Erica Noelle

Chapter Four: Striking the Match

With nothing but silence behind him, Petyr left the throne room, feeling the burning hatred of Joffrey’s gaze on his back. Returning to his chambers, Petyr went to his desk and began thinking, buying time until dusk and the castle settled. Ravens were sent out, Olyvar awoke from his sleep to venture out into the city. Daario, Thirro and a few other men inform him of the status of the castle, the fury and rage that was left in his wake. At sundown, a knock came to the secret door that led into the dark passageways. Opening the door, he was disappointed to find a guard, one he did not know, staring at him and yet Sansa was nowhere in sight. 

“The Queen would like a word.” It was the one with the handsome one with blonde hair, the guard who always was seen by the Queen’s shoulder. Her personal guard and one that Petyr could assume she was closest with outside of her brother. Yet, Petyr did not move, eyeing the man suspiciously. Sansa stated that the King’s Guard belonged to her and while he believed her to be genuine, he rarely was a trusting man when it came to everyone else's intentions. “I’m unarmed if that is what you’re concerned about. Sansa has ordered that no harm come to you.”

“Why did she send you and not her brother?”

“Because Bran is currently guarding the King since you killed Meyrn. Thank you for that. He was insufferable.” 

“So I’ve been told.” Petyr drawled, looking at the man before him. He was handsome, reminding him of Olyvar in a way, and curious how he clearly was on a first name basis with Sansa. As her sworn protector, it would be only natural that there be some sort of bond and Petyr was curious at how deep that bond went. “What is your name?”

Chapter Two: The Pleasure of Being Wrong

Joffrey was furious . The tantrum he had thrown in the aftermath of Petyr’s arrival caused Sansa immense satisfaction to see his desires uprooted. She remained silent, allowing him to rant, throw things and act like an overgrown child. She watched as his mother attempted to calm him, soothe him and promise that everything would be just fine while Kevan did his best to reason with him, to pull him away from the notion that the best way to handle the issue was to cut off their heads. Even if Joffrey attempted to do such a thing, she doubted that he would be successful. Even before she left the throne room, she could see that Petyr was not a man who was able to be bullied. 

Hours had passed and once Joffrey was done yelling and screaming, having made his way down into the black cells for the night, Sansa found herself weaving along the secret passageways that not many people knew about. Before Varys had vanished with Tyrion and Sansa had been able to pull herself from her bed after everything, she began to note where the spy master was in the castle and how he got around it. She had been pleased to discover that her own chambers had another entrance, one Joffrey was not aware of. She wasn’t a fool, she knew that Varys had been aware that she was watching him. He said nothing, if anything he made it easier for her to learn most, if not all, of the dark and weaving passages. 

Bran held a torch above her head, allowing the light to guide them through the darkness. Loras stayed behind, guarding her chamber door as thought she was nestled inside it, laying in her bed. She knew Joffrey wouldn’t come for her, not that night. She knew him well enough to anticipate his habits and he needed to take his anger out on someone that he did not need to remain alive. Sansa would be left alone and it gave her the time to leave her chambers without suspicion.  

Cersei had made the arrangements for Petyr’s stay; assigning rooms that she assumed would be watched and knew the servants who would come and go from every chamber. Little spies and birds who whispered what she wanted to hear but it wasn’t enough. Cersei’s eyes couldn’t reach every inch of the Red Keep, especially the parts that she did not realize existed. Sansa made sure to learn the arrangements, to know how to reach them without being seen. 

When Sansa curled her fingers against his and their palms touched, showing that she held no fear of him, did they dance. 

There was no music as they swayed, the gentle breeze echoing around them as they moved. It was a dance that Sansa was not familiar with. It had elements that mimicked the ones she had shared with Joffrey before Petyr’s poison had taken hold but when he spun her, taking her off guard, did she find herself laughing. Petyr grinned, the first honest smile she had seen on his lips since he stepped foot into the city. He was enjoying their dance, both current and among the game they played, far more than she realized. It had been so long since she felt connected to another person. It was something she had not felt since she left the North. 

They twirled again, causing Sansa to trip over her feet in the unfamiliar movement, causing her to fall against Petyr’s chest. He did not let her fall, instead holding her tight against him, allowing her to lean against him. He was sturdy and warm, his hand moving from her shoulder to her waist, his fingers leaving a trail of shivers down the length of her arm as he did. Sansa peered up into his eyes, blue locking with green and she could feel the cold walls that she surrounded herself with slowly begin to melt. 

“Where did you learn to dance? Riverrun?”

“No.” Petyr chuckled, tossing his head to the side, his soft smile holding strong. “I spent some time in Lys a few years back. I have an old friend there and in the pleasure gardens, you learn all sorts of seductions and freedoms.” He moved his hand towards her face, gently tucking a stray curl behind her ear, caressing her cheekbone as he went. “I believe you would like Lys.”

“Would I?” Sansa asked, her tone coming out in breathy whispers. Petyr did not answer, instead only nodding. “And is this seduction? Dancing on a balcony beneath the stars and in the candlelight?” Sansa leaned forward, the tips of their noses touching and pressing her forehead against his. “Is this what it feels like to be desired?”

What it Means to be Silent

Chapter One: Not My King

309 AC

Twelve Years Later

Sansa never prayed to the Seven anymore. Not to the Mother or the Stranger. Not to the Father or the Maiden nor the Warrior or the Crone or the Smith. She stopped believing they existed long ago and if she was wrong, they were not deities she would want to worship anyway. Sometimes, she missed praying to the Old Gods but now she questioned even their existence. Even with spring approaching, Sansa felt little pleasure in the fact that winter was dying a slow death. Summer could come with the morning, but she knew that she would feel nothing but the cold.

The sights of King’s Landing had grown dull with the winter air and yet it was still warmer than what she was used to. There had been very little snow in the city, a few dustings here and there but nothing for at least a year. Many called in a blessing but to Sansa, it was the sign that mourning was slowly coming to an end and that was not something she was ready for. Her long black gown that covered her bruised arms had become something armor for her, more comforting than the crown she wore on her head.

If Hoster decided to let Lysa keep the pregnancy, Petyr would not have been shipped off but instead, remained at Riverrun to recover. He would have forced them to marry and things would have been cold between them as Petyr did ot love Lysa and began to hate her once he realized that it was her and not Catelyn who he ad been with.

Due to Lysa's young age, her pregnancy was difficult and she ended up dying a few days after her daughter was born from childbed fever. The last thing she did was name her daughter, Myna Baelish.

Hoster, not wanting Petyr and a reminder of his now dead daughter at Riverrun, gives Petyr the sum of Lysa's dowery and sends him and Myna to the Fingers. Robert's Rebellion still goes on and plays out normally. Petyr makes contact with Catelyn (who writes to keep tabs on her niece) and eventually this is how Jon Arryn gives Petyr the post in Gulltown. Like in the books and show, Petyr rises high and becomes Master of Coin, taking Myna to King's Landing to continue raising her there.

Things at KL are a bit different. Petyr becomes rather close with Jon Arryn for the sole purpose of getting close to Jon's heir, Harold Hardying. A betrothal between Myna and Harry is drafted and once it becomes set in stone, Jon Arryn suspiciously dies. However, this time Petyr is not behind it, as he had an invested interest in Jon Arryn living until at least the wedding.

Ned and the rest come to King's Landing and Petyr is taken aback by Sansa. Myna takes notice of this and crafts a plan. Things play out similarly in the first book, with the exceptions of Myna and Sansa becoming close friends. When Ned is executed, the war breaks out and Petyr stays "loyal" to the crown. He still goes around the kingdoms sowing chaos, while slowly trying to keep Harry out of the war. Myna is the one caring for Sansa when she is being beaten and bruised by Joffrey.

Petyr is still given titles and prestige, even though he kind of would have had that through his short marriage to Lysa and the money from her dowry.

Red Wedding still happens, leaving Myna and Petyr Sansa's only remaining family.

Sansa still ends up marrying Tyrion but only because she told Myna of the plan for her to marry Wilas Tyrell, something neither Myna nor Petyr want. This forces them to temporarily leave Sansa behind when they head to the Vale. However, instead of Petyr marrying Lysa as he does in the books, they are going for Myna's wedding to Harry, the crown wanting to bring the Vale to their side.

Purple wedding happens and Sansa is whisked away, the same way she was in the books. Petyr poses her as his bastard daughter Alayne, something Myna reinforces upon her marriage to Harry. Everyone believes Myna and Alayne to be sisters, since they look similar when Sansa dyes her hair.

Myna becomes with child and is slowly convinces Harry to move onto Winterfell, to take it back from the Boltons. She tells him who Sansa really is and states that she is family, or at least, she hopes it to be. Petyr, slowly begins seducing Sansa during their time at the Vale. Previously, most of her interactions where through Myna, and when she finally gets to know Petyr, she trusts him a bit more easily than she did in the books/show.

Slowly, she falls in love with him and marries him about six months after Myna gives birth to a young boy. Harry leads an army in the name of his wife's family to reclaim Winterfell. He succeeds but dies in the process. Myna isn't exactly heartbroken as she didn't love Harry and has already given him a son, making her Lady of the Vale and Protector of the Vale until he reached maturity.

Prologue 

297 AC

Fourteen years after Robert’s Rebellion

Bear Island was burning. They could see it before they even stepped foot on the ship to cross the narrow water way towards the frozen shore. Smoke rose into the cold air, making the late morning sky appear almost black as night. They could smell the soot and ruin even from a distance, causing them to stop and peer at the carnage that awaited them. The castle could be seen in the distance, nestled between trees and a ways back from the shore. She wondered if the fire licked the stones off the walls of the castle or if it came from somewhere else.

“What happened Father? Did the Mormonts tell you in their letter?” Robb, a young boy of fourteen asked, noting the concern upon his father’s face. Catelyn could see it too. The lines in his brow creased and his lips thinned with worry. She knew her husband well by now, able to read him in ways that she had never been able to do with Brandon. She hated that she still compared the two brothers, knowing that she wouldn’t have everything that she did now if she married the elder of the two. At least with her husband, she found happiness.

But.

Because I’ve been MIA- here is a sneak peak.

With each step of the dance, music playing around them, Sansa found her thoughts leaving Joffrey and focusing on Petyr. She searched the crowd but wasn't able to find him, disappointment consuming her unexpectedly. At first, Petyr was nothing more than a weapon to be wielded against Joffrey but now he was real. He saw through her, saw more than the pretty face that the rest of the world seemed to think she was. She did not know what was to happen after everything was done, but she did know that Petyr was a fixture in her life that she could not forget.

“I like you in that dress.” Joffrey whispered in her ear, pulling her back to the present. His lips were close to her skin and his hand pressed against the small of her back. He was closer than the dance warranted, a scandalous motion that would have the court whispering if he was not the world’s master, nor she his wife. If they were anyone else, the rumor mill would be filled with whispers and laughter but Joffrey was king and he believed he could do no wrong. For all intents and purposes, he was the law.

And Sansa wanted to break it.

“Thank you.”

“Mother hates that you wear black but frankly, seeing you in the color pleases me.” Joffrey chuckled and it took every ounce of willpower not to reach out and strike him. Instead she said nothing, following his movements and guidance, refusing to break even when her back was pressed against his, out of his eye sight for a moment. She knew that everyone was watching them, gazing at them and it did not allow her a moment to break. She kept her lifeless expression as she spun back again, her hand falling back into his and their linked hands holding one another at a distance. “Reminds me of that special day.”

LOL you're fine.

To be honest, I'm hitting a slump in writing so I have no idea. However, this weekend is the first weekend I'm literally free with nothing to do so I hope to get some writing done.

Aw!! Thanks Anon.