SONG OF ICE AND FIRE FIC!
Apr. 5th, 2006 09:20 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lodessaTitle: Something Borrowed
Fandom: Song of Ice and Fire
Pairing: Alayne/Petyr
Word Count: ~1000
Spoilers: Only if you've read Storm of Swords but not Feast for Crows, or if you're really observant.
Rating: R
Summary: Petyr comes to see his "daughter" just before her wedding
Alayne had turned down the offered help with dressing for her wedding; a small part of her was uncomfortable with weddings and maybe always would be, though she couldn’t say why. Besides, she could manage better on her own after all this time as a Stone of the Vale. So she twisted her own hair up with pearl tipped pins, wondering how much longer the dye would last. She had forgotten why the dye was important, better not to remember any more than necessary. She knew it was important though. Somehow the thing that she could not remember made her begin to shake and she had to sit down for a moment.
She was startled when the door opened and sprang to her feet, but it was only her father, the Lord Protector, Petyr Baelish. He was a small man, hardly taller than Alayne herself, lithe and youthful seeming as he declared that she was going to take everyone’s breath away with her beauty. She blushed when he told her how fine she looked and offered her face up for a kiss. His lips were soft and warm against hers. He held her close and she knew that he would never let her fall.
“You seem sad, my dear. Can it be you don’t want to marry Harrold? The boy is so very smitten with you, but we can call the whole thing off if you’re unhappy. Of course, there’d be repercussions but your happiness is what’s most important naturally.” Petyr assured her.
“Of course not, father. I would never wish to cause you shame like that. I am honored to marry his lordship, baseborn as I am.” She lied, pressing her hands against her thighs to keep them from shaking.
“I can see you are distraught. Surely it is a good match, but something is amiss. Tell me what’s wrong?” He insisted, pulling her to him, so that he head rested on his shoulder, sliding his fingers through her hair.
I only grieve to leave you.” Alayne replied prettily, using her best court smile.
“You’ve always been such a good, dutiful, girl Alayne.” He smiled, kissing right below her jaw line, “And you know I’ll always be here for you; your being married won’t change that. Fathers are forever.”
Alayne felt a strange tightness under her ribcage at that last bit, but she pushed it aside. Her father was good to her, far better than a natural born daughter had any right to hope for. She must not betray that, and her uneasiness dwindled as his lips found hers again.
“I’ll always take care of you.” Petyr promised, “I know what’s worrying you…” he added slyly, “You’re nervous about the wedding night, aren’t you daughter?”
Alayne blushed deeply and looked at the floor; what happened on one’s wedding night was not something to be discussed, even with one’s father. If Alayne had her mother, she might have made some vague cryptic comments or advice, but instead Alayne had her father. She reasoned he must know what was right, even as part of her knew it was a lie. She could the feathery light touch of his fingers running up her spine.
“Not to worry sweetheart.” His honeyed tongue insisted, as he cradled her face in his hand, lifting her chin so that their eyes met, “Your father will show you that there’s nothing to be afraid of.”
Then he kissed her again, the way that he did sometimes after a particularly long day of keeping the tentative balance between the minor lords of the Vale, more lingering than before, parting her lips as he pressed her tighter against his body. His hands were at her corset, she’d been halfway through dressing when he’d arrived, unlacing. The look in his eyes reminded her of when she’d wakened in the middle of the night to find him sitting on the edge of her bed, fingers gently grazing her skin.
As he slid the garment off of her body, Petyr whispered, “The boy may not know what to do with laces and you may have to help him…” he continued, trailing his lips down past her collarbone to embrace her newly revealed flesh.
This was unfamiliar territory for Alayne, and she let out a small gasp in response to the fiery feeling his mouth left against her skin. She felt exposed, but her father would never hurt her, right? No. Her only wanted to make her feel good, she told herself as he lowered himself down her body, leaving a tingling warm sensation all over.
“He also might not bother with fully undressing you” he added, as her petticoats fell to the ground, adding to her nakedness and his hands slid up the back of her legs, “Some men are lazy and impatient like that.”
His tone let her know that he would never be such a man, as he guided her backwards towards her bed. Alayne was completely unclad by the time the back of her legs hit the frame and she was laid back on its softness. Petyr pulled off his tunic and unclasped his doublet, revealing his own lean frame, before joining her there. As he slid back up her body to press his mouth against hers once more, he murmured, “It doesn’t matter though. You’ve always been strong and you’ll have me to come to for everything you might need.”
His body was smooth and firm against hers, and it seemed somehow different than when she’d helped him before with his bath after an exhausting day. She remembered how he’d taken her hand as she stood by the edge of the tub and she’d thought for a moment that he was going to pull her in with him. Would his skin have felt different against hers in the wetness of the water? A part of her felt nauseous, but another part just wanted him closer, his arms a protection and comfort.
“I’m going to show you now, dearest. You must be brave and trust me. Can you do that child?” Petyr informed Alayne as he guided her legs apart.
Alayne nodded and Petyr kissed her again, and then there was pain, unbelievable pain and she dug her nails into her palms to keep from crying and counted in her mind until the pain receded slowly, replaced with the sensation of closeness she’d been craving.
Fandom: Song of Ice and Fire
Pairing: Alayne/Petyr
Word Count: ~1000
Spoilers: Only if you've read Storm of Swords but not Feast for Crows, or if you're really observant.
Rating: R
Summary: Petyr comes to see his "daughter" just before her wedding
Alayne had turned down the offered help with dressing for her wedding; a small part of her was uncomfortable with weddings and maybe always would be, though she couldn’t say why. Besides, she could manage better on her own after all this time as a Stone of the Vale. So she twisted her own hair up with pearl tipped pins, wondering how much longer the dye would last. She had forgotten why the dye was important, better not to remember any more than necessary. She knew it was important though. Somehow the thing that she could not remember made her begin to shake and she had to sit down for a moment.
She was startled when the door opened and sprang to her feet, but it was only her father, the Lord Protector, Petyr Baelish. He was a small man, hardly taller than Alayne herself, lithe and youthful seeming as he declared that she was going to take everyone’s breath away with her beauty. She blushed when he told her how fine she looked and offered her face up for a kiss. His lips were soft and warm against hers. He held her close and she knew that he would never let her fall.
“You seem sad, my dear. Can it be you don’t want to marry Harrold? The boy is so very smitten with you, but we can call the whole thing off if you’re unhappy. Of course, there’d be repercussions but your happiness is what’s most important naturally.” Petyr assured her.
“Of course not, father. I would never wish to cause you shame like that. I am honored to marry his lordship, baseborn as I am.” She lied, pressing her hands against her thighs to keep them from shaking.
“I can see you are distraught. Surely it is a good match, but something is amiss. Tell me what’s wrong?” He insisted, pulling her to him, so that he head rested on his shoulder, sliding his fingers through her hair.
I only grieve to leave you.” Alayne replied prettily, using her best court smile.
“You’ve always been such a good, dutiful, girl Alayne.” He smiled, kissing right below her jaw line, “And you know I’ll always be here for you; your being married won’t change that. Fathers are forever.”
Alayne felt a strange tightness under her ribcage at that last bit, but she pushed it aside. Her father was good to her, far better than a natural born daughter had any right to hope for. She must not betray that, and her uneasiness dwindled as his lips found hers again.
“I’ll always take care of you.” Petyr promised, “I know what’s worrying you…” he added slyly, “You’re nervous about the wedding night, aren’t you daughter?”
Alayne blushed deeply and looked at the floor; what happened on one’s wedding night was not something to be discussed, even with one’s father. If Alayne had her mother, she might have made some vague cryptic comments or advice, but instead Alayne had her father. She reasoned he must know what was right, even as part of her knew it was a lie. She could the feathery light touch of his fingers running up her spine.
“Not to worry sweetheart.” His honeyed tongue insisted, as he cradled her face in his hand, lifting her chin so that their eyes met, “Your father will show you that there’s nothing to be afraid of.”
Then he kissed her again, the way that he did sometimes after a particularly long day of keeping the tentative balance between the minor lords of the Vale, more lingering than before, parting her lips as he pressed her tighter against his body. His hands were at her corset, she’d been halfway through dressing when he’d arrived, unlacing. The look in his eyes reminded her of when she’d wakened in the middle of the night to find him sitting on the edge of her bed, fingers gently grazing her skin.
As he slid the garment off of her body, Petyr whispered, “The boy may not know what to do with laces and you may have to help him…” he continued, trailing his lips down past her collarbone to embrace her newly revealed flesh.
This was unfamiliar territory for Alayne, and she let out a small gasp in response to the fiery feeling his mouth left against her skin. She felt exposed, but her father would never hurt her, right? No. Her only wanted to make her feel good, she told herself as he lowered himself down her body, leaving a tingling warm sensation all over.
“He also might not bother with fully undressing you” he added, as her petticoats fell to the ground, adding to her nakedness and his hands slid up the back of her legs, “Some men are lazy and impatient like that.”
His tone let her know that he would never be such a man, as he guided her backwards towards her bed. Alayne was completely unclad by the time the back of her legs hit the frame and she was laid back on its softness. Petyr pulled off his tunic and unclasped his doublet, revealing his own lean frame, before joining her there. As he slid back up her body to press his mouth against hers once more, he murmured, “It doesn’t matter though. You’ve always been strong and you’ll have me to come to for everything you might need.”
His body was smooth and firm against hers, and it seemed somehow different than when she’d helped him before with his bath after an exhausting day. She remembered how he’d taken her hand as she stood by the edge of the tub and she’d thought for a moment that he was going to pull her in with him. Would his skin have felt different against hers in the wetness of the water? A part of her felt nauseous, but another part just wanted him closer, his arms a protection and comfort.
“I’m going to show you now, dearest. You must be brave and trust me. Can you do that child?” Petyr informed Alayne as he guided her legs apart.
Alayne nodded and Petyr kissed her again, and then there was pain, unbelievable pain and she dug her nails into her palms to keep from crying and counted in her mind until the pain receded slowly, replaced with the sensation of closeness she’d been craving.
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no subject
Date: 2006-06-13 08:23 pm (UTC)I find the ending a bit empty, though. I'm so fixated on the image of her in the maiden cloak of the Starks that her finding the closeness she'd wanted seems to fade in comparison.
The first line is my favorite, though. I love it - the sense that she's slipped into Alayne but has this creepy feeling about weddings left over from Sansa's life - GAH!
no subject
Date: 2006-06-13 08:54 pm (UTC)Later, when I got the ever observant comments of my flist at the time (which somehow have dissapeared and I know not where to) I realized that there were some problems with it.
I think you're absolutely right about the ending. I hadn't thought about the Stark maiden cloak... probably because she wouldn't be weating it in this case. It does need to be stronger... more issuefull though.
I'm glad you liked that he just can't bring himself to wait and to do the smar thing (most of the original batch of readers thought it was out of character).
no subject
Date: 2006-06-13 09:05 pm (UTC)But his fixation on Sansa IS going to be his downfall, so that worked for me on that level. Maybe you could have addressed it, though the POV limits that a LOT since you're looking at it from Sansa's perspective yet she doesn't quite realize she's Sansa. There's almost no way to get at why Petyr would do soemthing against his usual character in that instance.
no subject
Date: 2006-06-13 09:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-06-13 08:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-06-13 08:58 pm (UTC)But I'm intrigued by how you show Sansa as having traveled far enough from her sense of self that she feels more like Alayne than anything else, despite the way it sort of hints at how long she might have been in this situation. Which is especially worrying (poor Sansa!) when one considers how much stronger she seemed at the end of AFFC
I am not expecting Sansa to end up like this, but I thought it was quite possibly a path that she could travel because Sansa's strength in the last book was bound up in her shift of identity and the useful pragmatic characteristics she had taken up as Alayne and a Stone as opposed to a Stark. In the text I think Sansa will reclaim her Stark identity and blend it with the things she's learned as a Stone.
no subject
Date: 2006-06-13 09:02 pm (UTC)I think more wrong in an effective storytelling way. Your fic is disturbing in the sense that you know as a reader that Sansa's been down this path of denial and willful blindness before, not disturbing in the sense of "OMG THAT'S NOT SANSA!1!1!!"
no subject
Date: 2006-06-13 09:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-06-13 08:53 pm (UTC)Thanks for posting this :-)
no subject
Date: 2006-06-13 09:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-06-16 05:11 pm (UTC)You know what stood out to me the most?
better not to remember any more than necessary
Very creepy, and so right.
Thank you for this!
no subject
Date: 2006-06-16 05:12 pm (UTC)