[ She does as she is told, obediently gathering the corner of a blanket and using the rough cotton to dry her cheeks. Alayne's eyes are red and swollen, but they have been ever since she woke from death's slumber, the perpetual struggle with her own unhappiness having rubbed them to a permanent raw. Even so, she knows that Petyr is right, that her brother's anger would rouse once again at even the slightest indication that she had been wronged anew. The Young Wolf's ire has been woken and his hackles are still raised days later. Even though the debt of Sansa's life still hangs to Petyr's credit, Robb has come to bear the lie of Alayne Stone across his shoulders and so whatever great margin Lord Baelish once had has been made less, for lying lacks the kind of honor that Starks bear in their very blood.
Meekly, turning her face into his hand, the soft sole of his palm still damp with salt tears: ] I would never let them believe it. [ Just as Sansa would do all that she could to protect her brothers, so Alayne would strive to protect her father (her teacher, her lord protector, Petyr not Littlefinger). It's a tenuous balance between one loyalty and another, one life another another, one blood and another. So newly rescued from the thralls of death, it has been difficult (near impossible) for Alayne to salvage. But salvage she must, for there is no other choice and no other party to make compromise between the two compass points of Alayne's life.
The truth now: she knows that he is false, but blinds herself to the depths of it, refusing to believe that it reaches to the very bottom of his soul, that it cuts through skin and muscle and blood and has become part of his very bones. Everyone wants to be loved and everyone loves something in turn. Bran loves Summer, Robb loves his family, Littlefinger loves power and Petyr—
(Yes, she knows that he is false. But to whom does Petyr truly lie?)
It is a question whose answer is beyond her (she is the mockingbird's daughter, not the mockingbird itself). She would know only what he wished her to know; she would divine only what portion he revealed to her. Tiredly, Alayne shuts her eyes to that thought and, gathering the blankets to her once again, allows her shoulders to droop and her head to loll low. ]
And what do you wish?
[ To see me restored, to see me gone. To be free of the yoke of me, perhaps. ]
( ACTION )
Meekly, turning her face into his hand, the soft sole of his palm still damp with salt tears: ] I would never let them believe it. [ Just as Sansa would do all that she could to protect her brothers, so Alayne would strive to protect her father (her teacher, her lord protector, Petyr not Littlefinger). It's a tenuous balance between one loyalty and another, one life another another, one blood and another. So newly rescued from the thralls of death, it has been difficult (near impossible) for Alayne to salvage. But salvage she must, for there is no other choice and no other party to make compromise between the two compass points of Alayne's life.
The truth now: she knows that he is false, but blinds herself to the depths of it, refusing to believe that it reaches to the very bottom of his soul, that it cuts through skin and muscle and blood and has become part of his very bones. Everyone wants to be loved and everyone loves something in turn. Bran loves Summer, Robb loves his family, Littlefinger loves power and Petyr—
(Yes, she knows that he is false. But to whom does Petyr truly lie?)
It is a question whose answer is beyond her (she is the mockingbird's daughter, not the mockingbird itself). She would know only what he wished her to know; she would divine only what portion he revealed to her. Tiredly, Alayne shuts her eyes to that thought and, gathering the blankets to her once again, allows her shoulders to droop and her head to loll low. ]
And what do you wish?
[ To see me restored, to see me gone. To be free of the yoke of me, perhaps. ]