Chapter Text
"My Queen Regent…" Petyr bows low, and feels the eyes of the small council on him as he does.
Cersei had called on him. Well, she had called on all of the small council, but as everyone got seated she had commanded Petyr to step forward. He had done so without pause, though he found himself having to mask the curiosity that suddenly crossed his features.
She stood a few feet away from him and the table with the rest of the small council and her hands clasped in front of herself, practically mimicking his stance. He didn't back down, instead, held his chin higher. The lion was proud, he knew that all too well, and he loved to hear them growl when challenged. Her long golden hair was done up in an intricate braid around her hair, almost representing a crown if you looked hard enough; Petyr, of course, had looked hard enough. Her gown was red, almost a violent shade of crimson that made his head ache a little in the early hours of such a bright and sunny morning.
"Lord Baelish." She greeted in return, almost bored as she turned her nose up in obvious distaste. He straightened his spine. "I have a proposition for you."
This peaked his interest. The Queen Regent had a plan for him? Do tell. Petyr bit back a smirk as he thought 'let the chaos unravel'.
Though it was he that was centered in the chaos today: "Do you remember your offer to marry the eldest Stark girl a couple years past?"
He blinked, once… twice. He nodded, swallowing thickly. "Of course, your grace." He managed to form the words from sheer muscle memory. The thin lipped smile-smirk she awarded him with upon hearing his response was eerie enough but matched with the red of her lipstick and the piercingly cold blue of her eyes… Petyr felt his throat tighten uneasily. "Though," he carried on. "I seem to recall you rejecting the idea before the words even left my lips, my Queen Regent."
"Yes, well… those were different times, back when we had a use for her." She paused, using her height advantage to lean closer threateningly. "Now that she's been tossed aside by Joffrey and my father's plan to marry her to my wretched little monster of a brother, fell through… any plan that I had for her seems like a waste." She looked down at her sleeves and toyed with them to feign nonchalance. As if she were bored of the conversation. "Her name has been dragged through the mud. Her home is practically non recognizable. Her family is dead and I fear I've no one left in the realm that would gladly marry her. I could send her to be a bed slave, sure, but what do I gain?"
So what did she want, then? She looked at this as a gift for him… one that he'd sirely have to pay for one way or another. Petyr stayed silent as she talked on.
"But you , Lord Baelish… Master of Coin, Lord of Harrenhal and whore monger…" Her lips curled at the last title and Petyr wanted to smirk. So she thinks I'd make her my own personal whore, is that it? Why sell her into slavery and get hardly anything in return when a rich Lord will pay a high price to make her the very same thing… only a private whore. Well, she'd be wrong. Petyr didn't want whores. Whores made him money but he'd never slept with one… what's the point of paying for someone to pretend to enjoy you? If he was to have that sweet auburn haired wolf… it wouldn't be that way.
"-you wanted oh so badly to marry the young girl earlier. I assumed, if I did this favor for you, that perhaps you'd do one for me?" She finished and Petyr ground his teeth.
"Anything you want, your grace. Though I must confess… it may not have been one of my more intelligent moves as to ask for her hand before. She is quite young and surely would not be pleased with the match." He replied in an attempt to twist it back around. Cersei scowled.
"This is a gift, Lord Baelish, I expected you to be grateful. You get to wed and bed the lovely Sansa Stark… whom I believe holds a similar resemblance to the woman you once loved." She snapped back, tone biting and cold. Petyr knew she was trying to embarrass him… stifle him. He would not give in. "And I'm sure , Lord Baelish, as a brothel owner, you have enough experience to make her pleased with the match."
His tongue lashed back before his brain could edit through the response. "No insecurities there, your grace, I assure you. Lady Sansa's transition into womanhood will be one that not her nor the rest of the red keep will soon forget."
He heard a snicker of laughter from Bronn and even Cersei looked pleased with this response… surely excited for Sansa's innocence to be obliterated completely. "Good. And in exchange, all I ask is for you to take her away." He frowned slightly in confusion. "Surely Harrenhal will do? I have someone else that I trust whom will take over your position as Master of Coin and I assume your establishment's can run themselves with your permanent absence. You see… things are changing here in King's Landing and I don't want her to be my problem anymore. I want her gone. You as well, if I'm being frank." She paused. "And besides, I think what's waiting for Sansa at Harrenhal will be even better than her long lasting misery here."
Petyr swallowed thickly. Take her away and give up his position and all that he's worked for? He's rich beyond concern, so at least money wasn't an issue. Though, by the sound of her reply, it seemed that whatever she had planned for sweet Sansa once they arrive at Harrenhal, it would be worse than anything she suffers here.
Petyr quickly started making his own plans.
"Your Grace, you honour me beyond words. I would love to wed the sweet Sansa Stark of Winterfell. When shall the wedding take place?"
.
Soon, apparently. A week, which was hardly enough time to get an outfit together.
And, one more thing she forgot to mention, it seemed he was the one expected to tell her.
He was walking through the gardens, knowing full well where her favourite place to think was: hide , more like.
Two years ago when he offered to take her hand, he thought it would work in his plans and benefit his position… Plus he found her gorgeous and the thought of corrupting Eddard and Catelyn's little girl was too sweet to pass up. It was his own form of revenge to the people who'd done him wrong. But now …. Now he'd lose the position and power that he'd worked for. It was like a banishment. And on top of that, even though he didn't consider her an embarrassment in the slightest… the rest of Westeros would. It was supposed to be a slight against him, to ruin his reputation. And if he got her pregnant… how hated would that child be? Two 'dirty' blood lines in one human being.
However, he couldn't lie that the idea of being with Sansa… bedding her, was a secret desire that he'd pushed down long ago. She had the Tully look, but was somehow more beautiful than Cat ever was. When he first use to look at Sansa all he'd see was her mother and it use to set his teeth and make him irritated beyond rationality. Cat had destroyed the goodness and innocence within him and she had single handedly created Littlefinger. Though now when he set his eyes on the young auburn haired wolf, all he'd see is her. She was far more clever than Cat and strong, too. She figured out quickly how to pretend in order to live in King's Landing and although he could see straight through every tearful lie she created… he wanted to applaud her on her performance, for she had fooled nearly everyone else.
He approached her turned back cautiously as she looked out at the few ships in the wave less water. She was by herself and as he watched he noticed her attention was set more to the right, where one small ship was docked alone. It was his.
"She may not be the grandest ship, or the fastest, but she's mine." He said as a greeting, hands clasped in front of him as he watched her. Her head spun around as he started speaking and he took a moment to admire the peaceful look on her face. She smiled.
"Lord Baelish." She greeted in return and he stepped a little closer, gesturing for her to sit and she did. He followed her actions and turned his body to face her.
"How are you, Sansa, truly?" He asked, tone serious. She looked down for a second before meeting his eyes again.
"Better." Was all she offered in reply.
"Do you still want to leave?" He asked and her eyes lit up.
"Go home?" She asked in excitement and it just about crushed him to know he was about to watch that disappear.
"Unfortunately, Sansa… no. But I will take you away from here." He paused, gauging her reaction. She tried to hide her disappointment but he could still see it there, swirling around those blue eyes of hers. He knew she'd been interested in Loras Tyrell and the thought of leaving her chances with him behind probably made her rethink.
"Well, Lord Baelish, I must tell you…" She began, as if reading his mind. "Queen Margaery has been trying to convince King Joffrey to wed Ser Loras and I, so I think that maybe I should stay."
He pursed his lips, not knowing how to tell her the next part, so he decided on letting her down easy where Loras was involved first. "As a brothel keeper, Lady Sansa, I think you should know that you aren't exactly Ser Loras' type." She frowned slightly when he said this, looking a little offended. "Not that you aren't a sight, my lady, but Ser Loras seeks the attention of men, I'm afraid."
He was a little thrilled to see her blush slightly at his comment before disappointment once again filled her expression. "I see." She said quietly.
They didn't speak for a long, pregnant pause until Petyr took a deep breath and prepared himself for the reaction he expected. He took her hand in his gently to catch her attention. "Lady Sansa… The Queen Regent called on me this morning and offered me a proposition." He started, accentuating 'offered' so she'd understand that it was a command and not a choice. She nodded, her hand politely squeezing his in return. "You and I are to wed, Sansa."
Her hand stilled and she blinked the earlier polite expression from her eyes. She was surprised and confused and Petyr looked away before he watched the disgust and fear cross her face. She pulled her hand away and placed in her lap instead.
"I don't understand, my lord." She said quietly and he looked back at her, hand stroking anxiously through his goatee. He straightened his spine.
"She wishes us to leave King's Landing sometime after we wed. We'd go to Harrenhal to live out our days." He added, hoping the prospect of finally leaving the Capitol would cheer her up a little. She wouldn't meet his eyes.
"But you're… so much older than me. And she thinks of me as no good for anyone, traitors blood, so why would she give me to a wealthy lord?" She asked and he sighed deeply, knowing she wouldn't be happy with the arrangement. Of course she wouldn't look at him like that.
"Couples with far larger age gaps have married before." He stated and she twisted her mouth awkwardly. "And I'm sure you know of my reputation, Sansa. It's not like I'm exactly respected here. And it would seem she has reason to want rid of me, as well as you."
She was biting on her bottom lip, not knowing what to say and so he carried on. "Listen, sweetling…" he started. "I know that this news doesn't please you, but-"
This seemed to snap her back from her thoughts and into reality. Back to pretending. "No, my lord, I apologize for making you think that. Of course this news pleases me." She corrected immediately and he half smiled, a little bitterly.
"Well, the wedding is next week. I will send you whatever you desire until then, just let me know." He stood and she copied his actions. His voice was a little dull, knowing how upset she was at the arrangement… though he, of course, was expecting no less. "Until then," he claimed her hand once more and left a chaste kiss across her knuckles. He leaned in closer to her in order to discreetly whisper "I am sorry, Sansa." Before pulling away and leaving her to her thoughts.
.
Sansa:
Lord Petyr Baelish !? He hasn't a single friend in all of King's Landing for a reason… he only cares for himself and his own personal gain. He betrays people and lies constantly. And now he's to be her husband . Not to mention the fact that he's almost old enough to be her father!
Her heart ached a little at the thought of her father.
And now she was to leave the few people she found she could trust… Shae and Margaery. She would be all alone again. She would be his wife.
A chill crept down her spine at the thought of their wedding night. He would take her maidenhead. She may eventually be the mother of his child. She wanted to gag.
Not that he hasn't always been kind to her… but he was so much older and unfortunately… she did know of his reputation. What kind of person decides to be a whore monger? How disgusting he must be. But oh! What if he wants her to act like a whore? What if he treats her like one? Surely if he's gross enough to own businesses like that, he'll enjoy unconventional things in bed. Sansa wanted to puke. This was her own personal nightmare.
Shae had been outraged by the news and the two girls had fumed about it for hours on end the first night, trying to make some kind of plan, but to no end. Margaery was upset when she learned that Sansa would be leaving, as well as concerned for her well being. Margaery, Sansa and Olenna had spent the second night together enjoying each other's company before saying their goodbyes and well wishes. On the third night, Sansa was surprised to find baskets upon baskets of expensive fabrics arrive at her chamber's. A small note from her intended telling her to use as much as she wished. She got a visit from King Joffrey on the fourth evening, him making joke after joke about Lord Baelish's littlefinger before declaring that as the father of the realm, he'd be walking her down the aisle.
When the day arrived she got increasingly nervous while she got ready. The idea that she'd no longer be a maiden after today made her skin a sickly pale white. She didn't want him to be her first. She didn't want any of this.
Shae gave her a hug before she left her room and Sansa held back tears as she approached the throne room. She held on desperately tight to the cloak wrapped around her, the one with her family's sigil. She wouldn't be a Stark anymore. She felt her eyes sting with unshed tears.
Joffrey came to stand beside her and she wordlessly took his arm. He was saying something, teasingly or cruel, but Sansa couldn't hear him.
The doors swung open and she had to remind herself to breath at the sight of all the people. Joffrey started forwards, dragging her along with him. The event was a blur to Sansa, as she could only hear the wild thumping of her own irregular heart beat. As she squared her shoulders and held her chin high, she caught sight of her fiance across the room. He was in a black doublet with a high collar adorned with silver mockingbirds. His hair was neatly combed and facial hair trimmed to perfection, though it wasn't a huge change from his normal appearance. He didn't smile as she approached, his expression straight and almost blank. Was he even human?
Joffrey kissed her cheek before leaving her to stand at the side, a shit eating grin on his face. Petyr offered her his hand and helped her up the few stairs before letting go again.
He offered her the smallest of smiles which she could only accept as for reassurance. She did not return the gesture and instead, focused on holding back both her tears and the bile rising in her throat.
"You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection."
Petyr stepped forwards and she slowly spun around. He removed her of her cloak and replaced it with a lighter one, made of silk. She turned around again, letting out a breath she didn't know she was holding in… feeling a pang of loss from the cloak.
"Your Grace, my Lords, my Ladies, we stand here in the sight of Gods and men to witness the union of Lord Petyr from house Baelish and Lady Sansa from house Stark. We shall bind them as one." With this, Petyr turned his back to the audience and Sansa hastily copied him. He placed his hand out between them, palm up, and she placed hers atop his. He laced their fingers together and something deep within Sanda stirred at the action. His hands were soft and warm. Ribbon was tied around their hands and words were being said but she couldn't hear them anymore. Her heart was pounding, but she knew she'd be thoroughly embarrassed if she missed a cue so she forced herself to listen, just in time, too. "You may look upon one another and say the sacred vows."
They turned, hands still bound together, and said in synch: "Father, smith, warrior…" "mother, maiden, crow…"
"I am his and he is mine."
"I am hers and she is mine."
There was an awkward moment of silence and for a second she thought she was supposed to say something, but Petyr squeezed her hand gently and she relaxed.
"And you shall bind this love and union with a kiss."
How could she forget about that!?
The corner of his mouth twitched up slightly in amusement as he sensed her distress. The ribbon was pulled away from their hands but Petyr didn't let go. He took a step forward and his other hand went to cup her cheek. He caressed her skin with his thumb sweetly and leaned closer to peck her lips softly with his. It was a brush that was barely present but her stomach fluttered no less. She was flustered as he pulled away, wondering why her body had reacted that way. He smiled at her and she wondered if perhaps there was something genuine there. That's when she noticed how green his eyes were.
There was cheering but she couldn't hear any of it. He kept their hands intertwined together as they walked together out to the gardens where a feast was to be held. They sat together at the end of a long table and waited in mostly silence until the food was served. Sansa picked at her food, barely eating, where as Petyr finished his plate with seemingly no trouble.
"Wine, my lady?" He asked and she was about to refuse until she remembered what would happen later in the night, so she nodded. He poured her a generous glass and she drank it back rather quickly. He smirked when she did.
When desert was served, Sansa was pleasantly surprised to see the three lemon cakes placed in front of her. She looked up at Petyr's amused expression, raising her eyebrows in question.
"I heard they're your favourite." Was his reply and she smiled a little. "I also heard you liked your stitching, which is why I sent all those fabrics. Did you make anything?"
Sansa was curious as to why he cared about these things enough to actually inquire about them, but she answered anyways. "I did, yes. Thank you for that, it was very kind of you."
He nodded. "I figured you could've used the distraction." He told her, leaning back in his chair to analyze her. She swallowed down the lump in her throat.
"Thank you." She repeated quietly. He just stared at her for a long moment after that, his gaze intense and goosebumps pricked her skin.
"You look stunning, by the way." He said suddenly and she felt her cheeks flame. She looked down at the lemon cakes and then back up at him. He was smirking now.
"You look nice, too." She replied and his smirk broadened. She wasn't lying… he looked very sharp and put together. She had never found him to be all that handsome before, but sitting here looking at him now she supposed he had his own kind of roguish charm. She definitely didn't think he was unattractive. Rather the opposite now, with his intense green eyes that seemed to see right through her and his sharp, defined features. She even realized she liked the look of his silver temples… they suited him.
People started to stand around the dance floor as the music began to slow. Sansa got a little anxious again as she looked over at Petyr who simply smiled at her and stood, adjusting his clothing and turning to her as he offered his hand. "May I have this dance, lady Baelish?"
She blinked in surprise at the title; it was the first time someone had called her that. She still didn't like, hated in fact, that she was no longer a stark… but at least she wasn't lady Lannister or Baratheon. She allowed a small smile to surface as she placed her hand in his and stood. "Of course my lord husband." She replied, trying out the name. The side of his mouth turned up for a moment and she thought it was the most genuine smile she'd ever seen from him.
They walked together to the center of the dance floor and Sansa felt nervous with all the eyes watching her. She hoped he was an adequate dancer.
His arm wrapped around her waist to settle on the small of her back and her hand rested on his shoulder in turn. He took her right hand in his left and their eyes met. "Relax." He breathed and she let her shoulders untense before he took the first step.
Sansa was very pleasantly surprised at his dancing skills. He was elegant and in turn made her feel graceful. He spun her around multiple times and received a few claps from the people watching them. She hadn't realized how much she was genuinely enjoying herself until the song ended and Joffrey stepped forward to ask for her hand. Petyr must have seen how she tensed, for the arm wrapped around her squeezed protectively, or reassuringly, she wasn't sure, before he bent down to kiss her cheek in farewell.
Her skin tingled from where his lips had been and she felt deflated when he walked away and she was left in the presence of Joffrey. He smiled slyly at her and grabbed at her waist possessively, unlike the soft grasp of Petyr's hands. Joffrey didn't even compare to the dancing skills of her husband. He leaned in close and took a deep breath through his nose.
"You smell nice." He commented, though it wasn't meant to be a genuine compliment. She clenched her jaw.
"Thank you, your grace." She replied tight-lipped. He miss-stepped and their bodies collided awkwardly.
"You must be looking forward to the dance coming to an end." He said and Sansa frowned slightly in confusion, so he elaborated. "The bedding ceremony!" He smirked, eyes lighting up. Sansa's eyes widened. She hadn't thought they would do the bedding ceremony. "I'm so excited to strip you naked in front of as many men that want to see as possible. And perhaps… if your husband takes too long, I might explore your body a little myself."
Sansa wanted to shrink or run or cry or do anything but keep dancing with such a sadistic bastard. But then she remembered the cause of all her anxieties… the wedding. "No." She said sternly and he frowned.
"No?" He asked, looking offended.
"No. I'm not your plaything to torment anymore. I don't belong to you, I belong to my husband and soon enough we won't even be in King's Landing anymore." She bit back at him and his eyes widened in surprise.
" What!?" He snapped. "Mother's letting you go?" Sansa nodded, eyebrow raised challengingly. He grumbled something under his breath before squeezing her hip almost painfully hard. "You listen here, you little whore." He hissed and Sansa tried to ignore the pain his grip was causing. They had stopped dancing and people were beginning to notice. "You are mine and you will always be mine. I can do whatever I want with you, it doesn't matter that you're married. Your brothel keeper husband would let me have you any day I wish."
Sansa did wince now, cursing herself for it immediately as she knows how much he enjoys pain, but his nails were digging through the fabric of her dress. She opened her mouth to respond but an arm wrapped around her to settle on the hip that Sansa knew was bruised, his hand pushing Joffrey's away. Sansa looked up in relief to see Petyr.
"I think I can take it from here, your grace. I'd like another dance with my bride." He said with no room for argument and Joffrey seethed, but only sent a glare her way before walking away. Sansa sighed in relief. "Are you okay?" Petyr asked, turning to face her, his hand stroking her hip soothingly. She nodded.
A new song started playing, faster than the first one they danced to, and he started a quick paced waltz. This time she had trouble keeping up because of how foggy her brain now seemed. "My lady, what's troubling you?" She was snapped back to reality by his calming voice and she blinked the thoughts from her eyes.
"The bedding ceremony." She admitted and he pursed his lips in thought. "Joffrey said he'd…"
"He can't do anything to you anymore." Petyr immediately cut her off. "I won't allow it." He finished and she felt grateful for this piece of information. "And as for the ceremony… I'm not sure I can stop it from happening but perhaps I can dial it down a bit."
Sansa smiled slightly, stepping the tiniest bit closer to him as they danced. "Thank you my lord." He nodded in reply and it wasn't long after that Joffrey initiated the ceremony.
"If my wife is in anything less than her shift by the time I get to her, you will make an enemy of me." Petyr announced to the room before a group of men carried Sansa away.
Sansa was frightened in all honesty, but Petyr's threat was effective and even Joffrey left her alone in her thin white shift. She still had parts of her gown on as all the lacing was so intricate, but the main parts were off of her. She still didn't feel comfortable with all those men staring and grabbing at her body but it was far cleaner than it would have been.
She was curled up on an armchair when he walked in. His doublet was fully undone as well as the tunic beneath it, exposing his chest and stomach. The laces of his breeches were loose from some woman pulling on them, but Sansa's eyes couldn't leave the giant scar that cut down his midsection. She was too shy at the moment to ask about it, but he noticed her looking and quickly crossed the room to fix his clothing. He stripped himself fully on the top half and Sansa shyly explored the planes of his bare back with her eyes. He was thin and not bulging with muscle like a knight would be, but he was still muscular for a man and his skin was pale but not sickly so. She thought he had a rather nice back. He pulled a loose white cotton shirt over top and pulled tiredly at the lacing on the front before deciding to leave it loose and open. Then his hands went to the front of his breeches and Sansa felt her heart race, though he only fixed the lacing and pulled it tighter before finally turning to her.
"Are you cold, my lady wife?" He asked and she looked over to the fire. She wasn't necessarily cold but a fire sounded nice, so she nodded. He lit the fire in his first few tries and came over to sit in the chair beside hers. "How are you?" He asked and she twisted her mouth awkwardly, wondering when they were going to just get this over with.
"Fine, my lord." She replied in a small voice as she looked down at the fire. She could feel his eyes on her.
"This will be our room from now until we leave." He informed her and she looked around. It was rather large and luxurious, which wasn't a surprise as the room is his. There was a small solar attached that Sansa could see from where she sat and a generously sized four poster bed on the other side of the room. He saw her eyeing it and cleared his throat. "How old are you?" He asked and she bit down on her lip.
"Seventeen." She replied, feeling her stomach twisting around anxiously in preparation.
He was quiet for a long moment. "We're expected to consummate the marriage." He blurted out and she looked down at the ground again. "If word gets out that we didn't, I'm afraid it would be a lot of trouble."
Sansa swallowed thickly and nodded, gathering all her courage before standing and walking over to the bed. She stood with her back turned to him and began unlacing the sleeves of her dress that were forgotten in the bedding ceremony. She pulled them both off before reaching down to pull off her shoes and standing again. She took another deep, shaky breath before beginning to push her shift from her shoulders. Then she felt his presence close behind her, not even having heard him stand. She paused when his warm hand rested atop her shoulder. She was shaking and she knew it. He slowly spun her around to face him but when she wouldn't meet his eyes, his index finger went beneath her chin to urge her face upwards.
He shook his head. "Not tonight." Was the only explanation he offered before moving around to the other side of the bed and climbing in. Sansa was beyond confused but followed his lead and climbed into the bed as well. Still, she waited.
But he didn't say another word and his hands never reached for her and soon enough she heard his breathing even out and had to only assume he was asleep. She let out a sigh of relief and closed her own eyes for the night.