What was he going to do?
What was he going to do?!
Bradley berated himself over and again for letting things go as they had. His daughter! His lust had led him to many regrettable actions. No matter how happy Lora was in her role dairy cow and cumslut, the woman she once was had been destroyed, rebuilt to fit his desires. Her children were being trained specifically to replace her as the next generation of fuckpets. Hell, his first encounter with Lyanna started a fucking war!
And now, his own daughter. Not even his family was safe. She might have started things but it was up to him to stop it. And he had failed. He had let his lusts control his actions. Just a single night of not spilling himself in a woman's hole was enough that he raised not a single meaningful objection. He had never, never thought of Jocelyn in that way before that day. And now he couldn't get the image of her pretty brown eyes, reflecting his own back at him as she stared up at him lovingly. As he stained her pale skin with his cum.
It had been weeks of travel. So even the memory got him harder than his armour in seconds. Just what he needed after climbing a bloody mountain. He'd long ago learned that taking care of himself no longer gave him any relief whatsoever.
Looking up at the castle of the Eyrie only made him angrier. For God's sake, this was a pre-medieval society! How in the ever living fuck did they build a castle on top of a mountain spire?! Seagard was one thing, this place had walls built directly into cliff edges! What, was it built pyramids-style with an unending flow of slaves and ridiculous casualty numbers?!
"Hail! Is that you, Lord Plaskett?!" a booming voice called from ahead from a man overseeing some horses being led towards what Bradley assumed were the stables. Big, bearded and loud. Could only be...
"Lord Royce!" Bradley called back, unsealing and removing his helmet, inwardly thanking the man for the distraction from his thoughts. Anger, sexual frustration and guilt versus inane small talk with people he didn't generally like? Oh yes, please tell him all about the crop yields.
Well, that wasn't entirely fair. Bradley had nothing against Lord Royce at all. The man could get along with almost anyone it seemed like. "How's the family?"
"A fair bit more rowdy than usual, I fear!" the big, bearded man answered with a bark of laughter. "After Waymar joined the Night's Watch my other boys have been listless, bickering constantly! And you?!"
"All well enough, though Lyanna's not happy with me."
"No?!" Every word from Yohn came out as a shout as they made their way into the castle proper. It sure made it clear he was listening but it didn't half leave you with an earache after a conversation with him. "Spending too much time with other women?!"
As if that would be a problem.
'I want you to love me as a woman.'
He fiercely shook off the pestering memory. "No, I," he hesitated, but it would all be gossip in a week or so anyway. "While staying in my home, the prince decided it wise to strike my daughter. I... took exception to that."
"Aye?! Were it one of my girls I might've done the same!"
"Here I thought Lord Plaskett considered women no longer worthy of protection," a new voice joined the conversation. One Bradley was not looking forward to hearing.
"Ser Symond," he greeted anyway, even if he couldn't force any enthusiasm into it. The Knight of Ninestars and as of only a couple of years ago one of his avowed enemies. Literally avowed. After Bradley had taken Arya as his squire he had received letters from many who were displeased with his actions. Several were people he would meet during his stay at the Eyrie. But it was Symond Templeton and Lyonel Corbray who had taken it a step further, openly declaring that should Arya be knighted, they would do everything in their power to remove such a stain on the title of knight. To destroy such blasphemy as any true knight would.
So essentially, they considered him a heretic and intended to have Arya killed should she ever be knighted.
Nice of them to say so up front at least. Chivalrous, even.
"Well, Lord Plaskett?" the knight pressed.
"Oh, you wanted a response. I thought you were just sniping for sniping's sake," Bradley said in genuine surprise. "I swore an oath to protect those who need protecting. My daughter is a scholar, an academic, not a warrior."
"Of course not," Symond agreed acerbically, "the Warrior is male. It isn't a woman's place to fight."
"You do know I don't actually follow the faith of the Seven, right?" Bradley was honestly surprised. He hadn't been to a sept in his life. He thought someone would have spread that knowledge at this point.
"Honourless and faithless. I should have known. No wonder you broke your oaths."
… The man would hate Bradley no matter what he did or said. So fuck it. "Do you even know what my oaths were or is talking out of your ass a habit? Protect people, protect women and children, obey liege lord and king. Any knight who fought for Robert simultaneously broke the oath to the king for the sake of their oath to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. You want to get at my squire? Well she isn't ready yet so you'll have to go through me first. But when she is, I look forward to you breaking your own fucking oaths and defying your own fucking faith to try and get rid of her. And yes, I do mean try."
-(-)-
'Why do I say things?' Bradley wondered not for the first time as he stood before Lady Lysa Arryn and the presumptive Warden of the East, Robert Arryn. Surrounding him were many other lords, ladies and landed knights. Several of them had already been where he was, kneeling before the ruling family of the Vale on the Moon Door, an unsubtle bit of theatre that conveyed the state of mind of the Arryns quite well. With heads bowed, all those who would kneel would see an execution beneath them. A strong warning to not step out of line.
Even if the Moon Door couldn't just open up beneath him, Bradley was all the more aware of the glares from the onlookers wishing it would.
It hadn't even been a day since Bradley arrived. With his late departure he had been the last and Lady Arryn had wanted to get the ceremonies underway as soon as everyone was present. Even so, word had already spread of his... conversation with Sir Symond. He and Lord Corbray might be the most devout and dogmatic of the Vale's ruling class but they weren't that much of outliers. The Lords Royce were the least devout but even they opted to avert their eyes than offer any support for the confessed faithless lord.
"Bradley Plaskett," Lady Arryn begins, "Lord of the Northern Peaks. It was my lord husband who granted you that title, was it not?"
"Lord Arryn and King Robert both, Lady Arryn. But yes."
He could feel the tension of the room rise even higher. Why did he say things?!
It was... worthwhile? To remind them that even if most of the Vale banners suddenly loathed him for not following their nonsense religion, he still had the King's favour. He still earned his title the hard way and had the connections to prove it. Things might be tense between him and the king at the moment but that didn't change how Robert would flip his shit if Lady Lysa decided to do something untoward. And her own actions of flouting the king's authority only made it all the more likely. It was a threat. Same as Lysa having him kneel on the Moon Door. He was only giving as good as he was getting.
Even so, it didn't allay him sweating inside his armour from all the condensed hate being sent his way.
Bradley wouldn't know it, but his correction was all the more effective for reasons known only to Lysa. She didn't want to give the king any more reasons to look her way. It was no longer worth it to risk turning him into an enemy. "Bradley Plaskett, do you swear to serve Lord Robert Arryn, Defender of the Vale, Lord of the Eyrie and Warden of the East as his loyal vassal. To serve loyally in times of war and in peace."
"I so swear."
"Then rise, Lord Bradley Plaskett."
Bradley rose slowly, listening to the murmurings of discontent from the other vassals before they were drowned out by his heavy footfalls. He would be leaving at the first opportunity. He was not welcome. And he wouldn't put it past a few among his peers to put aside their piety just long enough to have someone slice him ear to ear.
Or at least try to.
-(-)-
"I am bloody amazing!" Arya crowed as she came out of her third simulation of the day.
"You are making marvellous progress indeed!" Florence praised warmly.
"I can't wait until you figure out how to put Nymeria in there!"
The direwolf pup had been an unexpected addition to the household. She hadn't expected a name day gift from her father but perhaps that was just coincidence. His letter said they had found a group of direwolf pups and Bran begged him to spare them. Bran was the best little brother!
Lord Stark had sent one down to her at the first opportunity so she could train her while the pup was still small. The men-at-arms delivering her had cursed a storm at how vicious she was but as soon Arya locked eyes with the wolf it quieted. Nymeria could be a handful sometimes but that suited Arya just fine. They were kindred spirits that way.
"Would you like to end your session 'ere, Mademoiselle Arya?"
"I mean..." Arya started but hesitated. She certainly wasn't tired. The benefit of training simulations, any fatigue she suffered in the sim went away alongside her injuries when she woke up. No, there was another reason for her hesitation.
She was so very curious about those 'fun' simulations.
Asha had been genuinely giddy after doing one. She had skipped to the dinner table! Skipped! Asha walked like a man most of the time, she certainly didn't skip!
But then... At the same time, Arya wasn't a complete fool. She could certainly hazard a guess what the 'fun' simulations consisted of. Lora had been trained on them? Arya knew full well what Lora's role was in the household by now.
Sex. They were sex simulations. And didn't that just set her teenage hormones to be even more eager to try them.
But... At the same time... No. Much as she curious there was still a part of her, that one little part that maybe Septa Mordane had gotten through to. That part didn't want her first sexual experience to be a dream. She wanted it to be something real.
"Yeah... I think that might be enough for today," she said finally, heaving a defeated but resolute sigh.
"Are you per'aps unsatisfied wiz ze training?"
"No... Not really?" With how quickly her answer changed she knew it was stretching the truth. "It's just... It doesn't seem to matter how quick I am. Eventually I always get overwhelmed. That's not a problem for Bradley."
"Zis is no fair comparison," Florence reminded the girl.
"Isn't it? I'm going through the same things he did, aren't I?"
"Not entirely," Florence said, leaning against the computer console for the sake of appearing casual. "Monsieur Bradley went zrough multiple rounds of treatments to become ze be'emoth of a man 'e is today." The gynoid paused as the girl took that in. "'E as authorised you to go zrough some of zem yourself if you choose."
"He has?"
The synthetic human nodded. "Ze procedures can be invasive, not dangerous but zey will leave your body permanently changed. 'E 'as given me permission to perform zem, but only if you agree to it."
To be as big and strong as Bradley? It was an offer almost too tempting to pass up. Her body would be changed... Probably more masculine but Arya had never cared much about that anyway. In fact most comments about her femininity tended to be about her not having any. "I'll do it."
"Hm. Very well. We will go to ze auto-doc and get started. I will inform Madam Lyanna you will be indisposed for a few days."
In the privacy of her own mind, Florence cursed. She had been so close to getting Arya into one of the sexual simulations! She would have been so much easier to mold in such a situation! Sadly the girl had gotten cold feet.
Well, it was no matter. There were other ways to accomplish such goals. The girl wanted to be as strong as Bradley. When she found the treatments Florence was allowed to perform to be insufficient for reaching that goal...
Well. Then the pieces would fall into place, wouldn't they?