Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2852786.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Major_Character_Death, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Game_of_Thrones_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Petyr_Baelish/Sansa_Stark
  Character:
      Petyr_Baelish, Sansa_Stark, Cersei_Lannister, Varys_(ASoIaF), Oberyn
      Martell, Doran_Martell
  Additional Tags:
      Underage_Sex, Graphic_Description, Dirty_Talk, Lies, Loss_of_Virginity,
      Possessive_Behavior, Alternate_Canon
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-12-25 Updated: 2015-07-07 Chapters: 9/? Words: 9854
****** Birdcatcher ******
by Grethers
Summary
     Cersei needs to annul the marriage between Joffrey and Sansa.
     Littlefinger convinces the small council of his own selfish plan.
     Will he succeed?
     Will Sansa fall for the trap? And is the only one who Lord Baelish
     has feelings for really himself?
***** Heavy Doors *****
"Not an option. The northerners will turn against us even faster than now.“
Littlefinger stepped nervously through the room. He felt cold for the first
time in years. Anger appeared on Cersei’s face, her mouth formed a line and her
eyes narrowed. “Would it be an option to marry the daughter of a traitor?”
hissed Cersei. The air smelled like the oncoming weather, wet and cold.
Then Varys raised his high voice. “A violent storm is coming. I can smell it.
The northeners will come, yes. So does winter. However, Ned's oldest son will
have problems with attacking the royal family if his beloved sister is part of
it." the eunuch smiled widely.
 
Varys had understood. Lord Bealish knew that he'd support him. Varys knew that
a friendship with him is more precious than all the gold of Castamaer.
Littlefinger refilled his gold plated glass with wine. He hated to do this
himself, but Cersei had banned all the servants due to her intense fear of
spies. He coughed after he took a sip of the wine.
“Make the northeners see her disgrace. Distract them, Your Grace.” he
suggested. “Make her sing a terrible song. Let everybody watch.” said Petyr in
an icy voice. However, he smiled widely, slowly turning the glass in his hands.
“What are you thinking of?” Cercei demanded, “This girl is trained like a dog.
She wouldn't even flinch if I would hit her.“
He still turned the glass in his hands, looking at the reflections of the
quivering light, feeling his curves and edges with his fingertips. “That's a
good thing. She's like a puppet. We just have to play her.” Lord Baelish raised
his eyebrows. “Free the little bird, and watch her forget all the tricks she
learned. Give Lady Sansa freedom, and she'll forget the danger which is still
hiding behind her back.” He replaced the glass on the table and focused the
blonde Queen with his grey eyes.
"Send someone she trusts with her, someone who pretends to be on her side, but
is secretly leading her. In the wrong direction.” he explained.
The Queen wasn't smiling, but Petyr knew that she was more than pleased with
his plan by the way her eyes sparkeld. It got colder in the room and goosebumps
appeared on Cersei's skin which wasn't covered with green silk.
Varys had doubts. ”I don't think that Sansa is so dull to trust anybody these
days.” Cersei and the Eunuch were thinking that he's doing everything just for
his own benefits, therefore the question from Varys. They weren't wrong, he was
doing it for his own benefits. But they had no choice. He knew his plan was the
best, and the only one they had.
“Our sweet little Sansa believes in fairy tales, lets give her one.” Petyr
purred."And trusting and following orders, isn't the same thing, My Lord."
He smiled and knew, he had the permission to do whatever has to be done. That
evening, when he felt asleep, the smirk was still resting on his lips.
-
Many people were there. She felt that even through the heavy doors. There
wasn't loud laughter like there used to be in Winterfell, but she heard the
heated discussions clearly, many thrilled voices. The smell of bread found his
way through the heavy wood.
 Of course they're not laughing, stupid, she thought to herself. Sansa stayed
in front of the door, enjoying the last seconds of her beloved loneliness.
 There's war, nobody has any reason to laugh.
She didn't want to open the door. She didn't want to sit at a table with all
these liars, murderers and traitors. She didn't want to smile, to pretend that
she's enjoying her food, when secretly wants to throw up every bite.When she
slowly pushed the door open, barely anyone noticed her.
The men and the Queen, who were sitting at the table, were too involved in
their fight of words. Only a few eyes caught her standing there, but didn't
seemed to be interested in her at all.
Except him.The master of coins didn't move his eyes from Sansa. He stared at
her like she hadn't noticed it. It seemed like Petyr Baelish would deduct her
with his silver-blue eyes. He folded his hands in his lap. For a second there
was a tender smile on Lord Baelish’s face. More and more blood was flooding
into her cheeks when she was slowly walking to her seat next to the Queen.
The meal consisted of roasted venison, giant salmon, cooked carrots, and
countless other sorts of vegetables. Sansa couldn't even swallow. She thought
of all the people outside the great wall that surrounded the castle. She
thought of all the suffering, hunger, and the pain out there. She thought of
her sister, her brothers and her parents.
She was sitting there, pretending when a hand was placed on her shoulder.
Before she could stand and identify the owner of the hand, she heard the tender
voice of Lord Baelish.
“Lady Sansa, may I have the honor?” He removed his hand from her shoulder. She
knew that she was supposed to stand up and follow him. Sansa gave the Queen an
unsettled look. She needed the Queen’s permission to go with him. She knew that
she was a prisoner, a hostage of the Queen.
Cersei’s green eyes linked with Sansa’s. She started to smile with her flawless
lips and gave her a nod. There it was, the permission to leave.
The left the hall through the heavy door, making their way through the
corridors. The candels on the walls spend them light, but they flickered as a
cold gasp of air crepped the corridors. The wind outside was screaming loudly,
sounding like a crying child. Sansa got gossebumps. She tried to make
eyecontact with Lord Bealish, but he just walked beside her, his steps silent
and fast on the dark stone floor, which reflected the light hazy.
Finally, he slowed down. Sansa still had no clue what the reason was for her
sudden departure with Lord Baelish, but she supposed it wasn't a good one. The
entire situation was very unpeasant. She wished it would end as soon as
possible, so tht she could crawl back into her bed, waiting for better times.
The nescience had slowly increased Sansa's nervousness. She felt knots in her
stomach growing with each step. She knew Littlefinger, she knew about the
feelings he’d felt for her mother a long time ago.
Suddenly she was hopeful again, believing in a happy ending. This little spark
of hope vanished when she thought about her situation. He, too, belonged to the
Queen, as did Varys and Joffrey. The queen would never let her escape.
They finally had reached his cambers, heading into his solar. The door murmured
when they stepped through it. In his room, she noticed the sweet smell of
spiced wine and flowers. Finally the silence between them was broken.
 
"Why have you brought me here, Lord Baelish?" Sansa asked as she slowly walked
in the direction of the desk covered with paper and letters. She sat down on
the with black leather covered chair in front of the desk and crossed her legs.
The way he looked at her made her shiver. For a few moments she thought she had
seen desire in his eyes, but she had to be wrong. The imprisonment, always
being watched by Cersei and her hate for Joffrey already made her see things
which weren't there.
"You know how risky the situation here is?" sighed Petyr. He smiled and
continued. "Besides that, I suppose you know that you are the Queen's hostage.
One of the most important hostages in this big, sick game.The Queen is sending
you to Dorne, so that she won't lose her most important leverage." Sansa froze.
She was so confident about the fact, that she was going to be released. She
swallowed hard and started to play with a strand of copper hair.
"And how did I come to have the honor of having this message delivered by the
Master of Coin, My Lord?" He motioned for her to stand, and did the same thing
himself, heading to Sansa's side of the desk. He stopped when he was standing 
only a few steps away from her.
Lord Baelish took her pale face in both of his hands and pushed her softly to
the edge of his desk, forced her to make eye contact, which she was trying to
avoid so badly. The beguiling smell of spiced wine hit her even more intensely
than before and she realized that Baelish was the source of it, not his room.
Sansa liked the smell, wanted to never stop inhaling it. Grey eyes made contact
with blue.
"I'll accompany you." his voice was gentle and made Sansa's heart jump a
little. She was feeling a strange, unfamiliar feeling, deep in her stomach. 
Sansa’s facade broke into pieces. She was so utterly done with everything. The
War, her monster of a husband, the isolation she was living in and her father.
Most of all her father. Tears streamed down her blushing cheeks.
Petyr looked like he would have expected that. Her silent crying grew to a
crying fit. When he wrapped his arms around her waist, Sansa forgot, only for a
few seconds, that the man in front of her was as much of a stranger to her as
anyone else in the castle and let his strong arms caress her.
Her lungs seemed to fail and she tried to force her breath down to them,
gasping for air. She wrapped her arms even tighter around him and hoped that
she wouldn't bruise him, buried her face in the curve of his neck.  She left
the hug after a short eternity and wiped the last few tears off her face.
He was watching her with neither pity nor amusement. Sansa was surprised at how
pleasantly the man in front of her handled her moment of weakness. He seemed to
understand, to know.
At least he was asking no questions, which Sansa knew was very unusual for
Littlefinger. There was no man in all the seven kingdoms that liked hearing the
sound of his own voice more than Petyr Baelish.
"Our ships set sails tomorrow morning, sweetling. Try to get some sleep." He
smiled weakly and kissed her forehead. "Dream well, Sansa Stark."
 
 
***** Queen of horizon *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The next day, she was standing on deck of the Queen of the Horizon before
sunrise. She watched how the white fluffy clouds slowly moved in front of the
sun and immediately changed color from the clean white to dark red. Blood red,
was Sansa's first thought, or the deep red of wine. King’s Landing was waking
up from its deep sleep. People began to build their booths in the market, the
first diligent fishermen left the port with their small boats.
Shutters were opened up and some infants started to cry. She was in the middle
of it all. She felt the heartbeat of the city clearly, for the first time since
she arrived there. The ship she was standing on was for its size rather
lonesome. Some of the tiny fishing boats around the Queen seemed like they had
more people on them than the enormous ship, Sansa was standing on. The young
girl inhaled the cold morning air, which pureness let her brain finally awake
fully.
She turned her head from the stunning sunrise to the narrow door, which
directly led into the belly of the ship. Its inside consisted of many corridors
and rooms, which were covered with deep red carpets, they really looked like
the veins and muscles of some big scary animal.
I hope it won't swallow and digest me, she thought internally. The Queen of the
Horizon belonged to Lord Baelish; that was as obvious as the fact that Arya was
her father's daughter. The wide leather furniture present in every room and the
heavy curtains in front of every window made the rooms appear dark, even when
the sun shined with all its power. There was that sweet smell of spiced wine
everywhere. Again. Time to time Sansa asked herself why she had never seen Lord
Baelish being drunk. Literally everything that this man touched seemed to be
taken over with this sweetish smell.
Beside the servants, there were a bunch of wine dealers. Even they worked for
Lord Baelish. That's why he smells like wine all the time, his entire existence
is constructed of wine and whores, Sansa realized, but she couldn't blame him.
It's weird that there was still use for wine. People were starving, fighting to
stay alive, and at the same time other people still had the time and money to
drink expensive wine.
After she turned away from the horizon, she realized that it was not the deck
of the ship that smelled like Littlefinger so intensely. No, Petyr himself
stood a few steps behind her. After Sansa noticed him, he stepped closer. He
leaned his slender body against the railing next to her, smiling tiredly. "I
always liked sunrises better than sunsets, they're the beginning of everything.
They are the ending too. The ending of darkness. It's fascinating." Sansa
remembered the usual greyness of the sky in Winterfell and hesitated.
"What does this all mean, My Lord?" Her hair was messed up by the wind and she
had to pull the strands out of her face every few seconds.
"Call me Petyr. You may leave the formalities in Kings Landing, Sansa." Sansa
noticed how he avoided her question. He knows more than me, so much more. She
tried to act charming, just like him. She smiled, tried to look him as deep in
the eyes as possible, put pressure on him. "What does all of this mean, Petyr?"
"I already told you the most important things, let the rest be my burden." He
avoided her question again and Sansa knew that there was no sense in asking him
another time.
"Do you want to dance?" Sansa felt irritated. What's the matter with you, Lord
Baelish? What are you hiding from me?Was she in any position to reject the
offer? She was on his ship, with his servants, and wouldn't get much other
company for the next time. Besides that, she wanted to feel his touch again.
It seemed strange to dance on a ship without music and without any real reason
to dance. Sansa knew that Lord Baelish wouldn't ever breach her personal space
without her permission. She gave him a nod and Petyr Baelish wrapped his hands
around her waist, just like the night before. He came closer, and for a moment
she thought that their lips would collide. Then, he started to whisper, and his
steps got faster.
"We are being watched, sweet Sansa. You are not safe, not as long as we are in
King’s Landing. Maybe even not after that. Even on this ship, Varys and the
Queen have their eyes everywhere." They were still dancing in circles, and the
wood creaked underneath their feet. As soon as the ship began to slide out of
the port, she realized what this change meant for her.
I could escape, maybe. The Queen is so far away. Because of this insight, she
began to wonder if the events of the last few hours were real. Her blue dress,
which crinkled in the lukewarm wind, was the only thing which felt real. And
him. His glances, his caring, the way he talked to her.
Sansa couldn’t control her feelings anymore. Was he really looking at her that
way? She didn't want to be the sweet child anymore, no, she wanted him to see
her as woman. Sansa Stark. She wanted to be seen by him, she enjoyed the
glances that he was giving her more and more often. A few weeks before, Sansa
had come to Kings Landing, full of love for Joffrey, admiring the Queen, so
naive and weak. But now she was broken, she didn't want to live by the rules
anymore, the rules of this stupid game. Sansa wanted to live.
 
 
Chapter End Notes
     My gratitude to the amazing klug3 for helping me on so many levels by
     being my beta. :)
***** Captain Who? *****
The days were calm and ordered, everybody was minding his own business. The
Queen of the Horizon rocked constantly back and forth, again and again. The
rhythm made Sansa feel like a newborn in its mother's hands. She slept most of
the time, a dreamless sleep. The girl buried her body into soft, nice smelling
sheets and hoped that the peace she felt in these moments will stay forever.
After some time she realized that she had to leave the bed and sighed.
 She
fled from the comfortable warmth and handed herself over to the freezing cold
air outside. There she stood, waiting for something to happen. Or somebody to
appear. Sansa always assumed that the sea is a thrilling place, full of
adventures and dangers. The only dangerous thing near this ship was eventually
the water, if you couldn't swim.
Everybody was busy all day. They cooked, cleaned, sailed, discussed and
insulted each other. Sansa watched them, maybe even wished she could be like
them. The men came from different exotic and not-so-exotic places. Two maids
had iron coloured hair, it looked like it was made out of split swords, but it
fell soft and wavy over their shoulders. Sansa wondered if they were two of
Lttlefinger's whores.
Some of them started conversation, compliments were given and curtsies were
swept.
 Every time Sansa tried to introduce herself, people started giggling.
"I already know you, Lady Stark," one of the girls with the amazing hair said,
and her big blue eyes sparkled. All these people know me, and already knew me
before I stepped over the threshold of this ship, and I can’t even remember
their names, she realized, feeling aggrieved. Not just Varys, the spider, or
Lord Baelish, but all these people with their foreign dialects knew her story,
too. She herself knew so little, never would know as much about the wine
dealers, maids nor over Lord Baelish as they knew about her.
Lord Baelish was absent most of he time, and there was a moment where she
thought maybe he was killed and thrown over board. She asked one of the
servants were he was, trying not to sound too interested.
“He is probably just busy, M'lady.” the servant sighed. Sansa immediately felt
pathetic for asking such things, she knew that he had to mind his own business.
Suddenly felt like a clingy child.
 
The next day, a thunderstorm was coming. The blue sky turned black like the
clothes of the brothers of the Night’s Watch, and deluge of water rose, trying
to devour the ship. The waves' cold hands slapped on the board again and again,
scratched with their fingers on the wooden planks. Even the wind showed a
particular brutality, and hit with odd powers against the length of the ship,
made it shake. The people hid in the belly of the rattling ship. Sansa and some
of the winedealersand servants, stayed in a big room full with pillows made of
silk and old paintings of dragons, the first people and other creatures from
other times, darker times.
Gradually, she started to recognize the names of people down there.There was
Quaox Xho with his followers from Braavos. Quaox himself had a dyed-red beard,
which framed his face like flames. His clothes were made out of green silk,
streaked with gold thread. Though his friends had brightly dyed beards too,
nobody looked even nearly as fancy as Quaox did. They had dark skin and brown
eyes. Sansa liked the deep, calm voice they always spoke with. Not like
Joffrey's cawing,she said to herself. They radiated the same calmness like her
father once did. Thinking about her father made Sansa feel the hole inside her
stomach again. She was no longer able to recall her father’s at all. It seemed
like his death had happened centuries ago, back then, when everything was okay.
Sansa sometimes dreamed of waking up. Waking up beneath Lady, feeling her
warmth, in her own room in Winterfell. Seeing Ayra, acting like a wilding. She
hated having to be with her little sister that times. Now she would kill to see
her tousled, sweaty hair and touch her dirty hands.
Among the men from of King’s Landing were a bunch of shady knights. Sir Rolland
Castlefell, a chubby man with a bold head was the most annoying and loudest of
all the men in the room. Sir Wender Reinhorn and Sir Prat Bloud, two very
humble looking man, stayed in the background, while their hairless friend was
screaming and making dirty jokes.
Slowly the mood in the room improved. Some men started to sing, while some of
the Braavosi opened the first gallons of wine.
Love on sea, oh oh.
As stormy as the sea itself, oh oh.
You can try to paddle and swim, oh oh.
But you will drown deep in her, oh oh.
 
Though men sang too loud and wrong, and the song didn't rhyme at all, Sansa was
relieved that she didn't need to make conversation. The song stopped after
three verses, she wasn't sure if the song actually ended or if thee man were
just too drunk to sing any longer. Now all the men were shouting and Sansa's
eyes captured the two maids with the silver hair sitting on the lap of a
laughing Braavosi.
Suddenly she started to panic. “I need fresh air”, she screamed internally. She
felt how the ship still rapidly moved, but everything was far better than being
mistreated by eyes of the drunken men.
She stepped out on the corridor leaning against the wooden walls, trying to
balance her body step by step. Slowly she climbed the narrow stairs, and when
she opened the last door that lead directly to the board, harsh wind blew in
her face and colored her pale cheeks red.
She balanced on the slippery planks, when an old rough voice behind her
murmured: “What are you doing here, milady?“
Sansa flinched. She forgot that a ship couldn't sail itself. When she turned
around, a man, who was as rough and old as his voice was, stood in front of
her. His face was wrinkled and lined from the many years on the sea and a long,
bushy and white beard grew on the wrinkles like weeds.
“I just wanted some fresh air, My Lord.“ Sansa replied. The old man laughed, a
heavy raspy laugh.
“I'm the last one you should ever call Lord,” he jerked his eyebrows, “however,
you will get a cold out here, milady.”
Sansa looked down on her and her thin dress. The old captain is right.
“It's really cold, yes. I probably should go to my chamber...” before Sansa
could end the conversation, he broke the eye contact, and started to examine
the board they were standing on. “What are looking for?“,Sansa inquired. The
old man seemed to fight with his emotions, then his face showed a new emotion.
Fear.Sansa knew fear when she saw it.
“Take care of yourself, Sansa. Listen, I'm begging you. Trust nobody,
especially not Petyr Baeleish. He is more dangerous than you could ever
imagine,” he whispered.
He is mad, Sansa thought. The many years on the sea made his brain all soft and
confused.
“I don't thing that Lord Bealish is a danger to any of us. Who are you,
anyway?” Sansa demanded, and rubbed her ice cold hands. It was really cold.
 “Not important. I'm a friend of the north, you have to…” His words were
interrupted by slow, steady steps. They turned around in the same second.
 
 
 
***** Burning Desires *****
 
Standing in front of them was Quaox. His red beard, flickering in the rough
wind seemed to be alive, and for a second Sansa feared that his face was on
fire. Grimly he stared at them, and murmured with his deep voice,

“You shouldn't talk to this man, child.” He eyed Sansa, facing her motionless,
and it seemed like he doesn't noted the presence of the old, bearded man next
to her at all. Sansa felt her blood pumping faster, imagining how red her face
must be.
It's not ladylike,she told herself, but bloody hell, why is everybody on this
ship acting so terribly strange? This is worse than Kings landing. At least
there I knew that I couldn't trust anybody. She felt rage, balling her hands
into fists. The coldness in her body was completely gone.
“What do you want from me? I come here to get some fresh air, and distance, and
you just cant leave me alone.” she cried out, and her voice was shaking. “I
don't... I don't even care if everybody on this bloody ship is dangerous, I
don't care. Just leave me alone.” Her knuckles emerged white on her fists and
her eyes were full of fatigue. The men starred at her, shattered and silent.
Until Quaox started to laugh. His laugh sounded like two heavy stones colliding
with each other, again and again. That made Sansa even angrier than before, but
nobody seemed to care.
“Well, somebody has quite a temper here. I should have known, redhead.” he
joked with a massive grin resting in the midst of his beard. When Sansa turned
her head to ascertain how the Captain reacted to this crude behavior, she saw
that he had vanished.
“Where is he...” she stumbled shifting her gaze in all possible directions. The
old man with the long white beard and the wrinkled face who was standing next
to her the second before was gone.
“But that is completely impossible, there is no other exit than this door here.
Is he... Did he, jump overboard? Oh seven gods, somebody has to save him!”
Sansa panicked at aimed to shout for help, when Quaox covered her mouth with
his scraggly hands.
 
“Sush, it alright.” he removed his hands from Sansas face and she remained in
silence, waiting for explanations.
“May I introduce myself, milady?” he questioned sarcastic. He bowed and
continued:
“I'm Quaox Matartzy Xho, son of Meweray Xho. Captain of this ship.”
Sansa immediately felt sick.The mother may safe me,She started to pray
soundlessly.
 
 
 
===============================================================================
 
 
Petyr starred at the dead mahogany walls of his chamber. Dead, he said to
himself. It was important. So important. Walls of chambers always had been
important. They had eyes, and creatures hidden on the insides, sneaking around
behind them. But these walls were dead, and they couldn't hear or see him. At
some point he was just like them. Dead. He thought of the many times he tried
to feel alive, but he just couldn't. There was only a big rock inside his
chest, even if he pretended it is not there. Even Cat, sweet Catelyn, never was
able to move that rock. Maybe she lifted it. Maybe he really tried to move it
away by himself, but he couldn't. If he could have felt guilt, he perhaps would
have felt guilty about betraying her daughter. He really liked Sansa, he didn't
know if it was because of her semblance to her mother or her innocence, being
the contrary to the whores in his brothels.

He thought of the moment in his chambers before Sansa started to weep
hysterically. If she hadn’t started to cry at that moment, he would have taken
her right on his desk. Hard as a rock, he leaned against her, his cock
twitching in the urgent necessity of release. But then she started to cry and
bloody hugged him, rubbing his stiff member painfully against her flat stomach,
weeping in the back of his neck. And she didn't even notice, seven hells,he
railed to himself, stroking his beard with one of his slender hands.
He nearly came against her stomach, silently forming curses with his lips. He
had to wait until she left to get release, rubbing his length like a young boy
who had never had a woman before. He could have taken her, but he didn't. Petyr
wondered why, because he obviously desired the young girl with the auburn hair.
Normally he got what he wanted. Or simply took it. That was another resemblance
of Sansa to her mother, their elusiveness. Maybe that was the thing making his
cock so painfully hard. Just thinking of it let him feel tightness in his
crotch. He would have fully grown again, but somebody started rapping on his
door with unneeded violence.
Petyr sighed, and looked down his green tunic. So apparently you have to wait,
my friend. Again,he murmured internally, hailing the brutal door abuser to step
in.

It was Quaox, standing in the doorframe with his usual smirk resting on his
face.
“Of course, it's you! Who else could beat up doors with such passion? I'm glad
it's you, Xho.” Petyr sighed, looking at his old friend. Quaox Xho was the only
person he trusted on the entire ship. Maybe that was foolish, but sometimes
even the biggest liars had to trust allies, it all was part of the wicked game.
He aimed him to lower on the leather chair in front of him.

“Petyr, they sent someone. I don't know if it was an assassin or just a spy or
whatever, but he nearly got her. The young Stark.” he sputtered after he sat
down and his wide grin disappeared. Lord Baelish remained motionless, but on
the inside he fasted to boiling: This stupid, royal whore, we had a plan.
“Is she alright?” he questioned distantly, secretly clawing his finger in his
chair.

“Well, yes. She had a mental breakdown, but she's not physically hurt. Locked
herself in her chamber, refuses to see anybody. I think she as some serious
trusting issues now, which is not exactly the best requirement for your plans,
my friend. ”
As if you would know my plans, Petyr laughed internally. He trusted Quaox, but
he was no Idiot.
“Thank you,” he murmured, loosening his grip on the chair. He was relieved that
the little bird's pretty face wasn't hurt; he liked it as neat and ivory toned
as it was.
 “I will reward you later. I'm going to go and see her. I could bring her out
of her cage once, why not a second time?” he joked, jumping sleekly of his
chair, with the elegance of a cat. His friend was wary:
“Against her will?” 
Petyr smiled mischievously. “She will open up for me.”
 
 
 


***** Unwanted Powers *****
 
 When there was a knock at the door, Sansa’s heart stood still for a moment.
She hadn’t expected anyone else to visit her, trying to force her to leave her
cabin. She had already dismissed four different people, making her wishes
explicitly clear, stating that they would leave her alone for a little while.
Sansa didn’t plan to leave her save haven within the next few hours, not even
for all the Gold in Lennishort.
 It knocked again. Her head ached, making her rub her forehead.
 “Come in.”
 The door swung open, and Lord Baelish stepped in. Sansa wasn’t surprised at
all. She expected that he would visit her sooner or later. But at that moment,
when he finally was standing in front of her she felt embarrassed, like she
betrayed the man who helped her several times, like she was acting like a
stubborn child.
 “Sansa,” his voice never sounded so cold before.
 “What exactly do you think you’re doing?”
 “What do you mean?” she looked down at her dress fixing the wrinkles on her
skirt.
 Petyr closed the door and sat down next to her on the bed. “I mean,” he said,
touching the mockingbird pin on his chest, “that you’re acting incredibly
mindless. I expected better of you. You’re blaming the wrong people, while
being rude to the ones who obviously are trying to help you. That’s not how you
play. ”
 “I don’t want to play games anyways.” Sansa regretted her words the second she
had spoken them out loud. Hands were dragged around her neck, forcing her to
face the Master of Coin’s grey eyes.
 “Oh, you should really think twice about this. You’ve been playing that bloody
game since your birth. It’s called life, silly. ” The grip on her neck grew
tighter. It got harder and harder to breathe.
 “Stop it.” she demanded and tried to escape his hands, failing even to move an
inch.
 “You should start acting like a grown-up, or the game will be over, sooner
than you think.” he said, his face and voice remaining emotionless. Sansa could
barely breathe anymore, her lungs were craving air. She tried to put all of her
strength in pushing the man away, with no success.
 “You’re killing me!” Sansa whimpered, using her last breath. She desperately
tried to hold back her tears. “Is that what you were planning from the
beginning?” Petyr’s hands flinched back as if he accidently would have touched
an hot cooking pot. His eyes looked pitiful, but the rest of his face remained
blank. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I suppose I lost control for a second. I
didn’t mean to hurt you.”
 Her fingertips slowly slid across her aching neck, trying to massage the sharp
pain away. Sansa’ breath was still loud and heavy, and she had to cough every
time she inhaled too quickly.  She stood up from the bed and the world twisted
and warped around her. She braced herself against the wall. Sansa turned her
back to Littlefinger.
 “What do you want me to do then?” she whispered, balling her free hand, the
one that wasn’t supporting her, into a fist.
 “Just stop acting so foolish. Start trusting the right people.” Sansa heard
him stand up from her bed. “We’re arriving in Dorne within the next few hours.
Make yourself ready.”
 Sansa nodded while she still was gazing at the wall. She opened the mouth,
aiming to say something but the words seemed to disappear, to get lost
somewhere in her throat. Lord Baelish has already opened the door and has
halfway left the room when Sansa found them again.
 “Why am I going there, my lord? I mean, of course I appreciate all of this,
but I don’t understand why. What shall I do there? Has this something to do
with Joffrey?” Sansa sat down on her bed again, smoothing the wrinkles on her
pillow. “I would be more than grateful if you could tell me what is going to
happen, Lord Baelish.” Littlefinger turned around on the doorstep and stepped
into the room again. He draw closer to Sansa and then knelt to be at eye level
with the girl sitting on the bed. He smiled one of his smiles, one of those
that don’t seem to reach his eyes.
 “You are going to be Queen, aren’t you? You can’t hide, especially after what
happened to you father. You have to win the people’s sympathies,” he raised one
corner of his mouth. “And Dorne is a great place to start isn’t it?”
 
Sansa didn’t believe him.
 
***** The Sun Of Dorne *****
 
They were sitting on a wide balcony, which shadow saved them from the cruel sun
that shined on Dorne’s streets most of the day. Sansa wasn’t by herself. A
smirking young man and a girl were sitting next to Sansa on the heavy stone
table.
“You’re even more beautiful than they say,” said the boy with the big grin and
black curly hair to Sansa. She noticed the angry look the girl next to him gave
her. She twisted her black hair with her slender fingers and pressed her lips
together. Sansa laughed internally, she noticed that she was just like this
girl some time ago. Worrying about love, being jealous. Waiting for her prince
to come.
 
Her prince. Joffrey. He came and took all she loved. In old times, Sansa maybe
even would have been angry about the fact that the girl’s features were
probably more beautiful than hers and her hair looked like black silk. It was a
great risk the girl made by looking at her like that; all in all she was still
the future queen. Sansa eyed the table in front of her; three seats were still
empty. There were extraordinary crafted carafes, filled with all different
kinds of juices.  Around every one of them winded a golden snake, looking like
it was aiming to drink. She has tried some of the juices, and barley could
recognize any of the contents. Sansa would have tried them all, but after she
tasted a greenish one, and it was utterly disgusting, the Stark girl decided to
touch those carafes never again.
When there was the rattling of swords against body amour, she know that the
three empty chairs were soon going to be occupied. The heavy door at the other
end of the balcony was abruptly opened and the reason she has travelled to
Dorne stood in front of her.  Two of them were standing, one of them was
sitting in a chair with rolls. It was Prince Doran.
 
 Petyr told her the most important things, earlier, before they have left the
Queen of the horizon. Now he was standing behind Prince Doran, looking with a
pleased smile at Sansa. The third man was Oberyn Martell, brother of Prince
Doran. Sansa knew that he had big influence and was unpredictable, and she
didn’t even had to hear it from Lord Baelish to know that. Even Old Nan had
told her and her siblings stories about the Viper. Now, when he was standing in
front of her, she couldn’t believe that that was the man out of all the
stories. The man who killed dozens of men and women with his poisonous spear.
Oberyn, the Oberyn, who has an army out of bastard daughters who all can fight
like knights. Oberyn Martell, who hates her husband’s family more than anything
else in this word.
 He had something incredibly charming in his appearance. He wasn’t really
beautiful, not like Joffrey with his big lips and golden hair. No, he looked
quite average, but there still was something noble in his face. His body was
quite muscular but still slender. And Sansa believed to see kindness in his
face, kindness she never thought he would he would show her, the new member of
the Lennister family.
 He was the first one who bowed down before her too. After all what Sansa heard
from him, that was a gesture which she even had expected less. She always had
the impression that Oberyn Martell was a man who wouldn’t bow for anybody, not
even for his gods. Maybe she had been wrong.
 “It’s an honor, Mylady”, he purred as his head lowered for the future queen.
“The honor is on my side, I’ve heard lots of stories about you.” Sansa replied
immediately and tried to put her prettiest smile on.  After they sat down at
the table, the man in the chair with wheels, who happened to be the Prince of
Dorne, raised his voice.
 “Yes, we’re all very honored. I hope you can accept that I despise such
formalities. This isn’t Kings Landing, Mylady. We all can speak freely under
the roofs of my house, I promise.” His voice was dull and silent, reminding
Sansa of Lord Bolton’s ghostlike whispering. Doran’s whole appearance was very
ghostlike, his face seemed to be bloodless, in the light of the balcony they
were sitting on even shine-through. His black hair let him appear even paler,
making him look like one of Sansa’s porcelain dolls, she played with back then
when she was a child in Winterfell.
 “Beloved brother, I beg you. There is nothing wrong with introducing yourself.
Don’t let us look like wildlings.” His words were soft, but his voice sounded
harsh. After those words there was a short, uncomfortable silence. Like so
often, Petyr Baelish ended it.
 “Oh, I’m sure Lady Sansa would never think like that.” he smirked, fixed
Oberyn with his eyes, not even taking note of Sansa. It seemed like she would
have disappeared for him. That made her finger clench tighter around the glass,
which was still half full with the disgusting green juice.
 “How would you know?” Oberyn’s words suddenly went as harsh as his voice. His
eyes had a dangerous glance. “You know what I hate?”
 That wasn’t a question. Petyr didn’t replied. The entire situation has
changed. Sansa saw nervousness, even on Prince Dorans face. However, Oberyn
Martell was still smiling like he saw the maid herself.
 “People who speak for people, who can speak for themselves,” his grin grew
bigger.
 “And?” Petyr’s voice sounded calm and warm, like Oberyn would have made him a
compliment.
 Oberyn pointed on Sansa. For a second Sansa felt like she would start crying.
Why would he hate her so suddenly without knowing her? He didn’t seemed to hate
her when he stepped in.
 “That bloody juice. You didn’t actually drink it, did you? I’d rather drink
piss than that.” He still was pointing at Sansa. At her glass.
All of a sudden he started to laugh, and she was sure that she never heard such
a beautiful laugh before. It was warm and honest, and he was laughing with all
of his body, whilst looking at Sansa. She smiled, too. And this time she didn’t
smiled to look pretty.
That surprised her. Sansa wasn’t able to recall the last time she smiled
because she was happy or amused.
 The following two hours they spend talking about things that weren’t
important, whilst being kissed by the red afternoon sun. The girl and the boy
who sat next to Sansa, turned out to be one of Oberyn’s bastard daughters and
Prince Doran’s son.
They talked about Winterfell, Kingslanding, dragons and wine.  When they
finished, the warming light was gone and the first stars appeared over the sky
of Sunspear.
***** Meeting The Viper *****
The plants bathed in the burning sun, absorbed its warmth. The air has reached
a temperature where even rocks seemed to start sweating. With every breeze of
air, tons of sand were blown from one place to another. Hardly anyone showed on
the streets, this kind of weather was even for Sunspear more than unusual. Even
the birds stopped to sing, and rested in the shadow of big palm trees.
 Sansa and Oberyn were the only ones who were strolling around in the gardens.
The young girl was surprised about the invention she had gotten after they had
fished the meal yestereve.
When Oberyn Matell had asked her to meet him tomorrow in the gardens, she
couldn’t reject that offer. However, she noticed the steely glance in Petyr’s
eyes when she replied with a nod. Since then she feared that she would have
made a terrible mistake. 
Oberyn had awaited her up in front of her chambers, wearing thin yellow silk
tunica with didn’t fully cover his muscular chest. They had linked arms and
Oberyn had pulled her out into the heat of Sunspear.
 “Are you good, Mylady?” he asked, while walking down the small path with was
surrounded by orange and lilac flowers, which sweet smell seemed to drug her.
Sansa was puzzled why he would ask her this.
“Not much has changed since you asked me yesterday.” the Stark replied, still
inhaling the sweet smell.
“Maybe you weren’t able to speak freely. Now you are.” he said. They stepped
through a gate out of trees. There were a variety of different trees, all
bending forward, forming a dome. In the middle of it was a white fountain,
tooled with golden runes. The heat seemed to fade and was replaced by
pleasurable coldness.
“This is beautiful.” Sansa whispered, turning her head up and down. She stepped
further into the dome, leaving Oberyn’s arm.
“How do you get the trees to grow like that?”
Oberyn smiled: “We have some really good gardeners here in Dorne, they could do
absolutely everything concerning trees. Well, my brother pays a fortune for
them, so they better do their work probably, eh?”
Sansa wasn’t sure if it was the accent, but she believed every word he spoke.
He grabbed her hand when he walked past her, so that she had to make a little
turn when she followed him. They walked towards the fountain. They sat down on
the edge of it. He didn’t released her hand when they were sitting, which let
Sansa feel all tingly. When he looked at his face, she sensed guiltiness in his
eyes.
“Look at those trees.” he said, pointing at the trees which the dome consisted
of. “They mean to represent the different regions of our world. He pointed at a
heart tree. “It means to represent the north. Your house. Your gods.” After he
explained the majority of them, he raised his and Sansa’s hand, cupping it
fully with both hands.
“We need to unite, Lady Sansa.” he said, his eyes looking sad. “We need to
unite the North and Dorne. To get revenge. Revenge for your father. My sister.
Your younger brothers.”
Sansa couldn’t believe what he just said.
“My brothers?” she asked, her voice shaking. She freed her hand from Oberyn’s.
He didn’t answer, he just sat there and studied her face.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Sansa exactly knew what it was supposed to
mean. She jumped on her feet.
“Excuse me,” she murmured as she ran out of the dome. Before she even could
leave it, her cheeks were already wet of tears.
 ---
 
She thought she was going to lock herself in her chambers. Again. Instead she
run to Lord Baelish’s rooms. She didn’t knock.
He was reading some papers, when she rushed in. Petyr Baelish gave her a
surprised look.
“Sansa-,” he said, but this time she didn’t let him finish.
“You didn’t tell me. Nobody told me.” Her voice was still shaking, and her
stomach had problems with keeping her breakfast.
Petyr stood up and walked towards her.
“What did he told you?” he asked, stepping through the bright room. Sansa knew
that she had to be careful. She didn’t know on which side Littlefinger actually
stood.
“Enough.” she nearly screamed.
“You can trust me, Sansa.” the way he spoke made her believe his words.
“He wants an alliance. And he told me…about Rickon and Bran.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” Littlefinger lied with a rough voice. He stood only
two steps away from the Stark girl.
“And what about the alliance?” he asked, laying one of his hands on her cheek.
“What do you mean?” Sansa asked.
“Do you want him?” he replied. Sansa thought of Oberyn’s muscular chest, his
kind eyes and his accent. The tingling she felt when he took her hand. Maybe
she wanted him.
She didn’t replied.
 
***** Wounded Pleasure *****
Chapter Notes
     [ SMUT WARNING: This chapter contains P18 smut. I'm in love with this
     chapter and really tried my best, but since it hasn't been beta-ed
     yet (I couldn't wait to share it with you), It could contain some
     spelling/grammar errors. However, enjoy my incredibly awkward smut.]
 
“He can’t have you, Sansa.” Petyr purred. Sansa noticed the angry glare in his
eyes again. She thought that it would be over now. That Oberyn would be
executed as traitor and that she would be sent to Kingslanding again
immediately.
 
But then he pushed her against the wall, pressing the warmth of his body
against hers, their lips nearly colliding. Sharing their breath.
“He won’t get you, sweetling. I won’t let him do that” he murmured. Their lips
meet, wet and hot, to a hungry kiss. When they split again, his lips wandered
down her neck, leaving a trail of red marks. Somehow he seemed to know where to
suck to let her mouth escape moans. Sansa didn’t tried to escape his hands
anymore, she just concentrated on the pleasurable pain which was running
through her body.
When their heated lips finally met again, he grabbed her wrists and dragged her
across the room to the huge balcony bed. He pinned her down at her wrists into
the white sheets. For a second, his face looked like he would have decided to
leave Sansa.
“Don’t stop.” Sansa said breathlessly, with blushed cheeks. “Please.”
This words seemed to amuse him. However, he didn’t smile. It were his eyes
which revealed his true emotion, Sansa had discovered that a while ago. He
started unlacing her dress, his fingers working fast and skilled.
“You need to stop wearing hard-removable dresses like this, love.” he said
emotionless. Sansa tried not to think about all the other women he already had.
Suddenly she felt incredibly jealous, but that didn’t last long.
Littlefinger had finally unlaced her dress, removing all the silk from her
body, tearing it down her slender body like it would be poisonous. Sansa
blushed when she noticed that she was naked. She tried to cover her breasts
with her hands, but Petyr instantly pinned her wrists down again.
“You’re breathtaking, don’t ever try to cover you again when you’re with me.”
he whispered, his voice soft as the kisses that followed. Slowly, his lips
wandered down her neck. That time, he didn’t stopped there. When his mouth has
reached her chest, he carefully kissed her nipples, making them hard instantly.
Sansa gasped for air. When he saw that reaction, he took one of them in his
mouth. First he sucked lightly, but soon he started to carefully bite it. At
this point Sansa screamed out her moans, her hips buckling wildly.
“Oh seven gods!” she whimpered. Petyr reacted with removing his hands from her
wrists, he knew that she would leave them where he wants her to. One of his
hands wandered down her stomach, sliding between her legs. When he started
drawing circles with her clit, the new sensation made Sansa’s fingers claw into
the sheets.
“You like that, huh?” Petyr smiled hungrily. “You’re all wet. What a naughty
girl.” Sansa’s hips arched  when he inserted two fingers into her. For some
moments his fingers slide in and out, making Sansa cry out curses, but then he
stopped. Sansa immediately missed the touch down there, and groaned silently.
When Petyr rolled over on his back, she suddenly was afraid. Sansa had
fantasies about it since she had stepped on the ship. She didn’t want to mess
things up somehow.
Sansa crawled on him, starting to unlace his pants. She was sitting on his legs
with spread legs, rubbing herself against his trousers, what let her breath
hitch.
Her hands weren’t as calm as his; they were shaking and had problems with
untying the laces. Petyr was hard like a rock, and Sansa noticed the dangerous
glare in his face again. She didn’t know what she had done wrong.
His erection sprung free, Sansa’s eyes went bigger. She wanted to stop the
aching between her legs so bed, but was afraid of his length. Just two of his
fingers could make her scream, what would do his cock to her?
“I ruined your pants,” she gasped seriously worried, with innocent big eyes,
when she looked down on the wet spot, which her humping has caused.
That seemed to let Petyr’s last restraint vanish. He rolled around, turning
Sansa on her back faster than she could notice. They kissed passionately, their
tongues danced. Petyr bit her under lip, nibbling on it softly.
Sansa gasped when she felt the tip of his manhood rubbing against her soaking
entrance.
“You really do want Oberyn Martell, Sansa?” he groaned, in a husky voice. His
grey eyes seemed to turn darker. “Maybe he should finish you off. I could sent
you to him. “
He smiled sadistically. Feeling his cock being so close, rubbing against her,
was like torture to Sansa.
“Please.” she whispered, while she spread her legs wider. Her entire body was
flushed and covered in sweat, waiting for release.
“You sure that you want that alliance?” he asked sarcastically, now rubbing the
entire length of his shaft against her, making her hips buckle up. Her eyes
were tightly closed.
“I need you. Please,” she sputtered, grabbing his soft woolen tunic. “Fuck me,
please. Petyr.”
 
When he slowly slid inside her, Sansa thought she would explode. The new
sensation of fullness made her scream, half out of pain and half because of the
pleasure she felt. Apparently she wasn’t alone with her feelings. Petyr’s mouth
escaped a deep groan.
“By the gods, you’re so tight.” he gasped weakly, slowly moving in her. Sansa
digged her nails harder into Petyr’s clothes. “You alright?”
“It’s just…” Sansa’s words were interrupted by her own shaking moan, when
Littlefinger’s hand started to draw hard circles on her clit. The pain vanished
more and more and Petyr started to increase the speed of his thrusts, hitting
her sweet spot. He pounded into her, setting a rhythm which made her eyes roll
back, while she screamed out curses.
Not much later she was whimpering his name, with every deep thrust he made.
 
“Oh Petyr…by the seven…” she muttered. Her climax hit her unexpected like a
lightning, making her cry out his name, so loud that she feared everyone in
Sunspear would have heard it. Her entire body was flooded by a wave of
pleasure, making her body weak and shivering, while he still pounded hard and
deep into her a few times. Feeling her muscles clench around his cock pushed
Petyr over the edge, too, thrusting one more time deep into the young copper-
haired girl, spilling his hot seems into her stomach. They kissed, lips only
brushing lightly, before he rolled over on his back again.
 Sansa felt too weak to move, her entire body was still shaking from the orgasm
she just had. With a weak smile she turned to Petyr, wanted to lay her arms
around him, undress him and feel his warm body press against hers. He was
already finished with chording the laces of his pants again, sitting up in the
bed.
When he noticed the disappointed look on her face, he dragged the naked girl on
his lap, and kissed her heavily, massaging her tongue with his. His hands laid
around her, sliding down her back and caressed her ass.
“Sweetling,” he murmured looking at Sansa hungrily “I have to work, but I want
you to stay. Nothing could make this room more beautiful, than you laying naked
in it. I suppose you have problems with walking right now anyway.”
He put her down again, heading to the table he was sitting before. The light
got duller, and the first nightingales started to sing their sweet song. Petyr
lightened a candle.
However there was enough light for Sansa to see the dark spot next to her, when
she turned her head.
“You took it.” she whispered softly. Petyr looked at her surprised.
“What do you mean, Mylady?” he raised his eyebrows.
“My innocence.”
Petyr smiled, shadows dancing all over his face.
“I think you lost you lost it a long time ago in Kingslanding, sweetheart.”
 
Later she thought about Bran und Rickon. She cried silent tears, until
everything went black and she fell asleep.
 
 
 
 
***** Dark Mornings *****
Chapter Notes
     I'm sorry that this chapter is so short. It's only the first part of
     the actual chapter, but I haven't updated this story for quite a
     while now and feel guilty about it. Anyways, enjoy!
The hot air surrounded her body, like it was a thick, heavy coat. The sweet
smell of oranges filed the room. When her eyes opened for the first time that
day, she was dazzled by the sun. Sansa blinked a few times, until she realized
two things. The first one was that she slept until midday. The other that she
wasn’t laying in her own room.
Shocked, she immediately jumped up and searched for her clothes. She could
shadowy remember what happened last night. That was the reason why she had to
leave so urgently.
Her eyes wandered around, and looked for the dress, which should have layed
somewhere on the floor next to the bed. But the floor was empty. Her clothes
have vanished. Or somebody took them.
Sannsa let out a sigh. Of course, she couldn’t run around naked, or covered in
a bed sheet. Not when there was a possibility of being seen like that.
“Bastard,” Sansa whispered angrily to herself. She couldn’t believe that Petyr,
the man who seemed to want her so badly, would did something like that to her.
That was one thing she would have expected of Joffrey to do. But not Lord
Baelish.
Sansa rubbed the last sleep out of her eyes, before she sat back into bed
again. Looking at the room, she got an idea.
She sat up again and tiptoed with her naked feet on the surprisingly cold stone
floor, heading to the big wooden trunk on the other side of the room.
Sansa slowly lift up the heavy lid. There were a lot of letters and on many of
them, the seal was already broken. Sansa carefully stared to lay them on the
floor next to her. She noticed that nearly every third letter had the royal
seal on it.
She took one letter into her hands, and slowly run the heavy paper through her
fingers, caressing the seal with her thumb.
Then she decided to put it away. She couldn’t read it. Not in that moment, when
so much had happed. Too much.
She took out the last letter out of the trunk and finally reached the pile of
clothes. Sansa pulled a lilac tunic out, and slid it over her sweaty body. The
silk was cool and soft on her skin.
Sansa stepped to the mirror and looked at her reflection. It was deeper
plunging and more revealing then anything she would ever have worn under normal
circumstances and the sleeves were too long, but she liked how the color
flattered the red in her hair.
After that she kneeled next to the trunk, and laid the letters on the clothes
again carefully. Then, for the first time that day Sansa realized, that her
little brothers were dead. She wasn’t sure if it was true. Sansa believed, just
for a second, that it was just a bad dream. Silly dreams. She looked down on
herself, and noticed the bruises on her key bones, which hurt really badly when
she tapped it with one finger. The night was real. She was praying for that she
was still dreaming.
If not, Petyr would be a liar. Her brothers aren’t dead. They’re so young and
haven’t even made enemies yet. They even can’t swing a sword properly. She
remembered the one time when Rickon tried to fight with a tiny wooden sword,
and how ridiculous that looked. Sansa giggled.
When she silently slid through the wooden door, she prayed that she wouldn’t be
seen. She didn’t want to imagine what consequences it would draw with, when
somebody would see her leaving Petyr’s room, not wearing her own clothes. Sansa
stepped on the hot sand colored stone, which left a sharp pain on her toes. The
corridor in was on one side open, so that the sun could shine through the
pillars, which supported the heavy walls upon them. The smell of oranges was
even stronger now, which made Sansa crinkle her nose. .
Suddendly, the noise of steps came closer. And closer. The Stark girl tried to
open the door, but it wouldn't move. Sansa held her breath.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!