and kill those reindeer.  It’s fine though, since reindeer are delicious and they’ll make fine steaks with a lingonberry sauce.

AFfC 15: Samwell II

Sam is hella seasick as they ride along the Blackbird, a ship which has sailed out from Eastwatch-by-the-Bay.

Sam: *trying to hold back vomit* Ugh. I hate this. I have everything. I hate this ship. I hate my life. My life sucks. Everyone else will have a happy ending. Gilly will be a maid in my father’s house. Aemon will retire. This stupid singer guy, Dareon, who hasn’t been seen or mentioned in several books, will take over Yoren’s place as a recruiter. They’ll all be far away from the Wall. But me? I have to be a Maester and be close to my dad. I don’t want to do any of that. Even though becoming a Maester is exactly the type of thing that I SHOULD be into because it means I get to hang around with books and I’m also ignoring the fact that I too will be safe and far away from the Wall.

Sam goes to check on Gilly. She’s probably even more mopey and sad than him. She’s crying all the time. He tries to cheer her up, but it’s just crying, crying crying.

Sam: What the hell is her problem?

He then flashes back to the last time he was on a ship. Needless to say, it was also a terrible experience where he was supposed to be fosted by Lord Redwyne, but Lord Redwyne rejected him for being a little whiny, incompetent bitch.

After 10 days at sea, the ship is now east of the island of Skagos.

Sam: Rumor is the people here are all cannibals. So it would be a very dumb place to take Rickon. Gosh, I hope we don’t crash there and get eaten.

Even though Sam and the others are all on the top deck, in the background they can still hear Gilly crying below deck and the baby crying as well.

Dareon: OH GOD, WILL SOMEONE SHUT HER UP?! I thought these Wildling girls were supposed to be fearless warriors?

Sam: She is brave! She’s just a little scared of the sea. That’s all. I can think of no other reason why she might be sad.

It then starts raining.

Sam: Ugh. Another storm? Okay Aemon, let’s go below.

But Aemon hasn’t been too well himself, as of late. The sea voyage has been bad for his old ass as well. Sam helps him down below deck and gets him to a fire to warm him up. Gilly holds off her crying for a little bit to help, but the ship hits a giant wave and everyone gets sea sick. It’s a giant puke fest like in Stand By Me. Samwell is playing the role of Lard Ass, obviously.

The storms continue for days and says. Everyone feels awful.

It starts to get a little better, and everyone (except Gilly and the baby) go above deck.

Sailor: You know who’s fault this is? That Wildling woman!

Other Sailor: Yes. Everyone knows that women bring bad luck to ships!

Sailor: It’s true. Women shouldn’t be allowed on ships. They bring a curse. We should throw her overboard and the storms will let up.

Other Sailor: Although I guess it’s nice to have a woman on board to… like… look at and stuff. Or maybe have sex with, if they’re interested.

Sailor: What?! NO! We invented the “no women” rule for a reason! So that we could all have gay sex on the seas and that fact from our wives and people who will judge us. We use the hole “bad luck” thing as an excuse.

Other Sailor: SHHH! You’re not supposed to say that out loud.

Dareon: I might throw her overboard myself if she doesn’t stop with the crying.

Sam: Oh come on, guys! Gilly is just afraid of the ocean. Wildlings have never really seen water before.

Aemon: Sam, can’t you tell that Gilly’s tears are tears of sadness? Not tears of fear!

Sam: Why would Gilly be sad?

Aemon: Oh geez, I’m blind and dying and even I can see this. Jon had Gilly’s baby switched with Dalla’s baby.

Sam: WHAT?! WHY?!

Aemon: Dalla’s Baby = Mance’s Baby. Mance = the King of the Freefolk. Dalla’s Baby = King’s Blood. Melisandre the Red Witch = Crazy lady who likes sacrificing people with king’s blood.  If Jon switches them, then when Mel shows up to burn the kid he can be like, “Nah girl. Too late. That baby is gone. This is just some wildling ho’s inbred baby with her dad. That king’s baby is long gone.”

Sam: Oh. Oh ohhh ohhhhhhh! Hence the narrative devices stated earlier about the differences between the nursing and crying habits of the two babies.

Aemon: Yes. Idiot.

Sam: Man. That’s really messed up. Gilly is torn apart from her child!

Aemon: Yes, Sam.  There are no happy endings.

Dareon: Not true! I hear in Braavos there is this massage parlor you can go to, and in the back there are plenty of happy endings… for the right price.

Aemon: …

Sam: …

Dareon: I'm specifically talking about handjobs.

Aemon: …

Sam: …

Dareon: What? What? Forget you two! I’ll just enjoy the weather out here now that the ship isn’t rocking. I think the worst of the storm has passed!

Sam: No. Look in the distance. Over there. See the lightning? I think the worst is yet to come!

Dareon: You know what Sam, you Debby Downer?  Forget about the woman and the baby. I’m about to throw your fat ass overboard.

AFfC 14: Brienne III

Brienne and Podrick travel through Riverlands.

Brienne: Hrm, this is all so familiar looking. Oh yeah. This is where I travelled with Jaime before.  Oh, I hated him so much back then. But now… I… I… well, I don’t know what I say. I was wrong about him.

Pod: Boring! Talk about something else, ser! I mean My Lady. Ser My Lady.  My Lady Ser. Whatever.

Brienne: Ugh, you’re a pretty crappy squire, Pod. But then again, I’m not actually a real knight. So I guess it’s fitting.

Pod: Yes My Lady. I mean Ser. I mean—

Brienne: Say, as Tyrion’s squire, surely you must know something helpful about Sansa that I can use to locate her, right?

Pod scratches his head for a bit, but then just shrugs.

Not long after, the two come before a husband and wife on the road, who are pushing a cart along.

Farmer Wife: You two better watch yourselves on this road. It’s not safe around here.  Too many outlaws. I heard a rumor that the Hound is hanging around the Trident with a band outlaws. Maybe Beric’s group. They’re going around, raping and pillaging.

Farmer Husband: Yeah, we’re heading towards Maidenpool. It will be safer there. The Hound will be far too scared to face up with Lord Tarly!

Brienne: Ugh. Lord Tarly? I hate that guy! But then again… I guess I need to go to Maidenpool as well. Perhaps I can slip in and out of the town without him ever learning that I was there.

And so they go to Maidenpool and reach the gates.

Guard: HEY THERE ASSHOLES! You wanna come in?

Husband: Yeah.

Guard: Well, I see you got some eggs there in your cart.

Husband: I’m a farmer, so yeah.

Guard: I want those eggs. They’re my payment for letting you in to the city. Oh, and I see you have a wife too. Yeah. She can be part of the payment too. Her eggs, if you know what I mean. As in I inseminate her eggs. By having s--

Husband: --No, I got it, dude. You don't need to explain it any further.

Brienne: HOW DARE YOU, SER! Leave these poor people alone!

Guard: It’s called graft, you stupid, ugly WNBA player! I’ll kill you in a minute and feel nothing. I’ve got this job and I’m going to abuse the hell out of this position of power! Institutional corruption runs deep into this society! Hahaha, and there is nothing you can do about i—

Man: --Just what the hell is going on here?

A man steps forward to confront the guard. Brienne doesn’t recognize him at first, until she gets a good look at his face.

Brienne: Oh my! Ser Hyle Hunt! One of Lord Tarlys’s captains!

Hyle: Yes. You stupid guards! Don’t you know who this is? That’s Brienne Tarth. And she’s as mean as she is ugly. She will mess all of you up. She bested Loras Tyrell in a fight once.

The guards back away and leave. Brienne, Pod, the Farmer and his Wife can now all enter Maidenpool, unmolested.

Husband: Ser Hyle, thank you for stepping in to show that corrupt guard his place. You are a true knight!

Brienne: Really? You’re calling him a true knight right after he just called me ugly? Right in front of me?

Hyle: Well, I just figured that people have been saying that to your face for your whole life. And that by now you’d just sort of be dead inside and feel nothing when people say it.

Brienne: You have an excellent point.

Hyle: You know what else has an excellent point?

Ser Hunt reaches towards his sword and wraps his fingers around it.

Hyle: Perhaps you can thank me in another way. Through combat. I would love to have revenge on the wench that killed King Renly!

Brienne: You dipshit. It was sorcery that killed Renly. Not me.

Hyle: Oh yeah? Yeah? REALLY?

Brienne: Yes. Really.

Hyle: Eh. Whatever then.

He takes his hand away from his sword. His quest for revenge was obviously not that strong.

Hyle: Nobody gives a crap about Renly these days anyway. He’s old news. Come on, Brienne! Let’s go say hi to Lord Tarly.

Brienne: UGH! NOOOO!!!

And yet that’s where he takes her anyway. They head to a fish market, where Tarly has set up a makeshift headquarters to execute and whip people. Because he’s an asshole.

Lord Tarly: Oh crap. Your ugly ass again? I thought you were gone for good. So you killed Renly, huh?

Brienne: WHY DOES EVERYONE SAY I KILLED RENLY?! NO! NO I DIDN’T KILL HIM!

Lord Tarly: Even if it wasn’t your sword, it was still your fault. You were in his Kingsguard and he died, so that means you let him die.  But in a way, the fault was Renly’s own because he put you, a feeble woman, in his Kingsguard. Women’s place is barefoot and pregnant, at home in the kitchen and poppin out more babies. I should send you back to Tarth so that your dad can whip you.

Brienne: Jesus Christ, you’re just the worst. Oh, and also you can’t touch me or do shit. Check this out.

She hands him the letter, signed by the King. It says she’s on a mission for the King to find the Stark girls.

Lord Tarly: Well, you’re heading the wrong direction. Sansa Stark has surely fled back North to Winterfell.

Brienne: Maybe. And maybe not. She could also be headed to her aunt Lysa in the Vale.

Lord Tarly: Hahaha, you dumb, feeble woman. Surely you’ve heard that Lady Lysa is dead.

Brienne: Whaaaaa?

Lord Tarly: Some singer pushed her off a mountain. But whatever. This stupid business of yours has nothing to do with me. If you want to wander around these dangerous roads, pretending to be a man, then you’re going to get yourself raped and killed. Not necessarily in that order. And you’ll deserve it.

Tarly then walks off.

Brienne: Wow. He’s just the worst.

Hyle: Yep. So what are you doing here in Maidenpool, Brienne?  I mean, I know now that you’re looking for that Stark girl. But what about that mission brings you here?

Brienne: None of your business.

Hyle: Well, tell me anyway even though you have no logical reason to.

Brienne: Fine. There is a tavern here called the Stinking Goose. There is a guy named "Nimble Dick" there that might have information. I’m going to meet him.

Hyle: Let me come with you.

Brienne: No. I hate you. Get out of my face.

Hyle: WHAAAAAAT?  Why? WHY?! What did I ever do to you?

Brienne: Well, just a few minutes ago you were threatening to fight me.

Hyle: Okay fine. But that’s all.

Brienne: Oh right, and also back in the day… when I first joined Renly’s camp, you participated in a cruel game with a bunch of other knights where you all pretended to be interested in me. You all called me beautiful and tried to court me. But really, you all thought I was the ugliest person you had ever seen and were playing a sick, sick game where there was a challenge to see who could have sex with me first.

Hyle: OH COME ON! It was just a fun little game we played to pass the time! It’s basically just the plot of 10 Things I Hate About You! You can’t possibly still be angry over a little thing like that after all this time.

Brienne shakes her head and him and just walks away.

Hyle: What? WHAT?!

Brienne finds the Stinking Goose on her own and goes inside, waiting for Nimble Dick. And yes, I am aware of how wrong that sounds but it GRRM’s fault, not mine. Finally, he arrives.

Brienne: Are you Nimble Dick?

Nimble Dick: Sometimes, but when I drink too much it’s flaccid.

Brienne: Speaking of drinking, I’ll buy you a drink in exchange for “a word.”

Nimble Dick: Any word? Like “dog?” Or does it have to be a super long word like “floccinaucinihilipilification?”

Brienne: No, I mean a conversation. I need information from you. I hear you fooled a fool. And something about giving him passage for three across the sea.

Nimble Dick: Oh, that? Sure. What do you want to know about that?

Brienne: Who were the other two? Was one a fair maiden with red hair?

Nimble Dick: I never met the other two. But the fool looked frightened when he saw the men with Lord Tarly’s sigil on them.  I sent them on their way to Smuggler’s Cove.

Brienne pulls out a gold coin.

Brienne: Smugglers Cove, huh? Tell me where that is and this coin will be yours.

Nimble Dick: Oh, it’s a pretty obscure and hard to find place by Crackclaw Point. It’s almost impossible to get there. I’m not sure even I could give you accurate directions. It’s more like something I’d have to lead you to myself.  Which I can do for you. But it will have to be more than a single golden dragon for that. 10 dragons.

Brienne: Two dragons.

Nimble Dick: Eight dragons!

Brienne: Four dragons.

Nimble Dick: Six dragons! And that’s my final offer. I’ll take nothing less.

Brienne: Fine, six dragons it is. But your payment will only come at the end if I figure out your information is good and I find the girls. One of them is my sister and I have to save her before—

Nimble Dick: --Blah, blah, blah. I don’t care. I’m just in it for the money. Meet me at the east gate at dawn.

AFfC 13: The Soiled Knight (Arys Oakheart)

Arys Oakheat of the Kingsguard rides through sunspear, somewhat embarrassed of the fact that he is wearing a Dornish outfit rather than his proud, Kingguard cloaks of white.  However, he knows if he wears the white of the Kingsguard that he’ll be attacked and killed by all the people of Dorne. What with Dorne being somewhat angry at the King and the Lannisters for, you know, having the awesome Red Viper killed.

The people of Dorne want revenge! They want an uprising! But with the Sand Snakes imprisoned by order of Prince Doran Martell, now they won’t get that either.
 
Arys: These silly Dorne people. I can’t trust any of them. Well, I can’t trust any of them… except for HER!

Oooh! A mysterious her! Has Arys become smitten a lady down here? And, if so, with who?

Princess Arianne Martell, Daughter to Doran: Hey, it’s me!

Oh, well that wasn’t that hard to figure out.

Arys: Oh, Arianne! I’m glad you can meet me here. But we must meet each other in disguise, so nobody can see us together. You are a Princess of Dorne, and I am a Knight of the Kingsguard, sworn to chastity. No one must know of our secret love!

Arianne: Love? What are you talking abo-uuhhh, oh yeah. Right. Love. I’m totally in love with you. Madly! *bats eyes*

Arys: I’m somewhat worried about leaving Princess Myrcella alone. I am supposed to be guarding her!

Arianne: Oh come on, she’ll be safe. She has a tons of Dornish guards around her, and she’s bestest friends with her betrothed, my little brother Prince Trystane.  It was an arranged marriage deal… but for once the two generally seem to like each other and are inseperable. Always playing games and stuff.

Arys: At any rate, she’ll be safe enough soon! Your father plans for us all to head back to the Water Gardens soon. Myrcella will be much safer here than around these crazy Dornish zealots who want blood.  Although it somewhat worries me that your father had asked that we not inform Kings Landing of the change of Myrcella’s location.  I am supposed to be loyal to Kings Landing, not to Prince Doran.  But then again, the fewer people that know where the Princess is… the safer she will be! So I guess it makes sense.

Arianne: Oh. You’re still narrating to yourself about Myrcella? Have you not noticed yet that I’m standing here completely naked for you?

Arys: Oh. Yeah. Right!

They have hot, hot sex.

Afterwards, Arys is ashamed. He loves Arianne, but he is full of guilt for breaking his oath of chastity, which is a really strange rule for the Kingsguard to have since every single Member of the Kingsguard seems to constantly break that oath.
 
Arys: My dear… I… I… love you. But this has to be our last time together! Ever!

Arianne: You’ve said that before. And yet you always come crawling back.

Arys: This time I mean it!

Arianne: Do you?

Arys: Yes!

They then have sex again.

Arys: DAMNIT! Okay, that time was ABSOLUTELY the last. I have to leave you now, but only because I truly love you.

Arianne: If you truly love me, then you will never leave me!

Arys: All other Kingsguard who broke their oath have been punished!

Arianne: All the ones that have been caught, you mean.

Arys: They’re all caught in the end.

Arianne: Are they now? Are they? Have you heard of my great uncle, Prince Lewyn?

Arys: Of course I have! He was a great knight of the Kingsguard, who fought heroically and was killed at the Battle of the Trident! One of the best!

Arianne: He totally had a mistress.

Arys: What? Really?

Arianne: They all do, Arys. Don’t act like you’re the first.

Arys: It brings be dishonor!

Arianne: Look, my point is the sword in your hand is the one that proves if you’re a true knight, not the one between your legs. If you’re a good person, then you’re a good knight, regardless of whether you get a little coochie now and then.  The only thing dishonorable is serving wicked rulers and doing wicked things.

Arys: I… I have done that too. Joffrey! I served him and I obeyed him when he told me to hit that Sansa girl.

Arianne: Well, Joffrey is dead and buried now. It’s time to think of how to you can serve a new ruler.

Arys: Yes, King Tommen!

Arianne: Well… I was… thinking of someone else.

Arys: *GASP*… Are you speaking of treason?! No, my lady! No! I love you, but…

Arianne: --No, lemme stop you right there, sugar plumb. I’m not talking about treason. I’m talking about making sure that the right and legitimate heir sits on the throne.  And have no doubt, that person is indeed the heir to the House Baratheon. But it is not Tommen. It is Myrcella.

Arys: Huh? I’m… confused.

Arianne: Who is older? Tommen or Myrcella?

Arys: Myrcella. But… but… she’s a girl.

Arianne: Wow, smooth talker – aren’t you? You really now how to make the ladies swoon on your modern, progressive politics. Listen honey bunny, here in Dorne women have always been in the line of succession, regardless of if there is a male born.  If the oldest child is a daughter… then the heir is the daughter!

Arys: Well, okay. Point taken my love. But Kings Landing is not Dorne.

Arianne: You know Myrcella, right? You have spent time with her.

Arys: Of course! She is a strong and brave young girl!

Arianne: Right. And Tommen is a little 8 year old who still pees himself. You really think he’s a better ruler than Myrcella?

Arys: No… but… in time, perhaps… when Tommen comes of age…

Arianne: --Do you remember the story of the first King Viserys? He wanted his daughter to succeed him, but it was the Lord Commander of his Kingsguard, Ser Criston Cole, who essentially led a coup that made Aegon the heir instead. He pitted Drgaon against Dragon.

Arys: Indeed. The Targaryen civil war, known as the Dance of the Dragons.

Arianne: And so the rule of only males being heirs to the Iron Throne was not set in place by some natural order of things. The rule was created by a member of the Kingsguard. A devious plotter, not worthy of his white cloaks. Not a noble and honest and true and handsome and sexy true knight like you. You should set right was the Kingsguard set wrong so long ago. Help me! Help me make Myrcella the Queen!

Arys: My love! For you are proposing something that your father already fears. He has heard these rumors about crowning Myrcella. And although I told you that she is being moved to the Water Gardens for her safety… that is only half true. Your father also wants to prevent her from being crowned.

Arianne: Why? Why deprive her of her birthright! She will rule much better than Tommen. And think about it. You have been her protector this entire time here. She truly trusts and likes you.  As a reward for your loyalty and protection, it is very likely that Queen Myrcella will make an exception to the rules of the Kingsguard and allow you to marry me!

Arys: *GASP* Marry you?! I… I… YES! YES! I love you so much! I never even thought it possible we could marry. Oh, do you think Myrcella would truly allow it? Do you really wish to marry me?

Arianne: Of course I doo, pookie! You know I love you more than anything in the world! Why else would I risk so much to be with you like this? What other motive could I have?!

Arys: To manipulate me into doing your bidding and supporting your plots? No! NO! That’s silly! The only thing that makes sense is that YOU LOVE ME AND WE SHALL BE MARRIED! YES! I MUST DO IT!

Arianne: Of course, we’d have to take action right now! You know how my father is! I’m so scared! His guards have been so mean to me, and I’m pretty sure he plans to lock me up, just like he locked up the Sand Snakes. Then I’ll never get to see you again! *sobs*

Arianne: No! It is! It is true! I found a letter about my brother, Prince Quentyn! In the letter, my father said that he wanted to make it so that  Quentyn becomes his heir to Sunspear, not me. My father hates me and wants to put me in jail for the rest of my life.

Arys: There, there, my love. That can’t possibly be true! And hey… where is this Quentyn guy anyway?

Arianne: Oh, across the sea in Essos on some SECRET MISSION. I’m not sure what. Something to do with the Golden Company breaking its contract with Myr, I think.

Arys gets down on one knee before Princess Arianna.

Arys: My lady, I love you so. I will do anything for you to protect you and make you happy! Just let me know. Tell me whatever you want from me, and it is yours!

Arianne: Oh, truly Arys? Truly?

Arys: Yes, my love!

Arianne: Well all I could ever want from you is your love! That’s all!

Arys: You have it!

Arianne: Also, you could bring me Myrcella? That, ahhhhh… that would be nice too.

AFfC 12: Cersei III

Remember all that advice that Cersei was given about needing to put together a rush wedding between Tommen and Margaery? Well, much to Cersei’s resistance… that is happening. Right now.

Cersei: Ugh. I can’t believe this. Why did my father want this stupid alliance with the Tyrells?

Logic and Common Sense:  Because it actually saved your life. Lord Tywin returned to save Kings Landing with the Tyrell army in tow.

Cersei: SHUT UP LOGIC AND COMMON SENSE! I DON’T WANT TO TALK TO YOU!  And all this talk from the Tyrells that Tommen and Margaery should share a bed tonight? The boy is eight!

Jaime shows up.

Jaime: Yo. Look Cersei, everything is going to be fine. I am the Commander of the Kingsguard and I will not let anything bad happen to Tommen.

Cersei: NO! Tyrion is hiding somewhere in the castle surely! He’ll pop out and kill Tommen! I know it.

Jaime: So paranoid, dear sister. I’m sure Tyrion is long gone, sent on a secret boat to Essos with Varys.

Cersei: And how would you know that?

Jaime: I… um… am just guessing.

Cersei: That’s why I’m going to gather up all that wildfire that the pyromancers made for the Battle of the Blackwater and use it to BURN DOWN THE TOWER OF THE HAND!  Yes, and we’ll move the entire court to Casterly Rock!

Jaime: Hrm. Okay. That sounds a bit crazy.

Later in the day, the ceremony happens. It’s super small and fast compared to Joffrey’s big event.  She’s also angry that the Queen of Thorns made Tommen cloak Margaery in Baratheon colors instead of Lannister colors.

Logic and Common Sense: You know, even though making sure everyone THINKS Tommen is Robert Baratheon’s son is the whole key to the whole “legitimacy of Tommen” thing.

Cersei: I SAID SHUT UP, LOGIC AND COMMON SENSE! GET OUTTA HERE!

After the ceremony, it’s the dinner/feast time. This is also super small.  Kevan comes up.
 
Kevan: Well, that was fun. I guess I’ll be leaving now.

Cersei: SAY WHAT?

Kevan: I’m going to Darry to wed Lancel to his new bride.  And I’ve heard rumors that The Hound has gone and joined Beric Dondarrion’s outlaw brotherhood.  I guess I should go out there and hunt him down and kill him and stuff.

Cersei: Yes, I guess you should. If you bring Tommen the Hound’s head, he will be ever so grateful.

Kevan: Well, you know, when a dog goes bad the fault lies with its master.

Cersei: …

Kevan: And by that, I mean Joffrey was an twisted, disgusting, maniacal, incest-born monster.

Cersei: Oh, oh I got it. I was just silent because I can’t believe you said that in front of me.

Kevan: Peace, bitch.

He flips her the finger, takes a drag off of a menthol Newport cigarette, and rolls out.

Cersei: GGRRRR!!!!!

Jaime: Now, now, Cersei. I know you’re angry… so do  you want to hear some good news? The Queen of Thorns and most of the rest of the Tyrells are rolling out tomorrow. Mace Tyrell is going off to Stom’s End.

Cersei: Well Margaery will still be here. As will her stupid brother, Loras.

Speaking of the Tyrells, they walk up and Cersei has to tone down her complaining. Slightly.

Margaery: Oh, what a wonderful ceremony that was! So beautiful! And this reception is great too! I’m so happy to be married to Tommen. You have such a beautiful son, dear Cersei! You and I will be best friends from now on. It’s like now you’re MY MOTHER TOO!

Cersei: Must. Not. Kill. Must. Not. Kill.

Queen of Thorns: Beautiful Reception? WTF you talking about, Granddaughter? This is some crap. If only it could have been like the last reception where they incessantly played The Reigns of Castamere 70 thousand goddamn times. *pulls down shades*

Cersei: Oh, haha Queen of Sarcasm. Ha ha.

Yet the appearance of Margaery can’t help but give Cersei flashbacks. Flashbacks, yeah! Young Cersei: Oh hey, let’s go see this evil sorceress witch lady.

Young Other Kids: Okay.

Maggy the Frog: Hi there kids! Shouldn’t you have some parental guidance.

Young Cersei: SHUT UP, WITCH! I want you to give me a prophecy! I want you to tell me whether I’ll be queen one day.

Maggy the Frog: You really have to ask in the form of a question. That’s how this works.

Young Cersei: Will I be Queen one day?

Maggy the Frog: Hrmmm… let’s see… *shakes Magic 8 ball* …Oh yeah, Queen you will be. Until comes another. Younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all that you hold dear!

Young Cersei: OH SHIT.

 Back in the present day.

Cersei: Man, whatever. Forget that prophecy nonsense. Probably just a bunch of lies. Is this Margaery supposed to be more beautiful than me? I mean I’m Lena Hedley for God’s sake. No way is that Margaery girl cuter than me. It’s like in that “Snow White and the Huntsman” movie when the Queen was worried that a more beautiful woman was supposed to come along and replace her.  The Queen was played by Charlize Theron and the supposedly more beautiful woman was Kristen Stewart. HAHAHAHAHAHA. Really? REALLY? Trust me, Charlize Theron. You didn’t have ANYTHING to worry about there. Sounds like the Magic Mirror was broken there. That Magic Mirror had the same accuracy as a Sarah Huckabee Sanders press conference.

Cersei looks over and sees Tommen drink a glass of wine. Afterwards, he gives a slight cough.

Cersei: NOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!

She jumps up from her seat and pushes the wine glass out of Tommen’s hand. She then starts doing the Heimlich maneuver on him.

Tommen: AGH!! *cough* STOP! MOM! *COUGH* STOP!

Jaime: Cersei, calm down! He just coughed a little bit on wine. It went down the wrong way.

Cersei: No… but… I… I… I… AGHH!!!!!!!!!

She runs out of the room, pulling her hair and hiding the fact that she’s crying.

Nobody dares follow her. Well, except for Lady Taena Merryweather.

Taena of Myr: Oh, hey there Queen.

Cersei: You again? Wow, aren’t you bold?

Taena: I see that some dust must have gotten in your eye. Here, have this.

She hands her a handkerchief.

Cersei: Yes. Dust. Of course.

Taena: If you want something else that might bring a tear to your eye, how about the fact that your maid Senelle has been acting as a spy for Margaery Tyrell?

Cersei: Hrm. Why would you tell me this? Don’t the Merryweathers serve the Tyrells?

Taena: My loyalty is to my husband and my son. Not to Highgarden.

Cersei: Hrm. Yes. Your sexy dark skinned self was the one who testified at Tyrion’s trial too. I really like you. If your story can be proven as true, you will be rewarded greatly.

Taena: Serving you, my Queen, is reward enough.

Logic and Common Sense:  OH COME ON, CERSEI! SHE’S OBVIOUSLY FLATTERING YOUR SENSITIVE LITTLE EGO!

Cersei: SHHHHH!!!!!

Cersei returns to the reception for Tommen and pretends like nothing ever happen and that she didn’t just make a HUGE scene. Jaime quietly comes up again.

Jaime: See? Tommen is safe.

Cersei: No one who wears the crown is EVER safe.

Jaime: Uh, okay. So it looks like the dancing has started. Wanna dance, dear sister?

Cersei: No, get lost. How do you expect a man with one hand to lead?

Later in the night, others also ask to dance with Cersei out of politeness. She refuses them too. What does she do instead? Drink. More and more. Lots of drinking. However, someone does catch her eye – Aurane Waters, the bastard son of the House Velaryon of Driftmark.

Cersei: This seems like a good narrative place to insert factoids about how the House Velaryon came over with the Targaryens and is the only Valyrian family beyond the Targaryens to survive the Doom of Old Valayria. Aurane closely resembles the Targaryens and also has the distinctive white hair, purple eyes, etc. The Velaryons sometimes intermarried into the Targaryens after Aegon’s conquest.  Why am I providing all this exposition? Is it to simply note how attracted I am to Aurane because I think he resembles Rhaegar and I was brought up being attracted to Rhaegar and thought it would be him I would marry? That would be the simplest reason why I am mentioning him. But GRRM always plays the long game with these random, background characters. Is there some plan for him? Does me thinking, “Oh, he looks a LOT like a Targaryen” lead to some future plot importance of Aurane? Will he be some secret Targaryen or something? No narrative information has ever been provided about his parents. His mother is completely unknown and the name of his House Velaryon father has not even been provided. Is that important?

Jaime: Who are you talking to, Cersei?

Cersei: SHH Jaime! SHH! It’s an aside! I’m entitled to have asides!

Jaime: You sound drunk.

Cersei: Maybe I am! *hiccup* Now let’s light a candle to celebrate this new union between by son Tommen and this stupid whore Margaery!

Jaime: Light a candle? What do you mean by—

But by the time Jaime finishes talking, Cersei has wandered outside and nods at Pyromancer Hallyne. He hands Cersei a hilariously large red detonator box with a plunger on it. It says "ACME" on the side. He pushes the plunger down, and it connects with a string over to the Tower of the Hand.

It explodes in a giant ball of green flame. Cersei stares at the flames, refusing to look away.

Cersei: So pretty. So. So. Pretty.

Jaime: Cersei. Cersei. ...CERSEI? ...Hello? ...Cersei? Oh geez, looks like this is foreshadowing something much darker to come along.

AFfC 11: The Kraken’s Daughter (Asha)

Asha sails to her uncle Rodrick Harlaw’s castle, the Ten Towers.

Asha: Oh, here we are. At my uncle’s tower. He’s probably up  hiding in his Book Tower and reading books instead of being an awesome warrior like people in the Iron Isles are supposed to be.

Asha’s Yes Man: Yeah, probably.

Asha: I don’t see a lot of ships here. I though I sent out a message telling all the ships to come here and meet with me as I proclaimed myself as the new Queen of the Iron Isles.

Yes Man: Well, you did send out the message. Doesn’t look like too many people came though. I mean a few. Look, there is Lord Botley’s ship.

Asha: Ugh. Weirdo Tristifer Botley. Yikes, that is going to be an awkward meeting that reminds me of my youth.

Yes Man: And your mother is also at this castle.

Asha: Yep. Crying and grieving for all her dead sons and husband. Whatever. I guess now is not a good time to go and tell her that I just got news that Theon has probably been murdered too.

Yes Man: No, probably not.

Asha: Ugh. Whatever. Okay, well anyway… I have a bunch of prisoners and captives from my time in Westeros. I’ve got Lady Glover and her children as hostages. Better make sure they’re safe and don’t die. Dead prisoners aren’t very effective bargaining chips.

Yes Man: True, and I will obey you. Since I am your yes man.

And thus Asha then goes up to the Book Tower to meet her uncle. 

Asha: AH! There you are, you big fucking nerd. Reading books just as I expected.

Rodrick: Yep. Hi niece.

Asha: So my dad. Was he murdered?

Rodrick: Meh. Probably. Yo momma thinks so.

Asha: Surely the timing of the Crow’s Eye is suspicious. Euron has been gone forever. Then when he shows up my dad dies. Crazy, right?

Rodrick: Come on Asha, why are you bothering me? This is a really good book I’m in the middle of. What do you want?

Asha: I want to know why there aren’t a bunch of ships here to support me as the new ruler! Only about twenty ships showed up! I mean… where the hell are the people I thought would be here for me? Like Baelor Blacktyde! Surely Baelor would be here for me!

Rodrick: Oh yeah. Baelor went off to Old Wyk.

Asha: Old Wyk? Why the hell would he go to Old Wyk.

Rodrick: OH SNAP! You didn’t hear? Really? Your Uncle Aeron has called a Kingsmoot.

Asha: DA FUQ?!

Rodrick: Yeah, I thought you would have heard by now since it was mentioned almost an entire book ago now.

Asha: And Euron and Victarion are on board with this crazy Kingsmoot idea?

Rodrick: *shrug* I guess.

Asha: Hrm. I guess better a Kingsmoot between us than a war.

Rodrick: Well, actually… the two might be the same thing. I was just reading a book about the last Kingsmoot, which happened thousands of years ago. When one of the losers didn’t like the result… well… long story short, the isles were littered with dead bodies. Anyway, you shouldn’t go. The whole thing is a terrible idea.

Asha: I shouldn’t go? Well then how the hell am I going to wind up being the new ruler?

Rodrick: Look neice, I love you, but that’s a bad idea. Really, what you should so is just make some alliance with the Lannisters and help them win the Iron Throne. Then the Lannisters will probably grant us a bunch of new lands that we took away from the North as a reward for our loyalty.

Asha: Pffft. Look, I’m not saying it’s not a good idea… but it’s something I’ll think about doing AFTER I’m sitting on the Seastone Chair.

Rodrick: Hey now, niece. You get an “A” for ambition, but it’s just not going to happen. The world is a terrible, sexist place and they’re not going to choose a woman.

Asha: But I have the best claim!

Rodrick: And there is a pretty little Targaryen girl over in Essos that has the best claim to the Iron Throne here, but you don’t see her ass in Kings Landing, do you?  Life ain’t fair. So anyway… your mom is doing better. You should go and see her.

Asha: Maybe later. Does she know about Theon yet?

Rodrick: No. Are you 100% sure that he’s dead?

Asha: No. But Winterfell was just a pile of dead, mutilated bodies. Yep. A bunch of carrion. With birds flying around them. Black birds that could eat them.  If there was only some good, descriptive way to phrase that.

Pee-Wee Herman and crew stand just off-camera, but since Asha never says the words, they stay there. 

Asha: Anyway, there was no way to ID Theon. I mean DNA research hasn’t been invented yet.

Rodrick: Well, I implore you again not to go to Old Wyck. It is folly. Why don’t I just name you my heir to this castle? Shouldn’t that be good enough?

Asha: I am a Kraken of House Greyjoy! I will sit in the Seastone Chair!

Rodrick: Ugh. You know what you are? You’re just another crow, screaming for carrion! One might even call that dead bodies you speak of, “A Feast for Cr— ”

Asha: --No! STOP! NO! DON’T SAY IT! If you say the title of the book, then Pee-Wee Herman, Chairry, that stupid Pterodactyl thing and all those others will jump out and start screaming about the secret word or whatever. I do not have time for that. It LITERALLY JUST HAPPENED IN THE LAST CHAPTER! PLEASE, NOT TWO IN A ROW!

Asha leaves before that happens and goes to the courtyard and OF COURSE runs into Tristifer Botley because OF COURSE SHE DOES. The only reason this character was even mentioned earlier was as a Chekov’s Gun.

Asha: Ugh. Oh, hi Tris.

Tris: Oh! ASHA! *eyeballs are replaced by hearts*

Asha: Yikes. Well, I’ve seen you’ve grown up.

Tris: Yes, you have too… even more beautiful than before!

Asha: Uhh….

Tris: I’m so sorry about your father. Surely your uncle killed him!

Asha: Yeah, probably.

Tris: Also I’m sorry about how it must have hurt.

Asha: Huh? Hurt? What must have hurt?

Tris: When you fell from heaven!

Asha: Oh gawd, I just thew up in my mouth a little.

Tris: And uncle Euron has also been bribing other people to be on his side. He’s given away half of my lands to other Lords as bribes.

Asha: Well, when I am given the Seastone Chair, I will ensure that your lands are rightfully restored. You’ll be there to support me at the Kingsmoot, right?

Tris: You're going to the Kingsmoot? Oh no, that’s a bad idea. You shouldn’t try to be ruler of the Iron Isles. You should become my wife. Let’s get married and have tons and tons of children.

Asha: OMG Tris. Look. When we were little kids we boned each other, okay? Was there a time I thought I loved you? Yeah. But there was also a time that I played with My Little Pony. And grown ass people don’t play with My Little Pony any more.

Tris: Some do. Especially adult makes approaching or just passed their 40s.

Asha: Yes, I do not understand that at all and it is quite worrysome. But my point is this… I am not a little girl anymore, fumbling to tear our clothes off and figure out how to do the nasty. I’ve moved on and so should you.

Tris: So should I? What do you mean! I’ve been waiting my whole life for you! I’ve saved myself for you and touched no other woman!

Asha: HAHAHAHA… what? Like… like REALLY?

Tris: Y-yes. Of course! Surely you’ve been saving yourself for me too!

Asha: Oh you’re serious? LET ME LAUGH EVEN HARDER! HAHAHAHAHAHA, oh wow… Tris, Tris, Tris. I have not saved myself for you. I cannot COUNT the number of men I’ve slept with. And that’s just the men. Women is a whole other story.

Tris: W-w-what?!  NO! It can’t be true! You’re mine!

He grabs her to hold onto her and that WAS NOT A GOOD IDEA. She immediately spins him around and sticks a blade up to his neck.

Asha: DO. NOT. TOUCH.  Unless I ask for you to touch me. #feminism #metoo.  You wanna have a woman? Fine. Have a woman tonight. I’ll send you one.  There is this girl I know who even looks a little bit like me. Wrong hair though. You can put a wig on her and pretend she’s me. Work out all that repressed sexual tension. But you know what you’re not getting? Me. I am not your woman. I AM YOUR QUEEN.

She drops the mic. Even though she wasn’t holding a mic and microphones aren’t even a thing that have been invented yet.

She releases the knife from his neck and a drop of blood slowly runs down it. It’s a very visually artistic way to end a chapter visually. You know, I guess. It’s a book so you have to imagine how artsy it is. Black and white? Sure. Maybe saturation and a close-up. Whatever.

AFfC 10: Sansa I

Marillion the Singer is singing all day and night from his prison cell. It’s keeping everyone in Eyrie awake and it’s super annoying.

Marillion: I’m a barbie girl! In a barbie world! Life in plastic! It’s fantastic!

See? He’s just the worst, right? You can see how this would be totally annoying.

Sansa: OMG Littlefinger, make him stop. It’s haunting me and I already have a high tolerance for terrible pop music.

Littlefinger: Yes, you must since you’re engaged to a Jonas Brother.  But alas, I can’t make him stop. I promised to allow it as one of the conditions of him going along with our story that he was the one who killed Lady Lysa in a fit of jealousy.

Sansa: It’s odd that he’s going along with our story considering that he’ll be executed if he goes along with it. Not that he doesn’t deserve it. You know, what with him being an overall horrible human being who tried to rape me, etc.

Littlefinger: Yes. Lord Nestor Royce, the High Steward of the Vale and the ACTING Keeper of the Gates of the Moon will arrive tomorrow. He will have many questions about the death of Lysa. Hopefully Marillion will long with our story. But even if he doesn’t, it’s still two against one. Who do you think Royce will believe? Everyone except for Lysa and little Robert hated Marillion anyway. I won’t let Royce harm my wonderful daughter!

Sansa: Uhh… but I’m not your daughter for real. Just for pretend.

Littlefinger: Yes, I know that. It’s more like you’re playing my stepdaughter in one of those dirty internet “Oops, I banged my stepdad” movies.

Sansa: No. A million times no.

Littlefinger: Anyway, we stick to the same story we told little Robert.

Sansa: Well, Robert fell for that story because he’s stupid as hell.  Will Lord Nestor believe it? Besides, it’s a lie. And isn’t lying bad?

Littlefinger: A lie isn’t bad if it’s for the greater good.

Sansa: And what about all that stuff Lysa said right before she fell? You know, like about how you and her plotted together for years, killed her husband, and started off this whole storyline that caused my father to go south to become the new Hand of the King and which caused my entire family to die and the Kingdom to plunge into civil war.

Littlefinger: Eh, the ravings of a mad woman. You shouldn’t believe it.

Sansa: Are you sure?

Littlefinger: Of course, I would never lie to you!

Sansa: You just said that lies are good if they’re for the greater good. That implies you have a pretty pro-lie policy.

Littlefinger: Did I? Well never mind. I was lying about that.

Sansa: *sigh*

Sansa tries to sleep that night, but is again kept awake by Marillion and his terrible singing.

Marillion: *mumbles heavily auto-tuned rap*

Sansa: Oh God, that’s the worst. “Marillion” even sounds like the name of a mumble rapper.

After not sleeping again for another night, an exhausted Sansa then joins with Lord Protector Baelish as he meets with Lord Nestor.

Littlefinger: Lord Nester, it’s a pleasure.

Nester: Oh, Littlefinger. Please meet my son, Ser Albar.

Albar: Yo.

Littlefinger: And you please meet my natural daughter, Alayne.

Sansa: …

Littlefinger: *ahem* My daughter, Alayne.

Sansa: …

Littlefinger: *elbows Sansa*

Sansa: OH CRAP! That’s me? I mean… yeah.  That’s me. Sorry. So sleepy.

Sansa might be tired, but she’s not so tired that she doesn’t notice that Nestor and Albor came with dozens of knights and soldiers. If Lord Nestor doesn’t believe their story about the death of Lysa, there will be hell to pay.

Littlefinger: Alayne, be a good girl and go fetch Lord Robert.

Sansa: Ugh. If I have to.

Sansa goes to get the young Robert, who is crying and complaining. Sansa hates this annoying brat, for obvious reasons. But with Lysa dead, he’s been even worse. Some nights he crawled into her bed and tried to use her as his wet nurse. He also pees the bed a lot because he’s the worst.  Needless to say, Sansa has started locking her door to keep him out.

Sansa: Come on, you have to go meet with Lord Nestor.

Robert: No! I don’t want to! Lord Nester is stupid and ugly. I’m afraid of him.

Sansa: Come on, you have to go to the High Hall now and sit in the big chair for the important, brave leader of the Vale.

Robert: No, that’s where mommy died! I don’t wanna go to the High Hall.

Sansa: Whatever.

She grabs his ass and drags him there anyway.  As she walks in, she finds Baelish in the middle of explaining everything that happened.

Littlefinger: So you see, what had happened was, Marillion threw Lady Lysa out of the Moon Door. Isn’t that right, Lord Robert?

Robert: Yes. That bad singer man killed my mommy! Alayne and Petyr saw it!

Sansa is shaking as they tell the story.  Lord Nestor notices.

Littlefinger: You see that? See how my daughter is still traumatized even thinking about it? She’s shaking with fear!  Isn’t that right, Alayne?

Sansa: *crying* Y-y-yes?

Robert: FLY! I WANT TO SEE THE BAD MUSIC MAN FLY! AGHHH!!!!

He then falls onto the floor and starts to have another fit, convulsing around.

Littlefinger: Ugh, his poor Lordship. Have him sent back to bed to be leeched.

And Robert is taken away.

Nestor: Hrmmm…Well.

He stands there with a very contemplative look on his face. What will he say. Will he believe them?

Nestor: I never did trust that singer. He came along with that Imp Tyrion and was just the worst. I told Lysa to send him away, but she refused. And now look what happened.

Littlefinger: Yes Nestor, you’re a very smart man. If only Lysa would have listened to you, my dear wife would still be alive!  I came along… and I finally got her to agree to kick him out. And so she finally told him that he was banished. That’s when he went into the fit of rage and threw her out the Moon Door.

Nestor: Yes. Sounds legit. Still. I guess we should let the man speak for himself. Bring him out!

And Marillion is marched out form his cell to speak about what happened.

Nestor: Go on, singer. Tell us how it went down.

Sansa is still shaking. What is this dude gonna say? He's going to be executed if he confesses so why confess?  Oh that's right... Sansa figures it out when she sees him. It's so that he's executed QUICKLY and painlessly instead of slowly tortured.

As He’s brought out, Sansa sees that his eyes have been gouged out and some of his fingers removed. I mean maybe some people will feel a little for him. But those people are wrong. This dude totally deserved all of that, even if he is innocent of the particular thing he’s being charged with.

Marillion: Yes! I did it! I was so jealous of Lord Baelish taking Lysa from me. Oh, I loved her so and I killed her when she said she was going to send me away! PLEASE GOD END MY LIFE NOW.

Littlefinger: See?

Nestor: Yes, yes. It all adds up. Send him away.

Marillion is led back to his cell.

Nestor: Well, I suppose Marillion should be put out of his damn misery soon.

Littlefinger: Indeed. Let’s talk more up in Lady Lysa’s solar. My dear Alayne, come pour wine for us.

They head up to the solar, and this time Sansa remembers that she is Alayne and follows.

In the solar, they talk further.

Nestor: You know, all of the bannermen to the Arryns will want to come here and confirm the story as well. My cousin, Bronze Yohn will be especially skeptical of you. He has not been happy with the fact that you have been named Lord Protector. He was not happy that you married Lady Lysa in the first place.

Littlefinger: Wait, which one is Bronze Yohn? Is that the guy who keeps complaining about his son Waymar who went missing in the very first chapter of this entire series?

Nestor: Yep, that’s the one.

Littlefinger: Well, I guess he’ll just have to listen to reason and evidence. Oh, by the way… before Lysa was so tragically murdered you know what she said to me? She was like, “I love Lord Nestor so much! He’s the best! You know how he’s ACTING Keeper of the Gates of the Moon? That’s such BS! I want to make him the PERMANENT Keeper of the Gates, and make the title hereditary, so that it’s passed on to his children and his children’s children. This will create a new House and Title called the House Royce of the Gates of the Moon.”

Lord Nestor begins to tear up with happiness.

Nestor: I… I… I can’t believe she said that! It’s so… so… wonderful! WOW! I never knew Lady Lysa respected and loved me so much!

Littlefinger: Oh, it’s true. It’s all totally true. And here is a parchment she had drawn up to make it all official. But you know what happened right before she signed it?  That asshole Marillion murdered her.

Nestor: TERRIBLE!

Littlefinger: So I, as the Lord Protector of the Vale until Robert comes of age, fulfilled Lady Lysa’s final wishes and plans and I signed it in her place. You and your family will be a House of Great Nobility, and Keepers of the Gate for all time.

Nestor: YESSSS!!!!!

Littlefinger:  BUT...

Nestor: …Oh, there is an “but” here?

Littlefinger: Yes, unfortunately so. BUT if your cousin, Bronze Yohn, and the other bannermen of the House Arryn declare me as a false and untrustworthy Lord Protector… then of course anything like this that I signed will be declared null and void. Then your cousin and the others will try to rob you of this noble and meaningful title that Lady Lysa wanted you to have. Those greedy relatives will probably claim it for themselves and say something like, “This title belongs to the Arryns and has for all time. It should NOT go to Lord Nestor.”

Nestor: GASP! That’s awful! Those monsters want to steal this title from me.

Littlefinger: Indeed, they probably do. So I guess really the only way for you to protect your title and to get everything you and your family deserve is to remain totally loyal to me and be on my side.

Nestor nods his head.

Nestor: Well fucking played, Littlefinger. Well played.

Nestor shakes Littlefinger’s hand and gives him a head nod.

Nestor: A toast to Lord Protector Baelish and his faithful service!

They have drinks and eventually, Lord Nestor and his entourage depart.

Sansa: Wow, I can’t believe that that blatantly obvious ploy for him to be on your side worked.

Littlefinger: Indeed. He knows that now if I’m deposed… he’s deposed too. Together, all these Arryn bannermen will oppose me. But if I divide them up one by one… make promises to them… divide and conquer… then I can win them all. And that, my sweet daughter, is how you play the Game of Thrones if you want to win—

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.
Sansa: Oh shit. This again?

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 Moon Door. 

Sansa: Ugh. Where were we? Oh right. You were calling me your daughter again, which is a super weird thing to do in private. It’s just us two now. We don’t have to keep up the lie.

Littlefinger: Oh, but we do. Even in private. From now on, you must always be Alayne. You never know when someone might walk in or be listening. We’ve got to take this Alayne thing to the max now. Your chapters should now even be titled “Alayne” instead of “Sansa.”

Sansa: What? Really?

Littlefinger: Yes. After all, this book is already doing really stupid things with chapter names. Why not add another stupid thing?  But anyway… with my wits and Cat’s beauty… the world will be yours!

Sansa: Creepy.

That night, Sansa goes to bed and this time she forgets to lock the door. She’s woken up… not by Marillion singing though. It’s damn Robert.

Robert: Alayne! Are you my new mommy now?

Sansa: Gross. No. I mean… uhh… yes, I guess I am? You know… a lie can be good if it’s for a good reason. I suppose. Although arguably I could suffocate you with a pillow when you sleep and say it's for a good reason too.